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the risks,” she said, reciting NASA’s party line.
    “And until now, Joe’s only known you as a semi-retired astronaut,” Tom interjected. “He wasn’t there when you were working eighty-hour weeks just to get noticed.”
    She was forced to concede that point. A well-kept secret of astronaut life had been that far too many overachievers were funneled into too few opportunities for an actual mission, which made for brutal competition over the most trivial assignments. After her husband’s death aboard Orion , Penny stayed around just long enough to help wind down the program and had finally left at Tom’s behest.
    Penny nodded in silent agreement. “I’m gone half the time and he’s left holding the bag. Maybe he’s wondering what comes next and doesn’t like the answer,” she thought, letting the idea hang for a moment as she absentmindedly twirled a strand of hair. “I’m home for a week at a time. You’d think we’d be able to make the most of that. It’s gotten to where I can’t wait to get back to work, but can’t leave because things are…unfinished,” she lamented. “I either want to take a stick to him or sashay through the front door naked just to get his attention. Depends on what kind of mood I’m in.”
    Tom considered her remarks in silence, apparently for longer than he’d realized.
    “ Hello! You still with me?” she asked, slightly annoyed.
    “Couldn’t help but think about my own problems a while back,” he said, looking up in embarrassment. “And I’m afraid people will get the wrong idea,” he added self-consciously.
    “I never knew!” she laughed, and fluttered a hand in front of her face. “Sorry pal, you’re too old for me. But you’re right, I know how this place can be,” she said with a conspiratorial look over her shoulder. They used to get a kick out of fabricating wild stories just to see how long it would take the rumors to get around the company. “Your record is what, three days?” she asked with a smile, having the same thought. “The one that had everyone thinking Hammond was going to sell the company back to Leo Taggart? The union got pretty worked up over that one.”
    “Art sure went on the warpath,” he replied with his own wily grin. “Wasn’t much choice but to own up to it. If we hadn’t just started proving flights I’d probably be hauling rubber chickens for some fly-by-night freight dogs.”
    “Art also knows you’re not exactly a big union guy,” she said, leaning back and gulping down the last of her coffee. Their seniority rules were the sole reason Tom hadn’t been appointed chief pilot as soon as the Clippers had gone into service. “Back to the subject, or would you rather eat?”
    “Eat. Not long until I have to fly,” he said, checking his watch as a waitress finally appeared. It was apparently a busy evening for everyone.
    …
     
    As they traded stories, another man strode briskly down the long corridor outside. Other hurried workers perfunctorily stepped aside as he passed. Crisply dressed, he habitually swept a thumb around the waistband of his trousers. Arthur Hammond turned the corner and ended his walk at a set of double doors leading to the flight control center, his traditional last stop of each day.
    Hammond immediately noticed the room carried a low but steady rumble of conversation, the only indication that the route system was falling into disarray. Running an airline— spaceline , he kept correcting himself—was an exercise in chaos management, much more so than manufacturing had ever been. He’d frequently compared it to playing chess, except that as soon as you arrange the pieces some idiot kicks the board over and announces a rule change.
    With that in mind, he made his way to the manager’s station and looked over the consoles. No internal phone lines lit up, no outstation lines lit, no aircraft calls. Wow. That can’t be right , he thought. “What’s going on, Charlie? Anything I need to know