The Calculating Stars (Lady Astronaut, #1)(80)

Now, two computers would look at the output of the IBM machine’s run to make sure no errors had been introduced. It was fairly straightforward. The first launch went smoothly.

The second launch was manned. No one was treating it as though it were straightforward.

Oh, we were all pretending like it was business as usual, but you could have ignited the atmosphere in the glassed-in viewing area above Mission Control. I wasn’t on duty this shift, but there was no way I was going to miss the launch.

If this launch went smoothly, the astronauts would demonstrate that the lunar module could dock and rendezvous with the command module. We could go back on schedule, and we’d be another step closer to the moon.

If it didn’t, then we’d have killed Derek Benkoski, Halim Malouf, and Estevan Terrazas.

There was a whole range of possibilities in-between, including a launch abort, or just scrubbing for weather. Those lesser evils were not the things filling anyone’s minds as we milled around the viewing area. At T-minus four, the wives and children of the astronauts would be escorted to the roof to watch the liftoff from there. It would also sequester them from the press if things went badly. We all laughed and chattered, pretending that nothing could go wrong.

All of the astronauts and their wives—except Parker’s—had turned out for this one to support the men in the capsule. Mrs. Lebourgeois separated from her husband and floated across the room to me. She was a diaphanous blonde with a long neck like a swan’s and a tendency to purse her lips into a kittenish pout.

But she smiled when she saw me, and came up to give me a kiss on each cheek. “Ah, my dear! Our daughter is still talking of you. Not even her father is so impressive.”

“She should be impressed with him! He’s been in space. I just dream about it.”

“It will not be so long for you, I think.” Her swan’s neck bent down in a curve as she winked. “My husband, he is making me take flying lessons so I can be ready.”

That was optimistic, and more than a little charming. “Has he … heard anything?”

“No.” She pouted. “But he has told Director Clemons that he believes women should be included. I think he just wants to … you know … have his wife in space?”

Her hand covered her mouth as she giggled at what must have been a stunned expression on my face. My mouth hung open a little and then I laughed with her. It had not occurred to me that one tactic would be to appeal to the male astronauts about the benefits of … marital duties in space. “Oh my heavens. Maybe I should try to talk to all the wives.”

“Oh, we talk amongst ourselves.”

“I’ll bet. Have you … have you met Mrs. Parker?”

“No. She is always ‘ill’ with something or another, or busy. I think she just does not want to spend time with foreigners, but who am I to guess, hm?” She gave a little shrug and dismissed the absent woman. “Did you know … the weightlessness, it does, how shall we say, ‘interesting’ things to our husband’s anatomy. The blood flow is quite … unrestricted by gravity.”

“Well, now I want to get my husband into space.” I glanced through the glass window to where Nathaniel stood hunched over his desk. They should really just make his station a standing desk, since he had trouble sitting when he was tense. Which was always.

Wait. I couldn’t hear them. They’d turned the speakers off.

When had they…? Something was wrong. Nathaniel had the phone pressed to his ear and a broken pencil in one hand. Clemons stood at a different phone and was clearly shouting. Randy Cleary, the astronaut manning the CAPCOM desk, was talking into his headset and making soothing gestures with his hands as if the astronauts in the capsule could see him.

The countdown clock had stopped at T-minus twenty-eight.

Other people had noticed and were moving toward the window. Mrs. Lebourgeois caught her husband’s sleeve as he walked past. “ Que se passe-t-il?”

“ Je ne sais pas. Ce ne fut pas une explosion ou nous aurions senti.” He winced and looked at me. “Dr. York can tell you. An explosion we would have felt, is that not so?”

“Yes. It’s probably just a glitch that they’ll get sorted out soon.” I smiled at his wife. “Honest, we have to stop launches all the time. It might just be the weather.”

Except I’d been on the floor when there was a weather scrub, or a cutoff switch failed, or a system didn’t come online as expected. We had procedures and manuals that were inches thick on what to do in every possible contingency. Everyone stayed aggravated but calm. Whatever was happening down there was not routine.

I leaned closer to the glass, looking for Basira, who was on duty for this launch. She was leaning together with Myrtle. Both women had dropped their pencils and looked shocked.

Behind me, Parker spoke. “All right, everyone. There’s no need to be concerned. Nothing is wrong with the rocket.”

I turned, along with most of the rest of the room. He stood next to one of the couches, holding the viewing room’s phone receiver in one hand. I wouldn’t have called down to bother them, but I guess the first man in space had more privileges than I did.

He hung up the phone as we all leaned forward in anticipation. “It’s just a weather delay. Things are in a holding pattern.”

That was a lie. I knew what a weather hold looked like. If it was weather, you’d see a lot of bored engineers spinning in their chairs. I opened my mouth to challenge him, then shut it again. This wasn’t the time.