Page 67 of Space Junk: Houston, We Have a Hottie
My mind sharpens on the task ahead. “Start closing the hatches,” I tell Sean.
When faced with possible impact, closing the hatches between the different sections of the station helps preserve pressure and function to those sections not hit by whatever space junk is headed their way.
“Why start now?” Sean asks. “The EXT is our priority.”
“No, the crew is our priority.”
Sean looks like he might argue, then changes his mind and inclines his head for me to continue.
“I saw the crew when the alarm sounded. They’ve already been on alert since the EXT-1 went down. They’re on edge. Give them something to do other than wait around to build a computer that can never be built. Make them useful by starting emergency evac procedures a little early.” I look around the room. “Meanwhile, we work on the EXT failure from here.”
“You’re right. Crew first,” Sean says. “But why not try and maneuver the ISS away from the debris first? Then start emergency procedures.”
“Because we can’t trust the EXT-2 to take our commands anymore. We don’t know if it will maneuver the station in time, but we can at least minimize damage of any impact and get the crew to safety.”
“When the hatches are closed, do you think they should hunker down in the Soyuz?” someone asks.
If the hatches are closed, the crew will be able to enter the Soyuz, the essential lifeboat of the station, and wait out the collision. If, after the collision, the pressure and life support are damaged, they can return to earth. Or if the EXT-2 fails completely.
“Maybe. But hopefully by then we have a plan in place to get the station back to functioning again,” I answer, my mind already moving on to solving that very problem.
“I’ll get the flight director on console to give the command to start closing the hatches. Meanwhile, you all have thirty minutes to clean the fuck up and start brainstorming a work-around or a fix for this shit storm we’re in.” Sean looks at the clock. “The countdown to evacuation starts now.” He picks up the phone to relay the information to those working in Mission Control.
* * *
I’m being ridiculous.And unprofessional. My usual focus has been damaged by a mean, life-size Barbie.
Nothing Flynn has said or done should make me believe anything Beth said. I mean, yeah, she obviously knows him somehow. And yeah, the thought that she is indeed his ex kinda makes my insides feel small and hollow. But I should at least give him the benefit of the doubt. It isn’t like I told him about my exes. Or ex, rather.
So when I text Trish and ask if everything’s all right and she replies that the police are at Boondoggle’s arresting Rose, I use the mandatory half-hour break Sean ordered to steal Ian’s car.
Technically, I don’t steal it. I leave a note. A note that may have been hidden under a pile of papers I accidentally shuffled across his desk when I grabbed his keys from his drawer. But whatever.
And as an aside—Teslas are sweet. I mean, I’ve been thinking of buying something with a vintage restoration vibe, à la my heroes of the Mercury Seven, but this car could make me switch to commercial.
I pull into Boondoggle’s parking lot and slip out of the car. I’m berating myself for taking time away from work during an emergency, time that I’m pretty sure Sean wanted us to use to shower and dress appropriately. But that all stops when I see Rose sitting on the steps talking to a police officer. I say talking, but really it’s more like flirting. She’s smiling and seems completely unconcerned.
“You gonna use those cuffs, officer? Or are they just for show?” Rose leans back on her elbows and looks up at the officer standing over her.
“Uh, ma’am, I don’t think you’re taking the situation seriously.” He’s young and good looking, and I bet the redness in his cheeks isn’t from the heat.
“Oh, I’m taking it seriously. My attorney is on his way.”
“You have an attorney?” I ask.
Rose’s head snaps in my direction and she’s off her feet and hugging me before I can get the last syllable out.
“Jackie, you okay? What did Beth say to you? Is NASA like, exploding or something?”
“I’m fine. I’m on a break. NASA isn’t exploding, but I don’t have much time. Trish texted me about the cops.” I ignore the Beth question and glance back at Officer Good Looking, who I now see from his name tag is T. Harrington. “What happened?”
“Nothing to worry about,” Rose cuts in.
“Ma’am, you’re being brought up on assault charges from two different women,” Officer Harrington states.
Rose shoots him a look and he suddenly gets really interested in his shoes.
“It’s just a misunderstanding,” Rose tells me.
