Dark Biology

by Bonnie Doran

  ****

  Hildi gripped her chair in the cramped quarters of the space capsule.

  “The clock is running.” Larry verified the rocket’s status from Launch Control in the same matter-of-fact voice he’d used in the simulator. Nothing seemed to rattle him. Hildi’s teeth, however, threatened to rattle out of her gums as Reconciliation launched. Pressure increased as gravity protested its loss of another space-bound vehicle. The engines screamed, answered by the whoops of the astronauts.

  Hildi laughed. Any roller coaster ride paled in comparison. She shifted her head to the left toward Jasper, a true feat as two g’s and a bulky pressure suit plastered her to the couch. She immediately regretted the motion as her stomach complained about the difference between her sight and her inner ear. She returned her gaze to the front row.

  Frank turned and grinned. She tried to return the smile but inwardly tensed. He’d seemed overly friendly before they suited up, but at four in the morning, everyone sounded too chipper. At least she’d only have to endure his attention for a few days, until Frank piloted Reconciliation back to Earth with a couple of station-weary astronauts.

  The shake in the capsule eased and the weight on her chest decreased, only to be replaced by the jolt of first-stage separation that slammed her against her harness. Then the second stage ignited, sinking her weary bones deeper into the couch.

  She’d been in preparation for hours, submitting herself to assistants who eased her into her suit and checked her vital signs. Even with the amount of time she’d spent in the blue suit at the CDC, the final lock-in of her helmet gave her shivers. For the next six months, she would breathe only canned air.

  The final stage propelled them toward their intended orbit 250 nautical miles above Earth. They would be weightless and officially in space after a mere nine minutes, with a day and a half before docking. Then her ground-breaking work would begin.

  She prayed again for the mission, the other three astronauts, the crew on ISS, and herself as the lone scientist passenger—a payload specialist in astronaut lingo. In this case, the payload was a tiny vial of a mild influenza virus.

  “Quite a ride, eh?” Jasper’s deep voice echoed in her helmet. He should have been a radio announcer with that rumbling bass of his.

  Hildi grinned. “Not sure my pearly whites appreciated it, but yeah, what a ride.” Hildi gasped as she glimpsed the blues and greens of Earth rotating beneath them. “And what a view.”

  Her heart fluttered at CAPCOM Dan’s voice “Reconciliation, Houston. You’re GO at eleven and a half. Main engine cutoff is twelve plus thirty-four.”

  Twelve minutes and thirty-four seconds into the flight, silence wrapped them as the computer killed the main engine. Hildi longed to float free and taste the microgravity of space. Flights in the Vomit Comet had never been enough with a mere thirty seconds of weightlessness at a time.

  “OK, people, time to get to work.” Commander Larry took charge and reminded everyone of their duties.

  “Let’s get to it.” Frank sounded like a drill sergeant. Hildi inwardly harrumphed. She’d decided not to let Frank bug her, but she feared her attitude needed adjusting. She especially didn’t want to respond with some caustic remark in the middle of a mission. They’d part soon enough. She needed to keep the peace.

  Hildi suppressed a sigh as she worked with the others to check systems. She felt like a passenger on Reconciliation in spite of her duties, although she had trained as hard as the others and could take over any position. Once they got to the space station, she could concentrate on the work she loved best. She and Maria, a virologist already on board, would run experiments as they observed the effect of microgravity on influenza. Perhaps a vaccine would be easier to develop there.

  “Dr. Hildebrandt? Is the payload secure?” CAPCOM’s voice from Houston interrupted her musings. Dan’s rich baritone goose bumped her emotions in spite of their last argument. Kissing and making up would have to wait. She smiled at the prospect.

  Hildi glanced at the locker imbedded in the wall, holding a sandwich-sized metal case that cradled the virus sample. She spoke into her headset. “Yes, Mission Control, payload is secure.” NASA had insisted on the protocol codes for the sample as if her work were a top-secret military project. The media had already reported it, so why did NASA bother? Most people were blissfully ignorant that influenza, which seemed a mere annual nuisance, could turn into a deadly pandemic. The truth lay in history books, especially with accounts of the World War I outbreak. Scientists at the CDC were unsung heroes as they risked their lives so the public would remain safe and oblivious.

  This would be the first study of influenza on the station. Perhaps her work would help future astronauts—and lunar colonies—deal with the diseases that were determined to follow them into space. Her mind wandered. The Hildebrandt vaccine for HIV. Dr. Hildebrandt, Nobel Laureate. She would enjoy surpassing her brother in their field, although the launch into space certainly qualified. Heh, heh.

  The capsule lurched, jerking her back to reality. That couldn’t be good.

  “Houston, we’re encountering a little trouble with the attitude jets.” Unflappable Larry sounded tense. Hildi’s insides plummeted.

  “Roger, Reconciliation. We confirm.”

  Frank manipulated the controls to correct the sudden yaw and pitch of Reconciliation. It quickly settled into calm.

  Larry turned to Frank. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

  Frank lifted his hands. “It wasn’t me.”

  Larry tapped a finger on the instrument panel as if that would solve the mystery.

  A moment passed as Dan silenced the radio switch and apparently consulted with various people monitoring their instruments. Hildi’s stomach continued its free-fall. Dan’s CAPCOM voice finally returned. “Larry, we don’t know why the jets hiccupped. You sure it wasn’t Frank pulling a practical joke?”

  Frank shook his head.

  “Houston, this is Reconciliation. Frank says he didn’t touch the controls.”

  Hildi chewed her lip. Would Houston order them back to Earth after only a few orbits? Missions had been aborted for less. Doggone it; she hadn’t come all this way just to admire the view.

  “Reconciliation, this is Houston. Our boards show no malfunction of the systems. We’ll just chalk it up to a pilot twitch. You are still GO.”

  “Roger.”

  Frank muttered under his breath.

  Hard to believe they were a mere thirteen minutes into the flight. Hildi’s nausea stabilized, but her pulse still danced the cha-cha. This particular scenario hadn’t been a part of their training. How did the simulator team miss inflicting this situation on them? What other glitches would they discover in this shake-down flight of the Rigel series? Her brain shied away from her worried thoughts and concentrated on the discussion among the astronauts.

  Jasper snorted. “Well, that was fun, though I think I prefer bucking broncos. At least I have the illusion of control.” He glanced at Frank, suspicion reflected in his eyes.

  “Oh, let’s not get wrapped around the axle.” Frank answered Jasper’s concern with maddening nonchalance. “I think that’s the one problem we’re gonna have. Every mission has one.”

  CAPCOM interrupted their conversation. “Reconciliation, Houston. Looking good.”

  “Roger.” Larry’s grin showed through his voice.

  Frank continued to test the pilot switches then leaned back and huffed out a breath. Hildi sneaked a glance at him every so often. He caught her eyes, his lips curling into a smile.

  What was going on in his mind? Was he trying to re-establish their relationship, maybe even re-propose? Yeah, like that would happen. Hildi could ignore his attempt at reconciliation without getting wrapped around the axle, to use his own terminology. She’d forgiven him, and that was the end of it.

  Hildi released a long breath. Frank’s status as a space jock kept the ladies in awe and attracted them like ants to a picnic. Had Mr. Charm-the-Ladies-and-Ma
ke-Them-Cry really changed as he claimed, or had he been searching Florida’s beaches for a new conquest?

  Thankfully, Dan was from a different strain entirely.

  ****

  After shutdown, Frank removed his helmet and unbuckled his restraints. His stomach performed a rare rollover, though he expected it for the first day or two in space. He shouldn’t have eaten the astronauts’ traditional steak-and-eggs breakfast. He oriented himself in the weightless environment, happy to regain his space legs.

  Hildi hit her head on the roof as soon as she floated free.

  “Easy, girl.” Frank offered his hand and drew her down. “Move slowly, or you’ll get sick for sure.”

  “Sorry. Should have remembered.”

  “Happens to all the rookies.” He grinned as she hung her head, then he helped remove her helmet.

  Frank shrugged out of his pressure suit and set it on an intentional trajectory. It floated across the interior and struck Jasper in the face.

  The bulky suit muffled Jasper’s protests. “Who turned out the lights?” He finally pulled it off and threw it back.

  Frank laughed. He knew he’d pay for it later. He and Jasper had a friendly rivalry in the practical-joke department.

  Hildi removed her own suit and threw it like a basketball toward Jasper’s open arms. He faked an attempt to dribble. Definitely not possible in weightlessness.

  “Enough.” Larry switched on his commander voice. “Stow ’em.”

  Hildi’s cheeks turned a pretty pink.

  As Larry and Jasper removed their outer gear, Frank stretched out the kinks in his stiff muscles. The blue NASA jumpsuit he wore underneath was infinitely more comfortable. They rolled their pressure suits into compact bundles and stowed them in the designated lockers. Hildi’s movements were already becoming as effortless as a space chimp’s. Even in the uninspiring crew attire, she looked beautiful.

  He’d always been a sucker for the beautiful women who wanted an encounter with a real astronaut. His conscience pricked him. Those roving days were over. If only he could convince Hildi of that.

  Frank turned away. His stomach felt heavy, and it wasn’t breakfast. His hope of reconciliation with Hildi was probably a lost cause, and he suspected his old childhood buddy was reaping the benefits. Maybe he and Hildi could have a little heart-to-heart before they docked…

  Privacy on a spacecraft? That would be the day.

  ****

  Dan listened to the chatter on Reconciliation, finally relaxing in his chair after a few nail-biting moments. He loosened his tie and stretched out the tension of the last few minutes. The mission was still GO, the apparent malfunction a no-show on Mission Control’s monitors. It could have been disastrous. His job as CAPCOM had one big drawback. No control. No control over the spacecraft, no control over the crew’s actions, and no control over The Jerk ferrying his girl to the station.

  He jettisoned his feelings like a used rocket stage. Dan grinned. Hildi would be stuck without a test tube for a day and a half until the capsule docked, one part of the mission she would hate. She even insisted on driving every time they were together, though her tiny Smart Car gave him a stiff neck as it forced him into an uncomfortable imitation of the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

  Dan closed his eyes. After the last argument with Hildi and their forced separation due to the mission, he wasn’t going to take her for granted again. Shorty was right. Once she returned to Earth, he’d make it up to her. Big time.

  16

  “I” Plus Three Days

  Carol stomped her foot. “But you promised!”

  Mike shrugged. “I’m sorry, hon, but things just piled up at the office. I really have to go in this weekend.”

  “We were going to Aspen. Since when would you rather work than ski?” And be with me?

  “Why don’t we do it the weekend after next? I’ll make reservations for that European-style hotel.”

  Carol wouldn’t let him off the hook that easily. She’d been looking forward to this weekend ever since the seminar. She should have known his change of attitude wouldn’t last. Slamming the crusty casserole dish into the sink suds, she charged upstairs, cries ripping out of her throat. Maybe her tears would make him feel guilty. She slammed the bedroom door.

  She flung herself on the bed, but her little tantrum ran out after a few minutes. So much for a good, long cry. She washed her face and took a few deep breaths. Mike must be working in the garage, judging from the hammering.

  She waffled between apologizing and making her husband suffer, not that he seemed to be suffering. Heaving a sigh, she wondered who she could call to dump on. Her sister was working…

  A business card lay on her nightstand. Carol hesitated then punched in the number before she could change her mind. She walked to the closet for her comfort slippers as the phone rang at the other end of the line.

  “Betty here.”

  “Hi, Betty. It’s Carol Hardesty. Remember me from the conference?”

  “Carol. Of course I remember. How are you, dear?” Betty paused. “You sound upset.”

  Carol’s faucet started dripping again. She brushed angrily at her cheek. “Mike and I had a fight.”

  “Just a moment.”

  Carol heard a vacuum cleaner, the noise muffled as someone closed a door.

  “There. I have a housekeeping service once a week, and that vacuum of theirs could wake a deaf corpse.”

  A giggle escaped Carol. “Aren’t most corpses deaf?”

  “Well, come to think of it, they are.” Betty chuckled. “Now, do you want to talk about it?”

  Carol took another deep breath. “It started when Mike said he had to work this weekend. He promised to take me to Aspen.” She paced to dissipate her temptation to throw something.

  “I’m so sorry, dear. I’m sure you were looking forward to it.”

  “He never keeps his promises.”

  “Now, I know I’m doing a little meddling here—”

  “Meddle away. That’s why I called. I don’t know what to do. We go to a marriage seminar, he seems to change, and then he’s right back to his old habits in two days.”

  “Dear, one of the first things Worth talks about is to stop using ‘always’ and ‘never’ during an argument.”

  Carol sighed. “I know. Mike just makes so mad. He never—”

  “He never?”

  “I get your point.” Carol forced her teeth to unclench. Much easier to talk that way. “But I’m tired of being ignored. Why won’t he pay attention to me? Maybe I should get some of those cosmetics of yours, maybe lose some weight.”

  “Dear, I’d be happy to come over and do a makeover for you. Just let me know when. But I think your main problem right now is you.”

  “Huh?” Carol didn’t like where this conversation was going. She wanted sympathy, not a lecture.

  “Dear, you can’t change your husband, but you can change you. Start by apologizing. Anger festers the longer you ignore it. Marriage is not all daisies and buttercups, you know. You need to work at it.”

  “I know you’re right, but I don’t want to do it. It’s his fault.”

  “And you did nothing to—uh—escalate the disagreement?”

  Carol huffed out a breath. “I guess I did. But he did, too.”

  “Never mind that for now. If you were wrong, you need to tell him that.”

  “It’s so hard.”

  “Of course it is.” Betty’s chuckle chimed. “It’s called pride, and it’s a stubborn thing indeed.”

  “What if…What if he doesn’t accept my apology?” Carol sniffed as she sat on the edge of the bed and reached for a tissue.

  “Do you really think he would do that?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “No buts. Just apologize.”

  “OK.”

  “I’ll be praying for you, dear. And call me anytime.”

  “Thanks.”

  Carol hung up the phone. She checked her image in the bathroom mirror.
Grimacing, she used get-the-red-out eye drops—which did more stinging than un-reddening—brushed her hair, and added lipstick. Maybe the trip postponement was just as well. She felt achy, like she was coming down with something. She walked downstairs, feeling as if she were walking to an appointment with a firing squad. She opened the door into the garage.

  Mike’s truck was gone.

  17

  “I” Plus Three Days

  “Looking good, Reconciliation.” Dan breathed a sigh of relief. They’d achieved orbit. Rendezvous with the space station would occur tomorrow.

  “Good job, people.” Steve Walters stood and stretched. The Mission Control crew turned toward him. He grinned.

  Vince from ISS control walked in, concern on his face. “Steve, the station was unable to maneuver away from micrometeoroids.”

  Dan gulped. ISS had always avoided collision before.

  “We’ll inform Reconciliation.” Steve gripped his wooden pencil and snapped it in two. He reached for another one from the cup at his elbow. “What’s the damage?”

  Dan rolled his eyes. Steve was one of the savviest techies he knew, but the man was in the Stone Age when it came to his preference in writing implements.

  “Don’t know yet. Joe did a fair amount of cussing, but the crew’s safely tucked away inside the Soyuz.”

  The ISS crew was supposed to take refuge in the capsule at the first sign of risk. Dan’s shoulders relaxed.

  Vince nodded and left, still frowning. Ten minutes later he returned with a deeper frown. “The station crew determined the skin of the Soyuz was punctured. They’ve abandoned it and closed the hatch.”

  Dan swallowed. Another emergency averted, but his guts insisted it wouldn’t be the last.

  “Thanks, Vince.” Steve dismissed him with a wave of his hand. He smirked as he turned to Dan. “Wait ’til you hear what those space chimps on Reconciliation are going to wake up to.”

  Dan chuckled. “The mind boggles. I’m sure you picked something appropriate.”