Chapter 33• Headstorm
Content Warning: Not to spoil too much, but this chapter may be a bit intense-especially if you don't like the dark and/or small spaces!
*Day 18 of Origenes Crisis*
Quick Author's Note: The 'Day' Cycle is going to get weird at this part, since the sleep periods for the Cygnus crew will not directly coincide with Earth days.
To explain: the "Day # of Origenes Crisis" bits are going to be referring to what is listed as 'Work Periods' for the astronauts by NASA and not necessarily how many days have passed back on Earth.
Long story short- this is from Rocky's Point of View for right now, so it's going to reflect what he perceives as "Days" from his vantage-point going forward, since working on the moon follows a different cycle. Just something I wanted to mention. Thanks for stopping by, Read on!
…
**Rocky's POV**
I had no trouble sleeping during our first "night" on the moon. Everything had cushions, even the storage- ensuring that we wouldn't mess up our suits against a jagged edge, but also that we could actually stretch out and sleep.
Shortly after landing, we realized that the ground we'd landed on wasn't exactly soft, and we didn't mean that it wasn't like sand or gravel- we were sitting on rock.
So, the landing legs, meant to press down into the surface, were just sitting on top. (Think about a tent spike going into a slab of granite instead of going into dirt and you'll see why our situation was peculiar.)
Since the rock was uneven, the bottom of Chapel was originally tilted forward thanks to all four of the lander's legs being on completely different elevations.
If I had a marble and placed it on the floor, it would have rolled straight to Weston's corner.
Thankfully our lander was fitted with hydraulics. It was able to tilt the module itself to where all four legs held the module floors level.
Our pressures were good and the air within Chapel was more breathable than some places on Earth. Or so the module told us. It was always scary putting your life in the hands of some numbers on a gauge.
Still, Weston took his helmet off first. Everything was fine, in fact he claimed it still smelled like a new car.
Weston hadn't said much other than recommending I sleep. "You've got bags under your eyes- fix that", he'd said.
He didn't have to tell me twice.
Having so much cushioned space was great and taking the helmet off was heavenly. I scratched every inch of my face and stretched every inch of my body.
"Alright, Goodnight Weston", I said before drifting into the best sleep I'd ever had since Earth.
And when I awoke, I felt great. A smile crept to my face.
Weston was snoozing in the corner. It was my first time getting a good, still look at the bizarre Shiba Inu that I'd be depending on as my primary support going forward.
He even slept serious, if that makes sense.
Once I rolled to stand up his ears twitched and he opened his eyes. Weston's eyes were an odd color, a slate blue- more greyish than the icy blue of Marshall's eyes.
Getting straight to business, Weston started with, "Well, I took care of all of the comm-checks- all except your connection to Chapel and Houston."
"Alright then, I can do that", I said before firing off a few test comms to Houston.
"We hear you loud and clear, Rocky. We know you haven't seen it yet, but do you figure we can expect a fixed Origenes before long", came the semi-humorous reply.
"If how I feel right now is any indication, I think you may be onto something", I replied back.
Weston, who most definitely was listening to all of this, didn't say anything. In fact, he looked as if he'd just received awful news and was waiting to break it to me.
"Is everything alright Weston?", I asked, "Or, wait- are you a 'commander' now? What am I supposed to call you?"
"'Weston' is fine, I don't need any honorifics", he replied.
"Okay, you look- distressed", I said, curious as if this was just 'nice Weston' showing that he was concerned.
"Well, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't distressed. I guess whatever I say next is going to hinge on how you answer my question", he said, "How soon do you want to go out there?"
"As soon as we can", I said without missing a beat, my suited tail wagging back and forth before I stopped it.
Weston continued in his serious tone, "Okay, listen. Communication between us needs to be deliberate, open, and as clear-cut as possible. I'm not in your suit, so I can't tell what's going on with you. You have to tell me. Our lives are in the most danger now. If I can help, let me know. And if I can't, just tell me to get out of the way."
Systems on Chapel were advanced enough to tell if my suit got too hot or cold, so Weston could monitor from the comfort of his seat. But his own words implied he wasn't going to let me go out alone.
Although I was unsure if he'd remain so eager to join me, it made me feel better, especially since protocol dictated so.
"I promise, I'll be 100% honest with you", I said.
We were already dressed for the occasion. We'd have to repressurize the suits and check for leaks once more- but we'd be ready in no time at all.
Our first step was to examine Origenes inside and out to ensure repairs were even feasible.
Leaving the lunar module sitting empty while we went to examine the damage was a very scary premise, but the mission was designed to carry on even if both astros were accidentally locked out of the hatch. There was a way to open it up in case of emergencies, and although I knew how in theory, I only read the description of how it worked.
Weston was explaining it during our final leak checks- which were so much easier than they had ever been. All we had to do was plug any of the ports on our suits into a socket on the console and the module would tell us if our suits were compromised or not.
"It's a lever on the south-facing side of the module-well, the side that's facing the south of the moon I should say. It's in the undercarriage", Weston said.
"I'm really hoping we won't need it- you'll leave the door cracked, won't you?", I asked.
"If that makes things easier, I will. I hope you're ready to walk, by the way, it's about ten minutes to get there", Weston said.
"Wait, the walk is ten minutes?", I asked, not hearing the console chime.
"Yep, but the good news is, there's a straight shot from here to the telescope crash site", Weston said with optimism.
"How did we shoot that short?", I asked before I finally realized that my suit was fine and unhooked myself from the wall.
"It was the last second correction- it was my fault. I even asked the Orange team if we could re-lift and land closer-they said it would be 'a waste of fuel.' We have to work with what we've got", Weston replied.
"Do you want to eat first?", Weston asked. I declined. I knew it wasn't a great idea, but I was committed to laying my paws on the telescope right then and there. Armed only with my smaller tool-kit, I went towards the main door.
"We're set for Damage Assessment EVA, over* click *"
"You're clear for EVA, over* beep *"
The main door sat in its own 'room' so to speak, which was just about 5-feet wide. Only one of us could enter or exit at a time. This compartment was matched to the livable pressure of our module. Once it closed, it would depressurize to match the moon's pressure, allowing the outer door to open at no harm to the exiting astronaut. We'd have to repressurize the compartment again for the second astro to exit, but it wouldn't take more than 5-7 minutes. The process would carry on in reverse when we'd come back.
So, I was up first, trying my best not to bump into the walls.
Through the tiny window, I saw Weston watching the gauge. A light inside turned red to signify the compartment had matched the moon's pressure.
"You're good", Weston said.
"Okay, I'm gonna open her up!". I replied.
My heart raced once again. I was about to be the first living being to step foot on the moon in decades.
Actually, I didn't care about that as much. I, Rocky from Adventure Bay, was about to actually WALK on the moon.
I refused to think too much about it, I wasn't going to say anything to reference Neil Armstrong's famous quote 'for all dog-kind', nor did I want to make a heartfelt dedication to everyone who helped us get there.
In fact, if I hadn't looked back up to see Weston holding our camera up to the window, I wouldn't even have known it was being recorded.
I was going to soak up the moment with my entire being- it didn't need words.
The hatch slowly creeped open as I turned the handle. No wind filled the space, but I looked down under me to see the gray, untouched surface below.
I took a deep breath and climbed down the small ladder that had extended down after the landing sequence was completed.
I stepped down, back feet first, and barely sunk into the fine, powdery dust. I turned myself around and then it all sunk in. Where I was.
The grey surface spanned in all directions, littered with overlapping craters and small boulders, all lit by the unimpeded light of the sun. In all honesty, I could have cried. The peak of Mons Huygens, although far away from us, seemed to loom over our tiny lander from the near-horizon.
Another soul, be it human or pup, may have looked at the dusky, lonely, bumpy planes and been disappointed.
"This is it?," they would say. "No color, no signs of life- just a grey desert? What was worth all the trouble?"
To me, the surface shined like a massive pearl. I laughed to myself, then jumped up with my back legs to land on my front. The 1/6th of Earth's gravity was magical. I was having genuine fun and didn't even realize it. I laughed again, as I jumped over a row of grapefruit-sized rocks. It was insanely easy. I knew I couldn't manage a full flip, but I desperately wanted to try.
"Weston, you've got to come out here and try this!", I said, sounding every bit like a puppy who wasn't there to do a job.
Sure enough, in three minutes he exited the lander for the first time. The unrestricted sun glinted off of our helmets in bright streaks.
I looked behind me to see the pristine footprints our boots left.
Weston looked around and nudged a pile of "moon-dust", which is technically impact debris called regolith.
"Phew," he whistled, "That really is something. It is beautiful, I have to give it credit."
"I'm sure the moon will thank you", I replied.
Weston did hop once, and I guess that was sufficient for him. He then grabbed a small map from his pack and pointed.
"That's the way, ten-minute walk. Whenever you're satisfied, we can go."
"Okay, guess we should", I said. Our tails stopped wagging. Fun-time was over.
As we walked, our steps familiarized us with our uneven environment. In some spots, the fine dust particles we stepped upon sat several meters thick, but in others you could feel it shift under your feet. You could definitely roll an ankle if you were running. Think about packed snow with invisible patches of fine, non-sticking snow- all atop a layer of hard ice; that's about as close as Earth conditions could come to replicating the feel.
So, we walked, one uneven step at a time. Every now and then Weston would stop and point at something notable we passed.
I'd usually respond with something like, "woah" or "that's amazing" before realizing he couldn't hear me because I forgot to push the button.
Eventually we activated the "non-stop channel", which was basically a radio mode where it was non-stop activated without having to press the button; this only came at the cost of having to hear each other breathe, a lot more interference, and no contact with Arlo- who we hadn't heard from at all since immediately after landing. It was for no lack of Weston's trying.
Three landmarks passed us by on our route: A huge split-boulder that rivaled the size of a minivan, a cluster of four overlapping craters that resembled a four-leaf clover, and then a rock that sat at an angle that made it look like a tiny Mt. Fuji.
"We'll have to take pictures of those", I said.
"I'm just glad we have stuff like that to break up the repetition", Weston responded.
As I looked ahead, the moon's weird, non-stop sunlight played tricks on the objects in the distance.
I'd only seen the crashed telescope from above and every time I swore I saw it, whatever I thought it was just ended up being a rock or a weird shadow. If we had a rover, it would be a piece of cake, but being on the moon gave me every bit of energy I needed and more.
It had been ten minutes and Weston and I stopped near a ridge we assumed was natural.
"Hey wait", I began.
"That's a crater, right?", Weston said, "Impact field."
"Wait, it looks kinda weird, don't you think?", I asked.
Once we approached what we thought was the edge of the crater, we came upon the crashed Origenes telescope. We had almost walked right past it.
You could still see its impact skid, of course, which spanned about 90 feet (27.432 meters)– confirming our guess that its orbit deteriorated over time, and it slid onto the surface rather than falling like a rock. Given the moon's chaotic orbit, this was a miracle.
Yet what surprised us both was the giant pile of dust it pushed up once it stopped, creating the seemingly solid dust formation. Once Weston pushed into it to confirm it wasn't actually rock- the dust hill fell away like a sandcastle.
"Well, there she is. It actually looks serviceable", Weston said before turning to me, "Right?"
"Well…...", I began, "I'm gonna have to look inside to see for sure."
I tried not to let how absolutely ruined our once pristine suits had become bother me. Weston and I looked like we'd been wading through a plaster swamp. I told myself it didn't matter.
Damage assessment had begun. I grabbed a tiny clipboard and began to check the boxes. It was just like the simulations- the size of a school bus sporting four solar arrays (panels) at about half of its length. At first look, I was amazed by the massive scorch-marks on its side.
Even in orbit, the space telescope was always barely fighting off an eventual reentry. The engines were concerning, but they were entirely depleted.
The bottom showed surprisingly minor damage from scraping across the moon. As fine as the regolith was, it must have provided some kind of cushion. The bottom, which we couldn't see until we'd lift it up in the late stages of repair, was what really concerned me. If there was a hole in the side, I'd have to fix it before we did anything fuel-related. One of the arrays, which look like huge square wings jutting from the telescope's side, was slightly bent.
Thankfully, we had an Electron beam welder with us, a tool that uses a vacuum rather than shielding gasses to protect the weld- making it so I could fix anything so long as it involved metal-on-metal. My official diagnosis after examining every visible inch and walking the perimeter twice was simple, "Hey Houston, I'm worried about the bottom, but the exterior is definitely fixable."
"Copy that, Rocky. We've been waiting to hear good news for 18 days, believe me *beep*"
I'm sure NASA officials everywhere breathed sighs of relief back home. Some might have spun around in their chairs in celebration.
"I think the easy part's done", I said.
"Okay, so then- you're going in?", Weston asked.
"Houston?", I asked.
"*Static*, we hear you- copy", Mission control said.
"Do I have permission to break that hatch open?", I asked.
"From the words of Maddox- Break what you need to break", was the reply.
I laughed, "Don't worry, I'll fix it on my way out."
I approached the beast warily as Weston watched my back.
I lifted my suited paw to touch the telescope's side- but I stopped. Just for a moment, I had to stop and realize just what had taken place. The last living people to touch this were lost, I thought, they never made it home. A routine trip up to Earth's orbit ending in tragedy. The Atalanta crew- I wonder what their families are thinking right now.
"Hey, are you okay?", Weston asked.
"Yeah…. I'm alright", I lied.
"I should have brought the camera with me, everyone's probably going to want to see the 'first approach' as it happened", Weston said enthusiastically.
"I'm actually kind of glad you didn't", I stated, hating to rain on his 'parade', "It's a bit solemn, don't you think?"
I didn't have to see him to realize he'd understood what I meant.
"Of course. Do you need a hand there?", he asked.
"Yes, just to get it started" I said.
The hatch was an inch thick and anything with an edge that was somewhat sharp presented somewhat of a danger to our suits. Fortunately, one of the many pouches on our suits was big enough to house several of my tools. The NASA tools usually felt so flimsy compared to my tried-and-true sets in Adventure Bay, but I bent the hatch with hardly any effort.
I wedged the wrench in the door- pushing it open like a soda can. Slowly, the ten screws began to loosen, and I was able to fit my paws in the opening. Weston and I both braced ourselves on the Telescope's side and pulled the hatch backwards.
The screws holding it in place were tightened to the point where I couldn't turn them to the right- even with an electric screwdriver. The maintenance crew had tightened them on the previous mission in accordance with the established directive- the main compartment was never to be opened again. Origenes was to serve for as long as it could manage and only after its systems died would NASA launch its de-orbit plans.
If I could fix it like I wanted to do, it wouldn't need to be de-orbited for 5 decades at the least.
I unscrewed, one-by-one. Since I would be the one re-sealing the hatch, I didn't have to worry about what happened to the screws- but I chose to.
"Can't we just break it open?- it looks loose enough", Weston stated.
"No, the screws will fly everywhere", I replied.
"Okay, I doubt a screw-head is sharp enough to pierce the suits now", he said, a hint of concern in his tone.
"Yeah, you're right- but I'm going to do it the old-fashioned way."
"Do you, want me to do that?- I can unscrew stuff too."
"I just want to keep them; I don't want them just strewn about wherever they happen to land", I said, "We might need them later."
"Alright, you're the boss", Weston said.
I worked better while I talked, oddly enough. I managed to swing the hatch open on my own.
The interior was pitch-black.
Weston watched as I remotely raised the temperature in my suit.
"So…going in", he said uneasy. For the first time since we'd met, he actually sounded concerned for me.
It wasn't built for inhabitants. An adult human would only be able to fit half of his body into the service bay, and I had to scope out the entire interior.
"Houston, I'm about to enter the telescope. Wish me luck."
I got static in return.
"It's the only way to know for sure, I'm just glad I'm not too claustrophobic", I said to Weston.
"Let me know if something shifts in there, I'll pull you out if I have to", Weston said.
"Copy your entry, Rocky. Stay on open comms- over*beep", came the Orange Team's reply.
I turned on the flashlight on the side of my helmet and looked in. Not as scary.
"I'll be back soon", I said to Weston.
"Be careful", he said back.
I climbed in and instantly came face-to-face with the side of the Space Telescope Imaging Spectrograph- a broad, hexagonal structure that spans 1/3rd of the telescope's length. It was the tightest squeeze.
(Quick Note: If you want a visual, just google what the Hubble space telescope looks like- that's what I pulled the concept from)
"Woah, I've got almost negative wiggle-room against this thing", I said, "I would shimmy up the side against the wall if I didn't have the suit for sure, but not with it."
Despite the position I was in, my tail was wagging.
"How much space do you have?", Weston said.
"Like- an Angel-hair noodle's worth of space", I replied.
"Do you-"
"No, I don't need you to pull me out yet", I said before Weston could finish asking, "thanks for the offer though."
"Okay, good", Weston said, sounding slightly more stressed than before.
I slowly pressed myself against the smooth interior wall and managed to get by- though it was a very stressful experience. I had already silently decided that I'd just cut a hole in the top to avoid the fiasco the next time.
I heard a beep followed by muffled speech.
Weston then said, "Rocky, the Orange Team says they're concerned about your suit temperature."
I looked at the small temperature gauge on my suit. It had jumped up to 90 degrees F (32.222 degrees C). "Thanks, I've got it", I said.
As I turned the dial on my suit down to 65 degrees F (18.3333 degrees C), I didn't feel that immediate relief I was used to. Whenever this issue came up before, I didn't have to wait to feel the difference.
Weston informed me that his readout said that my suit had only dropped 5 degrees down.
"I'm fine…I'm sure it'll just take a minute", I said.
One of the communication antennas was also wedged into the bottom side, sticking out like a shark fin in the floor. I didn't think it was sharp enough to puncture anything, but I made sure to avoid it.
Static sounded in my ear.
"What's that Houston, say again?"
I got nothing in return.
It was the communication antenna on the top of Origenes that was likely the "sign of life" that Houston had heard.
Then I heard, "Rocky!", from Weston.
"Yup, everything okay?", I replied.
"Houston says to check the primary mirror", came his reply.
Origenes is a special type of telescope- one that utilizes mirrors instead of lenses to bring distant objects it sees into focus. The primary mirror is one large 7.9-foot (2.4-meter) diameter disk of Ultra-Low Expansion Glass- weighing 1,825-pounds (828-kilograms).
To my surprise, the massive mirror in the interior wasn't where it was supposed to be.
I looked down to find a pile of glass dust- although it would allow me to freely go between halves- replacing it would throw my entire plan out of whack.
"It's pulverized", I said, "total loss- will you let them know?", I told Weston.
"We have a replacement, right?", he asked.
"We do- it's just….that's going to complicate things", I admitted as I walked over the huge pile of glass.
Cleaning that is going to take forever, I thought.
Now slinking across the rigid support systems within, I checked what I was calling the "back half."
Slowly but surely, I started to pant, and small patches of condensation began to build up on the inside of my helmet.
I started to breathe through my nose as I kept pushing. I could see another snag in our plans beginning to form. The telescope's Aperture door had broken off and stuck downwards into the main compartment- like a lid sticking down into the can after you used a can-opener.
I was going to say, 'It doesn't look too bad in here', but that would be somewhat of a lie.
The last thing I had to check would be the pesky circuitry within the electronic boxes on the support system module beneath the fine guidance sensor.
As I turned, my muscles began to ache.
Weston chimed back in, "Okay Rocky, if what I'm seeing is any indication- we need to get you back, we can try again later- you're approaching 98 degrees- that's fever territory."
"A fever for humans, not us", I replied.
"Still, your suit shouldn't have a fever smarty-pants!", Weston insisted.
"I know, I need to check the circuits first, it'll be on my way out", I said.
Although Weston was clearly concerned, it wasn't necessarily his call as to how this portion of the mission went. I knew I could keep going because NASA's training had doubled my endurance.
Sure, the fatigue was setting in- my legs were beginning to ache as if I'd ran a mile. The weight of the suit was like an endurance test, but the environment was cold- it should have been more like a recovery-period, I thought, anyway.
I knew I still had plenty left in me.
"Ask the Orange Team, see how they want to proceed", I said.
Through the static I could hear Weston ask, "Proceed with what?"
"I'm halfway done, I can finish this now or we can leave and come back later- what's best?"
"You can't keep going like that Rocky", Weston said.
"It's Rocky's call", the Orange Team said, "we've lost biometrics on you both- so you're going to have to monitor that on your own."
I looked up as my flashlight began to flicker. The Secondary mirror hung above me, I had to check it too.
12 inches (30.5 centimeters) in diameter, it reflected the light back through a hole in the primary mirror and into the instruments at the end. But, oddly enough, a combination of the force of the crash and the moon's gravity had shifted the mirror to where it pointed slightly towards the telescope's left side.
The support arms that held it up were askew. I figured I had bumped or shifted something, or maybe the landing had been just that rough. I tilted my head to get a better look and noticed that the mirror was slowly slipping from its bearings.
I had noticed it far too late.
All 27.4 pounds (12.4 kg) of its frame fell, all I could do was turn around, so it didn't crack my helmet. It landed on my life-support backpack, which evenly distributed the force. 27.4 pounds was nothing to panic about, especially in slightly lower gravity, but I lacked the space and leverage to push it off of me. Since the mirror itself was bulky, like my suit, I was stuck-plain and simple.
"Oh- crap!-", the weight literally knocking the words out of my mouth. "Weston!", I half-shouted and half-coughed.
"What happened?", he replied.
"Please get in here, the mirror fell on me!", I managed to respond.
"I thought you said it was destroyed!", he said.
"Not that one, the other one- the smaller one!", I said, "I think I can…"
I tried to push it again, no luck. "Nevermind, I can't do it."
"Oh, Good Lord, h-how do I get in there?", Weston stammered.
"J-Just hug the wall and try to- try to shimmy alongside it", I managed, as I began to notice that my exhales were starting to take a bit more energy out of me.
I realized that Weston, being slightly bigger than me, probably wouldn't be able to get through as fast as I did.
Oh man, why didn't I just cut the hole in the side once I got in?, I thought to myself.
I started to panic. My body was weakening with every breath I took. My vision got slightly blurry until I'd inhale. I couldn't even hear what the Orange Team was saying in my ear, it sounded like jumbled mess.
My legs were also beginning to grow weak, but I couldn't risk falling over. The edges of the broken supports were sharp, and the weight would be enough to rip my suit open.
Come on Rocky, you're not this weak- are you?, I screamed in my own head, trying to tell myself that it wasn't anything heavier than I could manage.
Plenty of things weighed 25 pounds on Earth; three gallon jugs of water, an average two-year-old child, ½ a bag of gardener's mulch, five bags of sugar, two and a half car tires. The 2.5 extra pounds should have been negligible- in Earth terms.
But the lens and its frame had a combined MOON-weight of 27.4 pounds, I was in no way prepared to lift that regardless of environment. On Earth it would have probably killed me-especially if I weren't expecting it.
It was then that I started seeing spots in my vision. The not-even 30-pound weight felt like a metric ton on my back. I wasn't like Marshall and Rubble, I had never properly weight-trained in my life.
I had never had a panic attack before, but I assumed that hyperventilating was part of it. I couldn't control my breathing- likely because the life support system on my back, which pumped oxygen and Nitrogen through the tubes connected to the suit, began to warp under the weight.
It wouldn't destroy them- NASA engineered all parts of the suits to bend for this exact reason- but I could tell I wasn't getting enough air.
In my mind I held my own life in my hands.
My heart was racing- my suit was letting me know how much trouble I was in. First one alarm sounded, then two.
I started to sink to the ground, little-by-little.
No…., I thought.
I managed to shift my weight towards the right side where the supports were still in-tact.
If I can just slip out before it hits the ground, I should be alright, I thought.
"Hang in there, Rocky. I'm on my way!", Weston said.
Suddenly, I couldn't see- both because condensation that had overtaken my helmet began to drip down my face, and the fact that my flashlight gave out.
Oh man, am I really going to die like this? No! It's so unceremonious- so pathetic, I thought.
I knew good and well that anything benign on Earth could turn deadly on the moon.
I saw the faint glimmer of Weston's flashlight– but he was still pinned to the wall trying to get to me. "Crap, how did you even do this the first time?", Weston said in disbelief.
Three alarms sounded in my ears and splotches of red static appeared in my vision.
"Weston…I-I think, I'm gonna- pass out", I gasped.
"No! No! Stay awake, I'll try something else. Hang on", he replied, frantically.
I gritted my teeth and used every ounce of my failing strength to push against the mirror and lift one of my paws up long enough to turn the dial down to 40 degrees F- the lowest it could go.
I began to use MacGyver's breathing techniques that held me together through launch. If I could survive that, I'll survive this, I thought.
Just then, I heard a noise. Origenes had an exterior of graphite-epoxy, light aluminum, and insulation- the last of which had semi-failed at the point of crashing into the moon. But Weston had grabbed a solar-powered saw from his kit as protocol dictated and began to cut the telescope open from the outside.
Through the opening, sunlight began to pour in. Seeing that was enough to ignite something within me- and I reared back enough to bend the remaining supports until they snapped. The mirror landed with a thud to the immediate right of me- yet I still had enough left in my brain to jump back to avoid the possibly jagged edges of the falling beams.
By the time Weston had made a hole big enough to pull me out of, I was weakly leaning against the back-most "wall."
I felt a warm sensation on my face, figuring it was some sort of symptom of the exhaustion I felt.
It won't be long before you lose consciousness, I thought.
Weston pulled back the piece of sawed-off metal and said, "It's clear, come through!" I wasn't mentally aware enough to know whether my radio was working properly or not. I just fell out of the hole onto the dusty moon floor. Not an ounce of strength remained in my body.
"Rocky, look at me!", Weston shouted in a panic.
In the sunlight, I could tell that I was actually bleeding a generous amount from both of my nostrils. Our current position towards the sun left only the high-energy blue light to be reflected back to our eyes, so my blood was an incredibly dark red/maroon color.
I can't recall exactly what happened next.
I remembered Weston saying something to me, to which I couldn't even move my lips to respond. Then I felt the dusty moonscape against my legs as Weston dragged me back to our module.
It felt like a hazy dream. I tried to speak, but nothing but a weak groan escaped me. I remember hearing a hatch and Weston asking me something.
The next thing I knew, I was inside. It was warm, somehow. Something plastic pressed against my lips. Water. I opened my eyes. I was facing towards one of Chapel's windows, looking at the darkness. I felt like I was underwater- as if our module was trapped on the ocean floor.
My entire body ached, as if I had run a marathon in the middle of summer without stretching beforehand.
I opened my mouth to speak, "W-W….Weston….am I….", I stammered.
"Yes, you're still alive, Rocky", he replied.
Strangely, he didn't sound at all upset.
"Drink this."
I sipped from the water bottle he held up to my mouth.
"What happened", I managed.
"Well, I thought you died. I dragged you back here, you were close to overheating there, but thankfully you're not too heavy", he said.
"Thank God you'd just passed out."
"I'm sorry", I said.
"For what? It's not your fault the telescope tried to kill you", he replied.
"What did Houston say?", I asked, fearing the worst.
"I just told them that you were repairing something, it fell, and we decided to regroup- nothing too bad really. They didn't catch most of what we said, since the signal drops when you stay in the telescope for long enough. Now, Arlo on the other hand, is beyond worried- I could hear it in his voice", Weston chuckled, "he's such a mother-hen. He's gonna want an explanation from you- just so you know."
I was glad to hear that we'd finally re-established contact with him as he orbited the moon far above us-but I hated that I'd basically broken our promise the first chance I got. I didn't keep myself safe and then I put Weston in danger by making myself dead weight.
"W-wait, you didn't film any of that did you?", I asked, fearing that the pups, Aldine, and the rest of the world had just seen an 'astropup' almost die.
"No, I didn't film anything past the first approach", Weston said.
"Well, we have to go back-it can't just sit like that-the cold will get in- the slabs!", I began to stress.
"Nice to see you acting like yourself again, don't worry- I put the rectangle I'd cut out back into the hole- it's not perfect, but it will buy us time", Weston assured me.
"You did? Really?", I asked, surprised.
"I figured you'd never forgive me if I just left it like that", he said back.
I began again, "Can we at least check the-"
"Shhhh…later, there will be time. Right now, you need to rest", he said.
I hated how useless I felt. Once again, I needed to be saved.
Leaning against him, I could feel Weston's heartbeat. In an odd yet obvious way, this was the closest I'd ever felt to Weston.
His tone of voice held not even one shred of disapproval. He cared for me, like a brother would. I was too weak to question any of it.
He and I had somewhat of a heart-to-heart, as I lay staring at Chapel's ceiling.
He shared with me that he and Arlo were given very explicit instructions in a meeting on day 9. Dr. Dotson told them to keep a close eye on me. They knew I could fix the telescope; they just also knew it wouldn't be easy.
"I know you can- I definitely can't-this isn't my wheelhouse. And you can't do anything while you're wiped out like this", Weston said after I made a futile attempt to get up and walk around. It was a mistake on my part, standing only made me feel worse.
"Not yet, Rocky", he said, sitting me back down to my previous resting position. It's just your body telling you something's not right. Listen to it, and soon you'll bounce back in better form than when you started."
"You sound so sure", I said.
"Well, I've seen this before. It's like a- Well, I'm struggling to find a good metaphor here, um…Like a- well, uh…a- a phoenix- rising from the ashes."
"I don't feel like rising, I feel awful", I said weakly, as I began to lose control over my own breathing once more.
"I know, this is normal, trust me", he assured me.
I felt too bad to keep quiet, "I feel like the walls are moving-"
"Shhh…just close your eyes", Weston said.
Then, he did something that I'd never have been able to predict in a century of overthinking.
Weston stroked the fur on my head to calm me down. It worked. He continued running his paw through my hair until I stopped hyperventilating.
He continued to do so, even as he spoke, "Don't tell Arlo, I wasn't actually supposed to tell you about that meeting with Dotson. He's not being malicious. In fact, it took all of his willpower not to tell you, he felt like we were going behind your back."
I thought of Arlo taking me to see the Cygnus rocket early. It seemed like he wanted to say something then, but I appreciated his sentiment no matter what.
"We made an agreement, Arlo and I- to make sure we did everything in our power to help you see this through. Dotson had plenty of doubts about you, but even he couldn't argue with your skills- on such short notice too. I mean, you didn't know a soul aside from Kingsley and yet you excelled once you got your footing", he said, then added, "But I can't lie- had Lucille or Reece been chosen in your place, this wouldn't have been a factor."
I chuckled weakly. Even laughing hurt my lungs.
"I've always done better when I've been thrown into something without warning. Random sports and games- I crush it when I don't think about it. But the second I practice and try it again, with a method in mind. Well- we get outcomes like this."
"Yeah, I'm the same way", Weston said.
I felt like I'd once again befriended this stranger- albeit in less-than-ideal circumstances.
The slight inklings of fun I had experienced during training were real- but they were numbed at that point. All I felt was longing- I wanted to go back to Earth. Really and truly.
All that I could imagine was the job in front of me. I struggled to find those stories in my head. The happy memories with Ryder and the pups. Reverend Aldine's were even further buried. They were still there, but my brain couldn't grasp them.
I could, however, recall one of the one-off conversations Weston and I had while we were floating around the module on Halloween.
I had asked him if he was afraid.
He admitted that he wasn't afraid, but he definitely was uncomfortable.
We're going to the closest "something" in an expanse of near-nothing. As a kid, I hated playing those games where you fly through space and shoot at things. The far-distant skybox-I always felt eerie- uneasiness.
That's what he'd said.
It had only been a few short days since then, and he was cradling me like a newborn pup.
I was too exhausted to even be mad at myself.
I had lost my nerve while he had stayed strong. Weston proved he was the better astro then.
"I told you we should have eaten", he added out of nowhere.
Before I could think about it, I got defensive, "Hunger did not cause this!"
"Aw, that's cute. You still have enough 'spice' in you to argue with me. That's a good sign", he said with another genuine smile.
I hated that he was talking down to me, but I couldn't blame him at that point.
He held up a food bar next, "Here, can you eat this, or are you too tired?"
"I'm okay", I pouted.
"Need me to lift your head?", he asked.
"No, I can do it", I said, taking a bite.
It dawned on me. I saw in excruciating clarity what Ryder and the pups felt. Why Skye was so worried. Why Zuma didn't want to let me go. Why Ryder, the pups, the mayor, and Reverend Aldine made the trip to just be there for my sake. I was the one who wanted something substantial to do, so much so that I wept about it.
I felt a soul-crushing exhaustion. This is the steep slope I asked for, and I'm letting it beat me down.
I haven't failed, I thought, soon enough- I'm going back out there.
***End of Ch. 33***