Chapter 11• Prepared for the worst
*Still Day 4 of Origenes Crisis*
October 19th.
The next few days of my life passed in swift and scheduled fashion.
Firstly though, I learned the day of my first flight with MacGyver that my suspicions as well as NASA's projections were accurate. An Earth observatory that had been keeping an eye on the telescope confirmed that the stuck thruster had burned through all of its fuel and that the craft had drifted into the waiting embrace of the moon's gravity.
This was expressly told to me, although I later overheard another conversation between NASA workers during a brief stint in which I was able to slip away from Sophie's ever-watchful eye.
The two spoke about the possibility of a "steep dive" because of the moon's pull. The telescope could be brought down to the surface at any trajectory, shallow or steep. If it were to be the latter dive, the impact would almost certainly render Origenes damaged beyond hope of repair.
Although the telescope had burned through its emergency fuel, its circuitry alone was a definite fire hazard. I tried not to picture a charred mess on the lunar surface. Not only because of all that we'd lose, but also that it would mean my efforts had been for nothing.
The more optimistic of the two had remarked, "The current trajectory is pretty much accurate to the sims (simulations) though. Looking like it's gonna skid down in the Eastern half of the 'Mare Imbrium'."
"Yeesh", said the other. "Better hope it doesn't drift into the mountains. I mean, there's just no chance if it goes that far", said the other.
As soon as I got the chance, I found a computer and looked up a topographical Map of the moon.
I found that the Mare Imbrium, or the ""Sea of Showers/Rains" is located on the Northwest (upper left) portions of the moon's surface.
As far as previous landings went, Apollo 15 was the closest to land near the area and it wasn't anywhere relatively close on account of the mountain range that separates the Mare Imbrium from the Mare Serenitatis.
From that point, it would be about two days' time (at least, they speculated) before the telescope would hit the moon.
And so, two days passed by.
/
*Day 5 of Origenes Crisis*
October 20th.
My days consisted of the following tribulations:
More Sensory deprivation. Flight training. Meetings upon meetings going over what the inside of the telescope would look like and how I was to repair its systems.
I answered every question asked of me with 100% accuracy, having studied the notes during what little free time I had left.
As far as putting these into practice, however, all I had were the voices in my headset- the camera as the endless pairs of ever-watching eyes.
When I had first approached NASA's scale-recreation of the telescope, I was in awe. It needed its own wing in the large building, just for the proportions to be accurate.
Origenes, in real life and in simulation form, bolstered 43.5 feet in length and 14 feet in width. It included the telescope itself, as well as storage areas for instruments near the rear. Its weight; About 27,000 pounds, mostly due to the massive refracting lenses in the scope's eye. Basically, the same size and weight of a school bus.
I would have to enter through an opening, originally meant for a human astronaut to stand in, and start at the innermost section- then work my way back out.
Added to my painful routine were "dress rehearsals" where I- unsuited- performed all actions that I would undergo from launch day to our return from the moon.
This included walking to and from the landing module, entering and exiting recreations of the command module after it had splashed down in the water, as well as moving through the spacecraft before it split in half alongside other crew members.
They were close quarters to say the least.
Though, these co-op simulations were my only chance to see the other astros aside from bumping into one of them at random.
While I didn't see them all, I participated in co-op sims with Soot- the wolfhound from Virgin Galactic, Walt- the Shorthaired Pointer from SpaceX, Lucille- the border collie from SpaceX, and Callum- the labradoodle from Boeing.
Every now and then Soot would offer a few words of encouragement. They were much appreciated.
Lucille would feign envy at the fact that I was the first to undergo flight training in the group of nine.
Every time I stepped near another astro, the only one I could think about was Weston. If our current ranking system didn't mean anything, then that meant Weston could very well end up being on the mission with me.
Every time I saw the word "Co-op" on the itinerary, I prepared myself to see him. But I didn't.
What would he say?
What would I say?
It shouldn't have mattered, but it did.
I was letting one person rattle me.
/
*Day 6 of Origenes Crisis*
October 21st.
Somewhat fittingly, Day 6 began with my first 3-man training exercise in the Cygnus model, the same space that earned me my less-than- endearing nickname.
This specific scenario was meant to show us what to do in case an internally fixable problem occurred.
Although it was a stressful possibility to picture, I had quickly become familiar with my surroundings inside of the spacecraft.
In this simulation, the three of us would be in the combined craft- just as we would be after liftoff on the way to the moon. The specific "emergency" in this case would be a malfunction in the panels that kept the ships command module and lunar lander from separating prematurely.
While the two ships are able to rendezvous after splitting in lunar orbit, the crew would be spending the majority of its time in the command module. Plus, the rendezvous sequence can only occur with a pilot in the lunar module as well as the command module.
With the added possibility (or 'story', since we were addressing a hypothetical scenario) of this accident happening in the period between leaving Earth's gravity and reaching the moon, it was in no way an ideal spot.
The task was to "save the mission" without need for an Extra-vehicular activity- meaning not wasting time by sending an astro outside of the craft on a tether to fix the issue.
I would be in the Mission specialist spot, which meant that my job was to initially stay out of the way and give help when it was absolutely necessary.
Next to me was Walt in the Lunar Module pilot's spot. And, as a pleasant surprise Arlo, the terrier who I hadn't seen since our last conversation, joined us last in the role of Command Module pilot.
The radio was set up exactly as it would during the real deal. The NASA engineers would be in our ears the whole way through.
The hatch was closed, we waited about ten minutes, and then the comms lit up and told us to "Begin en-route disaster response simulation."
All I ended up doing was handing Arlo a special clamp from the toolkit that would be connected to my spacesuit; then telling "Mission Control" that the situation was normal when they asked for a 'status-check'.
All in all, it was underwhelming.
But, it wasn't exactly my desire to encounter more stressful situations if I didn't need to. Nor did I want to make additional stress for anyone else.
Besides, I spent the longest time I'd ever spent in that mock-spacecraft with two other astros, and didn't feel the least but anxious.
The flights that I took with MacGyver changed a bit after Day 4. The late October sky and I became very well acquainted.
Since our talk on Day 4, MacGyver had taken me up on my offer for more intense flights and more complex maneuvers. While our outings were shorter, they also took a greater toll on my body.
By Day 6, I managed to keep myself from falling down after getting out of the jet.
"You okay there, brother?", MacGyver asked.
He had been a wonderful guide, telling me whatever roll or bank was coming next- coaching me on how to breathe through it.
I just prayed it was making some difference- helping me stand out from the others.
"I'm alright, just need water I'm sure", I said trying to hide my shaking. I managed to keep it together until I was out of sight.
I rounded a corner and fell down in a heap. It felt like every ounce of my energy was ripped from me the second I touched the ground.
My heart eventually leveled out and I was able to stand back up.
I didn't understand. I never felt more than a little bit woozy after missions with the PAW Patrol that involved flying- but this was different.
I had the feeling MacGyver knew I was still going through it, but he wasn't going to say anything if I didn't bring it up.
After returning to the main NASA building, I found that I was about 2o minutes ahead of schedule. I decided to find a bathroom stall and just sit.
On my way, I bumped into Mr. Kingsley, who was apparently looking for me.
"Oh Rocky, I was on my way to update you and Weston!", he said.
"Well, maybe we'll just find a room so I can follow protocol as much as humanly possible- I don't think just anyone wandering the halls needs to hear this."
We found an empty conference room on a section of the floor that I had never been on.
He sat down and I waited with bated breath.
"So, I'm sure you've heard about the projections. Well, I can say that the Origenes telescope has landed in a spot where a recovery is possible", he said.
I exhaled, "That's…... really good news."
I smiled.
"Unfortunately, we still don't know how bad the damage is, but we can tell it slid by the impressions in the rock, but you've still got a lot to do I'm sure", he said.
"Where did it end up going down, if you can say?", I asked.
"Sea of Showers, East side", he replied.
Exactly where they had said- approximately anyway.
Mr. Kingsley then asked about how I was doing, I lied and said I had never felt better.
Although, as soon as he'd left me to go tell Weston, I spun my chair around in a mini celebration of my own.
It was a big deal that NASA managed to redirect the telescope in such a short span of time, preventing it from flying out into the unending emptiness of space and becoming irretrievable.
No matter who would take the rocket up to see it, the people behind the scenes would always be heroes in their own right.
Just as I expected, no-one around me even mentioned the news- which just meant that the reality of the mission's goal had hit everyone.
In addition to the knowledge of a salvageable Origenes now on the moon, Mr. Kingsley had also let me know that the NASA directors would make the decision for the three crews (Prime, Backup, and Reserve) on Day 9- October 24th.
It wasn't the time to slack on my part, especially considering what was coming in the next few days.
Soon I would be subjected to training in the G-force Centrifuge, harness training, zero gravity simulations, underwater simulations, and "The Chair"- a machine I would be strapped into that fit the exact dimensions of the real seats in the Cockpit of our spacecraft- which would simulate the abrupt jerks and forces associated with re-entry, launch, the opening of parachutes, and landings (emergency and otherwise).
All of these would be done whilst wearing whichever suit I would have on during the actual missions. Aside from the command module pilot who'd only need two, I would have three suits total for launch, reentry, and EVAs (those that the Lunar module pilot and I would wear while outside of our spacecraft).
That day, I would dawn a version of the suit that would keep me alive on the moon's cold surface- if I was lucky.
The suits themselves were bulky yet fit snugly and allowed me to walk around and put pressure on all four paws with little discomfort.
Of course, it took about four people in total to get it on me.
I grew accustomed to walking in it quite quickly, according to the team of NASA folks surrounding me.
"Looks good on you", one commented.
"Green means go!", laughed another.
I got a chance to see the other "practice suits" too. Those in the service like Reece and Raisel- Air Force/ Navy- had their ranks on their sleeves in gold alongside the seals of their branches.
As for the likes of Lucille and Walt of SpaceX their suits sported black around the SpaceX logo, the same went for NASA's red, Virgin Galactic's navy blue, and Boeing's pastel blue.
Each suit was unique, yet mine was a little different. Or shall I say special.
My NASA-branded suit had green stripes- my PAW Patrol recycling shade of green.
It was as if I had another piece of home with me, and it made me feel a lot better.
I got a taste of some additional feelings in my first suited repair simulation.
After closing the visor on my helmet, I was led once again to my Scale-model of the Origenes telescope.
Climbing into the telescope's only entrance and exit was hard enough.
My breath eventually fogged up the visor. Which led me to breathe through my nose.
The only issue there was the temperature in my suit, which began to rise rapidly.
The hotter it got the more I needed to sweat. Panting- the way dogs sweat through their tongues to regulate their body temperature- was entirely necessary in such an environment. Which then re-fogged the visor.
I don't pant much, for whatever reason, under normal circumstances.
But, this was the equivalent to high-stress exercise.
A tiny beep and a red light notified me that my suit was on due course to overheating.
With the camera and earpiece built into my helmet, everything I saw and did would be under tight scrutiny.
My instructions from "mission control" were rather simple.
In the very unlikely possibility that a single "bad apple" was found, which was code for a dead/dying slab of circuitry within the electronic boxes on the support system module beneath the fine guidance sensor, I would have to go remove and replace it.
In layman's terms, the things that hold data and keep the system running independent from the stations on Earth can short out and damage those around it.
Since the telescope fell and slid on the moon, it is possible that the majority if not all of the circuitries could be damaged beyond hope of replacement.
The unfortunate layout of said circuitry was also problematic. These slabs were as big as record cases, while the screws that held them in place were about a third of the size of a pencil eraser.
Even the most patient humans need 100% concentration to unhook them the right way, ensuring that the slab didn't damage anything else.
With me not being able to see very well, in an already low-light situation, I didn't stand a chance.
The NASA techs helping me were working hard, toning down the temperature in my suit remotely, which would have to be done manually on the moon.
I had done all of the studying possible on this machine, yet I had to let the voices in my ear talk me through it- just moving my paws and tools where they told me to- between breaths.
After the most physically strenuous hour of my life, I managed to undo all 8 screws holding the slab in and slowly slid it out of its slot.
By that point, the temperature-alert beeps were making themselves known every fifteen seconds.
I backed out of the exit.
I banged my head on the side but didn't care.
The NASA workers assisted me in taking off my helmet. I sat against a wall and handed over the fake slab to one of the head engineers named Maddox. He just stared at the slab and then grabbed my paw.
"Look at this", he said harshly.
I looked down, wiping the moisture from my eyes.
He tilted my glove closer to my face.
Then I saw it.
There were about 7 tears in the glove, each so small that I could barely see them. But I felt the air coming through them- it was cold.
"Those are what we call micro-tears", Maddox said. "Had that been real, your suit would have been compromised and then we'd have to send someone to get your body."
I looked down, too tired to be frustrated. I knew that some parts of my suit were more vulnerable than others, but it didn't make a difference.
I knew it, even though our real suits could automatically go into what is called a "choke" where if a tear happens near the hand (or Paw) and is detected by the suit, an airtight seal is triggered at the shoulder preventing the cold vacuum of space from reaching the astronaut's head.
But, this wasn't fool-proof. In fact, depending on the severity of the tear and which suit layer is impacted, it only worked in theory. Best case scenario if this happened while I was in space; I would lose my arm and would most definitely pass out from the pain.
This was experimental technology- with no way to test of it would work in an actual life-threatening space emergency.
From what I had read, the mission would be ordered to abort and Origenes would be left on the moon if any significant threat to astronaut life came about.
Even though I had two layers of NASA gloves underneath my external suit, no number of layers could save me from a compromised suit.
I looked around at the tens of engineers and technicians scrambling to the Origenes model, fiddling with parts of my suit, watching me.
No-one came to reassure me that I could come back from this- that everything was okay.
It was just silence and work.
I didn't know whether some were angry that they would have to repair my suit, or if they just didn't have the time or energy to waste telling me how bad I had done.
How many of them would have a say in the final decision? I wondered.
Maddox likely would.
Eventually, a harness would be added to the suit's oxygen pack that would connect all the way to the ceiling in these simulation hangers. They would perfectly replicate what it's like on the lunar surface, lifting the suit up to account for 1/6th of Earth's normal gravity.
It would only get harder from then on.
I was tired; Disappointed and tired.
The mission had been given a green light and yet I felt that I had missed it already.
For whatever reason, I decided to hold on to that notion.
There was more to be done.
****End of Chapter 11****