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Ming-Mei stepped down off the bus and looked around for Brooke. Diesel fumes made her stomach turn over. She’d never get used to the smell of New York traffic.
She was exhausted, too. Now that Dylan was at least temporarily back in the loop, Saturday had been one long succession of phone calls with the Solaria team, with Pershing and Longhurst, even a strange conversation with someone supposedly high up in Missile Defense who never identified himself but talked like a general.
And then there had been a half-dozen calls during the night from Draconis, and especially from the team on the ground at Cape Canaveral. Longhurst said it had taken a presidential order to scramble every support worker available to toil through the night and finish the preparations for launch. It was hard to im
