Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Categories:
Fandom:
Relationship:
Characters:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Collections:
Yuletide 2022
Stats:
Published:
2022-12-18
Words:
6,391
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
4
Kudos:
10
Hits:
188

Now, Later, Soon

Summary:

In November of 1992, Molly Cobb needs President-elect Ellen Wilson's help fixing the mess she's made of the Mars Mission Command. But it's hard for Ellen to forget their bitter parting 10 years ago on the Moon. An action romantic screwball comedy of remarriage (metaphorically speaking) - see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Comedy_of_remarriage CW: Helicopter Crash, Extras Die.

Notes:

Work Text:

November 15th, 1992, Houston and Washington D.C.:

 

“Larry? Why are you answering Ellen’s phone?”

“Um, who is this?”

“It’s Molly. Put Ellen on; we need to talk.”

“Molly….Cobb?”

“Yes, of course Molly Cobb, you dumbass!”

“Molly…Ellen just got elected President two weeks ago. She’s kinda busy? Also, it’s 10:00 PM!”

“Election’s over! Congratulations, by the way, Mr. First Gentleman. But yeah, that’s why I waited to bother her till now, but she’s got a break now before she actually does all that running-the-country jazz, and I…” Molly’s voice grew quieter, and more uncertain for a brief second, “I need her help.”

“Look, I….fine, you’ve got about thirty seconds, but then she’s got to get some sleep before tomorrow’s meetings,” Larry sighed. There was a brief pause, and then Molly heard the voice of a woman she hadn’t seen in person for nearly ten years.

“Molly?” Ellen’s voice, wavering for a moment and dropping the polished confidence Molly heard from the television screen so often these days. “What is it?”

“I need to talk to you. About NASA, and me, and Mars.” Molly blurted.

“Oh,” Ellen sounded disappointed, somewhat to Molly’s surprise. “Look…that's more than a 30 second conversation.”

“I know – I figured, um, maybe I could fly up to DC for drinks?” Molly answered.

“Literally every moment of the next month is scheduled for meetings with future Cabinet members or Senators who think they can dictate my agenda, Molly,” Ellen retorted. There was a long pause, and Molly feared this had all been a waste of everyone’s time, till Ellen spoke again, with a more encouraging note in her voice. “Wait. How’s Thanksgiving?”

“You’re…inviting me to talk shop over Thanksgiving dinner?” Molly said in surprise.

“Not exactly. I’m going to visit the troops in Saudi Arabia for Thanksgiving – hush-hush surprise visit due to security reasons. Anyhow….a lot of the soldiers in hospital are dealing with some pretty serious head and eye injuries; the Pentagon refused to believe Hussein would actually use his nerve gas until it was too late. They could use a visit from an astronaut hero who’s also blind, and you’d get ten hours on my campaign plane there and back and some helicopter rides to make your case, whatever it is,” Ellen responded.

“Aww, Ellen, y’know how I hate the rubber chicken circuit,” Molly complained.

“This isn’t giving a speech at a banquet to some investment bankers with more money than brains or guts, Molly!” Ellen answered with some anger. “These are young women and men just like the ones you’ve been training for years, except they were on Earth protecting civilians and our country’s interests. They’re now trying to comprehend a future where they’ll never be able to see or walk again. You might just give them some hope, if you don’t spend the visit yelling at them for their poor flying skills.”

“Fine, but I’m bringing Ollie,” Molly demanded. “You got some good dog treats on your fancy plane?”

“I’m sure my steward can arrange something. My secretary will contact you to make the arrangements. See you in a few weeks, Molly,” Ellen, tiredness clear in her voice, hung up the phone.

Molly leaned back in the bathtub and stretched her arms. Wayne kept begging her not to use the phone in the tub, even if was wireless – he was always so worried about what might possibly go wrong, especially since she couldn’t see any hazards easily. But it had always been her favorite place in their apartment, for so many varied activities….and it wasn’t like she needed to dress up for work these days.

Guess it was time to dig out something that wasn’t a towel or covered with rust and paint stains, though. Not for Ellen, she reassured her stubborn heart, of course not for Ellen. For the soldiers – they did deserve her best. She closed her eyes, and thought about the last time she and Ellen had seriously talked.

 

May 15th, 1983 – Jamestown Moon Base, Independent Lunar Research Module 3B

 

Ellen Wilson, proud Commander of Jamestown Moon Base, woke up when she was quite literally kicked out of the pod by her restless sleeping partner and then bounced gently to the ground under the effects of Moon gravity. She once again wondered if she should tell Margo that they needed some actual two-person sleeping pods up on the Moon. It was bad enough in the main base, but out in some of the smaller research modules, the pods were barely two meters by half a meter in size, and the lower gravity didn’t help. Of course, if she requested the upgrade she’d have to explain to Margo just why she was aware of how tight a squeeze the pods were for two, and that would be, well, rather awkward – and likely career-ending. She glanced back into the pod at her lover, who, despite her small size, was still somehow managing to sprawl now across the entire bunk - Ellen’s own bunk – and lightly snoring.

“Molly! You kicked me out of the bunk!” she whispered, shaking her gently.

“You shoulda kicked me right back, El. Stand up for yourself!” Molly mumbled as she slowly opened her eyes, giving a wry grin and zipping up her overalls.

“Yes, that’s clearly my problem,” Ellen retorted.

“So, did ya enjoy your early birthday present?” Molly leered.

Ellen blushed deeply as she secured the top of her own suit.  “Yes, Molly, you remain expert at everything. But it’s almost time to finish the observations and head back to the main module.”

“Right!” Molly blinked herself awake, straightening up into the committed astronaut that she was, despite her casual attitudes. “Is Dish #4 still crooked, or giving us reliable data finally?”

“It’s fine,” Ellen reassured, “but actually…before we go back to the others, I really thought we should talk.”

“What do we need to talk about?” Molly answered warily.

“Well, us.”

“Whaddaya mean, us?” Molly stiffened and moved fully out of the bunk.

“We’ve been lovers for almost a year now, Molly! It’s been inappropriate already given that technically I’m your commanding officer, but at least nobody really expects me to be giving you orders most of the time anyhow. But I’m heading back to Earth in two weeks, and you in another six months. What are we going to tell Larry and Wayne? How do you want to handle this?” Ellen answered. She’d been practicing this in her head, trying to come up with the right words for something that had started without much conversation or formal acknowledgment, sparked by a relieved hug after a tense mission. It had persisted over the last year as a relationship driven by circumstance and spontaneity.

“Don’t see why they’d ever need to know,” Molly shrugged, slightly defensively.

“But...I don’t want to lie to them! I told you – Larry and I have an arrangement. He’s known about my…other relationships, and I have to encounter his pretty frequently.”

“Yeah, and I told you that Wayne’s never believed in the, what does he call them, ‘patriarchal shackles of marriage,’ anyway. But no, we don’t tend to share those details – though I do wonder sometimes about him and Karen Baldwin! Anyways, what happens on the Moon stays on the Moon – not like there aren’t plenty of other folks up here doing things they wouldn’t down on the ground. Did I tell you I caught Wubbo trying to grow pot again?”

Ellen’s heart was sinking. “But…don’t you want to keep being with each other back home? I…thought we had more than just a “friends-with-benefits” kinda thing. I…I love you Molly, crazy and reckless as you are.” She started putting on the full suit to drive back safely to the main base.

Molly sighed, and reached over and thumped Ellen on the shoulder, clearly uncomfortable. “El, look. Of course, I care about you – we’ve been through hell and back over the years. And you are damn fine in the sack and I don’t think your tongue owes all of its success to lunar gravity. But we both know that the job’s always going to come first for both of us. Yeah, I may rotate back to JSC in six months, but I’m scheduled for the space station next year, and starting training for Mars after that. The likelihood we’re even on the same planet is always gonna be low, so I don’t really see how it makes sense to try and nail this whole thing down. Maybe we’ll be the first women to fuck on Mars someday, though!”

“The job doesn’t always come first for me, Molly. I’m not even sure I’m going to stay in NASA. But I guess you never bothered listening to me long enough to figure that out. In thirteen years, this is the only time I’ve ever seen you act like a coward. But fine. See you back at Jamestown,” Ellen clapped her helmet on and strode, admittedly awkwardly, out the airlock, slamming the button that closed the lock behind her.

“Wait, El…” Molly shouted, before realizing it was too late and Ellen could no longer hear her. She sighed. “Well, damn. That could have gone better.”

 

November 26th, 1992: Wilson Campaign Plane, King Abdul Aziz Air Force Base, Saudi Arabia.

 

Molly reached down to scratch Ollie’s ears. It had been a long, dull plane flight. For all that Ellen had said it would offer them time to talk, in practice the President-Elect had greeted her briefly on the runway in the pre-dawn hours and then spent the flight surrounded by noisy aides asking her opinion on a hundred different matters from the forthcoming peace negotiations with Iraq to the color of the new Oval Office curtains. Apparently, the sticking point was where the border would be drawn and whether Hussein could remain in power in Iraq. It sounded like the former Kuwaiti territory would ultimately be divided between Iraq and the Saudis. Ellen didn’t sound happy with this outcome, but the U.S. had little negotiating power there since Hart had already refused to defend Kuwait when Iraq first invaded, only stepping in to defend Saudi Arabia itself once Hussein fully crossed those borders. Molly tried not to be disgruntled by the lack of attention to her and instead focused on trying to sleep – she’d learned long since in NASA to sleep anywhere and everywhere, when the circumstances permitted.

Suddenly, she heard a once-familiar voice leaning down next to her seat. “I know that slouch,” Ellen murmured, more teasingly and affectionately than Molly might have expected. “You’re not really asleep; you’re just trying to ignore people who might annoy you.” Ollie barked lightly in response, apparently agreeing with Ellen. “That’s right, isn’t it Ollie? Is your job now to chase away the people with piles of paperwork? Do I need to hire you away?”

“He’s a guide dog, Ellen, not a guard dog,” Molly responded, a little brusquely. “Though, admittedly, he’s always hated Margo. Maybe he is a guard dog and I was just too dumb to listen.”

“We’re going to start out like that, are we?” Ellen asked.

“Sorry. Congratulations, Madame President-Elect. You’re gonna be a great President. No, seriously, I mean that. It can’t be that much harder than running the Moon, right?” Molly joked.

“Thanks…but as you’ve heard over the last few hours, apparently it is! We didn’t need to pick out fancy gold curtains on the Moon, at least.”

“I can think of some times when they might have been useful…” Molly leered briefly, remembering a few awkward moments.

Though Molly could not see it, Ellen suddenly blushed a dark red, before composing herself quickly. “Look, I know you want to talk about Margo and the Mars mission – and I really do want to hear your perspective and about what you want to do next. I’m sorry I haven’t had time yet. We’re about to land at the Saudi airbase, a little before dawn on Thanksgiving. Then just you and I and Ollie and 2 Secret Service agents will transfer to a Marine helicopter – not the special one, Hart vetoed that – and fly out to Khafji, where the U.S. military camp is, right at what used to be the front lines. We’ll visit the wounded, host a Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings – that’s taking up most of the space in the helicopter - take some pictures, tell some jokes, and then get back on the helicopter and back to the U.S. by Friday. Then it can make Black Friday headlines and hopefully some good press – as well as underscoring our commitment to protecting our troops here.”

“Sounds fun,” Molly said dryly. “So, at what point in all that do we get to talk?”

“On the helicopter. It’ll be a little noisy, but we’ve got headphones,” Ellen responded.

“Well, I guess it beats making gestures at each other in spacesuits.”

“You know, I had to write up an entire protocol about acceptable and unacceptable uses of sign language and gestures on the Moon because of you, Molly!”

“Worth it, though!”

“You were supposed to be a role model!”

“Yeah, well, I’ve never really been comfortable being made into a prissy Barbie doll. I left that to you and…well, Stevens.” They sobered for a moment, remembering Tracy. After a moment, Molly panicked that they were becoming too serious, too emotional. “Gordo sure made a lousy Ken, though!”

“He did the right thing when it mattered. They both did. Just like you did, Molls,” Ellen said soberly, acknowledging the unspoken truth that she had known perfectly well that Molly violated orders to try and rescue Wubbo and lost her sight in the process.

“I…I wanted to say I’m sorry for cursing you out when you grounded me after the solar storm. You were right. I could have endangered other astronauts, with my vision going as fast as it did. It wasn’t fair to them. But…I think I knew if I left the Moon I’d never get to come back.” Molly admitted.

“I’m sorry I had to make that call – and sorry I yelled back. But I’d make the same decision again – not just because of what Jamestown needed, but because of what you deserved, Molly. You needed a real hospital, and treatment!” Ellen responded.

“Eh, I could have managed. Not like they really managed to do much down here anyhow,” Molly downplayed her own struggles.

At that point, the plane landed. Ellen put on a blue bomber jacket and a baseball cap, hiding her face, and handed another cap to Molly. “Operational security – since we don’t have the full protection afforded to POTUS yet, they’d only let me do this trip if virtually no one knew about it till we got back.”

“We look like the chicks in that ladies’ baseball movie that came out this summer,” Molly grumbled, then sighed. “Wayne loved that movie. He keeps trying to describe the final scene to me.”

There was a long pause from Ellen. “Well, that’s one thing Wayne and I have in common – I loved it too. How’s Wayne doing?”

“In and out of the hospital, but doing a lot better than he was. Those new immunotherapy treatments that the CDC funded seem to be keeping the HIV under control for now; thank goodness Hart made a big push therel even if he fucked up some other stuff. Still, Wayne's immune system’s shot to hell. Guess hanging out with the other hippies in the park doing drugs had some downsides after all.”

“Oh,” Ellen answered slowly, shocked. “I’m so sorry, Molly, I didn't know. I should have known. I should have kept up.”

“You have been a bit busy, Madame President!” Molly reassured her. “And it’s not like either Wayne or I like to moan about our woes in public – though I’m fine; it got detected early enough that we avoided transmission to me or anyone else. Karen does keeps trying to drown him in casseroles as it is, despite her whole new space tourism business. I guess you can’t take the homemaker away from her instincts even when she is a millionaire. Now, where’s that helicopter so we can actually talk about NASA?” Molly was clearly uncomfortable talking about the more personal subjects.

The women left the campaign plane quietly and hurried across the runway to a helicopter painted in desert camouflage, carrying no particular insignia. A small cart, driven by one of the Secret Service agents, followed, carrying various boxes – presumably the Thanksgiving dinner. The pilot and co-pilot saluted; Ellen thanked them and shook their hands before quickly climbing into the back of the copter. Ollie was lifted up into the main compartment and strapped in, before Molly gingerly climbed up herself. She settled next to Ellen and put her headphones and mic on. The two agents sat across from them, directly behind the pilots, most of the leg room being taken up by the boxes and Ollie.

            Ellen took it upon herself to temporarily play hostess. “Molly Cobb, these are Agents Jorge Gonzalez and Marietta Douglas, two of the key members of my Secret Service team since I won the primary. They’re missing Thanksgiving with their own families to keep us safe here.”

            Molly paused for a second. “Marietta Douglas? Weren't you one of the AsCans I flunked out?”

            “Yes, ma’am,” Marietta responded, a little defensively.

            “Aces in endurance, situational analysis, and all the obstacle courses, but couldn’t do calculations in your head past fractions, right?”

            “You made us take a math test while blaring the Beatles and spinning us in the gyroscope!” Marietta muttered.

            “Glad you wound up finding a better place for yourself. Ellen can tell you - maybe she has told you – just how often it’s necessary to calculate the angles just right in space under pressure; my call was right. But here, well, those reflexes of yours and your perception will keep my girl out of  trouble – well, more trouble than she wants to be in, anyway.”

            Ellen stiffened at the “my girl.” As the helicopter’s blades started spinning and they rose in the air, she switched the headphones for herself and Molly to a separate channel. “So, Molly, why not Dani?"

            “It was never really about not being Dani,” Molly answered, with some frustration. “Danielle Poole’s great at what she does. It was about why it ought to be Ed.”

            “Because Ed acts from his gut?”

            “Yes! Because the plans on the ground never work once you’re up there – you know that! It ought to have been somebody who could both do the organizing and the planning and have the instincts to make the right call when something screws the pooch. But I didn’t have that choice!” Molly was almost shouting now in passionate anger, over the noise of the helicopter. “I had to pick either a planner or a test pilot and so when I had to I chose the guy I thought would save the most lives if…when…it came down to a crisis. But Margo couldn’t see that, because she’s never actually been up there. It should…”

            At that moment, a streak of light came up from the desert sands below and hit the left front corner of the helicopter. There was a wave of heat and light bright enough even Molly’s eyes could see it, and then the helicopter started spinning and turning downwards. Alarms started blaring from the cockpit and the emergency lights switched on, bathing the seating area in a dull red glow.

            “Ellen? Ellen!” Molly shouted, taking a deep breath.

            “I’m here – I’m all right, for now.” Ellen answered, a little in shock, arms and legs bruised from the strain on her seatbelt. She mustered all of her many years of training and resolve.

            “Sounds like the pilots aren’t, though – I can hear groans.” Molly responded.

            “All right. I’m going to try to climb past Marietta and Jorge – they’re unconscious at best -  into the cockpit and try and land us,” Ellen resolved. She unbuckled herself, moving as quickly as she could despite the spinning and rapid descent of the copter.

            “You ever flown a regular helicopter, Ellen?” Molly shouted.

            “Can’t say that I have, Molly! Have you?”

            “Yep, back in the bad old days before they let us join NASA – I took a job ferrying folks hurt in car crashes to the regional hospital. Not an Apache, of course, but I know the basics. That said, it probably does help to be able to see where we’re going.” Molly answered wryly. She paused. “Keep your headphones on, and tell me what you’re seeing. I’ll coach you through it. But move fast. Autopilot's holding us steady for the moment, but with all those alarms going off and the smoke I can smell from the engines, we're going to need to land ASAP." The autopilot can't handle a landing in these conditions.”

            Ellen clambered over the bodies. The main pilot was simply gone, thrown out of his seat and the copter itself by the explosion, and the co-pilot was not responding. She buckled herself in, trying to ignore the fierce winds that buffeted her through the broken glass. “All right, Molly, I’m in the pilot seat. I can see the lever for manual control. What’s different from a plane or a shuttle? What do I need to know to get us down safely?” Ellen knew there was no time to panic, and she carefully buried all of her fear and pain and focused on the sound of Molly's crisp, authoritative voice.

            “You’ve got this, Ellen. You don’t even have to catch a tank. Grab hold of the cyclic and the collective in either hand, and then pull the lever for manual control. Your feet should be on both foot pedals. Are all four of your limbs fully functional?”

"Yes, my arms are bruised but I have full range of motion; I might have strained my shoulder," Ellen responded. "I see the cyclic; where's the collective?"

"It's the one that looks like a dick...though that may not be very helpful for you," Molly teased.

"Molly, I have a child! And I am nearly 50 years old! I know what a ...look, never mind. I've found it. What the hell do I do with it now?" Ellen retorted.

Molly cracked up briefly over the headphone, but then quickly returned to giving focused, specific directions. Her calm voice boosted Ellen's confidence, as she talked her through righting the helicopter and slowing their descent. Amazingly, though the blades were clearly damaged,  Ellen was able to stabilize them and prevent free fall. Still, it was almost impossible to steer effectively. Ellen headed towards some dim lights she could see in the distance. “I don’t have any night-vision goggles – there don’t seem to be any spares. It’s hard to tell what’s down there. I’m afraid it’s going to be a bit of a rough landing, Molly.”

            “As long as we can walk away from it, I don’t care about style points, Ellen,” Molly reassured. “Don’t screw the pooch.”

            “Brace yourself – and Ollie.” Ellen switched to the main channel on the headphones. “If anyone else can hear me, prepare for a bumpy ride.” Listening to Molly’s directions, Ellen finally brought the helicopter down, scraping across several sand dunes before coming to a grinding halt and then toppling half over. As soon as the copter stopped, Ellen unbuckled and leapt from the empty hole that had once been the front of the cockpit. She darted back to the passenger compartment. “Molly?”

            “I’m good. Well, considering. So’s Ollie. He’ll lead me out. I think Marietta’s coming around. Jorge…I’m sorry, Ellen; I checked and can't feel a pulse.”

            Ellen took a deep breath. “There’ll be time to grieve later. Right now, you know the priorities as well as I do.”

            “Yes, Commander,” Molly responded, almost automatically. “At least we can breathe here! I’ll get myself out and if you can get me a first aid kit, I can do a lot with my hands alone. I’ve been practicing a lot, helping out Wayne with his bandages and his infections. Let me know if you need help carrying out Marietta or the co-pilot.”

            The two women worked together as if no time had passed since the Moon, despite the lack of practice for both and the inevitable challenges that came with being closer to sixty than forty. The co-pilot, Lieutenant Flanagan, was badly concussed and in shock but breathing, with no obvious internal bleeding. Marietta had a broken arm, rib, and ankle but was coherent and responsive.  Molly found what she called “the good stuff” among the pain medications available in the first aid kit, helpfully marked with raised lettering, and dosed them both liberally.

            “Does your phone work, Ellen?” Molly finally asked after the initial triage had been done.

            “You know, I hadn’t even thought to check yet?” Ellen answered in surprise. “I suppose I’m so used to not being able to get help, being millions of miles away from emergency services.” She pulled out her portable phone, a relatively recent and advanced model given her political role. “No signal. Not that surprising here in the…” Ellen looked around “remote sand dunes, maybe a mile from the Persian Gulf, several miles if not more from the nearest signs of civilization?”

            “Madame President-elect, you need to leave here. Now,” Marietta spoke up.

            “What? Why? You’re injured, you need help! And soon enough the troops at Khafji will realize we haven’t arrived on schedule and send out a patrol.” Ellen refused, shocked at the suggestion.

            Molly considered the situation. “She’s right, Ellen.”

            Ellen drew a deep breath and settled into her “President” mode – which was really just an evolution of her old “Jamestown Commander” mode. “What am I missing?”

            Marietta, encouraged by Molly’s nod, spoke up hesitantly, gaining confidence as she continued,“There was clearly an attack on the helicopter. I’m guessing some sort of RPG. We don’t know yet whether that was a random shot by insurgents or a targeted assassination attempt – whether the operational security of this mission failed and was compromised by Iraqi terrorists. In this circumstance, we have to assume the latter option. In that case, any reasonable operative would send out commandos to find the crashed helicopter and ensure the success of their mission – in other words, by killing you. So you can’t be here if – when - they arrive. You need to flee, as quickly and as quietly as possible, towards those lights, and get help from Americans or reliable Saudis.”

            “Very solid analysis, Douglas,” Molly approved.

            “But…” Ellen hesitated. “If you are right, and insurgents or Iraqi terrorists do come and find the helicopter without me…they’ll kill everyone still here. And you can’t move, Marietta.”

            “Ma’am. I’m a member of the U.S. Secret Service. I swore an oath to protect you. Right now, the best way I can do that is by telling you to get as far away from me as fast as possible,” Marietta responded with resolve.

            Ellen briefly closed her eyes and clenched her nails against her palms. “I accept your analysis. But if I go, I’m taking Molly with me.”

            “I’m blind. I’ll just slow you down,” Molly objected.

            “You already saved our lives once today without being able to see,” Ellen answered. “I’d rather have you by my side in a crisis than a whole platoon, Molly Cobb. You’ve got a gift for survival. Besides, didn’t you say Ollie was moonlighting as a guard dog?”

            Once the decision had been made, there was every reason to move as swiftly as possible. They moved Marietta and Lieutenant Flanagan to the shelter of a nearby rock, well away from anything explosive. Ellen made sure to leave them with plenty of food and water, including the fresh apple cider they had been carrying for the Thanksgiving dinner. Ellen loaded down the pockets of her jacket with more portable foods like pocket apple pies and snack bars, while Molly strapped some canteens and water bottles from the back of the helicopter to Ollie’s harness. Then, as the sun started to rise over the distant waters, Molly and Ellen began traversing the dunes, trying to maintain a northerly direction as much as possible as they aimed for U.S. forces in Khafji.

            After a few hours of uneventful but exhausting travel, they took a brief rest for water. Ellen thanked small mercies that she had decided to wear comfortable sneakers rather than heels for this trip, as she wadded up first aid bandages and padded the blisters that had still resulted from their journey. “Well,” Molly commented, “I suppose this beats the last time we were hiking through a desert, when we were racing against each other rather than cooperating.”

            “I’d be just fine with not spraining my ankle this time,” Ellen responded wryly.

            “Still, you made it then. That took guts! I don’t think I ever told you that impressed me – you and Stevens both.”

            “I wasn’t going to let a stupid ankle wash me out of the program.”

            “Nope! You’ve always kept persisting even when the odds make no sense. I l…like that about you, Madame President,” Molly answered, a little more softly.

            “You just like that because it’s such a core part of who you are too, Molly,” Ellen answered, perceptively.

            “That’s a fair cop," Molly admitted.

            “Molly?” Ellen asked as they began walking again.

            “Yes?”

            “What were you going to say, right when the missile hit?”

            “What? Oh, I was talking about the Mars mission. That…damnit, that it should have been you commanding that mission, from the beginning.” Molly admitted.

            “Oh,” Ellen said softly. “I thought you were going to say that it should have been you.”

            “Me?” Molly echoed. “Oh no. You know, one thing running the Astronaut Office did teach me was who was best for what kind of job. I’m a selfish prick, Ellen. I’m great at making the hard calls and risking my life and getting shit done, I always have been. But managing a team on a two or three year mission to Mars and having to make those calls all the goddamn time, while trying to stick to some pre-written plan? You were born for that job, Ellen – you’ve got the instincts and the planning skills – you have it all in spades. But you left. I kept delaying making a decision, because, well..."

             "Well, what?" Ellen asked, curiously.

             "I didn't think you were going to win the Presidency," Molly blurted, averting her gaze in shame. "Not because of you - you're amazing; the White House should be so lucky. But I didn't really think that when it came down to it, those homeboys in the South would pull the lever for a woman. "

           "I wasn't sure they would either," Ellen admitted. "But I got lucky...and I think you made a big difference there, you and the ERA. Those old white guys had over twenty years to get used to the idea of women heroes - women leaders...and I think they were just less scared of the idea because they knew we were willing to risk our lives just like they were. But what does that have to do with Mars?"

           "Well, as I said, I've always been more cynical about the ability of dudes to stop worrying about the size of their dicks than you have. So, I came up with this great plan. Me! A long-term plan! See, when you lost the Presidency - well, I figured you'd want to get away from it all and not have to deal with all the media for a while. So I thought I'd swoop in then and offer you the Mars command, and then I'd get my perfect leader for the mission. But then you started doing so well in the polls, and Margo kept pushing, and finally I knew my plan wasn't  going to work out and so I settled for Ed," Molly confessed. "I had to pick between two halves of the right choice, and I went with my gut, and I guess I screwed the pooch – but at least now both Dani and Ed are going, and maybe they’ll work out how to make the right calls once they both get to Mars anyhow.”

         "You wanted to....rescue me from political defeat by sending me to Mars?" Ellen asked incredulously. "And you thought that would fix everything? Molly - I haven't even been up in space in ten years! The new shuttles don't even fly the same way!"

            "Yeah, well, it sounded great in my head, all right. And you would have been perfect for it."

            “You know,” Ellen said a bit tartly, “Some folks might think being President of the United States is a pretty important job too.”

            “Oh, sure,” Molly waved that aside. “You’ll do a great job, I expect. But there are lots of people who would make perfectly fine Presidents. I’m sure that Clinton fellow would have been all right if he could keep his dick in his pants, or what’s his name, Bartlett from New Hampshire - and at least they actually care about women controlling their own bodies, unlike some of your new friends. But…there is nobody in the universe who I would have trusted more than you to lead the way to Mars, and now I’m damn scared that I’ve blown it and it’s going to be a disaster.”

            “Oh, Molly,” Ellen’s lips curved upwards wryly. “Ten years I’ve waited to actually be able to talk with you and now you want me to resign the Presidency of the United States so I can go to Mars?”

            “I didn’t put it quite like that. But if you hadn’t picked a sexist dumbass as your vice-president, that would be a fantastic idea,” Molly retorted.

            “Thank you, for saying that about my skills – it means a lot to know how much faith you have in me. But I think, presuming we survive the next few hours, I’m going to stay here and try to keep this planet going for a few more years. And Molly,” Ellen drew a deep breath, “You left first.”

            Molly stiffened. “What do you mean? I didn’t leave NASA till Margo threw me out on my ass.”

            “You left me. Us. I left NASA because I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing you every day without being with you, having to seei you struggle and suffer with your eyes blurring and being unable to help because I was just your ‘co-worker’.” Ellen’s despair and bitterness, bottled up for a decade, finally burst out of her, drawn out by the increasing desert heat and this rare moment of privacy.

            “Ellen….” Molly stopped, and reached out for the other woman’s hands. Ollie nosed Molly’s arm into the correct position, and she grabbed on tight to Ellen’s fingers. “I’m sorry. I said I was a selfish prick.”

            “But you aren’t, Molly!” Ellen answered passionately. “The only reason you’re blind is because you couldn’t bear the thought, even knowing it meant risking your own life, of leaving Wubbo out there – even though you knew he was probably all but dead already! You’re Molly Cobb: you never put yourself first! You have always been willing to risk everything to help other astronauts – to help the world – except when it came to your own happiness.”

            Molly shrugged, and offered her own confession back. “It’s hard to feel like your own happiness is supposed to matter much when you’ve become a human symbol.”

            “Believe me, I know,” Ellen grinned back. “I may be the only other woman in the world, except maybe for Anastasia and Dani, who knows just how hard it is to be a symbol. But that’s why we needed each other. Because you don’t see Astronaut Ellen, or President Ellen. You just saw me.”

            “I…didn’t think there was room enough on the Earth or Moon for all our dreams, Ellen. So I chose which ones to follow. Was I wrong?” Molly’s hand went hesitantly up to Ellen’s cheek.

            “I don’t know, Molly. Maybe we’ll never know. But maybe the right answer isn’t to choose between limited options. Maybe the right answer is to try to have both.”

            “Are we talking about the Mars mission or our relationship?”

            “Yes?” Ellen offered. She took the initiative this time, and leaned in for a kiss, making sure to touch Molly’s lips gently at first, so as not to surprise her. Her lips were chapped and dry in the desert heat, but Molly’s enthusiastic response quickly made it clear that a little chafing was entirely welcomed. Soon, the women found a rocky shelter and sank down onto the sand into an embrace. The lovemaking that followed was, perhaps, not performed under ideal circumstances, but it was no less passionate than their earlier liaisons, despite the full Earth gravity. Ollie waited patiently but finally nudged them both awake after a  brief drowsy nap, nestled in each other’s arms.

            Upon awakening, Ellen stood up and peered off into the distance, covering her eyes from the sun’s glare with her baseball cap.

Molly also pulled herself together and stood up,, grabbing Ollie’s harness. “I think I hear an engine? Sounds like a Jeep?”

            It took another minute before Ellen was certain of what she was seeing. “Yes, definitely a Jeep, headed this direction. And it’s flying the American flag.” She took off her blue bomber jacket and started waving it in the air, while Molly instructed Ollie to give his loudest alert bark. As the presumed rescuers approached, Ellen turned to Molly, grazing her cheek again.

            “So, what now?”

            “I told you: I just go by my instinct. You’re the one with both the guts and the plans. This time, I’ll follow your lead.”

            “There might be some paperwork and some rubber chicken dinners involved,” Ellen warned. “And…maybe taking things slowly rather than diving into a lunar crater headfirst?”

            “I trust you,” Molly grinned. “If I can’t have you on Mars, I’ll take what I can get on Earth.”

            “It’s a plan,” Ellen agreed, and the two of them and their dog strode off in the desert to meet the future, whatever it might bring.