He made his way to the rear of Mission Control Center, hoping to make a quiet, unnoticed exit. He made a final survey of the room, tried to remember all the history he’d seen over the years, acknowledge his own contributions.
Seeing Brown heading to the exit, Allan Warner broke away from his console and called out. “Hey, Brown, you’re not leaving us, are you?” But Warner already knew his answer. He’d felt Brown’s retirement was coming. The successful rescue mission had afforded Brown a chance to make a clean break. “You’re not staying around for the champagne?”
“My work is through here, Allan.”
Warner knew this could easily be the last time he would see Brown. Brown was the kind of guy who when he said good-bye, he meant it. Good-bye never meant so long, or see you later.
“What? No final words?” Warner asked, poking at Brown.
Brown smiled back but said nothing, kept walking. When Brown finally reached the door, he stopped and looked back. Warner had already rejoined his group.
Figures, Brown thought. Life sure moves on. But Brown did have a comment.
“Hey Warner,” Brown called out.
Warner looked up, as did the others standing around the flight control console.
“Prove she’s safe to fly!” Brown admonished.
“We will! We will!” Warner countered.
Brown stood at the doorway for several seconds, his glare fixed on Warner.
“We will,” Warner said again, serious now.
Brown said nothing more. His expression communicated an array of sentiments.
Brown headed down a hallway that led out to the parking lot for Building 30. He pushed on the darkly tinted exterior door, realizing it was likely the last time he’d leave the historic building.
“So what, you fly here to Houston so you can watch the show from the big monitors,” a woman’s voice called at Brown’s back, “but then don’t stay around for the party? What’s up with that?” Pollard caught Brown just before he let the door swing closed.
“I just left the control room, Julie. Best I can tell, the confetti’s already hit the floor.”
Pollard walked right up to Brown. She had always respected him, but never feared him. “Cynical to the bitter end. Well, you’re wrong this time. The parties are going to go on well into the night, probably for the next week, actually.”
“No doubt they will,” Brown conceded. “I’m happy for you, really I am, you did a great job right to the end.”
“So what now? You have a look on your face that says you won’t be coming back. Do I need to say my final good-bye to you?” Pollard asked, her eyes never leaving Brown’s.
“How come you’re only the second person to ask me that question? You, and a friend of mine. No one else even asked.”
“Maybe we’re the only two people who know, or maybe the rest aren’t smart enough to realize what they’ll be missing. You’re not exactly the most forthcoming when it comes to your personal life. My guess is that you like a quiet escape, even though you may complain about it.”
Brown held his response, appeared to consider what Pollard had said. “I like you, Julie Pollard, you’re sharp in so many ways. And damn cute, too,” he added, aware but not caring that in some employee handbook he’d crossed the line. “NASA could use more like you.” If only I were a little younger, Brown thought. Pollard seemed like one of a scarce few who understood him. “My days here are done, Julie, I’ve done all I can.”
Pollard hesitated a moment then said, “Hey, uh, if ever I need someone to talk to, you know if I get in over my head here or something, can I call you?”
“Of course, anytime,” Brown replied. He reached into his sport coat pocket for a business card. He turned, placing the card against the wall and with a pen wrote down his number for her. “That’s my cell number, call me anytime.”
Pollard grabbed the arm of Brown’s sport coat. “Thanks for all your guidance over the years, you’re one of a kind,” she said with a soft, genuine tone. Then she leaned in and kissed his cheek. Brown noted Julie’s kiss was tender and measured. She first released her kiss, then, slowly, the arm of his sport coat.
Brown pushed the tinted door open once again and squinted into the hazy Houston sunshine. He turned back for a final look as he walked out to his rental car. Brown had been spared multiple good-byes, and as Pollard had assessed, that was just fine with him. When he reached the car, he took off his sport coat. He opened the rear door of the Buick and laid his coat across the back seat. He closed the door just as his cell phone began to ring.
“Ken Brown,” he said. In the instant before the caller spoke, Brown caught himself hoping it was Julie calling him already.
“So, I guess congratulations are in order,” Stangley said.
“Hey, you’re calling from KSC right?”
“Yeah, we’ll be hanging around here for another day or so. I’ve scheduled interviews with astronauts from both crews. You know, standard stuff. Oh, hey, by the way,” Stangley added before Brown had a chance to say anything, “I think I figured out why you emailed me.”
“You what?”
“The scoop, you know, why you e-mailed me the scoop.”
“And why is that, Stangley?”
“Well, you’ve always been outspoken about the foam-loss problem.”
“Yes, it’s something that I felt needed to be addressed. Now that Atlantis is back
