Chapter 25• Pick a wall.
*Still Launch Day {Day 13 of Origenes Crisis}*
/
Just Imagine- we went through all of this fuss just for the mission to be abandoned 3 hours before T-minus- 0.
Imagine how awful NASA would look if they couldn't even master the "dog rocket."
Actually, I didn't want to imagine.
I couldn't help but recall the various takes I'd heard in passing among the staff, the collective levels of anticipation for the spacecraft's debut flight performance.
Soot had said it best, before our first underwater simulation together. "I can't wait to see it. Oh man! Just the fact that we'll be forever tied to a machine like that- even if I don't get to fly in it this time. I hope that thing really does tear the sky in half", he'd marveled.
MacGyver had also remarked after admitting that he'd waited until the day before our final flight exercises to actually crack open the schematics, "Yeah…the pictures are nice, sure. But actually seeing it, sitting on the launchpad… There's no doubt in my mind- NASA's dead serious about this one! Who cares if the model was originally made for human astronauts? You haven't heard about this- y'know, since you're not allowed to leave the NASA premises, but everywhere I've gone I've heard people talking about the launch. It's almost like they've forgotten the broken telescope on the moon in the hype. Don't be surprised if people show up with Geiger counters on launch-day; people are half-expecting that thing to stop time when it lights. NASA's back to being a 'mad scientist' club, and I couldn't be any happier", he'd said to me, with much pride in his voice.
I'd also overheard Maddox while he was on the phone, thankfully- as I doubt he would have shared his candid thoughts with us upfront. "I've always worked with a certain principle in mind. 'Your finished product should be so secure that you could put your grandmother in it without a second thought.' We've put our hearts and souls into this. It's a new rocket that's actually going somewhere with lives on board- and it's going soon! They're counting on us. I can say with 100% certainty, I wouldn't get on that rocket, let alone have my grandmother anywhere near it. It's the most technologically sophisticated craft I've ever seen. I never could've imagined I'd be a part of something like this…. But if something goes wrong- it will be quick and spectacularly violent. I feel sick to my stomach putting any living being in that position- even dogs", he lamented.
In all honesty, not even Maddox's pessimistic words changed how I felt about the rocket.
My heart skipped a beat every time I imagined Cygnus in flight.
My mind remained a fierce whirlwind; so much so that I couldn't even string together any possible solutions for the others.
At that point, the three of us were given chairs to sit in, as technicians scurried in and out of the white room.
We exchanged pleasantries with the flight surgeon.
"I wouldn't worry about it, there's always a hiccup during these things", she said.
"How big of a 'hiccup' are we talking about?", Arlo asked.
"Oh, I couldn't tell you. They won't even let me in there until you all are in the seats", she replied, "It's all about knowing your role."
I smiled.
I decided to keep things light given the circumstances, "Are you running biometrics right now?"
"Yes I am, I've been monitoring you all since we arrived at the pad", she said.
"If you don't mind me asking, who has the quickest heartbeat out of us three?", I asked.
She pulled up a tablet and scrolled for a bit.
"It's you, actually", she said as she pointed to Weston.
Weston shrugged, "I think that's kind of common for Shiba Inu's anyway."
Arlo, who I was hoping would glean some kind of enjoyment, didn't say anything.
He just sat there silently, as if a dark cloud hung over his face.
I should have expected as much. Helplessness is never a pleasant feeling.
Which is why I was elated to hear the tech-team's good news.
"Alright, crisis averted. Rocky's going in first!", said technician number 6.
Arlo sprang back up, "Alright! That's what I'm talking about!"
At this "Good news", I felt a nervousness that was completely foreign to me.
I was supposed to be happy-our prayers had been answered, yet I'd be the first to step through a potentially compromised seal.
How much do you trust the technicians that 'fixed' the hatch, Rocky?, my villainous thoughts asked me.
Weston and Arlo happily assumed the boarding order.
Our technician #3 in the white room handed me a Permanent Marker to continue a new NASA tradition of signing the white room.
I was invited to, "Pick a wall."
I picked the wall across from the hatch because I liked the idea that I might still be able to see our names through the small side window until they retracted the crew access arm.
I signed "Rocky" on the pristine, white wall next to the NASA insignia and handed the marker to Weston. He followed, as did Arlo.
All of us had dramatically different styles of writing.
My signature was simple and wide, while Weston's was narrow and condensed to the point where his letters almost touched each other.
Arlo's, on the other hand, was completely unique.
Since he only had four letters, he signed what looked almost like a character from another language. The four letters blended into one another in one curvy line.
Our NASA photographer wasted no time in taking a photo once Arlo had given the marker to someone.
My name was on the wall of the NASA white room; and there it would stay for missions upon missions in the future- regardless of our successes or failures.
Someday it might even be in a museum, I thought.
It was a beautiful sight, but I knew that the longer I sat and admired, the longer I was holding things up.
Our technician team removed the FOD covers and helped me into the crew cabin.
The interior was roomy, even more so than the simulator.
It was streamlined and simplistic, yet the main control console was a scattering of small buttons and switches below four larger touch screens.
I would be in the seat behind the others, so I could see the console between Arlo and Weston's seats, but I wouldn't be able to reach it.
The screen displays would give Arlo and Weston Insight to all of the systems onboard Cygnus.
Our flight plan called for manual piloting 8 times throughout the mission. All such instances involved Arlo at the helm, with a few involving both he and Weston to move their respective modules once the spacecraft separated.
However, launch control had the capability to control and/or activate autonomous flight.
My helmet, which was filled with the least chatter of the three, came back to life so suddenly that I jumped in my seat.
"Now copy- we are now through momentary hold- crew ingress is underway at 2 hours- 42 minutes- seven seconds and counting" *Beep*
"Are you okay?", my technician asked with concern.
I nodded.
I settled into my seat and the technicians helped me buckle in.
After they attached the umbilical, I immediately felt airflow throughout the suit and helmet as I moved in my seat.
The suit could pump in Nitrox, the same mixture that Zuma uses for enriched air scuba diving, in case of cabin depressurization.
Surprisingly, the hatch troubles only hit us with a 15-minute delay.
Arlo then entered and took the commander's spot in the leftmost seat in front of me and then Weston took his place in the rightmost seat.
Arlo and Weston's seats had talk buttons built-in, so they didn't even have to mess with their helmets.
"This is Cygnus launch control, standby for CDR comm-check- over"
*Beep*
"Copy that, hear you loud and clear!", Arlo proudly replied.
"Copy, clear on our end. Standby Cygnus to Ground Station comm-check"
*Beep*
"Ground station, hear you loud and clear", Arlo said.
*Beep*
I could hear the beeps in Arlo's helmet as he continued to go back and forth with the Capcom response officer.
We were then told that a command and telemetry check of the radio frequencies on Cygnus was underway, as they ran through the tracking data and checked the relay satellite network.
"Comm-check, MS-1-Rocky this is Capcom, how are you picking me up?"
*Beep*
The voice in my helmet sounded so young, like an intern not much older than Ryder.
"You sound just fine, thanks Capcom", I said.
"I have you the same, thank you"
*Beep*
Then, they sent a message to all three of us simultaneously, via the shared channel.
"Alright, this concludes launch configuration comm-checks. From all of us on the green team, we're all thrilled to help you three on your way to the moon. Everything's looking good on our end as of now. Report back when ready for section 2- seat rotation"
It was almost as if I could feel the others smiling.
After we were all fastened in and were subjected to a rather lengthy leak-check, we received our final briefing from the tech team and Mr. Kingsley.
They told us that the propellant load would start once the launch tech crew left us and hopped back on the console in the firing room.
It was time to say goodbye.
Dr. Kingsley said proudly, "Well, that's about it, boys! I'll always wish we'd had a bit more time together, but we got what we got!"
He reached in and shook each one of our paws, starting with me.
"Thanks Kingsley, couldn't have put together a crew like this without you!", Arlo said.
"You're a tough and competent squad now, take care of each other. Next time I see you, we'll all have to go out and celebrate!", Kingsley said.
Arlo nodded and said, "Alright Green Team, we're go for seat rotation!"
"Copy" *Beep*, came the reply.
The backs of our seats slowly turned until they were set to launch configuration; parallel to the ground and locked in that position to reduce G-forces upon liftoff.
Then, I felt the technician team close the hatch.
I was facing the sky itself, like the slingshot ride at an amusement park.
Only here, you couldn't just leave if your nervousness got the best of you.
Once again, I began to shake.
I could only take a deep breath to maintain some control.
At T-2 hours we heard Dr. Dotson's voice, "Alright crew. We're sitting here at T-minus two hours and all systems are go. Immediate range is green on the support side. Launchpad is clear, of course aside from the technician crew that will make their exit here shortly."
The air and sea monitoring had also come back clear. Every now and then, we'd hear a helicopter fly past us.
The familiar sea breeze was pushing out to sea, instead of inland, so downrange conditions still appeared to be the most pressing issue. The Green Team was concerned with the thick clouds and possibility of lightning far down our flightpath, as well as wave heights for a potential splashdown if we needed to abort flight.
It was probably for the best that I couldn't see the countdown clock.
Why was it that when you aren't at all prepared for something in the future, time moves in a way that puts it on your doorstep before you know it?
I'd used the metaphor before, but I actually felt like the minutes were literally melting off the clock.
It was just waiting….the awful, excruciating waiting.
And the nerves.
Arlo was in non-stop motion, checking systems on the screen and tracing the outline of the console to keep focused, so watching him was the only thing keeping me together.
He kept me in the loop on the time. Although his seat prevented him from looking over his shoulder, I could tell the difference between him turning to Weston and him turning to address me.
"1 hour, forty-five minutes"
It would take them some time to lock the hatch, but once they did, they'd leave us.
The minutes kept melting.
The kits we'd bring out on the moon included a watch-but they were stashed away in their own storage compartments.
I had a secret talent I had cultivated during my time with the PAW Patrol.
I had a sense of what time the schedule had marked as "hatch closing", which was around T-1:37:06, factoring in the delay.
While we were, of course, unable to see them after they closed the hatch, our fearless technician team descended the two flights of stairs to the crew access tower's zipline hub.
Originally meant to be used for emergencies, the ziplines would ferry the technician team down back to ground level along with their equipment, one by one, until the very last one took the ride down.
Thus, we were left to our own devices, physically anyway.
The call eventually came, "Copy, this is Cygnus Launch control. We can confirm launch team has exited the BDA (Blast danger area). Tower is now marked as clear- Crew arm retract is now in-work, set for T minus 45 minutes."
Arlo copied.
Sure enough 7 mins later, "That's an hour and a half till launch", Arlo said.
This re-affirmed that I still had a good sense of telling time without seeing a clock.
Good job, Rocky- you haven't missed a step, I hyped myself up in my head in an effort to keep calm.
It didn't work.
"Copy, this is Cygnus launch control. Everything is looking good thus far at T-minus 1 hour and thirty minutes. Now standby for switch to mission control, Houston."
All three of us were then introduced to the voice of Dr. Sherry Everette II from the Johnson Space Center in Houston.
It really was like a dream.
"Alright Cygnus, all systems looking nominal here at mission control. It looks as though there are no issues in that "In-work" category, just like we like to see. Still, just really keeping an eye on the weather", she said.
Arlo copied.
…
"Were at just over an hour, hang in there!"
By that time, the rocket started doing remote propulsion checkouts, opening and closing valves on its own based on signals from launch control. It would last about 10 minutes, but it would be the last "milestone" before propellant started being loaded onto Cygnus.
Although valves were moving around, I couldn't feel anything happening below me.
At T-minus 1 hour we received the call, "This is Cygnus launch control. We are go-for section 6, when you are ready report 'go' for launch"
Arlo Weston and I engaged in a quick check of our belts and harnesses. All-good.
"Copy! Crew is at 6.4, complete- Rocky, Weston, and I are ready, Go for launch!", Arlo said.
"Copy, weather is "Go" at this time- Standby for confirmation from ground team-"
"Cygnus copies", Arlo replied.
(Author's note: As we get into the complexities of different jobs, I'll have little descriptions of what the officers/technicians are responsible for in [brackets]. These descriptions aren't actually being said, it's just for extra info!)
All positions proceeded to share their status as "Go" or "No Go."
Although it was easier to use a poll and have everyone press a button to confirm everyone's readiness, somebody somewhere decided to bring back the old-school callouts.
"Alright this is Cygnus launch control. We are now awaiting all positions for status-check on launch readiness….
"NETWORK" [Network-supervised ground station communications]
"Go!"
"TBC" [Prime Tank/Booster Test Conductor officer]
"Go."
"PTC" – [Payload Test Conductor]
"Go!"
"LPS" – [Launch Processing System Test Conductors]
"Go!"
"TELMU" – [Telemetry, Electrical, and EVA Mobility Unit (lunar spacesuit) Officer]
"Go-"
"Houston!" [Dr. Sherry Everette II, Flight Director at Mission Control Center in Houston, TX]
"Go."
"INCO" [Integrated Communications Officer]
"Go."
"FAO" [Flight Activities Officer]
"Go!"
"Safety Console" [Safety Console Coordinator]
"Go-"
"CDR" [Mission Commander- Arlo]
"Go!", Arlo replied happily.
"Roger- BOOSTER? [Booster Systems Engineer for pre-launch and ascent]
"Go."
"RETRO" [Retrofire Officer, responsible for abort procedures and Trans-Earth Injection and retrofire burns]
"Go-"
"FIDO" [Flight Dynamics Officer, responsible for the flight path of the space vehicle]
"Go!"
"GUIDANCE" [Guidance Officer, monitored onboard navigational systems and onboard guidance computer software]
"Go-"
"CONTROL" [Flight Controller]
"Go."
"CAPCOM" [Capsule Communicator]
"Go."
"GNC" [Guidance, Navigation, and Control Systems Engineer, responsible for the reaction control system, and CSM main engine]
"Go!"
"EECOM" [Electrical, Environmental, and Consumables Management- monitoring cryogenic levels, and cabin cooling/pressure systems; electrical distribution systems]
"Go-"
"SURGEON" [Flight Surgeon]
"Go!"
"Cygnus launch control, that's all stations go for launch at T-minus 1 hour!"
At that, I'm sure watch parties all over the world erupted in cheer. Or at least, all over the country.
The intense excitement and anticipation of the weather's cooperation was enough to make me shake again.
But knowing the vast number of teams-upon-teams were actively pouring their talents into a successful launch made me beyond proud. Somehow, I trusted them.
We once again fell into another slump of quiet waiting interrupted by an errant beep here and there- at least for me.
That is, until Arlo broke the silence over the radio.
"Okay, I think we're lacking enough stimulation that we can break some protocols, huh? How many people we got watching us now?", he asked.
There was a moment of silence that was a little longer than usual before Dr. Dotson asked, "You want me to tell you how many people are watching?"
"Affirmative, only if you can", Arlo said. I could practically hear the smile on his face.
Dr. Dotson answered, "Total launch viewership…So….We're looking across three television channels broadcasting the launch now. You're looking at about 108 million worldwide…. that's just shy of the Superbowl."
Arlo laughed, "Wow! Thanks for tuning in folks!"
"So, there's about 100,000 here in person, at least that's what they're telling me. Along the highways and beaches there's probably more- I'm now being told that the official NASA livestream's got around…3 million now", Dr. Dotson answered.
Although the announcement came late, there were still more people than I ever could have expected.
'Well, people like watching dogs do things", Weston said to us both, as if he weren't that surprised.
"You've also got….a good luck message written in the sand down there. The people wrote 'Good luck Cygnus Crew' in the sand just up the coast sometime today. They're wishing you well!", Dr. Dotson added.
"Wow, we appreciate it", Arlo replied.
At that moment I was glad I wasn't the mission commander, as I would have never thought about asking that.
What Arlo did actually made me feel a bit calmer, for the moment.
At about T-minus 45 minutes we heard another check-in from the Green Team.
"We're about to close doors for propellant load- any last-minute alterations- complete those now"
He was speaking to those on the launch team, meaning that Kingsley and his technician group had returned and assumed their duties in the firing room.
"Copy, retracting crew arm on time"
"Copy, arming crew access retract at T-45 minutes"
The bridge that connected us to the tower disconnected itself from the rocket and swung back until it was 90 degrees from its original position.
At that point, we heard Kingsley's voice over the radio for the first time as he joined the Green Team in the firing room.
He issued what sounded as much as a dismal warning to both us and his team as it did a list of necessary protocols.
"Alright, we're here at T-minus 45 and counting. Reminder on hold and launch escape protocol! Please be sure to double-check non-urgent 'no-go' conditions. For urgent issues affecting the safety of the operation, operators shall call "hold-hold-hold" on the countdown net. Launch control will immediately abort the launch and go to the abort auto sequence."
He paused, "Operators should also advise the launch director whether a structural breakup or fire is imminent or occurring for Cygnus' manual escape flight rules. Another reminder on fire alarm instructions, in the event of a fire alarm the key operators previously briefed will remain at their post while the alarm is evaluated, any event that personal safety is threatened, evacuate to the south facing emergency exit which leads directly outside. Weather is green across the board, we are go for launch!"
Once he stopped, there was silence, and it was as if I truly re-evaluated how dangerous the machine that grumbled and creaked beneath us actually was.
Then we heard, "Cygnus you are go at Section 7- please lock your visors and arm launch escape."
*Beep*
"Copy that, Visor's coming closed!", Arlo said.
The three of us slid our visors closed.
The ground team confirmed that the Launch escape system was armed at T-41 minutes.
"Copy, visors are closed at this point. Cygnus operations nominal, let's hit it!", Arlo said confidently.
Separating the crew compartment from the rest of the rocket in the event of an abort would be in Arlo's manual control all the way from the ground to orbit. Still, the launch escape system was in no way a comfort to anyone on board.
We were there to do a job.
The propellant load started at T-minus 35 minutes on the dot.
Once the first drop of fuel entered the rocket, we'd be stuck in our instantaneous launch window.
We had little time to work with, already. So, anything catastrophic would undoubtedly ruin any possibility of mission success.
From the high-flow first stage propellant engines that would get us off of the ground, to the smaller engines that would help get us to the moon and back, this fuel-loading process was dreadful to me but was vital nonetheless.
Unlike the fuel we'd use in space, the "Earth-fuel" needed for launch purposes involved our standard rocket fuel and oxidizer combining with a third ignition source. For Cygnus, we used a fluid called T-TEP that ignites in the presence of oxygen, giving off a green colored flame.
From previous rocket launches I'd seen using it, it was hard to see its shade during the first stage ignition due to the water that sprayed onto the pad to suppress the noise, yet the green flare was much more pronounced when the second stage engine ignited following stage-1 separation.
At first, I couldn't really feel any difference, the first stage tanks began to fill with fuel and liquid oxygen- 10%, 20%, 30%. Then the second stage engines also began to receive fuel in smaller quantities.
Helium was also being loaded into the pressure vessels of each stage, and the liquid oxygen loading would continue all the way down to the countdown's very last minutes.
Arlo monitored the systems very closely, his nose literal inches from the screen at times.
About six minutes in, however, things changed. A very low grumble began to reverberate throughout the crew compartment, like a car sitting in park for a while.
And then, by what felt like T-minus 29 minutes, the vibrations began to be interrupted by what sounded like short squeaks of air far below us.
Then we heard a new voice over the radio, "Hey prime crew! I hope you don't mind me hopping on here to wish you all good luck!"
I smiled.
Arlo laughed, "Soot, you're actually the first person I thought about this morning when I woke up. I knew I probably wouldn't see you before we got here- consider us pleasantly surprised."
I was, definitely.
It wasn't uncommon for astronauts to be appointed to firing-room duties, though I thought it strange since Soot was potentially in line to fill in for the command module pilot's role if Arlo wasn't up to it.
Soot went on, "I'm being told by our NASA overlords that I need to hurry things up- even though they've somehow made it so these radio exchanges aren't being recorded and won't go public anytime soon."
"Oh yeah?", Arlo said.
"Yeah, I'm not the only one who wants to wish you well- though I can speak for Lucille, Reece, Raisel, Walt, and Callum, I can't speak for the legend next to me…", Soot said before a pause.
Then we heard a new voice. It was an older one, and he spoke as if he was used to using the technology his entire life.
"Hey there Cygnus crew, I hope I'm coming in clear! Otherwise, I'll have to repeat myself, and I hate that. But my name is Ritz, I'm one of your brothers in arms- so to speak. I went to space around seven years ago on a Russian Soyuz rocket. You've heard of those, I assume?"
"Holy smokes, I knew I remembered your voice from somewhere. Is that really you?", Weston interjected.
"Yessirrie, Weston and I met a while ago, I believe I was introduced as a 'coordinator' when we first met. That wasn't my idea", Ritz replied with a laugh.
Arlo then said, "Mr. Ritz, I have to say it's an honor. Also, you should see Weston's face right now."
"I'll have to imagine to the best of my abilities", he replied.
"Mr. Ritz, this may be a dumb question, but your launch wasn't televised, was it?", I asked.
"There are no dumb questions! Get used to asking the first things that come to your mind. Not only was it not televised, but it wasn't even recorded as a mission. Top-secret stuff! It took 10 years of training to get me on that rocket- but it was worth every minute to be the first dog that NASA sent into space since the end of canine training in the 1960s. One of the last dogs to be trained for NASA-service back in 1969 just so happened to be my Great-grandfather. He would have been the first beagle to do it, but I guess I inherited his dream", he said.
"Mr. Ritz, you're literally living history right now. You should be famous- not us", Weston said.
Ritz chuckled, "Oh please… I was sent up for a quick sub-orbital hop. I was back on the ground within two hours. Since NASA had stopped sending astronauts from North America, my seat on the Soyuz cost NASA $67 million back then! Plus, I landed back on dry land instead of in the ocean. Not exactly the most comfortable thing."
Such a staggering monetary value made our collective heads spin. But, if it weren't for him proving that a solitary dog was capable of maintained spaceflight, Cygnus may not have even been possible.
"I tell you, I'm 13 years old and there's nothing quite like being the Prime crew on a New Spacecraft. Even now, I've still got rocket-fuel going through my veins- so good on you all for what you're doing."
"Well…Mr. Ritz", Arlo began, "I think I speak for everyone here when I say that today's mission is as much yours as it is ours. We can't tell you how happy we are having met you today!"
"Oh boy, you all really know how to make an old dog sentimental", he chuckled, "I'm being told that you've got some business to take care of now, so I'm gonna hand this back to Soot and the other important guys. Good luck, kids!", Ritz said.
I distinctly remembered the debate regarding the use of canine astronauts becoming public as early as the 1980s (Through historical research, of course). But nothing as early as Ritz was saying.
Back then, NASA claimed they weren't going to see it through due to it being seen as cruel in the public eye and general questions surrounding the benefits of sending non-humans regardless of whether they gave consent or not.
Hearing Ritz was like hearing the voice of NASA itself on behalf of canines everywhere. He only spoke with us for a few minutes, but he said all he needed to say.
It did sadden me that he wouldn't get the credit he deserved, but….
Maybe we'd have the power to change that in the future, I thought.
Ritz's words brought me another unexpected peace.
With the excitement building minute-by-minute, it was so easy to get caught up in everything.
Arlo, our commander, would be at the helm for launch- the most visually spectacular and easily most iconic part of the mission.
Everyone was undoubtedly waiting to see what our new rocket could do.
It would likely be only a fraction of our launch viewership that would be nearly as interested to see the work once we got to the moon.
I had to re-center myself. It wasn't my time to shine just yet.
My work would be evident in a working orbital telescope rather than a magnificent flaming streak hurdling across the skies.
Do I really have the same stuff in me that Ritz does?
My answer to my own silent question surprised even me- Probably not.
I don't know when his mission was, no-one did unless Ritz told them. But he must have started training by the time he learned to read, and his mission didn't even see him leave Earth's orbit.
I just wasn't built like him.
I wondered if Whit was somewhere, sitting in his car far off-complex, listening on his radio.
How early did people wake up this morning to come see us?
What important folks were gathered in the operations and support building to watch the broadcast?
Did Mayor Goodway call a day off school in Adventure Bay so the kids could watch the launch with their families?
How many people worldwide were praying for a successful trip on our behalf?
Fear turned to anticipation. If we're doing this, light the candle already!
By T-25, white plumes of liquid oxygen started to pour out of the corners of the rocket's first stage- the craft's bottom 50-foot section.
We got a final "Good luck" call from the team in Houston. "All of us are looking forward to launch, hoping it's as smooth for you all as the countdown has been. You're looking to be on your way there, Cygnus!", came Dr. Everette's voice.
At T-minus 20 a substantially large white cloud puffed from the rocket's midsection where the first and second stages met- a sign that the pressure was relieved around the chilled plumbing lines attached to the second stage tanks.
All was going according to schedule.
I could see it from the window as it swept around the rocket and disappeared into the humid air.
Then we heard, "Stage 1 liquid oxygen fuel-load complete."
By then the rumbles had gone away. If we were still shaking, it was too subtle to tell.
By the 16- minute mark, we heard "Second stage liquid oxygen fuel-load underway."
Cryogenic helium was being pumped into our storage compartments.
Arlo gave a deep breath for the first time since entering Cygnus. Weston stretched his neck.
I caught a glimpse of the fuel gauges- slowly, but surely ticking upwards.
At T-minus 10, launch control chimed back in, "Cygnus launch control, confirm displays are configured for launch!"
There was a short pause before we heard Kingsley's voice again.
"Arlo, Rocky, Weston- On behalf of the entire NASA team here in the launch operations core and everywhere they're lending their talents today, I just wanted to congratulate you all. It has been a huge honor meeting you all and being the ones to send you on today's historic mission. We will be with you every step of the way, good luck, and Godspeed", he said proudly.
Arlo replied, "Thank you- thank you all! It has been a long time coming for sure- thank you for getting us ready. Every second of countdown's been a gift. Thank you to everyone out there, we know that this effort has been massive. Here's hoping it's only the beginning. We'll talk to you from orbit and hopefully from the moon- over."
"Copy that!", came the reply. Then we heard Dr. Rosen's voice, "Alright, go all stations for final "go for launch'.
"CDR"
"Go!", Arlo said.
"BOOSTER!
"Go."
"RETRO!"
"Go!"
"FIDO!"
"Go!"
"GUIDANCE!"
"Go-"
"CONTROL!" [Flight Controller]
"Go!"
"CAPCOM!"
"Go."
"GNC!"
"Go!"
"EECOM!"
"Go-"
"SURGEON!"
"Go!"
"Cygnus launch control, that's all stations confirmed. We are go for launch!"
Chills shot up my spine. I couldn't stop the smile from creeping onto my face, and there it stayed. Though, the pit in my stomach remained too.
Then quiet came once more.
What started out as a quiver soon escalated to me not being able to keep my paws still.
"Both stage 1 and II fuel load complete- Engine chill has started- Go for fuel shutdown"
The ground pumps had done their jobs.
It was as if I blinked, and three minutes had passed.
It was at precisely T-minus 7 minutes that the massive valves below us opened, allowing fuel to reach the top pumps of the engines.
They began to chill to a temperature cold enough to support passing our densified kerosine fuel into the main thrust chambers when Ignition began.
The condensation fully wrapped around the rocket.
"Copy, confirm fuel shutdown, Cygnus is now on terminal power"
A huge hiss sounded below us as the clamp arm on the second stage was released and the strongvac was retracted.
From that moment onward, it was as if the entire thing was alive.
It shook and hummed as if a train were passing over it.
It was indescribable, but terrifying.
We couldn't see it, but at that point half of the staff in the firing room stood from their seats and turned towards the massive windows to the launchpad.
"T-5 minutes, standby for thruster Gimble- check"
The massive thruster cones below us, which were hidden, turned in all directions. They were the size of church bells.
The entire craft swayed back and forth,
I could hear Arlo laugh- not like a kid in a candy store though.
He and Weston were laser-focused on what was in front of them.
Neither one of them would dare take their eyes off the screens then.
4 minutes…
3 minutes…...
2 minutes to launch.
I breathed deep in an effort to keep myself together.
At that point, it was near-impossible to tell which noises were supposed to be happening and which weren't.
The 'sleeping dragon' beneath us began to stir- the vibrations intensified.
Everything shook. The hisses, faint under the rumblings, sounded like particles whizzing by at high speeds.
What few skinny structures still held us upright to the tower let us go.
"Cygnus has hit Terminal count, now on internal power"
"Stage I closed out"
…..
"Stage II closed out"
….
"Go Auto-Idle"
….
"T-minus 60 seconds"
This couldn't be real- it couldn't actually be happening-right?
…
"50"
"All pressures nominal"
….
"40"
"Sound-suppression water system armed!"
"30"
….
"20"
"Sound-suppression water system go!"
Two massive plumes of water erupted onto the launchpad.
In those last seconds, I thought about Ryder and the pups. About Reverend Aldine. I hoped they were all together at the NASA seats.
In that last couple of seconds, I guess….I said goodbye to them.
Truly said goodbye. I didn't know if I meant goodbye forever or just bye to the way things used to be.
10
9
8
7
6
It was out of my control.
5
"Ignition sequence start!"
4
3
2
1
0
"All engines running….And liftoff! 45 minutes past the hour!"
The Cygnus beast unloaded with a roar that encompassed every ounce of my being.
The sound was reflected from the ground back to us as the massive first-stage engines lit.
It was so loud that I couldn't even hear the earphones pumping voices directly into my head.
While I couldn't feel exactly when it jumped off of the ground, I felt what I could have only described as an Earthquake rip through the crew cabin.
Arlo managed to give his calls of "Cleared the tower" and "Roger, Cygnus is in roll"-not that I could hear them.
The rocket slowly began to roll counterclockwise, as the noise became less and less deafening.
Although I couldn't see it, once we'd gotten 30 seconds "uphill" the wide, red fan-shaped flame that propelled us condensed into a white and blue cone-shape as the entire spacecraft began its gradual tilt.
It wasn't until then that I really realized the staggering amount of power beneath us.
The now 'T-Plus' clock counted up to T+ 47 seconds when we heard, "Go for Stage I throttle-down."
At T+ 1 minute we hit "Max-Q"- the period where the rocket passed beyond the sound barrier and the vehicle was put under the most stress.
It only took 8 seconds beyond that point for Cygnus to exceed Mach 1.
"Vehicle is supersonic"
By T+ 1:20 we heard-
"Stage 1- go throttle up"
"Roger, Go throttle up", Arlo replied.
Max Q was, on paper, the most dangerous period of launch and we had ripped through it in record time.
No amount of training could prepare you for the feeling.
The drag was unlike anything that could be replicated by simulations or dreams.
MacGyver taught me what to do. You had to push your lungs forward to counter the force and avoid a g-induced loss of consciousness.
The suits couldn't save you from everything, however. I started to feel my vocal cords moving in the back of my throat.
T+1:25
Arlo said. "Standby for 1-bravo"
"Mark 1- bravo", came the response.
Cygnus was pushing 2.5 g's, easily over 15,000 miles/ hour (24140.16 km/hr.).
I could see out of the window comfortably at that point as the blue Florida sky started to get darker, shade by shade.
It won't be long before the first-stage engines burn themselves out and we separate from the bottom half, I thought myself through it.
Since it was a reusable stage, it would disconnect itself from us, merge itself into a lower orbit than us, and sling around the Earth before de-orbiting and landing itself on a drone ship in the sea.
Arlo started exchanging calls for our next "milestone"- codenamed Mode-1-Charlie.
"Standby 'Mode 1 Charlie!'", Arlo said excitedly.
"Mark- Mode I Charlie- Standby MECO (main engine cutoff)"
…..
"Copy you're go Mode IC"
"Copy"
…
"Confirmed Main engine cut-off, standby for First-stage separation"
Arlo gave us a sharp whistle, which was our pre-determined code for 'hold onto something'.
Right at T+2:45, someone somewhere pulled the trigger.
It felt like someone hit the back of my seat with a sledgehammer, accompanied by the second largest boom of the day.
All visible space around the rocket was momentarily filled with fire, white with licks of green around the edges.
We weren't on fire ourselves, but it encompassed the entire vehicle for that split instance.
The first stage broke away, along with the two white-hot rings that connected it.
Arlo then said, "Engine Skirt's gone- Separation confirmed, go Stage 2 ignition!"
When the second stage engines lit, there was a momentary skyrocket inside of the crew compartment- so abrupt that I thought I would fly in between Weston and Arlo's seats and smack right into the control display.
"Second stage propulsion nominal"
"Signal- Ground station- Bermuda-nominal trajectory"
One of the stations tracking us from the Atlantic Ocean reported we were in good shape.
It was definitely a different feeling being propelled by the second set of thrusters, but it was very smooth- like riding a metal rollercoaster immediately after riding a wooden one.
At T+3:30, I looked out the small window to my immediate left and saw the Earth in its full rotating color and glory. It took my breath away.
We were moving up the Eastern Seaboard past North Carolina towards Canada.
I heard the others exhale.
At T+5:00, I saw the display read that we were up to 5800 miles/hour (9334.195 km/hr), 200 miles downrange from the Kennedy Space center.
"No-go on coastal abort zone- Setúbal. Too tall"
"Copy- looks like we won't need it", Arlo replied.
That call meant that we were traveling too high and fast to reach our abort corridor off the west coast of Portugal for any last-minute splashdown.
From what I had studied, it was better to fly too high than too low, or "short" as they would call it.
At T+10:00, the rocket began small attitude maneuvers to ensure it didn't spin before our next 'milestone'.
The cold gas-thrusters built into the side of the rocket itself began shooting small puffs to get us ready for the second stage cutoff.
While this was going on, I noticed that the small straps on our suits were floating.
A cube slowly floated over Weston's left shoulder and back to me. It was connected to the console by a surprisingly long string, so as not to just aimlessly float through the capsule.
It was our Zero-G indicator, meant to visibly confirm that we were where we needed to be Gravity-wise.
I caught it and saw that each face of the cube had a picture on it.
Since there were three of us, each of us had two pictures on the cube.
I had no idea who picked out the photos, or who authorized this to be our indicator rather than a stuffed animal- as had become popular in recent spaceflights.
Arlo had a photo of him alongside his mate at what appeared to be a national park of some sort.
It looked as though it could have been taken a week before us meeting, while the second photo of him was at a noticeably younger age.
It was his NASA astronaut graduating class, entirely comprised of canine candidates.
As for Weston, his personal life was entirely a mystery to me, so I had no idea if I should have even taken the time to look.
But he also had a picture with his mate, with the golden retriever in question kissing his cheek under the umbrella of what appeared to be a café patio. His smile was so big, it looked entirely unnatural.
Weston's second photo was the one that surprised me, though. He appeared to be slightly younger in front of a home in what looked like a suburban planned community.
He was with an entire human family, including another dog that looked like a mix between a border collie and something else.
His massive Shiba Inu family that had said goodbye to him at the gate was mysteriously nowhere to be found.
Rather than overthink it, I flipped to my pictures, wondering if Ryder or Reverend Aldine were asked to send in their favorite memories of me.
This too, however, caught me by surprise.
The first picture was one of me and Reverend Aldine when I was a puppy (well, a younger puppy anyways). I didn't even recognize it, but I looked so happy. For the first time since I'd left Earth, I smiled.
The other picture was of me and all the pups playing in the lookout yard the previous Fall- my favorite season.
I remembered that day fondly; the first week where the right chill hit the air and hints of smoke joined the wind.
The weather had changed pretty early that year, so leaves were already on the ground. Rubble specifically grabbed a bunch in his rig that he found around some giant oak tree and moved the pile to the lookout so we could play in it.
I missed that, but I was far beyond thrilled at what I'd just been through to feel anything else.
We started to feel some of what felt like aircraft turbulence at T+12:18.
We were 200 kilometers/120 miles high.
"Standby Second stage…Go second stage cutoff"
Four massive panels silently disconnected themselves from the back of the craft, as well as another thick ring that covered a smaller set of thrusters.
"Second stage cutoff confirmed, trajectory's nominal!", Arlo said.
Our propellants kept us on track- the hypergolic fuel MMH or monomethyl hydrazine and the oxidizer NTO -or nitrous nitrogen tetra oxide- mixed together and ignited without the need for a flame to light it.
This would be the same process that would lift Origenes off of the moon if we could manage it.
Then, right at T+13:00 , the external tank unhooked itself from us.
We could all see it out of the leftmost window, silently drifting away like a boat through water- its shiny painted snarl lit by the unfettered sunlight.
It was still venting cryogenics as it fell away. Eventually jets would activate to aid in its fall back to Earth.
Although it wasn't reusable like the first-stage vehicle, the tank had its own heat shield to ensure it could make it through the atmosphere and splash down in the Atlantic Ocean.
And thus, we had crossed our last milestone. The three of us inhabited the final vehicle.
We wouldn't split any further until we got to the moon, which would see me and Weston bid farewell to Arlo and descend in the landing module.
The slow grumble of the engines was all I could feel at that point.
Then we heard, "Everything's looking good on our end, crew! That's all for us on the Green Team! Arlo, Weston, Rocky- on behalf of us all we'd like to wish you good luck and rest up while you can. We know you've got it in you!"
Arlo happily replied, "Thanks Green Team, that was something we won't be forgetting anytime soon! We're all in good health! Thanks for sticking with us!"
"One last call here- Confirm go for parking orbit! You're in good shape and on your way. Thank you for flying Cygnus, over."
"Roger. Can confirm go parking orbit! You're very welcome!", Arlo said.
"You're a go for parking orbit Cygnus, we'll kick you over to the White team shortly", came the response.
Just like that, our 13-minute flight to orbit- the longest 13 minutes of my entire life- came to a close.
Arlo, Weston, and I gave our first real exhales in hours.
For the first time in our lives, we were no longer Earthlings. It would only be an uphill battle from then on. But there wasn't an astro on Cygnus that wasn't ready for it.
*****News Broadcast Point-Of-View(3rd person P.O.V.)*****
"That had to be the most visually breathtaking rocket-launch I've ever seen. It just leapt off of the pad there and got up and out in just about 13-minutes. As you just heard there, Mission control just confirmed that the Cygnus Recovery and Support Vehicle-3 Mission has completed its first step beautifully and with no errors. They've just gone into orbit now and will soon be making their rounds to line up a shot to the moon in three and a half days' time."
"I want to turn your attention now, before we go to break, to a small piece of information that the flight surgeon at Launch control has let us in on."
"We have the launch-time Heartrates for the crew during that initial first stage ignition into orbit."
"So, for context. In terms of dogs- a normal heartbeat varies on size: Small dogs and puppies normally have heart rates of 120 to 160 beats per minute"
"Typically, 180-200 beats per minute is heart-attack range when not accounting for adrenaline."
"So, with that being said, here are the launch-time heartrates for the Cygnus crew today":
Arlo- 175 bpm/ Weston- 192 bpm/ Rocky- 133 bpm.
***End of Ch. 25***