Sol 62, Pt. I
“You’re proposing what, now?”
“Let me run the news segment,” Darcy repeated. “Produce it, anyway. I can make sure no blatant falsehoods get into the data, and with me working on the project, there’ll be one degree of separation from NASA.”
Sanders was mellowing to the idea. “And it won't interfere with your work with the Avengers?”
Darcy shook her head. “I've got assistants there if it does. Besides. The team doesn’t mind if this is my first priority right now.” Meaning Tony and Steve practically shoved me into this meeting the moment I suggested it, Darcy thought.
“And Annie ok’d it?”
Darcy nodded. “She suggested someone be the direct liaison from the news to NASA. I volunteered.”
“Well, if you're sure,” Sanders said, still a bit dubious.
“I'll be splitting my time between here and New York,” Darcy said, taking Sanders’ reluctant acceptance and running with it. “If there's something you want said, let me know. If there's something false, likewise, but I'll be running all the science past the people here and at JPL, so I don't expect any problems there. Annie’a setting me up with office space, and any people I want to have interviewed will go through her.”
“Seems like you've got it all figured out,” Sanders said drily.
“I got out of the habit of presenting unresearched plans to higher-ups pretty quickly,” Darcy replied. Sometime around when I stopped working for you and started helping Jane write her research grants.
Sanders chuckled. “Well, you're authorised. What are you calling this thing, anyway. Does it have a name?”
“It does,” Darcy said, smiling. “Courtesy of Sargent Barnes. We’re calling it ‘Watney Watch’.”
……………..
“Welcome to Watney Watch,” the reporter said, smiling a mostly plastic smile at the camera. “I'm Cathy Warner, and on today’s show, we’ll be discussing exactly what Mark Watney’s life is like on Mars.” Dalton’s face deepened into a wider, faker smile. “Well, we’ll mostly be speculating, given that, as we all know, the only contact we currently have with Mark Watney is via satellite images.”
The reporter looked miffed at having to add the clunky wording in, but Darcy had insisted on the disclaimer. The topic had been a good idea, but there was no way she was purposefully putting out hypotheses disguised as fact. “After the break, we’ll be talking with scientists from JPL, astronauts from the Ares I and II missions, and others to try and figure out how Mark Watney is spending his days. But for now, this is CNN.”
“And we’re clear,” the director said, and Cathy relaxed. She looked over at Darcy, who nodded at her. It was strange, to be the boss, or at least, one of the bosses, of something this big. Hell, Darcy even had one of those folding canvas chairs with her name on it…
Sometimes I think aliens were less bizarre than this.
“How long are you planning on staying in Atlanta?” the director asked, coming over with his ever-present mini cup of coffee. Darcy always saw him with it, but never saw him drink. It was as if the thing was welded to his arm, and he just forgot about it. He needs a minder too. But for once, that’s not in my job description.
“Until the end of the week,” Darcy said, gathering her thoughts away from the ways she’d get the director to stop carrying a half-empty espresso cup around everywhere. “I want to make sure everything runs smoothly. Then I’ll be in Houston for a week. Then New York. I’ll be reachable, though, and we’ve got those monthly visits planned.”
Darcy winced, thinking of all the flying she’d be doing.
I guess it’s one way to rack up the frequent flyer miles. And there’s no way I’d actually take Tony and Pepper up on their offer to use the jet. Well, one of the jets.
“Thoughts so far?” the director asked, and Darcy quirked an eyebrow. She hadn’t pegged this guy as someone who wanted constructive criticism. He shrugged. “Hey, you’re the boss. Or at least, you’re the involved boss.”
“Guess so.” Darcy gave a shrug of her own. “Looks good so far. Honestly,” she looked at Rebecca. “I don’t care about the lighting, or the effects, or any of that. My job is to make sure the content is interesting, timely, and, more than anything else, true. If it’s fact, we call it fact, if it’s speculation, we say it’s speculation. At least three times.” That had been one of her rules. Because apparently the journalists here needed them. Anything that was purely hypothetical, or anything that wasn’t verifiable fact, was underlined as such once before it was said, once during, if the theory was long, and once afterwards. Hopefully that should stop the worst of the conspiracy theorists.
Not that anything stops the conspiracy theorists.
“Well, if there’s anything that seems off, let me know,” the director said.
Darcy’s phone buzzed, and she pulled it out of her jacket pocket, glancing at the display. “I’m sorry, I need to take this,” she told the director, stepping away from the cameras. The director nodded and went back to behind the main camera, where a few black-clad people were fiddling with settings and wires.
“Yeah, Tony?” she asked, accepting the call. “What’s up?”
“You’re still in Atlanta?”
“At the studio - they’re filming tomorrow’s episode. Why?” Something in Tony’s voice was off.
“Good. Good.” She heard a crash behind Tony.
“Tony, what’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing much,” Tony said, then there was a rush of static, and someone else grabbed the phone.
And since when does Tony use a phone, anyway? He usually just calls me through JARVIS.
Darcy was half-jogging towards the exit now, phone pressed firmly to her ear, as if that would help her hear anything more.
“Darcy?” Jane sounded stressed.
“Jane? Tell me what’s going on right now.”
“AIM managed to get a spy into SI, and they somehow shut down JARVIS. Tony says it’s temporary, but everyone’s on high alert, and we thought you should know.”
“Well, crap,” Darcy said, blowing through the doors and into the Atlanta humidity. “Does Tony have an idea of how long it’ll take before J’s back?”
“He has to do a full system-restore,” Jane said. “And then some major rewriting of the virus software - I gotta go - hold on-“
“Holding,” Darcy said, supremely frustrated as she waited for the next person to take the phone.
I should be there, she thought. Not futzing around with a stupid TV program. My friends are there and I can’t help them. Damn it.
“Darcy?”
“Steve?” Darcy frowned at the super soldier’s taking the phone.
“Are you secure?”
“What? I’m outside CNN,” she said, looking around. “Oh shit.”
“Tell me what you see.”
“I’m assuming Sam’s with you and all of Tony’s suits are accounted for?” Darcy asked, jogging towards her rental. I’m just glad I got the expensive insurance on this thing.
“Yep. What do you see?”
“Three AIM suits incoming,” Darcy said. “I’m getting in my car now - putting you on speaker.” She juggled phone and car keys, managing to get her door open and the phone settled without dropping anything.
“Darcy,” Steve started.
“There’s a building worth of civilians, Steve,” Darcy interrupted. “I’m not about to let them get caught in the crossfire. And I was outside anyway.”
She heard Steve’s long-suffering sigh and grinned as she floored the car out of the parking lot. “Just… get yourself as far from them as you can. Lose them in the city or something, ok? And stay on the line with me. I’ll get someone hacking their systems.”
“You got it, Cap.” Darcy swerved to avoid an oncoming car. “Keep me posted.” She accelerated some more, swerved left, and managed to squeak under the gate as it opened for a grey Dodge.
Guess this is what I get for missing home too much.