Perfect.
He tossed his bag on the sofa and put the food in the fridge, wrinkling his nose at the house’s stale air. Smells like an absent bachelor’s pad. He opened the screened windows as he changed into PT gear, letting the early-evening breeze blow through.
The sun was nearing the horizon as he stepped out onto the driveway and started his 5BX stretching. The disrupted schedule at the Cape and the long periods of sitting had made him stiff. He’d learned it was best not to think about it; just put the body through the practiced 10 minutes of isometrics, work smoothly to the limits, ignore the creaks. Let his mind separate and wander.
But the day kept crowding into his mind. He pictured what the crew was doing in the capsule as he transitioned from stretching to sit-ups. He guessed they would not be sleeping easily. Chad with his quick temper not responding well to all the changes of plan, and Michael trying to be a calming influence, minding the ship and doing the right thing. Both men on edge with Luke’s body hovering unavoidably and a female cosmonaut thrown into the mix.
A lot of tension on board.
He stood to do the back extensions, grimacing, then distracting himself by deliberately trying to reimagine the situation through the cosmonaut’s eyes. What had she just been through? Her crewmate killed, Almaz wrecked and abandoned, the wild ride she must have had, holding on to the outside of a spaceship with its engine firing. Like Slim Pickens in Dr. Strangelove. Craziness!
He thought back to what he knew of women cosmonauts. He’d only heard of one, with a name that was oddly easy to remember because of its rhythm: Valentina Tereshkova. What was she—a skydiver and Air Force officer? She had made a short solo flight 10 years earlier, with the Soviets going heavy on the propaganda. But this woman—Svetlana—was likely very different. Working as part of a military spy crew, low-profile, long-duration; it would be a mistake to underestimate her.
He felt the grit of the pavement on his palms as he started into his push-ups, doing them in slow motion for maximum effect. The painful pull across his chest and in his shoulders was almost pleasant; unmistakable feedback that he was at his limit, working his muscles, feeling his own strength.
Tomorrow should be an easier day as the crew transited towards the Moon. Maybe fire the engines once to fine-tune their exact trajectory. A chance for the crew to settle in to the new reality and start focusing on replanning the upcoming landing.
A quiet day would be welcome.
He stood and easily jogged down the drive and turned onto the runway. He glanced at his watch. Forty-five minutes ought to be about right. He set a pace that he knew would get his pulse to 145 or so, and settled into the run.
He’d just cracked open a bottle of Lone Star, his hair still wet from the shower, when he heard the sound of a small engine climbing the driveway. He smiled, opened a second bottle and headed for the front door.
“I am so glad to be back,” Laura said, smiling at him tiredly as she climbed out of her Beetle. She had on a new Walt Disney World T-shirt featuring Minnie Mouse posing self-consciously in a red dress, and was carrying an overnight bag. When she reached him, she took the beer and touched his bottle in a toast before taking a long, thirsty swallow.
With the sparkle returning to her eyes, she said, “If you also have food, you’re the perfect man.”
“How about tuna on toast with pickles?” Kaz took her bag and held the door, and she followed him into the kitchen.
“What did you think of the launch?” he asked as he made the sandwiches.
“We all said the countdown together,” she told him with a grin, “and when that Saturn V blasted off—the rolling noise of it!” She shook her head, marveling. “It gave me an external heartbeat. And so bright—like seeing another sun!”
Kaz carried the sandwiches over to the table and sat down with her, delighting in her pure emotion. He’d been so wrapped up in the technical details, aware of all the dangers, and inside Launch Control, protected from the sound, that he felt he’d somehow missed what she’d seen. And a rare, shared experience. “I would have liked to have watched it with you,” he said.
She looked at him, a half smile on her lips. “Well, you had important astronaut stuff to do. I was just a lunar geologist there for the fun of it.” She took a big bite of her sandwich, then washed it down with the last of the beer. “You got another one of these?”
As he opened the fridge, she popped a pickle into her mouth, talking around it. “How’s the mission going?”
He brought her the beer. As the lead geologist for the flight, she needed to know about Luke’s death and also that a female cosmonaut was going to be landing on the Moon, but still he took a moment before he began to speak, wishing that he could sustain her feelings of wonder just a little longer.