Page 20 of Space Oddities

“Your official warning.”

The paper crumples in Ian’s hand. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I cover my mouth, trying to hide my amusement at Ian’s incredulity. I can’t imagine he’s ever been given an official warning before, not even from something as pretentious as a homeowner’s association. It’s like giving Captain America a parking ticket.

“No, sir.” Charlie backs away, having to walk in a curve to keep both Ian and me at his front. “You have twenty-four hours to ether remove the vehicle from the premises or shut off the generator and fully enclose it. Or fines will be levied, and if left unpaid, a motion to put a lien on your house will be carried out.”

Ian’s mouth drops open.

Charlie turns and power-walks down the drive. “Have a nice day!” He picks up his pace to a jog.

Unable to hold it back any longer, I laugh. But it fades when I see Ian, no longer outraged, is amused as well. “I guess this means I get a houseguest.”

“Oh.” Reality sinks in as I glance at my trailer. A trailer that will turn into a sauna death trap in the Texas heat without running A/C.

Dimples pop in his cheeks, his grin not nearly as wholesome looking as usual. “Pack your bags, lady.” He strolls into the garage, toward the side door of the house, whistling. “I’ll clear out the guest room.”

I stand there blinking, watching his fine backside disappear into his McMansion.

Well, horsefeathers.

Six

Get Aheads

Ian

“Now that Bartolomeohas successfully launched, we’ll start the fix and install EVAs to get it up and running.” EVA Director Dom Richie clicks through the presentation highlighting the group’s next major projects. Among them is the one I pitched and planned to make all wires internal along the International Space Station’s trusses so we don’t have any more space junk impact failures. And then the larger, more high-profile spacewalk needed on the European side.

An image of Bartolomeo lights up the projector screen. It looks like a normal space station module but with large white boxes strapped around it. Like NASA’s version of a UPS facility.

“This is what it will look like when it’s finished. But it’s going to take a lot of international cooperation and spacewalk hours to get it this way,” Dom adds.

Built and tested in Germany’s Aerospace Center, the Bartolomeo platform is a major step toward commercial ISS use in Europe. It’ll expand the International Space Station, positioned under the already-in-use Columbus Laboratory. Bartolomeo was Christopher Columbus’ younger brother’s name. Jackie informed me of that, along with the etymology of all other ISS module names, last time we were all drinking at Big Texas. Some people get sloppy when they’re drunk; Jackie nerds out. That was the night I freaked out at Trish’s trailer.

Shaking off the shameful memory, I study the mock-up of the fully installed Bartolomeo lab. It’s a pretty cool design, and one that will be helpful as American and European space agencies start working with commercial, rather than government funded projects.

Dom clicks to a picture of the Canadarm. “After the Canadians use their robotic arm to move the platform into position, it will take two astronauts to install the electrical from the outside. This will have to be a series of spacewalks, as it’s too large to maneuver around in one go.”

The ironic thing is that in space, space is at a premium. This new lab has twelve different payload slots that companies can use to fund their own experiments, making it great for projects that require more of an open space environment. It even has a research balcony.

“Kincaid, you’ll head up the Bartolomeo team leaving for Germany next month.”

I blink, sure I heard that wrong. “Me?” You apply for lead positions, and I definitely didnotapply for the Bartolomeo lead.

“Yeah.” Dom, busy shutting down his computer, misses the panic-stricken look on my face.

“You guys are dismissed.” Dom snaps his computer closed, glancing up at me. “Except you, Ian. Let’s talk in my office.”

Or maybe he didn’t.

Sighing, I get up, collect my own things, and follow him into his coveted office. Most employees work in the cubicle farms laid out on each level. Some, like Jackie, are lucky enough to have windows. A cubicle I quickly commandeered when she was selected for the new astronaut class.

But Dom’s office has no window. It’s four by five feet of drywall and a solid wood door. A door that when he closes it behind me makes my heart race.

Taking a deep breath, I sit. “So what did you want to talk to me about?” The sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can get out of here.

“I know you hate traveling.”

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