Sandi listened to the waves lap the shore as she walked down the beach, the morning sun to her back. Last night had been a little cooler, the harbinger of the coming fall, but it was still warm enough now that she wore only a light tee-shirt and shorts. She felt the coolness of the sand between her toes, and a light breeze playing in her hair. It had been a long quiet summer with no one to bother her, no media to shout obscene headlines at her, no telephones breaking the pure silences, and only Terrapin to keep her company. Terrapin was her constant companion, her confidante, the best four-footed therapist and friend in all the world. The feelings were mutual.

Terrapin had raced ahead, romping along the beach, barking and leaping at several gulls basking in the sun along the water’s edge. With little effort they lifted into the air, and gently landed thirty yards down the beach out of harm’s way. Then, in a flurry of wet fur and happy senseless yapping, Terrapin raced back to Sandi and screeched to a halt at her feet. He nudged her leg as she approached a dip in the sand, and she instinctively slowed her pace in synch with Terrapin’s lead.

Then, above the sound of the waves, she heard her name – it was harsh, a shock, and brought her suddenly back from another world. It was her Dad shouting over the sound of the surf that breakfast was ready. “Come on, Terp,” said Sandi, and she trotted off in the direction of the beach house as Terp padded along behind.

The smell of bacon and a spicy omelet and toast greeted Sandi as she slid the glass door open and entered from the deck. Terrapin followed her in, and she left the door ajar to let the breeze blow through. Sandi kissed her father on the cheek – “Hi, Dad” – and sat across the table from him. “Thanks for not pushing,” she added.

“Hey, my time’s your time,” he smiled. “So how was the sunrise?” he asked.

Sandi looked in his direction and smiled, “I didn’t notice, Dad….I guess my mind was somewhere else.”

“Couldn’t sleep last night?” he asked.

“No, not much,” she replied. “I took a walk down the beach a little after midnight. The moon was out, and it was quiet – did you know the sound of the waves is like white noise from beyond our galaxy?”

Dad smiled, his steel-grey eyes sparkling. Sandi pushed the eggs around on her plate, obviously preoccupied and troubled. Dad silently ate his eggs, and munched on a piece of burnt toast with strawberry jam dripping off the edges.

Sandi cleared her throat, and Dad paused, not saying anything. “Dad,” whispered Sandi.

“Yes,” replied Dad, his voice firm and steady, also just a whisper. “I have a problem, and I don’t know what to do about it,” she offered.

“Umhmm,” said Dad.

“There’s a situation at the lab – one involving several people that are important to my project, but who are acting like total jerks.” Her voice rose a little, but was still controlled, still little more than a whisper.

Dad nodded his head, his lips set, his eyes locked with hers. Sandi’s eyes always took his breath away, they were so much like her mother’s – hazel, bordering on green, and deep as a glacier-fed lake. And there was always a fire burning somewhere deep down. When she smiled, it was like a crisp morning – and for Dad it awakened an ache deep inside – he loved Sandi’s mother very much, and still hadn’t gotten over her sudden death to cancer five years ago.

It was she who encouraged Sandi to pursue astral-physics in spite of her blindness, and it was she who was Sandi’s greatest strength from undergrad through to graduation from Harvard, Summa cum Laude.

“Dad, I’ve been Director of Project Orbit Saturn from it’s inception. Now, Talm Nelton, coordinator of projects at the National Union of Transient-Technology Investigators, is blocking my project because of some insane paranoia that the Japanese are stealing our data. Dad, the Japanese are actually collaborating with our project, and are underwriting joint research into transient-technological phenomenon. Nelton knows about the collaboration, but refuses to acknowledge their efforts.”

Dad listened, clucked his tongue, and put his hand on Sandi’s forearm.

“He and Jeremy Burson – he’s our controller – sent me a memo yesterday, saying that Project Orbit Saturn is temporarily on hold, at least until the Senate finance committee has a chance to review our last two years’ data.” Sandi sighed, and muttered under her breath – “Shit…!”

Dad smiled, and squeezed her forearm. Then he reached over, lifted her chin until her eyes were level with his – “Sandi, you’re a fighter. This is merely one roadblock, and you must know your project has the highest levels of support. Your colleagues across the country know you’re on the right track with the project – and they support you, even the men. Just hang in there.”

Dad paused a moment. “You know that jerks like Nelton and Burson will always do their best to subvert your work for what they consider the better good, but whatever their best efforts, they can’t hold a candle to you and your stubborn will….I know you, honey.”

“I appreciate that, Dad, but you haven’t heard the latest – Jules Guildor was appointed Director of the National Astral-Space Technology Institute…! – He has the ear of the President, and Jules is as paranoid as Talm and Jeremy!”

Dad chuckled and took Sandi by the hand, and said, “Let’s take a walk down the beach, honey.” Sandi slipped through the sliding glass door, followed by her father. They stepped off the deck onto the pathway through the ice-plant. Sandi walked ahead.

“Dad, I said I didn’t know what to do.” She paused in thought as they strolled along the beach. “If I take a stand on principle, I may make points in the short run, and, I know I’ll feel one hellova lot better – but these are small men with small minds and enormous egos. They aren’t above taking it out on my project out of sheer spite. The project could be lost.”

The crunching of the sand under their feet punctuated the lapping of the waves. “And, if I do nothing, they could hold the project hostage at their whims, and the project would abort before having a chance. I lose either way – the project loses either way…!”

Dad could hear a fire building in Sandi’s voice. She still spoke just above a whisper, and Dad had to concentrate to hear her over the lapping of the waves at their feet, but he was glad – the inner fires were being stoked, and that old glint in Sandi’s eyes had returned.

“As I recall, honey, those are the very odds you’ve cherished in all your challenges your whole life!” said Dad with a chuckle.

Sandi stopped, and turning towards her father, punched him playfully on the shoulder. “Stop laughing at me, Dad,” she screamed, and she, too, chuckled.

Terrapin, who had been padding silently alongside Sandi, jumped up on her when she shouted, and barked sharply. He ran down the beach barking, and turning, ran back and jumped up with his wet paws all over her tee shirt. He barked again, and Sandi yelled, and grabbing him, tumbled down onto the sandy beach in a tangle of arms and legs. Dad sat down on the sand, and watched and smiled. Sandi lay back on the sand staring up into the clear sky, and Terrapin rested his head on her chest.

“Dad, how can I have the support at the highest levels if the President is in these jerks’ pockets?” asked Sandi. Dad didn’t answer at first. Sandi turned onto her side, and propping her hand under her ear, asked, “Dad…?”

“I suppose I was thinking of the President’s wife, honey,” he said, his eyes fixed on the morning sun highlighting her dark hair. “She’s come out in your support, and she’s been very vocal about the importance of this project continuing. She’s gathered others – the Secretary of State, for one. Then, there’s Judge O’Connor, and the Director of the Department of Justice. It’s only a matter of time, and the President will be yours, too,” said Dad; “He hasn’t a chance in the long run.”

Sandi looked at her father, a puzzled look on her face. “Where did you get all this?” she asked.

Dad laughed again. “Listen – your mother was privy to a number of those inner circles that most people don’t even know exist. Hell, I never knew until they contacted me one day. And, because of the esteem they held for your mother, they’ve kept in touch with me over the years. They are the stuff of black budgets, secret agencies and conspiracy theories, and who knows what else. Anyway, let’s just say I have it on good authority that you are being watched – they’re very interested in your work with transient-technology, and they won’t let it fail. It’s bigger than you and these little men with littler minds.”

The next day, Sandi received a second memorandum from Nelton and Burson. The message indicated that the Senate finance subcommittee was subpoenaing her to answer questions related to the project. The tone of the memo was not a good one – it gave her a sense of darkness and foreboding. Sandi shuddered upon hearing the message. She wasn’t worried about answering questions about the project – that she could handle in her sleep. It was the darker motives and hidden agenda of the committee members she was uneasy about. She handed the message to her Dad, who listened to it and smiled broadly.

“You’re going to be fine, honey,” he smiled. “They’re not going to know what to do with you, trust me.”

Sandi wasn’t so sure.

On Monday, October 5^th, Dr. Sandra Jeanne Pendleton, Ph.D., Director of Project Orbit Saturn, appeared before the Senate finance subcommittee to answer questions put forth by esteemed committee members. After two hours of intense and difficult probing questioning, which Dr. Pendleton managed with exceptional clarity, directness, and precision, the subcommittee took a recess.

The chair, Laurel Kauffman, D-Colorado, came over to Dr. Pendleton, and sat down on the corner of her table. “You’re doing extremely well, Dr. Pendleton,” she said with not a little praise.

“Thank you, Senator,” replied Dr. Pendleton smiling. “You know why you’re here, don’t you? – Why we’ve summoned you?” asked Senator Kauffman, her eyes alight.

Dr. Pendleton hesitated, then replied, “I don’t think I understand.”

“Come, come, Dr. Pendleton,” chided Senator Kauffman with mock irritation. “You are obviously where you are because you’re not only intelligent and have a command of language to describe what you are about, but you also have contacts in places people shouldn’t have – you are well connected, Dr. Pendleton.”

Senator Kauffman paused to let her comment sink in – “There are people who want your work to continue, Dr. Pendleton – people who wield power to see that it does – unbelievable power. I have followed your career for some time, and have supported you and your project from the beginning, but I have deep concerns about how you are garnering support for your work. I have fears for our country, fears for who you are lying down with…”

Senator Kauffman’s voice trailed off. She leaned down, touched Dr. Pendleton’s arm, and whispered, “Be careful, my dear – be very careful…” She slid off the table, turned and walked to the dais and took her seat.

After a twenty-minute rescess, the subcommittee members returned to their seats, and the hearing resumed. Senator Burgess Anderson, R-New York, asked for the floor, and addressing Chairperson Kauffman, moved that the subcommittee recommend to the Senate finance committee approval of the budget for Project Orbit Saturn for the full term of the project. The silence was palpable.

Dr. Pendleton’s eyes widened, though she couldn’t see the faces of the subcommittee members.

“Second,” said Senator Kari Stevens, R-Alaska.

“Move the question,” said Senator William Hobbs, R-Arizona.

Senator Kauffman looked to the Sergeant-at-Arms, who began the roll-call vote:

“Senator Anderson?” “Aye.”

“Senator Benton?” “Aye.”

“Senator Garry?” “Aye.”

“Senator Hobbs?” “Aye.”

“Senator Stevens?” “Aye.”

“Senator Waverly?” “Aye.”

“Chairperson Kauffman?” “Aye.”

Senator Kauffman looked up and down the bench, and then at Dr. Pendleton. Smiling, she said, “Dr. Pendleton, as you’ve heard, you have pleased the subcommittee, and your wish is our command – at least for the moment.”

Dr. Pendleton stood, and thanked each subcommittee member in turn. “I appreciate your trust, Senator Kauffman – you and the subcommittee members. I shall remember your caveat.”

Sandi’s Dad met her at the airport. She had called him with the subcommittee’s decision, and he chuckled and said, “I told you you had nothing to worry about!”

“Right, dad – now, let’s talk about those inner circles that most people don’t even know exist…”