The RIght Stuff 2069

Danya groaned under the weight of the heavy equipment that she lugged across the tarmac. It felt like a metaphor for her life. One spent under the burden of following other people’s suggestions, which led to this dead end, working at a military air airfield in North Dakota. As she lamented her eight years in the Air Force, she gazed up at the stars flickering in the pitch black sky, and let her mind wander.

She turned to her crewmate, Greg. “What sound do eagles make? Do they caw, or chirp, or…?”

Greg's gaze remained focused on his equipment. “Don’t know. Never thought about it.” 

“Or do they sing, tweet, or cluck?”

“Never thought about it. You’re too smart for this, Danya. Why are you in the military anyway?”

“When I saw the recruitment ads, it sounded fun to be on a mission, and not to spend all my time, you know…” She hesitated, and left out mating like animals. Experience had taught her it was best to keep quiet about such topics.

Greg nodded knowingly though she suspected he had no idea what she was talking about.

Unlatching the refueling hose from an aging C130, she moaned, “I don’t think I can take another day of this.” 

“I hear you,” Greg replied nonchalantly.

“I’m serious!” she blurted out, letting desperation seep into her voice.

In the past, Danya would often pitch ideas to Greg that with his Great Plains reticence, would dismiss as not worth fretting over. But today, Greg turned to her, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, and said, “If you’re game, I have an idea.”

“Greg has an idea…” she teased, her heart racing with curiosity.

What he proposed was the wildest plan she ever heard. Yet, there was a sincerity in his voice, and he had a connection. He was extending charity, something she didn’t like to accept, but unlike the other men in the military, she knew his help wasn’t attached to unwanted sexual advances. They had worked together long enough for her to know.

“Trust me,” he said.

She found herself nodding.

Three weeks later, Danya found herself aboard a plane headed to Edwards Air Force base. As the aircraft lifted off, Greg gave her the tiniest of North Dakota nods, one she knew was an acknowledgment of their eighteen months together refuelling planes, unacknowledged and under appreciated .

As she stepped off the plane in California, she was met by an officer in dress uniform who gave hey a formal salute. “Private Danya, this way,” he said, and ushered her into an auditorium where dozens of young soldiers were gathered. They looked as nervous and excited as she felt.

As the lights dimmed, a screen in front of them flickered to life. President Kamala’s voice echoed through the room, delivering her famous farewell speech of 2032: “In the history of manned space flight, only twelve white men have walked on the Moon. Today, I announce a plan to change that!” The audience applauded.

The image of the twelve men faded into a colourful montage of 48 young soldiers of different races and genders. She surmised they were the people she was with in the room. The contrast with the previous mission was vast, and she was excited to be part of it.

General Johnson, a famous general, highly decorated from his service in the Ukraine War, stood behind the podium. In his powerful voice, he declared, “Moon 2069. There have been 37 years of challenges,” he dropped his voice on the word ‘challenges’, which Danya translated tobdelays, red tape and budget overruns. “But now, we are here, on the cusp of our great mission. You have the right stuff to change it the history of humankind.”

Danya felt something she longed for her whole life but rarely experienced: being important. She applauded as loudly as anyone else in the room.

The following three months of training were electric. Each day started at dawn, and continued until late at night. Drills, classes, and physical fitness activities filled every minute of her existence. Here, unlike in North Dakota, every member of the training class matched her curiosity and drive. A psychologist from Stanford guided them through team-building exercises, fostering their camaraderie.

Despite the Moon 2069 program’s seemingly unlimited resources, the remnants of SpaceX logos clung to the training center’s walls. The company was nationalised after Elon Musk sent Xi Jinping a Tesla for his birthday. Aiding and abetting the enemy, a senate committee had concluded.

So many things had led to this moment–12 trillion dollars spent over decades, to deliver a diverse group of astronauts to the moon on the 100th anniversary of the original moon landing.

She understood the program was expensive. Her mother at complained about it during their telephone calls, lamenting the rising taxes and inflation that made life difficult for everyone. School teachers couldn’t afford to repair their cars or go to the dentist. It was hard to listen to, but as the date of the launch approached, her mother’s tone mellowed. “The country spending a trillion dollars to send my daughter to the moon. Who would have thought? I’m proud of you.”

Two days before launch, General Johnson sat in his office awaiting their daily briefing. After a crisp salute, Danya took a seat, trembling in anticipation from the conversation ahead.

The general spoke first. “Private Danya, I’ve heard through the grapevine you are having second thoughts,” he murmured in his baritone voice. “I’m here to tell you, after you complete this mission, you will be an example for asexual people all over the world.” 

“So they can all walk on the moon?” she asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.

“The Moon 2069 mission is important to the current president.”  

The closer the mission came, the more Danya had contemplated what her goal really was.

“I respectfully decline the mission, and I would like to be reassigned,” she said firmly.

The General slumped in his chair, disappointment etched across his features. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”

Before she could respond, she felt a sudden grip on her shoulders, then a pinprick in her arm. The following days blurred into a haze. She recalled listening to politicians’ speeches and seeing the blurry faces of her teammates. 

A deep rumbling jolted her awake. She blinked under the bright lights, then realized she was strapped into her launch chair. Her teammates, Stella and Marco, sat beside her, their faces tense. The thundering vibrations of the Ascendant Rocket rumbled beneath them. She lifted her hand to attract their attention, to say she wasn’t supposed to be there, when the takeoff force of 10G pushed her arm back down.

**

Ending #1:

She resented being sedated, but once the mission had begun, her instincts to help her team members kicked in, and she played along.

A week later, Danya found herself on the set of the Morning Brew Show, the bright lights and cameras capturing her every move. She smiled and told the audience how amazing the experience of the moon mission was.

Once the mission was over, General Johnson had told her had a choice, she could return to North Dakota, or she could fly from city to city, staying at the best hotels, give interviews and school commencement addresses, and never have to work another day in her life. The life of a politician, he said. She rejected the offer, until the General said her mother could join.

Ending #2:

After installing Moon Base 2069, they received a video transmission from NASA. 

President Kamala’s face from decades ago filled the screen, and she began speaking solemnly. “I regret to inform you the government used the LGBTQIA mission as a cover story, as the best way we could allocate enough money for this project without creating panic. The fake news you have undoubtedly heard, is true. The earth will be struck by an asteroid in 2070, ending all human life. You are our last hope to carry on. Good luck.”

The weight of the words settled heavily on Danya’s shoulders.