Prepared For Rage

"Good luck," Mr. Munro said.

They all enjoyed a good laugh at that.

Kenai's father had a near miss with the Darwin sorter on the boat davit, and Cal got another big laugh when he described the little PA so blinded by love for Kenai that he'd run right into it. Mrs. Munro-"Call me Doreen."-demanded more news of Kenai's visit.

"What's involved in offshore security for a shuttle launch?" Nick said.

"Now, there's a question," Cal said. They were on the bridge. "Let's go down to the wardroom and get some coffee, and I'll walk you through it."

They disposed themselves around the wardroom table and Seaman Trimble was sent down to the mess deck for some of FS2's baked goodies while Cal made them both americanos. "You have an espresso machine on Munro7." Nick said.

"Well, of course," Cal said with a poker face. "It's probably one of the more important contributors to crew morale."

"It's the single most important contributor to your morale, sir," Seaman Trimble said.

The Munros laughed. "You're on report for insubordination, Trimble," Cal said. "Dismissed."

Trimble gri

The baked goodies were found to be snickerdoodles, which Doreen pronounced divine.

"Okay," Cal said, "security on a shuttle mission. To begin with, there's an eight-mile security zone around the launch pad. Nobody unauthorized in or out for the duration."

"That's boats," Nick said. "What about aircraft?"

"There is a no-low-fly zone of twenty nautical miles. Believe it or not there are some private pilots out there who think they can do a flyby of a shuttle launch."

"Oh, I believe it," Nick said. "So, is the Munro the only sea-based security presence during the launch?"

"God, no," Cal said. "There are four small boats, two twenty-five-footers, and two shallow water boats. They're working from the shoreline to two nautical miles out. Then there are two forty-seven-foot MLBs- motor life boats-working two to six nautical miles out. A CPB-a coastal patrol boat, an eighty-seven-footer-usually acts as OSC, or on-scene commander, of all the Coast Guard assets working the mission. They're usually the offshore enforcement and response vessel."

"Usually?"

"Usually," Cal said. "Theoretically, an MEC or medium endurance cutter is the OSC, but in practice D7, the operational district responsible for this area, never has any available MECs. Not enough assets, and of course they never know how long those assets will be tied up."

"Because of launch delays," Nick said. "Kenai warned us. What's the forecast?"

"Weather's not looking like a problem," Cal said. "But it's July. Hurricane season. You never know. At any rate, Munro is OSC for this launch."

Nick smiled at his wife. "Because Kenai's on board the shuttle."

"Yes."

"And because she's related to Douglas Munro."

"Yes."

"Our tax dollars at work," Doreen said.

Cal laughed. "That's right."

"I like boat rides," Doreen said, twinkling at Cal.

"Me, too," Cal said, gri

"What else?" Nick said.

"We've also got a HU-25 Falcon patrolling a one-hundred-fifty-nautical-mile safety zone."

"Medium-range fan jet," Nick said. "Fast, too, got a cruising speed of over four hundred knots."

Cal shrugged. "If you say so, Nick. I don't do airplanes. The Falcon will make sure there are no vessels in the way of falling boosters."

Or shuttle parts, they all thought.

"Recently, we've added an MH-90 HITRON-an armed helicopter- as an air intercept asset. If necessary, it will enforce the no-low-fly zone."

"Impressive," Nick said.

"Reassuring," Doreen said tartly.

Nick gri

"Or what," Cal said. "We report to the Range Operations Center. The ROC reports to the Forty-fifth Space Wing of the U.S. Air Force."

"I didn't even know the Air Force had a space wing," Doreen said. She looked at her husband. "It sounds so, I don't know, what am I trying to say?"

"Thrilling?" Nick said.

"I was going to say Heinleinian," she said.

"Fictional?" Nick said.

"No. More like we've already got such a permanent presence in space that we've got a whole arm of the U.S. Air Force supporting our presence there."

"We do," Cal said.

"I guess so," she said. "I wonder if Kenai knows."

"I bet she does," Nick said, quirking an eyebrow at Cal, who smothered a grin. "What happens on Munro during the launch?"

"Munro will run security from Combat," Cal said, "you remember, from the operations center three decks down?"

"Are there often a lot of offshore security problems during launches?" Nick said.

Cal smiled at his deceptively mild tone, and shook his head. "No," he said. "Not unless you count the charter skippers whose clients sign up for a shot at a game fish and, what the hell, since we're in the area, how about a front-row seat to the launch, too, or the drunk driving the Liberty Bay-liner who can't resist coming in for a closer look." He reflected. "I'm told there's the occasional poacher, hunting alligator. The place is virtually a game preserve, no hunting, trapping, and especially no shooting. But that's about it. Most people are sensible, they know enough to stay out of the area during a launch, or if they want to watch to go to one of the official viewing areas."

"Have you ever seen a launch, Cal?"

"No, I'm ashamed to say I haven't, Doreen, except on television," Cal said. "I'm looking forward to it."

"How close will we be?"

"How close? Well," Cal said, sitting back and steepling his fingers in an exaggeratedly pontifical gesture, "we are going to have media on board for this launch and, I'm told, at least one admiral. And then there's you. The Coast Guard is, shall we say, very excited about the public relations opportunity inherent in having you on board a Coast Guard cutter to watch your daughter go into space, all three of you descendants of the only Coastie to have been awarded the Medal of Honor."

"Relatives, not descendants," Nick said.

"Whatever," Cal said. He dropped the steeple and gri

"Which means?" Doreen said.

"I aim to take us in as close as we can get without ru

"When we said we'd do this, the man at NASA told us it wouldn't be as exciting as being on the grandstand."

"Distances over water are very deceiving," Cal said. "It will feel much closer than that. The sound of it will get to us a few moments after the fact, but that's true onshore as well."

"How many reporters will be on board?" Doreen said. "I do hate it when they shove microphones in my face and ask me how I feel about my only child being an astronaut."

"There were plenty of times when you wanted to launch her into orbit yourself," Nick said.

"Back when she was a teenager," Doreen said indignantly, over their laughter, "and every mother wants to launch her daughter into orbit at some point during adolescence." She reflected. "She was very stubborn."

"She still is," Nick said. "How else could she put up with the Arabian Knight?"

"The Arabian Knight?" the XO said, who had just joined them.

"The part-timer," Cal said without thinking. "The playboy sheik from Qatar who gets a ride-along on this shuttle courtesy of the satellite NASA is launching for his family business, otherwise known as Al Jazeera. The mission commander has landed Kenai with the job of babysitting him."

There was a startled silence, and he looked up from his mug to find them all staring at him. His words, he realized too late, had just ousted their relationship. "Or so I read in the newspaper," he said weakly.