Page 43 of Fighting Gravity

He didn’t fault the man. Chen had been offered one of only three spots on China’s space station and since he couldn’t stay in the States anyway, he’d elected to accept. Tate understood that a space station gig was an astronaut’s ultimate goal. He would never begrudge an opportunity like that to anyone, especially a friend. But fuck if he wasn’t sad to see him go, for OrbitAll’s sake and for Elle’s.

He’d never seen anyone act as much as she’d been all week. She’d been smiling and planning like nothing had changed, but he could see that her joy was a veneer and a thin one at that.

Tate glanced at his watch and sighed. Chen had begged him to meet with Vadim Baranov, a Russian cosmonaut hopeful who was instead contracted as a private pilot for a Spanish football club. Despite Chen’s glowing reviews, Tate needed a bit more convincing. Vadim had no military or test flight experience. His spin-up period would be steep even with full cosmonaut training and thousands of flight hours on commercial jets. By training, he should be a cosmonaut. He just hadn’t made the cut at Star City, Russia’s space base.

Tate liked to hire dreamers, but he didn’t want any further hiccups in his program. He’d lost George, and Chen had barely broken in his office chair. He’d only stayed a few months. Tate had asked Sarah, their HR director, to pull some recent résumés just in case this visit with Vadim didn’t sit well.

He heard two loud voices outside his office. Seconds later, Chen and his friend barged in. Tate rose, briefly taken aback by the gigantic man in his doorway. It was his size that surprised Tate most, but Vadim was also covered in ink everywhere but his face. Even his fingers and head were tattooed. He had a good six inches of height on Tate and was so absurdly muscular that he strained the button-down he wore. Tate could see outlines of more tattoos through the white dress shirt.

He gave himself a mental shake. He didn’t give a shit what the guy looked like as long as he cared about the safety and success of their program as much as Tate did.

“Vadim Baranov. Nice to meet you.” The man’s booming voice matched his body.

“Likewise.” Tate shook the man’s hand. “Thanks for coming out from Seville on such short notice.”

“Tate, this is history in the making.” Chen hadn’t stopped grinning. “As much as I hate to admit it, Vadim is going to be the pilot who takes the first commercial passengers to space. If you can beat the other guys. No pressure.”

Tate rolled his eyes before giving his attention back to the man in front of him. “I don’t think we have any hope for a normal interview with Chen around, so why don’t we take a tour and you tell me what you think I should know.”

“I’ll tell you everything you need to know about Vadim,” Chen chimed in. “He’s a specialist in cosmonautics. He can jump-rope for ten minutes straight without breaking a sweat. His favorite brand of vodka is the good Geier one. What’s it called?”

“Blazh,” they said together.

Tate smiled. Brand loyalty wasn’t a bad start.

During their tour of the facility, he learned that for all the jokes Vadim shared with Chen, his college buddy, he had just as many serious questions for Tate. He was particularly interested in their captive-carry and free-glide tests flights, which had taken place before they’d started the powered and crewed flights with George and then Chen.

In the simulation bay, he watched him interact with the crew. Vadim was attentive and intelligent, and Tate had to remind himself more than once to school his surprise. Appearances were just that.

They were leaving the simulation bay so Vadim could get a look at Stratos when Tate spied Quinn heading their way. Her head was bent over her tablet, eyebrows pinched, as she threaded through people and tables without looking. As she neared their group, she stopped with only inches to spare. Without touching, her body seemed to collide with Vadim’s. Her head tipped up and up, taking in the mountainous man in front of her. She stared at Vadim, who was staring back.

“Quinn?” Tate prompted.

“Hmm?”

Tate glanced between her and Vadim. A smirk had appeared on Vadim’s face as Quinn blinked up at him, entirely dwarfed by his bulk.

“What’s this?” she said finally, tearing her eyes away and waving her hand at the lot of them.

“Don’t you mean, ‘Who’s this?’” Vadim supplied. “That’s what you really want to know, isn’t it?”

His snarky comment spurred her to action. She slammed her iPad shut. “Fine. Who are you?”

“Vadim is your new test pilot,” Chen answered cheerfully. “Right, Tate?”

Quinn threw Tate a panicked look.

“OrbitAll, remember?” he murmured, stressing the latter half of their name. Everyone was welcome there, regardless of appearances.

“That’s not—” She shook her head. “I need you when you’re done here.” She cast one last look at Vadim before stalking away. Moving toward Stratos, Tate noticed that Vadim looked back, too.

The man inspected every inch of Stratos’ body and peppered the nearby technicians with questions about system integrations and design responses. Inside the spaceplane, Tate didn’t miss Vadim’s slow perusal of the cabin and the reverent way he touched the controls. He was more introspective without Chen there. He caressed the leather of the pilot’s seat like it was a lover he hadn’t seen in months. Ducking back into the cabin, Vadim gave the cockpit one last sweeping glance and sighed. That was the moment Tate decided he’d ignore the stack of astronaut résumés on his desk and instead go with his gut. Intuition hadn’t failed him yet.

“Vadim, I like what I see with you. What I hear. I want you to join our team.”

The man looked as if he was fighting a smirk.

“Your résumé might not match up with the others in contention, but for me, experience is less important than drive and grit.”

---