Back to the Moon by Homer Hickam

problems here on earth, does it make sense to keep spending money on space?”
    Penny pushed past the publicist so she was in front of the cameras again. “One million, two hundred thousand dollars is about what Americans spend on cat litter in a week,” she said, adding a dazzling smile. The reporters wrote her comment down. She waited—timing being everything—and then got serious. “I am, as you well know, a qualified biologist. I have a series of experiments that I will be performing in the microgravity environment of space that may very well have practical applications in the medical field. My seat on the space shuttle has been paid for by a one of the largest pharmaceutical companies in the world, which is intensely interested in the results of these experiments. I believe the American taxpayer is going to get a good return on the investment of flying me into space.”
    Penny waved at the excited reporters and correspondents, who were still yelling questions at her as she climbed aboard. The rest of the crew had grabbed front seats together, so Penny worked her way to the back. The bus stank like a closetful of wet rubber raincoats because of the LES suits. “Hey, High Eagle.” Astronaut Janet Barnes snickered. “You know the difference between you and God? I do. God don’t think he’s you!”
    â€œShut up, Janet,” Grant snapped, standing as she spoke. She walked down the aisle, leaned into Penny’s face. “High Eagle, have you got makeup on? Wipe it off. You’re not wearing powder into space. It’ll pop off you in zero g and float around and I, for one, don’t want to breathe it.”
    â€œI guess I’m one of those women who like to look their best wherever they go,” Penny replied in a reasonable tone. She didn’t want a fight. Not now.
    Grant reached above her, opened a locker, and threw her a box of tissues and a bottle of water. “Where you’re going, honey, all you need is a bag to puke in.”
    Penny shrugged but complied. She was getting her jaunt into space, would get her book out of it, hit the best-seller lists again. On her way to success she’d dealt with a lot worse than Grant and her pumped-up astronettes. Penny finished, threw the tissues on the floor, and looked forlornly out the window as the lush swamp of Banana Creek slid by. People lined the road, waving. She waved back and then suddenly felt very alone. Penny had hoped she would be able to find at least one friend among the women astronauts. It was ironic, she knew, but it was the truth. Her books and articles about her adventures had made her one of the most famous women in the world but she had no friends, just associates, employees, and agents.
    The crew bus slowly made its way to the access road that paralleled the reinforced concrete crawlerway. Pad 39-B loomed ahead. Penny drank in the sight.
Columbia
was beautiful. A wreath of surrealistic white mist, the liquid oxygen boil-off, swirled around the huge spacecraft. For a moment Penny allowed herself to savor the adventure ahead.
    The guard trucks peeled off as the bus braked in front of the pad, and Penny followed the crew outside to the launch tower. When the elevator doors opened to take them up to the crew access level, Grant and the three other astronauts shuffled aboard. A guard approached Penny, holding an autograph book and a pen. “Would you mind, ma’am?” he asked politely.
    â€œWe’re not going to wait,” Grant snapped at her from the elevator.
    Penny had learned long ago she could not be who she was without her fans and they came first, even here in
Columbia
’s shadow. “Go ahead,” she said to her grumpy commander. “I’ll catch up.” More scraps of paper were being thrust at her and she was more than happy to oblige. Neither she nor the excited guards heard the nearly inaudible thump as the pulleys of elevator number one