“Better get used to cold food. Our stove’s off-limits as long as it’s overcast. Something tells me we’ll be drinking a lot of shakes over the next couple of days.”
She stepped on the stair climber and began marching.
“Do you ever take a day off?” Mila asked.
“No.”
“Not ever?”
“Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you about it because then you’d want a day off too. You can’t have a day off.”
Not long ago she’d have said that sharply, a stern warning not to slack off. After watching Mila work, it was no longer a concern. She performed all of her duties without complaint and even looked for more to do.
“Trust me, Todorov. When we get to space, the last thing you’ll want is a day off. That’s the whole reason we’re doing this analog—to make sure we can handle hours on end with absolutely nothing to do.” She’d had very few long stretches of downtime on her solo mission, but even a few hours with nothing to do left her listless. “The real question is whether or not you can manage to stay alert when you’re bored out of your mind.”
Mila snorted as though jarring herself awake. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”
“Smartass. I was going to offer to do the walk-around, but now you can forget it.”
“You were not. You never do the walk-around in the morning.”
“And now I never will.”
It relaxed her to trade barbs with Mila. Not only did it break up the all-business dynamic of their partnership, it relieved the pressure she’d put on herself after realizing Mila viewed her as infallible. No one could live up to that sort of idealized vision. Joking around took it down a notch. There was an undercurrent of mutual respect with Mila she’d found difficult to sustain with men. Men wilted under criticism, even if it was delivered with a dose of humor. They acted wounded or henpecked, or their competitive nature kicked in and they escalated the barbs to the point of viciousness. Mila held her own and seemed to know right where it needed to stop.
“Someday you’re going to beg me to let you do the walk-around, and I’m going to mock you.” Mila held up a plastic bag filled with clothes and water. “I washed a few things. Except now I’m going to take yours outside and rub them in the dirt.”
Chapter Thirteen
Mila couldn’t deny she felt better. The zolpidem had kicked in within fifteen minutes and knocked her out cold. When she awakened at half past eleven, she was rested and alert. It was stupid to have resisted so long.
She slowed the pace of her workout to drag out an extra hour, and then caught up on all the laundry. Now she was left with nothing to do, nothing to read, nothing to see in the dark. Jancey wasn’t due to get up for another three hours.
After three days of rain, they were squeezing the last of their electricity from the third power pack. Everything had been shut down except the comm, which they kept on standby only for incoming messages. No grow lights, no cell phones except when one of them went outside, no headlamps, no e-readers. They’d kept their logs by hand, scribbling in the margins of the handbook, as that was the only paper in their hut.
The good news was the rain had stopped sometime around two, and by four, she could see stars through the porthole. If the sun cooperated just for two days, they’d have their power packs back at max. Hot food. Jasmine tea. Something to read to while away eight hours alone in the dark.
She had gained a new appreciation for Jancey’s thirteen-month solo mission. It was nothing like this, Jancey had explained. Not once had her power supply dwindled, and though her water was rationed, she’d never worried about running out. Her communications with Mission Control were so frequent and extended, it was a relief to be left alone.
A sound outside caught her attention. Crunching gravel. Slow, deliberate steps meant to conceal the presence of someone approaching their habitat. Another “emergency” in the offing, courtesy of the staff. Dr. V had promised to keep them on their toes with repairs, something they’d have to do regularly on Mars. That was why Mila and Jancey took turns three times a day conducting an inspection around the outside of the habitat, during which they adjusted the solar panels for maximum absorption. So far it was only “broken tiles” and a loosened wire on the south-facing communication dish that kept them in contact with Mission Control.
This time, it sounded as though someone was climbing the rungs on the side of their dome, probably to inflict damage to their solar panels. That was cruel, considering they’d just suffered through three days of rain.
Careful not to make a sound, she crawled to the porthole and looked outside. The figure stepped down from the ladder and walked quietly away in the direction of the Fagans’ hut. A man, judging by his height, and dressed in dark clothing. He disappeared into the darkness thirty meters away.
Mila laughed to herself to recognize yet another advantage she and Jancey shared with the other non-married teams. The couples were likely to be sleeping at the same time. They wouldn’t have heard the staff screwing around with their solar panels, and if they weren’t vigilant, they could lose a whole day of recharging. If the rain returned tomorrow, such a lapse could mean the difference between success and failure.
“I think I heard Santa Claus on our roof,” Jancey mumbled from inside the compartment.
“I know. I bet they screwed around with the solar panels. By the time you get up, I’ll be ready to go out and see what they did. Now go back to sleep.”
She complied, or so it seemed, until she started stirring again forty minutes later at first light. “I’m getting up so you can go fix the panels. We need those two extra hours to charge.”
Mila began the methodical process of getting into her spacesuit. She had everything on but the helmet before Jancey tumbled past her to her lavatory. “Good morning.” No response, so she continued the conversation on her own. “Good morning to you too, Mila. Don’t you look dashing in your spacesuit! Why, thank you, Jancey. You look dashing when you’re dashing.”
A minute passed and Jancey emerged from behind the curtain, glaring at her with undisguised scorn. “This is the best I can do without coffee. If you get our power grid up and working again, I promise to say something civil.”
After snapping her helmet in place, she exited the hatch to inspect the damage. It took only a glance to diagnose the problem. One of their panels was missing, though the other three appeared to be intact. With their capacity to generate power now down by a quarter, it would take longer to fully charge their power packs. They’d have to cut back on their typical usage to stay ahead. Communications and grow lights were priorities. Everything else—cooking, reading, headlamps—would have to be rationed.
Bastards. Clearly they wanted to test their ability to entertain themselves without going mad.
Before climbing up to the panels, she conducted her usual walk-around, meticulously inspecting the condition of their exterior tiles and water supply, all the while keeping an eye out for the stray panel in case it had been discarded. No such luck.
She climbed atop the dome and confirmed the remaining connections were still in working order. With a simple twist of a wing nut, she aimed the three remaining panels toward the morning sun.
From her perch atop their dome, she could see all seven of the habitats though only the closest three were clearly visible. She did a double-take to notice none were missing panels. Not the Clarkes, the Fagans, nor Jerry and David. It didn’t seem right the committee would single out only one team for a hardship.
The phone crackled through her earpiece. “Solar flare in three minutes. Get in here now. Do you copy?”
“Copy.”
Bastards.
As quickly as she could, she backed down the ladder, and tumbled through the hatch as her cumbersome feet became entangled. She’d already lost almost a minute and had yet to get undressed.
Jancey was hurriedly stowing equipment and supplies inside the sleeping chamber. “I’ve got your clothes. Hit the head and get your as
s inside.”
Leaving pieces of her spacesuit strewn all over the hut, Mila rushed into the lavatory.
“Forty seconds!”
“Don’t rush me!” She didn’t bother to recycle, not with the clock ticking down. Out of breath and dripping with sweat, she climbed into the chamber and latched the door behind her.
Jancey fired off her message confirming they were secure inside the radiation shelter. “That might be the most realistic test we’ve had so far. Three minutes is probably all the warning we’ll get for a solar flare. We’re going to have to do better than that.”
Mila stacked her clothes, toiletries and water jug against one end of the chamber and covered them with her pillow. A makeshift lounge chair. “How do we beat it? Besides the obvious, that is. I don’t expect to be walking around outside on the way to Mars.”
“Let’s hope not.”
She relayed the news about the missing solar panel, not that it mattered at the moment. A solar flare could knock out electronics, so they’d shut down everything but communications just to be on the safe side. “I think we were the only ones who lost one. Why would they single us out?”
“Hmm…could be they’re hitting everyone in a vulnerable area. It wouldn’t surprise me if they shorted everyone else on their water ration.” Jancey was still dressed in the thermal underwear she’d slept in, and it hugged every rise and curve on her body.
“I wonder how the men will handle being cooped up for the solar flare,” Mila mused as she tried not to stare. “For that matter, I wonder how many of them are actually where they’re supposed to be right now. It’s not as if the staff are coming by to do a bed check.”
“You never know. They sneak around and do everything else.” Jancey peeked out the small porthole, which looked up toward the summit. No view of the other habitats, nor of the access road. “My guess is they’re all sitting in bed just like we are, backs against the wall and facing each other. But yeah, they’re probably more anxious about it than we are.”
“You’re okay then?”
“Sure, why not?”
Mila shrugged. “I just wondered if it bothered you being stuck in here with me. I know you’d rather be by yourself like you were on Guardian.”
“I didn’t mind being by myself. In fact, at that particular time in my life, it was a pretty good idea. I was so focused on getting into space, I wasn’t of much use to the people around me.”
“What about now? Do you ever wish Tenacity was a solo mission?”
“I might have at one point,” she said. The accompanying sheepish look made it sound like a confession. “I’d rather go to Mars by myself than be stuck with someone who made me uncomfortable. I don’t feel that way around you. Don’t let this go to your head, okay? There are a lot of things I like about you. You’re smart and you work hard. You pay attention to details and study everything before you do it. That’s impressive considering you haven’t been through astronaut training. I also like that you don’t play around when it comes to your work, but at the same time, you aren’t a robot either. I feel good about you and me as a team. Grace told me I would, but she had other motives.”
“Grace? Grace Faraday?” Mila could no more stop Jancey’s compliment from going to her head than she could stop the sunset. “What kind of motives did she have?”
Jancey chuckled softly and shook her head.
“Don’t even think about not answering. You’re the one who started this.”
“Let’s just say she was playing matchmaker. No way was she going to let me go with Marlon, not when there was a woman available. A capable woman, I might add.”
“A capable lesbian,” Mila clarified, watching closely for a reaction. “Just like you.”
No reaction at all, unless she counted avoidance. Jancey never even looked up as she replied, “A lesbian who is much, much younger.”
“Age is irrelevant to me. No, that isn’t true. It’s actually quite important because I prefer older women. You’re…forty-three, right?” It was a silly question to ask. She knew Jancey’s birthday as well as her own. “My former girlfriend is now forty-eight. That’s a twenty-one-year difference.”
“Hunh. That strikes me as quite a lot.”
“My mother would agree. Frederica is her colleague in the philosophy department at Humboldt.”
“Awkward.”
“Tell me about it. It took two years of pleading and professing my undying love before Frederica would even let me kiss her. And then another two years before she let me touch her. I nearly died of old age.”
“I have to hand it to you, Mila. That’s persistence. I can’t believe you waited that long.”
“I had no choice. She was perfect.” The old perfect. The new perfect was sitting across from her.
“Where is this piece of perfection now?”
Mila shuddered. “Probably doing disgusting things with some man she met only this morning. I try not to think about it.”
“One of those.” Jancey made a face as if remembering her own tale of being on the losing end of someone else’s gender identity search. “You have my sympathy.”
“It’s done. It’s over.” She would never again feel longing for Frederica. Her future was going to Mars with Jancey. “Besides, I have a new idea of perfection now, Major Beaumont.”
* * *
Jancey could hardly pretend to be surprised with where the conversation had gone. She’d practically pushed it there. “Perfection? Please.”
“I’m just telling you how I see it.” Mila stared at her unabashedly, her mouth turned up in apparent appreciation. “All those things you said about me…I do those things because you are my partner, because you deserve the best. And remember, I promised never to let you down.”
“In other words, all the things I just said I like about you aren’t really you at all. You’re pretending to be someone else just to impress me.”
“I never said that. But I’ve become the person I am by striving toward an ideal. Like it or not, you’ve always represented many things about that ideal. Ever since I was thirteen years old and watched the sky through my telescope to see you go by in orbit.”
Years ago, Jancey had relished her chance to be a role model who could excite girls about the STEM fields. But other than Grace and Lana, she’d never confronted its impact on such a personal level. “That’s a lot of pressure, you know. I’m far from perfect. I make mistakes like everyone else. The difference is my science training has taught me to keep trying until I find the right answer. It’s not good for you to be a lemming and follow me off the cliff.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. I have science training too. What I plan to follow is your example. Scientists don’t always end up in the same place, but the good ones can always tell you exactly how they got there.” Mila shivered in her shorts and T-shirt and pulled the blanket up around her shoulders. “What would you have me do differently?”
One part curiosity, the other part challenge. Many of Mila’s questions were like that, yet she genuinely seemed to want an answer. “Nothing, of course.”
At the same time, Jancey had the feeling they both were dancing around their true motives. The hero worship flattered her, but it felt like something more personal. That flattered her too. She couldn’t let it come to anything, no matter how intriguing. Not now. Probably not until they got to Mars and found themselves together forever. By then she’d be Frederica’s age.
But definitely not now.
“Keep doing what you’re doing, Mila. Just don’t forget you’re here as a partner. You’re as responsible for our success as I am. Speak up when you think you have a better idea. Keep your head. Don’t lose focus on why we’re here.”
“Understood.” Mila stretched forward and pulled the blanket over Jancey’s bare feet. Then she pulled them into her lap and warmed them with a massage.
Nice. Both casual and intimate. And proof that Mila didn’t understand at all.
* * *
&n
bsp; “…and even though I worked at NASA, I was still in the air force. Those were the days when being gay resulted in a dishonorable discharge, even if you happened to hold the American record for consecutive days in space.”
“But they didn’t kick you out.” After two hours of strategizing how they’d handle another day with a dwindling power supply, Mila had managed to steer the conversation back to their past relationships. The thrill of getting to know Jancey more intimately was irresistible. It made no sense at all that she was single, not when she could have had her pick among all the women in the world.
“Because they never initiated an investigation. They weren’t going to discharge a national hero.”
“World hero.”
“Whatever. I wasn’t outed until after the mission, and Monica was long gone by then. No one asked, and I didn’t tell. It didn’t matter anyway as long as I was assigned to NASA.”
“I’m glad you were outed. Gay kids need to see what’s possible. Even in Europe, most of the focus is on the flamboyant.”
“I didn’t mind it so much when it was just The Advocate, but then the tabloids picked it up and turned it into a shocking scandal in sixty-point type. One of the grocery store rags even had me in an affair with an alien.”
Mila laughed and nodded along. She was too embarrassed to admit she’d saved those clippings too. “You have to admit, it made you a household name. Most people weren’t ever going to read about you in a science magazine or an actual newspaper.”
Jancey huffed. “I guess that’s right. You can charge more in speaking fees if they think you’ve had sex with ET.”
“Did you have a girlfriend after Monica?”
“Not for a while. I laid low for the next four years until NASA killed the long-term space program. Then I left the air force for a teaching post at Harvard. Or as they say it, Hahvahd. That’s where I met Lindsay. She taught public policy at the JFK School of Government, and they had me in as a guest on a panel about science agencies. We tangled right off the bat when she accused NASA of wasting billions of taxpayer dollars with nothing to show for it.”
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