6. Get Aheads
SIX
GET AHEADS
Ian
“Now that Bartolomeo has successfully launched, we’ll start the fix and install EVAs to get it up and running.
” EVA Director Dom Richie clicks through the presentation highlighting the group’s next major projects.
Among them is the one I pitched and planned to make all wires internal along the International Space Station’s trusses so we don’t have any more space junk impact failures.
And then the larger, more high-profile spacewalk needed on the European side.
An image of Bartolomeo lights up the projector screen. It looks like a normal space station module but with large white boxes strapped around it. Like NASA’s version of a UPS facility.
“This is what it will look like when it’s finished. But it’s going to take a lot of international cooperation and spacewalk hours to get it this way,” Dom adds.
Built and tested in Germany’s Aerospace Center, the Bartolomeo platform is a major step toward commercial ISS use in Europe.
It’ll expand the International Space Station, positioned under the already-in-use Columbus Laboratory.
Bartolomeo was Christopher Columbus’ younger brother’s name.
Jackie informed me of that, along with the etymology of all other ISS module names, last time we were all drinking at Big Texas.
Some people get sloppy when they’re drunk; Jackie nerds out.
That was the night I freaked out at Trish’s trailer.
Shaking off the shameful memory, I study the mock-up of the fully installed Bartolomeo lab. It’s a pretty cool design, and one that will be helpful as American and European space agencies start working with commercial, rather than government funded projects.
Dom clicks to a picture of the Canadarm. “After the Canadians use their robotic arm to move the platform into position, it will take two astronauts to install the electrical from the outside. This will have to be a series of spacewalks, as it’s too large to maneuver around in one go.”
The ironic thing is that in space, space is at a premium. This new lab has twelve different payload slots that companies can use to fund their own experiments, making it great for projects that require more of an open space environment. It even has a research balcony.
“Kincaid, you’ll head up the Bartolomeo team leaving for Germany next month.”
I blink, sure I heard that wrong. “Me?” You apply for lead positions, and I definitely did not apply for the Bartolomeo lead.
“Yeah.” Dom, busy shutting down his computer, misses the panic-stricken look on my face.
“You guys are dismissed.” Dom snaps his computer closed, glancing up at me. “Except you, Ian. Let’s talk in my office.”
Or maybe he didn’t.
Sighing, I get up, collect my own things, and follow him into his coveted office. Most employees work in the cubicle farms laid out on each level. Some, like Jackie, are lucky enough to have windows. A cubicle I quickly commandeered when she was selected for the new astronaut class.
But Dom’s office has no window. It’s four by five feet of drywall and a solid wood door. A door that when he closes it behind me makes my heart race.
Taking a deep breath, I sit. “So what did you want to talk to me about?” The sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can get out of here.
“I know you hate traveling.”
I can’t help but raise my eyebrows at his observation. It’s true I never volunteer to travel internationally like a lot of my co-workers, but I didn’t think it was noticeable. I’m always swamped with the numerous domestic aspects of NASA space flight.
“But I want you on this Bart thing.”
I smile at the nickname. Pretty sure the Europeans wouldn’t like their billion-dollar enterprise trimmed down to a Simpson character.
“But not only are you the best man for it, I also want it on your resume.”
“My resume?” I glance between him and the door he stands next to, trying to follow his train of thought while I fight the urge to rip open the door.
Dom shrugs. “Well, it isn’t like you necessarily need it.
What with your background and already formidable work experience.
” He moves around to sit behind his desk, his oversized leather chair looking terribly out of place among the cheap space race era desk and file cabinets.
“But you’re young, and there are plenty with more time here than you. ”
“Okay…” I have no idea where he is going with this.
Leaning forward, he points a finger to himself. “I’m out at the end of this year.” He points to me. “And I want you in.”
“You’re out?”
“I’m heading to the Darkside.”
I smirk. “Commercial side, huh?”
He shrugs. “What can I say, commercial pays.”
“Yes, it does.” Salary is the biggest downside of working at NASA, a government agency, besides fighting through the red tape of bureaucracy to get projects started.
Commercial space flight companies have no such thing as salary caps.
I’m lucky that I have enough money of my own that I don’t have to worry about it.
Even in this tight office space, or after hours of cubicle work, with my hands shaking and feeling slightly out of breath, I still can smile knowing that I work at the space agency, NASA.
“When I leave, I’m putting your name down as my replacement.
And though you’ve already pitched and developed much-needed spacewalks in the past, and your co-workers and all the astronauts always want you on console and have nothing but great things to say, you haven’t led an international team before.
” He quirks an eyebrow, pointing at me again.
“You do this, the job is as good as yours.”
This is unexpected. Dom isn’t that old, so I never thought of his position as something to strive for.
And with this job comes a lot more travel, something, as he so aptly figured out, I don’t do.
I mean, I’ve made the trip to Space X headquarters a few times, and to the closer NASA campus at Marshall, but I took vacation time and drove to California and Alabama those times, claiming I preferred road trips.
Which I don’t.
But just as with the Bartolomeo project, EVA director means unavoidable flights. Canada, Europe, Russia, Japan.
I get up and open the office door before sitting back down. At Dom’s questioning glance I shrug apologetically. “It’s hot.” Before he can respond, I lean forward, now better able to focus with the door open. “Tell me more about the lead job and your position.”
And with every word out of Dom’s mouth, I realize I want it. I want it bad.
I glance at the open door.
But can I do it?
I inhale the fresh air blasting through my open windows as I drive home, calming my anticipation.
After the talk with Dom in his office, I cut out of work early. One, his office got to me, and my hands were unsteady. And two, if anything was going to make me feel better, it would be the sight of a southern lady playing hide and seek in my house.
If there were gold medals in avoidance, Trish would win them all. She’d be the Michael Phelps of avoidance.
It’s been two days since the iron fist of suburbia, a.k.a. the homeowner’s association, made their declaration against Trish’s trailer. Two days of Trish hiding up in the guest room, pretending to “work.”
Or maybe she is working. I just don’t know, as her door is always closed.
Waving to the security guard at the gate, I wind through my neighborhood, a collection of ten-thousand-square-foot homes on double lots in prime Clear Lake territory.
Veronica’s red brick, white-pillared colonial style house is visible behind her oversized Italian-style fountain in the circular driveway as I drive down my street.
I have no doubt the HOA instigator was Veronica.
When I met her, the day I moved in, it was clear she was cut from the same cloth as my father— manipulative.
I’ve always avoided her, especially one-on-one conversations.
Veronica makes me feel like I’m circling a viper.
Because of who my family is, people end up wanting something from me.
Sex, money, favors, power. I got enough of that false friendship growing up.
I don’t need it here too, in my sanctuary.
I slow before the bump at my driveway. Unlike Veronica’s, mine is long and straight, aimed toward the two-car, one-boat garage.
I am well aware that my house is ridiculous in size, especially for a single guy. But I like the feeling of open space. I need it. Especially after days like today.
One of the main perks of being an EVA officer is that we’re rarely at our desks. We’re in Building 9, the warehouse that holds the life-size mock-up of the International Space Station, or at the Neutral Buoyancy Lab running practice spacewalks, or holding meetings in conference rooms.
But some days are cubicle paperwork days, and my ass gets stuck in my chair for hours at a time. Or days where I’m in someone’s windowless office trying not to pass out.
Reaching up behind my visor, I click the button to open the car garage door. Once parked, I glance at the silver Airstream to my right. It looks even smaller now that the boat garage door is closed. I fight a shudder.
Why does it have to be so small ?
Disgusted with myself, I shake off my jitters and enter my house, the sound of silence welcoming me.
Even after Trish moved in, it’s been quiet. Which is disappointing. I was looking forward to a little noise. There’s nothing but the clink of my keys on the counter when I step into the kitchen.
Trish must still be holed up in the guest room with the door closed. Again.