Sex on the Moon (5 page)

7

The object was bright red and coming in fast—following a low, elliptical trajectory, spiraling as it went, spewing off droplets of clear, pearl-shaped liquid, like a comet tail painting its route through the electrically charged air. The speed of the thing was terrifying, and Thad had only a moment to get one hand up in front of his face—but it did him no good. The object went right past his fingers and collided square into his forehead. The impact knocked him back off his feet as a spray of ice-cold water exploded into his face.

“Skylab, baby! That’s what happens when you’ve got a low orbit and too much gravity!”

Thad shook the water out of his eyes as he fought to regain his footing in the shallow end of the pool. Helms was standing about ten feet away, crouching behind a pair of deck chairs, a second water balloon in his cocked right hand. There were girls sprawled across both deck chairs, pretty and blond and wearing bikinis. The one on the right was the same girl Thad had met in line outside of the Teague Auditorium—Sally Bishop, of the boyfriend who still hadn’t shown up, but was presumably on his way. The girl to Bishop’s left was equally blond, but average height; there was something a little more natural and soft about the way her body filled out her flower-patterned bikini. A sunburst of freckles trickled out across the bare skin of her shoulders and arms, and when she laughed, the area around her blue eyes crinkled adorably.

“You refrigerated water balloons?” Thad coughed, shivering as the last remnants of the projectile trickled down the bare skin of his back. “That seems a little excessive.”

“I never show up to a party empty-handed,” Helms started to reply—but he was cut off by another balloon hurtling past from behind his left shoulder, arcing high above the pool, then exploding like a mortar a few feet from the oversized barbecue grill on the other side of the cobblestone patio. Thad looked up and saw that the second balloon had come from one of the balconies overlooking the pool. There were more co-ops in bathing suits up on the second floor, many clutching bright red plastic cups, presumably filled from the keg that dominated the grassy area on the other side of the barbecue. All told, Thad counted at least thirty people at the pool party—and more were still arriving. He didn’t know what college parties were like, but this get-together was damn impressive.

His attention shifted back from the balcony as the freckled blonde slid off the deck chair and lowered herself into the pool just a few feet away. She brought her hands up behind her head, pinning back her flowing hair—and the motion did wonderful things to her bikini top. Thad felt himself blushing, and he shyly averted his eyes. Reinvention or not, he still had a long way to go before he was going to be entirely comfortable in a scene like this.

“I’m Lisa Daniels,” the girl said. “I think I saw you this morning in line at Space Center Houston.”

“Yeah,” Thad said sheepishly, “that was me. I guess I’m not all that bright, because I probably would have wandered around there all day if some kid in a space suit hadn’t pointed out that I was in the wrong place.”

The girl laughed.

“Actually, I made the same mistake, yesterday. I came a day early to scope the place out. Thank God.”

Thad loved the fact that he was in a program where a girl this hot was nerdy enough to show up a day early to what was essentially a glorified internship. He leaned back against the side of the pool as he watched Helms and the other girl, Sally, slide into the water next to Daniels. Almost immediately, a handful of other co-ops joined them in the shallow end. Everyone was a little nervous, a little excited, and maybe a little too exuberant; at least Thad knew he was. For some reason, he really wanted to impress these people. If he wasn’t going to be shy anymore, he wanted to shoot for the other extreme; he wanted to become the center of the co-op social scene, maybe just to prove something to himself, or maybe just to quiet that feeling that still plagued him, that he didn’t really belong. He was twenty-three, he was married, and he had been kicked out of his house around the same time as these other kids were probably graduating from junior high.

“So this is a monthly thing?” Thad asked, shaking a piece of water balloon out of his longish hair. “Seems like it should be more of a weekly thing.”

One of the co-ops who had taken over a deck chair laughed. He was a tall, athletic-looking guy wearing a starched polo shirt that had probably cost more than Thad’s entire wardrobe.

“We’re going to be working too hard to party every week,” the polo shirt said. “I mean, at least those of us involved in rocket engineering.”

Thad tried to pretend that it wasn’t a subtle knock on his lack of engineering background.

“It’s just that this place is so great,” Thad continued. “It’s a shame to waste it on a once-a-month kind of thing. We should incorporate it into our training.”

Thad’s mind was working fast as he noticed he had caught the attention of all the co-ops within earshot. It was a good feeling, being the center of interest, and his brain was quick enough to take advantage of the situation.

“What do you mean?” Daniels asked. Her eyes lingered on Thad a little too long.

“We can make it into a little game. An educational kind of game. Like a contest.”

Helms was looking at him, and there was something cautioning in his eyes. But Thad ignored him, now on a roll:

“Each week, we’ll identify the most awesome, incredible experience you can have here at NASA. We’ll come up with the coolest thing that a person could get away with—and whoever does that thing by the next week, by the next pool party, he’s the winner.”

The athletic kid in the polo shirt leaned forward.

“The coolest thing—you mean, like get an autograph from an astronaut?”

“I was thinking we could be a little more creative,” Thad said. “Like, the things we’ve read about in the co-op brochures. Maybe getting a ride on the KC-135—the Vomit Comet, that airplane that goes up and down so you get a few minutes of zero gravity.”

“Or sneaking into the NBL!” Daniels nearly squealed. “You know, the Neutral Buoyancy Lab, the biggest indoor pool in the world, where the astronauts train—”

“I’m not so sure this is such a good idea,” Helms interrupted, but one of the other kids pushed his way in, shouting out another idea.

“Someone could get into the Lunar Lab!”

“Or get a picture in a real astronaut helmet!” someone else suggested.

“Or sneak into Mission Control.”

Thad was fighting back a grin as he looked at the excited faces all around him. He knew what he had to do to solidify his role.
He had to top them all
. But he wasn’t going to just say something—he had to say it, and then actually
do it
.

“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,” he stated, quiet enough so they all had to lean toward him to hear. “I’m going to get into Building Five, and get right up next to the Space Shuttle Simulator.”

The place went silent. Thad could hear the water splashing through the filter all the way on the other side of the pool. All of the co-ops were staring at him. Then the kid in the polo shirt laughed out loud.

“No fucking way. You’ll never pull that off. Only astronauts get near the Space Shuttle Simulator.”

The kid in the polo shirt was probably right. The simulator was more than just a mock-up of the space shuttle, like the one Thad had seen at Space Center Houston. It was a working, hyperrealistic flight simulator that you got inside and controlled like the real shuttle. Building 5 was one of the most secure buildings on the NASA campus. But Thad had already started down this path, and he certainly wasn’t going to back down now.

“I guess we’ll see.” He shrugged. “But I hope you’ll all be back here next week so we can talk about it.”

After that, the party started to break up, and the co-ops drifted away by ones and twos. The freckled girl, Daniels, lingered as long as she could—but Thad did his best not to give her any special attention, because he really didn’t want to lead her on. Sonya was a long way away, but Thad figured he had survived the Mormon Church for nineteen years; he could get through three months of pool parties and freckled girls in skimpy bikini tops.

He started to climb out of the pool when he noticed that Helms had moved close to him, still carrying that cautioning look in his eyes.

“Don’t do anything stupid, man. You don’t need to impress anyone.”

Thad glanced at him.

“I’m not trying to impress anyone. I just think it will be fun. Lighten up. I’m not going to do anything that’s against the law.”

Helms looked at him a moment more, then clapped him on the shoulder.

“You keep this up, you’re going to end up shaking this place up. I guess it could use it.”

They both glanced over at the girls—Bishop and Daniels, who were moving past the deck chairs. Daniels adjusted her top to cover a little more freckled skin as she went.

“Still,” Helms continued. “Like I said before, you don’t want to get yourself kicked out of here. There’s just too much goddamn opportunity.”

Thad wasn’t sure whether his new friend was talking about the girls or NASA—but he couldn’t help but agree on both counts.

8

Smile for the cameras
.

Thad kept his head low as he strolled by the entrance to Building 5 for what had to be the sixth time; he’d been casing the place for the past twenty minutes, but he still hadn’t come up with anything resembling a plan. Christ, what an awful criminal he’d make. If anybody was monitoring the dozen or so cameras that were perched along the tree-lined path circumnavigating the modern-looking complex on the south corner of the JSC, they’d probably think that one of the co-ops had gone batty: a kid with bright green eyes in a NASA shirt and khaki pants, aimlessly circling one of the most secure astronaut training facilities on the campus.

Thad couldn’t imagine what he’d been thinking when he’d made the boast at the pool party. He’d been at NASA less than two days, and here he was. Twenty minutes ago, he’d finished an amazing day spent learning how to slice meteorites into tiny segments; now he was wandering around a secure building, contemplating a stunt that could get him kicked right out of the program—and possibly even arrested.

As he passed a set of bushes that marked the far corner of the building, he fingered the yellow security badge that was hanging around his neck. Yellow meant level two—a step beyond what most co-ops wore, because of his position in the life sciences department. The badge meant he could get into most of the buildings on campus—but there were a few important exceptions. Building 1, where the NASA brass had their offices. Building 31N, where all the valuable lunar materials were kept. And Building 5. Yet here he was, wandering back and forth in front of the smoked-glass entrance, trying to figure out a way to get inside.

Helms had spent most of the day trying to convince Thad that it was an extremely bad idea. Helms had grown up in this environment; he knew how seriously people at the JSC respected rules and regulations. But to Thad, Helms was looking at it all wrong. Science was about going beyond the rules, taking chances. Wasn’t the whole point of the co-op program to expand his mind? And besides, Thad only had to close his eyes and he could still picture himself in that swimming pool, all those other kids hanging on his every word. He’d never really felt like that before. And he wanted to feel that way again.

He stopped at the next set of hedges and doubled back toward the glass entrance to the building. There was nothing wrong with at least giving it a try. All he wanted to do was get inside the building, take a quick look at the simulator, then get the hell out. If he got caught, well, he could just play dumb. As long as no one looked at his résumé, he could probably get away with it.

He reached the steps that led up to the black glass entrance—but this time he didn’t pause. He did his best to control his breathing as he entered the building.

He quickly found himself in a spartan foyer, facing a huge metallic door. The surface of the door was completely smooth; no knobs, buttons, or levers that he could see. Above the door was a single security camera pointing down at him. To the left of the doors was a punch pad and a tiny TV screen.

Thad felt a wash of panic spread through him, and he almost turned and ran back through the glass entrance. But he realized that the camera could already see him; before he could do anything, a woman’s voice echoed out of the TV screen.

“Can I help you?”

Thad had to improvise.

“Yes. I’m here for the Shuttle Simulator.”

There wasn’t even a pause. A buzz echoed from behind the door, followed by a mechanical click. The door sprang open a few inches, and Thad quickly pushed through. He immediately found himself in a busy hallway. There were people everywhere, some in white lab coats, some in NASA shirts like his own. But Thad’s eyes quickly focused on the astronauts—at least three that he could see—in their standard blue uniforms, all with shuttle patches on their shoulders.

Christ
. Thad could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Again, he fought the urge to turn and run back the way he had come. But he’d gone this far—and the thing was, nobody in the hallway seemed to notice him. There were people everywhere, but none of them were paying him any attention.

He leaned back against the hallway wall, contemplating his next move. He saw that a few of the people in the hallway were holding clipboards. The guys with the clipboards seemed the least aware—so he figured that one of them was his best bet.

He waited until one of the clipboards moved past him, and then fell right in step behind the man. When the guy finally looked up, Thad smiled at him, forcing the nervousness out of his voice.

“Can you point me toward the Shuttle Simulator?”

The guy didn’t hesitate at all.

“Sure, I’m headed that way.”

Thad almost had to skip to keep up with the man’s pace as he navigated his way down the long hallway. They took a hard, ninety-degree turn—and suddenly they were in front of another metal door. There was a card reader next to the door, and without pause the man with the clipboard took out an ID and swiped it through. He pushed the door open, leaned his head in, and hollered at someone on the other side.

“This guy’s here for a simulation run, can you take care of him?”

Thad nearly choked. He wanted to say something, but his voice was completely gone. The man with the clipboard held the door open for him, and Thad had no choice but to step inside.

Oh, shit
. Thad didn’t even hear the door click shut behind him. He was standing at the edge of what looked like an enormous airplane hangar. There were computers everywhere, workstations separated by engineering panels and whiteboards, all of it interconnected by spaghetti snarls of thick black electrical wire. And there, in the center, rising high into the cavernous space, stood the Space Shuttle Simulator. It was nothing short of spectacular.

“Your first time? Wish it was always this easy to spot a virgin.”

The voice came from Thad’s left, and he glanced over toward a pair of technicians in matching light blue smocks, hovering over something that looked like an oversized circuit board. The one who had spoken was grinning at him, so he grinned back—but he couldn’t keep his focus very long. Like a set of house keys in an MRI machine, his gaze was yanked back toward the technical wonder that took up most of the hangar in front of him.

“It looks a lot bigger in person,” he mumbled.

The simulator was made up of two separate parts. The smaller of the two, the motion-based crew station (MBCS), as it was called, was attached to a huge scissor crane—a jointed, steel monstrosity, loaded with springs and curled-up pneumatic hoses, that assumedly provided incredible levels of hydraulic lift. The MBCS looked like the nose cone of the shuttle, gripped by a massive robotic arm. Although Thad couldn’t see inside the thing from where he was standing, he knew that the MBCS was configured just like the real cockpit of the actual space shuttle, with room for the shuttle commander and the shuttle pilot. The arm gave it six degrees of motion—which meant the thing could simulate every phase of spaceflight, from launch to landing. It could tilt up to ninety degrees in every direction and could simulate acceleration, even moments of weightlessness.

The second part of the simulator was the fixed crew station. A rectangular box, it was a veritable porcupine of wires, antennas, and even miniature radar dishes. The MBCS had room for a commander, a pilot, a mission specialist, and a number of other crew members. It wouldn’t simulate motion, but it was also raised up on an elevated platform, and it was supposed to perfectly simulate the interior environment of the shuttle itself. For long-duration mission simulations, crew members could spend days or even weeks in the MBCS. Food and water would be raised up to them so that they could live exactly like they would in an orbital environment.

“That’s what one hundred million of your tax dollars will get you,” the technician responded as he finally stepped away from the circuit board and approached Thad. “I assume you’re here for the monthly systems check?”

Thad looked at the guy again. The technician was in his mid-thirties, with a receding hairline and a few extra pounds hanging down above his belt. Probably a contractor, obviously not someone Thad would consider an authority figure. No doubt the tech had confused him with someone who was supposed to be there. Or maybe he just didn’t care. He saw the NASA shirt, and that was enough.

For a brief moment, Thad considered ending his charade. Something felt wrong about the deception, even though he hadn’t actively done anything to convince anyone he was supposed to be where he was. At the same time, Thad couldn’t ignore the spikes of pure adrenaline that were ricocheting through his system. It was like the first time he’d flown a single-engine plane by himself, but even more intense. He felt really alive, and the fear of getting caught no longer crossed his mind.

“That’s correct,” he heard himself respond. “I’m supposed to observe the test run.”

“The rest of your crew is already inside,” the tech responded, starting forward toward the simulator. “If we hurry we can make it before it begins.”

Thad’s eyes widened. He had assumed he’d be observing the test run from where he was standing.
Well, in for a penny, in for a one-hundred-million-dollar simulator
. There was no turning back now. He quickly followed the man toward the massive machine.

A second later, he was a few feet away from the giant hydraulic crane. The MBCS’s nose cone was right in front of him, and the tech headed for an open hatch affixed to one side. The tech pointed through the oval opening.

“You guys have the coolest fucking toys.”

Thad wasn’t sure he was even breathing anymore as he stepped past the tech, bending his head so he didn’t hit himself on the simulator’s ceiling. Before he could blink, he was inside the cockpit of the space shuttle. At least, a mock-up so realistic no astronaut in the world would be able to tell the difference.

In some ways, it was like the interior of an airplane. Except a million times
more
. There were triangular viewing windows ahead, windows on either side—and every other surface of the thing was covered in switches, diodes, buzzers, and levers. There was already a man strapped into the pilot’s seat to Thad’s right. He couldn’t tell if the man was an astronaut or a technician, because he was wearing what looked to be gray-on-gray overalls. But there was no doubt he knew what he was doing. His hands were flicking around the switches, beginning what had to be the launch sequence. Without looking up, he gestured toward the other chair—the commander’s seat.

Thad felt another moment of extreme panic, which he quickly swallowed down. As he told the tech, he was just there to observe. That was the charade he had invented, and that was the charade he was going to stick with. Just a lowly co-op who had been sent by his mentor to witness the monthly check of the Space Shuttle Simulator.

It took a moment to figure out how to strap himself into the commander’s seat. There were seat belts coming from every angle, and a holster that went around his chest. When he was done, the pilot said something into a communicator attached above their heads, and Thad heard the whoosh of the hatch sealing shut behind him.

“Let’s finish the checklist,” the pilot grunted, and Thad quickly looked where the man was pointing.

There was a printed checklist attached between their seats. Because Thad had his pilot’s license, he was at least barely able to follow what was going on. He didn’t know where anything was located, but he was able to mimic the pilot’s lead, flicking a switch here and there, reading an alternator or a temperature control.

“Fire it up,” the pilot said.

And the next thing Thad knew, the entire cockpit began to shake. At first, it was a low tremble, but then the thing was really jerking up and down, like a paper airplane riding across the top of a thunderstorm. And suddenly the whole cockpit tilted all the way on its back, nose pointing up. Thad stifled a gasp. To his surprise, the window ahead of him no longer looked out on a converted airplane hangar. Thad was looking at the sky. They weren’t windows; they were high-definition monitors, playing feedback from a real shuttle launch.

A second later, Thad was slammed hard into his seat. The view through the windows became one of pure motion, streaks of light like laser beams flashing before his eyes. The noise of the engines was like thunder reverberating around him in truly deafening peals.

Thad realized he was shouting, in pure unadulterated joy. Maybe the pilot noticed, maybe he couldn’t hear over the din of the mock thrusters—Thad didn’t really care. In his mind, he wasn’t in a simulator tucked into a secure building on the JSC campus.

In his mind, he was sitting in the cockpit of a rocket ship, hurtling toward Mars.

…

It wasn’t quite the overwhelming energy rush of a simulated shuttle thruster pushing him back into a leather commander’s seat—but it was pretty damn close. Sitting cross-legged at the edge of the same swimming pool from the week before, half the young population of Clear Lake spread out across the patio in front of him as he told the story—so many eyes and ears and minds focused entirely on him—maybe embellishing a little bit here and there, but keeping to the narrative as much as possible … well, it was a truly pivotal moment in Thad’s life. He could see his own charisma reflected in the eyes of the pretty girls closest to him, and even in the unabashedly awed expressions on the faces of the men.

“So all in all …” Thad finally wrapped up the story. “I think it was a pretty good week.”

There was a moment of frozen silence, just like there had been when he’d first proposed the idea of the contest a week ago. And then everyone was applauding at once, congratulating him, wave after wave of handshakes and pats on the back, and even a few kisses on the cheek. Helms gave him a grudging thumbs-up, shaking his angled head in admiration.

Thad had secured his place at the top of the social food chain. It was a spot he’d never occupied before—and he liked it.

When the crowd moved away, Helms sidled next to him, dipping his finlike feet into the cool water of the shallow end of the pool.