Chapter 29• Sidereal
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Author's Note: Hey all! Firstly, I'm sorry if anyone has had difficulty seeing this- either the fanfic itself or the chapters.
For whatever reason, when I posted the last Chapter (#28-Asteroidea) on October 2nd it turned into a stale URL twice- so, of course, no-one could read it. It's posted for real now (as I write this on December the 1st).
I pretty much check it every day, so if you haven't seen the previous chapter but are somehow seeing this one- go back and read that one and then come back.
The 'traffic graph' also glitches every now and then, so it actually keeps telling me that we've had no new visitors since September- which I'm hoping is not true. I'm still trying my best to see which chapters are being visited and which aren't. It's a struggle, but we'll get through.
Gotta love technology! Anyway, thanks for coming back! Onto Chapter 29!
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*Day 15 of Origenes Crisis*
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The sleep the next night was awful.
I woke up aching all over, despite the fact that tossing and turning was pretty much impossible in our environment. I figured it was coming, but I didn't think it would happen my second night in space.
My slumber was marred with what felt like hours of repetitive dreams. I had no control over them but was instead subjected to enduring the same 10-second occurrence at nauseum.
It felt nearly painful to put effort into remembering what it was. For whatever reason, the only memories I could conjure up were those of a ball bouncing off a wall, me catching it in my mouth, followed by the same ball flying out of my grasp and once again hitting the wall.
Rinse and repeat.
I was so out of it; my brain took a while to register what was going on.
Arlo was howling in discomfort.
I shook the residual dreaminess out of my head and jumped out of bed to see Weston trying to calm him down, his paws pushing deep into Arlo's back.
"Weston, I've had back spasms before-I don't think this is how you fix them!", Arlo pleaded.
"Shhhh, stop moving around like that. You'll make it worse", Weston said, "Honestly, how did you manage to do that to yourself when there's no gravity?"
"Ummm, is everything okay?", I asked, very unsure if what I was seeing was actually real.
"Ugh…oh….Hey Rocky, sorry if I woke you up. You might end up having to replace me if I stay in the… well…. state I'm in, I can't walk or bend down at all", Arlo said.
I shuddered.
"Oh boy….let's not be too dramatic", Weston assured as he felt around, "Ok, I think I found it. You ready?"
"Please don't cripple me", Arlo begged.
"Deep breath", Weston said.
Arlo inhaled and exhaled. Weston reared back and pressed down with his entire body weight as Arlo breathed out and a sickly crack echoed through the spacecraft.
"Woah!", Arlo jumped up and stretched his body out, "You're a life-saver!"
"Are you?-", I started.
"Good as new! Weston, you might have just saved the mission. How can I ever repay you?", Arlo beamed, grabbing Weston's face.
"Don't mention it", Weston said as he propelled himself to float past me and back to our sleeping compartments.
He slinked back into his cube and curled up into a ball.
"Oh, you're going back to sleep?", I asked.
"Sure am. Wake me if you need me", he said, before he pulled the curtain shut.
Arlo and I looked at each other and it was as if a lightbulb went off in his head.
"Ooh, Rocky, there's something I wanted to show you", he said, "Come to the front!"
I went back to my sleeping space and quickly grabbed my notes- careful not to make too much noise close to the somehow already sleeping Weston.
I floated to the front where Arlo was waiting.
He hadn't lost even an ounce of enthusiasm since we'd left the launchpad.
Silently, I started feeling kind of bad for him; he was essential in every possible way yet I almost felt like I wanted to give him my spot so he could see the moon in my place.
He'd be sidelined in the capsule, high above the action while Weston and I worked.
I could see the moon, of course, whenever I fancied, since the cockpit windows faced directly forwards. It appeared slightly larger than it did the previous day as we inched towards its not-so-inviting face that was 70% dark at our angle of travel.
Viewing the moon as a destination remained, as it always had been, an odd notion.
I found myself mentally preparing to smoothly swoop down onto a runway as if we were on a commercial passenger plane.
Though the real process of how we'd get to the moon's surface would be more akin to dropping a massive, 25.55-ton bomb on a 65-to-85-mile plunge; a thought made less scary by the fact that gravity wouldn't factor into the equation as much as it would on Earth thanks to the moon's 7.34767309 × 10^22-kilogram mass.
It sounds small, but if you imagine a 10 with 22 zeroes after it, it begins to take shape just how huge it is.
It fully registered during one of many slideshow presentations I endured back on Day 3, stating that about 50 moons could fit inside of the Earth (The Earth's total volume being 260 billion cubic miles).
Arlo could tell I was deep in thought. Probably too deep.
"I try not to look at it too much, I figure I'll see enough of both sides in a few days anyway, and I won't have to strain to see either", he said.
"Sorry", I said, realizing that I hadn't said a word in a while.
"No need, we've got nothing but time anyway", he replied, "I just wanted you to see this."
Arlo pulled a sliding lever and revealed a hidden panel in the central console. I figured it wasn't included in the final model, but I remembered seeing in the files.
Arlo explained to me that it was only meant to be used if everything aside from the backup power failed us during the mission.
"The events of, well…a little while ago have confirmed something I already know to be true- I don't need multiple things to go awry to start contingency planning", Arlo admitted.
I understood. He wanted to help me get at least slightly familiar with the command module controls just in case he was to throw out his back or become otherwise incapacitated- I'd have to take his job for real.
I wondered if he'd given Weston the same rundown. More importantly, wouldn't losing an astro create a scenario where we'd have to send one down to the moon alone-thus a potentially life-threatening scenario where the mission's completion would immediately be in jeopardy?
I just assumed that Weston had enough going on with his module as it was, so I didn't question the opportunity to pitch in.
He showed me how to run the most advanced systems check we had; it took about 5 minutes.
Everything was running on its best behavior. In fact, it was running so efficiently, that the power we were conserving could cover 60% of an additional trip to the moon. An odd metric, sure, but it was good to know that we had that much 'left in the tank' in case we had to pull some sort of mission-saving maneuvers later on.
The best part to me, however, was the mirror check. The systems would let us know if any issues were detected, but there was something so comforting about seeing it for yourself.
There were mirrors that slid from sides of the cockpit's outside edges- like giant rear-view mirrors.
There were also larger mirrors that extended from the bottom of the landing module and could be tilted to view every single inch of the back half of our craft without going outside.
It seemed as though every inch of our new home had a secret, in addition to the engineers ensuring we got the maximum use of the space.
Arlo and I spoke to mission control briefly, though they had no additional instructions to give us. It was that day that I discovered another new aspect of myself.
A word came to my mind that I'd never considered before : Liberation.
Okay Rocky….but what does that mean?
We weren't being "Left to our own devices" but were free to conduct business as we saw fit.
The PAW Patrol had always operated under Ryder's lead, even if he couldn't attend a rescue himself.
But it was his presence that had a wide range of influence as we grew as a team.
Ryder built us up, but his absence was definitely hard to ignore.
The first rescue we had ever done without him was one he called in himself.
His tablet had been destroyed from a fall and he was stranded on a cliff face with Garby.
It was Chase, unsurprisingly, who took the reins when we put together a plan of action to help him get down safely.
But Ryder had noticed just how disjointed rescues could become if he weren't directly involved. Or at least, that's how it was early on.
Not wanting to become a handicap to our functionality as a unit, Ryder would "surprise" us by calling from random places and asking for a "rescue"- at completely unprompted and unpredictable times.
It kept us continuously on the lookout for trouble, but it was always a pleasant possibility that Ryder could join a real mission that he didn't necessarily begin with you.
We all became used to working on our own or in groups where Ryder was not needed (slowly but surely). Yet now that I had left the planet with no shortage of people to help me, I was stripped of that possibility.
Ryder wasn't around. Neither was Chase. Neither Weston nor Arlo knew exactly how I worked under "normal" circumstances. The reality was- this trip was going to require an entirely new approach to my operations.
At that moment, there was nothing to tackle but the miles of empty space between us and the moon.
I couldn't help but recall Arlo's initial hangups about the PAW Patrol- stating that he saw Ryder as an obstacle to the other pups rather than a helping hand.
Although, I could only recall a handful of times where we had to stop what we were doing to get Ryder out of harm's way once a rescue had begun.
On the other side, he saved us countless times when we got way in over our heads, often jumping in to give us the right instructions once we got overwhelmed or physically tossing us to safety if we ever hit a wrong button or misjudged the integrity of a supporting beam.
But he was still patient and trusting enough to let us climb right back into our vehicles and try again the very next time the opportunity presented itself.
In a way, it was that kind of bonding that I missed….
Weston re-emerged about an hour later and we all congregated in our usual spots- mine, of course, was next to the window.
The songs playing on the radio shifted to the Chillhop genre and remained there.
"Ooh, Is this what the kids call Lo-fi?", Arlo asked.
Weston did a sort-of half-groan. Not like he was bothered with Arlo's question, but it seemed like he'd heard the answer that I was going to share.
"Well. I think so. This type of music has been around awhile. I'm not too well-versed in what the slang terminology is though, people call plenty of things by the wrong names. I just listen to it when I need to fill some silence", I said.
"It reminds me of elevator-music, but good elevator music", Weston stated.
I hated that comparison but didn't say anything.
"I think 'Lo-fi' as a genre has technically existed since the 1980s, probably even before then. But Chillhop is like a sub-genre that's getting modest popularity now, I think", I added.
"So, all Chillhop is 'Lo-fi'- but not all 'Lo-fi' is Chillhop- that's what I'm hearing?", Arlo asked.
"Yeah, that's about right", Weston said.
I hadn't told anyone at NASA about how much I liked the music, but the others didn't seem to mind.
Thus began a fun dynamic between us three:
"Hey Rocky, what song is this?" Weston asked me.
"Sleepy Fish- 'Lunar Cycles'. Kinda fitting, huh?"
"Wow, it doesn't even have any words and you can just recall the name without even thinking about it?", asked a perplexed Arlo.
"Yeah, I guess you could call it a talent", I said.
Though my proficiency made me wonder if I spent too much time listening to music.
"What's this one called, Rocky?", Arlo asked a bit later.
"This one's called 'Lovely', it's by Joey Pecoraro."
"That's amazing", Arlo said.
There was no way to confirm my guesses, but the others just trusted me by my word.
I knew I was right, so I didn't worry.
"What about this one?", Arlo asked a while later.
"It's 'Campus' by Philanthrope and….someone else", I said, slightly bummed that they asked me about one I wasn't 100% sure of.
"Crazy how you can't really discern that there are multiple people on one track", Weston remarked.
"Well, you could if you know what instruments a specific artist can play, it's a bit easier then", I said.
"I'd listen to any radio station if you were the DJ, Rocky", Arlo said.
Oddly enough, I had never talked to anyone about music before. And yet, we filled the time effortlessly. You would have thought us all best friends, the way we spoke about what each song reminded us of.
Closing our eyes and saying the first color or memory that came to our minds.
But after a while, it fell on me to change the subject.
"What do you think you'll do after this?", I asked.
Arlo looked curious, "You mean once we get back to Earth?"
"Yeah, when everything's done. We put Origenes back in orbit, we splash down, celebrate accordingly, sign autographs, then go our separate ways?", I said.
"That optimism is great!", Arlo interjected with a laugh, "You don't strike me as someone who runs around giving out autographs."
"I've signed one- two years ago- but that's not important", I smiled, "They asked me- just so we're clear- and it was a SINGULAR instance."
Arlo giggled.
"Wait, can we go back a bit? You said, 'go our separate ways'. You're not even gonna invite us over for a barbecue or something? We've seen your lookout; you've got the space for us", said Weston.
"Space, sure. But I'd be a little more hesitant about inviting yourself to Adventure Bay, if I were you", I said.
"What's that supposed to mean?", Weston asked.
"I feel like it would be, I don't know, a little bit of a 'culture shock' of sorts", I said, a bit more smugly than I intended.
"For Weston or me?", Arlo chimed in.
"Especially for Weston", I sort of half-chuckled.
"Alright, now what is THAT supposed to mean?", Weston demanded.
Arlo laughed, "It means they'd scare you off with their niceness. I mean youthful energy is one thing, but I'll never forget the first time I offered you a pawful of those Almond Windmill treats and you looked at me like I had spotted mushrooms growing out of my ears. They're pretty good people, yeah?", Arlo then directed the question at me.
"They're a lot like me, yeah", I said.
Weston lifted an eyebrow and grumbled, "So, they're super happy and energetic all the time?"
"Well, energetic sure. I wouldn't say I'm happy all the time, not really, and they aren't either", I said.
"It means they aren't downers like us Weston, well-mostly you", Arlo said.
"You'd be a downer too if you'd almost got kicked out of NASA for writing down the wrong address!", Weston said.
Yet another new detail about Weston that I didn't know.
"And just so you know, I appreciated your gesture, but I wanted to grab the treats with my own paws", he directed back at Arlo.
Arlo conceded, "Well you might have a point or two there. Don't worry, I'll fix you a plate at Rocky's celebration barbecue, then I'll ship it to you I guess."
The two proceeded to argue about the semantics of Arlo keeping Weston's food from spoiling during this hypothetical "kindness." I could tell that Arlo was greatly amused, going back and forth with Weston like they were college roommates.
"All jokes aside", I said once they finished, "You both are more than welcome to visit the lookout. Door's always open."
I was somewhat surprised with myself for what I'd said, giving them permission to enter my life beyond their set 'working relationship' guidelines (more explicitly set by Weston, not Arlo). But I was happily surprised that I had fielded the possibility of a future where we succeeded in our goals and returned to our lives- The 'Afterwards.'
For one reason or another, that was hard for me to do on my own.
Oddly enough, I began to nod off. Without looking at the clock, my body made the decision that it was time to sleep.
I braced myself for what I had silently agreed would be another night where I'd awaken without feeling the slightest bit rested. I just assumed that my sleeps would get progressively worse until we reached the moon and I had the work to tire me out.
What I got was entirely different.
I had a dream. One I actually remembered. The "scene" was empty in its entirety. I was floating in a seemingly endless space.
Slowly but surely, the space filled with watercolor strokes, just like how I did when I was younger.
When I moved my paw, things began to appear. A cloud here, a grassy patch there.
Before I knew it, I had a landscape. But it was rough and wiggly, almost as if the colors barely clung to the surface of the space.
By that time, I started to half-realize I was in a dream.
They say your brain doesn't like figuring out that it's dreaming, hence why you usually wake up after you come to that conclusion.
However, my brain did not remind me of the fact that I was actually on a spacecraft slowly cruising towards the moon at what felt like a snail's pace.
The only conclusion I came to was that sitting still in this 'dream setting' was very warm and safe feeling.
Okay, so this is the part when something traumatic comes in and ruins everything, I thought.
At that point, the splotchy blobs of color and hue shifted without me moving.
They turned into visible, chalky brushstrokes.
Broad halos outlined yellow streaks through the sky, along with streetlamps and a ball that I couldn't differentiate between a sun or a moon.
It was slowly becoming less abstract- less like a kid painted it and more akin to The Starry Night.
From the suspended grove of trees appeared a steeple.
A dark water appeared upon a bank of sand I was only half-perceiving underneath me.
It wasn't exactly like Adventure Bay, but it was close.
I didn't even jump when the 'water' began to curl around my legs.
And then, it shifted again.
Like a spectacular deluge of form; as if the "painting" wanted to take advantage of its forcing me to be a part of its metamorphosis.
I couldn't move.
The sky broke into mad streaks of red and orange that appeared as if someone were scribbling them in before some time limit expired.
A myriad of falling stars plummeted into my view against the most sickening shade of crimson I'd ever seen- resembling a mixture between Edvard Munch's Anxiety and The Scream.
The very horizon bent under the sheer weight of the sky.
I woke up in a fit of heavy breathing.
I slowly peeked my head out of the sleeping compartment. Nothing of note was happening.
I don't always have sound reasoning while I dream. But I felt as though I didn't want to measure time based on how often I could force myself to sit in one spot with my eyes closed.
I wouldn't be able to trust my internal clock- which was proven by the fact that I would proceed to enter a three-hour cycle of sleeping and waking over the course of our next 'crew sleep-period.'
Still, just as Arlo had said at one point, it wasn't like I was missing anything.
Weston had slept the longest, but proceeded to inform me that I talked in my sleep.
That had never happened before. Not once in my life.
I began to wonder if sleeping the days away would work in my favor.
This was just a long mission, fixed against an eternal nighttime.
I couldn't rescue anything if I let a few weird dreams slow me down.
So, I kept my inner troubles to myself. But I didn't feel quite right- not by any stretch of the imagination.
***End of Ch. 29***