“We have solid rocket booster separation.”
Director Nasuda made a slight nod.
From here on out, it was up to the main booster. Everything was riding on Motoko Mihara’s new fuel. If the fuel didn’t burn exactly as planned, the thin duralumin casing enclosing the combustion chamber would be ripped to shreds.
“Come on,” Director Nasuda muttered under his breath. The knuckles of his clenched fists were bright white.
Yukari stared intently at the image on the screen.
The LS-5A mounted with Yukari’s capsule, Tampopo, stood on the adjacent launchpad undergoing final preparations for launch. If all went well with Pathfinder, the test rocket, it would be Yukari’s turn tomorrow.
Since liftoff, 310 seconds had elapsed.
“Main booster burn complete. We have second-stage separation. Kick motor ignition successful. All systems nominal.”
The crowd breathed a collective sigh of relief that gave way to a smattering of applause.
“Don’t count our chickens yet,” grumbled Director Nasuda. “Save the applause until we hear from Christmas Island.”
A rocket’s success depended on a series of steps. A successful main booster burn was a milestone, but the mission couldn’t be classified a success until the unmanned capsule reached orbit.
Eleven minutes later, a call came in from the tracking station on Christmas Island, over 4,800 kilometers away. Kinoshita listened to their report, then returned the phone to its cradle. “Christmas Island has acquired Pathfinder,” he said, his voice calm. “Orbital inclination eight degrees, altitude 210 kilometers, speed 7.7 kilometers per second.” A smile split his face.
Pent-up joy erupted in rapturous shouts and applause. The controllers hefted Motoko and Mukai into the air.
Director Nasuda beamed triumphantly and thrust out a sweaty palm toward Yukari. “Congratulations. You’re up next.”
Reluctantly Yukari took his hand. “Thanks,” she said. Her palm was sweaty too.
[ACT 2]
ALTHOUGH YUKARI WAS done training, her last day was packed with press conferences, health tests, and meetings to review the flight plan. It all went by in a blur.
Yukari’s mind felt numb, as though it were floating outside her body and watching everything from afar. She remained calm and collected through it all, more so than even she would have expected. It reminded her of the night before her high school entrance exams. She had prepared as best she could; now all that was left to do was to wait and see what hand fate dealt her.
“I thought I’d be more nervous,” said Yukari.
She turned off the lights and drew back the curtains. The shadowy outline of the training facility and the command center framed a silvery path that led toward the ocean. The launchpad loomed in the distance. Spotlights illuminated the maintenance tower from all sides, limning it in white. The lights of an elevator flickered as it rose and fell through the iron skeleton of the tower.
“I may be the only one getting any sleep tonight.” Yukari sighed.
In a room beneath the launchpad, Satsuki was giving Mukai an IV drip. He hadn’t slept in three days.
“Isn’t there a shot that will make me feel like I just woke up from a nice, long nap?” asked Mukai.
“Afraid not.”
Mukai stared up at Satsuki from a folding cot. “What’s in that thing anyway?”
“Solita-t No. 3 with a vitamin B and C chaser.”
“I don’t need vitamins, I need something to wake me up.”
“I have just the thing, but you’re not going to get any from me,” said Satsuki in a tone that brooked no argument. “What you need is rest, and that’s not something I can give you. Vitamins are the best I can do.”
“I just have to make it until morning. It all comes down to today.”
“The best thing you can do right now is sleep. The IV will take two hours anyway. Now get some shut-eye!”
[ACT 3]
SATSUKI GAVE YUKARI a wake-up call at three o’clock in the morning. Outside it was still dark.
Yukari and Matsuri went to the cafeteria together for a breakfast of coconut milk, eggs, and toast. Then it was off to the clinic, where Satsuki took their temperatures, blood pressures, heart rates, and urine samples. Satsuki noted the readings in her medical log and ushered the girls to the director’s office.
Director Nasuda greeted them with bloodshot eyes—he hadn’t been to bed either—and looked over the medical log. Satisfied, he stood and strode over to Yukari and Matsuri.
“Yukari, you are officially the commander of the Solomon Space Association’s first manned mission.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Matsuri, you are our official backup. You will provide ground support from the control room.”
“Hoi.”
Director Nasuda looked from one girl to the other. “We’re counting on you.”
Matsuri headed to the control room, and Yukari made her way to the crew waiting room.
Yukari’s preparations began with an enema administered by Satsuki, after which she put on her space suit, tied back her hair, and fastened on her helmet. Two technicians accompanied her to a small vacuum chamber the size of a phone booth to test the airtight seals of the suit. Next they checked the sensors that monitored her temperature, blood pressure, and heart rate. The skinsuit checked out.
By the time the checks were complete, it was five o’clock in the morning. Holding her helmet under one arm, Yukari made her way to the entrance of the training facility. Satsuki led the way, and Yukari was flanked on either side by security personnel. Outside, a security Humvee waited to take her to the launchpad. Throngs of reporters lined the short path to the vehicle.
A barrage of strobe flashes greeted Yukari as she stepped out of the building.
“There she is!” cried one of the television reporters enthusiastically. “Yukari has just exited the training facility wearing a white space suit. She’s coming this way!”
“Hold that pose,” called another reporter. Yukari stopped in front of the car. “What’s going through your mind right now?” he asked.
“I just want to go out there and give it my best.”
“Did you get any sleep last night?”
“Plenty.”
“Anything you’d like to tell your parents?”
Yukari ignored the question and stepped into the Humvee.
As the door closed, the reporter addressed the camera. “Yukari is looking a little nervous this morning.”
The Humvee pulled away. Satsuki shook her head. “That gets old fast.”
“Uh-huh.”
The car sped past the VAB and followed the rails that carried the mobile launchpad to the launch site. The eastern sky was tinged a deep crimson.
A few minutes later, they were at the launchpad. The rocket still basked in the glow of the floodlights, but even so it was a dark shape against the gathering morning light. Liquid oxygen steamed from the middle of the rocket. There were no reporters in sight.
Yukari stepped out of the car and climbed a long concrete ramp. The engineering team was gathered at the top. She could see their red eyes in the reflected glare of the floodlights.
“Your chariot awaits,” said Mukai. “She’s ready to fly. You don’t have to worry about a thing.” He was clearly tired, but he forced a broad smile.
Yukari appreciated the gesture. “Thanks,” she said, grasping his hand.
Mukai blushed. “Heh, I’ll never wash this hand again.”
“It’s saying things like that that makes it so hard for you engineers to get a date.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”
Chuckles rippled through the small crowd.
Yukari shook hands with each member of the team in turn, and then she and Satsuki stepped onto the launchpad elevator.
Twenty meters above the ground, Satsuki began her final pre-flight examination of Yukari. “How do you feel?” she asked.
“Never better. And don’t forget
your promise.”
“What promise?”
“To keep the in-flight medical feed private.”
“Oh, right. Not to worry.”
“Well, see you when I’m back.”
“Good luck.”
Yukari walked alone down the access arm that led to the capsule. A technician opened the hatch as she approached.
“Morning,” said Yukari.
“The weather reports look good,” replied the technician.
“Fingers crossed.”
“Here we go.” The technician stood behind Yukari and lifted her by the armpits. Yukari slid feetfirst into the capsule.
The front of the capsule faced skyward, so Yukari was seated lying on her back. The seat itself had been built to fit her body perfectly from head to toe. A harness attached to her suit via cables at the shoulder, chest, sides, and knees held her firmly in place. Only her head and arms remained free.
After checking the positions of the switches that controlled the potentially dangerous pyrotechnic systems, Yukari switched on the master power.
Ventilation, on. Cabin lights, on.
“Ready to seal the hatch?” asked the technician.
“Go ahead.”
Ten centimeters above her head, the hatch closed. Yukari reached up and rotated a handle to lock it in place. There was a small porthole in the hatch—the only window on the entire spacecraft. Outside, Yukari could see part of the launchpad, the face of the technician, and sky.
Yukari gave a thumbs-up sign to the technician, who then disappeared from view.
Yukari was finally alone. She breathed a sigh of relief and looked around the inside of the capsule. It was tight—less a spacecraft than an extension of her suit. There was an instrument panel forty centimeters from her face and beside it a small view screen. To her right was a fuse panel with rows of switches, and to her left was an assortment of manual valves. The attitude control stick was positioned at the end of her right armrest, and the emergency abort handle at the end of the left.
There was barely enough room inside the capsule to blow up a large beach ball. A full-grown man would have trouble just making it through the hatch.
Yukari had spent dozens of hours inside this capsule. She could find each and every switch with her eyes closed.
She flipped on the comm switch. “Mission control, Tampopo.”
“Hoi. We hear you loud and clear.” Matsuri’s voice bubbled through the speakers.
“Roger that, mission control. The ship’s chronometer reads five twenty-seven and twenty seconds.”
“Roger, your time checks out. Ready to begin your pre-launch check?”
“Affirmative.”
“Pyrotechnic safety switch?”
“Locked.”
“Attitude control stick?”
“Locked.”
“Emergency abort handle?
“Locked.”
As Yukari and Matsuri worked their way through the checklist, the technicians were making their final inspection of the booster. If there were no problems, the rocket would lift off at precisely eight o’clock.
At 6:38 AM, Yukari and Matsuri had just finished going through the fifty-page checklist.
“How’s the countdown going?” asked Yukari. “Any problems?”
“Actually they just stopped it.”
“What’s wrong?”
“One of the gyroscopes lit up red. There doesn’t seem to be a problem with the unit, so they think it’s a sensor malfunction. We’re probably looking at a thirty-minute delay.”
“Roger that. Keep me posted.”
“Hoi.”
Problems like this happen all the time, thought Yukari. Pathfinder was delayed two hours before it finally launched too.
As she waited for the countdown to resume, Yukari went over the rest of the flight procedure.
Fully prepared for launch, the rocket stood twenty-one meters tall. The capsule containing Yukari was sixteen meters above the ground. The launch escape rockets were above the capsule, and below stretched the main booster, with two smaller solid rocket boosters attached to either side. All three would ignite to begin liftoff. The rocket would then slowly pick up speed as it rose and flew to the east.
For now, Yukari was responsible for making periodic reports to mission control and operating the emergency escape controls should the need arise. If it did, she would release the safety with her left hand and pull the escape lever. The first pull would separate the capsule from the main booster, the second would fire the launch escape rockets, propelling the capsule away from the launchpad. Then she would manually deploy the parachutes.
All the other controls were handled either by the onboard computer or remotely from mission control. The astronaut had no control over the firing of the boosters. Even if she wanted to, the G load during launch would be so high it would be hard to even reach the control panel.
The rocket would reach “max Q” roughly forty seconds after launch. Max Q was the point at which a rocket came under maximum aerodynamic stress. In Yukari’s case, this would occur at an altitude of approximately ten thousand meters, with the rocket traveling faster than the speed of sound.
Two minutes ten seconds into the flight, the solid rocket boosters would separate. The main booster would continue its burn, and since the rocket would be considerably lighter without the weight of the two SRBs, the g-forces would climb as it accelerated.
At this point, the launch escape rockets were no longer needed, so they would be jettisoned as well. As the rocket grew lighter, it would achieve its maximum acceleration of 9 G. This was fully three times as high as the forces experienced by the space shuttle, but Yukari’s time in the centrifuge had prepared her for it.
After six minutes eleven seconds, the main booster burn would be complete. The capsule would separate from the booster’s empty husk and begin free flight at an altitude of 185 kilometers, traveling at 7.58 kilometers per second—orbital velocity.
The orbital thrusters at the rear of the capsule would then propel it into a circular orbit at an altitude of 210 kilometers. Forty-five minutes later the thrusters would briefly fire once more. All the while the spacecraft would be feeding telemetry to mission control, supplemented by Yukari’s own observations.
The capsule would orbit the earth four times in the span of six hours. Halfway through its final orbit, the thrusters would fire a retrograde burn to break orbit. Slowly, the capsule would begin to descend, and at an altitude of approximately 130 kilometers, it would reenter the atmosphere.
During reentry, communications with the ground would be temporarily cut off. The onboard computer controlled the timing of the retrograde burn, the angle of reentry, and the attitude of the ship, but if there were a malfunction, Yukari would need to perform these manually.
When the capsule dropped below the speed of sound, the parachutes would open. The capsule would splash down at thirty-six kilometers per hour, and floats would deploy to keep the capsule above water.
The landing zone was a patch of ocean five hundred miles north of Maltide. There would be recovery helicopters and ships there waiting, but if the capsule came down off target, it could take time for them to reach the capsule. The capsule would be drifting during the search, making it difficult to find.
Yukari would be flying a nearly perfect equatorial orbit, so there was little danger of her landing somewhere she would freeze to death, barring the unlikely event of her landing on Mount Kilimanjaro or the mountains of New Guinea.
Yukari shook the thought from her head.
Don’t even think about it. Everything will be fine.
She looked at her watch. It was already seven thirty. She flicked on the comm switch. “Mission control, Tampopo. Any update on our schedule?”
“We should have something for you soon, Yukari.”
“Is it serious?”
“The gyroscope seems fine. They’re telling me there’s a problem with the sensor’s data correction.”
�
��We still looking at a thirty-minute delay?”
“For now.”
“Roger that.”
At 8:00 AM, Yukari had been in the capsule for two and a half hours.
“Mission control, Tampopo. How’s it looking?”
“They’re discussing options now. Hang on a sec.” Two minutes passed. “Turn off main power and leave the capsule, Yukari.”
“What?”
“They’re delaying the launch until tomorrow.”
“Uh, roger that.”
When Yukari stepped out of the car in front of the command center, the press was waiting.
“How do you feel, Yukari?” asked a reporter.
“This sort of thing happens,” said Yukari, her voice calm.
“Has the delay shaken your faith in the rocket?”
“Not at all. It just shows how thoroughly they’re checking things.”
[ACT 4]
IT WAS 7:20 AM the following morning.
A heavy metallic thud reverberated through the rocket. Yukari nodded to herself.
“Mission control, Tampopo. We have successful gantry separation.”
“Hoi. Separation successful. We’ll be performing final LOX pressurization in a moment.”
“Roger that. Good luck.”
Yukari watched the clock on the control panel as she listened for the sound of the pressurization equipment outside the rocket. Forty minutes to go. Once the flight started, it would all be over in six hours—not much longer than it would take her to fly back to Japan. Yukari would have plenty to brag about when she got back; she would have literally traveled the four corners of the globe.
That she had stumbled into being an astronaut did bother her, however. Would she continue the lies she had told the media? Not that there wasn’t some truth to it—who hadn’t thought about flying on a space shuttle at least once when they were a kid?
Yukari glanced at the control panel. It was an ugly thing— whoever designed it hadn’t put much effort into the aesthetics. But if it got her back in one piece, she was willing to forgive it its flaws.
Rocket Girls Page 12
