As it turned out, many of the incoming messages were supportive. The British government expressed the hope that the demonstration might mark the beginning of a turnaround in world opinion that was long overdue. A Russian corporation revealed that it was working along similar lines to the NIFTV and would be flying a test engine of its own within six months. By three o’clock, Amspace had received twenty-six inquiries from hopeful would-be pilots. The meeting ended with the hope that the coming weekend might afford a forced cooling-off period. After that, the case the Kronians had come to argue for Earth expanding its space effort would endorse Amspace’s position strongly. So all in all, events seemed to have worked themselves in quite a timely fashion.
While people were still collecting papers together and shutting down laptops, Wallace Lomack, the company’s Chief Design Engineer, came over to where Keene was sitting with Joe Elms and Ricardo. “It was the Rambler all over again, Lan,” he said jovially. “Right?”
Keene looked up, momentarily nonplussed. “Hi, Wally. What?”
“A long time ago, you told us that story about the Nash Rambler that you souped up and wiped out everything on the highway with back when you were a student. The stunt today was the same thing all over again, right? That was what gave you the idea.”
Finally, the penny dropped. “Oh, you still remember that story, eh?” Keene said.
“I never heard that one,” Joe murmured, tidying up his notes.
“Lan’s history of dreaming up crazy schemes and getting everyone to go along with them goes all the way back,” Wally replied. Then, to Keene, “I bet you never thought it would come to anything like this, though, eh?”
“You’re right. I never thought it would. . . .” Keene shrugged. “So what are you up to over the weekend, Wally? Anything wild and exciting?”
Lomack left his tie loosened and slipped on his jacket, not bothering trying to fasten it over his ample midriff. “Oh, bit of boating, bit of fishing—something to amuse the grandkids, you know. How about you, Lan?”
“We’re the mission crew. We don’t have no weekend,” Ricardo put in, next to Keene.
“They’ve given you the whole of tomorrow morning to rest up,” Keene pointed out.
“Oh, yeah. How could I forget that?”
“Then Les has got a press conference organized in town that we have to be at,” Keene replied to Wally. He was referring to Les Urkin, head of Amspace’s public relations. “Then I arranged to be in Washington next week. Things are no doubt about to start flapping there.”
“When are you flying up there?” Wally inquired.
“Probably Sunday night.”
Joe raised his eyebrows and made an O in the air with a thumb and forefinger. “Aha! And planning to meet the delectable Saturnian, I’ll bet. Can’t say I blame you, though, Lan.”
“Sure, if the schedules work out,” Keene agreed. “Why not? We’ve been talking to them long enough.”
“Is a romance between the planets about to happen?” Ricardo asked, grinning.
Keene shook his head. “Not me. I’ve been there already. Burned, bitten, and shy. You know how it is.”
Wally thought about that, then made a face. “Well, the first two, I might buy. Anyhow, have fun, young feller.”
“You too, Wally,” Keene said. “And don’t let those grandkids tip over your boat. You’re needed back here for the profile evaluations next week.”
Lomack moved away, while Keene finished stuffing his papers into a document case. As a matter of fact, he had forgotten all about his student escapade with the Nash Rambler. What had given him the idea for showing off the NIFTV when the Air Force was testing its APU was something he’d read about Charles Parsons, the English inventor of the steam turbine, who had used the celebration of the Queen’s Jubilee in 1897 to arouse the interest of the British Admiralty. On that occasion, the Royal Navy had assembled 173 warships to be reviewed by the Royal Yacht and a grand flotilla of craft containing the Lords of the Admiralty, various colonial premiers, the Diplomatic Corps, and members from both Houses of Parliament; but Parsons stole the show by roaring around the fleet in his 2,000 horsepower turbine-driven yacht Turbinia at thirty-four knots, which was faster than anything the Navy could send in chase. In fact, it was the fastest boat in the world at the time. Such was the spirit of the age, that the British Admiralty had responded by promptly ordering two turbine-powered ships. As he zipped up the document case and rose from his chair, Keene wondered if they could expect a similar display of magnanimity and perspicacity from the Defense Department.