nose, tilted his head forward and spoke directly to Ms. Piranha. “That would mean your boss would have to eat a little crow and ease off on her comments about pork spending in the farm states.”
“I’ll see what we can do” was her only response.
Ross watched and inwardly smiled. He knew that her boss would do what it would take to get support for NASA. Her state simply had too much to lose if the money for the Moon contracts stopped flowing. Losing thousands of jobs just before one’s six-year term in the Senate was about to be over didn’t do a lot for one’s reelection chances.
In every group of lobbyists, there was always one who looked the part. In this case, it was Dr. T. Rathbone Smythe of the Aerospace and Aviation Advocacy Committee, or the AAAC, as it preferred to be called. Smythe could have been forty, fifty or even fifty-five years old—old enough to convey experience and authority but not too old as to appear out of touch. With carefully groomed salt-and-pepper hair, and only a hint of a receding hairline, a finely chiseled face and an ever-present tan, Smythe was the type of person who inspired confidence. Living up to his aristocratic-sounding name, Smythe was also a smooth talker and was comfortable making small talk with just about everyone. He was an equal with the elite and a paternalistic supporter of those with lesser social status. Smythe could play the game at all levels. He cleared his throat and entered his opinion into the conversation.
“I can get the other two votes. Senator Lipman is running short on cash for his reelection campaign, and I think our members can step up to the plate to make sure his coffers get refilled.” Smythe looked at the handout showing the funds being spent in a certain Northeastern state—the one which the senator in question called home.
“Good.” Ross nodded.
“It would help if these numbers were a little higher.” Smyth aimed the comment directly at the NASA Administrator.
“I guess it would.” Ross smiled, slightly bemused. “Mr. Smythe, there isn’t anything I can do about that. Believe it or not, the career civil servants who make these sorts of decisions are usually quite honest in their reviews, and I could go to jail if I were to try and influence the peer-review process.
“In addition, as you are well aware, contracts are awarded in a competitive process that sometimes takes years from start to finish. Even if I could influence the process, there simply isn’t time.” Ross didn’t want the conversation to go in this direction, especially with so many potential witnesses in the room. He had to shut down that line of discussion before it went places that he didn’t care to go.
“Calvin, I wouldn’t dream of asking you to do anything unethical. I’m just saying the tasks themselves need more money.” Smythe made a convincing response. He took Ross’s hint and moved on. “The other vote, well, let’s just say I think I can convince another member of the committee to oppose the amendment.” He took a long pause before continuing. “Let’s just say that a favor is owed.”
Ross, again running his hands through his hair, looked around the room at the faces of the aids and lobbyists gathered there.
“Let’s do it, then. The amendment will be offered sometime next week. Can we get the support to kill it in place by then?”
One by one, heads in the room nodded—all of them. When compared to the overall federal budget, NASA’s budget was small. But when put on an individual or corporate level, its eighteen-billion-dollar annual appropriation was still enough to make many people rich, and it was simply too much to be ignored by anyone with half a brain. And these people, and the ones they represented, certainly had more than half a brain when it came to the dog- eat-dog of politics.
One week later, the amendment offered by the Chair of the Senate Appropriations Committee, an amendment to reduce wasteful spending on a boondoggle program to explore the Moon and to channel the money instead into Education for the nation’s vulnerable youth, went down to defeat. The Honorable Senator Newsome, the author of the amendment, was not pleased.
Watching from the gallery, NASA Administrator Calvin Ross
Chapter 14
Stetson heard the news from his Houston office, as he was reviewing the latest landing-site recommendations from Dr. Morton’s team. Like most in his generation, Stetson was an expert at multitasking the inflow of information. Instant messages, e-mail, tweets, texts, and a customized space news feed scrolling across the lower portion of his computer screen and cell phone were simply part of his everyday life, and he didn’t seem fazed by the constant flood of often-irrelevant data. One headline scrolling across his computer’s news bar did catch his eye.
space race heats up as chinese launch unmanned mission to the moon
He glanced away from Morton’s charts and clicked on the headline.
“What the hell?” Stetson cursed before picking up his cell phone and calling Jim England. At first, he didn’t think his friend was going to answer. The phone had just started to roll over into voice mail when he heard the familiar Southern drawl of his colleague. “Yeah-us, hello?”
“Jim, this is Bill. Did you hear about the Chinese launch? It’s on the ticker now.”
“Yeah, I heard. I haven’t gotten anything through channels, only what I’ve seen on the Net. Looks like we’re going to beat ’em—but not by much. I doubt they can turn around another launch before you go. If they hadn’t decided to play it safe with a test, we’d be looking up at a Chinese Moon in a few days.”
“Luck, all right. I really don’t like the idea of us being second to anyone in space, and this is all just too close for comfort. And can you believe that Senator Newsome? We’re not even on the Moon yet, and he tried to pull the rug out from under us. I wonder if he will say anything about the Chinese.” Stetson could barely contain himself. As he
