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Chapter 13

"Coming up on confirmation. Reacquisition of signal due in five, four, three, two, one . . ."

A.J. held his breath. Please don't screw up now, Pirate.

". . . waiting . . . waiting . . ."

"Are the Martian antispacecraft defenses up again?"

"Wait—we have a signal. Pirate reports all functions green."

"Trajectory?"

"Looks to be slightly hot. May need a short burn for final match. Running the figures now . . . within safety margin. We are go for ISM release at Phobos rendezvous."

The room, momentarily silent, echoed suddenly to the explosive whoosh as A.J. finally took another breath. Good-natured chuckles followed.

"A little nervous, A.J.?" Diane Sodher asked with a grin. "Oh, maybe just a little. I mean, it's not like there's anything important riding on this mission."

"You mean like your rep and half of Ares' money?"

A.J. grimaced.

"Well, you let me know when you're ready to relax." The spectacularly redheaded info specialist winked at him and turned back to her station. A.J. managed to keep from looking either nervous or smug. Diane had been flirting with him for weeks, ever since he started coming to Mission Control regularly, but he'd been too worried about making sure everything worked right to risk fraternizing with the enemy, so to speak. But after tonight, maybe . . .

"Burn to match orbits set for 1435:04. Deployment of ISM units will follow at approximately 1600 to allow for verification of burn success and deployment readiness."

Time for him to take a break. Once the deployment happened he was going to actually have something to do for a change. He couldn't control the Faeries—the Independent Sensor Modules or ISMs in official parlance—in detail at a distance, of course. The speed-oflight lag meant that even at closest approach to Mars, he'd still have a round-trip delay measurable in minutes; at maximum distance it was close on half an hour. But he could give them a lot of general guidance, especially if he thought ahead carefully.

He'd been doing a lot of mission profile planning for the past several weeks, including disaster contingency plans. Hopefully that part of his work would turn out to be wasted. A.J. intended to work out all the systems to their fullest extent, and that meant he would actually have to take a few risks—something he couldn't do if he lost any of the Faeries on deployment. He'd need them all intact before he could take chances.

A drive and a late lunch sounded like a good idea. If he were back at Ares he could've grabbed Joe to go with him, but things weren't quite that casual here at NASA. Most people were busy right now, anyway. He headed to the parking lot and was soon driving down the commercial strip in the nearby town, looking for something appropriate.

Not fast food, thanks very much, A.J. said to himself as the neon and brighter lights of said establishments tried to beckon to him. I need real food to keep me going tonight. Well, real food and then a sack of doughnuts and coffee. Ah, there we go, a steakhouse!

Getting a table in midafternoon was easy; the place was almost empty. He checked the menu, ordered, and then sat there in the quiet, waiting.

A.J. hated eating alone. After chewing on the problem for a moment, he pulled out his phone and dialed a still-familiar number.

The tanned face that materialized in his VRD vision was streaked with sweat and dirt, and the golden hair pulled back but escaping in tangled disarray.

Damn, but she looks good.

"What's up, Doc?"

"A.J.!" Helen Sutter's smile was brilliant against her honey-dark tan. Then she frowned in mock annoyance. "And will you stop greeting me like Bugs Bunny?"

"Better, ah say, girl, better than Foghorn Leghorn!" A.J. retorted in his best drawling bellow.

That got a laugh. "True enough. Well, as you can see, I'm in the middle of a dig right now. What's up with you, almost-Doc?"

"I'm in a restaurant completely alone, and wanted to see if I could at least have virtual company. I thought you might be able to indulge me. Time for a call?"

"Oh, I suppose I could take a little break. But if you're in an even vaguely respectable place, I sure hope you're not using a projector. I'll bring down the tone of the place. Badly."

"Purely for my eyes only. But even just like you are, you'd bring the tone of any place way up."

"That's why I put up with your antics—you know how to flatter a woman."

"Flattery? Never. I just tell the pure and honest truth. The secret is knowing that women like you never believe that they really are gorgeous."

Helen studied him for a moment, her head cocked a little. The expression on her face was a bit disconcerting to A.J. A sort of distant amusement combined with . . . something else, that he wasn't sure about.

He was reminded, not for the first time, that badinage with a very intelligent woman twelve years older than he was could be a chancy proposition.

Abruptly, Helen changed the subject. "So what's up with your work now?"

"The Faeries get to fly in a few hours. Pirate just succeeded in the aerobraking maneuver to get her into a closely matching orbit to Phobos."

"That's great, A.J.! I'll bet you're excited."

"Yeah. Yeah, actually, I am."

Helen's head was still cocked, subtly inviting an elaboration.

He was rather surprised to find he meant it. After being taken off the flight crew, he'd spent weeks working simply because he hadn't had much else to do and he didn't know how to just slack off. He was out of practice, having been working like a demon since he was fifteen. "You know, I really am!"

Helen's smile flashed again, this one warmer and with a touch of sympathy. "I'm glad. I could tell you weren't doing well at all for a while there, even though we only talk occasionally. Your e-mails just didn't have the usual A.J. edge."

"You mean bad puns and stupid humor."

"That too," she said, chuckling. "But really, you have a voice all your own. And as annoying as you can sometimes be, it's a signature that comes across even in a typed note. When I don't see something that says 'look, I've got something really cool to tell you' in the note, and instead get something that just reads like a thank-you note, I know something's wrong."

"Well, have no fear, Milady Bonedigger. A.J. the Great, Imperator of Imaging, Sovereign of Sensors, Dictator of Detection, has returned!"

Plates rattled. "And my lunch has arrived. I would share some of it, but somehow I don't think it'll work out."

She looked wistfully at the table. "You are a cruel man, to call a woman who's working here in a hot desert and then taunt her with real food and drink when all she has"—she held up a small wrapped object—"is a granola bar and a canteen of warm water."

"True, true. But it's an artistic kind of cruelty. I'll make it up to you, whenever you're back from digging. You name the place, I'll pay the check. Joe and Jackie could even join us, if you time it right."

"I'd love to see them again. I know they've been busy in their training, though."

"Don't worry about it. They can get enough time off to drop in and see an old friend, I guarantee you." A.J. started in on the salad. "If this really bothers you, I can cut off. I mostly needed company while I was waiting with nothing much to do."

"It doesn't really bother me. But I probably should get back to work."

"No problem. Thanks for taking the time. Now, and before."

"Anytime. Later, A.J. Let me know how everything goes!"

"I will."

The image of the paleontologist vanished, and A.J. dug in. Now that he realized how excited he was, he was impatient to get back. There were things to do, and he was the one to do them!

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Framed