"Regrettably, Mister Chairman, it seems evident that there is little we can
do. Indeed, this is a most tragic turn of events." 

Margaret Kim folded her hands together, the first offhanded movement she had
made since taking her seat before the committee, but her gaze remained
firmly locked on the Chairman. It seemed inhuman that she could wield the
necessary resolve to etch a total lack of expression into the soft features
of her Korean countenance, yet the exercise was wholly necessary. The
Chairman knew it. After all, he had a responsibility to maintain his
composure before the public, just as she had to maintain her bearing for the
sake of the Service. Control was of the utmost importance in times like
this, with twenty billion viewers looking on and analyzing even the
slightest twitch in their expressions. 

"Thank you, Admiral Kim," the Chairman concluded the briefing lecture
segment, much to the naval flag officer's chagrin. Now, the far more
aggressive and proportionally less accountable honorables of the House
Select Committee on the New Technologies for Space Warfare and Oversight
would have their chance to engage in whatever political posturing they could
get away with in light of this tragedy. Sincerely, the Chairman prayed that
Ms. Kim would be able to rise above the verbal savagery she was about to
endure. "The Committee will now entertain discussion and questions for the
next hour and a half. Both the ranking member and I have agreed to divide
the time into periods of forty-five minutes for each side. From there, each
side of the bench will distribute their time equally amongst three senior
members. Mr. Sanhurst? Mr. Doubleday? Mrs. Darreau-Stevenson? You each will
control fifteen minutes, totaling to the forty-five allotted to the minority
delegation, which may be divulged in any manner you see fit--in accordance
to parliamentary procedure. Mrs. Arakawa? Mr. Thompson? Mr. Guttierez?
Similar rules apply to the majority delegation. The Chairman and the Ranking
Member have agreed to abstain from discussion. These rules, may I remind
you, passed by unanimous consent from both delegations to the Committee, and
no objection to a matter of the rules will be entertained. Likewise, no
motion without the express approval of either the Ranking Member or myself
will be entertained or even recorded. With that said, I turn the floor over
to Mrs. Darreau-Stevenson from the minority delegation." 

"Thank you, Mr. Chairman. I will delegate my time in a moment, but I wish to
proceed with opening remarks for as much time as I might consume." Margaret
Kim watched with muffled contempt as the first of her accusers took the
bait. "I thank you, Admiral Kim, for appearing before us today to provide
your testimony on this rather unfortunate accident. Let me begin by stating
that under your leadership, USSPACDEVEXCOM has made some monumental
achievements, from working and regulating private commerce in
near-Earthspace to improving the infrastructure of the Deimos carbon-mining
project." 

But.... 

"It seems to me, however, that whereas we might have thought about
continuing those improvement projects for our citizens leaving in space and
abroad, funding such a highly experimental project as STARLIGHT demonstrates
that maybe this Congress hasn't focused on its more immediate priorities.
Instances of similarly painful and tragic circumstances have occurred
several times in our nation's space exploration history; and each time we
learned that we may have crossed a line we were not ready to cross. We trod
across unsure ground unprepared; and hopefully after realizing the
consequences of our demand for aggressive progress, we must make the most of
the lesson and proceed with greater caution. That means, in my opinion,
turning our attention back to the orbital, lunar and Martian states.
Ensuring that we have mastered all there is to master in those arena...only
then should we proceed to expand our horizons." 

Her argument hand a perverse sense of logic to it, but the lack of
historical insight whatsoever did not fail to perturb the Admiral. The
tragic examples the Congresswoman had conveniently left out of her carefully
worded diatribe against exploration and 'radical' experimentation had tossed
Americans more often than not into deep introspection. That introspection,
on the other hand, had actually deterred progress rather than advance it.
The Challenger Incident in 1986, the fuel leak on Intrepid in 1999, the
Russian space station Mir's orbital degradation in 2015--that had claimed
three American lives, the fire that erupted in Space Station Freedom's
oxygen tanks in 2034. Those were the most distant, yet surprisingly most
remembered, accidents that had stalled--and nearly killed--the American
drive into space. In 2050, the first truly civilian habitat on the moon
suffered severe atmospheric contamination, killing all fifty-eight of
America's latest wave of pioneers. The event finally killed the National Air
and Space Administration, and left the United States in a lull for nearly
twenty-five years. Then came the Chinese orbital colony. The new Chinese
threat to US space supremacy led to the scrambling assembly of the American
Space Development and Exploration Command. Now, after two centuries of
playing catch-up, the United States was once again on the verge of tossing
all her new prestige, power, and potential out of the airlock because of fear. 

The Congresswoman completed her remarks and began parceling off her
remaining ten minutes. Not surprising, the first speaker was a
representative of one of the American space colonies. Congressman Shelton
pulled the microphone towards him and locked his eyes on the Admiral's. 

"I thank the Gentlewoman from Ohio for yielding to me," his voice had that
strange, space-borne accent that Kim had grown accustomed to over the years;
the rich, almost nasal quality that developed on L-5's State of New
Chatelaine-Brunswick. Mr. Shelton was from 503rd District in that state.
"Like most of my colleagues on this committee, Admiral Kim, I am a
space-borne; representing the interests of the people most directly effected
by your policies. When Development and Exploration decided to upgrade the
CoDyne microwave transmitters, the new software and most of the new hardware
was produced within my district. Likewise, New Chatelaine-Brunswick leads
the nation in the production of interplanetary ships; our yards have churned
out both warships from the Naval Space Force as well as public-charter and
private merchant vessels. Obviously, it concerned my constituents as well as
myself when Development and Exploration passed Interplanetary Shipyard's bid
for involvement in Project STARLIGHT; however, that is neither here nor there." 

Laying it a little thick today, Kim patiently endured the political
posturing by reminiscing about her brief tour as the Accounting Office of
Space Exploration and Development Interests in Shipyards liaison officer to
New Chatelaine-Brunswick. Interplanetary Yards had an inventive, almost
humorous method of book-keeping, and the corporation almost made a killing
with a research subsidization Congress had approved--at Mr. Shelton's
impassioned request--against USSPACDEVEXCOM's recommendations. 

Almost, she reminded herself as a wry smile formed on her lips. Even
disregarding IY's notorious reputation for corruption, Development and
Exploration simply could not cart off Project STARLIGHT to any civilian
contractor; the technology was a closely guarded secret. Until now, of course. 

"While we may have established that STARLIGHT is now beyond our control, and
that the young brave soul we condemned with it is now forever lost to us, we
still must look and find out whether it was preventable. Possibly, a closer
relationship with the private sector would have..." 

II. 

Two years before the all the mind-numbing brouhaha that would surround
Project STARLIGHT, Lieutenant Commander James Westphal Reid, USNSF,
innocently sat cross-legged in the base hospital waiting room. Most of the
time, his hands were tightly wound up into fists, which he occasionally
relaxed to engage in time-honored pastime of thumb-twiddling. At the moment,
Reid had permitted his fists to open enough as to prevent bruising--it sure
felt as if he would bruise--as he glanced nervously at the out-patient desk
receptionist. A single man, he often appreciated the presence of an
attractive lady--the receptionist sitting behind the desk certainly fit that
category. Tall, lanky and of East Indian background, her soft, ebony hair
fell gracefully upon her bare shoulders. However, Reid's anxiety seemed to
peak even more as he tried to distract himself--if that receptionist could
not do it, he dare not imagine what could. 

"Well, well. How goes it, m'boy?" Reid nearly jumped out of his chair as his
head jerkily followed the voice to its owner. What remained of his composed,
collective thought processes quickly interpreted the new visual
information--particularly the heavily braided shoulder boards--and suggested
a proper response in kind. However, the anxious, half-frightened little boy
that once had a deathly fear of water in any form retained strict control
over Reid's mortal husk. His reaction was predictable. 

"Mis...mister...er...uh...Commander....oh shit," he tripped over his words
until it finally came out--a bit more forcibly than he would have liked.
"ADMIRAL CHAMBERS, SIR!!" 

His body snapped up to attention, stiff as starched cardboard, and he nearly
tore the Admiral's head off as his vicious salute cut through the air. It
barely paused before striking him in the forehead, and only the hand-to-hand
combat training he had received once or twice back at the Academy prevented
him from tumbling backwards onto the magazine table. Vice Admiral William
Chambers, United States Navy, wisely backed off, raising his hands in a
non-threatening gesture. As Reid finally gained his composure, he suddenly
felt very, very exposed; as if he were standing naked in front of a large
crowd. 

"At ease, son. Please." His hands rested on the younger man's shoulders. His
eyes shifted momentarily from the lieutenant commander to the receptionist;
a lecherous glint flickered across his blue irises. "Uh...geez, son. They
must have had you on stims for days on end!" 

Reid nodded. Actually, they had deprived him of sleep for damn near two
weeks. It was not his idea, but PsyCol's. After all, they did have to see
whether or not he would hold up for...well, whatever it was they wanted him
to do. At least the next test seemed a little less taxing on his
constitution--he would enter a drug-induced hypersleep for a week. Every
officer and rating in the United States Naval Space Force had to do a week
of hypersleep right after leaving Annapolis or the Great Lakes. Of course,
hypersleep was deathly cold--cryogenics and all. Drug-naps...he knew Special
Forces underwent that kind of training, but by reputation and the rumor-mill
only. Nobody knew much about those people beyond the fact they existed. 

"Well, Sir," Reid nearly surprised himself as his voice shed itself of the
quavering uncertainty that crept in his veins. "It's been rough, but I'm
holding up. I'm not sure about Rach--I mean Commander Wilkes, Sir." 

"Rachel's doing quite well," the Admiral almost mumbled. "Why don't you take
a walk with me, son? We'll talk about these tests of yours" 


*  *  *

+-----------------+-<The Badass Reverend of Funk Prez>---+
|    Presley H.   | Political Science / Computer Science |
|    Cannady II   | and Electrical Engineering Undergrad |
|<revprez@mit.edu>| at the Mass. Institute of Technology |
+-----------------+-<Anime Manga Development Group>------+
+     Author of Liars and Dreamers, a Robotech fanfic    +
+-------<http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/1731/index.html>-+
| MIDN 4/c A-2-2 SQD, MIT-Harvard-Tufts NROTC Battalion  |
|_|"The art of war is of vital importance to the state"|_|