Long live Captain Swan! Now in an early-1970s Apollo Space Program AU flavor!

A few notes, then on with the show:
1. This is based on history, but it's also rooted in a show about fairy tales. It is romanticized and there are historical inaccuracies – hopefully nothing too glaring, though I'd love to hear your thoughts!
2. Robin is American and his last name in Mills.
3. I searched for a British Military branch rank of 'Captain' and didn't yield a result that seemed appropriate for Killian's age/position. As such, please excuse the RAF rank disconnect, cause really, whoever heard of Lt. Hook?
4. I'm a space dork and a pirate girl, so this fic has truly been born from my utmost love of both. The real men and women of the Apollo Space Program have my undying respect and admiration for all that they accomplished. Major credit goes to those real-life folks where credit is due in this fic.

Cheers, mateys!


A drop of sweat rolled down Emma's spine. She didn't know how Mary Margaret and Mrs. Mills always managed to look so cool and breezy in the oppressive Florida humidity. By comparison, Emma always felt like a soggy, sticky mess. But that's probably why Mary Margaret and Mrs. Mills were astronauts' wives, and Emma was the unwed secretary for the Director of the Office of Chief Astronaut.

Day to day, it was a distinction that had no bearing on her life. She worked hard for her reputation and position, and wouldn't trade it for anything. Her previous typing pool post in Boston came with a decent reference when she decided a drastic change of scenery was needed. Her application to the Kennedy Space Center - KSC - typing pool had been a complete lark. Yet when they selected her for the position, it didn't take them long to recognize the value in her ability to chase things to completion, her tenacity to never let a question die, and her ability to anticipate future needs. When the secretarial position opened, Director Midas hadn't hesitated to promote her.

During the Apollo 16 mission, she nearly drowned under the tidal wave of her new position. Apollo 17 executed smoother than she anticipated, and by Apollo 18, the job was a breeze. But Apollo 19 would be their most important mission yet.

The Mission of International Cooperation. The first of its kind with a command module crew of mixed nationalities. How better to show the world a unified front against the Russians then to pair America in space with her closest ally across the pond, Great Britain.

Director Kingsley Midas didn't look to weather the midafternoon heat any better than she did. Sweat beaded along his brow and likely stained the white shirt beneath his dark suit jacket. It wasn't a long walk from the car into the hanger, but high spring temperatures had descended on the cape with a vengeance.

"You've confirmed that the press doesn't know?" Midas asked, flashing his security badge at the sergeant on duty outside the hanger.

"Yes, sir," Emma answered, showing her own badge, "there's no report or speculation of the astronauts relocating yet."

"When's the press conference scheduled?"

"Two weeks."

"Very good. Time to get the crew settled and in routine before we introduce them to the world."

"Yes, sir." The shade of the hanger was a welcome reprieve from the blazing sun even if it wasn't air conditioned. So few spaces at KSC had that luxury.

"Director Midas, welcome" a lieutenant approached with a quick nod, "Captain Jones is on final approach and should be on the tarmac in five."

Midas' smile widened with visible excitement. "Excellent, thank you."

Emma offered a closed-mouth smile as the lieutenant stepped away, walking towards the open bay doors. She still remembered being surprised at the announcement and that happened four years ago before she even worked at NASA. But it had made national and international headlines overnight - the first non-American to be eligible for a lunar mission. RAF Captain Killian "Hook" Jones, announced with Astronaut Group 5 and relocated for training in Houston, TX. Until now.

With the launch of Apollo 19 three short months away, Director Midas had deemed it time to relocate the crew to Cape Canaveral. With the high profile of their international crew member and the ever-present threat of red spies, it only made sense to locate the last critical months of preparation to the secure, remote KSC.

For weeks, Emma had processed boxes of documents from their Houston preparations – medical records, test evaluations, training certifications. Of course, everything would be checked and re-qualified prior to launch, but she'd seen enough to know the important role that proper paperwork routing served.

In fact, when Midas had interrupted her with the news that they would greet Captain Jones personally on arrival, she had been less than thrilled. The boxes continued to pile up and there was always something to do in preparation for a launch.

"Ah, there he is." Midas' voice drew her back and she glanced out the open bay doors to see the sleek metal jet come into view, gliding to a gentle stop. With a subtle gesture, she brushed at her blonde waves and smoothed the drape of her blouse and pencil skirt, adjusting the hold on her portfolio. There was only one chance to make a first impression, after all - and she'd met her fair share of hotdog, ace pilots who only regarded her as a pretty skirt. But that was their mistake.

Midas chuckled softly next to her and she felt a flush rise in her cheeks. "You needn't worry, Miss Swan. You look quite pretty today, and I'm sure the captain will notice. Though, I hear tales from Houston that he's quite the ladies' man, so you'd do best to remember yourself. This office does not need a scandal."

"Of course not. The thought hadn't even crossed my mind, sir." And, truthfully, it hadn't. Of course, she'd seen photos of the bachelor captain and couldn't deny his rather striking looks. It made sense that other women would notice them, too. But Emma was currently spoken for and hadn't looked back...yet. But with Walsh, maybe she wouldn't. A wave of anxiety pulled at her gut but she quickly squashed it, knowing this was not the time or place. Especially as she looked up to see the captain climb down from his jet, lifting the helmet free of his head.

His tousled dark hair only turned more disheveled as he ran a hand through it, teasing volume into the flattened locks. It lent an undeniably roguish quality to him, despite the unflattering, military flight suit. His infectious smile shone, even at this distance, as he talked to the ground crew and headed into the shade of the hanger, slinging a small duffel bag over his shoulder. That's when she noticed the piercing clear blue of his eyes. It painted a sharp contrast to the dark hair, but paired perfectly with his brilliant smile.

Emma couldn't deny he looked appealing - far better than any photograph allowed - and the cocksure swagger about him more than suggested that he knew all too well about his good looks. Then again, he was also a fighter pilot and she had yet to meet one who didn't believe he was God's gift to the world. Even if astronauts these days had more engineering brains than the wild cowboys of the Mercury Program, they were still all testosterone-fueled, adrenaline junkies. Well, with exception of David Nolan perhaps. He was a regular Prince Charming by comparison.

"Captain Jones, welcome!" Midas' voice boomed in the hanger as he extended a hand.

"Thank you, sir." Jones' words carried a silky, lilting accent as he took Midas' hand. "I'm honored to be here."

"And we're honored to have you here." Midas looked to her, gesturing. "Allow me to introduce my secretary, Miss Swan."

She inclined her head politely. "Welcome to Kennedy Space Center, Captain Jones."

The blue of his eyes proved even more blinding when they connected with hers and he held out a hand. "Miss Swan. Truly a pleasure."

With a shaky smile, she reached her hand out to his. It always made her nervous - was her grip too soft? Too tight? Most men didn't professionally shake her hand so she'd never had a lot of practice. She released his hand, resisting the urge to bite the inside of her cheek. His shrewd gaze didn't miss any part of her reaction, a faint hint of intrigue flashing across his face.

Midas barreled ahead. "I'll have you know that Miss Swan is the best secretary I've had in my time at NASA. Pretty as a picture, and a head for the details, too. My office is always open to you, young man - but if you cannot locate me, Miss Swan will be able to help you or take a message."

"Aye, sir." Jones' reply carried the swiftness of military command.

"Daily briefings at 0600 will set the order for the day, and Miss Swan will serve as the official keeper of yours and the rest of the crew's schedules as approved by my office. Miss Swan," Midas turned to her with an impatient gesture and an anxious smile, "the captain's schedule for today, please?"

She flipped open the portfolio in hand, pulling out the piece of paper.

With a bemused grin, Jones took it with his free hand, skimming the typed words. "Thank you, lass. Every detail well and truly accounted for."

"Excuse me, director," footsteps clicked off the concrete floor as the lieutenant from earlier interrupted, looking tentatively between Midas and Jones, "but we've had a flight schedule update for Captain Mills tomorrow."

"Oh, gracious," Midas nearly groaned, "has Mrs. Mills changed her mind? Again? " The lieutenant looked just as frustrated as Midas' tone suggested and the director shook his head. "Excuse me, please, while I sort this out." He pulled on the lapels of his suit jacket, stepping off with the lieutenant towards a phone on the wall that rested off the hook.

Emma rocked on her heels, debating whether or not to strike up a conversation. Perhaps it would just be better to wait for him. But, perhaps not. She glanced up, catching him with a polite smile. "So, captain...how did you find Houston?"

"Rather oppressive," a light tease infused his words, "it's amazing that human beings have survived in such heat and humidity without evolving gills."

"There are plenty who would say the same about life here on the cape, too."

"Would you?" He arched a brow. "Or are you a native with secret ways of combating the water vapor invasion?"

She just barely resisted rolling her eyes. "No secrets here, ace."

He chuckled softly. "It's bad form to lie in the first meeting, love." He paused, as if just realizing something. "And speaking of bad form - unless your first name really is 'miss', then Director Midas was spectacularly remiss in his introduction."

Her brow pinched in mild suspicion and annoyance, debating not answering him. But what did it matter? He'd learn it eventually in the next three months. "Emma."

His smile filled out to the bright white of his press photos and she didn't give him the satisfaction of returning it. He wasn't the first man to innocently or otherwise flirt with her, and he wouldn't be the last. But with Walsh in her life right now, she didn't need to risk sending any encouraging signals.

She pursed her lips, swallowing hard and taking a side step. "Well, please don't let me keep you." She gestured towards the collection of rooms at the back of the hanger.

"Ah yes," he waved the schedule, gazing at his wristwatch before scanning the paper again. "Officially, I'm already late. According to this, I should be 'refreshing from my flight', though I won't deny that conversing with you is quite refreshing."

She didn't hold back the eye-roll this time. "And I'm sure you'll still think that in three months, no matter how obtrusive my presence."

He hefted his duffel bag against his shoulder, deftly crimping the schedule in half with one hand. "I highly doubt obtrusive is a word I would ever apply to you. Though, lovely as this is, a shower does indeed sound appealing." He tugged at his collar despite the folder paper in his hand. "Flight suits don't exactly breathe."

The motion drew her gaze to the drops of moisture that teased the slope of his throat. Nothing about it should make her want to taste his skin but the impulse lingered just the same. Mentally shaking from the thought, she again motioned towards the door at the back of the hanger that she knew lead to the pilot locker room. "A car will be waiting when you're finished to take you to your residence. The Director's office is located in the Operations and Checkout Building which is where we'll see you tomorrow morning for the daily briefing. You'll find additional instructions and information waiting at your residence when you arrive."

"Very thorough, as advertised."

She nodded stiffly and knew what she had to say next. Even if she already dreaded the captain's response, Director Midas wouldn't expect her to behave any different. "Is there anything else I can help you with at this time, captain?"

He arched a suggestive brow, taking a few steps towards the locker room. "Is that an offer to wash my back?"

Her face pinched with irritation, watching his mouth curl with a glinting, insufferable smirk, before she turned away. She resolutely didn't look back as he called after her.

"For the record, Swan, that's not a 'no'."