“But—”
“Period.” She crossed her arms defiantly and gave Grace her most exaggerated glower. Miraculously, it worked.
* * *
Mila’s plan to approach Jerry on the eighteen-mile ride up the coast fizzled when she boarded the bus and found him already seated with Wade Hackett, a payload specialist from San Diego who had flown one shuttle mission to the International Space Station several years earlier. If those two hooked up, that left her by default with Jean-Paul Robillard, from the European Space Agency. Perhaps they’d bond over their European heritage. That was a great plan…except for the fact that he was French and probably wouldn’t give her the time of day.
As they pulled into a large circular drive, she grasped immediately why Jancey had declined quarters in the student dormitory. Anyone who had access to a home like Grace Faraday’s would be crazy to choose a twin bed, a snoring roommate and a communal shower with strangers.
All of that would change in two days when they moved their operations up to the small cluster of buildings four thousand feet below the summit of Mauna Kea. There they’d be paired with their partners for classroom training while materials were transported to the slope for their analog trial.
A graceful woman, small and gray-haired, smiled down at them from the wide porch. Grace Faraday, aptly named. Billionaire space fan. “Welcome! Please come in. Follow your nose down the stairs and out on the patio. Makoa is your bartender and he can’t wait to make you an island delight.”
An island delight probably contained pineapple juice, which didn’t delight Mila at all. “Do you happen to have any German beer?”
“You’re in luck,” he said, producing a Spaten lager.
She didn’t care much for dark beer, but Makoa was smiling with inordinate pride so she felt obligated to drink it.
The pool area was decorated with tiki torches, palms and flowers. On the lawn were four large round tables covered in white linen with elaborate place settings. It wasn’t at all what she’d expected at a luau. In the corner of the lawn, four young men hoisted a large net from the ground. A roasted pig, she realized as its intact head slumped to the side.
At an umbrella table at the far end of the pool, Jancey was engaged in what appeared to be amiable conversation with Sir Charles. Everyone sucked up to Sir Charles and with good reason.
He met Mila’s eye and waved her over. “Please tell me you’re better today. No ill after-effects, I trust.”
His formal British accent was starkly different from Andi’s Texas drawl. Far more animated and authoritative. It was easy to see how he’d charmed so many people into opening their bank accounts to help fulfill his dream.
“I’m fine, thank you. Just a little coughing immediately after the fact. We wouldn’t even have gone to the hospital if Dr. Ito hadn’t insisted.”
Mila smiled at Jancey, noticing at once her very short hair. Normally she preferred a different look. Long wavy hair with lots of body that she could bury her face into. Jancey gave her plenty of reason to think again.
“Mila.” Jancey nodded toward the chair Sir Charles was holding for her.
“Oh, thank you.” She consciously turned away to gaze at the ocean instead of Jancey, acutely aware it was the very first time the woman had used her first name.
Sir Charles continued, “We all were very concerned after yesterday’s incident. Fluttered the dovecotes, it did.”
She had no idea what that meant, but from his admiring smile, he was pleased. “The very best tests are the ones that simulate actual conditions, especially emergencies. That exercise was very challenging, as was the underwater test. I hope never to be in a situation where I’m running low on oxygen, but learning to keep my head may save my life.”
With two red spaniels on her heels, Grace Faraday crossed the patio to their table and extended her hand. Her beauty and regal posture personified radiance. “You must be Mila Todorov. What an adventure you had yesterday!”
Mila stood and took her hand. “Thank you so much for sharing your lovely home with us. I’m honored to be here.”
“You’re so very welcome. We must make time to talk.” She turned to Jancey, who was sipping a glass of white wine. “Jancey, be sure to save me a chair near this young lady.” Then to Sir Charles. “My dear, could I get your opinion on the seating arrangements?”
He and the dogs followed her to the lawn, leaving Mila alone with Jancey.
“I hope Grace is serving poi, don’t you, Mila?” She looked away innocently, her tongue planted firmly in her cheek.
“I’ll have you know it’s good for my bones.”
Major Jancey Beaumont had a lovely smile when she dared to let it show.
“The truth, Todorov. Are you really all right after yesterday? That wasn’t an ordinary training accident. You and Toloti could have been seriously injured…or worse.”
“I’m okay, but Andi didn’t handle it well. She’s all right physically but she decided a mission to Mars wasn’t for her.”
“And you? I bet you came away with a few doubts too.”
Mila shook her head. “Not at all. I’m even more convinced than ever that I’m right for this mission.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake. Forget all that drivel you just laid on Sir Charles. He’s never been up there so he has no idea what it’s like. These tests don’t come close to real emergencies in space. And there aren’t going to be three EMTs waiting outside the door to save your ass.” She took a gulp of wine and turned away, mumbling, “You’re like one of those space cowboys. You had a big thrill and now all of a sudden you think you’re the most qualified one here.”
Taken aback by the harsh tone, Mila considered for a moment whether it might be best to find another place to sit. Instead, she decided to stand her ground. “No, I don’t think that at all. You’re the most qualified and everyone here knows it. The only way I’d be chosen is if I were paired with you. That’s the only way anyone will be chosen.”
She’d tried to keep her voice level and respectful. It was crazy that she’d finally gotten the chance to meet the woman whose photos had decorated her adolescent bedroom, and instead of using the opportunity to say how Jancey had inspired her, she was defending herself against an accusation of hubris.
“Look, Major. When I said I was right for this mission, I meant I was the right person to go with you. You and Marlon Quinn…you’re great together. He’s awesome, and if you go with him, you can count on his expertise, his training and his—for lack of a better word—leadership.” Men always assumed they were in charge. “If you go with me, you’ll be the leader. I promise to learn everything there is to know about the ship and the mission. I’ll train seriously until I can handle every last detail with my eyes closed and one hand tied behind my back. And I’ll give you the authority you deserve, that you’ve earned. You’d be the commander of the mission. I’d support you completely. But I’ll be more than capable to take command if it becomes necessary.”
Jancey’s face had softened a bit from the steely glare that punctuated her accusation. More important, she didn’t push back against Mila’s presumption that the Mars mission required a command structure, or that a partnership between Jancey and Marlon would evolve naturally to him assuming command.
“They’re calling us to dinner,” Jancey said, nodding in the direction of the lawn. “You’re to sit next to Grace.”
In fact, placards were already in place and Mila found herself between Grace and Jancey. Also at the table were Marlon, Jerry, the gay couple, and Svein Helland, the Norwegian physicist who had introduced Mila during their orientation in the lecture hall.
Marlon toyed with the placards before sitting down, swapping his with Mila’s. “I should sit next to you, Jancey. We need to get used to being with each other twenty-four-seven.”
She chuckled and switched them back. “All the more reason to avoid it while we can.”
Grace arrived and prompted everyone to introduce themselves with their name, hom
etown, area of expertise and a single word they’d used to describe their nature. “I’ll start. Grace Faraday, born in San Francisco. I first heard of astronomy back when scientists still believed the sun revolved around the earth, but my real area of expertise is living well. My word is curious.”
She turned to Knut on her left for the next response, meaning Mila would be last. Next was his husband Henrik, followed by Svein.
“Marlon Quinn, Detroit. Mechanical engineering. My word would be…confident.”
Jancey glanced at Mila ever so briefly, as though acknowledging how Marlon’s “confidence” could be construed as a sign he would take over a two-person mission.
“Jerry Huffstetler, Huntsville, Alabama. Navy test pilot. My word is tenacity.” He grinned at the chorus of groans for his too-obvious choice.
“Jancey Beaumont, Charlottesville, Virginia. My expertise is long-term sustainability in space. My word is survivor.”
Mila took note of how she’d worded her expertise, tailored perfectly to the mission. “I’m Mila Todorov. Born in Sofia, Bulgaria. I’m an astronautical engineer who thinks in terms of how we can get the most out of the resources at hand. My word is persistent.”
“My goodness!” Grace proclaimed. “I’d go with any of you tomorrow. Let me make a toast…good luck and Godspeed.”
Servers made the rounds with pork, fried rice with mixed vegetables, and something called pohole salad, which was tomatoes and onions on what looked like clumps of lawn grass. And of course, poi.
“She likes that,” Jancey said to the server, “but she’s too shy to ask for extra.”
Mila quietly endured Grace’s delight and Jancey’s snickering, knowing she’d have to eat every bite to satisfy her hostess. On a trip to Mars, Jancey would likely terrorize her by breeding grub worms and insects for their evening meal, but she was determined to prove her promise—if Jancey commanded it, it would be done.
* * *
No luau was complete without the obligatory parade of half-naked native islanders, most of whom were female, dancing to the rapid beat of tom-toms. Jancey found it exploitive, though Grace insisted it was perfectly acceptable as an honor to Hawaiian culture. Marlon, Jerry and even Sir Charles had moved their chairs as close as possible to the dancers in order to “honor Hawaiian culture.”
Mila stood in the back talking to Jean-Paul Robillard. If she had hopes of persuading him to join her, she was in for disappointment. Frenchmen were notoriously sexist in the workplace. The only way she’d be paired with him—or anyone, probably—was by default, since it was unlikely any of the men would choose her, despite the ingenuity she’d shown the day before.
Jancey watched her break for the house and rushed across the pool deck to catch up. “Leaving so soon?”
“I was looking for a restroom. I find beer to be, how should I say…temporary.”
“I’ll show you.” To put distance between her head and the pounding tom-toms, she bypassed the guest bath on the lower level and led Mila upstairs to the powder room off the foyer. While she waited, she poured out her chi-chi in favor of ice water with fresh lemon.
“Grace Faraday is your friend, I take it,” Mila said when she returned to the kitchen. Her blue and yellow Hawaiian shirt hung loosely from her thin frame, so much so that she appeared the most relaxed of anyone at the luau. “It shows in the way you smile at each other.”
“She’s someone I care about very much…like family. If it weren’t for Grace, I might have disappeared into the desert for good the minute NASA terminated the long-term space program. She’d been brainstorming with Sir Charles for years about a possible mission to Mars and convinced me to bide my time teaching at a university until the opportunity arose.”
She prepared a second glass of ice water and offered it to Mila, who appeared to be in no hurry to return to the party. The granite island in the kitchen became their bar table, a place to anchor them while they talked.
Mila rested her elbows on the counter, causing the neckline of her shirt to drape so low Jancey could see her sports bra. “What do you find so appealing about disappearing into the desert?”
“Are you interviewing me, Todorov? I saw you talking to Robillard. I’m guessing he wasn’t cooperative.”
“He wasn’t. He wants to hook up with Jerry or Wade. Like it or not, one of those three will end up with me as a consolation prize.”
While Jancey respected both Jerry and Wade, she wouldn’t choose to fly with either. Jerry was too sociable for her tastes, always joking about this or that. Wade was the opposite, with the personality of a potato. Still, both of them were preferable to Jean-Paul, who was an unknown entity.
“What do you think, Mila? Will you be able to live and work alongside a man? What if your partner suggests…let’s call them benefits?”
“That sort of thing has never been much of a problem for me. If the men are intelligent, they realize I’m not interested. If they aren’t intelligent, they’re usually intimidated by the fact that I am.”
Jancey had never thought of it quite that way, but it made perfect sense. Men didn’t hit on her either probably for the same reasons.
“But just because I can work with men,” Mila continued, “doesn’t mean I want to. I want to work with you.”
“And I want to go to Mars—more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my whole life. Surely you know what it’s like to have a dream like that. My very best chance to make that come true is to partner with Marlon Quinn. He’s proven he can survive in space long-term.”
“Maybe so, but I’ll make a better partner for you than Marlon Quinn. Far better. I’m certain of it.”
This was not the same timid woman who’d joined her in the cafeteria on their first day. The tests she’d mastered, the challenges she’d conquered, her harrowing escape the day before. All had given her fanatical confidence. Arguably, well-earned. She would make someone an excellent partner.
“You’re going to do great, Mila. But we both need to pair up with one of the men. You know as well as I do the committee will never pick two women for this mission. Look at the bias we face in the science fields. We’re interlopers in the boys’ club.”
“What makes you think the committee will pick two Americans? Half the finalists are from other countries. Sir Charles is British, and all of the Tenacity ships are launching from India. Have you seen the training sites? Germany, China, Russia and the US. And what about our corporate sponsors? The biggest ones are in Germany and Japan. Did I happen to mention that I currently live in Germany?”
Jancey had no answer for that. In fact, it was quite a good point. If two Americans were chosen, the project might lose its global appeal. “I believe they’ll pick the team that’s going to give them the best chance for success, no matter where they’re from. You heard the plan. They’ll send the second group a year after the first. That’s how they’ll keep the other countries engaged. I’m telling you, they won’t pick two women.”
Mila scowled and stared at the floor like a teenager getting a lecture.
“Your own words, Mila. If it’s likely both will fail but there’s a chance one will succeed, there’s only one logical choice.”
“Your logic is flawed because I don’t think it’s at all likely we’ll fail. If you team up with Marlon, I’m sure it will be fine. But if you team up with me, it will be perfect. You and I would do everything better. Everything.”
Voices grew louder as the luau guests ambled upstairs en masse. Jancey ignored them as long as she could, holding Mila’s stare until Marlon called her name.
“Major Beaumont, you’d better enjoy this while you can. I hear the crew quarters on Mauna Kea leave a lot to be desired. I’m calling top rack.”
“See what I mean?” Mila whispered.
Indeed she did.
* * *
Mila passed the open seat beside Wade to sit alone in the back of the bus.
It will be perfect. Of all the pompous, conceited, Toloti-like things she could have
said, why that?
Because it would have been perfect…for her. Had Andi still been in play—annoying, know-it-all Andi who used her hairbrush and razor—Mila would have chosen her over any of the men, even those who weren’t annoying know-it-alls.
How Jancey could choose to live forever with a man instead of a woman who’d practically promised to worship her was difficult to comprehend. The only way it made sense was if Jancey didn’t see her as capable.
Maybe she’d been fooling herself all along. Her test scores were good, but without training, she’d never measure up to any of the NASA astronauts. They were an exclusive club. Loyal and willing to place their lives in each other’s hands. Mila had done nothing to prove herself worthy of that.
Chapter Nine
The residential buildings above the visitors center at Mauna Kea were designed for visiting astronomers who worked at one of the twelve telescopes located at the summit. Situated at nine thousand feet, they allowed staff to “sleep low,” which made it easier for them to handle the higher altitude when they were working above.
That also was why the Tenacity crew, consisting of the finalists and a few of the staff, had moved up from the dormitory at the university. Five days of seminars and sleeping at nine thousand feet would help them acclimate to their analog habitats two thousand feet higher on the eastern slope.
Jancey had toured the facility years ago with Grace, never imagining she would someday stay there.
The four married couples were assigned to the suites in Building B, leaving Building C to Jancey and her group, who hadn’t yet formally chosen their partners.
“Not exactly a seaside palace, is it?” Marlon said as he looked around. A common area with a small kitchen, two bathrooms and four bedrooms.
Tonight, she’d be sharing one of those bedrooms with Marlon. She fully expected it to be awkward but only at first. They both were professionals after all. Male and female astronauts had been sharing close quarters at the International Space Station for years without problems. Privacy was nearly nonexistent there, but everyone sucked it up and did their jobs.
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