There's No Basketball on Mars by Craig Leener

Author:Craig Leener
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Green Buffalo Press
Published: 2022-04-08T02:10:47+00:00

I Just Want to Go Home

Ihave no idea what possesses me to say those seven words. Maybe it’s something an astronaut is supposed to blurt out moments before he is catapulted to the cosmos strapped inside a tin can sitting atop a massive fireball.

And then my brain determines that I’m so nervous, certain words are flying out of my mouth that I’ve never said before. And since I haven’t said many words in my lifetime, the likelihood of my saying something new in the seconds before liftoff, in purely probabilistic terms, is high.

“You hang in there, Tuckerman,” Stone Godfrey says. “I’ve got the wheel. All you have to do is grind the numbers, and you’ll be a math nerd at the JPL getting coffee and donuts for the scientists again before you know it.”

I’m about to point out that I am one of the scientists and that I’ve never fetched refreshments for anyone, when I hear Pax Booker’s voice come through the radio intercom in my helmet. “Ares Pilgrim, we are at T-minus five minutes and counting. We are go for launch.”

I grip onto the padded arms of my crew seat. Even though I cannot see my knuckles inside my fancy space gloves, I know they’re white.

“Hey, Lawrence, this radio intercom system enables any one of us to speak directly to another crew member aboard the spacecraft.”

Maya’s tendency to engage in needless conversation is ill-timed and unwelcome. “Shut up. I’m trying to concentrate.”

“What if I told you I’ve hacked the intercom system. Heard your entire conversation with Stone Godfrey. Guy’s ever so slightly full of himself, which I suppose is a positive trait for the person flying this thing.”

“You hacked it?”

“Yeah, piece of cake. Hey, remind me to tell you the real reason why I was selected for this mission. It’s kind of top secret, but I will grant you special dispensation to hear the details.”

“Ares Pilgrim, we are at T-minus three minutes and counting. We are go for launch.”

My brain makes a notation to avoid circling back with Maya for the details of her selection. And then I think about all the things that can possibly go wrong once the countdown begins.

Wait, the countdown.

Pax Booker never got back to me on my request to do the countdown.

I glance at the left sleeve of my spacesuit, where there’s a tight grouping of radio intercom switches assembled in a circle at the top of my forearm. I push the button with the words Mission Control on it.

“Sherman Tuckerman to Pax Booker, come in.”

“Tuckerman, what are you doing over there? We’re less than three minutes till launch.” It’s Stone Godfrey, and he’s pissed. My brain determines that the Mission Control button also transmits to the Ares Pilgrim flight deck.

“Hey, Lawrence,” Maya says. “What’s up?”

Apparently, it sends my voice signal to the communications analyst, as well.

“Sherman, this is Pax Booker. What’s on your mind, son?”

I ask Pax Booker about the status of my request to do the countdown. “Remember, I’m uniquely qualified to perform this duty.

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