by Ward, Steve
Michael reached out and put his hand on hers. “Nice outfit, black sweater and jeans? Didn’t want to dress for dinner?” The truth was, she looked fantastic, and he would love her in anything, or better yet, nothing. Her dark hair was down on her shoulders in a way he hadn’t seen before. At work she kept it up, all business.
Her eyes looked down at his hand with a nervous twitch.
“Hey, I am dressed. This is Longhorn’s, Twinky, not Anthony’s.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Do I need to remind you I’m in mourning? You know I’m not ready for any kind of relationship. . .other than flying buddies.” She pulled her hand back and put it in her lap.
As usual, he felt rejected. “Yeah, but that doesn’t change my feelings for you. I liked Lazer too, Stick. He was a great guy, but he’s gone now and you have to. . .” He was afraid to go on. Piss her off, he thought, and look out.
“Can we talk about something else. . .uhh. . .how about cold water reactors? Do you know anything about cold water reactors?” she teased.
“Aren’t you anxious about 7-3-3, only three days away?” He was always concerned for her safety, especially since she had become a target for terrorists. She had come within an inch of her life on 7-3-2, and he knew 7-3-3 would be just as dangerous.
“Not really. It’s gonna be fun, and I can’t wait to see how my robot performs.”
“How does that thing work, exactly?” He already knew most of it, but he just wanted to see the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about DROID.
“You know how it works, Twinky,” she blushed. “The trick is using short wavelength lasers at close range for acquisition and tracking. It starts with pulsed laser radar, LIDAR. Within a range of one-thousand meters, it switches to continuous-wave, Doppler tracking. Inside of fifty meters, it’s all digital TV and optical processing,” she rambled, glowing with enthusiasm.
Damn, she’s sexy when she talks technical, he thought. He hoped to keep her going. “But how does the software know what to dock with, and at what angles?”
“Target images are preprogrammed, then the software uses the Morrison effect to stay on the centerline for approach.”
“Okay, I give up. . .Morrison effect?” He really didn’t know.
“If you approach a square target with a TV camera, and you get off to one side, off the perpendicular axis, the square appears as a trapezoid. The closer edge looks larger. You know, kinda like when you hold a fish out to the camera, it looks huge? Optical processors recognize that and fire tiny thrusters to move the DROID back to the centerline. It works best with a high contrast docking plate.” All of a sudden her expression changed. She pushed out her lips and waved her right hand in his direction. “Oh shit, Twinky, you don’t want to hear all this crap,” she laughed. “Let’s eat, I’m starving!”
“Mostly I just want to make out, Christina. Why won’t you let me kiss you?”
“Easy big boy, this is a business dinner. I wanted to talk about your mission. I heard they’re taking you off the crew.”
He didn’t expect that. Mission 7-3-4 was to be his ten minutes of fame. Almost too stunned to speak, he felt his blood pressure skyrocket and slammed his palm down on the table. He began to stammer, “Wha. . .Wha. . .Whaaat? Are you kidding me, after all that training? Why? How did you learn this?”
“I was outside the Director’s office when I heard him promise it to Rhani. Something’s fishy, Michael. I see that kid hanging around the front office a lot. When they saw me standing nearby they both quit talking. All very clandestine, hush-hush you know.”
“I don’t like that S.O.B. He’s the only one in the system without a handle. Wonder why that is. . .why they just call him Rhani?”
“What are they gonna call him, Rag-Head?” Christina whispered, as if she realized it was politically incorrect. PC was not her style; she often blurted out things ladies didn’t say. “The little twerp was put on my mission at the last second. Seems the Director doesn’t want to rely on my judgment. Supposed to ‘assist’ me on the first DROID test.” She stiffened. “As a matter of fact, Scott tried to get me off the mission altogether. He’s on a bent against females in flight suits.”
“That’s Bullshit! Why haven’t I been told?”
“Not sure exactly, but they seem to be shuffling missions.”
The waitress finally came over, and Michael ordered a bottle of Moet Chandon. Of course, they didn’t have it at Longhorn’s, but the waitress agreed to bring the most expensive bottle of champagne in stock.
Chewing gum, she said, “We got somethin’ back thar, but I don’t know what the hell it’s called. I do know it has one of them fancy corks; you know, the ones with the wire? I’ll go ask,” she drawled in a south-Texas accent. Michael was amused as she pivoted like a model and shook her bottom back and forth, all the way across the room.
I wonder why women do that? he mused.
“Wow, big spender. So you’re goin’ for the good stuff are you, and on your salary?” She batted her big, brown eyes and smiled.
His heart skipped. Her two front teeth were slightly separated, but it was her only facial flaw, and it didn’t matter to him. He was pissed about the news on 7-3-4 but felt like a million dollars. He refused to let the bad news shatter his private moment with Christina. Actually he was dirt-poor. The astronaut game was famous for futures but low on pay. “Hey, only the best for my girl,” he sat up straight and stuck out his chest.
“I’m not your friggin’ girl, Twinky. When are you going to get that in your thick, brainy skull?” she chuckled. “By the way, why don’t you let me buy? I called this meeting, and I can actually afford it.”
“No way, my treat,” he insisted.
“All right then, but let’s order some food. My stomach is gonna eat itself.”
With the exception of hovering security, Michael thought it was a perfect evening. Christina was obviously having a good time and seemed to be warming up to him. All I want to do is kiss her, he thought as she ran on about shuttle ops. She was about to be launched back into space, and he wouldn’t see her for ten days. Michael put his elbows on the table with his hands on either side of his face, sighing like an infatuated teenager.
Chapter Four
With her debut as Shuttle Pilot only four hours away, Christina was pumped, but the preparations sucked. It took many hours to get ready for a launch, and astronauts felt more like pincushions. That such a celebrated job could come with such immense, personal humiliation always bewildered her. Technicians probed her half-naked body like a rat in the lab. The first mission she hardly noticed, but for some reason, now she was getting quite irritated. She already had several probes attached to her front when she finally spoke out.
“You’d think we were freakin’ monkeys for God’s sake! That fleet enema’s a pain in the ass, then the meds and now all these silly probes. Don’t you people have enough data already? Why the hell do we have to be wired up so?”
The attending technician didn’t say a word. He opened his palms and gave her a goofy look like, Hey, look lady, just doin’ my job here.
“Oh, I know it’s not your fault, but come on, astronauts are human too.” She picked up a catheter and waved it at him. “How’d you like to have this thing rammed up your dick?”
“Miss Matthews, if you would be so kind to roll over on your stomach, I’ll get your back done. Then Mrs. Thomas will insert the catheter, and you’ll be on your way.”
She felt like meat on the butcher block. “Well, I have to say, I never envisioned this part of the job. They ought to make a video for CBN. That would cut way down on the thousands of applications for astronaut.” She turned her head back and screamed at him. “Ouch! Why don’t you just shove a two-by-four up my ass while you’re at it?”
He looked at her in silent disdain with a raised fist like, If you don’t shut the fuck up, I’ll find a four-by-four.
She decided to cool it and tried to relax. She closed her eyes and let the launch seque
nce cycle through her brain. There was so much more responsibility as Shuttle Commander, and she had a lot to remember. She was floating through the midcourse correction procedures when she felt a sharp sting.
“Holy shit! What the hell are you doing back there, trying to cut off my Mars tattoo?” She could feel the sting of separating skin.
“Sorry ma’am. It’s a new probe, wireless and subcutaneous. But don’t worry none; once it sets in, you won’t even know it’s there.”
“Crimeny! That hurts like hell!”
“Yep, all part of the drill. Now if you’ll only let me finish up, you can get out of here.”
“Okay Igor, torture me if you must. Nothing can ruin my big day.” Nothin’, that is, except me, if I screw it up. She was confident and ready, but it was a huge responsibility, and only one little mistake could be catastrophic. Lord help me!
* * *
“Three, two, one, we have liftoff!” CBN showed the New Hope in its full launch explosion. It was bigger than previous shuttles and even more beautiful. The pictures were outstanding for the few people interested enough to watch.
“Yes, they’re off on time,” reported Stephen Nichols as cameras tracked the close-up in vivid detail. He was an anchor for CBN News. “That New Hope is a beautiful bird and even more sleek. Look at her go.” He went to a mockup showing all the more interesting aspects of the new space craft. Just as he finished his long description, Udahl came back on the air reporting a successful launch.
“We have engine shutdown and nominal flight path. America’s last space shuttle, the New Hope, is safe in orbit.”
Nichols gave a quick summary of the DROID mission, then moved on to world news. “The Iranians have once again rejected peace terms offered by the three major powers: India, China and the United States. They continue to claim no nuclear weapons, but intelligence disagrees. Back in August an underground test was detected with the seismic energy of a 10 megaton device. Unidentified sources report they may have as many as a dozen nuclear weapons mounted on missiles. This afternoon the Iranian government completed a successful test of Zag 275 and dropped the ground to ground missile payload just off the beaches of the West Bank. Israel protested the move and threatened a cataclysmic counterattack should any Iranian nukes be launched in their direction. Only the deep, underground operations of secret Iranian defense centers seem to counter a pre-emptive strike. It’s a whole new arms-race. Many Israelis and some people in the United States are building bomb shelters, just like they did back in the ‘60s.”
In the backdrop of the afternoon news, a replay of the STS 733 launch lit up the late evening sky. Night launches could be seen for hundreds of miles. Of course, most people had lost interest in orbital missions, and NASA was always struggling for money. President Gleason wanted to put a manned station on the Moon, but he was getting little support from Congress because of the $500 billion price tag.
* * *
“Just awesome.”
Christina was on top of the world, literally. She had commanded the successful launch of her first shuttle mission as pilot, and she was bursting with ecstasy. Covered in sweat, she thought, Damn, it’s good to get out of that freakin’ spacesuit. When she took off the helmet, she could hear one of the mission specialists throwing up. It was Rhani. Someone always got sick on ascent. Christina felt fine; she loved the feeling of weightlessness. Every girl’s dream, she mused, quick way to lose 140 pounds. She looked overhead and saw an amazing sight, the bright, blue ball, Earth, from a distance of 250 miles. It was almost too beautiful to comprehend, and every first-time astronaut was humbled by the sight. She was staring in wonderment at North Africa, the Sahara Desert and the Mediterranean Sea.
It took about three hours, one full orbit, to go through the first steps of preparation, and it was already midnight eastern. So they all climbed into their suspended sleeping bags to get some rest before a full day of DROID testing. Christina was still wound up like a top, but she had to chuckle. When completely relaxed, her arms floated upward like a supine zombie. How in hell is anyone supposed to sleep like this? she laughed. She grabbed her water bottle and took an Ambien. Her nighttime prayer was short, Thank you God for helping me not screw it up. She re-sequenced the launch over and over in her mind with a feeling of achievement. Finally, she drifted off into her own orbital dreamscape.
* * *
Every day was a beautiful day in space. Daytime was short, less than two hours, but beautiful none-the-less. Christina was in her spacesuit along with Rhani in the cargo bay of New Hope. The huge container was quite crowded. Besides their Man Maneuvering Units --MMUs--there was a large target cylinder called ZERO and the DROID robot. The robot was an odd looking contraption shaped like a huge disk with four arms extending from the periphery. A third unit was similar to DROID but extended in the rear, packed with enough explosives to flatten a large building. There was no official name for it, but they referred to the Top Secret attack vehicle as The Monster.
MMUs had come a long way since first tested in the ‘80s. They were much smaller and more reliable. Astronauts used them with confidence to scuttle around on EVAs without a safety harness or tether. It was just a matter of operating two joysticks, like a video game. The left stick controlled forward and reverse thrusters, the right one pitch and yaw. Christina marveled at the incredible feeling of floating free outside the shuttle. The physics was mind boggling to think a human body could travel at 25,000 miles per hour around the Earth and survive.
She struggled with her straps thinking, Weightlessness would seem to make work easy, but it’s just the opposite. Trying to get enough leverage to do anything was a real chore. She grasped the MMU handhold with a tinge of fear as she climbed aboard. The idea of floating away from the mother ship by mistake was petrifying. If she just pushed free with the force of her arms, she would quickly drift into the blackness of space, like someone jumping overboard from a cruise liner. She would simply be absorbed by the vastness of the universe. Death would come when the oxygen ran dry, death by asphyxiation. Cremation would come later as her spacesuit slowed toward reentry. A sobering thought, she shuddered. Her mind continued to wander. It occurred to her that once floating free in the MMU, her body would be traveling at Mach 35.
Wow, the fastest bitch alive, she giggled. C’mon, girl, get back on task.
She abandoned the daydreaming and tried to concentrate on getting strapped to her MMU. The unit was attached to the wall of the cargo bay, and she had all the straps snapped but one. It was always hard to handle small items with bulky gloves. Her heart raced and sweat was building on her forehead, so she stopped, took a deep breath and tried to relax.
There was so much visual stimulation, with the colorful Earth below and the black space above, it was hard to focus. The vivid contrast between space and planet and the infinitesimal layer of atmosphere visible on the horizon were eye-popping. Gee, that’s all that protects us from asteroids? The black abyss was jam-packed with so many stars it was hard to believe it was the same sky she had seen as a child. Above the hazy dome, the heavens were both awesome and humbling. Such a huge universe, she thought. Is anyone out there looking back at me?
“Hey Stick, what’s taking you so long? We’re already behind schedule.” Rhani was jetting around the bay.
“Rhani, my boy, I can see you’re mounted up. Would you please zip over here and help me with this strap?”
He didn’t answer, but she could see him moving her way. It was 10:30 a.m. eastern daylight time, but of course, that meant nothing in orbit. Night and day flashed by every few hours. She could see the Baja peninsula directly below as they crossed northern Mexico.
“Which strap?”
“Over here on my left ankle.”
“I see it.” He pulled it though until it latched. “Now, what would you have done had I not been here?” he asked.
“I would’ve got it, eventually. Thanks. Now let’s get to work. Sandy, I’m releasing my MMU, and we’re ready to go.”
/> “Roger that Stick,” said Virginia Roberts, called Sandy because of her dishwater-blonde hair. I’ve got the arm in position. It’ll hold DROID in place for initialization. Will you head over and release it from the bay?”
“Roger.”
Christina and Rhani flew to the center of the cargo bay side by side to loosen the restraint latches. There were eight latches on each side, and it took a few minutes to clear them all.
“Okay, I’ve switched her on full power, and she’s free.” She knew her voice gave her away. She was clearly thrilled. She even sounded a little dopey when she started singing, “Yes sir, that’s my baby. . .no sir, don’t mean maybe. . .”
Sandy lifted the robot out of the bay and released it about ten meters below, flying in formation with the shuttle. In its typical orientation, the spacecraft was inverted with the bay doors facing Earth. Christina activated her remote control and started maneuvering the DROID.
