T-Minus Two

by K. G. MacGregor

  She scooted across the chamber and took Jancey’s hand. As usual, it was warm, even a bit damp from perspiration. She raised it to her lips and gently kissed the knuckles before bringing the palm to her cheek.

  “No use fighting it.”

  “For your information, I’m not fighting it,” Jancey said, this time seriously. “What I’m fighting is you telling me how I feel. If and when the day comes when my feelings are so strong I can’t keep them to myself anymore, I want to be the one to say so. In fact, I think I’d enjoy that. But not if your reaction is to say you already knew.”

  This time, there was no teasing in her voice, and Mila regretted pushing too far. “You’re right…everything you just said. I’m sorry.” She unleashed a new flurry of kisses on Jancey’s hand. “Forgive me.”

  Jancey didn’t answer at all, instead freeing her hand and scooting sideways until she was out of reach.

  * * *

  There was something far more irritating than a cocky Mila—a brooding Mila. For the last fifteen hours, she’d kept mostly to herself, dozing or staring out the small window. Either she was feeling chastised and afraid to rock the boat, or she was sulking.

  By Jancey’s watch—which provided the only light in their chamber, but only when she pressed the button—it was nearly midnight. Normally they’d be asleep by now, but napping off and on throughout the day had screwed up their sleep schedule.

  Whatever was going on with Mila, it had dragged on long enough. The inflated sense of confidence she’d displayed earlier had been off-putting, but it didn’t deserve the doghouse. Besides, she’d already apologized.

  “Talk to me, Mila. What’s the first thing you’ll do when this analog is over?”

  “Take a very hot shower, wash my hair, shave my legs. What about you? No, let me guess…you’ll go somewhere to get as far away from me as you can.”

  Jancey bit her tongue to keep from pointing out that Mila was doing it again, scripting her every thought. “Funny you’d say that…I’d swear it wasn’t all that long ago you were pretty sure I was secretly in love with you.”

  Mila huffed. “Obviously I was wrong. I think too much of myself sometimes.”

  “And now you’re pouting.”

  “I’m not pouting. I’m trying not to be annoying. When I don’t know what to say, it’s usually best not to say anything.”

  “Also known as walking on eggshells,” Jancey said. “You don’t have to do that around me. We talked about this weeks ago, remember? We’re going to have disagreements every now and then. It’s perfectly normal. What matters is how we respond to them, how we treat each other. I don’t want you shrinking into a cocoon because you’re afraid to talk.”

  After a long moment of silence, Mila said, “You can’t see me nodding in the dark. I get what you’re saying. But I still feel bad about today, like I disrespected you. I can’t help it.”

  “Forget about it. I already did.” Not actually true. It had stayed with her because of a surprising realization. “Did you ever hear that saying about the definition of insanity?”

  “You mean doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results?”

  “Exactly. All my relationships were like that. I’d meet someone and put myself out there a little at a time. I took, I gave, I took some more. All the while knowing the whole thing would come crashing down when it was time for me to chase that one thing I really want.” Those were Monica’s words. Lindsay’s words. Jill’s words. “It’s different this time.”

  “Because I’m chasing the same thing as you?”

  “Yes, and because everything we do is an investment. We have to work through all of it together when we’re playing for keeps.”

  “I agree.” Her face was a silhouette as she peered out into the night. “What is it you want me to do?”

  “I want you to relax,” Jancey said. “I’m not Frederica. I’m not holding back to be cruel to you. You can trust me.”

  Mila sighed and scooted close enough to draw her into an embrace. “I do…and I needed to hear that. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She planted a kiss on her nose. “Do you want to join me at Grace Faraday’s house when we get done? Now that the students are back, there won’t be any rooms at the university. And I have no intention of moving into a hotel, not when I have the world’s greatest guest house and a Jaguar convertible at my disposal. Besides, it might be good to show everyone we aren’t in any hurry to get away from each other.”

  Another extended silence.

  “Mila?”

  “Sorry…I’d love to. As long as it’s okay with Grace.” There was a welcome excitement in her voice.

  “It will be. She also has a guest room in the main house if you want your own space for a while.”

  “I don’t need space from you, Jancey.”

  “We all need space sometimes. It’s not a reflection on you, but I’ll tell you something that is.” She spun around and lay her head in Mila’s lap. “I don’t feel the urge to keep parts of my life separate from yours. That’s a brand-new feeling for me.”

  Mila stroked her shoulders with cool hands that penetrated her thin T-shirt. Calming.

  “When I say I need space,” Jancey went on, “it’s to spend some time in my head, not to get away from you. I can do that when you’re with me as long as I have quiet.”

  “I understand.”

  “But what’s really amazing to me—and this has never happened before—is that I don’t want you to go very far.” She covered one of Mila’s hands with hers. “I want you close enough that I can pull you back when I need you…or close enough that I can get to you when you need me. You have no idea what a big deal that is for me.”

  Mila inhaled sharply and leaned forward so her hands slid across Jancey’s stomach. “It gives me chill bumps to hear you say that. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

  Jancey guided the cool hands under her elastic waistband. Perhaps Mila had just learned the value of waiting for her to put her feelings into words.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Thirty-nine.”

  “Forty,” Mila grunted as she lunged to her left to bat the makeshift ball back to Jancey. Four socks rolled up in duct tape, their improvised volleyball.

  “Forty-one.”

  It sailed out of reach before she could right herself. “Crap. We’ll never make it to fifty.”

  “Depends on how much longer they leave us stranded here,” Jancey said, her voice flat from boredom. “I can’t believe we’re still here.”

  “Maybe it’s not a drill. Earth actually got hit with a real Super X and half the planet’s power grid is down.”

  Six days had passed since the onset of the “solar storm.” Two days beyond what should have been the end of their analog. With the help of their precooked dinners, they’d been able to stretch their water supply. It would shrink faster now since all they had left were dry protein bars and powders. And less than two liters of water between them. They’d be lucky to last two more days before having to drink their filtered urine. Only if I’m about to die, she’d said, opening herself to Jancey’s mocking and scorn.

  There were worse things than being confined in a space of less than four cubic meters with the woman she loved. Still…their chamber became unpleasant after two days, disgusting after four, and bordered now on hazardous. A lightning strike might launch a new life form.

  “I’m not sure which is harder,” Mila said. “The tedium of being stuck here another day or the agony of having to wait even longer to find out who’s first to go on Tenacity. We should have known that by now.”

  “I don’t think they’ll know right away. Mark my word, the first person we’ll see when we step off the bus is Danielle Zion. She’s going to put us through the whole battery of tests to see how we held up.”

  The mere mention of Zion sent both of them into exercise routines that included sit-ups, push-ups, planks and bicycle kicks.

  Mila’s voice crack
ed as she held her plank with one bent arm. “I bet they’ve already picked the first team. Probably the second too, because they didn’t all agree on the first one and second was the consolation prize. The real contest now is for third and fourth.”

  “Maybe…but we’ll still have more hoops to jump through. Calloway’s probably going to drill down into our darkest places to find out how we got along.”

  “What are you going to tell them?”

  Jancey stopped her sit-ups and touched Mila’s hip with just enough force to tip her over. “That I think you’re the perfect partner. That my impressions of you during this trial make me feel even more committed to work together.”

  “Your impressions of me? You make me sound like your student.” She wanted Jancey to publicly acknowledge her—something Frederica had never done. “Are you worried somebody on the committee will freak out about sending two lesbians into space?”

  “The thought had crossed my mind,” she said, her tone heavy with sarcasm. “When we walk out of here, anyone with half a brain will figure it out, but that doesn’t mean we should acknowledge anything. I don’t see an upside to sharing our feelings publicly. How will the Russians feel when we go there to train? Or the Chinese? What if they pull their support?”

  A real possibility, Mila conceded.

  “Look, Mila…I don’t want to hide it—I got my fill of that in the air force—but I don’t want us to throw our chances away.”

  “So we do what? Pretend we’re friends?”

  “We don’t have to pretend that. We are friends.” Jancey straddled her and leaned down for a kiss. “Trust me, the people who matter will know. I won’t be able to hide that I’m proud of you.”

  Jancey was right about one thing—words like those were far sweeter when they came without prodding.

  She stared up into green eyes that glinted from the light coming through their porthole. So beautiful…her emotions overflowed. “I love you, Jancey.”

  “I know you do.” Her half-smile was confident, lively. “I feel it from you, and if I’m honest with myself—”

  The comm suddenly beeped, its first sound in six days. Both of them scrambled across the chamber to read the message.

  “Simulation concluded. Prepare for evacuation.”

  * * *

  Carrying a backpack that held her clarinet case and tablet computer, Jancey strode alongside Mila to the edge of the dirt road, where the bus was making periodic stops to pick up the teams. She held a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. It was the first time she’d been outside in weeks without her helmet, which had tinted glass.

  The bus bypassed the hut on the other side of the Fagans.

  “Whoa! Did you see that?” Mila exclaimed.

  “Jerry and Wade. Looks like they never made it back after the water episode.” Unlike Kamal and David. It was shocking that a pair of NASA astronauts would fail to complete a six-week analog that required so little.

  “They looked pretty sick when they left. Must have hit them hard.”

  “That’s very bad news,” Jancey said. Water contaminated with E. coli was known to cause irreversible kidney damage. She wouldn’t wish that on anyone, even if it meant one less competitor.

  The Fagans were next to board. Brandon’s beard was bushy and dark, clearly visible from a hundred yards away. Even more noticeable was his arm around Libby’s shoulder. They were exactly the sort of team Sir Charles envisioned for the Tenacity Project—a competent pair who supported one another.

  She’d expected the Fagans to earn a slot on the launch schedule. If they’d performed well on the analog, they were sure to get serious consideration for the top prize.

  As they took a step toward the bus, she caught Mila’s arm. “Sit beside me on the bus.”

  “It never occurred to me not to.”

  When they stepped aboard, her suspicions were confirmed. Only the Fagans and the Hatsus were sitting together. The others had spread out as if relieved at the chance to get space from their partner, including the Norwegian couple.

  Marlon also sported a beard, but his looked as though it had been scissored without benefit of a mirror. His jaw set firmly, he stood and stretched out a hand as she walked by. “Good to see you, Major.”

  “You too.”

  As she took his hand, he tugged her closer and whispered, “I thought about you every day.”

  She chuckled to herself as she continued toward the rear of the bus, casting a glance at Jean-Paul, who had slumped in his seat and pulled a cap over his eyes. The last six days in their sleeping chamber must have been pure hell.

  As she took a window seat, Mila relieved her of the bags and stowed them in the shallow bin above them along with her own. In a low voice, she said, “I see what you mean about sitting together. These people don’t seem to like each other.”

  The Clarkes were the last to board and there was no mistaking the acrimony between them. Courtney Clarke tossed her armload into the window seat and sat on the aisle as her husband Phillip pushed past her to sit four rows behind.

  Jancey suppressed a smile. If anyone on the committee was here and taking notes, the Clarkes were history. Another competitor gone.

  The bus rode past the residence buildings near the visitor center and continued down the slope to University Research Park in Hilo. The Tenacity Project had built its sprawling two-story headquarters among the academic facilities for the twelve telescopes atop Mauna Kea. Tenacity Centre, Grace had called it. It was constructed in the traditional Hawaiian style, and painted the color of rust. Like the Red Planet, she said. Horizontal planks with shuttered windows that jutted out from the bottom. A gently sloping roof that extended out to cool the air close to the building.

  “Definitely looks like we’re done with the university,” Mila said.

  “I guess we don’t need so much space now that there aren’t many of us left.”

  The driver parked and stood to face them. “Leave your personal belongings on the bus. They’ll be inventoried and returned to you inside.”

  Inventoried. They probably were checking for contraband, something prohibited, like a personal cell phone or food wrappers. Staff assistants were still on the mountain making a list of leftover supplies and waste in each habitat.

  The building had a “new” smell. Fresh paint, carpet, varnish. They filed in and were led to the fitness center in the basement where none other than Danielle Zion was waiting.

  “Told you so,” Jancey whispered.

  “Drop your gear. Shoes off. Let’s see how many of you got fat and lazy.”

  Fat and lazy wasn’t the problem in space. Given the monotony of the rations and the loss of appetite that came from being weightless, most astronauts lost weight and muscle mass regardless of how much they ate or worked out. High altitude would likely have the same effect, especially given the repetitive food choices.

  Mila was first to step on the scale. One-thirty. Not much for someone five-seven, but only a pound lighter than before the analog. She flashed Jancey a thumbs-up.

  Jancey dreaded her weigh-in. She could tell from the way her flight suit hung from her shoulders that she’d lost a few pounds, despite her conscious efforts to eat more than she wanted, especially over the last few days when they’d been confined.

  “Pockets empty, Beaumont?”

  “Now that would have been a great idea.” She slapped her thighs and stepped up.

  “One-twenty-five, down three.”

  Not as bad as she’d expected, and not nearly as bad as Courtney Clarke. She’d dropped nine pounds, and Libby Fagan had lost four. Suki Hatsu, like Mila, was down only one.

  The men fared far worse, most of them losing more than ten pounds. Brandon Fagan, however, surprised everyone with a two-pound gain. Impressive.

  As a team, she and Mila were second only to the Fagans in maintaining their weight. Their advantage, however, was being able to do so on less food and water, and with very little waste. Even a small amount of savings over six week
s would substantially impact the size of their three-year supply, which was the minimum they had to carry on their vessel.

  “That’s it,” Zion said. “We’ll run through the fitness test tomorrow morning. Right now, there’s a brown bag lunch waiting for you on the lower level in the conference room. If anyone’s interested in grabbing a shower first, you’ll find fresh clothing in the locker rooms, which are located through that…”

  Jancey didn’t stick around for the rest of her instructions. She could practically smell the soap and water.

  * * *

  Mila didn’t dare tell anyone how much she appreciated the lush foliage in the courtyard behind Tenacity Centre. Though she’d lived most of her life amidst urban concrete, she enjoyed parks and gardens more than she’d realized. The bleak landscape of Mauna Kea had left her sensory deprived, something she’d have to reconcile in preparation for Mars. Nothing but rust-colored rocky terrain, all of it framed from inside the tinted glass of her helmet. In fact, once they launched, the only green she’d see for the rest of her life would be in the hydroponics garden.

  And in Jancey’s eyes.

  The conference room looked out on the courtyard, so she could enjoy the greenery while they debriefed. Several tables had been arranged in a large rectangle, and she sat beside Jancey directly opposite the podium.

  Dr. Calloway, who reminded everyone to call him Cal, passed around several documents until everyone had a neat stack. He held up one for display. “The first form you’re asked to sign is the Compliance Agreement. Read and initial each line, then sign your name at the bottom and pass them back to me.”

  One by one, Mila checked off the items on the list. No, she hadn’t taken any prohibited materials to the habitat. No, she hadn’t communicated with anyone other than Mission Control. Yes, her reported logs were accurate. Yes, she’d worn her spacesuit each time she left the habitat. Yes, she’d remained inside the sleeping chamber during the entirety of each solar storm.