Ben Bova: Moonrise

Paul felt suddenly nervous. What Joanna was going to do would not only cause a rift in the board, it would shatter her son, who expected to be elected unanimously. And marriage? Paul wondered. If I don’t get elected will she still want to marry me? Do I really want to marry her?

“This great corporation was founded, as you all know, in the dark years of the Second World War by Elliot Masterson,” Arnold was droning in his sonorous, soporific voice. “His son, the first Gregory Masterson took over at Elliot’s retirement…”

In all his years as an astronaut and then a corporate executive, the idea of marriage had never entered Paul’s mind. Women were plentiful, and there was no time to get hung up over one. Paul was driven by the urge to succeed. Not merely to be the best, but to get the others to acknowledge that he was the best. To get to the Moon. To make Moonbase viable. To make a success where everyone else said it was impossible.

I never really thought about marriage, Paul was saying to himself. Maybe it’s time to settle down. Enough tail chasing. I haven’t really wanted to, anyway, since I met Joanna. Maybe that means I really love her. But does she love me or is this just going to be a business deal? Marriage for Moonbase. Some deal’… and now that Gregory Masterson II is no longer among us,” Arnold went on, “I believe it is in accord with the finest traditions of this great corporation that we ask his son, Gregory Masterson III, to accept the weighty responsibilities of president and chief operating officer of Masterson Aerospace Corporation.”

“Second the nomination.”

Paul swivelled his head. Melissa had seconded Greg’s nomination with the swiftness of an automaton. That was a surprise.

Grinning coyly, Arnold asked, “Any other nominations?”

“I nominate,” said Joanna, “Paul Stavenger.”

A shock wave flashed along the table. Greg’s face went white. He looked as if his mother had just slapped him. Arnold’s mouth dropped open.

“Second that,” said the man at Paul’s left, the corporation’s comptroller.

Arnold blinked several times, looking more like a perplexed frog than ever. Finally he said, in a low angry voice, “Any other nominations?”

None.

“Discussion?”

Joanna said, “I don’t want to give the board the impression that I have no confidence in my son. I simply feel that Paul has earned the right to be CEO. He pushed the Clippership program to its current highly successful status. Without the Clipperships this corporation would be in receivership.”

“That’s something of an overstatement!” Arnold sputtered.

Joanna made a smile for him. “Perhaps. But Paul’s shown he can be an effective CEO. My son is young enough to wait a few years. With a little patience, he’ll make a fine CEO one day.”

Greg said nothing. He glowered at his mother in silent hatred.

Paul knew what was irking Arnold. Old frog-face thought that he could control Greg. With Greg as CEO, Arnold would effectively be running the corporation his way. He had no desire to see a strong independent CEO elected.

His face florid, Arnold said to Joanna, “But this corporation has always had a Masterson at its head. I thought that we all wanted to keep control in the family’s hands.”

Joanna’s smile turned slightly wicked. “Oh, it will be in the family’s hands. Paul and I are going to be married.”

Greg bolted up to his feet so hard he knocked his heavy padded chair over backwards. “Married!” he shouted. “To— to him. ”

Before his mother could reply, Greg pushed past his overturned chair and stamped out of the meeting room, slamming the heavy door as he left.

Christ, Paul thought, she hadn’t told him anything about this. He’s just as shocked as the rest of them.

“I’m afraid,” Joanna said calmly, “that Greg allows his emotions to overwhelm him, sometimes.”

Paul stared at her. She’s like an iceberg, he thought. Implacable, unmovable. And cold as ice.

The other board members were muttering to one another. Arnold rapped his knuckles on the table to restore order. Paul saw beads of perspiration on the chairman’s brow and upper lip. His hairpiece was slightly askew.

“I think, in light of this unexpected turn of events,” he said hesitantly, “that we should postpone the election of our new CEO until we have all had a chance to think and consider carefully—”

“I disagree,” interrupted the comptroller. He was older than Paul, not as old as Arnold; a trim little man, dapper, always impeccably dressed. With just a trace of an Irish accent he said, “We all know each other here, and we all know both young Greg and Paul Stavenger. I don’t see why we should wait at all.”

Arnold started to say, “But I—”

“Let’s vote,” said another board member.

“Call for the vote,” said still another.

Visibly defeated, Arnold said, “Very well, if that is the sense of the board. Shall we use the secret ballot?”

“I’m willing to let everyone see my hand raised,” the comptroller said.

“Then let us take a fifteen-minute recess before we vote,” said Arnold. “I want to make sure that Greg is with us when hands are raised.”

The tension eased a little as everyone got to their feet. The comptroller patted Paul’s shoulder and said loudly enough for all to hear, “I’m sure you’re going to make a grand CEO, my boy.”

Paul mumbled his thanks and made his way around the table toward Joanna. He passed Melissa, who kept her face frozen.

Joanna was walking slowly toward the big windows at the front of the meeting room. As if by instinct, the other board members drifted away from her, allowing Paul to be alone with her.

“You didn’t tell Greg first?” he whispered urgently to her.

She looked up at him, her eyes tired, almost tearful. “I tried to,” she said. “He didn’t show up until just a few moments before the meeting began.”

“But… before the meeting. Christ, you two live in the same house!”

“Not any more. Greg took an apartment here in New York. Just after his father’s death. Didn’t you know?”

Paul shook his head. “Still… breaking it to him like that, in front of the rest of the board…”

Joanna turned to the windows. “The Clippership from Hong Kong should be arriving in a few moments.”

“Never mind that. You should’ve told him! Warned him, at least.”

“I couldn’t,” she said, still staring out beyond the towers of Lower Manhattan, the harbor, the gray expanse of Brooklyn and Queens. “He hasn’t spoken to me in more than a month. Not since he found out about us.”

“He knows?”

Joanna breathed out a shuddering sigh. “He knows.”

“Then — his father must’ve known.” Paul was jolted by the thought.

“He probably did.”

“God almighty.”

Joanna said nothing.

“Do you think that’s why he killed himself?” Paul asked her.

Joanna did not answer for a long moment. Then, “I can’t picture Gregory blowing his brains out over his wife’s infidelity. Not when he’d already turned infidelity into a lifetime career.”

She sounded bitter. But Paul knew that a man like Gregory had a totally different set of values when it came to his wife’s faithfulness. Still, he never would have thought that Gregory would kill himself, for any reason.

“Look!” Joanna pointed. “There it is!”

A pinpoint high in the sky, a flare of rocket flame against the gray-blue background. Paul watched the tiny dot grow into a discernible shape as the Clippership seemed to halt in midair, slide sideways slightly, then slowly descend on a pillar of flaming rocket exhaust toward the ground until it was lost to their view.