Chapter 20
JSC, June 6, 2002 Thad pressed his rubber heels against the curved, brilliant white surface of the International Space Station and pushed off, feeling the sudden rush of adrenaline as his body floated forward. His arms instinctively rose out from his sides, his gloved palms outstretched, and for a moment he was like some sort of wingless angel gliding through a devastatingly blue void. Then his body started to spin, somersaulting forward on its axis, a slow-motion human pinwheel riding out a carefully modulated arc, moving farther and farther away from the vast hull of the station in a symphony of weightless motion. Almost immediately, another shape began to grow at the edges of Thad’s revolving vision. Expertly using his arms to slow the revolutions, in a moment he was once again nearly still, floating upside down in the empty blue. He stared out through his Plexiglas faceplate at the shape that was now a form. Even from his upside-down vantage point, the space shuttle was a thing of beauty. From his angle, Thad could make out only a portion of the cylindrical cargo bay, but his mind easily filled in the rest. From the curved, sleek nose cone slicing through the blue somewhere up ahead to the jutting shark fin of a tail towering upward—just out of view—the shuttle’s muscular presence was entirely palpable, even as it hung frozen nearly fifty feet away. Thad was so transfixed by the sight of the thing that he didn’t notice the hatch embedded halfway down the fuselage lifting open until it was nearly perpendicular to the ship itself. He couldn’t make out any details at that distance; the interior of the cargo hold was nothing but a dark yawn. But suddenly a new shape appeared in the darkness, rising up to fill the open hatch like some sort of alien creature. Bulbous, an even brighter shade of white than the International Space Station behind Thad—the creature had legs and arms but was obviously more machine than human. Its legs were thick
like tree trunks, ending in enormous, rubber-soled boots. Its arms, almost as thick as the legs, were stretched outward, gloved hands gripping the sides of the open hatch as if readying for a huge leap forward. The white torso of the thing was a pincushion of tubes and hoses, running around both sides to a giant rectangular pack attached to its back. Still suspended upside down more than fifty feet away, Thad lifted his gaze to the machine creature’s face. Except … it had no face— instead, where its face was supposed to be, he found himself looking at a curved sheet of reflective, gold-hued material, polished so spectacularly smooth that it glowed as if lit by its own internal light source. “My God,” Thad whispered. It was not the first time he had laid his eyes on an EMU, but it was the first time he had seen one like this: fully operational, worn by a real astronaut as he was about to step out of the cargo bay of the space shuttle. The Extravehicular Mobility Unit was a particularly fancy name for a space suit—but to be fair, it was a very fancy space suit. More like a spaceship, actually, a completely self-contained unit designed to protect the astronaut from the harshness of space. Its construction derived from the original design that had been used during the Apollo missions, the EMU was one of the most sophisticated tools in the NASA arsenal. From its hard upper torso made of fiberglass, containing the control module and the primary life-support systems— bleeding the tubes and hoses that controlled oxygen, and cooling and warming liquids that kept the astronaut alive—to the ultrasophisticated helmet, composed of a vent pad that controlled the flow and pressure of oxygen, to the recognizable bubble, which was covered by the extravehicular visor assembly, coated in a thin layer of pure gold to filter out the sun’s dangerous rays. Aside from television and movies, very few people ever got to see an EMU in action, and here Thad had a front-row seat. It was a spectacular, frozen moment in time, and he wished he could have hung there forever, upside down in the blue vastness, lost in his own mind, his fantasies. Because in his fantasies it was him in that EMU, staring out through that gold-tinged visor, stepping forward through the shuttle
cargo door into the nothingness of space. It was him in the astronaut suit, beginning a space walk a few hundred thousand miles above the Earth, working his way toward the International Space Station, joining the ranks of the heroic men and women who had ventured into space with the whole world watching. It was him—not a poor Mormon reject turned out of his home by his own parents, in a rapidly failing relationship, a pretender in a personality and a place he didn’t really belong—a real live astronaut about to do something dangerous and meaningful, to make his mark on the world. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, a voice reverberated through him, bringing him back to himself, hanging upside down in the infinite blue. “Shuttle Commander, this is mission control. Proceed with EVA. Delta Alpha, on our command.” Thad shivered as the words moved through his skull. It was an odd feeling, sound translated directly through bone, as if the words were coming from inside his body instead of from the cheek transmitter that extended out from his face mask. The bone conductor was another cool NASA toy, and even though Thad could only receive sound and not respond, it added a whole new level of sci-fi to the moment he was viewing. “Affirmative, MC. On your mark.” The response was slightly accented, maybe Texas or Louisiana, but still Thad couldn’t quite place the voice. He didn’t know the astronaut stepping out of the shuttle bay door personally, but if he got close enough he was sure he could identify the man through his helmet. That thought alone was thrilling enough; even though he was one week into his third and final tour, Thad hadn’t yet met enough astronauts to make them any less godlike to him. And now, watching one in an EMU, in full action, it was no wonder, because they truly did seem like gods. He wished he could say something, that the bone conductor transmitter worked both ways, that he wasn’t just a voiceless observer. But then again, what would he say? Despite his fantasies, he was just a co-op. “And go.” There was only a brief pause, and then the space-suited figure launched himself forward off the bay door. His bulbous suit floated forward at about twice the speed Thad had originally launched himself
off the space station. It was spectacular to watch. And it wasn’t a dream, it wasn’t a fantasy—but then again, it wasn’t exactly real either. “Roberts”—a different voice suddenly broke through Thad’s bone conductor—“nice job attaching the strobe camera to the station hull. Go ahead and break surface. Doc will check you out, and you can hit the showers.” Thad sighed, took one last look at the astronaut in the EMU—then spun himself around and kicked off with his rubber flippers. He wriggled upward, feeling the cool blue water rushing against his rubber wet suit. Even though he was breathing nitrox and not regular compressed air, he still had to be careful not to rise too fast. The nitrox —a mix regulated to control the nitrogen uptake into his body to extend his dive time—would offer some protection, but there was always the risk of the bends. He had been down for a long time, getting the camera affixed to the station hull just right so Mission Control could photograph the simulated space walk; it had been painstaking work, made all the more difficult by the near-zero-gravity atmosphere at that depth, and even with the flashlight attached to his breathing mask, it had been hard to see because of the strangely, and overwhelmingly, blue nature of the deep-water surroundings. Thad was pretty well exhausted, but still he moved with the precise control of an expert diver, rising foot by foot with the slightest effort from his legs and fins; finally, his head burst out through the surface of the water, the blue vanishing from his eyes in a blast of bright fluorescent lighting. It took him another few minutes to swim the twenty yards to where Brian Helms was standing, looking down with a grin of approval on his face. Brian’s own wet suit was unzipped, hanging down around his waist, revealing a bare chest that was almost as many bony angles as his triangular face. Like Thad, still in the water, Brian was breathing hard. He had only just climbed out of the pool himself, moments ago. To Thad, calling it a “pool” was more than an understatement: the Neutral Buoyancy Lab—the NBL—was simply massive, and one of the most impressive facilities at NASA—though it wasn’t located on the JSC campus, instead being housed in the ultrasecure Sonny Carter building, a ten-minute drive through Clear Lake from the main campus.
The NBL was the largest indoor pool of water on Earth. Two hundred and two feet in length, 102 feet wide, 40.5 feet deep, it contained over six million gallons of water. It was the premier astronaut training environment in existence. As Thad looked back across the vast expanse of water, it was almost hard to believe that deep below, where he had just been, there was a full mock-up of the International Space Station, the space shuttle cargo bay, and even the Hubble Telescope. The only clues to what lay below were the enormous, bright yellow mechanical cranes that hung down into the water, which were used to reposition the mock-ups for different projects and training programs. Even though Thad had been working in the NBL for six days now, he was still in awe of the facility. When he had first come to NASA, he had read about the NBL, but seeing it in person was a truly humbling experience. Because in many ways, like the Space Shuttle Simulator he had snuck into during his first week, this was as close to space as a nonastronaut could get. Deep in the pool, astronauts could practice space walks—as Thad had just witnessed—as well as work within the space station and shuttle in a neutrally buoyant atmosphere. The EMUs protected the astronauts from the water as well as the pressure, and with the help of divers to keep them properly buoyant, they got a pretty good approximation of the real sensations of living and working in zero g. Underneath the EMUs, the astronauts wore long johns and a body diaper, as well as the liquid cooling and heating tubing that kept them at the proper temperatures. Gloves, regulators and fans, helmet coms —the EMU contained everything the astronaut would be using in a real space walk, kept at a perfect internal pressure of 4.3 psi. Dressed like that, an astronaut could live in the suit for almost nine hours, and though the experience was slightly altered for the underwater environment, the concept was strikingly similar. Any mission that took place in space began here, and now Thad was part of all that, working on projects that would one day be replicated in outer space. Thad found himself grinning just like Brian as he pulled himself out of the pool and onto the wide, grated metal deck of the NBL. His body felt strained, and he could hear his heart pounding in his chest. He had been down a little longer than he had realized. Because of the nitrox, it
was unlikely he would get the bends, but even so, after the dive doctor checked him out and sent him to the showers, he’d have to wait around for a couple of extra hours and be rechecked to make sure the time under water hadn’t done any damage. But truly, he didn’t care about the minute physical risks of being a dive assistant at the NBL; he wouldn’t have traded the position for anything. It was the plum co-op job, the most-sought-after posting in the co-op program. The fact that he was there, on the NBL deck—and that Brian was with him—was pure luck. Or really, more timing than luck—like a lot of things in Thad’s life, it was about being in the right place—and knowing how to take advantage of an opportunity. … After two tours spent in the life sciences department, Thad had been looking to do something different, something more active, something where he could take advantage of his unique skill sets to further impress the NASA brass. So when he’d heard about the NBL position opening up, he had been instantly intrigued. That Brian—who had decided to return to NASA for an unusual fourth tour at the behest of his mother—was interested in the position only added to the spirit of the competition. Usually, there was a two-year waiting list for NBL jobs, and no doubt there would be dozens of applicants aiming for the same spot. The week before Thad was supposed to go for his interview, he was stepping out of his usual Tuesday-night volunteer firefighter meeting— Wednesdays were sailing; Thursdays, rock climbing—when he noticed something on the sidewalk in front of him. A wallet, obviously dropped by someone by mistake. Inside the wallet was an ID with a picture that Thad vaguely recognized from previous firefighter nights—but not someone he knew by name. There was also a NASA ID—so as soon as Thad returned home, he looked the guy up in the NASA directory and made the call. Getting an answering machine, he had left a simple message. An hour later, the man called back, thrilled that Thad had found his wallet. He had already canceled his credit cards and was working on getting a new NASA ID, but Thad still volunteered to drop the wallet by
wherever the man worked. Instead, the man scheduled a time to swing by Thad’s lab in Building 31 the next day. When he pulled up in a little red convertible sports car at the prescribed time, Thad was surprised at how appreciative and thankful the man appeared to be; Thad hadn’t done anything anyone else wouldn’t have. But in any event, by the end of that day Thad had forgotten about the exchange. In fact, he didn’t even remember the man’s name. A week later, he and Brian did their best to remain optimistic as they carpooled the short ten-minute drive over to the Sonny Carter Training Facility for their NBL interviews. They were both excited just to see the building, as it was one of the highlights of the institution, and neither one of them had clearance to get inside without an escort. They didn’t think they’d actually get a chance to walk on the deck of the great pool itself, but just being in the same building where the astronauts trained underwater would be an amazing experience. When they stepped inside the building, they were directed to a small waiting area, just outside the heavy doors that led into the main part of the facility. Not surprisingly, Brian was the first one ushered down the hall toward the administration offices. There was no doubt, now, that his mother had made a phone call at some point down the line. Thad didn’t begrudge his friend his connections; if Thad had been lucky enough to have been born to a NASA engineer, he would have carried the man or woman’s picture in his pocket everywhere he went. Twenty minutes later, Brian made his way back into the waiting area —a huge smile on his face. “Turns out we went to the same college,” he said, barely containing his joy. “So we had a lot to talk about. I think I’m in.” Thad gave him a high five; he was genuinely happy for his friend, not just because he liked and respected Brian, but because if Brian got clearance to the NBL, maybe he’d be able to bring Thad inside along with him, every now and then. It was another twenty minutes before Thad got called for his own interview. Brian wished him luck, and then Thad was moving quickly down the hall that led to the administrator’s offices. The designated room was at the end, the door already open. He stopped in the
doorway, peering into what looked like a huge space with an oversized wooden desk in one corner. There was a man sitting at the desk, back to the door, typing away at a computer. Thad immediately got the impression that this man had already made his decision. He certainly didn’t seem eager to meet another co-op. But when the man finally turned around, Thad was in for a shock. The guy was grinning just like he’d been a week earlier, when Thad had returned the lost wallet to him. The man’s name was Mike, and it was just one of those crazy coincidences in life; Mike was one of the NBL’s project managers, and he had been given the task of hiring the new co-op for the dive assistant position. “We can end the suspense right now,” he said, “because you’ve got the job. You, and your buddy out there; I’ll have to shuffle a few things, but we can certainly make room for two. But we’ve got to sit here for at least fifteen minutes and make it look like we’re doing an interview so I don’t get in any trouble.” And for the next fifteen minutes they chatted, mostly about the NBL and how Thad would have to get recertified in scuba to NASA’s exacting standards. Thad wasn’t worried about any testing; he had yet to fail at anything he’d gone after. … “I don’t care how cool that monster of a swimming pool is,” Brian shouted over the sound of the space-age shower jets that were pummeling him from every angle. “The thing that really blows my mind is the goddamn towels.” Thad grinned, raising his face to let one of his own shower nozzles go to work on his neck and upper chest. The tension was bleeding right out of him as the superheated jets of water cycled from soft to hard in a prearranged massaging program. The astronaut shower room was totally a scene right out of The Jetsons. The shower cubicles themselves were single-unit pods formed out of some seamless, space-age material. The electronic control panels affixed to the smooth interior walls were incredibly complex, offering control of the water temperature as well as the nozzle pressure. Thad was amazed at how extreme on either end the temperature and pressure
could get; you could almost burn the flesh from your bones if you wanted. And since he had plenty of time to kill, waiting for the dive doctor to release him from the facility, Thad liked to set up massage routines that utilized a really wide range of pressures and temperatures. The controls also allowed him to choose the type of shampoo and conditioner he wanted to squirt out of the dispenser knobs attached to the ceiling. It was not unusual for a dive assistant’s shower to last half an hour, or more. And when Thad stepped out of the shower—that’s when the mystery set in. Like clockwork, a steaming hot towel would appear out of the wall in front of him. Both Thad and his friend had spent hours searching for the sensors that told the computer it was time for the towel—to no avail. “I think it’s something they brought back from space,” Thad responded as the streams of water pummeling his body finally softened, indicating the end of the cycle. “Definitely alien technology.” When the water completely stopped, he stepped out of the pod— and there it was, the mechanical whir followed by a hot towel. He grabbed the towel and wrapped it around his waist. Brian was already at his locker, retrieving his NASA shirt and khaki pants. As Thad approached the locker next to his friend, a thought sprang into his head—and certainly not for the first time. He and Brian were pretty close, had worked next to each other on and off over a long period of time. Brian didn’t really know him—just the persona he put on at NASA, the character he had become since that first evening at the pool party. But he did consider Brian a pretty good friend. He wondered: What would happen if he told Brian about the e-mails, and the mental game he had been playing? But then he quickly shook the thought away. As much as he was dying to tell someone other than Gordon—who really was little more than an acquaintance—Brian would never have understood. Brian wouldn’t see it as a mental game, or some sort of potential prank—which is how Thad was beginning to describe it to himself. Brian would see it as a potential crime. Even though NASA considered the rocks trash, and there was no good reason for them to remain stored away, forever, in the darkness —well, maybe it was a potential crime. But if Thad somehow figured
out how to pull it off—what a fucking crime it would be. Because the truth was, even though Thad had made himself sound so confident in the e-mails he had exchanged with Axel Emmermann— and since then, the man’s sister-in-law, a woman named Lynn Briley— the truth was, he had no idea how he would even begin to pull something like that off. The lunar vault still seemed pretty much impregnable to him. He’d made some headway coming up with some of the steps he’d need to complete, some of the preparation he’d need to engage in before he even got started—but overall, he still didn’t have a full idea of how he was going to get to that safe full of discarded moon rocks. All the more reason why he wished he could talk this out with someone, to bounce it off a confidant. But watching Brian at the locker, pulling his NASA shirt over his triangular face—the guy was too straitlaced, too NASA to the core. For the moment, despite all the e-mails, despite the fact that there was now a woman in the United States who had gathered together $100,000, ready to pay him—a massive sum of money to Thad, who had never even imagined having that much cash—this would remain a mental game, another fantasy like the dozens of other fantasies that made up the texture of his daily life. An impossible, wonderful, terrifying fantasy. Then again, a few feet away there was a swimming pool that contained the International Space Station and the space shuttle. A few feet away, astronauts in EMU suits conducted space walks while Mission Control guided them along, with the help of bone-conducting transmitters. At NASA, nothing was impossible. And a hundred thousand dollars—wasn’t that a pretty good motivation to solve the problems that lay ahead? Was the money worth the risk? Thad was on his third tour. He was working in the NBL. He was a star co-op. There was a chance he’d be hired by the JSC after he graduated. At the same time, his relationship with Sonya was almost over. He wasn’t even sure he was ever going back to Utah. Utah seemed like a million miles away. NASA was his entire life, even if, as a co-op, it was
still more fantasy than reality. One day, couldn’t this be his life for real? A hundred thousand dollars couldn’t be enough to make him risk all of that, could it? There had to be something else—a catalyst. Something to transform this from a mental game into something else. Gordon had been a first step: a link who’d gotten him in touch with someone willing to put up the cash. But to make this real—he needed an even more significant trigger. Without a truly powerful new catalyst, to clear away the fog of fantasy, this would never be anything more real than a space shuttle at the bottom of a swimming pool.
sex on the moon - the amazing true story
Re: sex on the moon - the amazing true story
Chapter 21
In retrospect, the flip-flops were a mistake. Thad had managed the hour-and-a-half drive south all right, his Toyota leading the small caravan of mostly expensive foreign cars from the JSC outer parking lot to the Texas coast without losing a single co-op along the way. But once they had all jammed their way onto the single-deck ferry for the short trip to their Galveston Bay isthmus destination—the cars packed so closely together there was barely room for the doors to open the necessary few inches to allow the more adventurous among the group to slither out during the short ride over to the campsite—Thad realized he ought to have chosen more appropriate footwear. EMU space boots with magnetic grips would have fit the bill—although he would have settled for his dusty Timberlands. He stumbled forward as the ferry pitched hard over an errant wave, and barely caught himself before tumbling halfway over the hood of a black BMW sedan. There was maybe a foot and a half between the BMW on his right and a Range Rover to his left, and he was forced to stutter-step as he moved between the cars. The flip-flops were playing havoc with his usually perfect sense of balance. The soles of the damn things kept getting caught on the metal ridges that marred the floor of the ferry, and it was unlikely he was cutting much of an impressive figure as he made his rounds up and down the line of cars, greeting his co-op followers. It wasn’t like he’d prepared a speech or anything, but he did have a reputation to uphold. A lot of the first-and second-tour kids didn’t know him personally, but most had signed up for the weekend excursion because Thad Roberts, social star of NASA, had arranged it—which meant it would be something fun, something different. An adventure. He reached the driver’s-side window of the BMW and shook hands with the young man inside, introducing himself. He filed the guy’s name
away in his nearly photographic memory, then continued on toward the next car. Another wave pushed him back against the rear of the Range Rover—so he improvised, giving high fives to the young couple in the backseat of the vehicle, second years he recognized from the JSC cafeteria—and then he steadied himself using the bumper of a fourdoor Mercedes. The Galveston Bay excursion was one of his most popular, which was the reason he had chosen it for the first weekend of his third tour. The beaches where they were headed had pretty relaxed rules—which meant that by nightfall, Thad would have multiple bonfires up and going, with no worries that any authorities would come by to make them put them out. There would be alcohol, of course, though Thad hadn’t brought any himself and wouldn’t partake; he’d probably never be able to look at booze or cigarettes or drugs of any sort without being reminded of his father’s vivid stories of hell and damnation—but he enjoyed being around the party atmosphere that alcohol usually inspired. Not that alcohol or the bonfires would be the highlights of the excursion; in this case, nature was going to top anything he or his charges could arrange. The beach they were going to was known for more than a lax police presence; where they were going, it was all about the algae. Thad had always believed that bioluminescent algae was something you had to experience for yourself; there was nothing like wading out to your waist, churning your hands along the bottom—and watching the water light up like the Fourth of July. And as if the bonfires and the algae fireworks weren’t enough, Thad had something even more spectacular planned for later in the weekend. He was going to cap things off with a truly dramatic adventure that the co-ops would remember for the rest of their tours. He was having a little better luck with his footing as he passed the Mercedes and a second BMW, glad-handing the co-ops who filled each of the vehicles. He could tell from the progress of the ferry that they were only ten minutes away from their destination, and he was about to turn back toward his car when he noticed the Jeep Cherokee at the front of the row to his left, only two more cars down. He figured he might as well make it to the end, say hello to everyone; besides, he
knew the driver of the Jeep, a second-year co-op named Chip Ellis who had been with him on a dozen other excursions in the past. He was halfway to the Jeep when, looking through the oversized vehicle’s back window, he noticed that there were two passengers in the rear seat. Girls he didn’t recognize, one of them tall with light hair, and the other, in the farthest seat over, petite, with sable hair cropped short, almost a pageboy cut. Focused on the girls, he pulled himself along the Jeep by hand so that he wouldn’t pitch forward at the last moment and make a fool of himself. He could tell from the way the girls’ faces lit up as they saw him move past the side window, toward the driver, that even though he had never met them before, they knew exactly who he was. Chip rolled down his window and gave Thad a vigorous handshake before introducing him to the ladies. The blonde was named Rachel, a physical engineer from South Carolina who had just begun her first tour, working with submersible, radio-controlled exploration vehicles. Thad figured that sooner or later, he’d probably see her on the deck of the NBL. The other girl, the petite brunette, was named Rebecca. Chad introduced her as an up-and-coming biologist. She was only twenty, and one week into her first tour—but already she had impressed Bob Musgrove and the other heads of the co-op program into letting her run her own plant-life photosynthesis experiment. Plant growth in zero gravity was one of the more important areas of study at NASA, now that Mars was in its headlights; creating a sustainable environment would one day involve the secret world of plant biology. The fact that Rebecca was already being described as a brilliant scientist barely registered; now that Thad was close enough to really see her through the open window of the Jeep, he was having an almost vascular reaction. Physically, she was stunning. Her hair was jet black, framing a face that looked as if it had been carved from polished porcelain. Her cheekbones were unnervingly high, and her playful blue eyes lit up in a way that reminded Thad of the bioluminescent algae they were on their way to see. She was wearing a white T-shirt and extremely short shorts; even from a glance, it was easy to discern her tight, athletic
form. The sliver of bare skin between her shirt and shorts sent chills down his spine, and he actually found himself turning his eyes away. To his utter surprise, he was intimidated by this ninety-pound girl. He hadn’t spoken one word to her—and yet he found himself terrified that she was looking right through him, right past the exciting persona he had created, right through to his core. And he wanted nothing more than for her to react to that core, the way he was reacting to her presence. He felt numb all over. Like he’d been down in the NBL a minute too long—and now he needed the doctor to send them straight to the sci-fi showers. So he did the only thing he could think of. He completely ignored her, focusing instead on his buddy in the front seat. He made small talk for a few minutes and then quickly hurried back down the line of cars toward his Toyota. His heart was pounding, and he no longer noticed the way the flip-flops grabbed at the jutted floor. He fought the urge to look back over his shoulder, to see if she was watching him. He had a feeling that if he did, there was a good chance he would lose his balance entirely and end up underneath one of the cars. He was completely at a loss to explain the way he felt. If it had something to do with the continuing demise of his relationship with Sonya, well—the timing couldn’t have been better. He was in need of a new experience. As he reached his car, he had a feeling that the new co-ops weren’t the only ones who were about to embark on a life-changing adventure.
In retrospect, the flip-flops were a mistake. Thad had managed the hour-and-a-half drive south all right, his Toyota leading the small caravan of mostly expensive foreign cars from the JSC outer parking lot to the Texas coast without losing a single co-op along the way. But once they had all jammed their way onto the single-deck ferry for the short trip to their Galveston Bay isthmus destination—the cars packed so closely together there was barely room for the doors to open the necessary few inches to allow the more adventurous among the group to slither out during the short ride over to the campsite—Thad realized he ought to have chosen more appropriate footwear. EMU space boots with magnetic grips would have fit the bill—although he would have settled for his dusty Timberlands. He stumbled forward as the ferry pitched hard over an errant wave, and barely caught himself before tumbling halfway over the hood of a black BMW sedan. There was maybe a foot and a half between the BMW on his right and a Range Rover to his left, and he was forced to stutter-step as he moved between the cars. The flip-flops were playing havoc with his usually perfect sense of balance. The soles of the damn things kept getting caught on the metal ridges that marred the floor of the ferry, and it was unlikely he was cutting much of an impressive figure as he made his rounds up and down the line of cars, greeting his co-op followers. It wasn’t like he’d prepared a speech or anything, but he did have a reputation to uphold. A lot of the first-and second-tour kids didn’t know him personally, but most had signed up for the weekend excursion because Thad Roberts, social star of NASA, had arranged it—which meant it would be something fun, something different. An adventure. He reached the driver’s-side window of the BMW and shook hands with the young man inside, introducing himself. He filed the guy’s name
away in his nearly photographic memory, then continued on toward the next car. Another wave pushed him back against the rear of the Range Rover—so he improvised, giving high fives to the young couple in the backseat of the vehicle, second years he recognized from the JSC cafeteria—and then he steadied himself using the bumper of a fourdoor Mercedes. The Galveston Bay excursion was one of his most popular, which was the reason he had chosen it for the first weekend of his third tour. The beaches where they were headed had pretty relaxed rules—which meant that by nightfall, Thad would have multiple bonfires up and going, with no worries that any authorities would come by to make them put them out. There would be alcohol, of course, though Thad hadn’t brought any himself and wouldn’t partake; he’d probably never be able to look at booze or cigarettes or drugs of any sort without being reminded of his father’s vivid stories of hell and damnation—but he enjoyed being around the party atmosphere that alcohol usually inspired. Not that alcohol or the bonfires would be the highlights of the excursion; in this case, nature was going to top anything he or his charges could arrange. The beach they were going to was known for more than a lax police presence; where they were going, it was all about the algae. Thad had always believed that bioluminescent algae was something you had to experience for yourself; there was nothing like wading out to your waist, churning your hands along the bottom—and watching the water light up like the Fourth of July. And as if the bonfires and the algae fireworks weren’t enough, Thad had something even more spectacular planned for later in the weekend. He was going to cap things off with a truly dramatic adventure that the co-ops would remember for the rest of their tours. He was having a little better luck with his footing as he passed the Mercedes and a second BMW, glad-handing the co-ops who filled each of the vehicles. He could tell from the progress of the ferry that they were only ten minutes away from their destination, and he was about to turn back toward his car when he noticed the Jeep Cherokee at the front of the row to his left, only two more cars down. He figured he might as well make it to the end, say hello to everyone; besides, he
knew the driver of the Jeep, a second-year co-op named Chip Ellis who had been with him on a dozen other excursions in the past. He was halfway to the Jeep when, looking through the oversized vehicle’s back window, he noticed that there were two passengers in the rear seat. Girls he didn’t recognize, one of them tall with light hair, and the other, in the farthest seat over, petite, with sable hair cropped short, almost a pageboy cut. Focused on the girls, he pulled himself along the Jeep by hand so that he wouldn’t pitch forward at the last moment and make a fool of himself. He could tell from the way the girls’ faces lit up as they saw him move past the side window, toward the driver, that even though he had never met them before, they knew exactly who he was. Chip rolled down his window and gave Thad a vigorous handshake before introducing him to the ladies. The blonde was named Rachel, a physical engineer from South Carolina who had just begun her first tour, working with submersible, radio-controlled exploration vehicles. Thad figured that sooner or later, he’d probably see her on the deck of the NBL. The other girl, the petite brunette, was named Rebecca. Chad introduced her as an up-and-coming biologist. She was only twenty, and one week into her first tour—but already she had impressed Bob Musgrove and the other heads of the co-op program into letting her run her own plant-life photosynthesis experiment. Plant growth in zero gravity was one of the more important areas of study at NASA, now that Mars was in its headlights; creating a sustainable environment would one day involve the secret world of plant biology. The fact that Rebecca was already being described as a brilliant scientist barely registered; now that Thad was close enough to really see her through the open window of the Jeep, he was having an almost vascular reaction. Physically, she was stunning. Her hair was jet black, framing a face that looked as if it had been carved from polished porcelain. Her cheekbones were unnervingly high, and her playful blue eyes lit up in a way that reminded Thad of the bioluminescent algae they were on their way to see. She was wearing a white T-shirt and extremely short shorts; even from a glance, it was easy to discern her tight, athletic
form. The sliver of bare skin between her shirt and shorts sent chills down his spine, and he actually found himself turning his eyes away. To his utter surprise, he was intimidated by this ninety-pound girl. He hadn’t spoken one word to her—and yet he found himself terrified that she was looking right through him, right past the exciting persona he had created, right through to his core. And he wanted nothing more than for her to react to that core, the way he was reacting to her presence. He felt numb all over. Like he’d been down in the NBL a minute too long—and now he needed the doctor to send them straight to the sci-fi showers. So he did the only thing he could think of. He completely ignored her, focusing instead on his buddy in the front seat. He made small talk for a few minutes and then quickly hurried back down the line of cars toward his Toyota. His heart was pounding, and he no longer noticed the way the flip-flops grabbed at the jutted floor. He fought the urge to look back over his shoulder, to see if she was watching him. He had a feeling that if he did, there was a good chance he would lose his balance entirely and end up underneath one of the cars. He was completely at a loss to explain the way he felt. If it had something to do with the continuing demise of his relationship with Sonya, well—the timing couldn’t have been better. He was in need of a new experience. As he reached his car, he had a feeling that the new co-ops weren’t the only ones who were about to embark on a life-changing adventure.
Re: sex on the moon - the amazing true story
The long hours are still flowering. I watch them w ith my eyes closed and remember how I once played a part in a fairy tale. How the most beautiful young woman simply materialized out of my dreams. I was intimidated by her delicate grace, infatuated w ith her mind, and mesmerized by her body. In the peak of my confidence I was absolutely helpless. French words part her lips. She is thrilled to show me a lichen, she wants to go flying, she brings the heavens to me, she jumps into the water in her little black bikini— first!