"Selene...CapCom," Sage's voice was calm enough to make all the rocket geeks in Houston's Mission Control stiff in their
Man Zones.
She had learned a certain segment of the ground control team seemed to be amused with their coining of that nickname for their cocks. They were not particularly repulsive geeks, she decided but they were not as amusing as they wished they were. "We're coming around for the end of orbit two and the Secondary Cooling system is giving us some fluctuation on the temp numbers. How's it reading on your end?"
"Copy, Chica. Give the gang a minute to do that voodoo that they do so well and we'll let you know what we have for you." Sage grinned. The Secondary cooling unit was identical to their Primary and if one was having issues, she reasoned, the other might also. Vaughan tapped the multicolor display screen showing the temperature fluctuation as if that would fix it. "SpaceApe, you're the Engineer. That's your best idea? Pendejo..."
Sage rolled her brown eyes sarcastically, laughing at him. Dane made uttered a few quick ape grunts and Adriana laughed a bit louder. Since she finished her on-camera tour of their confined little Command Module, it had been routine business for them as the Earth rotated past their small view ports in a blaze of startling colors.
"Adriana..." CapCom's voice buzzed in their com caps with more hissing static than earlier, "The Secondary boys say your cooling loop may have a few bubbles in it. Blip the RCS thrusters a few times and it should settle out."
"You mean I get to do some of that pilot stuff?" Sage grinned into the camera between her feet as she replied. "NASA is going to let this L.A. STEM Chica drive their toy?" Dane gave her a Thumbs Up and grinned. Mission Control had evolved from earlier mission days to be almost in singular control of every aspect of a mission. Vaughan and Sage were aware by the last Shuttle missions, the only time astronauts were in hands on control would be during the final sixty seconds before a shuttle's wheels touched a runway. It was purely for a Mission Commander's ego. The Flight Management Systems were not quite able to put the shuttle's nose wheel precisely on the runway center line. Adriana understood the Macho Pilot culture among astronauts insisted they be allowed to manually guide the vehicle themselves onto the dotted white center line. Even a Chica like her wanted as much control as she could get.
Otherwise,
Sage teased herself.
She may seize the only stick she could control in the CM. Vaughan's stiff cock!
With a gloved hand on the Pilot's Reaction Control System stick, Adriana began maneuvering the Command Module. She rotated the controller left, rolling the CM left in her perspective. Earth rolled noticeably in the frame of her triangular port. Her gut rolled even further triggering an audible reaction from her. Self-Consciously, Sage panicked. Fearing she would spew her stomach contents inside her closed helmet, she reacted by rotating the controller back the other way.
Wrong idea, Chica...
"Be easy with that, Adriana." Dane advised calmly, "Gentle commands. This isn't an F-18." Too quickly, Sage pushed the controller forward and the vehicle
felt
as if it were nosing down into a dive. Her insides shifted heavily and weirdly to the right eliciting another involuntary groan from Sage. She hissed at herself in frustration,
"Pendejo..."
"Switch it back to Auto mode," Vaughan quietly advised. "It will self-correct, Adriana." She was anxiously hoping to avoid two events as she selected the flight mode Dane recommended. Hopefully, MedCom would not intercede and hopefully she would retain her last meal inside her stomach.
Christ,
Sage realized with a shock,
my cuca is hot, wet and hungry...FUCK!
"Sage...CapCom," Her voice quavered as she spoke. "How do the numbers look? I think that should fix it, Copy?" Sage was praying she was successful. Vaughan gave her an encouraging look and one of his unworried grins. No wonder she longed to take his cock inside her. She could ride that Surfer Boy all day, she admitted to herself. Her Flight Surgeon was so concerned about stress, she griped to herself, a friendly little lap fuck would relieve all hers.
Vaughan was hiding his apprehension behind his characteristic
What, me worry
grin. He was hoping to hear a voice from MedCom filling their headphones with a directive to call it a day. He was guessing Sage was on the brink of showing the numerous cameras around them what the contents of her stomach were. That would not be a fun experience, he fretted. Not only would it be a smelly mess to wipe up but in space, puking like a drunk Sorority girl was a physically exhausting event to endure. He feared Adriana would be too worn out to be of any use for several hours.
"Adriana, we're good with it down here." CapCom hurriedly responded. Sage exhaled slowly, rolling her eyes in obvious relief as Dane. "And we're getting a take a break notice from MedCom for you two. You've done a lot in just a short time. Yeah, Chica. Take an early checkout and we will be back with you again at the scheduled start time for your second day, copy?"
Sage laughed in relief as she visibly unwound. She knew her BIS sensors would report her reaction immediately. This was an instance she hardly stressed over. Her pressure suit with its related accoutrements were torture to deal with. She was amazed at her sudden flagging stamina. Her breathing cadence was thunderously loud and dry sounding to her. Her aching butt and weirdly cramping lower abdomen were lowering her endurance, Sage confessed to herself.
Christ, can I please just have a friendly little cock session and a nap?
Adriana fought the urge to speak her thoughts out loud. Her clit was sending out a warm nagging desire for relief. She was unable to hold back a desperate whispered confession, "How I would love to ditch these suits."
"MedCom would probably suggest your Pink and Purples, Adriana." Vaughan replied. They had been equipped with a pair of data pad tablets each. One was to be used for reporting their mission via social media while their second tablets were supposedly for secure communication with NASA—particularly, MedCom and their Flight Surgeons. Dane believed the
secure
promise was iffy. Hackers, he ruminated, could get into anything it seemed. NASA zealously maintained a cloak of secrecy when it came to the actions and health of their astronauts. Spaceflight in a cramped can such as theirs had proven to be the spawning ground of stress related reactions that were both explosive and weird, sometimes.
During one of the Apollo missions, he had discovered, a clumsy slip when an astronaut had retired behind the seats into the basement for an urgent bowel movement. The slip entailed him missing the collection bag completely and resulted in a turd the size of two fists floating forward to terrorize the other two astronauts. Their reaction was to repeatedly punch and threaten their crewmate. It was an early motivation for pharmaceuticals like Adriana's Pink and Purples. Stress and other forms of mental and emotional duress became nightmarishly frightening in space, Vaughan was told. He had seen the secret video of the floating shit incident and the veracity of the two other astronauts in reacting was genuinely life threatening. His training had also included being shown some covertly acquired video of Soviet Cosmonauts and their reactions to sudden unexpected events.
The Soviets had a publicly known reputation for being reckless, in NASA's official managerial opinion. The videos he and Sage were shown had gone beyond reckless in their unified opinion. Russians had little respect of tolerance for foreign Cosmonauts they were partnered with. In the seventies and eighties, there were several incidents that had nearly resulted in the death of Russians during their missions. It was not uncommon for a Soviet Cosmonaut to brutally punch a foreign mission partner as he screamed angrily at them.
There were more than a few rumors, Sage and Vaughan had learned, claiming the Soviets had in the late nineties, put a manned mission successfully on the Moon but they had never returned and nothing was known of their fate. There was a slew of such bullshit tales on the internet, Dane knew. He and Adriana discounted them but she had confessed she was on the fence regarding one Lunar mission and the fate the crew suffered.
"If we find dead Russians up there," Dane had told her. "We'll probably have to keep quiet about it." He understood and hoped Sage did that the Russians were never pleased to have their mistakes exposed. Sage had answered him with a look that wordlessly showed what she believed. There were no dead Cosmonauts on the Moon. She spoke in a tone matching her doubtful look.
"There may be some conked out Russian robot rovers up there but they never put people on the Moon, SpaceApe. That's all Net crap."
"That's probably true," Vaughan began answering in a serious voice but suddenly grinned, made weird sounds demonstrating his true thoughts and continued." But we're heading for a small unknown crater on the backside of the Lunar surface. Most of the time, it's hiding in the shadows of surrounding larger craters so,
who knows what weirdness awaits, Space Chica?"
Sage delivered a rapid series of teasing slaps on his arms and chest reacting to his humor.
"If anyone is up there," Adriana shot back with feigned temper. "They're not just dead, they're freeze dried for eternity."
A sudden tone in her com cap roused Sage from her musing over past conversations. It was a tone she recognized as an audio announcement of a message sent to her secured personal data tablet. Adriana bet herself it was from her Flight Surgeon. She was betting her doctor was requesting a written status report, a
StatRep
in MedCom patois. Half-joking to herself, Adriana wondered how she should document her lingering fixated interest in her clit and the lingering awareness of her sensitive areola and her moist heated labial lips. Her
woman
areas were certainly making themselves known, seemingly with each passing moment.