Orbital

Sixty-Seven The Pool

The iCosmos training complex is a collection of buildings on the outskirts of Orlando. When I first started here, the program consisted of one muggy warehouse with an honest to goodness blackboard and a cranky Halston Bennet teaching us the fundamentals of not getting killed in space. Now it’s a training center on par with any nation’s.

It’s after hours, but there are a few cars parked in the different lots.

“You mind coming in for a second?” I ask Laney as I pull into a space in front of the pool, where we do our underwater training.

“Sure. The movie isn’t for another hour.”

I take my time getting out so she doesn’t feel like I’m waiting on her.

She’s quick, at the front of the bumper before I realize it. Since I got back I’ve noticed more muscle tone. I think she’s been lifting weights, but know enough about her to not mention it.

We never talk about her condition. I understand a bit and have talked to some doctors to get an idea of what she’s going through. There’s a lot of promising treatments for her kind of MS, but I never discuss them with her. The last thing I want her to think is that I’m evaluating our relationship based on future medical progress.

Jenna Schroeder, the pilot that took me to the Sagan, is waiting for us at the entrance to the building.

Laney’s eyes flash sideways at me and I see a twitch in the corner of her mouth.

God damn, that girl is too smart for me.

Jenna greets Laney with a warm smile. “You all ready to get suited up?”

“You jerk,” Laney says to me.

“Yep. I thought instead of going to the movie we’d put you in a space suit and let you see how you like the underwater experience.”

“I don’t think I can take you seriously enough to take orders from. I mean you tried to make a spacesuit out of duct tape.”

“And lived to tell about it.”

Jenna holds open the door that leads to the massive pool. There’s a row of spacesuits on the far side. Overhead, cranes support entire space station segments waiting to be lowered into the pool.

“Don’t worry,” Jenna says. “I’ll be your instructor tonight. He’ll just be an observer and there to fetch us refreshments. Basically a pool boy.”

Twenty minutes later Laney emerges from the prep room in a skin tight space suit. Jenna has a hand on her elbow, but she’s able to walk without support.

The closest experience for me was when my high school prom date, Monica Reynolds, stepped into the living room in her low cut gown and I saw the startling woman that had been hiding in my math class buddy.

“What’s with that look?” Laney asks, a little red-faced.

I take my phone out and snap a photo before she can protest.

Jenna steps back and assesses Laney, then gives her an approving nod. “Let’s see if you look this good underwater.”

I watch her move around underwater like a natural. On the monitors I observe as she weaves through trusses, opens airlocks and does all the other physical challenges it takes to function in space.

Jenna has her do the entire starter course — the one we use to figure out who is ready to advance to space and who needs to think about a desk job on Earth.

Laney’s impairment with walking is non-existent. Nobody watching her would think this was a girl that ‘disabled’ would apply to. Where her leg locomotion had sometimes failed her, Laney’s upper arm strength and agility more than compensate.

At the hour mark Jenna takes her back to the elevated platform that raises them out of the water.

I get my first look at Laney’s face and can’t contain my pride.

“Why are you smiling?” she asks.

“No reason.”

“Want to get a new oxygen cylinder and explore the US/iCosmos section?” asks Jenna.

“Hell, yes.”

Jenna starts taking off her gear and turns to me. “Time for you to suit up.”

“Me?”

“Don’t worry,” says Laney, “I’ll go easy on you.”

I follow behind her as she pulls herself along the truss that runs the length of the bottom of the pool. Never once does she try to kick her legs or do any kind of swimming motion. She intuitively gets the mechanics of zero-gravity movement.

After chasing after her, as we move through station sections and airlocks, we swim upwards into an observation bubble like the one on the Sagan. This one is special because it has air in it and you can open your helmet.

Laney gently bobs up and down in front of me. There’s a grin on her face.

I slide my visor open and she does the same.

“Think you could get used to this?” I ask.

“Possibly.”

I move closer until our chest plates touch. Laney wraps her arms around my waist. I put my hands on her hips.

“What about this?”

I tilt my head to the side and kiss her on the lips — not easy to do with a helmet, but we manage. Laney’s lips part and she holds me tighter.

After a breathless minute she pulls back. “Yeah, I think I can get used to that.”

She shuts her visor and dives back into the station, managing to slap me on the ass on her way down.

This girl.