* * * *
While he was waiting for Gayle to arrive, Crash went through the rest of his email. The notes from his publisher and literary agent were simple, enthusiastic, and gratifying reports on his novel sales. The NASA press releases were about the disaster investigation, and were, to Crash, old news.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subj: shuttle
Recvd 09:47 CDT Tu Jul 13
Hey Emmett Ray--
Just wanted to hear from you, big brother. Sally and I been kinda worried about ya. Let us hear from you when you can. Love ya.
L8r,
Jimmy
Reply To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: >shuttle
Hi Jim-Bob ;-)
Doing OK. Things are getting interesting. Take Sally and the kids and go on a long trip. Don't tell **anyone** where you're going. Not even me. Leave a.s.a.p. This is *not* a suggestion. #{ Love ya, kiddo. Stay safe.
Crash
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subj: Sorry
Recvd 15:04 CDT W Jul 14
Crash,
Sorry I wasn't able to tell you goodbye before I left, but I got drafted to be a special courier. I just heard about Mitch. That was just… *awful*. I think he had a wife and kids, too, didn't he? I was *so* sorry to hear. And now you've lost **two** friends in just a few days. Well, you haven't lost *me*. It was *good* to see you again, Crash. I'll personally make sure you get copies of the flight ops transcript and tape dub. Let me know if you need *anything* else. And if you just need to talk, I'm *always* available.
Lisa
Crash rolled his eyes at the suggestiveness of the message, and following his normal routine, dumped all his email to the printer, then purged the mail queue. Just then he heard the sound of tires on gravel, and Phantom, Crash's faithful, if somewhat far-ranging, black Labrador, began barking like an idiot. Glancing out the window, he saw Gayle's blue four wheel drive pulling up in the twilight. She parked under the big live oak beside the driveway.
Crash headed out the front door. "Need any help with your things, Gayle?" he called.
* * * *
Gayle looked up from reading the email. "Oh, dear Lord. And you think…"
Crash nodded. "Mitch didn't die in an accident. And now you know about the faked medical records. So…"
Gayle went white to the lips. She swayed, light-headed, and Crash steadied her swiftly. "Sit down," he murmured, easing her down onto the black leather couch behind her. "You okay, sweetheart?"
The flight surgeon glanced in apprehension at the dark windows. "No, I'm scared witless," she admitted honestly. "Crash, what's going on? What happened to Atlantis, that all this is going down?"
"I don't know, Gayle," Crash admitted, sitting down beside the frightened woman and pulling her red-golden head onto his broad shoulder. "Whatever it was, it was important enough for somebody to be willing to kill to cover it up."
At that statement, Gayle began trembling. Crash heard a soft sob, and he tightened his hold, pulling her into his lap, stroking the strawberry blonde hair in an attempt to comfort her. "Ssshh," he whispered. "It's okay, baby, it's okay. That's why I told you to come here, so you wouldn't be alone." He rested his cheek against the top of her head.
"But, Crash, whoever it is… they'll know you know, too. About both things."
"They may not know about the medical records yet."
"They do by now," Gayle sighed against his chest. "I thought it was somebody's sick practical joke got way the hell out of hand. So I raised holy Cain about it when I got back to the office… like a fool."
"Mmm. Oh. Well, uh. Yeah… they know. Whoever ‘they' are." Crash found himself becoming very aware of Gayle's heartbeat.
Gayle raised her head just then and gazed into Crash's brown eyes. "We're dead, aren't we, Crash?" she whispered, blue eyes dilated with fear.
"No…" Crash breathed, desire flaring in his dark eyes, "no, we're far from dead…" He heard Gayle's breath catch when he bent his head to hers. As his mouth covered her soft lips, one firm, strong hand slipped up into her silky, red-gold hair, pulling her head back as her lips parted.
As the kiss slowly ended, Crash murmured, "Still feelin' scared?"
"Oh, no," Gayle whispered, sultry blue gaze fixed on his lips. "No, scared isn't what I'm feeling right now…"
"C'mon. Let's go… get you… unpacked…"
* * * *
Anders had his laptop hooked up to the big Dobsonian telescope. This made it easy to do his observations, as the point and click capability of the laptop enabled him to pull up a star chart onscreen, locate his chosen subject, click, and the drive on the telescope aimed it wherever he had indicated. Likewise, the CCD was commanded from the little computer, and each image displayed itself on the laptop's screen before storing itself to file.
Approximately an hour and a quarter before the predicted occultation, Anders had his star chosen: A nice, ordinary star, spectral class G IV, similar to the Sun, with not one interesting feature about it, one that was often used as a calibration star, it was so consistent. A perfect background, he considered, for checking out an occultation. Nothing to interfere, no variability, nice and steady. And with that thought, he set up his observing sequence.
For the first hour, Anders decided to get some baseline observations. He took one thirty-second exposure every minute for the initial five minutes in order to calibrate his observations, then one exposure every ten minutes, scrutinizing each for any sign of dimming. Just to make sure he didn't miss anything, he also used the photometric program to quantitatively measure the brightness of each observation.
At ten minutes before the predicted occultation, he resumed the original observation frequency of once per minute, then, in the last three minutes, Anders set off the automated sequence, which took continuous exposures with no break in between. Meanwhile, he stared at the images, focusing on the star he wanted to see disappear, while a small countdown clock in the corner of the screen beeped down the time.
The clock alarm went off.
Nothing happened.
Anders kept the observing rate high for an additional five minutes past the scheduled occultation, just to make sure, then reduced the rate to once per minute for the next fifteen minutes.
Worried, Anders commanded the computer to show the exposures as a movie sequence. He sat and watched the screen. In the top left corner, a tiny meteor sputtered across the image, before breaking up and fading. Another shot through the bottom of the screen, some five minutes before the calculated occultation. But not a single star in the image, let alone the one in question, so much as wavered in brightness.
"Dammit," Anders muttered in disappointment, before shutting down the observation run, stowing his equipment, and heading off to bed.
* * * *
They made it as far as the hallway before Crash scooped Gayle up in his arms, carrying her into his own bedroom, instead of into the guest room. There, he laid her gently on the bed before easing his weight onto her. Her arms slipped around him, pulling him close, as his lips found hers with a sigh.
Gayle was still trembling, but not with fear. Dimly Crash was aware that small delicate fingers fiddled with his shirt buttons. Moments later, he felt her soft, warm hands contact his skin, and she slid her arms around him inside the chambray of his shirt. He reached back with one hand and tugged his shirttail out of his jeans, giving her hands room to move. There was a soft thud, repeated moments later, as her shoes fell to the floor. Then he chuckled into the kiss as he felt her bare toes prying at his cowboy boots, determined to remove them.
"All right," he grinned, sitting up, "let's do this right." Gayle giggled as Crash slipped off his boots and socks and removed his belt. He reached for the fly of his jeans, but Gayle's hands prevented him.
"No, no," she murmured, smiling, batting his hands away, "that's my job.
"
"Then this…" he grinned and reached for her shirt, "is mine."
"Yes…"
Crash took his time, even when Gayle teased him about, "nothing coming between him and his jeans;" he had come to realize that this woman, above all those he'd dated in the past, held his heart and always had, and he enjoyed giving her pleasure. As he took his time removing her clothing, he let his hands stray, caressing soft, warm, fragrant skin, and listening to the quiet sighs that escaped her. She slid sensual arms around him, drawing his head down to her naked breast, and he rested his cheek against it as his hands slipped beneath the small of her back. He pulled her close, inhaling deeply of her scent, feeling the flames of passion rise higher within and between them. Crash's eyes fluttered closed in pleasure as Gayle's fingers feathered down his spine.
"I love you, Emmett Ray Murphy," Gayle whispered, feeling his chest rumble as he growled tenderly in response. "You're the only man I know who could take me from panic-stricken to passionate inside of five minutes."
"Ssh," Crash shushed her.
"What?"
"Busy right now."
She started to laugh, then gasped as his lips nuzzled her nipple. "Mmmh."
"You like that?" he murmured against the rosy little mound.
"Yes…"
"Good." Crash lavished affection on that breast before turning his attention to its twin. Another gasp from Gayle rewarded him, and he smiled to himself as his hands wandered down her back, cupping her full hips to pull her belly against his manhood, whereupon he let out a groan of desire.
She reached down and pushed on his erection, gently forcing it downwards as she parted her legs. He tried to enter her, but she kept pushing, then abruptly closed her legs, imprisoning him between her thighs. Another groan escaped him, as her wetness rubbed against his shaft, and he thrust against her, letting the movement stimulate them both.
A soft, whispered, "Now," reached his consciousness, and he growled his passion as Gayle opened to him and he thrust deep. Her moan of ecstasy rewarded him.
"Gayle?" Crash's voice was low and rough with desire.
"Mm?"
"Love you too."
Gayle's eyes glowed with happiness, and she eased them over, until she rested atop him. He promptly grabbed all the pillows within reach, stuffing them behind his shoulders, so that he reclined, the better to wrap his arms around her from that position. Experimentally, she tried a slow thrust. "Mmm."
"Me, too." His big hands wrapped around her waist, holding her close. "But here. Let me drive. I don't want you wearing out before I'm done with you." He laughed at the lustful sparkle that lit Gayle's eyes at his statement. He gave a powerful thrust to punctuate his words. "Yeah, baby, it's gonna be a long evening."
"Sounds good to me," she grinned, as his body began to move beneath and within her. Her eyelids fluttered closed. "Oh," she moaned despite herself, "I love this… so much. Love you so much."
"I know, darling," he whispered. "I know. Me, too. As God is my witness, it took me all these years, and in the end she was right under my nose the whole time, but I finally found her. Right here. For now and always."
For answer, her eyes opened, and she smiled at him as she reached out, drawing her fingertips down his cheek. He leaned his head into her light touch, pressing his cheek into the palm of her hand. Her thumb caressed his high, wide cheekbone lovingly, and in response his hands slid up her sides to cup her breasts, his own thumbs stroking tenderly over her nipples.
After a few minutes of contented pleasure, Crash noticed Gayle's shoulders start to slump forward, and he realized her back was getting tired. He drew her toward him, raising his knees behind her as he did so, to maintain the depth of thrusting while she rested against his chest. He felt her arms slip beneath the hollow of his back, to hold him.
"Thump, thump… thump, thump…" she murmured.
"Thump what?" he asked, confused, wondering if she wanted him to change the rhythm.
"Your heart. Thump, thump. Thump, thump." Gayle snuggled her cheek deeper against his chest.
"Oh," he said, realizing that her ear rested against his sternum. His hands stroked along her back, feeling the silky skin. "I thought you wanted me to change something."
"No," she sighed, writhing sensuously in his arms, "it's perfect as it is. Don't stop."
"I won't."
Within seconds, she was panting, as her body began to stiffen, arousal building. He felt the tension growing in her. Gayle's panting turned to gasps as her excitement increased, becoming nearly intolerable. Her hands locked behind the small of his back, refusing to let go, as her passion mounted.
Then her entire body stiffened, appearing to strain against invisible bonds. Crash's strong hands held her in place as he delivered several powerful, distinct thrusts. Gayle gave a low, protracted moan, and she seemed to explode in Crash's arms, writhing and thrashing wildly against him, gasping, groaning, as her body spent itself on him.
Abruptly Crash began to pant as well, his hands leaving her hips to dig into the bedclothes beneath him, as he felt a sudden intense jolt of pleasure that began at the tip of his shaft, expanding downward into his loins, then outward, blowing away all comprehensible thought. He gave a hoarse, incoherent cry, and erupted within his lover.
Crash groaned in ecstasy. His body had become an untamed mustang, uncontrolled, leaping, bucking, and thrusting against the woman who rode him. Desperate to express himself to this wonderful woman, he cried out. "Gayle!" he gasped. "I love you!"
Gayle's heart soared as she heard the cry, and knew that it came straight from his heart, unfeigned, in his moment of total vulnerability. "I love you, too, Crash!" she breathed into his ear, then her mouth clamped onto the curve where his throat met his shoulder, both in passion, and to suppress the sounds that issued from deep within her.
Crash felt the hungry kiss, and tilted his head aside in a wordless request for more. Dimly he became aware that he would have the mother of all hickeys the next day, and laughed to himself, not caring in the least.
Gradually their bodies subsided, spent. Gayle slumped on top of Crash, unmoving. Crash lay quiescent; his arms limp around his lover, content to lie there with her, still joined to her.
They drifted off to sleep, still entwined.
Chapter 9
Well before sunrise the next day, Crash had already done the morning chores, gotten the mail, showered and dressed in a chambray shirt and jeans. As soon as he was ready, he went into the kitchen, making a large breakfast for two. "Gayle!" he ducked into the hall and called into the bedroom, "time to get up!" A moan sounded from somewhere in the depths of the bedroom, followed by a rueful giggle. The sounds of motion came through the doorway moments after, and he returned to the kitchen, greeting Gayle with a kiss on top of her head as she stumbled, half-awake, into the room about fifteen minutes later, clad in a faded grey NASA meatball t-shirt and worn jeans.
"Still keepin' doctor's hours, I see," he teased with an affectionate smile. "Sleep okay?"
"Well, I did have the evening shift on 281. Not quite back to normal hours yet," Gayle made excuse, flushing and giving him a sheepish grin. "Yeah, I slept all right, considering. You?"
"Umm… I got up later on, and spent most of the night reading log books…" Crash focused on removing the bacon from the frying pan, casually keeping his back to his girlfriend.
"And keeping watch over the place, I'll bet," Gayle hazarded a guess, and watched as Crash averted his reddening face.
"Well," he said in a husky voice, "there was somebody very special to me, spending the night. I wanted to make sure she stayed safe."
Gayle, deeply touched, choked, unable to speak. She watched silently as he sat plates of bacon, eggs, and homemade biscuits on the kitchen table. "Mmm… that smells good," she managed to get out.
"Yeah. Not exactly a ‘heart healthy diet,'" Crash grinned as they sat down and dug in, "but once in awhile…"
"Yeah," Gayle agreed, then added, sad sapphire e
yes glimmering, "last meal for the condemned?"
"NO," Crash insisted. "Now quit talking like that. I did some planning last night."
"Okay, let's hear it."
"All right. You and I are going to disappear, honey. I want you to take Highway 290 back into the Houston inter-loop. Go all the way to I-10, head east on the interstate, and keep going. When you get to Lake City, Florida, hit Interstate 75 south, then take the Florida Turnpike to Orlando. This is…" he glanced at the calendar on the refrigerator, "Thursday morning. I'll meet you Saturday night at 7 o'clock Eastern in front of Spaceship Earth at EPCOT. We had fun there that time, and no one will expect it. You take the medical records, and I'll get all the other stuff. We can get clothes and shit when we get to Orlando, ‘cause I've got cash. Then we'll sort it out from there. Do NOT use your real name. Use… let's see… ‘Gwen Thompson.' And try not to use your credit cards."
"All right. But I've got a better idea. Why don't you come with me?" Gayle proposed, trying not to seem anxious at the prospect of going alone.
"Two reasons: One, it'll be harder--on whoever the hell it is that's masterminding the cover up--to get us, if we split up. Two, I've got a couple of things I need to arrange before I can afford to disappear, and I'll feel better if you go ahead and get out of pocket."
"All right," Gayle sighed, defeated. "I'll go get my junk and load up the Suburban."
About an hour later, they both stood beneath the live oak, beside Gayle's vehicle. Her luggage was just visible through the dark tinted windows of the cargo area in the back. "Be careful, Crash," she whispered, hugging him.
Burnout: The Mystery of Space Shuttle STS-281 Page 9
