Endless Countdown
[ACT 1]
IT WAS EIGHT o’clock in the morning on December 26. Billowing white smoke still hung over the launchpad, but the screen had already switched to a telescopic view of the unmanned rocket.
“T-plus 128, 129. Solid rocket booster burn complete.” Kinoshita’s words reverberated through the control room.
Already one hundred kilometers away, the rocket flickered and burned on the screen like a tiny torch. Two objects separated from the torch, trailing thin wisps of smoke.
“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.
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?”