Down Pad

By Mary Hare

A few years from now, reusable spacecraft provide routine, daily access to space. And as always, it's the enlisted boots on the ground that keep everything going. They need a special combination of people, both laser-focused detail-obsessed computer jocks and the oil-stained salt-of-the-earth folks who just make things work.

 

Space Force enlistees go to boot camp in Boca Chica. That's also where the Space Force operates its workhorse, the Shrike, the military version of the SpaceX Falcon 9. The landing pads are nicknamed down pads, a name reflected in the local military hangout, The Down Pad, which provides food, drink, dancing and gaming.

 

But not everyone who wants to join the Space Force will make it. Jake Blacksmith, a detrans man, has to fight to get in. Camden Tanner, more comfortable with computers than people, has to fight to fit in. As Blacksmith and Tanner rotate between the base and The Down Pad, each must navigate his own path in life. Where will it lead each of them?

 

Novella: approximately 23,000 words; mature language

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mary Hoerr
• Release date: Oct 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223594055

Book preview

Prologue – First Stage Recovery

Boca Chica, TX, was the site of the Space Force Launch Delta responsible for Shrike operations, a military version of the SpaceX Falcon 9.

Mommy, said Al, there it goes! At three years old, the Shrike launch still impressed him. It came a close second to the steam engine videos on Rumble, and might actually be in danger of replacing dinosaurs.

Jenna Mae Michaelson Carrington set three month old Nicky, head lolling, milk drunk, in the detachable car seat on the green grass of the park next to the park shelter, and re-closed the nursing bra under the modesty cover.

Shelly looked up from her Notepad. Al, come over here, called the seven-year-old. I’ll show you where to look.

The little boy ran over and turned to look where his sister was pointing. She was looking at a countdown on her Notepad. Twenty-five, twenty-four, twenty-three ....

Al couldn’t count backwards until she got to ten, but he waited patiently. Then both of them together said, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one! And there it was, the first stage separated, and then drifted out of sight.

But I can’t see the down fire! complained Al. That’s what he called the rocket fire that maneuvered the first stage down to its down pad, where it would be prepped and clicked into the transporter that would take it to the hangar.

We can’t see both the launch and the first stage touch down from this park, said Shelly. We told you that.

Mom, said Twan, I’m going over to the rocket park. The guys are going skateboarding. At ten years old, their first born was both the most responsible and the most interested in things that could get him hurt.

Twan, don’t forget your helmet and elbowpads and kneepads, Jenna said, out of habit, although she knew he wouldn’t forget them.

Yeah, Mom, he said. I know. If Dad can wear a helmet and protective gear at the down pad, I can wear that stuff at the skateboard park. He really wished she would stop treating him like a baby.

Jenna sighed at his back, as he rode off on his bike. He was going to come back with a broken leg one of these times. Or worse. Then she turned back to Shelly. There’s not another launch for four hours, she said. Either set that Notepad for an exercise routine or put it down and take a lap. We’re at the park to get sun and exercise.

Making the Case

Captain Lorenz looked at the young man the recruiter had sent him. Well, at least they were clearing out his kind, since they’d gotten rid of the woke bullshit. And he knew just how to start this.

Hello, miss, he said. So you want to join the Space Force?

Yes, I do, said Jake. And I’m male, he added, conversationally.

He/him? asked Lorenz. This was already going differently than he’d expected. He’d expected Blacksmith to take offense.

That’s what you usually call men where I come from, he answered calmly. But clearly, I have some medical problems. I’d just like to make the case that they shouldn’t keep me out of the service.

Medical problems? Gender dysphoria? We don’t take recruits like that any more.

Not gender dysphoria. And male. XY in every cell. No genetic abnormalities.

The captain looked closer. Blacksmith had a crew cut, his face was masculine, mostly, but he’d bet money he never had to shave. And he’d swear the kid was pitching his voice lower. There was no obvious Adam’s apple. He’d probably sound like a child or a woman otherwise. He knew the signs. That’s why they sent these cases to him.

Transwoman? asked Lorenz.

That’s what stepmom was aiming for, said Jake.

Lorenz suddenly got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He was starting to see where this was headed. And he’d never had a case like this before.

When I was eighteen, I finally left home, said Jake. Not a lot was reversible by then, so no, I don’t shave, my voice never dropped, and I’m pretty scarred and weird-looking down there. They call it a micro-cock. But I don’t need hormones or special accommodations and no problem putting me with the other men.

You don’t need hormones? The kid was absolutely calm.

No, sir, he said.

Jake set a paper folder on the desk and opened it.

So they used part of my colon to make the fake cunt, but the colon healed completely. Here’s the doc’s report, and we got ultra-sound and everything, he said. And all the fake stuff is gone and healed, so no continuing wounds or infection sites – everything’s clean. No balls, so yes, I’m low on testosterone, and that might be an issue down the road – like decades down the road, it might make me more prone to some long-term degenerative diseases – but I should be fine for quite a while without.

You’re willing to give up the testosterone and die earlier?

Sir, I’m a guinea pig. All of us were guinea pigs. Any combination of hormones has health risks. They’re still trying to figure out what works best. I’m part of a long term study. So if not going on T gets me in the Space Force, I’m okay with that.

You’re part of a study?

Sort of, Jake answered. I mean, I talk to these doctors and they do tests and stuff. But if it interferes with enlisting, I don’t have to. I’m not obligated.

So there are mental issues, Jake continued. I mean, intelligence. They figure I lost some IQ points, but I’m still at 110, so that should be okay. I lost growth, but you can see – here he stood up – I’m not too short – I’m still 5 foot 10. And 165 lbs – I have to work out more, because of the low T, but I still got the skeleton and basic musculature of a man – I can meet the male standards.

You’re not going to have privacy – said Lorenz.

Yeah, that’ll be fun, but not really anything new, said Jake. I already know what they’re going to call me. If I can’t take the trash talk, I don’t belong in the military.

The captain looked at the folder.

You can keep that – it’s a copy, said Jake. And I’ve got a psych eval, too. No gender dysphoria. And personality eval – high conscientiousness, disagreeable in the normal male range, but not extreme. Somewhat above average openness. Low neuroticism.

Pretty common profile for a military enlistee. You’ve thought of everything?

Sure trying to, sir, Jake answered.

Lorenz leaned over the desk and shook Jake’s hand. "I’ll run it by