"Exactly. It's a no-win situation; I'm becoming frustrated before even making the announcement that I'm running," Brighton said. "I know I put myself in this position by speaking right after the accident without hearing your opinion or future plans."

"That's right," Marshall said smugly, trying to prod anger from Brighton. "You did not consult with me and now it's costing you."

"By no means did I ever think that you'd allow construction to continue without even a serious inquiry into what went wrong," Brighton fired back.

Marshall shrugged his shoulders, as if he'd never even given serious thought to Brighton's consideration. Brighton leaned forward in his chair.

"Do you really think a cursory investigation into the accident-conducted by the same group of men who caused the accident-is enough to satisfy the public about the station's safety?"

"Satisfying the public is not my concern," Marshall said.

The vice-President leaned back and sighed deeply, growing frustrated to the point of defeat.

"How can you sit back and be so relaxed about letting construction continue? A decision so many people disagree with."

Marshall finally felt Brighton was ready to know some real answers.

"The reason I'm not concerned about the public's opinion is simple. Construction can't be stopped, for reasons that the public and the media don't know about at the present moment," Marshall said.

"If you'd only told me that earlier, this would've been much easier. I can finally shed some light on the situation to the public. That response would be a great PR move for me," Brighton said, sarcasm oozing from his voice. "I can simply tell the world that construction will go on because I know something they don't know."

"You'd be wrong in that statement," Marshall said. "It's not that the public doesn't know what I know. It's that the public can't know what I do."

Brighton shook his head, frustrated that the President seemed to play games throughout this entire meeting.

"What are you trying to say?" Brighton asked. "Just level with me. You don't care about your reputation but mine is on the line just as much as yours. It would be great if I at least knew why my good name is going to be ruined. I think you at least owe me that much."

President Marshall unlocked a drawer in his desk and extracted a folder. The folder was labeled "CLASSIFIED".

"You're right, Andrew. You do deserve to know the truth," Marshall said. "And I would like to apologize to you in advance for not telling you sooner. You could've been a great ally to our cause but with the health struggles of your family, I did not want to burden you with any more problems than you already had."

For the first time since their meeting began, Brighton recognized sincerity in the President.

"What's in the folder?"

"Have you ever heard the name Clement before?"

Peter Mansfield waited patiently outside the Oval Office for nearly an hour. He listened as Mae buzzed the President twice to remind him of upcoming meetings; twice, Marshall told her to call and reschedule. If the President was taking this long with Brighton, he must be telling his vice-President everything.

When the door to the Oval Office finally opened and Brighton emerged, he did not look like the same friendly man Mansfield saw an hour before. He had a faraway look in his eye, a shocked expression on his face, as if he'd just driven by a grisly traffic accident.

Or maybe he just found out that the world was coming to an end...

The Chief of Staff stood up and approached Brighton.

"Is everything okay, Vice-President Brighton?" he asked.

Brighton walked by Mansfield without saying a word or looking in his direction, but Mansfield did not think it was simply a rude gesture. The vice-President hadn't seemed to notice Mansfield was even there.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO.

SEPTEMBER 30, 2015.

The week Wesley Maddox spent giving recruitment speeches was not as bad as he expected. He followed in the footsteps of his first speech at MIT, using honesty with the students, not trying to force them into thinking the construction program was all sparkles and sunshine. If there was one thing Maddox could remember about himself in his early 20s at college, it was that he did not want to be told by anyone how to think.

Although the ultimate decisions about the program-including which students to be admitted-would be made by Slava Kovalchuk and James Armour, Maddox already received positive feedback from his recruiting trips. Over a thousand applications had been returned in the first two weeks. Nobody expected half of the applications to be needed, let alone more needing to be printed. The students were far more open to the program than the negative media attention might have projected. The government would have a difficult task choosing the best of the best candidates.

And that didn't include the top Russian prospects. An agreement was already made with Russian President Metachenko to send many of the youngest and brightest potential cosmonauts. If the organizers of the construction program had known American college students would show so much interest, nobody would've requested Russian imports.

Now that his part in the construction program was finished, Maddox had a few weeks of free time before catching the next shuttle ride back to the space station. Following a short visit with his parents, Maddox went to ground mission control, where he spent time learning how the ground crew communicated with space mission control. It had been good to hear from Slava, good to hear that construction continued as usual and was incident-free. But speaking to his Russian counterpart made Maddox realize how much he missed being in space and leading the operation.

After a few days at mission control, Maddox realized his presence was not needed. The men at this facility were well trained and did not need him standing over their shoulders. Maddox was left with only one place to go.

Although the sun appeared in the early morning sky only twenty minutes earlier, the heat at the Arizona construction facility was already sweltering. Upon arriving at his old stomping grounds, Maddox immediately noted the stark contrast between the two places where he'd spent his time working during the previous few years. While the desert was always hot, even when there was air conditioning, space was always cold, even when Maddox was wrapped in his insulated bed. But as Maddox stared at his surroundings, he realized how both of the harsh environments were equally desolate and lonely.

He made the long walk from the parking area to the trailer that had served as his headquarters and office for nearly two years. Despite not being at the construction site in five months, Maddox still remembered the exact number of steps from the parking area to the part of the fence where hordes of media waited.

Different from his memory was the number of media members who waited for him. Less than six months ago, Maddox could not walk by this area, no matter what time of day or night, without seeing at least a dozen photographers and reporters. But now, only a few local news vans were parked by the gate. He saw a few people sitting in the vans but not a single person was willing to stand outside and brave the hot sun.

If only it could've been like this the last two years, Maddox thought, enjoying the silence. While he hadn't announced his visit to the construction site, he was still surprised that the extensive media presence faded so much when he was not around.

When Maddox walked into the large trailer, his former secretary was shocked to see him.

"Mr. Maddox, what are you doing here?" she said, standing up and walking toward him. He extended his hand but she ignored it and hugged him. "It's so good to see you home safely. I mean, I heard you were back on Earth, but I never expected to see you here."

"Don't get used to it," Maddox said. "I'm heading back to space in a week or two, as soon as the next shuttle is ready to launch. How have things been around here?"

"Hectic as ever," she said. "But the press finally stopped hounding everyone. We're about to take the next major step in the construction process."

"And I think you're going to be very pleased with our progress," a man said, as he walked out of the office that used to be Maddox's.

Chris Uston was a senior member of the space station design crew at McNalley & Jones, left in charge of the construction facility once Maddox began his work in space. After exchanging quick greetings, Maddox quickly turned to the business at hand.

"The pods?" Maddox asked. "Construction on them is proceeding as planned?"

"Of course," Uston said. "We started the first one about a month ago."

"You should see it, Mr. Maddox," his secretary said. "The pod is amazing."

"Let's go see it."

The lack of media was not the only difference Maddox noticed about the construction site. Burly Marine guards used be stationed at the entrances of every building at the facility, but the construction hangar housing the first pod was unguarded. Uston explained that the amount of attention the facility received significantly decreased once space construction began. Dozens of guards were no longer needed throughout the facility, as most of the public assumed not much work was happening here.

"If they only knew we had this inside," Uston said as he and Maddox entered the hangar and saw the nearly-completed pod.

Twenty-five feet high and thirty feet wide, the pod appeared spherical from across the hangar, all of its edges rounded. Maddox approached the structure, awe-struck at seeing his design actually built. He soon realized the pod was really more box-shaped. The pod was huge, the first of over a hundred of these that had to built. Building and transporting these pods to space would be a long and arduous process, but it wasn't one the project leader wanted to think about just yet. Right now, he only wanted to revel in the apparent success of the pod design.

"Looks like you made good progress on this over the last month," Maddox said, not wanting to gush too about the job Uston had done. The man sometimes got a big head when receiving too much praise "Since most of ground construction on the station's other building blocks are mostly complete, these pods were next on the list," Uston said. "As of a month ago, we let most of the unskilled laborers finish hammering out the remaining cookie-cutter building materials for the space station. We pulled the truly skillful engineers and designers off their usual jobs and had them concentrate on the pod. Since this is the first of over a hundred to make, we wanted the perfect model to copy in the future. I think we did a pretty good job."

"This one is completely ready to go then?" Maddox asked.

"There are a few minor additions and tweaks to make but for all intents and purposes, this one is done," Uston said.

"I want to go inside."

The entrance was ten feet off of the ground, with a five-foot doorway located in the center of the pod. This would be the section of pod connected to the space station, which would provide an opening to the living quarters for the pod's occupants. To reach the entrance, Maddox had to climb scaffolding.

Maddox ducked through the five-foot doorway but didn't stoop low enough and cracked his head on the metal structure.

"You couldn't have made this entrance a little bigger?" the project leader asked, jokingly. After all, he had been the one to design the small doorway. Uston must not have recognized Maddox's sarcasm because he answered the question as though the project leader truly wanted to know.

"We didn't build doorways and rooms on the pod the same way we would build them on Earth," Uston said. "With the lack of gravitational limitations imposed on the occupants of these pods, we made the doorways smaller because people won't be walking through them, they'll be floating headfirst through them. And as you'll see in a moment, the eight separate rooms inside the pod will be very small for Earth standards but they'll seem roomier in space. With no gravity, people will be able to use the upper halves of the rooms that go unused on Earth. With the restraints we have on room, comfort and luxury weren't high on our list of priorities."

Once he ducked into the pod, Uston clicked on a flashlight to see in the dark. The only light that entered the pod came from the doorway and a small, round window at the end of a hallway that was twenty feet long. Again, the hallway was only about five feet high, as Maddox had to crouch to avoid smashing his head on the ceiling.

"Now this is where you have to be very careful, Wes," Uston said, leading the way into the hallway. He shined light on the floor in front of them, illuminating two large holes on the floor. "The final step is installing doors for each of the rooms. Be sure to watch your step or you'll plunge ten feet straight down."

Uston stood aside and allowed Maddox to pass, handing the project leader the flashlight. Maddox took a few steps forward and shined the light around the hallway. Joining the two large holes on the floor of the hall were two equally sized holes in the left wall, the right wall and the ceiling, which led to each of the rooms aboard the pod.

Maddox carefully sidestepped the first hole on the floor and climbed into the first hole along the right wall. The room was about twelve feet wide and six feet high, the ceiling high enough for him to stand upright. Maddox was surprised at the amount of space. At the time he designed the pods, he thought sectioning eight rooms would result in space being more cramped.

The room was mostly empty, but Maddox knew that everything a person needed to survive was already installed. As part of a space-saving technique, the room was designed with drawers built into the wall. Attached to one of the walls was a lever. When Maddox twisted it, a hidden compartment opened to show a significant amount of storage room. He closed this compartment and found another tiny lever against the opposite wall. When he turned this one, a slab of metal lowered, revealing the pod's bed. Attached to the wall where the bed hung was a rolled-up mattress that could be connected to the slab of metal to make sleeping more comfortable. He lifted the bed, which was surprisingly heavy, back into its place and secured it by turning the lever.

The only thing in the pod's room not attached to a hidden compartment was a small stationary bike bolted to the floor in the corner. Every single room aboard the space station would contain this bike, which had unusual straps dangling from it. These straps would hold a person onto the bike and prevent anyone from floating away. The bikes were a crucial part of survival for every person who'd live aboard the space station. In an environment without gravity, a passenger's muscles would begin to deteriorate due to lack of use. Those living in space for long periods of time would need to exercise on a daily basis. Maddox and the construction teams were used to that already. Even though Maddox put in an hour of exercise every day, it still took him a few days before he got enough strength back in his legs to walk unattended back on Earth.

Next to the bike was a small red button, which Maddox pushed to reveal two industrial-strength bungee cords, one attached to the wall and the other attached to the floor. These would also be used for exercise and would allow passengers to work out every muscle in their bodies using a variety of different exercises. Free weights would be too easy to lift in zero gravity, so stretching and pulling these bungee cords provided resistance to strengthen muscles.

Impressed with the progress of his well-laid designs for the pod's room, Maddox walked back out into the hall. He headed toward the end of the hall, briefly glancing out the window at the end. Once attached to the space station, this window would provide a spectacular view for the passengers. Maddox wanted to install a window in every room of every pod, but doing that would prove too costly and time-consuming.

The only other addition to the pod was one final room at the end of the hallway. This was the only room that already had its door installed, the most important room that required privacy: the bathroom. Of everything that changed once Maddox started working in space, the one thing that took longest to get used to was using the bathroom. This bathroom was similar to the one Maddox used in space: footstraps and thigh bars to keep the user in place, the familiar hose and big red button to activate the complex air flow system.

Satisfied that everything was built to perfection, Maddox emerged from the bathroom and found Uston waiting by the pod's entrance.

"I hope passengers aboard the space station aren't claustrophobic," the project leader said.

"I know," Uston agreed. "The workers putting this first pod together nicknamed it the beehive. Let's hope everyone living in these pods are friendly with one another 'cause there's no chance to avoid them."

"At least the rooms feel bigger than I'd thought," Maddox said. "Jeez, my dorm room in college was smaller than these and I had to share it with two other people."

Maddox and Uston emerged from the pod and walked around the huge structure.

"So how long do you think it'll take to build the next one?" Maddox asked.

"Like I said, this one took about a month but a lot of extra time was added to figure out the best way to build each part," Uston said. "Plus, the number of workers we had was limited. But overall, I'd say the next one should take no more than a few weeks, three at the most. Once we finish work on the rest of the construction pieces and all the workers can focus solely on building these, I think we'll be knocking them out on a weekly basis."

Maddox circled the pod three times, absorbing every possible detail. It was perfect, or at least as perfect as he'd imagined from the moment his design team came up with it. A small part of Maddox was disappointed that things ran so smoothly in his absence but not having to deal with headaches made his job much easier.

"You've done a good job here, Chris," Maddox said. "I'm glad I have someone in charge who can get things done right. Actually, if you keep getting everything done without problems, I'll be nervous that they might replace me with you one day."

Uston laughed and shook his head.

"Nah, I don't think I'd work too well in space," he said. "I can't even ride a roller coaster without getting nauseous."

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE.

NOVEMBER 11, 2015.

FOUR YEARS, NINE MONTHS, ELEVEN DAYS UNTIL IMPACT...

"I'm sorry for such short notice but can you pencil him in at this time?" a woman's voice asked.

Robert Minko could not believe his ears. From the moment the secretary on the other end of the phone line introduced herself and whom she was representing, Minko could only think one thing: this was a prank. But Minko usually handled these kinds of calls in less than a few minutes by asking questions the caller could not answer, thus exposing the lie.

This woman knew all the answers and Minko came to the conclusion that this call was the real deal.

But why would he want to talk to me when there's a city full of better-known reporters and newspapers? Minko thought.

Minko worked for the D.C. Gazette, a newspaper that was lucky to sell five percent of what the Washington Post sold on a daily basis. The Post was one of the most respected and well-read newspapers in the entire world and Minko had tried to get a job there ever since he broke into the journalistic field. That was nearly twenty years ago, and since then his resume had been rejected at least fifty times. He considered himself lucky to land a job at the Gazette but after the first few years working at the smaller newspaper, Minko realized his career was growing staler with every article he wrote.

He finally accepted that not everybody could work for the biggest and best papers in the world. Resigned to the fact that he'd be stuck forever at the Gazette, Minko began slacking off on the job, not attacking every lead like it was a potential Pulitzer-winning story. His writing suffered because of this and even though his bosses never had any complaints about his stories, Minko lost all respect for himself as a reporter. But the work paid the bills and became much more relaxing since he lost the urge for success.

At least until he received this call and began dreaming again of the possibilities.

"Sure, I'll clear as much time as he needs. Does he want to meet me somewhere private to avoid being seen talking to a reporter?" Minko asked.

"That won't be necessary," the secretary said. "He has nothing to hide. In fact, he wants to know if it would be okay if he could come to your office for the interview."

My office? Minko thought with a chuckle, looking around at the tiny cubicle he shared with the editor of the sports section. The building that housed the Gazette was very unimpressive, smack dab in the center of an area of D.C. that few politicians ever visited. In fact, the only person in the entire building who even had an office was the Editor-in-Chief, and her private space was nothing more than an oversized supply closet. But Minko was sure she would let him borrow it to conduct an interview of this magnitude.