Chapter 22• Tell us why…
*Still Day 12 of Origenes Crisis*
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I hated wearing suits. White-collar suits anyway.
It was tailor-made to fit a dog's unique form, just like my spacesuit.
That didn't stop it from being uncomfortable.
I could count on a single paw the number of events back in Adventure Bay that were deemed formal enough to warrant me showing up in a suit and tie.
Home was a far-away place at that moment.
The media team was brushing my fur and giving me advice as to how the flow of conversation would go.
After my reunion with Reverend Aldine, I could only think about the important things.
This press conference wasn't that important to me.
Still, Building Three was filled to the brim with people, all waiting for the final pre-flight conference.
"Shouldn't we be quarantining or something? Flight being so close and all?", I heard Weston ask.
"Wait, you want my opinion on that? A little late for that, don't you think?", Arlo replied.
"Maybe dogs don't need to quarantine", a media team member said.
The media team head walked into the "backstage" area and motioned for the three of us to ready ourselves to walk out.
I could hear Mr. Kingsley on stage, "ladies and gentlemen welcome to our auxiliary annex of the Manned Spacecraft Center. Our format for today consists of a 45-minute question- and answer portion, followed by a 30-minute presentation and then any lingering questions can be dealt with afterwards."
He went on talking about the mission and his optimism that we could satisfy all objectives with flying colors.
"Smaller bodies for tight spaces"-this, and "greater chances of success than human pilots"-that.
After every sentence he gave, there was a massive cascade of noise. People wanted answers, names, and intel that we weren't yet at liberty to give.
From what I had read, the names of all pups involved in backup and reserve crew duties were not to be spoken before launch-day unless they were moved to the prime crew.
I took a deep breath- I was ready.
"Now, I would like to introduce the inaugural manned Cygnus crew, Astronauts Arlo, Weston, and Rocky!
We walked out in our set order, Commander first, Weston, then me.
There wasn't an empty seat in the house. There had to be at least 500 people in the auditorium. They sat on the stairs and in the aisles. Cameras flashed, people applauded and murmured.
I even caught a few instances of "Awwww" and "So cute", as was to be expected.
The overall tone in the room, however was: Unsure.
There wasn't an overture of celebration, nor was there an overarching presence of disapproval.
You could tell everyone was anxious to know more, almost as if the launch were coming too soon for them.
We felt the same way, but Arlo was determined to make sure that didn't come across.
Rather than allow Kingsley to re-introduce us, Arlo began speaking into his microphone as soon as the three of us climbed into our chairs.
"Well, thank you all for coming tonight, I'm sure there's plenty of other things that many of you need to do before we kick off tomorrow. But we appreciate your faith in us during …...well…what we're calling a crisis", he started.
There was light clamoring, but the camera flashes were placed on hold until after the conference was over.
An early hand rose almost immediately.
Arlo pointed, "Yes, you! I think the microphone is…...somewhere out there."
The young reporter was united with THE microphone that would be used for press questions. (I think the media team was tired of dealing with a multitude of microphones and interference-so they just went for the least amount of technology).
One microphone for them, multiple for us.
"I have a question for Rocky, I have been dying to ask", he said.
Arlo and Weston turned to my direction, the leftmost seat of the three, a way of non-verbally giving me the stage.
"Well, I think we had a bit more to talk about before we got to questions, but if he doesn't mind", Mr. Kingsley said.
I quickly grabbed my microphone.
"Absolutely, fire away!", I said, sounding a bit too enthused at being the center of conversation.
"Hi, there. I'm Nicholas Colesmith, statistician for a local logistics company here in Florida, just outside of Jacksonville."
Okay, I thought to myself, he's probably going to ask me about the projections for success probability. Maybe he'll call my selection into question, compared to the others. I can only advocate for myself here; nobody is going to do it for me.
"So, with you being from the PAW Patrol, it's looking like you are going to be responsible for at least 58% of the viewership for tomorrow's launch on the allocated television networks. The official NASA livestream has been live since about three hours ago, for the hardcore space fans who want to stay up all night. But a survey we'd done shows that you're making up about one-third of the viewership there. How do you feel about that?"
I wasn't expecting that question at all. But, it was easy compared to the ones I'd been mentally preparing for.
It made sense that I'd be a major draw for people to watch the mission, or at least the launch. Even if I hadn't done much in the past few months, I was still "The green one" from the PAW patrol- quickly recognizable.
"Well, it's easy to filter out that aspect, performance anxiety aside. The PAW Patrol has a very local character. We aren't exactly seen as famous in Adventure Bay, just known as a part of the city that makes it unique", I said, satisfied that I didn't stutter. I then added, "It's super exciting to know that so many are committed to us, even now. So, I think it's just more motivation to ensure we do everything in our power to get things right- one step at a time."
My new friend Nicholas thanked me, apologized for asking a question so early, and sat down.
A few others smiled and wrote into their small notepads.
After that one question, it almost felt as though I wasn't there.
The conference was dominated by technical questions, meant for Arlo and Weston.
"How do you feel about potentially breaking the record for longest continuous extravehicular activity on the moon?"
"I took a quick look at the weather forecast- How late would be "too late" as far as calling the launch off?"
"As commander, what do you think of the projected probabilities of success?"
There were questions about the modules and their effectiveness in training, questions about potential issues with quadrupedal suits (suits made for those who walk on all-fours), questions about the newly implemented process we'd use for landing in the ocean.
I hate to admit it, but I started to zone out.
Before I knew it, our question period had gone by, and Kingsley started the presentation. It wasn't anything that I hadn't seen, just an illustrated step-by-step guide to mission directives and what precautions would be taken to ensure that no lives would be endangered (none that hadn't already been endangered, that is) for the sake of an unmanned satellite.
Almost every step had an asterisk next to it, which referenced a paragraph at the bottom of the slide reiterating that each step was entirely dependent on the success of the previous one.
By the time we came to the allotted time for additional questions, the audience exploded into a frantic shuffle to get to the microphone.
Arlo and Weston's mouths moved, the audience smiled and laughed.
The crowd members closest to the front looked at us with an almost ravenous excitement, yet the majority of the hard questions came from the back.
We could all feel the anticipation. It was like Christmas eve, minus the happy.
What I did learn was that Reverend Aldine was right, about a lot of things, but mostly that the people were already camping out to reserve the best places to watch without having to pay.
Also, I learned that the final scope for a "longest-term" mission was reduced to ten days on the moon, which made for 17-days off-Earth in total.
It was the very last question before Kingsley wrapped things up, however, that stayed stuck in my mind for about an hour afterwards.
"One last question, I promise!", said a frantic woman near the back.
"You know what, yes! One more, because we really need to get going. I was hoping for more participation from the back", Arlo said.
She grabbed the microphone and simply asked, "Flight director, If you find that the Origenes telescope cannot be saved, would you personally consider the risks involved to be worth it?"
Arlo was about to answer on his behalf, but Kingsley interjected.
"We'll talk about that at the post-mission press conference", he said smarmily.
To that, the crowd re-erupted- while we all waved goodbye and walked back to our hidden backstage haven.
The crowd sounded far less happy with that answer, but that was to be expected.
We all sat down as the team commended us for our patience and removed our wired mics and receivers.
I didn't feel as though I had done much.
Poor Arlo looked distraught.
He was always very expressive, but this was different.
The message was very clear, the collective did not share our enthusiasm.
Kingsley reassured us that everything was fine, but even he couldn't hide it.
Shortly before walking away, he said, "Get some rest you all. It's not goodbye until tomorrow, see you at breakfast!"
The day had been so full, I was still thinking of Reverend Aldine trying not to forget his words to me. But, I could see that the rampant and harsh questioning Weston and Arlo had been subjected to had made our current position even less ideal than what it already was.
"Well", Weston broke the silence, "We knew they would give us all we could handle."
"All that's left now is to prove them wrong, right?", I said.
Arlo nodded, "You're right. Can't be NASA's best commander if I let stuff like 'media day' get under my fur."
The three of us didn't know what to say or do after that.
Hug? Shake paws? Wish each other luck? Say we weren't ready?
We just turned and went our separate ways again.
That was that.
***End of Chapter 22***