The Calculating Stars (Lady Astronaut, #1)(32)

“Speak for yourself.” Helen ran her hands down her flight suit, which accentuated her boyish figure.

“Seriously, though. I thought they were trying to establish colonies.”

Nodding, I avoided any of the things Nathaniel had hinted at. “They’ll be doing a formal announcement of the list at a press conference next week.”

Betty perked up and grabbed for her bag. “You don’t say.” She pulled out her reporter’s notepad.

I cleared my throat. “Obviously, I don’t say, but someone with a tie to a major newspaper would probably be invited, and—”

“Nuts.” She glared at the pad. “They’ll probably give it to Hart. He’s getting all the prime international stuff. I swear to God, if I have to cover one more garden club—”

“You’ll do it, and be grateful for the paycheck.” Pearl twisted her gloves in her hands.

Betty sighed. “You could have at least let me rant a little longer before bringing reality into this.”

“The thing is—” I cut in, pointing my cookie at Betty. “Do you think he’ll notice an all-male list?”

She narrowed her eyes, and I could see her formulating the pitch she’d use with her editor. “Can I cite you as a source at the IAC? Not by name.”

“I … I don’t want to get … um … my source in trouble.”

Betty snatched the cookie out of my hand. “If you think that little of my—”

I snatched it back and crumbs went flying. Laughing, I popped the tart morsel into my mouth. “I just want to make sure the parameters are clear.”

“Parameters confirmed.” She grabbed her flight jacket and stood. “Shall we fly?”

“Absolutely.” I tucked another cookie into the pocket of my flight jacket and glanced at Helen. “Going up with me, or one of the other girls?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

My little Cessna 170b could carry four people. Betty had a Texan, but it wasn’t any good for conversation, so she decided that, given the topic, she’d start with us, so we didn’t have to use the radio to talk. We piled into the cockpit, and put the conversation on hold while I went through the preflight checklist.

There is something magic about takeoffs. I know people who are afraid of flying who say that the takeoffs and landings are the only hard parts, perhaps because that’s when the act of flying is most apparent. I love the way you get pushed back into your seat. The weight and the sense of momentum press against you and the vibrations from the tarmac hum through the yoke and into your palms and legs. Then, suddenly, everything stops and the ground drops away.

It never feels like I’m rising, but that the ground is falling away from me as if I were light as air. Maybe that’s what frightens people? Or maybe I’m not frightened because my dad flew with the Air Force when it was still part of the Army, and had taken me on my first plane ride when I was two years old. I’m told that I laughed the entire flight. Clearly, I don’t remember that. I do remember begging him to do barrel rolls when I got a little older.

Most kids? Their dad teaches them to drive. Mine taught me to fly.

Anyway. Once we were up in the air, I turned us in a lazy spiral away from the airfield, just to get a feel for the air today. Betty sat in the copilot seat, with Helen behind us.

Betty turned to address both of us, shouting a little over the engine. “All right. Flight Club rules are in effect. Am I right that they want to turn the moon into a military base?”

“From all the things Nathaniel isn’t saying, I think it’s actually that women are too emotional to go into space.”

Betty shook her head, and I’m fairly certain she cursed under the sound of the airplane. “Right. This is hogswallow, and we need to change it.”

“How?” Helen leaned forward in her seat.

“I can pitch this to my editor as discrimination, but that’s not going to take if I can’t also talk about some of the women who were passed over.” She looked at me. “I can do it in ways that won’t make my sources clear, and … and I can also prime Hart to ask the question and bring it front and center at the press conference.”

I glanced sideways at her. “How? I mean … that feels very direct.”

“Mr. President, with an all-male astronaut corps, is there a danger that the Communist bloc will perceive this as a military outpost rather than a colony?”

Helen raised her hand, as if to remind us that she was from Taiwan. “He’ll counter with international cooperation.”

I nodded. “We’ve got people at the IAC from Taiwan, Algeria, Spain, Brazil, France, Germany, Serbia, Haiti, the Congo…”

Helen chimed in, “Belgium, Canada, Denmark, France, Iceland, Italy, Luxembourg, the Netherlands, Norway, Portugal, the United Kingdom…”

“And the U.S.”

Betty shook her head. “And none of those are Communist countries.”

“Okay … but it still doesn’t talk about the hysteria aspect.”

“No, but it does highlight the all-male astronaut corps, and that gives us leverage for a follow-up about why there are no women.” She snorted. “And it’s an election year. Eisenhower is running against Brannan, so I’m going to bet money, right now, that a return to ‘normalcy,’ with women relegated back to being ‘homemakers,’ is going to be a key election issue.”