Cafeteria Pi (JL of Cassie and Morrison)

[Dvokr chim Hok 0]

Cafeteria Pi

 

 

Semper vigilans had its advantages. Every move, every turn, every change of venue brought new information. So far Cass had seen nothing out of the ordinary at Kennedy Space Center, but when she focused on the area’s weak points, its strong points, and the potential areas of attack, the vulnerabilities were mind-boggling.

 

She had studied earth history, but until she actually experienced the primitive environment that took the first men into space and then to the moon she really did not understand. Formulae spread helter-skelter on Dr. Jeb Goldstein’s whiteboards were calculations Cass had learned in grade school. Some of his reference books she’d seen in the ‘Early Space History’ section of her high school library. The machines they called computers were so slow and the coding so elementary that a third grader could hack it blindfolded.

 

“... so what do you think?” Jeb sat facing her, his expression eager, expectant.

 

“Hm? What? Oh,” said Cass, pressing her glasses to the bridge of her nose as she uncrossed her legs to lean forward. Her clipboard clattered to the floor and she reached down to retrieve it. Shift in concentration. Big mistake.

 

Jeb eyed her a minute. “The solution to a possible failure of....?” He stopped suddenly and leaned back, arms crossed. “Know what? I’ve been talking your ear off all morning. How about you grab a bite and we pick up after lunch?”

 

...or maybe not such a big mistake. “Oh, thank you,” she sighed, fumbling to gather her things. “For a minute I thought maybe you were one of those scientists who never ate or slept. Are you coming?”

 

He waved a hand. “Nah. Bring my standard liverwurst sandwich. Keeps me going until dinner. Which reminds me....” The front legs of his chair gave a thud as he stood to escort her out. “I hear they brought you and a bunch of others from out of town. Wife and I’d like to have you over for dinner some time. Think that’d be possible?”

 

“Oh, Thank you. I’d like that.”

 

A half hour later found her in the cafeteria chatting with John Randall. Reflections in shiny chrome counters and glass windows as well as movement in the BFT* built into her left ocular allowed her to monitor movement in and out of the room. Outside, Gonzales had apparently taken O’Neill’s place to wander between cars in the parking lot, occasionally glancing in the direction of the cafeteria as people came and went.

 

Having arrived late, Cass was still eating when John excused himself, so she absorbed herself in the events of the morning until the ocular alerted her to Morrison, approaching from the rear.

 

Morrison, who seemed to have no first name, walked up behind Cass with a tray containing today’s special. His timing normally meant the other was already finished, but perhaps this time. “I finally found someone to speak to,” he said in a relieved tone. “May I?” He gestured to the chair. It seemed pulled away from the table as if someone recently left.

 

“Oh,” Cass jerked up, dropping her fork in feigned surprise. “Of.. of course.” She glanced around. “Wow, it’s nearly one and still crowded. Please.”

 

“Big things are happening or will happen...should happen? I have spoken to so many people today. It’s busy all over. This is nearly as busy as this place will get, historically speaking.” He sat down in the chair and pulled it forward. Before him lay country fried steak, a fruit cup and actual corn on the cob. He dug in. “So,” between bites, “what have you found out that’s not been thrown over the main channel?”

 

“The main channel?” She tossed him a puzzled look. “Oh. What people are talking about. Well,” she pushed her glasses up for the umpteenth time. “A lot, even though I’m new. I’m working with Dr. Goldstein, in aerospace engineering, main building. It’s interesting. Where are you working?” Cass repositioned her clipboard-padd, supposedly more out of the way, but allowing Morrison to view its contents as she launched into her pie.

 

“Oh, thank you,” referring to the clipboard. “Believe it or not they put me in the Mission Control room. I spent a lot of time with introductions. Some names I remember and some not.” He bit into the corn. It brought him back to his time as a boy. He continued. “Everything looks good in the control room. How’s the dessert?”

 

“Oh, it’s fine. Well, as good as it could be for a cafeteria.” She shrugged. “I can’t imagine working in Mission Control. It must be exciting.” Shifting slightly, she moved the clipboard again, pressed a finger against it and a highlighted area of the complex appeared. She gave it a tap. “I think at some point you might want to take pictures, if they’ll let you. You know, to show your children and grandchildren?” Her eyes flashed in his direction briefly, then she was back to dessert.

 

Morrison nodded as he sliced into his chicken. “I think they would like pictures. You’d like them too? What kind of angles should I get? I’m not much of a photographer.” He had taken shots when he could of the Mission Control room, but initial glances revealed little. “I’ll try to get there after the briefing this afternoon.”

 

“Oh, if I were in Mission Control I’d take several angles, maybe a few closeups of the people you’re working with. When they’re developed you might even get them autographed.” Her fingertips rubbed together, indicating fingerprints. “I plan to get a picture with Dr. Goldstein.”

 

“That you should,” he nodded in agreement. Morrison remembered the incident from this morning. Flicking his name badge, he explained. “I was in the doghouse myself earlier this morning. Wife kept me waiting. It was like she did not know who I was. She probably forgot to mail in the proper forms.” He was naturally not referring to his actual wife, if he had one. He thought for a moment. “However, the family is doing well. The party is on. With that in mind I need to do a good deed at this meeting. They are heavy coffee drinkers here. Plenty photo ops to be had.”

 

“Never hurts to sweeten the pot,” she said, grinning over her iced tea. “How long does she keep you in the doghouse?”

 

“I think she’s forgiven me. I had to wait a while as she reconsidered. Could have derailed the party. Had me sweating, but now I am in the clear.” He smiled widely. Later he was sure someone would mention checking ones credentials more carefully.

 

Just beyond the window, Cass noticed Kal on approach. Her earbud engaged on the Marine channel.

 

“Kahuna on point. Bogey on watch.”

 

A brief report, nothing to respond to. Moa, aka Kahuna, had taken up position at the launch site and they were watching someone or something suspicious. Cass turned her attention back to Morrison. “You about finished?”

 

“Mmm hmm,” he mumbled, chowing down the last of his meal. “Lots of things to do before the launch, even if you take out the photos. You married?” Morrison asked at her mention of a wedding.

 

“No,” she said offhandedly. “I have my career to think of,” she said, referring to Delta, “haven’t even thought of marriage.”

 

“Oh don’t discount it. Sure I’m divorced now, but.. perhaps that does not sell it. You are right, career does get in the way.” Morrison had cleared his plate of all the food. “What is next for the rest of your day?”

 

Cass pushed her tray aside. “Oh, more facts and figures I guess. Working on a backup plan for the lunar lander. I’m sure it’ll be interesting.”

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*BFT: Blue Force Tracker