Vessel

by Lisa A. Nichols

  “Yeah.” It was a lot of sensory input at once, most of it so unfamiliar it might as well have been the first time. Catherine took a breath, half expecting the strange feelings of wrongness and disgust from earlier to reemerge. Thank God they didn’t. She tried to smile, watching the heat in David’s eyes and letting it fill her. “I just needed a minute.”

  “We’ve got all night.”

  Catherine had another uncertain moment when David laid her down on the bed, a moment of unreality that overtook her, as if she were just an observer and not a participant. David’s hands moving over her skin brought her back, helping her focus in the here and now.

  This was where she wanted to be. This was where she belonged. Home. The word repeated in her mind and heart as they moved together, David’s breathing warm and humid in her ear as he murmured endearments. The word swelled in her with each moment that passed until they were both crying out with the strength of it.

  After, she lay in his arms and listened to his heartbeat as he pressed kisses against her hair. “I love you,” he said.

  “I love you, too.” She looked up at him and smiled. There was a flicker of guilt that tried to insinuate itself into her thoughts but she pushed it away.

  As exhausted as she was, she lay awake afterward for a long time, acutely aware of every movement David made. He was right; it had been a long time since she’d been intimate with anyone. It just hadn’t been as long as he thought.

  Sagittarius I Mission

  DAY 859

  SOMEWHERE IN ERB PRIME

  “No, I’m just saying that initially NASA was determined to only send committed couples on these long missions together.” Tom leaned against the tiny galley counter, unsteady on his feet while Catherine tried to wrestle open another bottle of wine. It was New Year’s Eve on Earth, and the crew was celebrating, here in the middle of nowhere.

  There wasn’t a huge store of alcohol on board, but there was enough for a few decent parties during the mission, at the commander’s discretion, of course.

  Plus, as Izzy said, monitoring how alcohol affected their behavior, both in the wormhole and planetside, could prove scientifically interesting. And since the whole point of this mission was to maybe find somewhere for humanity to settle, they’d have to spend some time living as normally as possible to gather the information.

  “Yeah, but committed couples never would have worked,” Catherine countered, scowling at the recalcitrant wine bottle. “They’d never find a couple who could both pass the training, for one thing.” And she should know. David had been as likely a candidate as anyone, but there he was, sitting at home while she was out here, over two years of travel away.

  “See, then the answer is clear,” Tom said, swaying around to point at her. “They gotta encourage matchmaking during the training, between the candidates who don’t wash out.” He grinned. “Come on, how much easier would this trip be if you had a partner with you?”

  Catherine snorted, uncorking the bottle. “For me? It wouldn’t. It would be easier for you, and for Izzy, and Richie . . . but for me and Ava and Claire? Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “Proven fact, in heterosexual relationships, a man’s happiness improves, a woman’s happiness stays the same or declines. I’d just have somebody else to look after.”

  “Cynical.”

  “Married,” she shot back.

  “Look, just because your marriage isn’t great doesn’t mean that all men are like that.”

  Catherine paused midway through filling her plastic wineglass. “Hang on, I didn’t say my marriage wasn’t great.”

  Maybe it wasn’t perfect, and admittedly, there was a sense of freedom in being away from David, as much as she loved him. Sometimes she wished he were here—and he might have been, if the washout rate among prospective astronauts weren’t so high. They’d met in the training program but after they got married, David washed out. At first, he insisted he was happy for her, happy that at least one of them was going into space. As time went on, though, she got glimpses of his resentment. She started censoring herself, trying to protect his feelings. It was nice, not having to be concerned about anyone’s emotional well-being but her own on a day-to-day basis.

  “Oh, come on.” Tom took the bottle away from her and finished filling their glasses. “You don’t agree to take off for six years with limited communication if you’re completely happy at home.”

  “There are lots of married astronauts—”

  “There are,” Tom agreed. “More married than single, I think . . . and look how many of them aren’t on this mission.”

  “So you’re saying that because Ava and I are out here, we were miserable at home?” Catherine folded her arms and leaned against the counter.

  “Cath . . . be real. David? Buttoned-down, wears a belt and suspenders David?” Something in Tom’s voice caught her attention, and she looked up just in time to find him standing too close. “You jumped at this mission because you were bored out of your mind back home.”

  “That’s not true.” Catherine didn’t meet his eyes, though. It wasn’t boredom. It wasn’t that simple. How could she explain that sometimes she felt trapped? They’d had Aimee within two years of getting married, wanting to give her a chance to grow up with both parents before one of them had to leave on a long mission. And then David washed out when Aimee was still a baby, and Catherine constantly felt pulled between pursuing her career and trying to make sure David didn’t feel bad about it.

  Tom slid his hand over her arm. “I’m not asking you to take care of me, Cath,” he said. “Let me take care of you. Let someone do that for a change.”

  Maybe it was the wine, but it was tempting. She liked Tom well enough. They’d been instant friends the moment they’d met in training. And she couldn’t deny that there’d always been a flirty little spark between them. She didn’t need anyone to take care of her, but having someone offer was . . . nice.

  When he slipped a hand behind her head and pulled her in for a kiss, she didn’t stop him. His mouth was sweet against hers, and after being away from home for over two years, touching someone like this felt so good. Catherine put her wineglass down and returned the kiss for a moment or two.

  No, no, no. This is a mistake. It was against regulations, and it was a complication that neither of them needed, and besides, she loved David. She pushed a hand against Tom’s chest, separating them.

  “Tom. We’re drunk, and I’m married. This is a bad idea.”

  “But—”

  “Trust me, tomorrow you’d regret the whole thing.”

  “I wouldn’t.” Tom kissed her again, more feverishly this time. “I swear I wouldn’t. I’ve wanted you for ages.” He caught her face between his hands. “I know there can’t be any emotion here. I get it. It’s fine. I just . . .”

  It was a mistake to still be standing there, but his eyes were so soft, and for all her cynicism, she missed having someone. Even the wrong someone. This time when he lowered his mouth to hers, her hand against his chest softened, and stopped pushing him away.

  “Come on.” He took her hand and led her from the galley. “We can’t make out in the kitchen like teenagers.”

  Their individual quarters were tiny, and the idea of sharing a bunk for any length of time was laughable, but by the time they’d spent several minutes kissing up against the closed hatch of Tom’s quarters, the bunk wasn’t looking so laughable after all.

  * * *

  She wasn’t laughing when she woke up in that bunk a little while later. She checked the chronometer set in the wall and saw that it was still the middle of the ship’s night cycle. She and Tom were crammed together in his narrow bunk, and his arms were still around her.

  What the hell did I just do?

  Guilt settled on Catherine like a weighted blanket, pinning her in place. It wasn’t just that she’d cheated on David—although God, wasn’t that enough?—but that it was the first time in her career she’d not just broken but shatt
ered a regulation. Maybe it wouldn’t jeopardize the mission, but it sure as hell would jeopardize her career, and probably Tom’s.

  She needed to get up, get back to her quarters, and try to pretend this never happened. Then hope to God that Tom did the same thing.

  As she sat up and reached for her clothes, Tom stirred behind her and reached for her. “Where’re you going?” he mumbled.

  “I can’t spend the night here; we’ll get busted.” Catherine started pulling her clothes on.

  “Good point.” Tom sounded more awake, and sat up behind her. He leaned in and started kissing her shoulder. “Too bad, though. Sure you don’t want to stay a little longer?”

  Catherine paused, halfway through pulling her socks on. She sighed and straightened, turning to look at him. “Tom. We can’t do this again.”

  “Sure we can. We’ll be careful. Besides, I don’t think anybody would care, really.” He tried to kiss her again and she leaned back.

  “I can’t do this again. I’m sorry. This was a bad idea.” She stood up and finished pulling her clothes on.

  “Cath, come on. Didn’t you have a good time?”

  “That doesn’t matter—”

  “It matters to me!”

  “Shh.” The last thing they needed was for Tom to wake someone up. “Tom, don’t make this a thing. We were drunk and we made a mistake, okay?”

  “ ‘Don’t make this a thing’? We’ve been dancing around this since training!” Tom stood as well, and in the small quarters they were in each other’s face.

  “No, you were the only one dancing, Tom.” Catherine ducked out through the hatch, a sense of dread and shame tightening her chest and sitting like a rock in her belly. The feeling only intensified as she crept back to her quarters.

  The six of them were stuck together for the next few years. Catherine hoped she hadn’t just signed them all up for a nightmare.

  5

  “BREATHE, WILL YOU?” David reached across the front seat to take her hand as they drove in together the first morning.

  Catherine released her two-handed death grip on her travel mug and took David’s hand. “I’m breathing, I’m breathing.” She glanced over with a smile. “Hey, I haven’t had to go to the office in over nine years, so cut me some slack for being nervous.”

  David brought her hand to his lips, keeping one eye on the traffic as he drove. “That’s my girl. Strap her to a rocket and she’s cool as a cucumber, tell her she’s got to face rush-hour traffic every day and she’s worried.”

  It wasn’t that, and David knew as much, but Catherine was grateful to him for making light of it. “Yeah, well. NASA produces better pilots than Houston does drivers.” They shared a grin and some of the tension drained from her. “It’ll be good to be back, part of things again.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “One more step back to normal life, right?”

  And, despite the nervousness, she was eager to get back. Llewellyn had offered to give her more time off, but with Aimee finishing up her senior year and David working, there didn’t seem to be any point in Catherine’s staying home. They’d taken Aimee out of school for a week or so, and there’d be ongoing family counseling to resolve any adjustment issues. Besides, with only a month and a half to go before the Sagittarius II launch, she knew Llewellyn could probably use every pair of hands he could get. She was looking forward to meeting the new crew and helping them however she could. It was the least she could do.

  “I saw John Duffy is the flight commander for Sag II,” she said. “I couldn’t believe it. Don’t tell me he’s grown up and gotten all responsible.”

  “Listen, I still can’t believe he made it through training,” David said with a snort, giving her the crooked grin that had first stolen her heart. “He was so busy playing pranks and chasing tail I didn’t think he was actually learning anything.”

  “Oh come on, he wasn’t that bad.”

  “You only think so because you were one of the tails he was chasing the hardest, ‘Catherine the Great,’ ” David teased.

  Too late, Catherine realized that despite David’s grin, she’d stumbled onto a sore spot. Duffy had been in their training cohort, and despite his antics and David’s quiet, intense dedication to learning everything he could, Duffy went on to finish the program and David hadn’t. The two men were nearly diametric opposites, and given Duffy’s tendency to flirt as easily as he breathed, the tension between them was unavoidable.

  “Ugh, I forgot he used to call me that.” She tried to find a way to recover. “I guess I’ll find out today if he’s changed or not. I’m meeting with him and the rest of the crew this afternoon for the simulation test.”

  “Yikes, that’s today?” David looked at her closely. “Are you ready for that? What time?”

  “May as well jump in with both feet,” Catherine said, trying to smile for him. “It’s early this afternoon, after that planning meeting.”

  “Which planning meeting?”

  “The one at eleven, with Aaron Llewellyn. It’s not on your calendar?”

  David’s smile was still firmly in place, but even after more than nine years apart, Catherine could see the strain beneath it. “Nope, that’s the weekly meeting for department heads and up. You’re in that one?”

  “Yeah . . . it’s probably a one-time thing, to talk about my mission.”

  When David let go of her hand to put both hands back on the steering wheel, she tried to tell herself it was because freeway traffic was getting heavier, and she wrapped her fingers around the stainless steel of her cup, staring straight ahead.

  “Maybe not,” David said, a little too casually. “You’re a superstar now, kiddo. I’m just a grunt in the trenches.”

  She was right back in the moment they’d learned that David had washed out of the program. He’d had that same casual, too-faint smile on his face then. If she asked him, he would say he was fine, and that he was excited for her. It was probably true. But it wasn’t the whole truth.

  “Yeah, well, you’re my grunt, and I love you.”

  “Love you, too, Cath. I’m proud of you.” Now when he looked over at her, the smile looked a little more real. “Always have been.”

  * * *

  JSC was one of those places that never changed, even while in a constant state of flux. The displays were different, the faces were different, but even if she’d been dropped in the middle of a hallway, Catherine would have known where she was. She found her office without difficulty, a small, blank space with a desk, a computer, and a decent-sized window. Tomorrow she’d bring in a few personal things.

  The planning meeting was something new, a glimpse behind the scenes she’d never had before. The only crewman there was John Duffy, and he gave Catherine a quick wave as they sat down.

  She knew, of course, that immensely detailed logistics went into every NASA mission, but listening to the others go over the minutiae of weight limits, fuel calculations, supply needs, etc., it seemed a miracle they’d ever gone into space to begin with.

  When the meeting ended, Duffy made his way over to her before she could leave the conference room. He came forward with an outstretched hand and, when she took it, he pulled her into a hug. “Here’s our hero,” he said with a grin.

  “Oh God, no,” Catherine said, grimacing. “Don’t start that.”

  “I damn near did a dance in my living room when I heard you’d come back,” he said, finally letting her go. “Bad enough to lose Ava and the others, but not Catherine the Great.” Duffy eyed her closely. “How is it? Being home?”

  “It’s . . . weird, but good.”

  “Come on. We’ve got time for a cup of coffee before we have to meet the rest of the crew.”

  Over coffee he filled her in on some of the agency gossip she’d missed out on: who was jockeying for a promotion, who was probably sleeping with whom, all the things the briefings left out.

  “We did learn a few things from Sagittarius I before the Event,” Duffy said. “Mike Ozawa
figured out pretty quick that we were receiving the data but you weren’t getting our return messages, so he got the engineers working on it. They think they’ve got it resolved. Guess we’ll find out in a couple of years.”

  “Road testing new equipment is always exciting.”

  “Tell me about it. That’s the problem with what we do, Cath. There’s only so much they can do to re-create actual conditions on the ground.”

  “You know, it’s nice talking to another astronaut again,” Catherine admitted. “Someone who gets it.”

  “Catherine, I don’t know if any of us can really get what you went through,” Duffy said, playing with the stirrer in his coffee.

  “You’ve been out there, though. You get that. Being alone.” Catherine had expected that the feeling of aloneness would stop once she was home, but it lingered like a bad smell. Even though she was home, sometimes it felt as though David and Aimee weren’t really seeing her when they looked at her. Maybe that was because she still didn’t quite know who she was now. Here at NASA, she’d been part of a unit, her crew, for so long. It felt weird to make a decision without running it by Ava, or to get through a day without Richie’s saying something to make her laugh. It was like missing limbs.

  “Yeah,” Duffy said quietly. “I do get that. I’m sorry.”

  Catherine smiled at him with a tight expression, fighting to keep her eyes dry. “Yeah. I am, too.” She changed the subject. “How is it being flight commander? How’s your crew?”

  Now it was Duffy’s turn to grimace. “Oh God they’re young. They’re so young. I hate them.” She laughed, then listened as he went on to give her some background on each of them. By the time they walked toward another, smaller conference room together, she felt as if they were already familiar to her.

  Her first thought on entering the conference room was Oh, they are young. Had she ever been that fresh-faced? Llewellyn wasn’t there, and she and Duffy alone didn’t do much to raise the average age of the room.