Page 80 of Air Force One
“No television cameras?”
“We talked about this, Miranda.”
Miranda covered her face with her hands. They had. How did she keep forgetting? She’d even written it in her notebook so that she wouldn’t. Since she never forgot anything, that must mean her subconscious was blocking it, which wasn’t saving her at the moment. They stood backstage of the Pentagon’s PLC2 auditorium but she could feel them lurking out there, just waiting to pounce on her like…nasty…evil…leopards! Except you could trust a leopard to do leopard things, like chase and eat other animals. People like these couldn’t be trusted.
“After this, no more television cameras, okay?”
Andi pulled her hands down, held them until Miranda opened her eyes, and nodded.
“Ever. Promise?”
“I’ll do my best.”
If Andi’s best wasn’t good enough, then no one could do better. She could only hope that her skills sufficed. “Come with me?”
“Anywhere.”
For the second time in as many weeks, out in the world, television screens everywhere were flashing with a bright red Breaking News banner. She could only hope it didn’t break her. An analogy! They weren’t as tricky as metaphors, but she was encouraged at finding one.
Maybe, with Andi beside her, she could do this. Maybe.
She tried calming breaths. It didn’t help. She tried picturing baby bunnies safe and snug in their bunny den—and imagined a stoat with a camera strapped to its head invading the safety of their underground lair. When she?—
“The longer you wait to start, the longer until you finish.”
“That’s true!” Once again, Andi had the right of it. She looked down at Meg, “Are you ready?” She wagged her tail and grinned. Miranda could always rely on Meg too. She turned on her heel and hurried to the podium with her dog close beside her.
Andi followed her out of the wings onto the stage, wearing the same uniform she’d worn at their wedding to stand beside Roy and await Miranda’s arrival. As this was sort of the wake for Roy, it seemed appropriate. She stopped two steps back and two to the side, dropping into a parade rest stance.
As long as she was nearby, Miranda didn’t care if she stood on her head. That image almost made her smile.
Almost, until she looked at the room.
She faced the two hundred-and-fifty-seat auditorium, counting quickly though she already knew how many should be here—eighty-three seated military personnel. Curiously, it was the exact number who had died aboard Air Force One. Also, just another one-third of a person and it would be exactly one-third full. Was thirty-three-point-two percent capacity more rational that thirty-three-point-three repeating forever? She’d never liked numbers repeating forever; they were so untidy. So this was better than the implied yet deceptively false elegance of one-third capacity.
Miranda put up the first slide.
“My name is Miranda Chase, I’m the NTSB Investigator-in-charge for the investigation of the crash for SAM 29000, flying as Air Force One at the time of the incident. We ask that you keep your questions until the end as the first part of this conference is being nationally televised. You will be informed when the cameras are turned off.”
Just in case anybody had a question, she purposely didn’t look up to check for raised hands.
“On December 18th of last year, President Roy Cole decided to travel on a final goodwill tour as President. On January 3rd of this year, his aircraft departed for the hastily arranged tour. Hastily, but including all standard security protocols.” She clicked to a map showing the final flight route. “His aircraft’s engines all failed two hundred kilometers from land. Unable to make landfall, Air Force One crashed into the ocean fifteen kilometers offshore of Delaware, killing both the plane and all hands aboard. Everyone knows this much.”
There were no sounds from the audience. With the lights focused on her, she wouldn’t be able to see a raised hand anyway, even if she could bring herself to look up from the podium. That functioned as a satisfactory safeguard.
“The engines failed in reverse sequential order at precise thirty-second intervals: Four, Three, Two, One. There was no reason for them to have done so that could be attributed to any normal factor such as: fuel contamination, ice formation in fuel filters, manufacturing faults, bird strikes, or…” Miranda looked at the long list she’d made of known causes of engine failures. She hadn’t thought to alphabetize them or order them by frequency of occurrence. She closed her eyes and changed her planned speech without opening them to look at her notes, “…or any other known direct cause.”
Then she opened her eyes and peered at the page. Nothing essential had been skipped. It shortened the time she had to stand here by approximately nineteen seconds. That was good.
“The precision of the thirty-second intervals was indicative of a non-systemic cause. I’ve been asked to keep this simple. That request itself was not complex as the ultimate cause itself was simple as well.”
There were several chuckles from the audience, though she was unsure as to why.
She glanced back at Andi, who tipped her chin upward.
Miranda tried it…a couple times. “Oh, you mean like keep going?”
Andi nodded to more laughter.
