2. Preflight Alignments
TWO
PREFLIGHT ALIGNMENTS
Luke
“I’ve never been stood up before.”
As expected, Robonaut, the gold-faced feat of engineering NASA built to help on the International Space Station, doesn’t answer.
I check my watch again, confirming that it’s five past six. Five minutes past the time I told Emily Durham, the cutest woman I’ve ever met, to meet me in Building 9.
The smile on my face widens as I remember the mutinous expression on Em’s face when I told her, despite her protests, that I would be taking her on her tour.
So damn cute.
As a big man, I know it’s odd that I’m drawn to cute, but I gave up on being normal a long time ago.
Normal isn’t a six-foot three astronaut.
An astronaut who didn’t serve in the military.
Instead, I spent my time in labs, studying organisms on their molecular levels.
Apparently, I’m fascinated with small things. Probably because I’ve never been one.
Normal also isn’t a woman with a collection of sparkly pins who kisses a man, then avoids him like the plague, and who scowls at smiles. Or at least, my smiles.
After another five minutes, I glance at my robotic counterpart again. “Got any ideas?” I slap Robonaut on the back, nodding. “Yeah, you’re right. She needs a little push.”
I unlock my phone and text her. If you’re not here in five minutes I’m coming to your office to serenade you Top Gun style.
I watch three dots appear and disappear a few times before she finally replies.
You wouldn’t dare.
I respond with a smiley face emoji.
Fine. I’ll be there in ten.
Of course she will. This woman bows to no one. She’s been feisty like that since the day I met her two years ago, during a public relations prep for a mission. One frown in my direction and I was hooked.
I spent the first year after that media junket trying to get a glimpse of her between training and spaceflights. Last year, when I became chief of astronauts, it meant less time in orbit but more time to study the quirky lady with the sparkly office supplies.
Every pencil, pen, tape dispenser and file folder in Em’s office is gilded, glittered, or bedazzled. It’s the oddest thing.
I love it.
Maybe I should go get her. Make her sweat a bit.
But before I can take one step toward the door, my phone beeps again.
If you come up and sing I’ll personally make you a soprano.
So cute.
Emily
“I win for most original date.”
Ten minutes ago I walked into Building 9 prepared for battle. A battle I promptly lost when Luke was waiting for me, dressed in his NASA blue jumpsuit and sitting in the MRV.
A legit, built by NASA engineers, modular robotic vehicle. A.k.a. Mars rover.
“This is not a date,” I inform the frustrating giant.
“This is a tour .” I smooth down my silk pleated skirt as it billows around my legs in the breeze.
The seats, meant for full-size adults wearing an additional three hundred plus pounds of suit and equipment, are wide and roomy.
Luke, even suitless, takes up most of the space.
Luke’s knee brushes against mine when we turn onto the dirt and rock terrain NASA uses as a rover practice course.
I draw my legs together more tightly. My multi-colored sequined flats dangle above the floorboard.
He eyeballs me, his smile now a little crooked. “You’re dressed too pretty for this to be just a tour.”
“Thank you,” I mutter, fingering the Swarovski crystal rocket ship I have pinned to my blouse. “But this still isn’t a date.”
Though after normal work hours, there are still a few people at the rover site. One lifts his phone to take a picture.
I scrunch down in my seat. I don’t know what exactly I’m trying to accomplish, as the rover has no roof or doors. Not even a windshield. It’s like a super expensive, slightly larger go-kart. I’m small, but I’m not small enough that I can hide in this thing.
Luke salutes for the camera. I wait to roll my eyes until they’re done taking pictures.
He chuckles and a warmth that has nothing to do with the waning Texas sun spreads over me. Not good. “Listen, Luke, why don’t we just?—"
The vehicle spins, doing a complete three-sixty while remaining in the same spot.
“Holy crap!” My stomach churns and my hands flail around, looking for purchase. My right finds the oh-shit handle at the side of my seat, my left finds Luke’s thigh.
I jerk my hand away. “Uh, sorry.” The vehicle stops spinning, moving forward once again.
He laughs, looking completely unaffected. “Don’t worry. You’re safe. The MRV is designed for maneuvering in congested areas.”
Trying to shake the tingles out of my hand, I glare at him. “Like traffic jams on Mars?”
Luke ignores my sarcasm and continues driving. “Not traffic jams, but the terrain on other planets can be unpredictable. The MRV has to be prepared for craters, hills, large rock formations that can’t be circumvented. That sort of stuff.”
Taking a deep breath, I lean to the side, looking down at the ground. I can make out each small pebble and rock as we pass over. “Well it’s definitely not built for speed.”
He shrugs. “True. Top speed is 40 mph, so no, it’s not particularly speedy. But it has other cool features.”
Finally, my stomach settles. “Like what?”
Immediately, I regret my question.
One moment we’re on a smoothed-out path of dirt, the next we’re moving sideways. Looking forward, but moving right, off the road and into the rocks.
“What the hell?” This time I lean forward, bracing myself against the dash. Nausea rolls through me.
“The MRV has e-corners.” His voice smooth and unbothered. A quick jerk of the joystick moves us forward but looking left.
Goosebumps break out over my arms.
“E-corners?” It’s like I got on a ride expecting a Ferris wheel only to be plunged into rollercoaster turns.
“Yeah, the e-corners in the wheels can be controlled independently and rotated 180 degrees in each direction. So all four wheels can point and move in the same direction without turning the vehicle.” He moves the joystick with one hand and the steering wheel with the other, moving us in the direction we’re facing once again.
“Oh, thank god,” I mumble.
“Fun, right?” He glances at me before focusing on the controls. “Or they can be pointed perpendicular to the center of the vehicle, allowing rotation around the center axis.” The wheels turn ninety degrees and once again we’re gliding sideways while facing front.
Sweat breaks out on my upper lip.
“Makes parallel parking a breeze,” he jokes.
“Uh huh.”
He finally looks at me with something other than a smile. “You okay?”
Like I’m going to admit to the Jolly Green Giant that I get motion sickness. “Just fine, thank you.” I give him the side eye. “But if you want to stop this ridiculous tour, that’s fine too.”
“You kidding?” He’s as cheerful as a kid with an ice cream cone. “We’re just getting started.” He points to the small mountain of uneven, treacherous looking rock formations.
Annnnnd I’m out.
Literally.
I don’t even remember telling my body to do it, but suddenly I’m airborne, lunging for solid ground, ass over teacups.
“Em!” Luke’s voice booms across the open space.
Thud . “Fuck.” Ow .
The sky, swirls of blue, pink and orange as the sun sets, blinks in and out of darkness as I try and suck back the breath knocked out of me. I gag but manage to ride out the wave of nausea.
Stiff blades of grass poke my ass, alerting me that my skirt is hiked up over my waist.
Awesome.
Thud. Luke’s knees hit the dirt next to me. “What the hell, Em?”
“Ugh.” I shift, taking a deep breath through my nose, trying to roll over.
“Wait.” Luke rests his hand on my chest, holding me down. “Don’t move. You could’ve done something to your neck.”
“I’m fine.” I brush his hand off me. “Stop copping a feel.”
“I… I wasn’t.”
I’d laugh at the normally unflappable Luke Bisbee suddenly flustered, but my mouth suddenly floods with saliva.
Turning over on my stomach, I find the strength to lift myself on all fours.
“Hey! You guys okay?” The cameramen run over.
Oh crap. I try and swallow.
“Em, seriously, let me help.” Luke shifts, sitting in front of me, his hands on my shoulders, trying to brace my weight.
But before he can lift me, my stomach gives up the game.
And by that I mean I vomit. At NASA, on all fours with my panty-clad ass in the air and in front of camera-wielding witnesses.
All over the Jolly Green Giant.
For once, he doesn’t smile.