CHAPTER ONE
"Fifteen minutes to docking."
The launch five hours earlier had gone exactly as planned, still it had taken almost an hour for my heart rate to get down to normal. Through the front window of the capsule, I now could see the spaceship "Ulysses", where we would spend the next ten years. My eyes went to the three women I was traveling with.
Commander Arya Hassini was leading our mission. A tall woman with shoulder-long almost black hair, her shapely breasts almost hidden by her coverall, her skin a light brown and her eyes almost black. Arya was a rare beauty, perhaps because her four grandparents were from four countries on three continents. At 36, she was the oldest of us, and already one of NASA's more experienced astronauts. A part from leading the mission, her main responsibility would be the spaceship Ulysses, she was our generalist and our official pilot, although in an emergency we could all fill that role.
Amanda Harrison was much shorter, the daughter of a German banker and a Kenyan economist. She was beginning to become quite well known in the astrophysics community by the time she was selected for the astronaut program. She was dark brown, with black curly hair showing her African descent. Although she cared little about her looks, I had not failed to notice how stunning she looked in the gym or on the running track. En route, Amanda would be maintaining the health of the engines, and together with Arya keep the rest of the ship running smoothly. At our destination, she would be the first astrophysicist to get a close look at another star.
I then looked at Sara Sigurdardottir's beautiful face. Her pale, almost milky-white skin with a few freckles and her red curly hair made her look very Irish, but as her name hinted she was actually Iceland's first astronaut. She was slim, and her coverall totally failed to hide that she was positively stacked. I had seen her dancing naked at a wild party some five years ago, and knew that the hair between her legs were as red as on her head. She, too, had an engineering background, but was also trained in biology and horticulture. During the long flight her gardens would keep us healthy and the air oxygenated. And if against all odds we would find life at Epsilon Eridani, she would become the founder of the science of exobiology.
I was the fourth crew member, and second-in-command of this mission. My name is Theophilus Pius Amadeus Zonk, but for obvious reasons I am only known as Theo. I have never quite forgiven my parents that name, apparently they though it would assure me an illustrious career as one of the world's leading theologist. Now they joked that I would instead visit God in person. I am the mission's geologist and planetary scientist, but also the backup engine physicist. Along the way, I will assist Amanda in maintaining the main engines (and save our asses if something happens to her), but at our destination I will study the planets, and together with Sara evaluate if any of them can be terraformed for future colonization.
NASA would of course have preferred a crew with both genders represented equally, but they had to ensure the correct scientific qualifications as well as psychological compatibility, the latter being the most difficult. During the last phase of the selection process, we had been eight male and eight female astronauts training together. In the end, the guys in Qualitative Psychology had announced that we four were the team with the highest chance of success - probably defined as not killing each other after ten years together on a spaceship. I would have been comfortable going with any of the candidates, but if I could have chosen myself, I too would have chosen these three women.
"Five minutes to docking," Arya announced. Formally, she was docking the capsule though in reality she was supervising the computerized docking. An hour later, we were inside the Ulysses, where we were received by the three technician astronauts who had been spending two weeks on board the Ulysses preparing her for launch. Although it had already been a long day, we spent the next couple of hours inspecting the Ulysses with them. Their time was offset from ours, so they would stay awake while we slept, finishing their last tasks, before leaving us early next morning.
Finally, we floated towards the "bedroom". It was designed to work both under gravity and in zero-g. There were four bunks, the two lower ones were fixed in horizontal position, we would sit on them during the day (when under gravity, at least). The two upper ones could fold down during night, and up during day. But they folded in such a way that the upper side was outside. With the engine off, we were in zero gravity did not need to fold them down, Sara and Amanda would instead "sleep on the wall".
Mission Control had told us to stay in our daytime clothes for the first night. That was a bit unusual, but we were too tired to speculate why. We pulled the nets over us which would prevent us from floating out of the beds, and lowered the lights. I knew that the nets were designed to easily accommodate two in each bed, and I hoped that once we were under way we would often be sharing beds. But there were time enough for that, and tonight the technicians were still on board.
CHAPTER TWO
Next morning, the three technicians left, leaving us alone in the spaceship that would be our home for the next decade. An hour later, the second-to-last unmanned supply container arrived, and we spent an hour stowing the supplies. It was highly unusual that supplies arrived after the astronauts, but a fire at the launch facility had delayed the launches. Since our departure could not be delayed, this was the only way - and honestly it was no big deal.
Two hours later I was going over the main engine with Amanda as we heard Arya's voice on the speakers: "All hands report to the bridge for an emergency conference with Mission Control".
As we hurried towards the bridge, a quote from Harry Potter floated to my mind. "We might get killed, or worse yet expelled!" I understood what Hermione had felt when she said that. An emergency conference was bad news indeed. We arrived at the bridge only moments after Sara. Simon from Mission Control was on the screen. He looked grave.
"I have bad news," he announced. "The minilauncher taking your last supply container into orbit failed explosively fifteen seconds after launch. Nobody was hurt, but even cutting all the corners we can, it will be four days before we can launch a replacement. Your launch window closes in three days."
We all knew what that meant. We needed both the Moon and Jupiter in position for the gravity assist maneuver, if we missed the launch window the next chance would be in over two years. And then there would be no guarantee whatsoever that any of us would be on board.
Arya maintained her composure and asked, "Was the content necessary for the mission?"
"Spaceflight is expensive. Nothing we bring aboard the Ulysses is unnecessary. But this was the last container; you will miss it badly but it will not threaten your lives." I hardly believed my eyes. Simon was blushing, and he positively looked embarrassed.
Arya clearly saw that too. "Exactly WHAT was in that last container?"
Simon's face got positively crimson. "You clothes. All the clothes you need for your ten year mission."
"Seriously? Are you saying that we only have the clothes we are wearing right now?"
"I am afraid so. And after a year, they will look very worn. Some time during the second year they will fall apart. You may be able to use the remains to cover your modesty for another six month or so, but by then you will essentially be left to complete you mission and return to Earth naked.
"A slightly better option is to pack your clothes away as soon as the post departure press conference is over, and only put them on for the occasional video recording. You will essentially spend the next ten years naked, but you will be dressed when you return to Earth. And when this fiasco leaks to the press, we can assure senator Cowlenn that if you meet alien intelligent life, you will represent Earth decently dressed."
In spite of the situation, we all had to smile. James Cowlenn was a complete crackpot, but he unfortunately still held some influence in the Senate.
"Arya, we have to either cancel the launch or carry on without your clothes." Simon continued. "The Quantitative Psychology department have run this through their computer models. Not having your clothes increases the risk of a serious fall-out among the crew from around 20 percent to 30 percent, and the risk of the mission failing due to conflict increases from three to four percent. That is still well within acceptable parameters.