Free Parker's Folly by Doug L Hoffman Page A

team, able to handle nearly anything that the ship's flight simulator could throw at them. The Captain was certain they would acquit themselves with flying colors when it came time to actually pilot the ship.
    Also currently on the Bridge was Jose “Jo Jo” Medina, an electronics technician who doubled as a flight engineer, monitoring the ship's systems and condition when underway. His board was on the port side on the same level as the Captain but set back farther aft. There was a similar station on the starboard side for a navigation officer that was currently unmanned. Abaft that position was the Captain's sea cabin—Jack had tried calling it his space cabin but decided it sounded silly.
    Jack loved to sit in the command chair, looking out through the curving transparent panels that formed Folly's bow. No vessel he had ever commanded had a view to match this one—he could not wait to get her into space. He marveled again at his good luck and the strange, improbable chain of events that had brought him to this position. If he had not met TK Parker years ago, when Jack was only a boy, he would not be here now, poised on the edge of a voyage into space.
    Voices could be heard approaching from aft on the port side. Must be the news crew coming for their interview, he sighed. Hopefully, Lieutenant Curtis had covered most of the basic questions and he could simply smile for the camera, thank them for coming and send them on their way. On a Naval vessel, the XO, or executive officer, would handle most of the PR stuff, with the Captain remaining suitably aloof. Being a civilian vessel, Gretchen was the First Officer, not the XO, but she performed essentially the same duties. Anticipating their arrival, the Captain rotated his chair 120 degrees and rose to greet his guests.
    Lieutenant Curtis appeared next to the engineering station, stepped forward and asked “Permission to enter the bridge, Captain?” Even though workers had been coming and going from the bridge all morning without asking permission, ingrained Naval traditions die hard.
    “Permission granted, Lieutenant,” the Captain replied. “I understand we have guests aboard.”
    “Yes, Sir.” Lt. Curtis moved onto the bridge, turned and motioned the reporter and her cameraman forward. “Captain, this is Ms. Susan Write and Mr. James Taylor from KWTEX News. Mr. Parker invited them on board for a tour and to get some footage of the ship for their evening news broadcast.” Turning to the news people, “This is Captain Sutton, master of this vessel.”
    Susan strode forward and stuck out her hand. “Susan Write, very nice to meet you Captain. This is some ship you have here.” The Captain shook the proffered hand and then the hand of the camera man, murmuring “Ms. Write, Mr. Taylor. Welcome aboard.”
    “I guess the first question our viewers would have,” said Susan, dispensing with the formalities, “is ‘ do you really expect his huge ship to actually fly? ’ I believe Lieutenant Curtis said it weighs over 7,000 tons!”
    A rather well put together young woman, the Captain thought, pushy though. Her cameraman looks squared away, I'd wager he was in the service. A commanding officer had to be able to size up people quickly. The pretty blond was testing him, trying to rattle his cage. The faintest of smiles crossed his face, he looked back at Susan and calmly answered her question.
    “Yes Ms. Write. We do expect the ship to fly. After all, a spaceship that doesn't fly would hardly be very useful.”
    There was a brief, awkward silence as Susan thought to herself, OK, I'm not going to catch this guy off base or fluster him with awkward questions. Sometimes you can get an interview subject to go off message and expose hidden truths by surprising them—it had been worth a shot. She changed tack.
    “When do you think you will be ready to launch? And would you be willing to take a news crew along?” She favored the Captain with a high-wattage