In a few years, maybe she would even come back to visit the islands, slip into the capsule, and wax nostalgic about all she had gone through in it—if she even still fit inside, which was doubtful.
Yukari couldn’t control her height, but she was determined to not put on any weight. They had promised to let her keep her suit after the mission, but if she put on even a couple of kilograms, it would no longer fit. Not that she had any intention of wearing it in public.
But what if they made her go on television in the suit? Yukari didn’t care for that idea at all. She could stand going to elementary schools, giving speeches about how beautiful the earth is, and being swarmed by little kids just as Mamoru Mohri, the first Japanese astronaut, had been. Yukari wondered what the earth would look like from space. Was it really that beautiful? They said going into space changed your perspective on life forever. In one hour, Yukari would see for herself.
She was starting to get excited. This was really happening. Yukari gave a shout of joy.
Matsuri came over the speakers. “Hoi. We’ve hit a little problem, Yukari.”
Yukari came crashing back to reality. “What is it?”
“It looks like a liquid oxygen leak. One of the two sensors is showing a problem. They don’t think it’s anything serious, but they want you to power down the capsule and get out.”
“Hang on. If it’s not serious, why can’t I just wait it out in here?”
“Director Nasuda wants to play it safe, just in case. Come on down.”
“If I leave now, they’ll have to restart the countdown, we’ll miss the launch window, and the whole thing will be delayed. Again.”
“The delay is already official. The fun will have to wait for tomorrow.”
Yukari started to object, but she knew it was pointless.
“Roger that.”
With her helmet tucked under one arm, Yukari stepped out of the elevator and walked down the ramp at the base of the launchpad. She stepped into the waiting Humvee and rode to the command center in silence. When they arrived, reporters thronged around her as she stepped out of the car.
“How does it feel to have your launch delayed again?” asked one of the journalists.
“I’m used to it,” said Yukari, her irritation thinly veiled.
“The rocket seems to be having one problem after another. Has this shaken your faith in the safety of your launch?”
“Not at all.”
“Some people are saying that safety has been sacrificed for the sake of weight and cost.”
“No comment.”
“Don’t you find it troubling that the test launch went so smoothly, while your own rocket has been plagued with problems?”
Yukari glared at the reporter. “If there’s something you want to say, say it.”
“I’m just—that is, I was only asking.”
“Then why don’t you try ‘asking’ Chief Engineer Mukai?” Yukari turned and strode into the command center.
[ACT 5]
“PACING BACK AND forth like that is only going to make you hungry,” said Matsuri, peering down from the top bunk. “You should try and get some sleep. Tomorrow’s a big day.”
“Is it?” Yukari shot back. “You know the launch will just be delayed again.”
“Getting upset about it will stir up angry spirits, Yukari. Maybe I should use some magic to ward them off and get some good spirits to protect you.”
“I don’t need any more magic.”
“I won’t charge you or anything.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.” Yukari stopped pacing and leaned against the wall. “I don’t want some creepy meddling spirits watching over me. I made it through my high school exams on my own. I can make it through this.”
“Hoi. Whatever you say, Yukari.” Matsuri was relieved to see Yukari still had some fight in her. “You don’t have to sleep if you don’t want to, but can we turn out the lights and go to bed?”
“Okay.”
As Yukari was busy not falling asleep, Mukai was in a room beneath the launchpad pulling his fifth consecutive all-nighter.
“Come on, Satsuki, I’m desperate,” pleaded Mukai.
“Absolutely not. A stimulant will only make you more tired later.”
“I just have to make it till morning. This is it, I can feel it.”
“And what if there’s another delay?”
“That’s why I need to stay awake—to make sure there isn’t.”
“Sorry. You’ll have to make do with the IV.”
“I don’t have two hours to sit through an IV.”
Satsuki looked at Mukai. His ashen features spoke of utter exhaustion. “Fine,” she said, sighing. “Sit down.”
“You’re a lifesaver.”
Satsuki took a syringe from her breast pocket and jabbed Mukai in the arm with five milligrams of Dormicum.
“That should help you relax.”
“Huh? Relax? I don’t have time to…relax…” Mukai’s chin came to rest on his chest.
“Everyone knows their job. They’ll do just fine without you,” said Satsuki. Mukai was already sound asleep. “It’s a shame you’ll have to miss the launch.”
[ACT 6]
DECEMBER 29, 8:50 AM
YUKARI HAD ALREADY been in the capsule for three hours and twenty minutes, and the countdown was still on hold.
“I think I deserve an explanation. ‘We have doubts about the gyroscopes’ isn’t going to cut it,” said Yukari.
“Just try and hang in there a little longer.”
“I want explanations, not platitudes. Put Mukai on.”
“Mukai’s sleeping, but Director Nasuda is here. Hang on a sec.”
“We’ve been analyzing the telemetry from Pathfinder, and we found some unexpected vibrations during launch,” said Director Nasuda. “We don’t think it’s coming from an external source—it could be the booster itself.”
“It didn’t seem to have any trouble getting into orbit.”
“That could have been sheer luck. This is a critical component we’re dealing with here. With Mukai out of commission, I’d rather err on the side of caution.”
“If we let every little thing scare us, we’ll never launch.”
“We still have two days before the deadline. There’s no rush.”
“What about what this is putting me through? I can let two scrubbed launches slide, but three? Forget it!”
“You were the one clamoring for us not to cut corners. This isn’t the time to throw caution to the wind.”
“If something goes wrong, I can always fire the escape rockets.”
“The rocket could break up before you have time to react. No, we’ve done all we can today. Come on down.”
Yukari didn’t answer.
“Do you read me, Yukari?”
“I’m not leaving this capsule.” Her voice was a low growl.
“That’s an order, Yukari.”
“If you want me down, I’m bringing the capsule with me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll fire the emergency escape rockets. I may not have control over the boosters, but from the capsule up, this is my ship.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“Do you hear me laughing?” Yukari’s voice was ice. “You can’t call someone the pilot and then ignore them when it comes time to fly. And what good is a rocket you can’t fly when you want to? Restart the countdown. Now.”
Yukari knew how to hit Nasuda where it hurt.
“Let me think it over.”
“You’ve got one minute. If the countdown isn’t started by then, the capsule and I are both coming down.”
“Understood.”
Fifty-six seconds later, Matsuri’s voice came through the speakers. “Hoi, Yukari. They’ve given us the go sign. The countdown will resume at T-minus five minutes.”
“Now we’re talkin’!”
At once, signs of life returned to the launchpad. A mechanical symphony of sounds reverberated in
the cockpit.
“Flight control data check,” said Matsuri.
“Control data nominal.”
“Chronometer check.”
“Chronometer is running.”
“Set APU standby switch to on.”
“APU standby on.”
T-minus three minutes.
“Access arm retracted. Commencing SSWS flood procedure. Increase comm volume by two.”
“Comm volume plus two,” confirmed Yukari.
T-minus two minutes.
“Liquid oxygen release valves sealed. LOX at launch pressure.”
“All capsule systems nominal.”
T-minus one minute.
“Switching to internal power.”
“Internal power nominal.”
T-minus twenty seconds.
“Main booster APU start,” said Matsuri.
“APU start confirmed. I can hear it.”
T-minus fourteen seconds.
“Last chance to cancel, Yukari.”
“Do it and die.”
“Hoi. T-minus ten…nine…eight…seven. Main booster ignition. Four…three…two…one. SRB ignition.”
The mission event timer went positive. The rocket shuddered as it lurched skyward.
“We have liftoff. Tampopo has cleared the launch tower.”
Yukari felt as though she were sitting in a swing. There were hardly any g-forces.
“Vibration minimal,” reported Yukari. “It’s a smooth launch.”
On the screen in the control room, the rocket rose into the sky atop a brilliant pillar of light. A ripple of applause erupted as Yukari’s voice echoed through the room, but it soon died down. They had only passed the first step.
“Roll complete. We’re on course,” said Kinoshita, reading through the flight procedure. “Matsuri, inform Yukari she’s about to enter max Q.”
“Hoi. Yukari, prepare for max Q.”
“Roger. I’m at 3.6 G now. The vibration is ramping up. All instruments read nominal.”
“Entering max Q.”
“Whoa…She’s pitching pretty heavily. Altitude ten kilometers. Instruments nominal.”
Yukari’s breathing was uneven.
“She’s fine,” said Satsuki. “Pulse and respiration are still in the green.” No one knew Yukari’s limits better.
“Mission control, Tampopo. I think we’re past max Q. All systems normal.”
“Hoi, Yukari. You’re doing great.”
“The sky is getting dark. I still can’t see any stars, but it’s a deep navy blue now.”
“Roger that, Yukari.”
“Altitude sixty kilometers, 3.9 G. Instruments nominal.”
“Solid rocket booster burn complete. Initiating separation sequence.”
“SRB separation confirmed. I wonder if I can see them on the screen.”
“They’ll already be out of your field of view,” said Kinoshita.
“Roger that. I can see the horizon curving outside the porthole now. There’s an island ahead and to starboard. This all looks a lot more real than in the simulator.”
That comment elicited a few smiles in the control room.
Kinoshita, however, remained all business. “Tampopo, this is mission control. Do you really see an island through the porthole?”
“Affirmative. One big island, clear as can be. I can even make out bits of reef to the left of it. Probably one of the Gilbert Islands.”
“Copy that. How does the curvature of the horizon compare with the simulator?”
“Pretty much the same.”
Kinoshita switched off the mike and looked at the rocket’s position on the screen. “The Gilbert Islands should be just a few dots from where she is. Anything from our tracking stations?”
“We’ve already lost her. We’ll have to wait for Christmas Island to pick her up,” said one of the flight controllers.
“The telemetry looks good. Current altitude 160 kilometers,” said the orbital guidance controller.
Kinoshita turned to Director Nasuda. “She might be off course. Do we want to abort?”
“Not yet,” answered Nasuda. “Let’s give it some time.”
“Hoi. If we’re going to abort, it has to be soon. The escape rockets will separate soon.”
“We’re not aborting,” said Nasuda.
“If the gyroscopes are lying to us, she could be in real danger,” said Kinoshita.
“Yukari’s reports confirm the altitude. At this point it’s safer to let her get in one orbit than scramble to abort.”
Yukari’s voice crackled over the speakers. “Mission control, Tampopo. Emergency rockets jettisoned. I could see the flash when they fired.”
“Hoi. Roger that, Yukari. Main booster cutoff in three minutes forty seconds.”
“Copy.” There was a pause before Yukari’s next transmission. “Mission control…Tampopo.” Her voice was strained. “Acceleration at 6.1 G and climbing. She’s shaking quite a bit…but not as bad as max Q. All instruments nominal.”
“Just twenty more seconds, Yukari.”
“Roger. Whoa, I feel light now! No acceleration. My arms are floating. Main booster separation confirmed. Attitude nominal.”
“Keep your arms on the armrests, Yukari. Prepare for OMS burn.”
“Roger—there it is!” The rumble of the orbital maneuvering system carried over Yukari’s open mike. “OMS burn complete. It’s quiet now—unbelievably quiet. Altitude 204 kilometers. Am I in orbit?”
“Hoi. Congratulations, Yukari. We’re all smiles down here. How does the earth look? Anything you want to say?”
“The clouds are amazing—I wish I had a bigger window.”
“Good job, Yukari,” said Kinoshita. He was looking at the orbital display. “You should be in range of Christmas Island.”
He called the tracking center. “This is Solomon mission control. Could you report Tampopo’s position?”
“We don’t have Tampopo at this time.”
“Check again.”
A brief pause. “Confirmed. Radar is operational, but we’re not tracking anything.”
“Roger that. Let us know the minute you pick anything up.” Kinoshita switched his transmitter to Yukari. “Tampopo, this is mission control. What do you see out the porthole?”
“The island from before is at the top of the window—wait, I think it’s at the bottom. There’s a different island up ahead. That’s weird, I didn’t think Christmas Island was that big.”
“What does the island look like?”
“There are some tall mountains on the right, and it’s narrower in the middle. It’s so big—”Yukari fell silent. “Is that New Zealand? Why am I going south?”
No one spoke in the control room. They didn’t have an answer for her.
In the Taliho village, the people gathered in the square gazed up at the sky. The “fireworks” had vanished from sight.
“Today’s the twenty-ninth,” muttered the chief. “The curse won’t hurt anything…will it?”
CHAPTER VIII
MEDDLING SPIRITS
[ACT 1]
IN THE DARKENED cockpit, Yukari stared at the projection on the screen, a distorted image of the earth captured through the spacecraft’s fish-eye lens. Far below her, the shadow of dusk settled over the earth.
Arcs of giant clouds burned red along a front, their peaks casting long shadows behind them. A thin layer of clouds drifted below like delicate crepes. Beyond the borders of the clouds extended a vast expanse of indigo ocean. White dots peppered the water, but Yukari couldn’t be sure whether they were clouds or the caps of the waves.
“The water looks cold,” muttered Yukari. These were not the warm waters of the atolls she had grown accustomed to. In the course of the twenty-five minutes she had been traveling over the South Pacific, the color of the water beneath her had steadily changed.
“You have an altitude reading for us yet?” asked Kinoshita. He had asked Yukari to measure her altitude using an onboard visual navigat
ion system.
Yukari snapped out of her reverie. “Getting to it now.” She aligned her scope with the curve of the horizon and read the measurements on the screen. It was a process one might have found on an ancient seafaring ship, only earth and sky were reversed. “Altitude 194 kilometers. Speed…7.8 kilometers per second.”
“Sounds like you’re in a stable orbit,” said Kinoshita, the relief plain in his voice. Since Tampopo had reached orbital velocity, at least they didn’t need to worry about her dropping out of the sky anytime soon.
“I’m approaching land now. South America, I think.”
“Let’s see if we can narrow that down. Check it against your map.”
Yukari turned to the map in her operations manual and compared it with the image on the screen. An intricate coastline rolled toward her. Tendrils of murky water snaked their way toward a shore tinged with reddish brown.
“Hmm. I think I’m at fifty-one degrees south latitude—Puerto Montt in Chile. Passing over it now, MET reads twenty-seven minutes, fourteen seconds.”
“Copy that. We’ll start working on a plan to get you back.”
“Have you figured out what went wrong yet? I’m dying to find out how I ended up in this whacked-out orbit.”
“We’re not sure yet,” answered Kinoshita. There was a one-second interval between transmission and reception now. “Even if there was a problem with the gyroscope, that doesn’t explain why our optical tracking lost you. As for why you’re off course—and where the energy to make up for the energy lost putting you in an inclined orbit came from—we don’t know. For now it’s best to accept the fact and move on.”
“Oh, I’ve accepted it.” Yukari pursed her lips but said nothing more. What more could she say? After all, she was the one who had insisted on launching. If the problem during the launch was still a mystery, she had no one to blame but herself.
As far as Yukari was concerned, the entire program was dangerous, wasteful, self-serving—in general, a blight on the Solomon Islands. Nevertheless, she would feel bad if it were canceled because of her. At least they had put someone in orbit before the Department of Economic Planning’s deadline expired. If Yukari could manage a safe splashdown, the base on the Solomons and the program would continue.
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