Starfire

EPILOGUE

Brad stood at the head of the Cybernetic Infantry Unit as the straps began to slowly retract up toward the ceiling, and moments later Patrick McLanahan was pulled clear of the robot. His body was as pale as a bedsheet, and he was thinner than Brad could ever remember, but he was not as skeletal as he had feared — he looked wiry, with good muscle tone beneath the snow-white skin. His head was supported with a pillow attached to its own straps. Doctors and nurses rushed up to him, administering medications and attaching sensors all over his body. They placed an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose with a microphone in it.

Patrick turned and opened his eyes, looking at Brad, and he smiled. “Hello, son,” he said. “Good to see you in person and not through an optronic sensor.”

“Hello, Dad,” Brad said. He turned a little to his right. “I’d like you to meet Jodie Cavendish, my friend and one of my Starfire team leaders. Jodie, please meet my father, General Patrick S. McLanahan.”

Patrick closed his eyelids and even slightly bowed his head. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Cavendish,” he said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“It is a great honor to meet you, sir,” Jodie said.

“I’m sorry about Casey Huggins and Starfire,” Patrick said. “You did some amazing work.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Patrick looked at Brad. “So, you’re headed back to school,” he said. “I’m not sure if you can get any work done with all the publicity swirling around you guys.”

“We’re counting on fast news cycles and short memory spans,” Brad said. “Cal Poly is a big place. We’re the ones who lost a space station. We’re not heroes.”

“In my eyes, you are,” Patrick said.

It did not take long. As Patrick was suspended above, the old CID was wheeled away, the new one wheeled into place. Patrick’s body was lowered inside, the straps pulled free, and the rear hatch was closed. Jodie was awestruck as the CID stood up, wriggled its arms and legs as if waking up from a nap, then extended a hand to her. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Cavendish,” Patrick said in his electronically synthesized voice. “I look forward to seeing you again.”

“We’re coming up next weekend to decorate your room,” Brad said. “I got a bunch of your Air Force stuff out of storage. We’ll make this place feel like home.”

“I can’t guarantee I’ll be here, Brad,” Patrick said, “but you’re welcome to do whatever you feel like doing. I’d like that.” Brad gave his father a hug, and he and Jodie departed.

A few minutes after they left, with the CID plugged into power, nutrients, environmental, and data umbilicals, former president Kevin Martindale entered the room. “You actually approved Miss Cavendish to visit,” he remarked. “I’m surprised.”

“She promised to keep it a secret,” Patrick said. “I believe her.”

“Too bad about Phoenix losing the election to Barbeau,” Martindale said. “That could be the end of a lot of government contracts.”

“Many more clients out there,” Patrick said. “Many more projects that we need to get under way.”

Martindale shook his finger at Patrick. “Very clever of you, I must say,” he said. “Injecting news articles and data to Brad about orbiting solar power plants and microwave lasers. You actually made your son believe Starfire was his idea.”

“I planted the ideas — he had to run with them,” Patrick said.

“True, true,” said Martindale. “But when the idea came to life, it was so clever of you to secretly and carefully send him the experts, point him to Cavendish, Kim, Huggins, and Eagan, and line up Sky Masters to support him with that grant money.”

“My son is a true leader,” Patrick said. “He may be a terrible aerospace engineering student, but he’s a good pilot and a great leader. All I did was place the resources at his disposal — it was up to him to put them together and build it. He did a good job.”

“But you used your son to build an illegal directed-energy space weapon, in violation of international law,” Martindale said. “Very, very clever. It worked. Unfortunately it was destroyed by the Russians, but it proved the value of microwave lasers. Good job, General.” Martindale smiled and asked, “So what else do you have in store for young Bradley, may I ask?”

“We have to deal with a President Stacy Anne Barbeau now,” Patrick said. “She will surely scrap the space initiative. But the good thing is, she wants to build bombers, aircraft carriers, arsenal ships, hypersonic weapons, and unmanned everything. I’m sure Brad can design and test most of those things. I’ll get to work on it right away.”

“I’m sure you will, General McLanahan,” Martindale said with an evil smile. “I’m sure you will.”