Chapter 31• Wooden Soldiers Burn
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********Flashback from Day 11*******
***The period between the events of Chapters 19 and 20***
I couldn't help but think back to a conversation I'd had with Kingsley, the mysterious and enthusiastic figure who plucked me from the Lookout and brought me to NASA to fix the "unfixable" mess they'd gotten themselves into.
It was right after the photography onslaught that had left Ms. Erena grinning from ear to ear.
Though I was exhausted, I was alert enough to catch Kingsley looking especially distraught in a side-office.
I was sore, numb, and more tired than I'd ever been- but I wanted an answer to the questions that had been eating me alive.
"Is now a good time?", I asked.
"Honestly, not really- but if I can get whatever you want off of my plate now it won't be added to my to-do list later", he said as he rubbed his eyes.
I wanted so desperately to tell him to just forget I'd asked and walk away, but I managed to cling to some courage somewhere. I cleared my throat and reset my thoughts.
"I want to know what happened 11 days ago", I said, "And more specifically, why I'm here. I mean- why I'm really here."
"Why?", he asked plainly.
"Because it feels like we skipped a step. I see what I saw on the news, then I'm thrown into a training program that's being graded every step of the way, and now that I've made the cut- launch prep and sponsor allaying is stopping everyone from looking back. Everyone is acting like there's nothing to worry about- like now that it's in our hands, it's not really their problem anymore."
"Looking back?", he backtracked.
"How did we get here, Mr. Kingsley?", I asked.
I admit, I was acting out of character again, but I didn't want him to just dismiss me and move on.
Kingsley seemed to concede something, like I'd found him out.
I always had a good feeling about him. In all sincerity, I hadn't thought much about his role in what was being spun as a freak accident. He had taken responsibility for the 'crisis' yes, but he was technically the hero already.
I didn't want him to feel like I was blaming him. No-one around seemed to blame him either. That being said, I didn't like operating with limited information.
"You still have the phone I gave you, correct? Video call me in 40 minutes-I'll tell you everything", he said.
So, I obeyed.
I found a relatively quiet room after 20 minutes of searching.
I called Kingsley and he picked up after 7 rings.
"What do you want to know?", he asked.
"I guess, everything from the part when you got word that the telescope was going to crash into Earth", I said.
He sighed and started, "I tried, Rocky. I was frantic….It all happened so fast. It went from a level 1 to a level 10 emergency in moments. NASA hasn't seen anything like that in years, I was still relatively new at my role. I had never seen the lights turn the color they did."
Right off the bat, I felt bad for him. I thought about apologizing and telling him to pretend my whole "investigation" never happened.
He continued, "I didn't have time to think twice. It was going to fall- I just pictured it coming down on top of a town somewhere in the middle of the night- no ample warning. I thought about how small my hometown is, the force from a fall like that would have leveled it. I wouldn't wish that on anyone- maybe that was selfish of me."
I felt obligated to interject- 'You didn't want anyone to die, that's why you did what you did! It wasn't your fault.' That was the inner rescuer in me.
He went on, desperate to get the specifics out of the way and prove to me that his intentions were pure, "The emergency fuel supplies hadn't been refilled since the last shuttle went up there. Everything I've done since has been to save my job."
He sighed, as though he regretted saying that last part.
I sighed too, "please be honest with me. Did you ask me to come to the Cape because NASA needed a dog with some name recognition?"
"Heavens no! I just- I remembered who you were. My son knows all about the PAW Patrol, he thinks you're heroes. I think- I think you're his favorite though", he said.
Deep down, I wanted to ask if he was lying about that last part. Even so, just the fact that he cared enough to lie (if he were being untruthful) meant that I didn't have to subject him to any mistrust.
"And trust me, you proved yourself when you beat out the other candidates; whether they were from NASA or not", he said, "I would never disrespect someone of your talent like that."
He returned to explaining what happened up to losing the telescope, "We sent the signal to fire the engines in the opposite direction to counter the fall. The engines pointed towards the Earth were, by design, weaker than the ones pointed away from the Earth. We knew it would work- we just….well-"
"You didn't think the reverse thrusters would get stuck and it just never stopped pushing", I said.
"Yeah….One last trajectory change to put it on attitude to merge with the moon's orbit and I figured we could worry about it years down the line", he said, sounding disappointed still, "Right after it happened, I kept going. I figured there was a way to stop it, maybe send something up after it to knock it out of the way or steer it back on course- guide it around the moon so that we could go get it at our leisure. So, I hopped on the phone immediately and started calling, knowing full-well we didn't have any unmanned rockets pad-ready. So, I reached the European Space Agency (ESA) and the Indian Space Research Organization (ISRO)- everything had to be top secret. They were the only two that were willing to act. I begged for help; I really did."
I was shocked. This really was way bigger than I had previously imagined.
ESA started backtracking to protocols and technicalities. First it was "Lack of astronauts", then it was "Lack of unmanned rockets", then it was "Bad weather."
"Oh?", I said.
"The ISRO actually got an unmanned rocket off the ground. But by then, it had already been a day and a half. It's amazing how fast you can make a rocket without having to worry about whether the force would kill a passenger- since their model was fast enough to make up the difference, but by the time it actually got to the moon we'd completely lost Origenes. The Government ordered a shutdown of surveillance satellites to avoid them being hacked and potentially taken over, so we had no way to tell anyone where it was."
He paused, then added, "Maybe I could have just asked someone to launch from out in Wyoming or somewhere out west- Even a private company or something. Anything else." He chuckled, "Maybe I should have just sent scary payload on a GRAIL rocket and blown it out of existence- call it an accident and save us all the headache.
I frowned.
"Y'know, when you panic, you aren't thinking about the big picture", Kingsley said, then paused.
"Well, I just threw a lot at you- but I guess that's what you wanted."
"Thank you", I said, not really sure where to take things next.
He replied, "None of my decisions got anywhere, Rocky, but they did get you here."
"Why me though? I wasn't even remotely close to you", I said.
"Well, I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but- we had a preliminary list that numbered 24 canine astronaut candidates in total. All of the other 8 Astros we actually brought in have a very specific style of conducting their specialties", I could tell he was smiling while he said that.
I was curious.
"Soot hums George Frideric Handel while he works- I've never seen anyone spot-fix the spacecraft exteriors during the sims like he can. Callum works with his eyes closed-literally, and is better than any human with 20-20 vision AND special glasses. Heck, I gave Lucille a list of the ascent engine schematics that we flipped in inverted order-just to throw her a curveball during one of the pop quizzes. We hadn't provided those for anyone aside from the Lunar Module pilot candidates at that point, so we knew she hadn't seen them yet. It wasn't like we were going to hold the results against her, but it only took her 20 minutes before she had memorized and recited them back to me- BACKWARDS. And she said, 'You gave it to me in the wrong order, so I recited them in the wrong order.'"
Woah, I thought, utterly baffled.
I knew the others were good; I didn't know they were that good.
"And I've seen you work before, videos anyway. You are by far the most consistent. It was a coin-flip, but it paid off. Watching you work in person, as far as I'm concerned, was like calling a famous chef one minute only for them to come waltzing into your home and cook your family a 5-star quality meal the next. You were the answer to our prayers, I know that! The exact missing piece we needed to bring Origenes home!", he said.
"We don't know that yet, we don't even know if we're all wasting our time", I argued.
"That's true. But you know what? Every time you did something spectacular- from that time you almost died during the underwater sim-I said to myself, 'Yeah- Rocky really is that good!' And I took great pleasure in repeating that to every higher-up who doubted me- Sorry, doubted us."
I wasn't sure whether I should have felt flattered at that moment, but I did.
That was the end of Kingsley's heart-to-heart with me.
I thanked him. I guess at that point he either wanted to pivot to the massive amount of work he still had to get done or he just wanted to change the subject to something lighter before he hung up.
"They just sent me the pictures, they're really happy with them", he managed with all the enthusiasm he could muster during what I knew had to be an uncomfortable call for him.
"I'm…... sure they are", I said numbly. I just wasn't able to manufacture any more energy at that point without a recharge. I didn't even consider it back then, but I probably should have talked to him more.
The only thing I reasoned at that point was how the astronaut 'image' still didn't fit me. I still couldn't tell.
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**End of flashback**
*Day 17 of Origenes Crisis*
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I had no clue why this conversation was brought back to my remembrance, but it put me in a headspace for more quiet contemplation.
I reasoned with my own thoughts once more. By the time the first space shuttle launched in 1972, NASA's canine astronaut program was halted until the early 2000s. But they covered up Ritz- No, not only him, but his great-great-great grandfather. Had they not let him speak to us from the firing room before launch, I would have never known. Why did NASA become so tight-lipped one second, then flip to full disclosure the next? Who knows how they actually define 'disclosure' anyway? Who was I to defend them?
This must have spurred some confidence in me, since I cast aside any hesitation for "professionalism's sake" and told Arlo and Weston a shortened version of my conversation with the pups and Ryder regarding my long stint of PAW Patrol inactivity.
I left some things out. Specifically, I didn't lament about how useless I'd felt, how I compared my lackluster resume with that of the others, and that I had first ignored the NASA news until it had literally crawled its way to the lookout lawn.
I also didn't tell them that I cried, of course.
Weston, who I expected to have a lengthy list of comments, remained silent.
I guess he could have figured that I wasn't in the role of an "essential first responder."
Arlo looked pensively, then said, "Well clearly, they aren't looking for quality when they pick who stays and who goes."
"When you say 'they', you mean that boy- Ryder?", Weston questioned.
"Yeah, what business does he have benching Rocky for that long", Arlo said.
Arlo must have felt that his words were coming across more caustic than he meant them.
"No offense to your friends of course, that was supposed to be a compliment to your talents", he added.
I chuckled, "I appreciate it Arlo."
"I don't think I've ever asked you, what's your official title in the PAW Patrol?", Weston inquired.
"Fixer/Recycling-pup", I said.
"So, you just sit and wait- like an obedient puppy, until someone tells you to move?", Weston asked.
"I mean, not any more than you would, Weston", I snapped back, remembering Arlo's instructions on making sure I didn't bend under Weston's pressure.
Weston narrowed his eyes at my retort but didn't say anything.
"Wait. I feel like someone, somewhere told me you were like the team mechanic or something in that capacity", Arlo said.
"Well, I do know a lot about machinery, but we're all supposed to know how to fix our own vehicles. I try to make myself available until someone needs me. Or needs 'us', we all do", I said- not sure where the conversation was leading.
We were closing in on the moon, the start of the 'real' mission – yet there were so many questions about me still? Was that my fault?
From where I sat, it appeared as though Weston didn't really understand the PAW Patrol- despite all I'd shared with them. It was never about obedience, per se. Moreover, we were responsible for public service and support.
The way Weston pried; you would expect him to ask me how much we got paid for our services. (The answer is nothing). Maybe he just didn't want to understand it.
"Hmmmm", Arlo said, "'Fixer/ Recycling' pup's way too narrow of a scope for you."
This conversation felt out of place; like it should have come up days prior when we had barely anything to look forward to. I could tell Arlo was doing it on purpose, trying to divert the seriousness of our situation.
In truth, it wasn't making me feel any better.
Just then, a long beep sounded from the center console.
I jumped, still a bit unsettled from the alarm. Sadly, I was the only one to react that way.
Arlo floated back up and grabbed the center console radio.
Mission control was making contact. "30 minutes until orbit."
At that moment, we felt the craft move, tilting upwards from the back end.
It was our very first major correction since TLI- just when Cygnus neared its apogee- to get us on the right attitude to merge into the moon's gravity.
So, similarly to our launch trajectory, we just barely overshot the moon. No problem.
I was the very first to drop my visor.
Weston saw and half-smiled as if he expected nothing less from the crew's resident "Rule-follower." I wanted to follow the ledger as closely as possible, so if that made me some sort of outlier, at least I'd be the safest one in the "room."
We were deep into Lunar Orbit Insertion 1 (LOI-1); a maneuver that had to go down 100% perfectly. Mission control had abandoned the callouts and filled out an electronic poll for "Go/No-go" status. It was a unanimous "Go" for us. Even though we'd have to undergo a corrective maneuver once on the far side of the moon, we could do it without Mission control's help- we hoped anyway.
Arlo began one last check of the spacecraft systems and made sure that every switch was in its correct position.
If all went well, we'd barely feel the moon "grab" us.
The protocol dictated that the hatch between modules be shut behind us while we waited in the cockpit.
30 minutes…20 minutes… 10 minutes….
We approached the massive, black sphere. Because of the Sun's light, the moon's tidal lock with Earth, we couldn't see it very well. It was just a huge black blob, blotting out the stars. But, in time, the sun would illuminate its grand craters just like the pictures.
"Well, we're 'home'", Arlo said.
Arlo and Weston seemed to lack the pseudo-dreamy optimism that they'd displayed leading up to launch.
But they were locked in unlike anything I'd seen.
Speaking over the radios that I couldn't hear, they flipped switches, pointed at notebooks strapped to their suits and enabled programs that made the console screens turn a whole manner of colors that I didn't even know they could.
No joke, one button turned sea-foam green. I was flabbergasted.
And then, I heard from the Orange Team.
"Rocky, this is Orange. How do you copy?"
I smiled, as Zuma also used to use his color rather than his name on missions.
"I copy- loud and clear", I replied.
"Great. Ready to get you on the ground A.S.A.P."
A few exchanges went on between the three of us (meaning on our shared crew channel) and the much more gruff-sounding and direct Orange Team.
The only thing outside of strict business talk we got from them was that, in a semi-poetic turn, it seemed as if all of the places where the NASA teams were stationed found themselves subjected to very high amounts of rain.
"We're in clear comms with you- all while it's raining on the rest of the world", as they'd said.
At least it was the areas that constituted our connections back to the world- Houston and Cape Kennedy.
It made sense, since we would lose them for over an hour, we had to fit as much in as we could.
Although there was no rush, we weren't cleared to separate and wouldn't be until a bare minimum of 5 full rotations (give or take 10.5 hours on the low side).
"You're in-work for a midcourse SPS propulsion burn set for 73 minutes from now", the Orange Team said.
"Alright, hopefully we'll be back in contact by then. Wait on us", Arlo said.
"Copy that- Standby- don't do anything dumb, you're too close."
"I'd never dream of it", Arlo said with a laugh.
And so, we were back to waiting. We all got to experience the dark side of the moon together. It was about as haunting as you could imagine. Dark and quiet.
I could hear a quiet crackle followed by silence not even 5 minutes after Orange Team's last call- the exact second that we'd lost radio contact with Houston.
I clicked my comm button again- nothing.
"Back to the waiting, didn't you miss it?", Arlo asked sarcastically over the radio.
This 1 hour and 15 minutes of quiet followed by 45 minutes of noise -cycle would be Arlo's entire life for days. It would stay that way for as long as we worked on the moon.
Arlo's importance could not be understated. I knew it, even as he once again casually leaned back in his seat.
He'd have to launch the rendezvous sequence at the perfect time to grab us before we dipped back behind the moon- once our repairs were done. This, of course, being the first sequence of maneuvers to ever be attempted- comprising three vehicles in lunar orbit at once, trying to jam as much into the 45 minutes of sunlight we'd have.
Although it's technically possible to do it with remote-sensory tech alone- it would be a lot more dangerous. We could, in theory, smash right into each other if we couldn't see-regardless of what the systems on each module said.
On paper, they'd cease being perfectly synched once Weston and I descended in our half, but all of this was up to Arlo to pull off. Weston and I were the "repair team" while Arlo served as "extractor"- perhaps even "rescuer." It took me no more than ten minutes to realize that the dark side of the moon was a terrifying place.
"Can you believe they're going to launch a landing mission to this side?", Weston asked.
I wasn't sure which one of us he was asking, so I replied.
"Do we know if they're sending dogs, or human astronauts?"
"Well, that would depend on how this mission goes, I assume", Weston replied.
"Well, while they can't hear us….I just want to say- if they're smart, they'll send dogs like us to the dark side first", Arlo spoke to us both for the first time in a while. His voice was very quiet.
"Did I hear that right?", Weston asked, "I feel like you of all people would hate how that looks. Using us like test subjects before they send anyone else."
"On the contrary, I think we deserve the honor. Let us actually 'go where no man had gone before' and plant the flag on the far side. Let history teach about that", Arlo said.
"Have you been getting enough sleep, Commander?", Weston asked in a way I felt sounded a bit too sincere.
Arlo broke his gaze from the console for the first time and peered over, "Enough to keep going", he said.
I, not wanting the tension to escalate now that we were so close, decided to interject.
"I agree with both of you, really. I feel like you're both saying the same thing, kinda. Just…in your own ways."
"Nobody likes a fence-sitter, Rocky", Weston chided.
"Weston, it wasn't even an argument- you can't have a 'fence-sitter' if there's no 'fence'", Arlo returned.
"I'm just genuinely asking, that's all. Especially since I'm about to be relegated to babysitting our 'backseat driver' over here", Weston said.
"I don't need a babysitter", I said, once again trying to ensure Weston couldn't hang the last word over me.
This time, however, it didn't sound nearly as clever. I sat in silence for a bit and thought about how I could fix it to make myself sound more mature.
"I-I mean….I've never needed one- Y- you know what I mean", I managed. Good job, Rocky, I thought to myself sarcastically.
They must have switched channels, because the conversation between us three ended there.
Arlo had turned once again to Weston and said something, I hoped it was him telling Weston to get off of my back, but I couldn't tell.
But I could tell just how much our simulators underdelivered when they tried to replicate lunar orbit.
Orbits around the moon are not perfectly elliptical- so it felt very strange and 'bumpy' for lack of a better term.
It did not stay smooth for long as we wobbled and shook- this time worse than what felt like airplane turbulence before. I held on to the seatbacks.
The moon's gravity was switching between pulling us down and pushing us away- we just happened to be stuck in the happy medium. But we couldn't stay there forever.
With no radio, we had to face our most important milestone- A lunar midcourse correction maneuver. Our service Propulsion System- SPS- engine was about to refine Cygnus' trajectory.
If done wrong, the moon would either yank us down to the surface and give us a dusty resting place like Origenes or it would exploit its mass advantage and slingshot us back towards our home planet.
We'd exploit the latter maneuver when undergoing Trans-Earth injection to return, but we hoped there would be a fixed space telescope coming with us at that point.
We wanted to end up 81 miles above the surface at lowest.
And so, the critical burn would occur under our own watch- with only Arlo's approval.
Weston turned to him.
"SPS engine is primed – we'll go in about 5 minutes", Arlo said to Weston and I.
"You sure?", Weston asked.
"We trust you", I assured.
He clued me in on the time with his right paw over his shoulder, just like he'd done during the launch countdown.
Hard to believe it had only been three-and-a-half days since then.
And just like then, Arlo took his charge.
4 minutes…...
3 minutes…...
2 minutes…
1 minute…
"Alright. Go for SPS burn", Arlo said, "In 10…5…...3…2..1- Ignition!"
The SPS engine fired for 18.4 full seconds, pushing the vehicle's speed to match the moon's most stable gravitational levels.
Once again, our bumpy orbit smoothed out, little-by-little.
"Aaaaaaaannnd, cutoff", Arlo said, "Altitude is 82.3 miles above the surface. We'll have a good report when we re-establish comms."
He then added, "Just don't act up on me, now", as he pointed to the center console- addressing the Cygnus as if the vehicle could hear him.
I smiled, though I hadn't done anything.
The last 40 minutes began its merciless slog past us.
I had just accepted the fact that I probably wouldn't be called upon for anything.
My eyelids drooped. I snapped back awake, only for them to droop again.
What are you doing?, I thought to myself. I stared at the expansive blackness ahead through my visor.
I figured that, although I wasn't supposed to sleep, I wasn't exactly needed either.
And so, I put my head back and slept. For the first time, I was able to listen to what my poor, overworked brain wanted.
I slept surprisingly well.
But I couldn't help but worry even as I slept- not that my fellow astros would notice and say something- but that I'd awaken to Houston's call to abandon the space telescope we'd been so hastily trained to fix.
We'd get our answer, whether I liked what they had to say or not.
***End of Ch. 31***