T-Minus Two

by K. G. MacGregor

  Andi lifted a forkful of baked beans. “So are beans, ’cept they don’t taste like Elmer’s Glue.”

  “No, but they cause flatulence, and as your roommate, I’d prefer you ate poi.”

  “Cain’t argue with ya there.” Andi leaned back and rolled her shoulders. “I’m gonna be sore tomorrow. I pushed it too hard climbing that rope today without using my legs.”

  Otherwise known as showing off.

  “I nearly puked after the cardio this morning,” Mila confessed. “I’ve never run two miles in twelve minutes in my whole life.” The baseline fitness level needed to earn a passing grade was sixteen minutes, but she wanted to excel.

  “You think we’ll make the first cut?” Andi’s voice was somber, a marked change in her usual cockiness.

  Everyone was nervous about what the morning would bring. Half would go to the next level while the others either joined the ranks of the support team or went home.

  “I’m pretty sure I will. You?”

  Andi shook her head. “No idea. The concentration tests killed me. I’m not used to having to do things so fast. I’m a biochemist, not a jet pilot. We take our time in the lab, double-checking, triple-checking. My scores came up a little after the first day, but so did everybody else’s, so my rank is stuck around the midtwenties. That might not be good enough.”

  If Andi got cut, she’d get a new roommate. Maybe someone worse. Better the devil she knew.

  “They’re puttin’ all of us in teams for the next round, you know,” Andi went on. “I heard one of the assistants say they’d probably pair us up with our roommates, since we were already matched by computer as a good fit. You think we are?”

  “For our skills, yes. For our specialties, yes. For our personalities, no.”

  “Aw, come on. We get along just fine. I bet one of the reasons they put us together was because we’re both gay. Maybe they figure we’ll hit it off.”

  The thought alone was enough to make her choke without the oh-so-confident flirtatious smile Andi threw in to see if she’d bite. Mila snapped back, “We will most certainly not hit it off. You are so far from my type, you might as well be another species.”

  “Lemme guess. You like your girls in high heels, short skirts, painted faces.”

  “I like women, not girls. And I don’t care what they wear as long as they’re intelligent, independent,”—she ticked off the words on her fingers—“enjoy the tango, and don’t mind being worshipped, because that’s what I do when I find a woman who is worthy of my affections.”

  All in all, it was the perfect description of Frederica, with whom she’d had an off and on relationship for the past nine years. Twenty-one years older, her mother’s colleague from the university. And mother of a ten-year-old boy who drove Mila insane with his incessant neediness. Frederica’s problem was that she didn’t enjoy being worshipped publicly, at least not by another woman. Always hiding. Always pretending. Even around her son, which made having a relationship with her more challenging than the Tenacity trials.

  “The tango? Are you seriously from this planet?”

  “Hopefully not. I’d like very much to be from another one soon.”

  * * *

  Jancey patted her stomach after finishing the last bite of a delicious grilled mahi-mahi with mango sauce, served poolside by Konani. “Too bad Konani didn’t apply for Tenacity. I’d love to take her to Mars.”

  “Over my dead body,” Grace said. “Lana hired her, you know. She was a janitor at the telescope center and got laid off. Lana sent her to culinary school and after three months we both had to go on a diet. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

  And vice versa. Jancey had been a visitor to the seaside home for a dozen years and knew Konani was far more than just a live-in cook and housekeeper. She also was Grace’s personal assistant and trusted companion, and Jancey liked knowing she was there, especially after Lana died.

  “That goes for you too,” Grace said. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you once you go to Mars.”

  Jancey sipped her Frangelico, one of the few indulgences she allowed herself, knowing it would help her sleep. “Don’t count your chickens. I may not be going anywhere, especially now that I know if I stay here, I can eat like that.”

  “Where do you think you stand?”

  “I should be okay for this round. We’ll find out tomorrow morning, seven o’clock. Then it’s back to the lecture hall all day to talk about teamwork.” Jancey refused to worry about surviving the first cut. She’d hardly felt challenged so far, logging nearly perfect scores on every test. “Next they’ll pair us with someone at random to see how we work as a team. I have to manage not to kill my partner for six whole days.”

  “You should be able to last that long…I think.”

  “We’ll see. Depends on who they give me. I have a suspicion it’ll be Shel Montgomery, since we were teamed together for the fitness tests.”

  “Is that good or bad?”

  “The jury’s still out. She’s a science writer. I looked up some of her work. It’s good. Logical, original. She did great on the concentration and comprehension tests. Top ten percent. I’ll be surprised if she makes it much further though. Not hands-on enough. I wish they’d let us pick our own partner.”

  “They will once you’re down to sixteen. That’s the group that goes up on Mauna Kea for six weeks. In the meantime, they’re doing all the pairings within your color group.”

  Grace had enough inside information on the assessment process for Jancey to speculate she was part of the selection committee, but sworn to secrecy. There were three or four others who’d kicked in major funds too. They probably had a say in the outcome as well.

  “I’m thinking about asking Marlon Quinn if he wants to pair up. With our training and experience, we ought to be unbeatable.”

  Her main concern with Marlon was the committee disregarding objective criteria in favor of making a public relations splash. Choosing a pair of NASA-trained astronauts to go to Mars was hardly outside the box. They might be tempted to choose one of the married couples, who were allowed to partner with one another throughout the competition. Or someone famous, like one of the athletes or politicians. If they opted for a safe choice, it most likely would be a pair of men. Straight men, not the gay couple from Norway, even though one was an astronaut from the European Space Agency.

  “Do you think you could live out your years with Marlon Quinn?”

  “Sure, why not? He wants to go as badly as I do, so we’d make it work. He’s a good guy. We respect each other. That counts for a lot.”

  “I’m thinking more about what happens at the end of the day. That’s a lot of time to while away with someone who doesn’t sing from your choir book.”

  Grace offered to pour another Frangelico, but Jancey waved it away. It was an unspoken ritual that Grace would have three drinks over the course of each day. Never less, rarely more. An afternoon cocktail, a glass of wine with dinner and an after-dinner cordial. A longstanding habit that honored her years with Lana.

  “You can do better than Marlon, you know. You just have to know where to look.”

  “Where to look? Trust me, I know exactly where to look. My hormones are still clicking enough that I still notice an interesting woman when she walks by. One in particular, in fact, and I’d lay you odds she sings from our choir book.”

  “Do tell.”

  “A little on the green side. A lot on the green side, actually, but smart. Very smart. You show her something once and she’s got it. A propulsion engineer.” She recalled her impression the day Mila sat down across from her in the cafeteria. “There’s something about her eyes. I can’t put my finger on it, but they’re different…interesting. And that Eastern European accent with the hard R’s. Like a spy from the Cold War.”

  “So why in the world would you pick Marlon Quinn when you could have someone like that?”

  Jancey laughed. “She’s just a baby. Twenty-seven years old. She’
ll probably make it to Mars eventually but not for another ten years.”

  “Lana was twenty-seven when we met. And I was forty-five. If I’d turned her down because I thought she was a child, I’d have lived a lonely life.”

  “The difference is you didn’t want to be alone. Apparently I do. Monica, Lindsay, Jill…they had me pegged. I only want what’s important to me, and to hell with everyone else.” The last she added with no small dose of agitation. Just because it was true didn’t mean she liked it. Anyone as selfish as she deserved to be alone.

  “That’s not even relevant in this case. You have to go with someone. If she’s made it this far in the selection process, she wants to go to Mars just as much as you do. That makes you the perfect pair…even if you aren’t chosen to go.” Ignoring her protestations, Grace poured another inch of liqueur into her snifter. “To help you sleep. Just promise me, Jancey…if it doesn’t work out, think about staying on with the program. Teach them what they need to know to live on Mars. You can even get in line to try again, but better yet…find someone who shares your passion for the stars and settle down. Let someone in there.”

  It was a promise Jancey couldn’t make. Sticking around to watch others steal her dream was more than she could bear.

  * * *

  “I didn’t sleep at all,” Andi said as they approached the growing crowd gathered around the electronic billboard at the computer center.

  Mila knew for a fact that wasn’t true because she’d been forced in the night to put in her earplugs to muffle Andi’s snoring. “A bunch of people failed the physical fitness test. That makes our odds better.”

  “Go up there and look for me. I cain’t do it.”

  It was an emotional scene before her. Jubilation and heartbreak, cheers and tears. Mila wedged herself through the crowd until she was close enough to see the board. The names of the candidates who made the cut were listed in alphabetical order, and in parentheses was the name of their assigned partner for the next round of assessment, and their group.

  Joy and misery hit her at once: Todorov (Toloti) (Blue), and immediately below, Toloti (Todorov) (Blue).

  She scanned the board for familiar names. Beaumont (Montgomery) (Blue). Montgomery was the journalist who’d been paired with Jancey during the physical fitness tests.

  As expected, all of the astronauts were still in the running. So too the scientists and experts who’d given presentations during the overview. The robotics expert who’d helped design the rovers, and his wife, the NASA astronaut. The bacteriologist on the spacesuit team. The married couple who’d written the systems software. All were formidable candidates.

  Isaac Tobias and his yarmulke had missed the cut. So had the Blaskos, the married couple in her fitness group. In fact, she and Andi were the only two from their group of eight to make it.

  “We made it. They teamed us up for the next round.”

  Before she could get out of the way, Andi leaped onto her chest, wrapping her arms and legs around her. “That’s so awesome, Mila! You and me. We’re gonna rule.”

  “Get off me, please,” Mila said dryly. “If you break my back, I’ll be disqualified.”

  She grudgingly admitted to herself they made a competent team. Provided, of course, they could overcome Andi’s lapses in concentration. And Mila’s urge to kill her.

  * * *

  The selection committee hadn’t bothered to pair candidates according to their skills, which suggested they weren’t planning to assess on any of the specific elements related to the mission. This was about teamwork, and it was apparent they’d preserved a number of the teams from the physical fitness test.

  Jancey felt certain she could work with Shel Montgomery, but it was difficult to imagine Shel moving on after this round. An astronaut couldn’t rely only on her brain, or even her brawn. She needed finer skills, such as dexterity and good reaction time, something you didn’t get from years at a keyboard. That said, Shel had earned her respect by pushing herself hard on the fitness test.

  Inside the lecture hall, candidates buzzed with excitement over making the cut.

  Shel slid into the seat next to her. “Sorry they saddled you with this old albatross again. Between you and me, I was surprised to see my name on the list.”

  “I’m sure they were impressed by how much you improved after only three days in the gym.”

  “It felt more like six. I went in there every night after dinner. I had to do something or it was lights out.”

  Jancey was even more inspired. “You show that kind of dedication over the next couple of weeks, you just might find yourself on the short list.”

  “Don’t let my wife hear you say that. The only reason she let me come was because I convinced her I didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell. She thinks I’m here working on a story.”

  “Your wife?” Jancey’s gaydar was obviously broken. “You’d actually leave her if you got chosen?”

  “Tough call. This is Mars we’re talking about.”

  If anyone understood that, it was Jancey, though Shel’s jovial tone suggested she had no real intention of following through, nor the expectation that she had a legitimate shot.

  “I wonder how many of these people have a wife or husband at home. Can you imagine the ruckus when they said they wanted to go to Mars?”

  Shel huffed. “I don’t have to imagine it. Pat thought I was crazy.”

  “You are. We all are.”

  Chapter Five

  Throughout the first round of testing, Mila had gone to sleep each night hearing Danielle Zion’s booming voice in her head. Lift more, run faster, climb higher. She’d expected a break now that the fitness testing was finished. No such luck.

  No matter what the activity, if it took place in her gym, Zion was in charge. Here she was again, pacing the hardwood floor like the lord of her castle.

  Now on their third day of testing with partners, Mila was optimistic about surviving yet another round. Her reaction time scores were superb, thanks to thousands of hours of playing BattleStorm. High enough in fact to carry Andi, who wasn’t as quick.

  Moriya Ito, who headed up the instrumentation team, had put them through an exhaustive battery of dexterity tests, all of which required teamwork. Sorting nails and screws, assembling pins and washers, pushing pegs into holes of various shapes and sizes. Simple stuff until the second round, when they’d been given bulky work gloves and glasses that limited their field of vision.

  Only one more afternoon of tests before tomorrow’s cut, which would take them down to sixty-four.

  Zion split them into groups of eight, with one observer in a yellow staff shirt assigned to each group to keep track of scores and take notes on individual performances. Notes for the mysterious selection committee, no doubt.

  Mila was intrinsically motivated to do well, but having Major Beaumont and her partner in her group brought out her best effort.

  Just call me Jancey.

  That was hard to do, especially since Jancey not only called her Todorov, she made it sound as if it came from a barking bulldog. Toloti’s name was even worse, like a throat-clearing.

  Also in the group were the Fagans, Brandon and Libby, both MIT grads. Brandon was the robotics engineer whose company had built the Mars rover that launched a couple of weeks ago aboard Tenacity I. His wife was a NASA astronaut with a PhD in botany, but she’d never flown a mission. Still, their complementary skills made them a sure bet to advance.

  Rounding out their group were Guillermo Rojas and Wei Chai. Throughout the morning, the two had provided comic relief trying to communicate with each other, one with a heavy Spanish accent and the other, Chinese.

  “I want all groups lined up behind the cones,” Zion yelled. “On your butts, side by side with your partner.”

  Mila’s mind flashed back to the games she’d played in primary school. Many of the Tenacity exercises they’d done as partners were quite similar to children’s games, but here the stakes were much higher.


  It was undeniable she and Andi made an effective team. Only once had she really, really wanted to kill her. That was when Andi made a joke to the others about Mila eating poi with every meal. It’s high in fluorine, she’d mocked in a high, squeaky voice. Jancey had laughed. Snorted, actually. Mila wanted to crawl under a rock.

  At the front of each line, Zion had placed several small wooden blocks of varying shapes. Toddler toys, the kind they stacked into castles, cars or monsters.

  “Imagine you’re in space and your vessel suffers external damage. One of you has to put on the spacesuit and go outside to fix it. The other has to stay inside and read the instructions aloud. That’s what we’re doing here. First team in the line, come up to the front and have a seat back to back. One partner gets the blocks, the other gets the envelope. Inside is a picture of a structure using all the pieces. You’ll have two minutes to describe to your partner how to build the structure you see.”

  A staff observer stood by to supervise the activity and record scores. And no doubt to keep anyone from turning around to sneak a peek at the photograph.

  Mila and Andi were first in their line, and Mila got the envelope.

  “Let’s make this a bit more realistic, shall we?” Zion handed out two pairs of gloves, one made of stiff rubber, and the other bulky canvas. “Put the rubber ones on first.”

  “I feel like an idiot,” Andi said as she wiggled her fingers open and shut. “And don’t you dare say what you’re thinking.”

  “Questions?” Zion allowed less than two seconds to respond. “Proceed.”

  Mila ripped open the envelope. “This would be so much easier if I spoke Texan.”

  “Or if I spoke Bulgarian gibberish.”

  “Oops, I’ve loosened your tether. There you go…drifting away.” She rotated the photo until she was sure she had it upright. “Start with the rhomboid. Lay it flat on the floor with the smaller angle on the lower left side. Next, stand the trapezoid upright with the widest side as the base, bisecting the center of the rhomboid with the ends at two o’clock and eight. Now take the triangle…” Using precise angles and measures, they were able to reconstruct the sculpture with relative ease well before time ran out.