Read Online Shattered Legacy by Shane R. Daley - Free Book Online

at the tour group on the catwalk. The recent test launches had brought more and more visitors. In the week before the Naiad's mission launch, Gettleman thought tourists would overrun the place. They seemed to be everywhere.
    He exhaled deeply. Then he looked down and focused on the partially-constructed orbiter. In his three-decade career, he had never seen an organization grow as quickly as Templar Enterprises' space program. From the construction of the space center, to the development of the orbiters, they had come so far, so fast. Sinclair Dorian's promise of matching NASA's old shuttle fleet ship for ship was quickly becoming a reality.
    Of course, Templar's orbiters were far more advanced than the original space shuttles. They were amazing machines, true engineering wonders.
    Potential death traps.
    A voice called out behind him. “You know, I had a feeling my morning was taking a turn for the worse when my chief flight director calls me up and demands that I come to his office immediately, if not sooner.”
    Gettleman’s gut tightened as he tore his gaze away from the window. Like any of the twenty or so administrative offices in the VAB, Gettleman's place was small and poorly-air conditioned. The place was a general mess. Manuals, books, and colorful brochures stuffed the bookshelves. Blueprint posters and engineering charts overlapped each other on the remaining wall space.
    Jack Kroft, Agency Director of the Thomas Dorian Space Center, stood in the open doorway. Still trim for a man in his late fifties, he was dressed in a gray suit and a narrow, patterned tie. He looked as if the sun and wind had chiseled his face and driven the color from his short-cropped hair. In each hand, he held a steaming mug of coffee. He stepped inside, set one mug down on a clear spot on Gettleman’s desk, and collapsed into the leather-backed chair in front of the desk.
    “So here I am,” he said, taking a sip from his mug. “What's going on, Noah?”
    Gettleman glanced back at his reflection in the window. Besides working for a place where departments never had to worry much about justifying their annual budgets, he liked having direct accessibility to his superiors. It was a welcome change from the old days of NASA's twisted bureaucracy.
    Kroft leaned forward and peered at his senior flight director. He said nothing, waiting for Gettleman to speak.
    Gettleman turned back again, gave the Director a grim look, and settled into the chair behind his desk. Nodding in appreciation, he reached for his coffee. He took a quick sip of the hot liquid, and found that his hands were already trembling, without the benefit of caffeine. He set the cup back down.
    “I wanted to talk to you about the mission.”
    “What about it?”
    “Are we still coming in under budget for this mission?”
    Kroft shrugged. “For this flight? Barely. But in the end, it's the launch rate that lets us make our numbers. You know that.”
    “You’re being a bit cavalier, aren’t you?”
    Kroft shrugged. “Hey, back in the ‘70s, when they were selling the shuttle program to Congress, they claimed that the shuttles would fly forty times per year. It was a completely bogus claim. At the time, there wasn't even a payload manifest large enough to justify that kind of launch rate.” The director grinned. “Why do you think the International Space Station was built with a multiple shuttle launch and orbit-assembly strategy? It was way to keep the old shuttle fleet flying into the twenty-first century.”
    Gettleman nodded. “We could have heavy-lifted the station in pieces.”
    “That’s right. And as long as we keep our birds flying, we’ll make our numbers. It worked for NASA, and it’ll work for us. Only this time, we have passengers actually waiting for flights, with deposits already paid.” He took another sip of coffee. “Now, what’s on your mind?”
    Gettleman leaned forward and folded his hands on his desk. “I didn’t want to raise a red flag