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Clay felt the coolness of pre-dawn air and smelled salt ocean tang, a vivid recollection of the Canaveral launch two weeks earlier. But this time it was only in his mind. He would have given a lot to be there again in person, watching steam rising from the base of the phallic arrow that stood proudly on the pad. A different pad: Cape Canaveral’s SLC-40 this time but, more importantly, it was Draconis’ own Hawk rocket, with the Solaria 1-B installation packaged safely into the swollen head. He never got tired of watching a rocket launch. Maybe that was why he was in control right then—a gift from Max and Ming-Mei. If so, he was grateful.
The wall-sized screen in Draconis’s largest boardroom had incredible resolution, and Pershing had brought in gargantuan speakers and sub-woofers to re
