Since 70 percent of the earth was covered in water, the odds were on her side.
The main screen in the control room displayed a Mercator projection of the earth overlaid with a plot of Tampopo’s orbit. In the next hour, it would pass over the Brazilian highlands and the Atlantic, North Africa and Europe, Moscow and China, and finally the Philippines.
“I don’t believe it—80 percent of this orbit takes her over land,” said Director Nasuda with a tired sigh.
“This pass is no good,” agreed Kinoshita. “The Philippines and New Guinea have too many islands, and after that we’re into the Gold Coast. One mistake and we’d bring her down on land.”
“And if our timing is off, she could end up below the fortieth parallel. She wouldn’t last long in water that cold.”
“Then we have to bring her down on her third orbit. Do a re-entry burn over Sri Lanka for a splashdown to the south of the Cocos Islands.”
Nasuda nodded. “It’s an Australian territory, so there should be a naval base. We can probably get them to assemble a recovery team.” Director Nasuda lifted a phone and started speaking to someone in English.
Kinoshita turned to Matsuri. “Tell Yukari we’re planning on bringing her back on the third orbit.”
“Hoi. Mission control to Tampopo. Yukari, we have a new reentry plan for you.”
“When and where?”
“On your third orbit, with reentry over Sri Lanka and splashdown near the Cocos Islands in the Indian Ocean.”
“The Cocos Islands? Never heard of ’em.”
“It’s a nice place. When I was little, the whole village went there by canoe.”
“You’re pulling my leg.”
“The Taliho don’t pull legs.”
“All right, if you say so. Now what? I have three hours to kill.”
“Don’t worry, Yukari. We’re going to be busy checking systems and practicing your attitude maneuvers. And since your gyroscopes are unreliable, we’ll need you to make some navigational observations too.”
“Roger that.”
[ACT 2]
YUKARI CHECKED THE cabin pressure and carefully lifted the visor on her helmet. The cockpit smelled of rubber insulation. The whir of the ventilation fan and the hum of the electrical inverter were the only sounds that intruded on the eerie silence in the capsule.
“Mission control, this is Tampopo. I’m preparing to engage manual attitude control.”
“Hoi. Copy that.”
Yukari flipped the switch to enable manual control, grasped the control stick with her right hand, and released the safety.
“Starboard roll.”
Yukari tilted the stick gently to the right.
Click.
A magnetic valve behind her opened. The thruster itself made no sound. The attitude indicator on the control panel began to spin.
“Roll rate, twenty degrees per second.”
There was another click as Yukari returned the stick to the neutral position. The capsule stopped moving at once.
“Roll rate, zero. Easier than a video game.”
“We want you to look outside to confirm you’ve stopped moving, Yukari.”
“I can see the moon through the window. As steady as if it was hanging on a wall. It looks like a shining silver platter.”
“It must be beautiful.”
“You can see for yourself on the next flight.”
“That’s right!”
Yukari proceeded to test the manual controls on each of the three major axes of the ship. Everything checked out.
“Looks like the onboard gyroscopes are working fine. The jinx must have been on the booster,” remarked Yukari.
“Oh no!” screamed Matsuri.
“What? What is it?”
“I’m so sorry, Yukari. I did something really, really stupid.”
“What?”
“I forgot to tell Mom and Dad that the launch was delayed. I told them not to put a curse on the rockets going up on the twenty-seventh, but I never said anything about the launch today.”
“That’s it?” Yukari breathed a sigh of relief.
“What do you mean, ‘that’s it’? This is terrible! You don’t know how powerful evil spirits can be.” There was dead certainty in Matsuri’s voice.
“But the rocket didn’t blow up or anything. The orbit’s just a little off, that’s all.”
“We can’t let down our guard, Yukari. There are still evil spirits with you. It will only get worse from—”
A voice in the control room cut her off. “That’s enough of that, Matsuri.” The transmission went silent.
Yukari smiled to herself. “Believe in spirits all you want. I’m putting my faith in science. The attitude controls are working, so if we can do the deorbit burn and the parachutes open like they’re supposed to, we’re home free. Trust me, everything is going to be just fi—”
A violent jolt rocked the ship. Yukari screamed. She opened her eyes and saw the attitude indicator spinning wildly.
“Mission control, Tampopo.” Yukari’s voice was shaking. “We have a situation up here. Something shook the ship, and the capsule is spinning out of control. I’ve got an alarm on oxidation tank two—it’s leaking. Other systems are—”
Kinoshita’s voice came over the radio. “Close your visor and check the cabin pressure.”
“Roger that. My visor is closed. Cabin pressure is normal. The B-39 control valve is lighting up red.”
“Check your oxygen supply. If there’s a problem, I want you to put on your emergency backpack.”
“Oxygen supply reads normal.” Yukari forced herself to breathe normally as she checked her instruments. “Cabin temperature and electric voltage are nominal. Life support systems all check out. Roll rate 314 degrees per second. Pitch rate 140 degrees.”
“How’s that oxidation tank?”
“Pressure is at zero. Must be empty.”
“I don’t want you to touch the attitude controls yet—it might trigger an explosion. As long as you have your number one tank, you’re not in any danger. We can still bring you home.”
“Copy that—Aiieee!”
“What is it?”
Yukari was about to report seeing sparks dancing outside the ship, but then she stopped herself. She had seen this in the videos they watched in class.
“I see ‘fireflies’ outside the window. Thousands of particles sparkling outside the ship. They’re thinning out now.”
“Probably the fluid from the oxidation tank. Do you see anything else?”
Yukari peered out the window. The capsule was still spinning, making it difficult.
“Uh-oh. I see something—something big. It looks like debris.”
“Describe it.”
“There’s a long white piece—like tape or a cable or something. There’s also something square, like a brick. It’s black—I can’t see it anymore.”
“Continue your observations of the craft, inside and out. We’ll be analyzing the telemetry.”
“Um, Kinoshita? That black thing…” Fear had crept into Yukari’s voice. “It looked like a heat shield tile.”
It was three seconds before Kinoshita replied. “The tiles are diamond shaped, with a slight curve.”
“That sounds right, but I didn’t get a good look. I can’t think of anything else it might have been.”
If even one of the reinforced carbon tiles had become dislodged, reentry would be impossible—a simple fact known to everyone in the program, Yukari included.
“This doesn’t look good…Do you know what happened?”
“That’s what we’re going to figure out. We have to take this one step at a time.”
“I know, it’s just…”
“Stay calm, Yukari.”
“I am calm!”
“Oh? Your vital signs tell a different story.”
“Huh?” Yukari’s eyes went immediately to the heart-rate monitor. It was over 120 beats per minute. “Did Satsuki put the medical feed up on t
he screen?”
“I did,” said Satsuki, her voice filling Yukari’s helmet. “And if you want me to pull it down, you need to take some nice, deep breaths and relax.” It was the first time Yukari had heard Satsuki’s voice since the launch.
“I will, just shut it down! Or else I’m gonna rip the cables off myself.”
“There, that’s better.” There was a smile behind Satsuki’s words. “I think your body likes being angry, Yukari.”
Yukari had played right into Satsuki’s hands, which only upset her more.
“When you have some answers down there, I want to hear them. I’m the captain, remember? This whole thing caught me a little off guard, but I’ve got it together now. I can handle this. Tampopo, over and out.”
Despite her brave words, the realization that she might not live through this had been kindled in the back of her mind. She would have to will herself to overcome her fear. It was the only way, and she knew it.
[ACT 3]
“IMPOSSIBLE!” SHOUTED MUKAI. They had woken him after four hours of sleep to break the news to him. “The designers would have taken the possibility of a tank overload into consideration. This isn’t Apollo or Mars Observer—there’s no way that tank could have ruptured on its own.”
“All right,” said Director Nasuda, folding his arms. “Space debris then.”
There were countless pieces of trash in orbit around the earth, most of them little larger than specks of dust. But all of them traveled at speeds faster than a bullet fired from a rifle, each one a small, man-made satellite.
“The odds of an on-orbit impact with debris capable of crippling the ship are practically zero. Unless…” Matsuri’s evil spirits came unbidden to Director Nasuda’s thoughts, but he stopped short of blaming them.
Matsuri sat at her station, mouth agape, eyes vacant.
“Tank number two is here.” Mukai indicated the tank on a diagram of the spacecraft. “This sausage-shaped object wrapped around the outside of the engine. Based on the location of the damaged valve, the debris must have impacted the side at an angle, piercing the tank and the heat shield.”
“How do we fix it?” asked Director Nasuda.
Mukai started to speak, then paused again before answering. “I don’t know if we can. Even assuming we could recover the tile, there’s no way to reattach it to the hull.”
“We might be able to use the adhesive in the space suit’s repair kit,” interjected Motoko. “It’s good up to three hundred degrees.”
“No, if the damage was bad enough to rip off a tile, the surface underneath will be a mess. Like a piece of paper with a hole punched through it.”
“In light of the circumstances, I think it’s worth a look,” said Kinoshita. “We have to send Yukari out there to see what we’re dealing with.”
“In that suit? It’s too dangerous,” said Satsuki. “It was designed for use inside a spacecraft. It may be airtight, but it doesn’t afford any protection against space debris or solar radiation.”
“Then we’ll only send her out while she’s on the night side of the earth. And if somehow she does get caught on the day side, she can take shelter in the shade of the spacecraft. We can make this work.”
“This is what manned spaceflight is all about!” crowed Director Nasuda. “We have eight hours. Time to pull out all the stops.”
“You’re enjoying this,” said Satsuki.
The public relations officer entered the control room and approached Director Nasuda. “The press is going crazy. They want to know why the spacecraft is off its orbital flight plan and what we plan to do about it.”
“We have nothing to hide,” said Director Nasuda. “Get back out there and tell them the truth—all of it.”
A minute later, it was headline news throughout the world.
[ACT 4]
“OUTSIDE? REALLY?”
“That’s right. I know we didn’t plan for an EVA, and your training for this is inadequate, but—”
“No, I’m in!” Yukari jumped at the opportunity. It beat twiddling her thumbs waiting for something to happen.
Yukari removed the emergency backpack from its storage place behind the seat and checked the airtight seal on her helmet. The backpack would provide an independent source of oxygen and power for up to an hour.
Next order of business was stopping the capsule from spinning. Yukari switched attitude control to manual and grasped the stick in her right hand. “Don’t blow up…” she muttered. Watching the attitude indicator as she worked, she fired reaction thrusters to stabilize the capsule one axis at a time. The capsule handled as it had before, flawlessly.
With the capsule’s spinning under control, Yukari followed instructions from the ground to reorient the spacecraft.
“Mission control, Tampopo. The capsule is in position.”
“All right, now we want you to depressurize the cabin. Look for a handle on your right. It should have a red tag on it.”
“I have it.”
“Is your visor secured?”
“Affirmative.”
Yukari removed the tag and rotated the handle. There was no sound, but the needle on the cabin-pressure dial began to move.
“Cabin depressurizing—it’s getting cold.”
“That should pass in a moment. Why don’t you go ahead and attach your tether.”
“Roger that.”
A few minutes later, the interior of the ship was a vacuum. Yukari fired the thrusters again to compensate for the spin generated by the release of the air.
“Mission control, Tampopo. I’m preparing to open the hatch.”
“Copy that. You are on the night side of the earth and will remain there for the next twenty minutes. Make sure you’re back inside that capsule by then.”
Yukari reached up and opened the hatch. A black square like the maw of a cave loomed above her. She released her harness and pulled on the edge of the hatch with her right hand. Yukari drifted upward.
A moment later, her upper body was outside the capsule. Her eyes went immediately to what appeared to be gas leaking from the bow of the spacecraft.
“There’s something coming from the nose—” Yukari began, before realizing what it was she was seeing. It was the Milky Way, and for the first time she understood how it had earned the name.
A ruby red star glowed beside the Milky Way, and nearby was a tidy row of three brilliant stars.
“Orion…When was the last time I saw that?”
Seen from Maltide, Orion lay in the northern sky, just past the zenith, only inverted left to right from the way Yukari had grown up seeing it. The orientation of the capsule just happened to mimic the horizon near Japan, making Orion appear as Yukari remembered.
The stars were huge, brilliant—and none of them twinkled as they did on Earth. Yukari decided to test her knowledge of the constellations she had been taught. Looking from Orion to the far bank of the Milky Way, she found the twin stars Castor and Pollux that dominated Gemini. A little farther away she spotted Procyon in Canis Minor. Sirius should lie just beyond, but the bow of the ship hid it from view.
“Tampopo, this is mission control. What is your status?” Kinoshita sounded impatient.
“Oh, sorry. The stars are just so beautiful.”
“You only have fifteen minutes till dawn.”
“Roger that.” Yukari turned slowly until she was facing the tail of the ship. The engine was two meters to the aft behind the hatch, which rose from the ship like a sail. “My entire body is outside now. I’m holding on to the hatch. This feels a lot like the underwater training actually. I’m looking down at the earth—it’s pitch black. Wait, I think I see some lights. Where am I?”
“You’re over the top of the Italian peninsula. You’re about to pass to the south of Moscow, and then you’ll be over the Tian Shan Mountains.” Kinoshita stopped himself. “You need to be working on getting that floodlight turned on so you can examine the ship.”
“Roger that, I’m on it.”
“I don’t see any problems—Wait!”
“What is it?”
“There’s a hole on the starboard aft, just beneath the doors for the floats. It’s about ten centimeters in diameter, with jagged edges.”
“That’s pretty much what we expected. Try and get a closer look at the heat shield. Be careful not to let your suit or the tether brush up against any of the damaged areas.”
“Roger.”
Grabbing on to projections on the surface of the ship, Yukari propelled herself forward using only her arms. It looked as though she were doing a handstand, but of course she was lighter than a feather.
Yukari reached the rear of the ship. The heat shield covering the tail was composed of neat rows of tiles arranged into a curved pancake shape. At its center was a small hole, out of which protruded the orbital maneuvering system engine nozzle and its protective door. Yukari maneuvered herself to the edge of the heat shield and directed her light on the tiles—and there it was.
“I’ve located the damage to the heat shield. It’s by the OMS. There are two tiles missing, and the surrounding area is raised.”
“What does it look like underneath the tiles?”
“The honeycomb mesh is torn to bits.”
“Copy.” A short pause. “If you had the tiles, do you think you could get them back in place?”
“Negative. The base is too uneven. It’s about three centimeters higher than the surrounding surface, and there are cracks radiating from the center.” Yukari reported her observations without emotion.
The damage she was seeing meant death for her, but somehow she remained calm—the fear would come later.
“Understood,” said Kinoshita. “Go on and get back inside.” His voice betrayed no trace of emotion.
[ACT 5]
DIRECTOR NASUDA HUNG up the phone. “The soonest they can have a shuttle up is four days—two weeks for a Soyuz. Nothing but inflexible, hulking leviathans.”
Rocket Girls Page 14
