Chapter 32• Autumn Fall
*Still Day 17 of Origenes Crisis*
/
I had snapped awake- this time for good. Nothing had gone on in my absence.
Weston too sat back in his chair.
The zero-G indicator floated against the rightmost wall.
Arlo's paws darted around the screens.
I leaned my head to the side to stretch my neck as far as the helmet would allow, which wasn't much.
We'd completed our only necessary correction maneuver and were still steady at 82.3 miles high.
"I can see your biometrics, were you asleep?", Arlo asked me.
I instantly felt embarrassed. Just because Houston couldn't see my suit readings at the time, didn't mean Arlo couldn't.
"Oh, sorry", I admitted, "I just- couldn't keep my eyes open."
"It's fine- you aren't the only one– I have Weston disconnected from comms for the moment."
"I didn't know you could do that", I said.
"I can tell by the biometrics that he's asleep too. This is the only way he wouldn't notice. It can't be helped, from now on our bodies are gonna start rebelling against us sleep-wise", Arlo replied.
I glanced over at Weston, who hadn't moved in the slightest since I'd awoken.
Since it was just Arlo and I, I made the decision to just eat the metaphorical 'frog' and ask Arlo a tough question.
"I'm trying to take your advice about Weston- is there any other advice you can give me before it's just me and him?", I asked.
"Well…I don't want to overwhelm you. It's one of those things that you can't really prepare for until you're actually doing it", he replied.
Arlo couldn't turn around, of course, but I feel like he would have if he could.
"Are you worried?", he asked.
"Well….yes. And concerned", I returned.
Arlo laughed, "Yeah, I guess that was a silly question. We're all pretty much in a perpetual state of worry, aren't we?"
"I know I am. But, I just keep telling myself that there's nothing coming that I can't handle", I said, sounding a little bit childish.
Arlo quietly added, "I wish I could steal some of that optimism."
Just then, Weston began to stir.
In his haste, Arlo gave me his last bit of advice, "Listen, he's tough. But you're the expert when it comes to all things hardware. He knows that and he'd be a fool to deny it. Don't be afraid to let him know that he's supposed to support you too."
He proceeded to hit a button as Weston stretched- not a moment too soon.
"Did you sleep well, Weston?", Arlo asked.
"Not really, I had a dream", he replied.
"Your rhythms did get a little odd there, what about?", Arlo asked.
"I…um….well…I- I actually just forgot it", Weston said, it sounded like less of a stammer and more like he sincerely forgot the dream mere seconds after remembering.
"Oh, I hate when that happens", I said, "It'll come back to you."
I realized I was giving advice entirely unprompted, so I added, "I hope it does, anyway."
"It must not have been-", Weston started, then stopped.
Yet another instance of me failing to have a normal interaction with Weston was mercifully interrupted by the moment I'd been silently waiting for.
Just about 50 minutes after reaching the moon, the strings of light slowly streaked across the crater-laden surface.
Like pulling back a curtain, the starkly contrasting world of light and darkness traded places.
"Important-", Weston finished his thought as the craft walls began to slightly rumble. The moon was gorgeous, almost appearing as if it would jump through our windows. It was that close- pictures and documentaries couldn't do it any justice.
Then, we witnessed our first "Earthrise."
Slowly but surely, the Earth seemed to peer around the moon's horizon. There it was-home.
Houston chimed in, "Cygnus crew, we're reading you as coming just out of the dark-zone, how's status-over?"
"We're all good here, just….taking in the sights", Arlo replied, just as awe-struck as I was.
There was something so vulnerable about it.
I couldn't tell if it was just the perspective, but Earth looked so far away- much longer than a 3.5-day journey.
The most surprising facet of all, however, was the color. I knew the photos could never recreate it; but I was expecting a brilliant, deep lazuline. Instead, our planet shined like a cloudy, pale blue stone- its spin much harder to see from our orbit.
Dr. Sherry Everette spoke again, likely snapping us out of a collective trance. "Cygnus, your systems are looking good-we've got your orbit at solid for the next two weeks without correction- hopefully we won't need you there that long."
"Copy that, how's our Satellite?", Arlo asked.
"Well, that's the snag. I wish I had good news to match. We've been running signal checks for the past 30 minutes with not much static on the other end. Origenes could be on the end of her emergency power", she said.
No one said anything. I felt my heart start to drop, but I forcibly stopped it from doing so.
Although we didn't want to, we could apparently sit and orbit until we heard anything that resembled some manner of a response.
Our craft wasn't outfitted with the hardware to monitor Origenes. So, we could have every tool in the world to fix it, but only the stations on Earth could determine if it had enough life to justify the attempt.
We'd have to face the facts sooner or later- we could have turned up just a few hours too late.
"Standby", came the call.
Arlo wasted no time in addressing us, "Well, they said they weren't hearing 'much'- that doesn't mean they aren't hearing anything."
"I think we should go down anyway. There's a possibility they're missing something- I mean this tech has been wrong before", Weston said.
Twenty minutes passed while my brain still failed to provide me with anything worth saying to ease the situation.
"Okay Cygnus, it's your call", it was the White team's head- not Dr. Everette this time.
"So, I assume that means we haven't seen much of a change", Arlo said.
"Assume nothing, Commander. We can't get a read on whether Origenes is alive or not- We know it's still there- that's all we've got."
"With all due respect", Arlo brokered, "protocol states we just pack it up and head home- but if I didn't know any better, I'd say we're getting a 'green light' to make the descent."
"It's not like we could stop you- technically. Let me know if there's anything you need stricken from the record- we're no longer broadcasting to the public", came the reply.
It sounded as much like a challenge as it did a warning. I couldn't help but think, despite my vaulting excitement; what if this was the plan all along? Get the public on NASA's side, avoid controversy until you get the rocket off of the ground, then give the pups the controls once you've put them at the doorstep of their mission.
I wondered what NASA was saying to the news stations. If they wanted, they could blot out all mission objectives as 'CLASSIFIED' and wait. They could just as easily label us as 'Rogue'- disobeying direct orders. Or, they could lie and say that they'd never re-established comms with us.
I couldn't tell if it was insanity or brilliance.
Mr. Kingsley, I'm really impressed, I thought to myself.
Arlo took a long pause and then spoke-"Strike that whole last exchange, if you don't mind-"
That was that- not flashy, not official, not pretty by any means.
Origenes was moved to 'entirely questionable' in status. We were given full control over how to proceed.
My tail wagged.
My heartbeat quickened.
I wasn't going to say it because I already knew it- We have to try.
"If it's my call, we're going down", Weston said.
"Copy that- Standby for the Orange team", came the reply.
"Good luck."
I didn't even realize he'd hit the button, but he did.
Just like that, Arlo and Weston shined in my face once again. They surged ahead without taking any time to overanalyze the situation.
"Time to prep for landing module boarding- you and me", Weston said to me as he unbuckled himself from his seat.
Our will had finally won, so they weren't going to take a second of it for granted.
We'd be skipping a "sleep period", but I couldn't see any possible way any of us would be thinking of sleep.
"In 4 orbits, we should be good", Weston said before turning to Arlo, "I mean, it's your call. Veto me if you have to."
"Don't you think we should wait, you know, at least for a fifth?", Arlo asked.
"No, I don't. I had a Nightmare last night, I'm ready to get out of here", Weston said rather quick, "no offense, you keep a lovely space."
"And you think I haven't had any nightmares? I'm just saying, we don't exactly have to rush it now", he replied.
I could tell Arlo was doing it for my sake.
"It's alright", I interjected, "Let's do it now."
Arlo made a face.
"I mean, we can't go home until we finish the job, can we?", I added. I felt like that would reach him.
Arlo sighed, but re-addressed the Orange team, "Okay, so…protocol says a minimum of 5-7 lunar revolutions. Is there any way we can fast-track that?"
One thing I didn't like about the Orange team was their affinity for long silences after being presented with questions.
Still, eventually they stated, "You could squeeze it in a fourth orbit at the earliest- If that's what your module pilot deems necessary."
"Let's go then. We'll sleep once we get there", Weston said, "Are you okay with that, Arlo? I mean you have to sleep too."
"I'm wide awake now", Arlo replied, floating down to a storage compartment. It puffed tiny steam chutes when it opened.
Inside laid our EVA suits- the long-term, heavy-duty iterations. Made for less blast protection and more temperature regulation. Thick, treaded boots. Clear visors, wider than those on our launch/reentry suits. If we wanted something iconic for ourselves, we certainly had it.
I hadn't dared to look at them before then.
"Rocky, you're the shortest- we'll get you suited first", Arlo said.
"Yeah- a-alright", I stammered.
Of course, we'd already practiced donning our suits on Earth, but I was prepared to do it by myself if absolutely necessary. Arlo and Weston assisted as best they could in the floaty conditions.
It felt like I was putting on a thick blanket, pulling the zippers with my teeth before the others would strap everything shut. Finally, Weston placed my helmet over my head, as if I were being knighted by a royal court of some kind.
"Before I do this, scratch your nose", Weston said.
I did so, remembering the age-old NASA warning concerning the inevitable itch that befell every suited astronaut.
"And scratch behind your ears, too", he added.
I obeyed once more, then proceeded to scratch the rest of my head and face while I was at it. "Good boy", Weston jokingly remarked, then he snapped the helmet into place.
I began to inhale and exhale manually. The air was somehow fresher in the suit than the spacecraft itself- but it wasn't as warm.
"Okay, leak check"
Arlo held a portable pressure gauge and checked every valve and tube I had on my suit. It felt closer to a normal PAW Patrol suit than I thought it would. It was NASA-made, lined with memory foam like the others, and somehow those first-day measurements delivered a miracle.
It didn't take long for my suit to pull a full 180-degree switch. My silent nightmare.
"It's so warm, is it supposed to feel like this?", I asked.
"Oh yeah, especially now that your body's gotten used to space-cold. The suit is configured to your resting temperature on Earth, not in space", Arlo said.
It sounded obvious, but I was in a slight panic.
Luckily, 'space-cold' was an Arlo-ism; one of the terms he'd adopted and used as if it was slang that any astronaut would know once they felt it. Hearing an Arlo-ism was enough to make me feel slightly better- my temperature began to drop.
Weston had already managed to fit half of his regalia on, which pushed Arlo to insist he not rush his process.
"Can you check his suit temperature first? I want to actually hear it- not over radio", Weston insisted.
"98 degrees Fahrenheit", Arlo said, "It should be keeping you pretty cool- much cooler than that. Are you having some kind of hot flash or something?"
"I don't know, this has never happened to me before- well, I guess that's not true- it's happened before….when I was in suit training", I managed to reply, as I sincerely wanted to rip the suit off of me.
Weston shook his head.
101.0 to 102.5°F (38.3 to 39.2°C) was the range for normalcy, at least when it pertained to me and being sick. Anything under 99 degrees F would be cause for alarm, as I always tended to run on the cool side whenever my temperature was taken.
It would give Katie fits, but it's just how I was.
Arlo had already gotten Weston fully suited- aside from the helmet- by the time I had composed myself.
"I'm fine, really I am", I assured Arlo over the radio.
"Just take your time", Weston cut in, "Rushing won't do any of us any good."
"You've got three more orbits to get used to the feeling anyway", Arlo added.
I stopped dead in my tracks- whatever I was going to say completely flew out of my brain.
One additional orbit had already passed us all by and I hadn't even noticed. So, I sat down and focused my brain on calming things.
"C'mon, you're gonna be alright", I heard through the helmet radio after Arlo had finished Weston's leak check. "I'm good now", I lied, "It's just like before."
"Before? Like, when the engineers almost killed you?", Weston asked.
I giggled, "Yeah, just like back then. I was really confident before the burning smell", I remarked as if it had happened a number of years ago.
Arlo stepped back and just looked at us, "You know, I really hate to send the 'bonded pair' away so soon. But….you two really look like you've done this before", he said with an admiring smile.
"Thanks Arlo", Weston said, "Nice to know we finally look the part, it's been a long time coming."
There was something I didn't like about having to talk on the radio despite being right next to each other. I think the fast-paced launch protocols and the long sitting periods made me not mind it as much before but after days of talking as if we were bunkmates, the suits felt more restrictive than ever.
Arlo had opened the hatch to the landing module and we climbed down to our seats. It was a stiff and slow process compared to being strapped into the rocket on Earth, which was really saying something.
Arlo was supposed to put on his EVA suit too- but opted to stay in his trip-kit. If something went wrong, he'd have about as much protection as could be offered by a pair of pajamas. As always, he didn't seem the slightest bit worried.
In my helmet, Houston was silent, but Arlo went back and forth on his hand-held radio during the whole ordeal.
The bottom half of our vessel was so unfamiliar to me- it definitely felt like we were about to leave what had become most familiar to us while traversing the vast unknown. They didn't call the command module the 'mothership' for no reason.
The Landing module was, of course, different than its much more welcoming counterpart.
This is the best way to describe it: Imagine a square of extra-padded Rollercoaster seating connected to the interior of each wall. Now, if every wall consisted of seats, I could have sat Arlo, Weston, myself, the entire remainder of the Paw Patrol including Ryder and still had 5 empty seats left.
But, the lander had only the 4 corners of the square as seating, with either full storage hatches or control panels lining the walls. The four corners each had foot-long triangular windows so Weston could see in all directions and off of the mirrors we could control. No wasted space.
All of this made up the perimeter of the square. The center resembled a disconnected counterspace just low enough that you would trip over it if you didn't know it was there. One side of this "inner square featured a hatch that opened down to the space where a rover would be, so an astronaut could climb into its seats. But our rover space was full of tools and replacement parts for the telescope- it was the heaviest part of the craft.
The lander itself would stand at 15 feet, from the very bottom floor to the top once it disconnected from Arlo's module- which may seem like a lot of room but between a whole floor of supplies underneath where we sat and the huge clunky suits we wore, it was actually quite uncomfortable. Just barely not big enough for us to have our own space. However, it wasn't meant to have three astro-canines in it at once.
Arlo had plenty of time to work, hopping between Weston and I to make sure we were strapped in.
He had us snugly situated in our chairs within 25 minutes. Since my range of motion in the EVA suits was the worst so far, I legitimately felt as though I were wrapped in a mattress. Although it wasn't smothering me, I couldn't imagine I'd be much help if Arlo needed me.
By the time we'd hit our last orbit, Arlo had already safely transferred our cold storage into the lander.
"Houston, with all due respect, I think you made these seats way too freakin' small", Arlo said as he propped me up in my seat so I could reach the controls for the fourth time. We were behind the moon at that point so he couldn't be heard, and he knew it.
"It's the seat, right? They were so concerned about the suits fitting us 'just-perfect' that they forgot about everything else. Shrinking down the dimensions of the seat to fit a smaller human doesn't change the fact that we're dogs", Weston said, a very fed-up tone in his voice.
Sitting on all fours, I was strapped to the back where a human astronaut's back was supposed to go- my paws resting on the seat. If they'd completely redesigned it to be more like a dog's bed it probably could have made the separation process rather enjoyable. Instead, we were starting to stress again.
It made sense why it wasn't going to fit exactly right. NASA had made it work, but they had clearly prioritized some aspects over others.
"Weston, I don't think I'm going to be able to keep myself up the whole way down", I admitted.
"Rocky, can you see that gauge I told you about? Third from the left", Weston asked.
"Yes, I can see it", I said.
"Well, maybe we can put a pillow under him or something?", Arlo suggested.
In a flash, I had an idea. "That safety strap", I said, "The extra one- Arlo, can you attach it to the hook underneath the seat.
Sure enough, he unlatched one of the straps around my waist and hooked it underneath my seat.
It was drawn tight enough that I could pull my body weight up as if it were a solid, metal bar.
"Well, 'problem solved' except now you're less safe.", Arlo said, "I don't love that."
"I know, neither do I", I replied, "But I doubt we'll need it anyway."
"Well, if you're alright with it- we'll go down the last-minute checklist, I won't tell Houston about your 'heroics' just yet", Arlo joked.
Arlo gave us the second camera, which hadn't been used yet, and placed it in storage near Weston. Then, we started the comm-checks with Houston- The Orange team roared back to life.
"Rocky, how are you feeling- over?", a new voice asked in my left ear.
It wasn't uncomfortable, per se- but the walls of the spacecraft seemed to creep in and darken at the same time.
"Ready to feel some ground underneath me- but still smiling", I said.
"The folks back home will be happy to hear that. We're running a last-minute check, standby."
The majority of the talking thereafter went between Arlo and Weston.
All Houston had to do was ensure that a secure communication link could be established between the two modules after they split and that the two could also hear Mission Control independently.
Arlo descended back from the command module seat- ready to bid us farewell for as long as fixing Origenes would take.
Yes, it was time for goodbyes. And, to my surprise, I was sadder to leave him than I'd prepared to be. I wanted to hug him, but I couldn't.
Arlo spoke to us, "Well, that's about it. Time for us to do what we came to do! You've got this you two."
Weston nodded.
"Thank you, Arlo. Take care of yourself, we shouldn't be too long….", I said.
"You take as much time as you'll need. Don't you concern yourself about me too much. And don't hesitate to call- I'll be around", he said a bit jokingly- but then he added, "Rocky, Take care of Weston."
"I will. I promise", I said.
Then he went to Weston's corner. "Weston, take care of Rocky", he said, "Please."
Weston agreed. "We'll be seeing you soon, Mr. Commander. Stay strong until then."
"No doubt! You'll probably be sick of me yappin' in your ears before long. Until we meet again-in person!", Arlo said.
Arlo gave something to Weston and then shook his paw. He came back to my corner and did the same. Before he left, he clipped a felt-tip pen to my toolkit belt; a callback to what Michael Collins did for Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin that ended up saving their mission. Who knows if we'd need it, but I appreciated the gesture.
Arlo then triple-checked our full storage transfer (everything we'd need), informed Houston that the pressures looked good enough to start separation procedure, received confirmation, disappeared above us, and closed the hatch behind him.
So, it was just Weston and me. Our new normal.
Weston was busy at his control panel, flipping switches and telling the Orange team every detail of what he saw.
About twenty minutes later the lander started to hum, as if the engine were finally warm. It was a different sensation than any beforehand- almost as if our module was a drum that had been struck and we were experiencing the steady tone thereafter. Not a violent shake, but a low reverberation.
Arlo came over the radio, "Alright Lander crew, we are 'Go!' for module separation."
"Copy that, we'll see you later", Weston said.
Mission Control: "Double vacuum seal now operating at 10% capacity- please confirm."
Arlo: "Copy that, 10% confirmed."
Mission Control: "Roger, Separation in T-minus 60"
"40-30-20-10-Go for module separation"
A massive thud sounded over our head as Germania let us go. It was hard to feel in the lack of gravity, but I could see the back half jarringly drifting away from us at a faster speed than I was ready for.
My sudden terror was two-fold; Not only did the shift in perspective make me realize that we were flying sideways at that point rather than upright, but our sanctuary had literally dropped us off- I felt the cold immediately.
Arlo wasted no time in referring to us by our new codename, "Alright Chapel, you're in good shape there. Standby for check."
Chapel's ascent/descent thrusters were located around the perimeter of the module's bottom half, as opposed to the larger, main thruster that sat at the module's center- responsible for the respective burns that both shot us out of Earth's orbit and helped us merge into lunar orbit.
Our parking orbit was "circularized" at 66 nautical miles (122 km; 76 mi) by 54 nautical miles (100 km; 62 mi).
Weston and I waved goodbye to Arlo until the little window was too far away to see if he was still waving back. I took a deep breath, unprepared for how distinct the change would be. I already hated being separated.
Weston must have noticed, because he actually addressed me- mid-milestone and everything.
"Rocky, do you remember what I said earlier about you and your friends- the little rescue group- and the way you seem to fall in line very easily?", he asked.
"Yeah...", I said, unsure where he was going with his question.
"For the sake of our success, please don't do anything 'heroic', alright?", Weston said.
"If you think I can't fix it, I wish you would just come out and be honest", I said less out of offense, but more matter-of-factly.
He replied, "I'm not saying that, but I'm not going to baby you like Arlo would if he were here. I know you're excited- even if you're trying to hide it. Just please don't try anything too reckless out there. I really don't want to have to drag your lifeless body back into the module because you brushed up against something sharp and didn't realize it."
I was unsure if he meant these observations in good faith, but I couldn't deny that he was right. I was excited, beyond so. And I knew just how dangerous the next portion of the mission would be, for us two especially.
Plus, it proved that Weston had both honored his promise to view me as an equal and that he did, sort-of, understand where I was coming from. But I couldn't help but feel like the old Weston was back- the one who only addressed me when he actually had to.
"Don't worry about me, I won't", I assured.
Gleefully marching to my death like a "Good boy" was not in the plan.
I wanted to demand he make me a promise that he would do the same, but I really didn't want the timeframe where Weston and I would be trapped in an enclosed space with each other to start that way.
The next two checks would involve Arlo inspecting our craft from his overhead view and deeming it fit to attempt a landing.
Weston resumed the Gimble check- making sure the four landing thrusters could manage slight tilts in different directions. While their span was limited, it beat the fixed ascent engine of the past that couldn't move at all and made for a very uncomfortable ride.
"You can tell Arlo that the check is done", Weston prompted me.
"Alright, Gimble checks complete on our end, how does it look on yours?", I asked.
"Looks good!", Arlo confirmed to us, being able to see from his orbit slightly above us.
Despite the fact that the lander- when full of fuel- would weigh 47,000lbs (21318.841 Kg) on Earth at launch-time, its turns were near effortless.
Weston controlled while I sat looking out the window at the two mirrors pointed down towards the lander's legs. There was a small light on the top half of the mirror that would blink orange. It would blink more rapidly the closer we'd get to the moon and would be a solid light by the time we touched down.
Weston's only direction for me was to watch them and tell him if it ever changed colors. I was also in charge of a gauge on the panel in front of me, which would lock onto the moon and tell us how far we were from the surface. Thank God I could multitask.
I hadn't been trained to co-pilot with Weston, but I knew how to engage auto-pilot as well as fire the engines. By that point, we'd drifted underneath the command module- completely untethered.
Weston didn't need my help at all, as he put us in a 'rotisserie spin' to ensure Arlo could confirm that our landing gear was in the right position. Despite its slightly wider shape and robust frame, it maneuvered like butter.
"Looks ready to roll, Chapel. Godspeed", Arlo confirmed and wished us luck.
"Thanks Germania, putting in work T-minus 190 for descent burn ready procedure", Weston replied.
"Copying T-190", came the reply from the Orange Team.
190 seconds. It wouldn't be long before we'd drop to the moon- pressing through its best attempts to keep us in its jagged, mulchy orbit.
I took another deep breath, eager to feel some ground underneath me- even if it wasn't Earth's ground. 190 seconds came and went.
"Engines are hot, awaiting 'Go/No-Go' call for descent- burn in T-minus 60", Weston stated.
"You are a go at T-minus 60- wait for call-over", came the reply.
"CDR?"
"Go", Arlo said.
"BOOSTER?"
"Go-"
"FIDO?"
"Go-"
"GUIDANCE?"
"Go."
"CONTROL?"
"Go."
"CAPCOM?"
"Go-"
"GNC?"
"Go."
"EECOM?"
"Go ahead."
"SURGEON?"
"Go-"
"Chapel, you are 'Go' for powered descent burn- you can start the clock at T-60!"
"Copy!", Weston replied assuredly.
Chapel's computer, having corrected its attitude, righted us so that the moon was directly below the lander's bottom. The rays of the sun glinted off of the metallic frame like a massive chandelier.
50
40
30
20
10
"5,4,3,2,1. Ignition. Ten per cent."
Weston confirmed that our engine was only putting out 10 percent of its maximum power.
The second we started moving I had to cling onto the safety strap. It felt so unnatural; becoming clearer by the second that I had no clue how the descent would play out at all. Not nearly as gentle as the simulators made it seem, it was meant to slow Chapel down in preparation for our landing. The Guidance computer began calculating optimum braking phase protocols.
The engines propelled us downward at an angle, not nearly the elevator-like drop I expected.
If you've ever been on a plane making a steep turn, you have an idea of what I mean.
I briefly caught a glimpse of the Command Module out of the window furthest from my seat- so far away that I could only make it out by the sun's reflection off of the windows.
Mission Control: "You're looking good on our end."
Weston: "Copy, how's our zone approach looking, Arlo?"
Arlo: "You're shooting short of landing coordinate zone 1, but not 2. Triangle is looking good."
The Command module's systems made a triangulation between it, Chapel, and our planned landing zone.
Weston: "Trying correction, initiating 20% engine output."
Mission Control: "Copy."
Minute by minute, our descent continued. The closer we got to the moon, of course, the more it felt like we were falling.
Arlo: "Confirming engine fire increase. *static*"
Weston: "Say again, Germania?"
Arlo: "Your corrective measure is looking good."
Mission Control: "OK, rate of descent looks great."
Arlo: "Your signal's starting to sound a bit fuzzy, you're going to need to lean on Houston for now."
Mission Control: "Chapel, Houston. *static* Everything's looking good here. Over."
Weston: Roger. "Copy. Rocky, how are we looking over there?"
Me: "Everything looks good, no color change on the mirror lights- gauge has us at a steady rate- 9 minutes to zero."
Weston: "Good."
Arlo: "AGS and PGNS are slightly off."
Mission Control: "How far?"
Arlo: "About nine degrees different."
Arlo was comparing the measurements from the main guidance system PGNS (Primary Guidance and Navigation System) and the back-up system AGS (Abort Guidance System).
Mission Control: "Orange team to Chapel, how would you like to proceed- over?"
Arlo: "Houston, I'm getting a little fluctuation in the AC voltage now."
Mission Control: "Roger- stand by. **static** Looking good to us. You're still looking good at five… coming up five minutes."
Arlo: "Rate of descent looks fine. The altitude's right about on for zone 2."
Weston: "I'm still taking my best shot at a correction here for Zone 1"
Mission Control: "Our position checks down range show us to be a little long."
Weston: "Long, are you sure?"
Mission Control: "Yes, could be a discrepancy on Germania's end."
Arlo: "Still showing short on my side. Now were up to 12 feet per second greater rate of descent than the PGNS. *static*"
Mission Control: *static* Altitude rate looks nominal.
Weston: "Our side says about three seconds long. I'm gonna try a quick rotisserie spin."
Weston was paying close attention to mark the time we had before hitting the moon.
He could tell we were off by some degree by comparing his clock to when certain landmarks passed by his windows, almost as if he'd memorized every crater on the moon.
I was having much more trouble discerning exactly what was underneath us until Weston pulled his most daring maneuver yet.
We turned once again, this time nearly a full 360 degrees.
"Headlong", I guess you could call it, we were facing away from the telescope. As we turned, I caught sight of Mons Huygens- the moon's tallest mountain. I knew where we were, but I also knew that we were pushing our luck. In addition to time and decreasing altitude, our systems were stressed to the point where I started getting static from Westons radio.
A row of lights on my side glowed yellow.
Weston: "Copy *static*, I'm Rolling her over."
He turned Chapel again, pointing the lander's legs down at the surface. The landing radar, fixed at the bottom of the lunar module told us just how high and how fast we were travelling.
Me: "Site looks clear."
Weston: "Alright, Houston, the ED Batts are primed and ready. (ED Batts are 'explosive device batteries', which supply power to the devices that help operate the descent engines.)
Mission Control: "Roger. You are - *static* You are Go to continue powered descent."
Weston: "OK, we've got good lock on."
Me: "Landing radar is locked on, Zone 1."
Weston: "Got the Earth straight out our front window."
Mission Control: "Clock is showing two minutes till touchdown- go for engine throttle down."
Weston: "750 [feet]. Coming down at 29 [feet per second]."
….
Weston: "600 feet, down at 19 [feet per second]."
..…..
"500"
….
…
"400"
"300 feet up."
Since I'd flown 300 feet above the ground on multiple occasions on Earth, that milestone put exactly how close to the moon we were in context.
At that point, I could tell that we were shooting at a steep angle, but massive rocks were all over what we labeled as zone 1. Some, almost resembling steeples themselves, were so large that I feared we'd have to abort before one tore a window off of Chapel.
We had to be the first to execute a burn so close to the moon, at least on landing, I thought.
Rather than being terrified, I was actually excited at the prospect. In fact, my poor tail began to wag in what little space it had while pressed to my seat.
Me: "You seeing that?"
Weston: "Not looking good on Zone 1, Houston- we're looking at a massive rock-field, let's try Zone 2 again. Our sensors are gonna start freaking out, don't worry about it."
Weston: "Firing in 10 Houston."
Mission Control: "Copy, I'd do it now if I were you."
Weston: "Corrective burn, engaged."
Our engines fired for about seven seconds.
Sure enough, multiple lights on my side of the module began to turn red and I even heard a sound in my own helmet meant to notify us if anything went wrong with the pressure inside of the lander while we were outside of it.
Mission Control: "New attitude looks good, we've got you on a counter-clockwise tilt towards 2."
Weston: "I see the shadow out there. That's it, I've got nothing but clear ground below us now. 200 feet."
Mission Control: "Copy."
Weston: "130 feet, down 3.5 feet. Altitude, velocity lights are on."
Me: "Lights are blinking white- now solid."
Mission Control: "Easy does it, looking good."
Weston: "40 feet. 3.5 down. 9 forward. Quantity light's on yellow. Almost there, back to 10% engine fire."
Mission Control: "Drifting forward just a little bit."
Me: "Contact light."
A sensor hanging from the bottom hit the ashy surface, setting off a green overhead light inside the module.
3 feet, 2, 1.
Chapel's legs touched the moon for the first time, accompanied by the same sensation of an elevator reaching the ground floor.
"Engine light's off, Engine fire at zero. We're on-surface", Weston said before he let his head rest on the back of his seat.
It took 12 minutes in total to reach the ground.
I laughed, not at anything, just in pure joy from the moment.
Holy smokes! I'm actually on the moon, I thought in disbelief.
" 'Imbrium Base' here, we're on the ground. New home sweet home….", Weston reported. You could hear just how draining it had been in his voice. But he was proud.
"We copy you on the ground I.B. (Imbrium Base), Congratulations on a successful landing!", said Mission Control.
I'm sure plenty of people all over the world had watched and were just as elated.
A sigh escaped both Weston and I at the same time, though we couldn't hear one another- I could just tell; the kind of sigh that means you're exhausted but you have no choice but to press on.
The green light illuminating the space cut off, our surprisingly still well-lit landing craft became another 'home' in an instant.
I thought to myself, I hope the others are watching.
It was my turn to shine. Arlo had done his job, Weston had done his, the eyes of the world were due to fall on me.
***End of Ch. 32***