Page 1 of Space Junk: Houston, We Have a Hottie
One
Operation a Go
Jackie
Jackie Darling Leeis a badass name. My parents did well, bestowing a name that held the promise of fearlessness, hotness, and/or general awesomeness on me. With a name like Jackie Darling Lee, I should be a movie star, a best-selling author of steamy erotic romance novels, or at the very least a Southern belle socialite who lives in a Georgian mansion and can rock a hat as well as those British royals. But no, I am not any of these things. Not even close. I’m a nerd. And not one of those ironic, rock and roll nerds who wear combat boots and Buddy Holly glasses, but a straight-up calculator-carrying nerd.
Okay, so I don’t actually carry a calculator around with me. I mean, honestly, there’s an app for that these days. Idohave Buddy Holly glasses, but I had those way before they were trendy. I just got lucky. Even so, Buddy Holly glasses do not a cool person make.
I work at NASA, though, so that’s something. But don’t get too excited. I’m just a cubicle junky who pushes paper about. It’s not like I’m an astronaut or anything. Nowthatwould be badass.
I’m on Orbit 2, the 7 a.m. to 4 p.m. shift in Mission Control Center. MCC is always quiet, because we’re all on our headsets listening to a constant stream of commands and chatter. I’m FOD, which means Flight Operations Directorate. I’m responsible for all spacesuit- and spacewalking-related tasks, equipment and plans. An Extra Vehicular Activities officer—aka EVA. Not to be confused with the actual EVAs, or space walks, that the astronauts perform up in space.
It’s a mouthful, I know. NASA loves it some acronyms.
I began my scheduled EVA procedure review by calling up to the International Space Station. A spacewalk is scheduled tomorrow for maintenance and to look into why one of the external multiplexer-demultiplexer data relay boxes (EXT-MDMs) has been failing. EXTs are like the motherboards of the ISS. However, there are two of these boxes, so no one is in panic mode—yet. But NASA does not like operating without an active backup, and right now we are literally flying on the backup.
“Station, Houston, do you have any open questions prior to the EVA?”
“Houston, Station on 2. I think we’re good. We’ll take a look at the uplinks and final timeline again, but we should be good to go.”
“Station, Houston. All right, conference complete.”
That finishes my final run-through for the next day’s EVA with astronaut Julie Starr. Yes, that is her name. And yes, she is most definitely living up to it. Youngest female astronaut and Mission Specialist on the crew. On top of that, all the men at NASA like to comment on her universal hotness. Jules is rumored to be making the move to Commander soon and on top of all that, the PR department has coined her NASA’s Sweetheart. You’d think it’d be fun to hate her, especially as she has my dream job, but Jules is just as badass personally as she is professionally. And for some strange reason, she likes me. When she is actuallyonPlanet Earth, she makes it her mission to get me a social life.
A ring breaks through the chatter on my headset. It takes me a minute to realize my console phone is ringing. No one has ever called me on it before. I’m not like the other guys with spouses or children who check in. And it isn’t my birthday or Christmas, so it can’t be my dad. And even if it was, my dad is pretty strict about no phone calls at work, no matter the occasion. I get my work ethic from him, I guess.
Preparing to tell someone they dialed the wrong number, I pick up. “EVA console, Jackie speaking.”
“So are you going out?”
I blink at the computer screen in front of me a few times. “Jules?”
“Yes, Jules. Now come on, Jackie, you going out, or what?” Jules’ voice comes through clearly, but it still astounds me that she’s 270 miles up in space and moving over 17,000 miles per hour. And that she’s calling me.
“Jules, what are you doing calling me?” I glance around the room nervously. It isn’t against the rules to take personal calls, but I’ve never done it. “You should be prepping for tomorrow’s EVA.”
“Did you want me to ask you about your social life on the public loop?” She laughs like she could see me cringing from space.
I sigh. “No, I guess not. And no, I am not going out. I’m on call for the front room on your EVA tomorrow.” Besides the normal scheduled shifts, there are also people on call in case someone gets sick or for emergencies.
“You need to get laid.”
I bark out a laugh. Now everyone in Mission Controlislooking at me. My face heats. Sean, the Flight Director, frowns. MCC is supposed to bequiet.
“Jeez, Jules. We’re a bit preoccupied down here,” I say quietly.
“You’re always preoccupied. You have your hand in so many projects and your mind is always so busy calculating or referencing some quantifiable thing that you’ll end up dying a virgin.”
The heat spreads down my neck. “For God’s sake, Jules, I’m not a virgin,” I whisper-mumble.
“Well, you could be. You haven’t gotten any since I’ve known you and I met you on your first day at NASA. How you can go so long, I do not know. You must have one hell of a vibrator.”
I’m thankful for the tall console in front of me that helps to hide my now raging blush. Honestly, I’ve started sweating.
Jules keeps going. “You read those cowboy romance novels, so I know you’re not dead down there.”
“Jules,” I grumble softly into the phone, “I spent my first year at NASA living with my head in reference books and manuals so I could be sitting here talking to you from Mission Control.”
