by John Olson
A short silence.
Valkerie turned to Bob. A frown creased his brow and his jaw muscles bulged. What was going on? Was he angry? Annoyed? He turned to Perez with a look bordering on disgust.
Valkerie’s belly clenched into a hard knot. Was he having second thoughts about Friday? Perez’s knowing looks weren’t helping at all. What if Bob had just been trying to be nice? Volunteering to show the new kid around. Of course he would resent Perez’s implications. What if he was already dating someone? What if he was engaged?
“Well,” Perez said. “Bob, I’d appreciate you helping Valkerie get oriented, if you would. She’s a fantastic scientist, and we think she’s going to make a terrific addition … somewhere.”
Valkerie felt like she’d just dropped over the edge of the roller coaster. Terrific addition? Did that mean she was in? Bob had said Perez was a bulldog. Maybe the ASCAN program wasn’t as rigid as she’d been told.
Bob studied Perez for a long moment. He was gripping the bars of the treadmill so hard his knuckles were white.
Finally, something clicked behind his eyes. He smiled at Valkerie. Really smiled at her with genuine down-to-her-toes warmth. “If you knew Dr. Perez, you’d know that you just got a major league compliment. So, um …” His adam’s apple bobbed twice. “Welcome to NASA, Valkerie.”
Perez took her arm. “If you could come along with me, we’ve got work to do. I’ve just been talking to the president, and she tipped me off that the senate subcommittee is on the warpath again. We need to be ready—and I think I know how to do an end-around on them.”
Valkerie threw a look back at Bob. “It was great meeting you, Dr. Kaganovski. Really great.” She nodded to emphasize the last words.
A lopsided grin twisted Bob’s face. “See you Friday!”
Perez took her by the arm and guided her toward the door. “Friday, huh?” He shot her a look. “You two have plans for Friday?”
Her throat was so tight she couldn’t say anything. She just nodded and blushed furiously.
“Well … I’d say that went extremely well.” He practically pushed her out of the lab and led her down a long corridor at a rapid clip. “Sorry for the rush, but we’re way behind schedule. The photo shoot should have started half an hour ago.”
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize. Don’t worry about me. I can find my way back to the hotel. Go on to your shoot—”
“My shoot?” Perez turned to her with a laugh. “I’m not doing the shoot. Why would anyone want to read about me?”
Valkerie stumbled to a halt.
Perez took her by the arm and pulled her forward.
“Me? Why? I’m not even an ASCAN yet. This can’t be … I mean … is this some kind of test?”
Perez shook his head. “Becoming an ASCAN is a big deal. The world’s going to want to know all about you.”
“But a photo shoot? I’m not—” She reached up and tried to beat back her unruly curls. “I’m a mess. If I’d known I was getting my picture taken—”
“Relax. Everything’s been taken care of.” Perez stopped outside a set of double doors and flung one of them open to reveal a large lab that had been transformed into a photo studio, complete with lights, umbrellas, and black-tee-shirted photographers. “NBS is providing makeup, costuming and hair. All you have to do is relax, sit back and smile for the cameras.”
“Right.” Valkerie stepped reluctantly into the room and was immediately swarmed by black tee-shirts.
Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. Something was wrong. Something was horribly wrong, and it didn’t have anything to do with being an ASCAN.
Chapter Four
Friday, August 24, Year One, 4:35 P.M.
Valkerie
VALKERIE PERCHED ON THE EDGE of a sixties-era gray metal chair, glancing nervously up at the clock whenever the psychologist looked away. It was 4:35. If the test wasn’t over soon, she wasn’t going to have time to change clothes for her date. Bob Kaganovski. Unbelievable. She hadn’t been in Houston a week and she had a date with Bob Kaganovski.
“Seven, six, four, nine, five, five, seven, five, eight, one, four.” Dr. Hartmann paced back and forth in the small room. “Repeat back the list. Now!”
“Seven, six, four, nine, five ...” Valkerie repeated the numbers calmly.
“Faster!”
“ ... five, seven, five, eight—”
“Start all over. From the beginning.” Hartmann tapped on a table with her pen.
“Seven, six, four, nine, five, five, eight—”
“Wrong! The next number is a seven.” Hartmann scribbled in her notebook furiously. “A mistake like that could cost someone’s life. Pay attention!”
Valkerie bit her lip. How was she supposed to pay attention to numbers when her life was being turned inside out? The whole week had been … surreal. Wednesday afternoon’s photo shoot had been like a scene in a Tim Burton movie. Hair stylists, manicurists... They even had a guy whose job it was to blow her hair with a portable fan. Yesterday had been a circus—one interview after another from sunup to sundown. And today was even worse—she’d spent the whole morning with a crazy lady from NBS who kept smiling and jotting down notes on a legal pad. The whole thing was utterly bizarre. At first she thought it might have had something to do with her date with Bob, but the photo shoot had been scheduled way before she’d even met Bob. Was the whole thing a setup? She felt like the victim of a reality show.
“Ms. Jansen!” said Dr. Hartmann. “Are we, or are we not, taking a test?”
“We … are,” Valkerie said in a meek voice. Her interview with Dr. Abrams an hour ago had been a piece of cake. These people were obviously playing good shrink, bad shrink.
Hartmann scowled at her. “Then concentrate. Lives are at stake. Quickly. Tell me about your encounter with Bob Kaganovski.”
“What?” Valkerie’s attention snapped back to Hartmann. “How do you—”
“What was your reaction to him? Your first reaction.”
“Um …” Heat prickled her arms. There was no way in the world Valkerie was going to tell anyone her first reaction. “I … he … well, he’s really quite brilliant.”
“You administered an IQ test when you met him?” Hartmann peered steadily at Valkerie.
“No, of course not. I … we talked.”
“You talked.”
“Yes, talked. It’s something we humans do when we meet. I’ve read all Bob’s papers. We have a lot of common interests.”
“So I’ve been told.” Hartmann consulted her clipboard and a strange little smile crept across her face—the same smile she’d seen on everybody else’s face. Was everybody in on the joke but her?
Valkerie kept her eyes on Hartmann, fighting the urge to search the room for hidden cameras.
The door to the room burst open, and a tall, distinguished-looking man strode inside. “Dr. Hartmann, we need to talk right now. This Kaganovski interview has gotten way out of hand.”
Kaganovski again? What kind of idiot did they take her for? Valkerie forced a neutral expression.
Dr. Hartmann turned on the man. “Misssster Harrington, I’m in the middle of an important interview. If you’ll just make an appointment—”
The man turned to Valkerie. “Sorry about the interruption, but I have to talk with Dr. Hartmann for five minutes. It’s important.”
Valkerie nodded nonchalantly. What were they hoping to get from her? The good shrink, bad shrink routine was developing an ominous new wrinkle.
Hartmann pulled her phone out and selected a number. “Hello, Dr. Perez? I’m in the middle of interviewing Dr. Jansen, and Mr. Harrington is trying to make a scene.” She paused. “Would you? Thanks so very much.”
“Let me talk to him.” Harrington reached for the phone.
She yanked it away and flashed him a polyester smile. “He’ll be down in a moment to speak with you personally. Sir.”
“Good!” Harrington crossed his arms across his chest and glared at Dr. Hartmann.
<
br /> Dr. Hartmann stepped toward him. “If you’ll excuse me, Mister Harrington, I’ve got thirty more minutes and I still need to put Dr. Jansen through the Richardson battery.”
“The Richardson battery?” Harrington searched Valkerie’s face with a disgusted look. “She’s not an ASCAN. What’s she doing taking the Richardson battery?”
Dr. Hartmann smoothed her yellow legal pad. “She’s already passed all the physicals. Dr. Perez says she’s been doing extremely—”
“What do you mean, Perez says? Am I missing something here? Did somebody forget to hand me my pink slip? Since when does Perez do an end run on standard procedures?”
The door flew open and Perez breezed in. “Nate! Good to see you, and I guess you’ve already met Dr. Jansen.”
Nate. Nate Harrington? Where had she heard that name? Valkerie looked to Perez for an explanation.
“But we’re interrupting an interview, aren’t we?” Perez took hold of Harrington’s arm. “If you’ll just step outside with me, we have a few things to discuss.”
Harrington yanked his arm away. “What is going on here? Did I hear right? You’ve hired yourself an astronaut and you’ve got my flight surgeons checking under her hood?”
“Nate—”
“And have you seen the latest recommendation of the medical board? This is no way to run a mission.”
“Nate, calm down. I want you to meet Dr. Jansen. Leonid says she’s the best student he’s ever had.”
Valkerie stood up to shake Harrington’s hand. He stared back at her with smoldering eyes. Valkerie felt sick to her stomach. He was really furious. This wasn’t part of an act.
“Nate, she builds her own equipment, and she’s an experienced surgeon. I’m bringing her into the ASCAN class. She’ll be able to—”
“Impossible. She’s already missed too much. You can’t do this.”
“I can and I will. This isn’t a discussion.”
“So does she have to pass the tests?”
“What tests?”
“You’ve already agreed. After this class, there’ll be no more free rides for ASCANs. No more missed drills. No more sleeping during class.”
“Nate, that’s for the next class.”
“As far as I’m concerned, she is the next class. If you want me to sign off on her after she’s missed four weeks, then she’s going to pass my tests—everything I throw at her.”
“I’d hardly call that fair.”
“Fair has nothing to do with it. Just tell me one thing, all right? Do you even care about this program? Because if you don’t, if this is just some game you’re playing to move your career along, then count me out. I’ll retire and go fly my ultralights, if you’re going to do an end run—”
“Nate—”
Harrington rounded on him. “If you want me to quit, just say so, and I’m out of here.”
“I don’t want you to quit.”
“Then give me back my mission. According to the org charts, I’m in charge on this flight.”
Perez sighed. “Okay, she’ll pass your tests.”
Harrington nodded and turned on Valkerie with a look of triumph. “Nice meeting you, Dr. Jansen.”
Valkerie stepped toward him. “It was good—”
Harrington turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him.
* * *
Friday, August 24, Year One, 6:00 P.M.
Bob
Bob sprinted down the hallway and ducked into the elevator on the ground floor of Building 4S. He couldn’t remember where he was supposed to meet Valkerie, and he’d been too stupid to ask for her phone number. What an idiot! He’d been searching every place he could think of for the past forty-five minutes. His shower had already expired. If he didn’t find her soon, the date police were going to permanently revoke his right to bear armpits.
He jabbed at a button and collapsed against the back wall of the elevator. Where had she been the last couple of days? She hadn’t been with the ASCAN class. Nobody had even heard of her. He’d wandered past all the usual haunts, but hadn’t seen her once. Hadn’t seen Perez either, or even Nate.
Something weird was going on and it didn’t take a rocket boy to figure it out. They’d finally realized that Bob was the Wrong Stuff for this mission and now they were bringing in somebody better. Valkerie was a biologist and an M.D. Good looking enough that she actually fit in with the rest of the crew.
And judging by the equipment she’d described in her papers, she was an incredible engineer.
No doubt about it, Perez wanted Bob to train his own replacement.
He ought to have been furious. Some part of him wanted to punch a wall or something. To go yell at Nate and Perez for going behind his back. Tell them where they could stick their stinking flight surgeons.
But deep down inside, he knew they were right. Valkerie really was better than him for this mission. If something went horribly wrong out there, she could fix not only the machines but the people. His people. Josh and Lex and Kennedy. If Bob was Sam on the way to Mordor, then Valkerie was Frodo.
His job was to help her. End of story.
Six years of training down the tube… He swallowed back the bitterness rising in the back of his throat, and tried to focus on the good of the mission. These were his friends. They deserved someone like Valkerie. It was the right thing to do.
Why did doing the right thing feel so wrong?
The elevator chinged and the chrome doors slid open. Bob dashed out, punched in the combination on the keypad, opened the door of the Astronaut Offices, and ...
Whoa! He stumbled backward and smacked his head against the door jamb.
Valkerie was pacing back and forth in front of the crew office. Her silky black dress blasted him in the chest like a jumbo subwoofer. Flashing earrings, hair all piled up in a sexy knot-thingy ... She was dressed to kill.
Death by heart attack.
What a way to go.
Maybe he should have dressed a little spiffier. Dockers and a NASA-logo knit shirt—in Houston it was practically formal wear. But now …
He walked down the hallway on silent Nike feet. “Hi, Valkerie.”
She whirled. Her face broke into a smile. “Hi, Bob! I’m sorry, but I couldn’t remember where we were going to meet and—”
“My fault,” he said. “I forgot to tell you. I’ve been looking all over for you and ... oh, never mind.” He paused, wondering what to say next. “You look great.”
“Thanks.” Her eyes switched to high beam. “Where are we going?”
“A little Italian place just up NASA Road One. It’s called Enzo’s.”
“Sounds fantastic. I’m starving.”
Bob led the way back to the elevator. “Rough week?”
The doors chinged open again and she followed him in. “Not so much rough as just … weird. I thought Dr. Perez wanted me to join the ASCAN class, but so far it feels more like some sort of a tryout for American Idol—and I don’t even know how to sing.”
Bob let his eyes linger on her face. “You’d do pretty well on Idol, even if you just stood there and, um …” Heat rose in his cheeks. Shut up, Bob. Way too soon.
“And that lady from NBS.” Valkerie fanned her face. “She kept staring at me and licking her lips—like she was the big bad wolf and I was piggie number one. What was that all about?”
Bob sighed and closed his eyes, pressing his fingers against his aching temples. She didn’t know. He couldn’t believe she didn’t know. Where had she been for the last couple of years? NASA was paying for a big chunk of the mission by selling the TV rights for what amounted to a three-year reality show. And reality shows had nothing to do with reality, everything to do with faces like hers. No wonder they wanted him out. He was the duck in a circle of swans.
“Bob? Are you okay?”
He opened his eyes. Valkerie was studying him intently. Her eyes were big and warm and … innocent. No question about it, she had no idea what was happening. He could be mad at N
ate. Furious at Perez. But Valkerie hadn’t asked them to double-cross him. She was being tossed into this thing at the last possible second—only seventeen months before launch. Insanity. She was going to need all the help she could get.
Bob swallowed hard. “I’m … fine. Rough week myself. But probably not as rough as yours. There’s nothing worse than being this week’s steak for the media piranhas.”
Valkerie smiled at him. “Well, it’s over now.”
But it wasn’t over. It was only beginning. It was the dinner bell for a feeding frenzy that would go on and on forever. Somebody had to help her get through that.
He swallowed and returned her smile. He was crazy. Worse than crazy. It was career suicide.
But he was going to do it anyway. If they were tossing him out to make way for her, then shame on them. If he didn’t do everything he could to get her through it, then shame on him.
Simple as that.
* * *
Down in the parking lot, Bob swept the reflective shade cloth off his 1965 vintage Mustang. Candy apple red. Original everything. Geekier than a slide rule collection, but it was him. He held his breath.
“Wow, this is … amazing,” Valkerie said. “I read that you did this all yourself.”
Bob’s heart flipflopped. Was she serious or was she just being nice? He opened the door and studied her expression as she eased inside and traced a hand along the curve of the dash.
Apparently she was serious. He couldn’t believe this was happening. She’d read about his car and thought it was … amazing?
He hurried around the car and climbed inside.
The faintest trace of a smile touched Valkerie’s lips as she watched him from the passenger seat. “So … let me get this straight. You work on spaceships for a living, and in your spare time you enjoy building cars and robots from spare parts? Is there anything else I should know about?” The smile traveled up her face into her eyes. Was it going to stop there or was she going to start laughing at him?