by John Olson
The amazing thing was that Bob seemed genuinely interested. He didn’t seem intimidated by her at all. That was something new. Guys usually freaked out when they found out she’d named three new species. But Bob actually liked hearing about her weird, winding path through academia.
“So now you’re moving to Houston,” he said. “From … Florida?”
“Yeah, out of the frying pan.”
“And …” he twisted his napkin around his fingers. “That probably means your guy back in Florida isn’t too happy.”
It wasn’t a very smooth way to probe her social life, but Valkerie didn’t care. It felt good that he’d asked. Really good. “My guy doesn’t live in Florida,” she said.
“Oh, um …” Bob’s eyes put up their phaser shields. “I guess it wasn’t any of my business.”
Valkerie let him squirm while she took a long sip of strawberry lemonade. “I’m going to call my guy tonight as soon as I get back to my hotel. He lives in Grand Rapids in the house I grew up in. He was married to my mom for thirty-one years.”
Bob’s face loosened into a big sloppy grin. “He sounds like a great guy.”
“He’s one of your biggest fans,” Valkerie said. “When he was a little boy, he wanted to be an astronaut. He was glued to the TV when Neil Armstrong stepped on the moon. And he made me watch Apollo 13 about five hundred times when I was a kid. I guess I got my interest in NASA from him.”
The waiter brought the check.
Bob slipped his credit card into it and handed it back right away. “Say, I’ve got an idea, if you’re interested in NASA history and all that.”
“Of course I’m interested.”
“You remember that little bar they showed in The Right Stuff? It’s a real place, and astronauts still hang out there. If you want, we could drop by. I could maybe introduce you to some of the guys. You could meet some of your future teammates.”
Valkerie didn’t remember the place, but that didn’t matter. Bob could have just taken her home. He didn’t want the evening to end either. Bob Kaganovski.
Liquid warmth rose up inside her chest, filling her with tingling excitement. For a minute, she felt so happy, she couldn’t breathe.
“That sounds great,” she said. “What’s the name of the place?”
“The Outpost,” he said. “It’s a little shabby, but I think you’ll like it.”
* * *
Friday, August 24, Year One, 9:00 P.M.
Valkerie
Valkerie slid into the car and leaned across the seat to unlock the door for Bob. He wasn’t at all like she’d thought he’d be. Sure he was good-looking and smart and all that. But the guy was a national celebrity... She’d never expected him to be so approachable. And humble … That was the real shocker. He didn’t know her from Eve and already he was ready to strap on armor and go to battle for her. The whole evening was like a dream.
Bob folded himself into the car and looked over at her with a sloppy grin. “I can’t wait for you to meet Josh. You’re going to love him.”
Valkerie nodded, not quite sure what to say. Bob had been gushing about Josh for the last ten minutes. Apparently Josh and Kennedy were Outpost regulars. She wanted to believe that Bob thought he was doing her a favor. But a nagging piece of her brain kept whispering that he was bored and wanted to hang out with his friends—which didn’t make any sense at all because if he’d wanted to hang out with them, he didn’t have to invite her to tag along. But she couldn’t shut down the thought. Being a fourth wheel on guys’ night out wasn’t her idea of a great time.
“You know …” she said. “It’s getting kind of late. Maybe we should save the Outpost for another time. Want to just go for a walk instead?”
“In Houston?” Bob looked at her like she’d just sprouted antennas.
“Why not? We just ate our body weight in cheesecake. Don’t you think it would be nice to, you know … walk some of it off?”
“Here?” Bob motioned to the sides of the road which were conspicuously lacking sidewalks. “People here don’t walk. It’s like a thousand degrees outside.”
“The sun’s been down for hours. Maybe if we found a nice walking park or …”
The look Bob shot her way seemed to ask what planet she was from.
“… or we could just go to your Outpost,” she added. It would be fine. Bob’s crewmates probably wouldn’t even be there.
“Just a few minutes, okay? If Josh and Kennedy aren’t there, I’ll take you to your hotel room.”
“Great.” Valkerie swallowed back a sigh and looked out the window. A line of dimly lit buildings passed them by. She needed to dial back her expectations or she was going to scare him off. He probably wasn’t even thinking of her that way. He was a nice guy trying to help a newbie out. That was all. He’d never given her any reason to think there was something more.
Besides asking about her boyfriend.
A surge of giddiness threatened to spill over into a smile, but she forced it back down. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to ruin everything.
The car turned right onto a dark side street and pulled off the road. Valkerie looked around the overgrown gravel lot. The only building in sight was a dark wooden shack with no signs or windows.
“Here we are.” Bob’s enthusiasm seemed a little forced.
Valkerie looked up at him nervously.
“I know. It doesn’t look like much on the outside, but believe me, it doesn’t look like much on the inside either.”
Valkerie got out of the car and followed Bob to a small porch at the front of the building. The weathered wood panel door was closed, but the hasp didn’t seem to be padlocked. A thin band of light shone past the ill-fitting door.
Valkerie stopped and listened. “It’s late. I don’t think they’re open.”
“Of course they are. It’s only nine-fifteen.” Bob stepped forward and swept the door open with a metallic squeak.
Valkerie stepped timidly inside and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light beyond. The smell of stale cigarette smoke greeted her, along with the clash of billiard balls. Saloon doors separated the narrow foyer from a dirty, run-down bar. She reached forward to push them open and hesitated. The doors were cut in the shapes of two curvy women wearing padded Naugahyde bikinis. Valkerie drew back with a start, not knowing where to put her hand.
Bob reached around her and pushed open one of the women. “Like I said. The quintessential astronaut hangout. Hasn’t changed much since The Right Stuff, has it?”
She nodded and hung back to let Bob step into the rustic bar first. Hardly anyone was there. A couple of scruffy young guys were playing pool at the dilapidated table on the left side. A guy wearing construction boots and greasy coveralls sat at the bar. No sign at all of Bob’s crewmates. Maybe they could just sit and talk.
Valkerie followed Bob inside, careful not to brush up against anything. The whole place looked as if it were coated with a fine layer of grit.
“Valkerie, you’ll be interested in this.” Bob led her to the right-hand side of the room.
She gaped at an entire wall filled with mission photographs and astronaut memorabilia. Most of them were signed—some by an entire shuttle crew. Valkerie studied the photographs, looking for Apollo-era pictures.
“I’ll be right back.” Bob headed for the bar.
Valkerie studied the pictures. STS 90, STS 110, STS 68—they all seemed to be from the shuttle era. She scanned the rest of the room. It was covered from floor to ceiling with license plates, business cards, pinned-up dollar bills ... but no Apollo photos.
Bob returned carrying two plastic cups brimming with beer. He offered her one.
Valkerie took the flimsy cup and sat down carefully at a small table with her back to the bar. One of those round, fish-eye mirrors hung above the entrance, letting her see the whole room at a glance. The place was so dingy, it hurt. She stared down at the beer, wondering if she should just rip off the bandaid fast and admit to Bob that she di
dn’t really like it. Too many bad memories from freshman year.
“So, what do you think?” Bob said. “Like I said, a little shabby, but plenty of atmosphere.” He glanced uneasily at the tiny cup engulfed in his hand and then back up at her.
She took a look around the room and coughed. “If there was any more atmosphere in here, it would need a warning from the Surgeon General.”
“You’re not allergic, are you?” Bob leaned forward and looked into her eyes. “Sorry about the reek. This is Houston. It comes with the territory. But trust me, this place is going to be thick with astronauts in an hour.”
Valkerie cast a nervous look at the door. What if they didn’t like her? There had been all kinds of astronauts over the years. They ran the gamut from hard-drinking, womanizing Navy pilots to devout, Bible-thumping fundamentalists. But that was then. What about now? Would she fit in here, or would it be like grad school all over again?
“Are you feeling okay?” Bob asked. “I could take you back to your hotel if the smoke is getting to you.”
“No, I’m just a little tired, that’s all.” She sat up straighter and tried to project that air of perky eagerness that guys seemed to like. “I have a question.”
“Okay …” Bob tensed and glanced down at the beer he still held untasted in his hand.
“The other day when Dr. Perez brought me in from the airport, there were a bunch of those protesters by the gate. He called them fundies—”
“Right, born-agains.” Bob’s jaw tightened.
“Um … born-agains?” A sinking feeling settled in her stomach. She wasn’t sure she liked the way he said that. Like they were stupid, one-size-fits-all idiots. Which some of them were, of course, but most of them were sincere, genuinely nice people. Misguided about science perhaps, but nice. And some of them were pretty intelligent. Of course, some of them thought she was going to hell and they’d already picked out her handbasket. All because she didn’t think she had all the answers.
“This is Texas,” Bob said. “You went to school back east, so maybe you haven’t been run over by people who think there’s only one way to … think about God and all that.” He turned his head to look at the beat-up pool table. Blinked several times.
Valkerie started to reach across the table, but stopped herself. “Believe me … I’ve been on the wrong end of a few hit-and-runs myself, but—”
The saloon doors flew open.
Valkerie looked up and froze.
Josh Bennett strode in, looking exactly like he did on TV, larger than life, with an enormous movie star smile. “Hey, Kaggo! What’s happening? Who’s the lucky lady?”
Bob spun around and an eager grin spread across his face. “Hey Josh! Been wondering when you were going to show your ugly face. This is Valkerie Jansen. Perez has been recruiting her hard for the ASCAN class—he asked me to bring her up to speed because she’s coming in late. Valkerie, this is Josh Bennett.”
Valkerie stood up to shake his hand. “Hi, Josh.”
Josh reached out his hand and strafed the length of her body with his eyes. “Glad to meet you … did I get your name right? Valerie?”
“Valkerie. With a K. Long story.”
A willowy Asian woman with long, silky black hair materialized behind Josh. “Hi, Valkerie. I’m Lex. Glad to meet you.”
Valkerie felt her knees turning to spaghetti. Alexis Ohta. The geologist on Bob’s team. The only woman on the crew. “Hi, Lex. I’m … feeling a little overwhelmed right now. I’ve read all about you.”
Lex shook her head. Her hair shimmered in the dim light. “Don’t believe anything you read in the media. Unless it’s about Kennedy. Everything they say about him is true, true, true.”
Josh laughed and looked from Bob to Valkerie and then back to Bob again. “Well, listen, we didn’t mean to intrude. Just wanted to say hi. Lex has a hankering to get destroyed at pool again, so we’ll just … you know, leave you two in peace. Come on, Lex, let’s get something to drink.”
Valkerie sat down and watched Josh and Lex in the mirror as they backpedaled to the bar. Lex’s comment about Kennedy Hampton was unsettling. She’d heard the gossip, but had always assumed the rumors were just the usual macho Navy pilot clichés.
Bob’s face had gone bright red. “They like you,” he said.
“Really?” she said. “How can you tell? I keep … worrying that I won’t fit in here.”
“I know them. They like you.”
Valkerie didn’t know quite how to interpret that. It was obvious Josh liked what he saw, but that didn’t mean anything. It was just … typical guy. He and Lex didn’t know anything about her. For that matter Bob didn’t know anything about her either—not the parts that mattered. They’d been talking shop for hours. Every time she tried to get below the surface, he always managed to deflect the conversation back to work.
“Are you okay?” Bob said. “Really, if you want to go back to your hotel, I can take you.”
“I’m fine.” Valkerie shook her head. “Can I ask you a question?”
“You just did.” He smiled and glanced down at the full cup of beer sitting in a pool of condensation on the table. “Just kidding. What’s your question?”
“When you said earlier that you wouldn’t burn Galileo at the stake, what did you mean by that?”
He looked at her, searching her eyes for what seemed like a full minute. “Look … I know what the tabloids say, but they’ve got me all wrong. I mean … I’m a scientist, first and foremost. I observe the world and report what I see. Period. End of statement. Religion has no place in science. It only messes things up. Science has to go where science has to go, and religious … people don’t have any right to go butting in on that.”
Valkerie’s heart sank. She didn’t have a clue what the tabloids said, but that crack about religion having no place in science made Bob’s position perfectly clear. He thought Christians, no matter how good they were, didn’t belong in science.
“I mean, nothing against born-agains,” Bob continued, “but they can’t tell us how to do physics and biology, right? I’m sure you hate that, when they tell you there’s a right and wrong way to think—as if you’re somehow evil because you insist on having data before ruling out a theory? Or when they look down on you for having the intellectual integrity to report results accurately rather than skewing the data to fit their biases?”
Valkerie’s face burned like she’d been slapped. She did hate that. She’d been fighting it for years. She’d even quit going to church for a while when the preacher kept using the word “scientist” as a synonym for “atheist.” But every time Bob said “born-again,” a jarring note of resentment crept into his voice. Like being born again was the moral equivalent of being a child molester. That hurt. Being born again was what got Mom off alcohol when AA wasn’t working for her. Just because she believed in God, it didn’t mean that—
“If they’d just leave us alone, I’d be good with leaving them alone,” Bob said. “But they’re never going to do that, and … sorry. I get steamed about this, and maybe it’s not a big deal to you.”
Valkerie sighed and closed her eyes, rubbing her fingers against her eyelids. The smoke was giving her a headache, and she was getting the sickening feeling that she wasn’t wanted here, that she was misleading Bob, that he’d be furious when he found out she was a fraud. She didn’t want to mislead anyone. She just wanted to be who she was, without getting whacked from both sides.
She cracked her eyes and peered at Bob.
He was looking past her toward the pool table, an unreadable expression on his face.
She looked over his shoulder up at the mirror.
Lex was lining up a shot. Josh stood behind her grinning broadly at Bob and giving him two thumbs up.
Valkerie felt sick to her stomach. She didn’t belong here. If she didn’t come clean now, it would only make things harder. She had to put all her cards on the table. Now.
She shook her head and looked up reluctantly a
t Bob. Might as well get it over with. “Bob, there’s something I need to tell you. Promise you’ll listen to me before freaking out?”
“I’m good at not freaking out. Growing up in Chicago, I had lots of practice.”
She took a deep breath and let it out. “Would it shock you horribly to know that I … believe in God?”
Bob’s eyes went wide. Astonishment. Confusion. Something else she couldn’t quite parse. “Really?” His voice cracked. “Me too!”
“I don’t mean belief in some theoretical God. I mean … I’m a … Christian.” There. She’d said it. The C-word. The word most likely to get you crucified in academia. And the weird thing was that she wasn’t even sure if the word applied.
“Really? Me too!” Bob reached out and rested a large hand on her arm. “I can’t believe how much we have in common.”
Valkerie searched his expression. What was that supposed to mean? He’d just made it abundantly clear what he thought of Christians when he thought she wasn’t one. Now he was switching sides?
Bob’s hand tightened around her arm. “Are you okay? Want me to take you to your hotel?”
She felt a tug on her arm. He was pulling her slowly toward him.
An alarm went off inside her head. That was the third time he’d asked about taking her to the hotel. Was that what this was all about? He was telling her what she wanted to hear—just to get her back to her room? If so, she’d misjudged him. Massively, totally misjudged him.
Maybe nothing he’d said all evening was true. Maybe she couldn’t trust a single word. Maybe Bob was a Kennedy in geek’s clothing. A man on a mission—and she was the mission.
“No, I’m not okay,” Valkerie said. “Let’s just say I’m one of those dreaded born-agains and leave it at that. Apparently that makes me poison. All I know is that I’m tired and I have a headache and I think it’s time to go.”
Bob stood up. One look at his face told Valkerie everything she needed to know.