Page 32 of Space Junk: Houston, We Have a Hottie
Jackie:Pluto was discovered in 1930, before the creation of Mickey’s canine companion. This is a moot point anyway. Pluto was stripped of planetary status in 2006 and reclassified as a dwarf planet by the IAU.
Jackie:Stop texting me.
I don’t get it. If I was right, and he was just messing with me when he kissed me, then why bother texting? Has his pride taken a hit because I called him on his game of ‘kiss the nerd’?Andif I was wrong, which is highly improbable but still statistically possible, then why would he want to talk to the crazy girl who kissed him like a porn star then slammed the door in his face? There is no way a guy like him—tall, sexy, and immensely cool—would want to be with a clueless, inexperienced geek like me. It just doesn’t make sense. I don’t like things that don’t make sense.
My phone sounds again.
Flynn:IAU? The Interstellar Astronaut University?
I roll my eyes. He has to be messing with me.
Jackie:No. International Astronomical Union.
Jackie:And stop texting me.
“Jackie, what did you think of the EVA proposal I emailed you?”
Startled, I jump in my seat, causing my chair to roll back a few feet from the desk. Ian is leaning up against the edge of my cubicle.
Another reason to be aggravated with Flynn. He’s taking away time and brain space I need for work. I use my heels to walk my chair back to my desk and turn to Ian.
“Sorry. I didn’t get a chance to read it. What’d it say?”
One of Ian’s eyebrows arches up. “I sent it first thing this morning.”
Seeing as it’s past lunch, I should have read it.
“Sorry, I’ve been, uh, really busy with the...”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll run it by Sean.”
“Sorry. Really. I’m just a bit…preoccupied.”
Ian grins and turns back into my cubicle. Or, as I like to think of it, my personal command center. James is nowhere to be found. Another reason he’s a great cube-mate.
I’m lucky in that our cubicle backs to an actual window. Windows at NASA are like a rare hybrid eclipse. They exist, but no one really believes it until they see one. Especially in the older, space race era buildings, when the U.S. thought the Russians were spying on them. Which, you know, they were. But still, now it’s like working in the Bat Cave.
“I was just thinking about The Progress supply shuttle going up soon,” Ian explains. “I know we have new software going up to install on the old EXT, but I made an additional EVA plan should we want to incorporate a procedure to attach a protective panel to shield the external wires.”
“Yes.” I nod, thinking through his idea. “Totally agree. The odds are astronomically against this happening again, but we thought that before the main computer wires got hit too. I’m actually surprised there’s any external wiring left on the station, let alone these two vital computers. We should reposition and run everything internally.”
Ian nods as I speak. We’re often in agreement on space-related updates.
“But good luck getting Sean on board, or the higher-ups to fund the materials or the EVAs needed to accomplish that,” I continue, letting my exasperation show.
He chuckles and sighs. “Yeah, I know. The odds of that happening are probably lower than wires getting hit with more space junk.”
We share a familiar smile. It’s nice having someone who speaks my language, so to speak. But looking into Ian’s pretty face, I can’t help but wonder if he knows how to hotwire a car.
* * *
“Beep. Beep.”
I’ve finally given Flynn his own personal ring and text tone. He’d been destroying my love for one of the best movies ever made and the voice of one of the finest actors. I can’t let that continue. I don’t watch car movies. Or I hadn’t. Yet. I might have bought a few on Amazon this week.Fast and the Furious.Gone in Sixty Seconds.American Graffiti. For research. No correlation to a certain mechanic. Nope.
Anyway. I don’t know any car movie quotes. So Flynn gets a car honk for his ring tone.
Flynn:The moon landing was a hoax.
