He marveled at his good mood. The Earth’s melting down, your corporation is going broke, you’ve busted every regulation the IAA ever wrote, Humphries is after your scalp, you’re heading out for parts unknown, and you’re sitting here with a grin on your face.
He knew why.
I’m free, he told himself. Maybe for only a couple of weeks, but I’m free of all of them, free of all their crap. We’re on our own and nobody can bother us.
Until we come back.
Pancho ducked through the hatch and went straight to the juice dispenser.
“How’s it going?” Dan asked casually.
“All systems working jus’ fine,” she said, filling a mug and coming to the table to sit next to Dan.
“Must be okay if you feel good enough to leave the bridge.”
“Mandy’s up there, keepin’ an eye on ever’thing. The bird will actually fly on her own; we don’t need to be on the bridge every minute of the day.”
“Any incoming calls?” Dan asked.
She shrugged. “Only about six or seven million. Ever’body from Doug Stavenger to the Global News Network wants to talk to you.”
“Global News?” Dan’s ears perked up.
“Lots of news media. They all want to interview you.”
Dan stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Might not be a bad idea. If we’re going to do an interview it’ll have to be before we get so far away the time lag makes it impossible to have a real-time conversation.”
“Better do it quick, then,” Pancho said. “Once we goose this bird to one-third g, we’ll really be sprintin’ fast.”
Dan nodded his agreement. Pointing to the phone console built into the bulkhead, he asked, “Can you patch me through?”
“Easy.”
“Okay… lemme talk to La Guaira.”
The head of Astro’s corporate public relations staff was a sweet-faced brunette who was older—and much tougher—than she looked. Dan asked her if she could arrange a news conference with the world’s major news networks.
“It has to be today,” he pressed. “We’re zipping out so fast that by tomorrow we won’t be able to talk back and forth without a four-to-five-minute lag.”
“Understood,” said the PR woman.
“Can you do it?”
She arched a carefully-drawn brow. “Arrange a major news conference with the man who’s hijacked his own superduper spaceship to go out past Mars and start mining the asteroids? Just get off the line, boss, and let me get to work.”
Dan laughed and obliged. He was glad that he had decided to keep his public relations team intact, despite the layoffs in other corporate departments. Fire the accountants and the lawyers, he reminded himself. Get rid of the paper shufflers and bean counters. But keep the people who polish your public image. They’re the last to go —except for the people who do the real work: the engineers and scientists.
Pancho watched him as she sipped at her juice. When Dan ended his call to La Guaira, she asked, “So now what happens?”
“Now we wait while my PR people do their jobs.”
“Uh-huh. How long do you think it’ll take?”
“We’ll know in an hour or so,” Dan said. “If it takes longer than that, it’s not going to go down.”
Pancho nodded. “I could hear it. The lag between you and her’s already longer than the usual Earth-Moon delay.”
Dan got to his feet and went to the coffee dispenser. He really wanted a pleasant glass of Amontillado, but there was no alcohol on the ship.
Remembering the story the two women had told him about the goons Humphries had sent after Amanda, Dan asked, “Whatever happened to your snake?”
“Elly?”
“Is that the snake’s name?”
“Yup.”
“So what’d you do with her?”
Pancho reached down to her ankle and came up with the glittering blue krait.
Dan flinched back. “You brought that thing aboard?”
Shrugging, Pancho said, “I was gonna leave it with Pistol Pete, he’s the guy who owns the Pelican Bar. But with those goons and all, I didn’t have the time.”
“We’ve got a poisonous snake on the ship!”
“Relax, boss,” Pancho said easily. “I’ve got four mice in my travel bag. That’s enough to keep Elly fat and happy for more’n a month.”