Page 53 of Across the Universe

Bill's eyes shine by the light of the tiki torches, and he tugs on Jo's hand, pulling her up and out of her seat at the patio table. He guides her gently into his lap, wrapping his arms around her as she sinks into him with a sigh, their warm bodies pressed together as they look up at the heavens. Inside the house, their girls talk and laugh as they wash dishes, and from over the fence, they can hear Jimmy's voice mingling with the other boys' voices as they toss a ball around.

Bill presses his lips to the warm skin of Jo's shoulder and kisses her there. "I can't wait to come home," he whispers. "I can't wait."

CHAPTER21

Bill

As expected,he hadn't slept well. Neither had Todd or Vance, by their own admission, and the three of them are each existing on a morning cup of coffee and the nervous intensity of knowing that two of them are about to be launched into orbit inside of a small capsule that needs to dock with another. Bill feels 99% certain that he will captain the mission, given his discussions with Arvin North, but the other spot is up for grabs, and will be determined this morning based on several factors that North is taking into consideration.

"Men." North himself approaches them as they engage in final discussions. "The launch will take place as planned, and this mission will be composed of Booker as commander, with Roman as pilot. Majors, you'll sit this one out and be a flight engineer here in mission control. You'll be fully assisting with ascent and landing. Are we all understanding?"

A chorus of "Yes, sir" comes from the three men, but the minute North leaves them, Vance yanks at his collar angrily, loosening his uniform. His face is red and he looks like a kettle that's about to boil.

"I need a moment," Vance says, storming away.

Bill gets it; he understands the disappointment, and the amount of preparation and anticipation that goes into getting ready for space flight. He watches Vance hit the doors and then turns back to Todd Roman.

"Alright," Bill says, getting down to business. "We've got three hours."

Todd's eyes cut to the door as it slams shut behind Vance, and then he turns right back to Bill. "Got it, commander. Let's get ready."

* * *

Launch is an existentially terrifying experience, with all the expected fears and concerns attached to it that one might expect.Will I live? What if this goes wrong? Will dying for this mission be worth it? What will go through my mind as I die? Will I even know that the end has come?

Bill goes through the pre-flight checks by rote memory, and on some subconscious level, he's fully engaged in each step. He's well aware that a single mistake now can cost so much later on, and he can feel the sweat beading on his temple and the back of his neck as he carries out the necessary preparations.

Before they know it, the countdown begins.This must be what it's like to give birth, Bill thinks, the thought floating into his mind without warning.Something big is about to happen--something life-changing and huge--and there's a point of no return; this mission will be completed, whether or not I give my consent.

"And we have liftoff. Godspeed, men," comes the voice from mission control.

Bill's entire world goes still. He is entirely encapsulated in the single fraction of each second as he lives them, and yet he is floating somewhere outside his body, outside this spacecraft, and observing the entire moment as a movie that he'll watch and replay in his mind repeatedly for the rest of this life.

Before he knows what's happening, they've gone radio silent for a brief moment because of radio antenna positioning, and in that quiet, Bill turns his head to look at Todd through the helmet that provides a pressurized bubble to enable breathing in space. Their eyes reflect the same emotions and sensations back to one another as they realize the magnitude of where they are and what they're doing. Rather than spoiling the moment with platitudes or exclamations shared through their headsets, Bill just gives Todd a gloved thumbs-up, which Todd returns. They both have goofy grins on their faces as Bill turns to the window to look out at Earth below them.

The radio comes to life seconds later, and just like that, they reconnect to mission control and are no longer alone in space.

The sensation of being in space does not get old in the six and a half hours that Todd and Bill cut a path towards the target vehicle, and more than once, Bill finds himself lost in thought, looking out at the scenery. Depending on their orientation, through the window, they alternately see a black sky dotted with stars, and the planet they call home far below, drifting in space like a glowing blue and white marble.

On that marble lives everyone Bill has ever known and loved, even those who are gone are long-buried on that distant planet. He cranes his neck to see the edges of Earth as their orientation changes, saying goodbye to it once again as it disappears from view. Suddenly, the notion of humanity seems much smaller; no longer does it seem implausible to Bill that famous movie stars rub elbows with grocery store clerks; that kings might marry peasants; that any person imaginable is merely another human made of flesh and blood—no better or no worse than any other.

And the idea of living on this floating speck in the sky at the same moment as your beloved—oh! The implausibility and magic of it. He monitors the switches and gauges before him as he thinks about what luck he’s had in his life. To have known and loved and lost a girl like Margaret. To have met and married a centered, capable, beautiful lady like Jo. To work beside and to have feelings for a brilliant, curious, glorious young woman like Jeanie. How can it be wrong to love them all, so long as he loves them differently? Out here—miles from everything, and with a genuine possibility that he won’t return—how can he be sorry for loving and feeling and being human?

“Approaching target,” Todd’s voice says in the headset that’s embedded in Bill’s helmet. From mission control comes confirmation of their location, and Bill centers his thoughts on the task at hand.

“Upon approach, the vehicle must be rotated to line up docking mechanisms and allow initial engagement between the two vehicles,” says a voice in Bill’s ear that he knows to be Vance’s. He thinks for a moment of what Vance is missing and remembers his own feelings of being Earth bound when he’d imagined that he might be the one on an actual mission. However, that mission had ended in a fire that killed two astronauts, sonotgetting chosen ended up being one of the best things that ever happened to Bill. It’s not helpful to think of that now, so he pushes the thought from his mind.

“The TDA’s docking cone should be aligned with the Rendezvous and Recovery of your craft. The R&R will match perfectly with the apparatus, locking into place for the successful mating of the two vehicles.” Vance’s repetition of the textbook definitions of things is unnecessary, but something about it is soothing to Bill. It’s also vaguely sexual, which almost makes him crack a joke like a schoolboy, but he pushes aside the giddiness of the moment and looks ahead at the target vehicle as they approach.

“TDA is in sight,” Bill confirms, moving his body around in his seat to the extent that he can, and trying to get into a comfortable position despite the nearly fifty-pound flight suit, with all of its life-support apparatus. “Gemini approaching target vehicle.”

As they move through space, it all feels like it’s happening in slow motion. The TDA looms large in the distance, and Bill's hands sweat in his gloves. Regardless of how much training he's had on regulating his breathing and keeping his brain focused while in the varied conditions of space, his breaths come faster and heavier, and his eyes focus on the target.

"Nose in line with docking cone. Alter course seven degrees to the left," Bill says, moving his hand ever so slightly on the lever. The spacecraft responds, and the nose of Gemini lines up so the docking latches will connect perfectly.

"Copy that," Vance says from the ground. Bill can hear the anxiety in his voice as he anticipates the next move.

"Rendezvous and Recovery is seconds from connecting with the docking cone," Bill says, giving an update. "We are..." He moves the lever forward so gently that it feels like he's barely moving it. "We are entering the cone."

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