Chapter 19• Flash sync
*Day 11 of Origenes Crisis*
Date: October 26th
/
The lack of sleep was definitely felt the next day.
But, if I were asked to draw the telescope from memory, I still could have done it.
Working on the real thing would be a leap for even the best astronauts.
Although many of our instructors had told us that we'd get the hang of working on the moon once we got there, the majority of Day 11 would be devoted to working against 'moon' gravity and the closest thing we could get to space's weightlessness.
If I had to move a heavy object in space, I would have relatively little issue doing so. Since there's no friction in space, there's nothing to push against. But the sensation is hard to get used to. If Weston and I were moving a crate, it could easily float away from us since there's nothing to stop it.
Enter the Precision Air-Bearing Floor- which was a large, smooth, metal floor with small jets to force air through the large objects we moved between one another. Basically, it was like a large air hockey table that helped simulate space activities with Arlo, Weston, and I.
It felt good being fully suited again, although they were the plain suits that we'd wear during our "dress rehearsal" the next day.
One thing to note about our suits- our tails were included in the design. Though it felt so odd to have your tail entirely encased in what I can only describe as a tube that got slightly bigger as it got to each unique wearer's tail-end. We were told to think of it as "an extra glove- just in the back." It was more of a deterrent to tail-wagging than it was an encouragement.
Right before Day 6's suit-up, I had a visit from a NASA barber, who proceeded to cut our hair down to "regulation length" so it could "fit" in our helmets with no issues. Weston's hair was short enough, while I had to say goodbye to my "whiskers"- the short lighter-grey tufts of hair on the sides of my face- as well as the grey tuft on the top of my head.
Arlo on the other hand, being a Jack Russel Terrier, looked like a completely different dog when he emerged from the barber chair. The medium-length hair around his nose was chopped off, making him look our age- if not even younger than Weston and me.
Weston snickered to himself when he first saw us, not that we looked all that different. Admittedly, my altered appearance was one of the many things the pups brought up during the previous night's call, so I had to accept that I even looked the part of a "changed pup."
After a time, the NASA team had added random obstacles to our training field, some looked like sections of rock-climbing walls while others looked like they belonged on a playground.
We simulated every possible instance that would include the physical movement of a large object. Some of us upside down, holding multiple things at once, even having one of us fall over and not move to simulate a medical emergency and seeing how we could move them.
It was fun, even if a bit repetitive.
Eventually they let us take a break.
Mr. Kingsley appeared around a corner and beckoned for us to come with him. Still in our semi-bulky suits, we did a semi-jog out of the huge room we were in.
However, no-one noticed. What supervisors we did have were huddled around their phones.
Something was going on, and I had a guess as to what.
Weston beat me to it.
"Kingsley didn't look super excited like he normally does, you think we're getting the axe?", Weston said.
"Jesus don't say it like that", Arlo said.
"I don't know, this seems kind of unceremonious for something that important. I wonder if the rocket's ready", I said.
"Now you're talking! I hope so and it had better be majestic", Arlo said.
"Just remember not to fall too in love with it, it was originally for humans, don't forget", Weston reminded us.
In a side room there was a television which displayed two people talking at a NASA desk.
"Gentlemen!", Mr. Kingsley said, "It's a beautiful day for a rollout, isn't it?"
His smile put us all at ease.
The graphic underneath the two people on-screen read: "NASA rolls out rocket for Origenes recovery mission" (Conveniently not using the name Cygnus).
"I've got to start keeping track of all the times you've been right, Rocky!", Arlo laughed.
What we were seeing was in real-time, alongside the rest of the world.
After due discussion by the pair at the desk on the rocket's progression and measurements, a small clock in the corner hit zero and the live feed of the assembly building overlayed the previous screen.
The massive, 6-million-pound crawler-transporter moved out of the building.
That vehicle by itself- being what I would call the largest tank/treaded vehicle on the planet- would be enough to satisfy any lover of machines like myself.
However, what it carried was the true masterpiece.
Our rocket, fully stacked, stood at 210 feet.
The sun hit its bright, white paint in blinding brilliance.
It was trimmed in black, sleek, and streamlined- featuring both NASA logos in their respective glories.
What caught everyone's attention, however, was the external tank.
Usually associated with the space shuttle, the external tank's job would be to supply liquid hydrogen fuel and liquid oxygen oxidizer under pressure to the engines during lift-off and ascent.
For the first few space shuttles, the tanks were painted white to make it uniform, but it added thousands of pounds to the vehicle- unnecessary weight to waste on aesthetics.
This led to a yellowish color being used that weighed less, which became the iconic burnt orange when exposed to sunlight.
Our tank, however, was painted in a brilliant design that was almost identical to a World War II-era fighter plane.
It was metallic grey with a massive shark face aimed towards the sky with slanted red eyes and jagged white teeth.
We weren't really listening to the commentary, but small blurbs on-screen told us things we needed to know.
One read:
"The famous 'shark mouth' insignia dates back to the 1940s during World War 2. The 1st American Volunteer Group known as the Flying Tigers painted the now iconic shark mouth on the noses of their Curtiss P-40 Warhawks."
"Pretty cool, right? I wasn't expecting it at all, but now we have the technology to make paint that doesn't impact the weight- any color is on the table", said Mr. Kingsley.
"I don't mind it, but I don't know about its positioning", Weston protested after a while, "It's on the skyward facing cone of the tank- it would make more sense to be at the bottom to look like flames shooting out of the mouth rather than sitting there on top."
"Oh, come on now, it looks better the way it is. Plane art never faced the exhaust- always forward. It would ruin the decoration", Mr. Kingsley argued.
I loved it. I was glad the design department had some fun, especially on such short notice.
The tank was attached to the bottom side of the main rocket and stood at about 230ft., just taller than the rocket itself, and would disconnect after the first stage broke away from the rocket (at the earliest).
Another blurb told us that the external tank would be the largest ever used in spaceflight, towering over the 184.2 feet of the space shuttle's version.
Arlo hadn't said anything up to that point, he just sat in awe, closest to the screen.
His tail was wagging, which was something I hadn't seen any of the other astros do since I'd come.
It was so odd seeing the craft for real, knowing that I would be onboard.
It was surreal, as the moving platform made its way up the long path towards its destination. The size of the craft was put into perspective by birds flying past and cars scuttling on nearby roads. Purely dizzying.
There were roads that led to the launchpads as well, inaccessible to regular traffic.
These roads buzzed with activity.
Eventually, the moving platform reached a fork in the paths. The right track led to pad LC-39A. The vehicle's back end raised up, keeping the rocket and the platform level through the slight incline.
Drones followed the slow-moving vehicle and provided numerous shots from above.
"It's going to take a while for it to get to the pad, but I just wanted you all to see what was going on", Mr. Kingsley said.
"Thanks for telling us, really", I said.
"Yeah, this was nice. It's gonna be hard to shift my mind back to object-handling practice, though", Weston said.
"You fellas can go ahead, there's no way I'm missing this for 'pass the potato' practice", Arlo said without taking his eyes away from the screen.
"But wait, isn't that kind of important to practice though?", I asked.
"I know how to handle things in space, that's more for you two- I shouldn't even have to leave the command module", Arlo replied.
"What happened to not getting in trouble?", Weston said and then looked to our director.
"Oh, I don't care whether you go back or not", Kingsley said.
Arlo scooted back to his spot in front of the television.
"Okay then", Weston grumbled.
Just then, Sophie came to the door.
"Rocky, do you have a minute?", She asked.
"Sophie, it's been forever since I've seen you!", I said.
"Oh yes, well I've been doing some things behind the scenes. A lot of things, and I have something to show you!", She said excitedly.
"Okay, Weston I'll be back", I said,
"Take your time, I guess. Not like it's our second to last day or anything", he said dryly.
He was right, but I had an idea of what Sophie wanted to show me- it was something that I'd asked her about shortly after my second underwater training.
She took me to the far end of building four, where the precision floor was, and opened a shallow closet.
Behind the closet door was a glass door that could only be opened by someone with special clearance.
However, anyone could see through.
Behind the glass sat my final spacesuit, not to be handled before launch day.
If I wasn't already emotional enough, this took it far beyond.
My suits previously thin green bars that spanned my suit were now a few inches thick. They spanned the length of the suit's arms down to where my paws would go as well as down my back. My oxygen pack also had a horizontal green band.
NASA had outdone themselves with the redesign; it was perfect.
"Okay, you got to see it. Now let's go before someone yells at me", Sophie said.
I nodded and turned back.
"Thank you, Sophie", I said as we walked back, "I really needed to see that."
"Well that much I gathered, and you don't have to thank me", she said.
"You saw the rocket, right? What do you think of it?", I asked.
"It's a gorgeous machine for sure, but it just makes me sad", she said.
"Oh, well you don't have to be", I said, "It's emergency systems are the most sophisticated I've ever seen, and I've almost memorized the blueprints."
"No, I'm not sad about you. You'll be fine- you'd better be anyway. I just hate that the rocket has to break apart and get all burned up. It's the prettiest it's going to look right now, and I want to enjoy it", she said.
I giggled, though I wasn't sure what to say to make her feel better.
"Well…we'll always have pictures, videos too", I said.
"I suppose you're right", she said with a huff.
Once we got back to the training room, there were temporary backdrops set up all over the floor.
The air jets, which provided the feeling of low gravity, had been turned off.
Members of the media team flagged me down and Sophie pushed me towards them.
I was instructed to change from one suit to another.
The second suits they gave were replicas, ones that looked similar enough that no one could really tell that they weren't real but were light and easier to move in than the real suits.
One photographer remarked, "People are going to want to see you in suits now." But it wasn't how we thought it would be.
The director of photography, a lady named Erena, told us that we'd be "getting 'these' out of the way first."
They gave us coats, almost like a hybrid between a cloak and a poncho, to put over our actual spacesuits.
The outer coats weren't for protection against the elements though- they each sported a different brand logo on the outside.
We were instructed that we'd be stepping in front of a white backdrop, first individually, then all together.
Erena described these first photos as, "paying back some favors."
My coat featured some company that harvested rubber for tires, oddly enough.
Arlo's had some logistics company none of us had heard of, and Weston's featured a brand of Chocolate that was popular overseas.
"Well, this is…an interesting marketing strategy", Arlo said with a laugh, as the three of us stood to the side.
"I mean, do we have to do this Erena? I personally have been through too much training to be remembered as the 'Chocolate Astronaut', okay?", Weston groaned.
Erena assured us that these shots would not be featured on NASA's website, or anything related to Public Relations for the mission.
A few photographers couldn't help themselves and started snapping 'candids' of Weston.
Weston began covering the brand logo with his paw.
"Uh-uh, no. This brand isn't fair trade. They get no love from us here at NASA", he said.
Admittedly, we looked kind of silly- especially indoors. Still, suited pictures felt great.
Before long, we were permitted to free ourselves of our branded shackles and began the real photography session.
From backdrop to backdrop we were ushered and smiled for so long our faces ached (again).
But no one could say that we weren't legitimate astronauts.
I couldn't help but wonder how Neil Armstrong or Chris Hadfield felt when they took their pictures.
We took group photos with the same map of the moon we'd seen at our first press conference.
We also posed with small-scale models of the Lunar and Command modules. Whatever the legal situation NASA was in, it didn't mean we couldn't do that much.
Still, the process reminded me of a specific time back in Adventure Bay.
/
Though many of my PAW Patrol reminiscences were happy, this one wasn't.
Ryder had told us that a team of photographers from Time magazine had been commissioned to take photos of each of the six team members in action.
The PAW Patrol was enjoying some regional fame at the time; this had come about a month after the Adventure Bay Day rescue- Cali and Chickaletta ended up stuck in a floating bathtub after Alex added too many balloons to what was supposed to be a parade float. We managed to get them down with minimal disruption to the festivities.
By "We" I mean Marshall, Chase, and eventually Skye, who ended up helping to rescue one of the rescuers- in this instance, Marshall.
These pictures would be high quality, high definition. I wanted mine to be as intense as possible to match the others.
You know, something cool that would hold up years after it was taken.
Photographers followed us around for days on-rescue. But after a week and a half, they got their shots…...
This wasn't a slow week, by any means. Any occurrence that could have given the other pups a beautiful action-shot just so happened to land during that week in a half.
Each shot was more breathtaking than the last.
Zuma's photo depicted him dangling off of the edge of a boat, ragged rope clamped in his teeth.
A ship had raised its anchor too close to another and blasted a nine-foot gash in the side of the other ship's hull.
It was far off from the Bay, which contributed to the most amazing aspect of the picture.
The perspective came from the deck of the damaged boat. After accompanying Zuma to the accident, the photographer climbed on-board to shoot, risking her own life in the process.
Zuma was about six feet over the water's surface, where a group of sharks had pooled in a mad frenzy.
From the angle, it looked as though any one of them could have jumped up and grabbed him, yet Zuma was collected and composed.
Successful rescue, Outstanding photograph.
Rubble's photo was taken on another spontaneous rescue.
While Skye was away on a separate mission at Farmer Yumi's farm, a construction team was painting the lighthouse.
They were supposed to be done by the time Rubble had been sent to reinforce the concrete at the base when a member decided to reascend the scaffolding to re-paint an area.
Sure enough, he slipped, and the scaffolding came crashing down, leaving him dangling there with no help.
Thankfully, Rubble was on-hand and re-assembled the scaffolding as he ascended on his own- Marshall's ladder also being unavailable.
Rubble got to the painter as the last of his grip strength gave out.
While he's the youngest team member, he is by no means the weakest- nor the slowest at doing his job.
He held a full-grown, 240-pound man by his teeth, hanging up two-hundred feet in the air.
That's our Rubble!
It had been a foggy day, and the light from the top of the spire pierced through the fog, so the photographer opted for a long exposure shot that created a ring of light above Rubble's head.
Successful rescue, Outstanding photograph.
Skye's photo was taken on the return from a rescue, as Skye's copter broke a record for largest weight lifted from the ground.
A family had gotten lost camping in the desert, and Skye was the first to find them.
The family consisted of nine people, Mom, Dad, Aunt, Uncle, and five kids. But Skye had thought ahead and brought a gondola to fit them all.
They piled in and Skye flew slow and steady to ensure it didn't sway too much.
The photographer was waiting at the landing zone alongside Marshall, with EMT gear and water for the family.
The photo captured the moment where Skye had set the gondola down and detached it before rushing off to answer yet another call.
As she flew off, the nine fervently waved goodbye, the only gratitude they could show on short notice.
Successful rescue, Outstanding photograph.
Marshall's picture was taken in the heat of the moment, quite literally.
Ryder had just finished Marshall's heavy-duty fire gear, and it was a good thing too.
A 4,500 square foot house caught fire during our week and a half with the photographers.
Luckily, the family was out of town, but the fire started to spread to trees and powerlines.
But this was Marshall we were talking about.
You wouldn't have been able to tell who was inside the suit. The helmet covered his face with its huge goggles and an oxygen filter so he could breathe in smoky areas longer.
Although it was his signature shade of fire-red, it was also yellow with two florescent rings around each of his legs so he could be seen at night.
Alone, it took about two hours to stop the fire completely, and Marshall had exhausted his entire arsenal of extinguishers.
His truck was hooked up to a water tanker, and it sprayed nonstop for as long as it took.
There was an artistry to how Marshall went about putting out fires. This one was no different, as he worked from the outside in, putting out trees while he methodically got closer and closer to the house.
Despite his lanky frame, he was insanely strong. And he had a great sense of knowing just when a structure was beyond saving.
The rest of the PAW Patrol couldn't even get close while the fire was burning, but Marshall's suit made it so he could literally walk through the front door past the flames.
From there, he used his newly fitted armored gear that included a half-cannon/half-slingshot of sorts. Its purpose was to ensure Marshall could vent a roof without needing to climb a ladder or use his paws.
(Though they failed to mention it in the article, that addition was my idea)
One bark and the gear did its job, sending a 20-pound axe head through the roof from the bottom floor. From there, the heat was free to escape the building.
Our one-of-a-kind Dalmatian nonchalantly walked out the same door he'd walked in, his suit black as night and matching the charred environment that surrounded us.
Embers lay on the ground, and the smoke was still smothering.
The photo caught the exact moment he'd become visible to us again- carrying a fish tank on his back.
It's not too wild to assume that a tank of fish isn't worth risking your life over, but not to Marshall.
To him, those fish needed rescuing just like people did.
I still remember the grin on his face when he finally took his helmet off- as though the tank were made of solid gold.
Marshall's efforts meant more than we knew, since the family's small children were elated to discover that they didn't lose everything in the fire.
I'm sure if the fish could talk, they would have thanked him for his efforts too.
Still a successful rescue and an outstanding photograph- especially for a nighttime operation.
Chase's photo, however, was the buzz of the town for weeks.
It was something we'd seen before, but it was no less scary.
However, our fearless lead pup was up to the task, we knew.
A bank robber had stolen about 100,000 dollars and had fled the scene as Chase and Ryder had arrived.
The "gun" he used was nothing more than an AC adapter for a computer charger.
However, when held behind the sleeve of his jacket, any teller could be convinced it was real.
Chase, however, would have charged in regardless of whether the robber had a charger, a knife, or a live grenade.
The streets were busy that day, and many watched as the robber strayed into the street to avoid Chase's pursuit.
Chase hopped out of his car and followed on paw.
The robber grabbed a bike off of the street, broke the lock, and started to pedal.
However, the moment's hesitation of switching gears was all Chase needed.
He timed a jump perfectly and tackled the robber off of the bike- placing him under arrest.
The good people of Adventure Bay, rather than steal the money now blowing in the wind, erupted in cheers.
The streets rang out in applause for Chase, who, humbly nodded and waved as if it were only another box to check off at the end of the day.
And on the street, was one of our Photographer friends on break, who just so happened to get the perfect shot of Chase standing over the unsuccessful thief as the crowd applauded its hero.
Successful rescue, Outstanding photograph.
As anyone could guess, mine was nothing special.
The Photographer came up to me as I was underneath Ryder's ATV- fixing it as I often do.
My head next to my toolbox and my fur covered in oil smudges and sweat from an earlier repair job, he opted to take a 'candid.'
And that's what he did.
The last member of the photographer crew.
The last day of his stay with us.
When the article on us came out, the collage of the six pictures filled an entire page in the magazine.
All six still hang on the walls of city hall.
And there I was, the fixer pup.
Immortalized as such, doing a job I had done a dozen times before.
Not a rescue; Nothing special about the picture.
Nothing special about me.
/
A camera flash brought me back to the task at hand.
Erena had taken hundreds, yet that last one left her smiling.
Arlo stood to the far-left, Weston in the middle, and me at the right end.
It wasn't any kind of special formation, but it did show us in descending order as far as rank went.
"I think that was the one you guys, that's the one they're going to put in the History books!", she beamed.
***End of Chapter 19***
Author's Note : Hello Dear readers, it has been a while!
I know that was an interesting transition to the past, but I decided that Rocky telling the story might have been better than a proper flashback.
I promise, the next few chapters are very important- as you know (All of my chapters are important-but these especially so).
Thanks for reading as always and stay safe out there!
-HM