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Two kilometers south of Launch Pad Twelve, Podskiya Manned Spaceflight Center, Casari
15 July, 1505
Keith Coliar's title was Chief Director, Casaran Directorate of Space Operations. Behind his back, he was "The Big man." A former holder of the mostly-extinct rank of Sky Marshal in the Casaran Air Force, he was probably as accomplished a fighter pilot as you would find in Casari. Ignoring that his accomplishments were in formation flying and mock-dogfighting make his credentials even more amazing. Eight years of duty in a front line squadron, Four years as a test pilot, and another Eight flying one of the most flightworthy oak desks the Air Force had to offer, he was tapped for an entirely different mission.
One that had very little connection with actual flight experience, at any rate.
The golf cart he sat in rolled down the road towards a building listed on site maps as "12:184B2000" What the code really ment, he still had no idea. But Building 12:184B2000 was a reinforced concrete bunker, containing the one person in the whole facility that he wanted to meet.
The golf cart skidded to a stop, breaking his concentration. The geeky looking twenty-five year old jumping out of the drivers seat, motioning him towards the door recessed in the ground. "This way, sir." Everyone always called the Big Man sir. The kid's tie flapping in the wind, he jumped down the steps and threw open a reinforced door with the number stenciled on it, before getting fell on by another man in dress pants and a tie. "Damnit, Keys, watch where you're going." He said, getting up and brushing himself off. Keys nodded and walked past him into the bunker, not even making eye contact with his superior as they passed.
"Do all your employees fear you so much?" Coliar said.
"Naa, he's a good kid. Just have to keep him on his toes, is all." the man said, standing in front of Coliar.
"You're barely older than he is, and you're calling him kid?" Coliar responded.
The man didn't flinch. "You're the one who's supposed to be keeping an eye on us out here, it seems. Retired Sky Marshal Keith Coliar, returning to a position of power for the good of the country."
Coliar stared the man down. "And you are Samuel Betrazio, the young, hopelessly eccentric Chief Designer of one of the Directorate's design bureaus, who thinks he runs this whole damn place now that he managed to sell the government on one of his manned rocket designs."
"I see you do your homework, sir." Betrazio said, turning to look at the pad just over two Kilometers distant. "The Enseia Booster is enclosed in the tower shrouds right now. The launch countdown is on hold at thirteen hours eight minutes, three short of fuel loading, as we work on a remote sensor relay here in the station. Otherwise the countdown is proceeding as planned, and you, sir, will have your first successful launch."
"It better be. A billion and a quarter selaris is too much money to be wasting on a fool's errand."
Betrazio clenched his fist at his side, gazing off into the distance. "It'll fly."
Coliar looked out at the pad. The black-painted towers on either side were tight together, hugging the outside of the rocket, who's red-and-white quartered exterior was visible between the walkways and beams. "Let's both hope so. Or else I'll have the shortest tenure as Chief of the Directorate in history, and in my place, they'll place some idiotic Lieutenant General from Intelligence who only sees the value of sattelite pictures." The director said, climbing in the golf cart for the trip back. "Good luck, Sam."
"Luck has nothing to do with it." Betruzio said, glancing back over his shoulder.
Prelaunch Control Center (Building Thirty-Nine)
16 July, 1:42 pm
"Out of the way, out of the way." Some intern said, using himself as a bulldozer to make room for the big man behind him. "I'm sorry, sir, it's usually not crowded like this."
"It's alright." He said, following the intern as he threw himself at others walking in the hall, discussing things partially over his head. Coliar was finally lead to the room in particular, where the intern nodded and ducked into the flow going the other way down the hall. Coliar pushed through the door, however, and into another kind of mayhem.
At fifteen consoles all over the room, engineers and technicians were typing and talking into headsets, all seemingly holding three conversations at once. In the middle of it all was Betrazio, seemingly in three places at once, pointing at consoles, talking to people, his brain switching from mode to mode as he was confronted with facts about every aspect of the launch. Quietly, Coliar made his way down the wall, looking at the closest monitor. Three monitors, all holding row after row of numbers, were on screen, the communications panel next to them showing that the engineer was on five communications loops at once- talking on one, listening to four others.
"Director Coliar, I didn't know you were coming to view the launch today." Betrazio said, sounding the smallest bit irritated.
"I hope I don't bother you at all."
"Not a bit. In fact, we have a place for you." Betrazio said, turning and making a motion at a console behind him. "You can sit here. The screens should be set to show the flight plans and general status for you."
Coliar cat in the office chair. The placard "RotD" sat on top of the console, the monitors showing various flight arcs, fuel levels, electrical status, warning panels- and then even more that Coliar didn't understand. Betrazio quickly plugged in a headset and handed it to him. "RotD?"
"Representitive of the Directorate. Considering you ARE the Directorate, the representitive is just an unneeded person in the chain, correct?"
"Right." he said, watching his Chief Designer press buttons. "If you speak, it will go directly to me. Red buttons are for listening, white are for speaking- although I must request that you keep the speaking on other loops to a minimum, as the countdown is in the final minutes." Coliar nodded.
The clock ticked past three minutes. Looking out the front plexiglass, he saw the rocket in the distance, the gantrys pulled back. The red and white stood out brilliantly against the ocean shore another kilometer away.
"Thirty seconds!"
The frenzy reached new heights. Betrazio sat back at his console now, still issuing orders, typing furiously.
"Fifteen seconds. Prepare yourself for a show, Director." came over Coliar's headset. He blinked, but kept his eyes out the window.
A fantastic blast of flame shot out of the bottom of the rocket. Slowly, it began it's climb above the gantry. The frenzy had stopped- everyone was watching. As long as everything was perfect, there was no need to talk.
---
"I have to say, Betrazio, they get a good amount of bad press going about you."
"That's what I hear." The designer said, leaning back in his chair.
"But I have to say- I can really tell why you got into this sort of thing today."
Betruzio cracked a smile. "Thank you, sir."
This post has been edited by Casari on Sep 1 2006, 11:38 PM |
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Office of the Chief Director, Lawson Office Building (Building Two)
23 July, 1505
Coliar sat behind his desk and looked back and forth between the two men sitting in front of him. "Well, gentlemen, I don't think either of you know each other. Doc, this is Group Captain Tyler Corvalo, new Head of the Astronaut Corps. Tyler, this is Doctor Jacob Ritazzo, the Directorate's new Head of Medicine. And there's a particular job that comes down to both of you."
"I just got the capsule specifications from Carl Ryman, the designer." Coliar said, nodding. "Currently, there is no Astronauts in the Corps, making the job of the Captain here rather pointless. The good Doctor here has nobody to perform some sadistic tests on. We want to remedy both of those problems. Therefore, it's time we went out to recruit a few, isn't it? Now, of course, this isn't as easy as it sounds. Mainly because if it's public, we're going to have a hundred million volunteers. We need a list of qualifications on exactly how medically fit and experienced these people will need to be, what education they have to have... and I have to say, I'm happy I don't have to do this myself and can just put it on you."
Corvalo and Ritazzo looked at each other and sighed.
Resol Research Facility (Building Eleven), Room 14A
16 August, 1505
"You've all undergone a bit of a whirlwind process to end up here." Corvalo said, standing at the podium at the front of the room. "But there's one good thing. All the competition you have left is right here in this room, right now. Over the next week, we have a variety of tests for you to undergo. And our head of Medicine right here is going to get to do pretty much whatever the hell he wants to you. And if you want to be an Astronaut, this is only the first step in the journey."
"You're all here because the rest of us here feel that your experiences give you an advantage over everyone else who applyed. Plus, you'll fit in the capsule, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. On behalf of everyone here at the Directorate already, we want to with you good luck, and by the best ones win."
Third Floor Meeting Room, Lawson Office Building
11:48 am, 24 August, 1505
People had been asked into the third floor meeting room, group by group, all morning. Vanload by vanload, until six were left.
Wing Commander Eri Salter had joined the Air Force with the intention of being a pilot when he was twenty-two. With a title like Wing Commander, he must have been successful. Serving in both attack and fighter aircraft, he held the command of the Seventh Fighter Squadron when he applied for duty as an Astronaut.
Senior Lieutenant Lewis Rye wasn't an Air Force aviator- He flew off of the Aircraft Carrier Alliance for all of his military career. After experiencing the sorry craft he was supposed to be flung off the end of a carrier deck in, he became a test pilot, and spent the next six years being flug off the end of an aircraft carrier in other sorry craft that hadn't been tested yet.
Pilot Officer Leon Herali already held the distinction of being the Highest-Flying Casaran so far, as part of the Air Force's ZAR9 Rocket-plane program. He had suffered along with the Aircraft, as modification after modification had resulted in a bizzare looking cockpit, where related controls were completely opposite each other, the throttle had been taken from a broken EF76, and one memorable occasion, he had taken off to find that the sensors on the fly-by-wire system were interpreting his controls in such a manner that left roll had become pitch up and pitch up had become right roll.
Pilot Officer Daniel Aspari didn't spend an overwelming amount of time in aircraft. His career was more of a "human test dummy." Spending a good amount of time in centrifuges and cargo aircraft, being flung around along with others in order to try and find what exactly a good Casaran could take before depositing his lunch on the seat in front of him.
Dino Eroanapolis actually didn't make his living as a combat pilot. He did, hopwever, have lots of experience in cramped quarters where one mistake could mean his untimely death and the possiblity that his body would never be recovered. Diving down over 4000 meters underwater with two other people in a cramped, 2-meter Deep Sumbergence Vehicle, he spent over four hundred and fifty hours controlling the vehicle around the ocean floor while some scientists oohed and aahed.
Then there was former Grand Prix Driver Mina Escarez. Probably the least likely person to ever be considered for a job as an astronaut, Mina's seven years of top level driving had gotten her over fifty wins in sports cars, prototypes, open wheel, and rally events. In her career, she had developed a reputation for managing to abuse a car and bring it home successfully, and did a much more than adequate job of communicating over a radio exactly what was going on at any moment. Even ignoring her college education in chemical engineering, which she admits wasn't very heavily used after college, she made at least a decent running.
They sat in the room silently- being the last group, it was much more than likely that another group had the ones chosen in it. After all, most of the nation's best fighter pilots were in the other groups. They had a deep sea diver and a race car driver, for crying out loud. However, that didn't stop their hopes from rising when the door swung open.
"I'm Chief Director Keith Coliar." He said, sitting at the head of the table and nodding at the assembled canadates, with Corvalo and Rittazo following close behind. "I'm sure you've all met at some point over the weekend." The candidates all nodded in unison. "Well, as you know, it was a very tight competition for only a very few spots that we have open for Astronauts right now. And there were definately many qualified candidates taking the tests along side you."
Aspari sank back into his chair slightly.
"Which is why I have to congratulate you all for proving yourselves just better enough for us to select you."
A few seconds of silence filled the room.
"Well, I suppose it takes a moment to sink in. So, I believe that we're all going to get something to eat, and then we're going to throw you on the mercy of the press as a bit of a baptism of fire. So stand up, shake each other's hands, and let's go." |
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Prelaunch Control Center
2:29 pm, 26 August 1505
After a day of sitting in classes in a vauge attempt on the half of the Directorate to teach their new "Astronauts" a broad overview of what they exactly had to do, it was felt that viewing the Enseia Rocket test would be do more to inspire them on their new mission. Which is why the six of them were sitting in the front row of the spectator area behind thirty engineers doing their job. On a screen hanging from the ceiling, the countdown scrolled down to zero. The red-and-white rocket lifted off the pad, slowly gaining speed.
From one side of the room, someone grabbed their headset and began shouting, and the calm stare that accompanied the early part of the launch was abandoned as the pre-launch pace of work was quickly exceeded. People running around, typing furiously at the computer, attempting to right whatever was going wrong.
Not that any of the Astronauts could hear. The observation booth was soundproofed.
Betrazio gave up on the crowded communication loops and threw his headset at the wall. Leaning over his console, he began shouting commands left and right, pointing at engineers and cursing whatever went wrong. However, most of the activity stopped when the bright spot that was what was left of the rocket grew to ten times it's normal size.
The astronauts looked at each other and blinked. Finally, Escarez spoke. "Well... at least we got that out of the way now."
Betrazio kicked a cabinet door off of it's hinges and stomped out.
Design Group Lab Eight (Building Eight)
11:46 am, 27 August 1505
The official inquiry into the explosion of mission ENT-2 took place in the design lab. A projector beamed a complex diagram onto the building's wall. Other than a microphone, the table the projector sat on was the only available furnature, which left everyone standing around the wall.
"Well, Chief Designer. I believe that you and your team have had adequate time to determine the cause of the accident." the Investigator, some clod from Tyrellia named something Lawrence, said in a manner that showed none of the respect that Betrazio felt his position should hold.
"Yes, we have. The accident was caused by ignition of the second stage engines at launch plus thirty-one. The flame from the second stage firing broke the skin of the first stage, spreading to the oxidizer tanks, which then ignited, igniting the kerosene tanks below them in the explosion. The resulting explosion of the remaining first stage propellant then ruptured the skin of the second stage, which exploded as well, causing the loss of craft at launch plus thirty-two."
"Do you currently know why this happened?"
"Air-to-ground telemetry showed a premature activation of the second stage's fuel pumps. This was later confirmed by the recovered flight systems recorders in the nose of the rocket. To the best of our knowledge, the problem was as simple as crossed wires."
"How could you let the lanch proceed with such a glaring flaw in the design o-"
"The problem is not in the design. This problem in particular would be the responsibility of the manufacturer."
"So you are putting the entirety of the blame on Lerain Manufacturing, who constructed the rocket?" Lawrence said, staring the designer square in the eye.
"Yes, I am."
"Do you feel that today's loss should cause delays in the program?"
"No. The operation of the first stage was a complete success."
"Chief Designer, don't you test the wiring on all vehicles when they are recieved?"
"Yes, we do."
"Then this problem did not show itself on the ground?"
"No. We believe this problem was a problem with excessive vibraton of the craft while it traverses the lower atmosphere."
"But you said it was not a design problem."
Betrazio sighed. "It is not a design problem. The point of test flights is to refine the design based on the result of tests. The design had already been changed after the previous test to reduce vibrations in this part of the flight."
Lawrence looked down at his piece of paper. "Thank you, Chief Designer, that will be all."
Samuel Betrazio's Office, Building Eight
Coliar didn't attend the inquiry, opting instead to wait in the office for Betrazio to calm down. He didn't look when the door opened behind him. "I heard it went well."
"Yeah, don't listen to everything you hear."
"Listen, noone's going to replace you here. You're the only one other than Ryman who knows a damn thing about any of this."
"They've been looking to replace me for years. They did send you here to keep an eye on me, after all."
"I like to think my job's a bit more important than that. We'll push the blame off on the contractor and keep going, just like we do for all these kinds of accidents. If it had to happen, it's good that it happened while we're working the bugs out, hmm?"
"I don't need your sympathy, sir." Betrazio said, sitting down in his office chair and leaning back to stare at the ceiling.
Coliar just shrugged. "Better luck with the next one." he said, standing up to leave.
"God, I hope so." Betrazio muttered as his superior walked out the door. |
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Saroki High-Tech Manufacturing Facility, Wilmington
3 September, 1505
It was field trip day for the crew of astronauts. With little for them to do without , they were given a break from their studies and flown down Casari's East Coast to Wilmington, where the Saroki Corporation was bolting together the various components of the Enseia Capsule together into something resembling a working version.
Most of them managed to pretend to be excited about looking at heavy machinery at some point in the tour, and they all were good-natured about meeting group after group of workers, shaking hands, thanking them for their hard work for the good of the program, and generally being good for the Directorate's Public Relation Efforts.
Then they were lead behind closed doors and given a look at the thing they would be stuffed into and shot into space.
Slowly, they approached the bell-shaped capsule and walked around it slowly. The capsule was wider than it was tall, sitting on a stand about two feet off of the floor on it's black heat shield. The dark red sides had sets of small control thrusters equidistant around the outside, a hatch with a small window between a par on one side of the capsule, a matching window on the other.
"It looks like a giant bell." Herali said, running his hand over the small crack for the hatch.
"Sadly, we don't get much of a choice about the shape." one of the company representatives said, carrying over a stepladder. Setting it in front of the hatch, he climbed and turned the small chrome handle, pulling the hatch open. "I figure you'd like to see the inside?"
Herali quickly climbed the steps and peered in the capsule. "There's controls everywhere, how the hell are you even supposed to get in?"
"If you're going to stand and stare, just get out of the way." Rye said, climbing up the ladder. "Well, it's simple. You swing your feet in, then grab the handles and pull yourself through."
"But that... joystick... thing... is in the way."
"No, you hold yourself up with the handle on top."
"Please. You can't even fit in that normally, ignoring the fact that you'd have to do it with a spacesuit on."
"You're an idiot." Rye said, swinging a leg up to get in. He got it up on the side of the hatch before stopping, climbing up the ladder another step, and trying to get in again. The company rep put in a halfhearted complaint about how the capsule was supposed to stay sterile, but he was promptly ignored. Rye got to a position where he got both feet in, sitting on the ladder, before stopping. "Well... maybe I don't know how you get in."
Escarez yawned. "Oh please. You have to climb in head first."
Herali blinked. "That's even more suicidal than getting in feet first. Why don't you just go and take some more media pictures and let the real pilots figure it out."
Dino Eroanapolis shook his head. "Why don't you just lay off your macho fighter-jock bull-explicitive removed- and just let the lady try and get in the bell?"
Herali made a sarcastic motion towards the spacecraft as Escarez turned the ladder ninety degrees and climbed it. Turning on the ladder, she leaned half into the capsule, turned over, pulled her legs in, and turned again, sitting in the single relatively hard seat. "Maybe they should have picked the hangglider instead of so many fighter pilots." She said, looking over the control panel. "Man, this thing is really in your face."
Escarez fiddled with the controls a bit before climbing out, leaving everyone else their turn to get in, screw with controls, hit their heads on something, and compile their mental list of things that they didn't like.
Design Group Building 3
4 September, 1505
Carl Ryman was the easygoing counterpart in the Directorate's Design Group. While his rocket design lost out to the opposing design from Betrazio, his rational persuit of sanity and safety among his half of the design group got them the job of designing the business end of the capsule-rocket combination. Today, he was just hoping to hear the unilateral praise of the astronauts so he could go back about his business.
Today wasn't going to be his day.
"It's to hard to get into, first of all. The controls under the hatch on the left side are too high up."
"The front panel is too close to your face when you're sitting inside. You can't read the controls in the corners, and I'm not sure you'll be able to fit your hand up to flip things while in the suit."
"The hand controls are too flimsy, I think I bent one of the thruster control handles when I was playing with it."
"You can't read the controls up behind your head in the mirror, it's too small."
"The windows are too small."
"The gauges are too hard to read off on one side- can you change the panel so the sides are bent in?"
"The seat isn't very comfortable, it's more just a set of straps hanging off a frame. It wouldn't be too hard to get some pads in there, would it?"
"I noticed there was an Oxygen Vent switch right in the middle of everything else. Can we move the control to dump the oxygen overboard away from all the normal controls?"
"Yeah, that's right. Maybe we could put some guards over some of the more potentially lethal switches, so we can't bump it and kill ourselves?"
"The computer monitors were hard to read down in the corners next to where the legs are supposed to fit, can we move them someplace else?"
"We were in that thing for maybe twenty minutes, and damn, the thing got hot. It won't heat up that badly when we're flying it, will it?"
Ryman was a bit dazed when they got to the end of their list of concerns. But when they did, they had saved the best thing for last.
"Hey, Carl, we're happy you scheduled this so we could talk to you about these things, some of us had us really worried. You'll get back to us when you fix them, right?" |
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Environmental Simulation Lab, Building Nine
24 September 1505
The inside of Design Group Six's suite of rooms in Building Nine resembled a regular clothing factory after eight months of research. A single vacuum chamber and what amounted to a high-power sewing machine did more than enough to keep Adam Pedrosa and his own particular group of geeks and nerds more than occupied from making simple bubbles in an attempt to hold pressure in a vacuum to bearing-assisted sealed joints and airtight metal fastening rings. While there were some extremely vocal arguments about spacesuit design along the way, the fact that the intercom was disabled and wired to a stereo the third day after the formation of the group says something about the preferred work environment of the mostly ignored people of Group Six.
That is, until people holding important titles like "Astronaut" and "Director" show up and begin asking exactly how you're going to stop people from exploding once they make it into space.
So in about thirty minutes, all the random pieces of what would amount to a Casaran spacesuit had been assembled and laid out for the observation of all.
"Our inner layer consists of a network of hoses. These hoses are part of the environmental control system, pumping water or an alternative coolant through the tubes to keep the wearer's body temperature at a constant temperature.
"Then the actual suit comes in. The inner layer consists of a thin nylon layer, before a layer of neoprene rubber which is designed to keep the oxygen in the suit- about four and a half psi of pure oxygen. Around joints, the layers kind of zigzag in and out slightly- if I had to compare it to something, think a bendy straw- in order to provide greater ease of joint movement without risk of the whole thing inflating. The next layer is another on nylon, which keeps the inner pressure layer from inflating and making you a giant balloon. Over this is fire protection layers, before an outer layer of nylon again, with several layers over the joints. The pressure suit comes in a chest piece, pants, boots, gloves, and a helmet, which all fasten together with these metal locking rings."
All the important people stared at him bizzarely. Taking occasional glances at each other, they slowly began to nod. "Great, when do we get them?" one asked.
"Well, we have to take your measurements. Have all the parts custom-manufactured, then have you test it, see what doesn't work, have new pieces made to replace that... we might have the first one ready in a month and a half."
"Um... Alex, a month and a half isn't exactly an optimal window for completion."
"Completion? We're still working out how to connect it to the random crap in that capsule. Oh, the final models will be ready just about when it's time for them to fly."
"I'm not sure that will work."
"It has to work. It's not something we can throw together. And most of all, I won't throw it together, because if something happens with the suit and someone dies, I'm the only one here to blame. Plus we're working on all the environmental systems for the capsule as well, because noone here knows what to do with that. So it's not whether or not it will work, but that's how it has to work. We can have the first early model ready in a month and a half."
The director tilted his head slowly and looked Alex over. "Alright, get started." he said, turning to leave, followed by the astronauts and other officals.
"Yes, Director." |
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Space Mission Control Center (Building Five)
9 October, 1505
It was a very different rocket sitting on the pad, and a very different man behind the helm. After the soulless command of Betrazio's booster testing sequences, the much calmer Carl Ryman was at the Mission Commander's desk deep inside Building Five. Section Officers only manned a few of the consoles, however- a reentry test with a dummy capsule and a rocket too weak to make orbit didn't necessarily necessitate every station be full. The hapless capsule, equipped with a computer and not much else, ballasted up to the normal capsule's weight, was destined for a net trip of only about 100 miles- short enough that a minute before launch, planes were already making the trip to observe the Capsule's firey decent from a maximum altitude of 112 miles.
The rocket flew straight and true, and the capsule, the same one that sat on the stand as each of the astronauts gave a good measure of their own displeasure over the inner deisgn of the vehicle, made a beautiful spinning reentry as the heat shield slowly melted away, finally slowing as the lone altimeter in the capsule launched first a small chute to orient the capsule correctly, then a larger parachute, slowing the capsule to a graceful 30 miles an hour for it's quiet decent into the water.
The Directorate's lone naval observation vessel, a retired destroyer hull with all signs on armament removed and a pair of halfhearted helicopter pads put in their place, quickly approached. An aging helicopter slowly swung overhead to hover, dropping a diver on a line. He quickly attached lines to the capsule before rising up into the helicopter again. Slowly, the capsule rose from the water and was carried back to the ship. Set down on one of the pads, the lines were dropped from the helicopter as it slowly settled down on the other.
And that was pretty much all there was. The capsule reentered the atmosphere as successfully as it could- now, hopefully, the person inside wouldn't mess it up.
Podskiya Space Center Mock-Up Facility (Building Six)
18 October 1505
The machine looked a tad diabolical. A mostly featureless metal sphere with a hatch on one side, surrounded by three rings and a slightly disturbing number of bearings connecting them all. Small air-thrusters were situated on each side and the top and bottom, making it look even more like a sick device of torture.
The six astronauts stood in awe of it for a moment. "Oh god, where did you get one of these?" Daniel Aspari said, closing his eyes.
"What the hell is it?" Dino Eroanapolis said, walking towards it and leaning against the railing that surrounded the whole thing.
"It's a three-axis capsule control trainer." Tyler Carvalo, the Head of Astronauts, said from behind them. "We're going to spin you. And you're going to stop yourself. Then we'll spin you faster, and you'll stop yourself again. And then we're going to spin you so fast that you almost eject your lunch, and then you'll stop yourself."
Aspari held onto his stomach. "You're not even going to be kind enough to bring a cot in here?"
"Pfft. You've spent more than enough time in one of these before. You should be a pro."
"Yeah, a pro at skipping lunch."
October 21, 1505
*all ready in the simulator*
Lewis Rye scowled at the camera. Aspari was right- this was a sick instrument of torture. "As ready as I'll ever be." Quietly, he gave a quick look over the mostly empty console in front of him. With panels where they were most like to be in the final capsule, the gauges were all in the right place, with pitch and yaw in the right hand, roll controls in the left. The left hand had the fourth all-important function- if pulled more than a quarter inch, it engaged the computer, which would silently and mockingly stop the simulator in about ten seconds, with a series of overlapping quick pulses.
The abort switch was an awful thing.
The radio sounded again. *beginning program three - max rotation 15rpm - signal when ready*
Rye pulled the seat belts as tight as they would go and nodded. In fifteen seconds he was making fifteen rotations a minute.
His system was methodical at first- work on one axis. Clearing one axis would make it that much easier to get the other too. The quiet woosh of manuvering jets came from all directions at the eight-ball display's rapid gyrating slowed to something slow and methodical, before stopping with Rye hanging from the seat by the belts. Slowly, he turned himself upright before pulling the handle and letting the computer center the capsule on the steps.
*check lewis thats a successful run good job - well have you out of there in a minute - just spectacular - well see you outside*
The clang of the locks engaging stopped the gentle swaying of the suspended capsule, and the door opened quickly after. The simulator technician popped the seat belts open and helped the rather dizzy Rye out of the simulator, down the steps, and sat him down with his pilot companions in the corner. Leaving him to lay on the floor for a bit, the technician turned to the next astronaut. "Alright, we'll strap you in."
---
Escarez sat in the simulator quietly, formulating a battle plan.
*beginning program three - max rotation 15rpm - signal when ready*
A nod from Mina was all it took to send the capsule spinning up to speed. As soon as it stopped, she began shooting all the thrusters in one direction at once, staring at the indicators in front of her. Closing one eye, she quickly wrenched the controls back and forth, the sound of hydrogen peroxide thrusters going off making some kind of geeky drum solo until the simulator sat perfectly still.
*a tad heavy on the fuel use - best time weve seen so far though by a good seven seconds - fantastic work*
"Meh, I'm not so sure. One of the thrusters is underfiring."
*cant be - all the flow rates are dead on*
"Well, then one of the lines is leaking."
*fuel use is a little abnormal - well check it out soon as we can*
"Great." she said, pulling the seat harness release and streching. "Come let me out, will you?"
*on my way* the technician said, the locks clanking and the door swinging open. Ignoring the technician's help, she hopped out of the seat and jumped down the steps, walking out and climbing over the railing. Walking back to her pre-test spot on the wall, she looked at the other men in various motionsick positions all around the floor. "Pfft. Fighter Pilots." |
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Director's Meeting Room, Lawson Office Building
24 March 1506
The launches slowed down over the winter months. The (mostly) successful series of test launches had made the program seem almost legitimate. But now that everything worked, it was time to go back and spend time doing those other things- documentation, mission rules, experiments, computer code, contingency plans, and mission control organization all had to be worked out and refined to a high-level before a trip to space became anything less than a suicide mission.
Which is why they bothered to get everyone together and press them for information.
Coliar sat at the head of the table, all the important members of the organization sitting around the rest, glancing at each other.
"First of all. Booster tests." he stated, looking over at Betrazio, who clearly considered himself too important to be harassed by the brass.
"We had some initial problems with heavy vibration. Design changes were undertaken to fix the problem, which we completed. We consider the booster ready for flight, pending the upcoming orbital insertion testing."
Ryman sighed. "The rocket is underpowered, and probably won't put someone into orbit without considerable consumption of the onboard fuel reserves."
"The rocket underfired on the last test due to faulty valve motors. The oxidizer lines did not completely open, causing one of the engines to not fully fire. Irregardless, the dummy capsule made it into a successful orbit and would have completed 114 revolutions before it's orbit degraded and it reentered."
Coliar nodded. "The capsule, then?"
"The electrical system is being revamped after the redesign of the capsule's cockpit. Otherwise, all the aerodynamic tests, including the launch escape tests and parachute deployments, have been successful. Softworks is behind on coding a unified command program for the capsule, however, so we're being held up by that. Once it's complete, it'll be tested in the simulator before being loaded on a capsule computer. Right now we have a bunch of patchwork programs that look like what the final program is supposed to that we're training with."
Coliar scratched his ear. "How far behind are they?"
"They estimate three weeks. Chasing down bugs, I suspect, but still. Until they choose to give it to us, we can't do much. I suppose they don't want to be the one to blame if anything goes wrong."
"At least the suit is going well."
Adam Pedrosa nodded. "The three Mark III models are prepared. We're going to begin testing them tomorrow for any improvements, then we'll have the flyers fitted and work on getting the actual flight items built."
"The same can't be said for the people inside them, though. Those spectacular fighter pilots of ours seem to lose their lunch easier than the damn techs who strap into the machines to test them." Doctor Ritazzo said.
"Oh yeah, because those Casaran Fighter pilots are just world famous."
"Anyway, while a bit light in the stomach area, all of them are able to complete all the tests more than satisfactory, including centrefuge, multi-axis, and orientation texting, along with getting to do a medical examination whenever we please."
"Well then, we only have a few other things to discuss." Coliar said, playing with a paper on the desk in front of him. "First, determining mission quidelines and rules is being undertaken by group seventeen, while the various research teams and working out experiments that could be done in the spacecraft. Of course right ow our primary concerns in the first flights are zero gravity adaptation, spacecraft testing, and other medical stuff that we can come up with. After that, however, we're going to have to justify spending a few billion selaris on this whole venture."
"Then there is reentry procedures. Because we can't get that heavy a capsule into that high of an orbit, we will have to prepare landing zones other than ones in the neighboring vacinity of Casari, both around the region and extraregional. That means dealing with some of these crackpot psychos who will probably try to blow us out of the sky. Our ground to orbit communications system will be a similar issue, although less so if tests using the Longbow Sattelite are successful, and then only when the sattelite is in range, which might further restrict our launch windows if we make that a requirement."
"Lastly is the actual establishment of the whole Mission Control Enterprise. We're looking for a Mission Control Commander, but there's not many choices, so that's still a ways away. Unfortunately, it needs to be completed before an actual launch."
"Above all, keep working. As long as we make some progress, they can't shut us down."
"Yes, Director." The rest of them answered. |
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Space Mission Control Center
4 July 1506
The Control Center was buzzing.
On the main video screen, a single video feed of the rocket sitting on Launch Pad Seven was flanked by smaller screens showing launch profile diagrams, orbital schematics, and the website of the national weather service. Over the speakers in the room, a calm voice was reciting the 8 am Ocean Service Forecast as a background to various chatter. As Brett Karr watched, one of the screens changed from the surface path of the flight to the capsule's internal camera.
In it's specifically designed seat, Andy the beagle sat, looking around the capsule while it it's restraints. Over the rows of video screens, a digital clock was stopped on -2:14.
"Sir, we're holding at T-134 seconds."
Karr looked down at his screens an nodded. "Alright, begin the final powerup sequence."
Above the screens, the clock started again. It slowly passed two minutes and continued counting down. Past ninety seconds, it continued down to thirty-one before stopping again.
"Roll back the launch gantrys, begin the final systems checks. Prepare for final launch checklist." The chatter between the officers in mission control and the teams of engineers in the back rooms increased for a minute, before dying off. "Alright, sound off ready for launch."
One by one, each of the control room officers sounded in the affirmative.
"We are ready for launch." Karr said to the Flight Activities Officer, who nodded and put the clock in motion again. It ticked towards zero and a brightl flame erupted from the bottom of the rocket. It slowly started to raise into the air, the view changing from a ground source to chase plane to another chase plane, all oriented to give the best views of the rocket's flight. After two minutes and fourteen seconds the rocket went silent and seperated, the second stage taking over and continuing to push the rocket into orbit."
*commander - booster* a voice said in Karr's headset. "Go ahead."
*picking up minor problems in the rockets launch profile - not an issue currently - could become one if the booster goes much farther off*
Karr looked up at a diagram of the rocket's launch profile. It did seem a tad close to the upper part of the window, but there wasn't anything in particular to worry about yet. "Check, keep me informed."
*will do*
The rocket soon flew out of the range of all the cameras that were available to watch the launch, and all that was left to see was a green-and-black schematic of the ship's orbital path. The clock ticked past four minutes before the rocket finally kicked off and the capsule flew free.
*booster shutoff confirmed - capsule currently go for eight orbits*
"Alright, let's get to work." Karr said, looking over at the FAO.
700 Miles East of Casari
The CSAS Meteor (which was judged to be a better name than "The boat") floated serenely in the center of the prime recovery zone, along with the Navy Destroyers DD-132 Lyon and DD-141 Delara. the differences between the three, however, were quite apparent. The naval staff were scanning the water with quiet efficency, as the crew of the space vessel mostly sat around on the empty helicopter pad and goodef off. Until the flaming streak of the capsule was visible nearby. The helicopter nearly made it in time to watch the capsule splash down in the water, and after fifteen minutes, the hatch was swung open and the beagle was angrily yipping about it's treatment as the medical staff took it for it's post-flight examination.
The boat slowly began a turn back west- the media was probably more than eager to see the first Casaran in space.
This post has been edited by Casari on Sep 17 2006, 12:52 AM |
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Launch Pad 9, Level 5, Capsule Access Room
2:30am, 14 October 1506
37 hours prior to launch
The capsule access room was mostly empty. A few panels and monitors were mounted on a rack against one wall, and some fire extinguishers and general safety equipment was sitting around as well, but for the most part, it was empty white floor space. Except for the person who was supposed to climb into the capsule in 37 hours, that is.
Daniel Aspari was sitting in a folding chair, staring into the tight confines of his Enseia capsule. The red and white exterior of the capsule was partially visible, the hatch hanging open, the dark red seat mounted on the floor in front of him.
"You know, this is supposed to be restricted access." Tyler Corvalo said, pushing the unlocked door open behind him.
"I can't believe I have to fit in that thing. It's still so small." Aspari said, leaning down and peering in.
"Meh, you'll do fine. In 48 hours, you'll be a hero, and have all sorts of medals, and chicks will be throwing themselves at you."
"That's easy for you to say, you're not going to be the one riding the bomb."
Pheonix (ENS-1)
Launch Pad 9
3:02pm, 15 October 1506
The spacesuit was getting hot, the capsule was causing a tad of clausterphobia, raindrops were hitting the spacecraft's small window, and inside, on his back, strapped to a cloth seat by 8 belts and a bolted down door which could only be opened via explosives, Daniel Aspari had to visit the men's room.
"I'm telling you, if I don't go now, I'm going to end up with some kind of kidney infection." Aspari said into his radio, wincing.
*roger - were working on it - stand by*
Aspari tried to rock back and forth gently in his suit. "Standing by." It only took about a minute to get the horrible news, however.
*after consulting with the spacesuit people and the docs they decided that in this case the best course of action would be to just go *
Aspari sat and thought about that for a second. "You want me to pee myself."
*roger that*
"God, we can fly someone into space, but we can't figure out a way for someone to pee before he gets there." Aspari said, settling back in his seat.
*daniel were afraid were going to have to take you out of there - the whole weather system is turning this way - and its too risky to try and launch in winds that heavy over*
"So I just... wet myself... for nothing."
*if it helps they say there is a backup liner for the suit over*
"Ugh, I hate you guys. Get me out of this damn thing, then."
Pheonix (ENS-1)
Launch Pad 9
2:41pm, 17 October 1506
Unlike the 15th, the 17th was a fantastic, sunny day. The light shined through the capsule window, heating up the inside to a slightly unbearable temperature. However, a bit of astronaut ingenuity and one overly disgusting experience too many had left the problems of the previous attempted launch in the past. However, that didn't limit the amount of other problems that kept popping up.
*apparently its an electrical failure - a stupid reason - but without all the ground communication network stations working properly they wont let you fly*
"Ugh."
*the launch window is open for a few more hours - were going to make every oppertunity to get you up - try not to get too bored up there*
"Oh, it's more terror than boredom."
A different voice came over the radio. *you did remember to change your depends before getting in this time i hope* Pedroza's voice said.
"Hey, that was only the fault of your hideously craptastic suit design."
*my suit design was perfect - you should contact god about your bladder design though-* Pedroza said before his voice was cut off. The Spacecraft Communications Officer came back on the radio soon afterward.
*sorry about that - we really have no idea how the hell he got on the channel*
"Yeah, a real professional organization we're running here."
*anyway it looks like the electrical problem isnt a two hour fix - so it looks like you wont be travelling to space today*
"Ugh, this just keeps getting better and better."
Pheonix (ENS-1)
Launch Pad 9
8:12am, 25 October 1506
Another week passed, and Aspari found himself in the familiar position of being flat on his back on top of a giant tank of kerosene.
What made the position even more familiar was the fact that noone was particularly hopeful that he'd make it out of the atmosphere today.
*they are having radio problems down at station 4s this time*
“Should I hold out any hope at all?”
*not likely*
Launch Pad 9, Level 5, Capsule Access Room
7:18 am, 28 October 1506
Aspari was halfway in the capsule when one of the entry room people hung up the phone hanging on the wall. “Don’t put him in.”
“What happened now?” Aspari said, sighing.
“They broke one of the fuel filling valves. The fuel would have spilt out of the side at launch, so it has to be replaced.”
“Oh god.”
“At least we didn’t bolt you in this time.”
Aspari sighed. “Always looking on the bright side.”
Launch Pad 9, Level 5, Capsule Access Room
2:56 pm, 2 November 1506
“Well, it’s about Fifty-Fifty today, Daniel.” Karr said, leaning against the doorframe of the entry room as some workers dressed in white finished hooking together his suit.
“We’ve managed to mess up worse. What’s it this time?”
“The weather again. Pretty strong wind coming off the ocean means we’ll be waiting for a window. We’re rushing the countdown as we speak just in case.”
“I have a good feeling about today, though.” Aspari said over his shoulder.
“Here’s hoping. See you tomorrow.” Karr said, turning to walk back to the elevator.
Pheonix (ENS-1)
Launch Pad 9
6:41 pm, 2 November 1506
*well dannyboy – it looks like you just might be going to space today*
Aspari rocked back and forth in his seat. “I wouldn’t mind it a bit. It’s only a matter of time until we wear out the door-bolts anyway.”
Pheonix (ENS-1)
Low Earth Orbit
6:41 pm, 2 November 1506
The capsule jolted slightly as it was pushed free of the rocket’s second stage. Aspari tapped the thruster joystick a bit to move away a bit faster as the second stage’s retro rockets fired, sending it falling away back into the atmosphere.
And then Daniel Aspari, the first Casaran in Space, turned the capsule to get a view of his homeland out of the window.
“I can see you down there, Control, over. Confirming capsule separation and second stage retro.”
*roger that phoenix – we have a lot to get done in two orbits – we would like to begin with block b on the experiment checklist beginning with tests of the onboard computer systems*
“Roger that.” Daniel said, pulling a blue mission checklist from where the Velcro held it above his head. “Inputting into the computer, two-zero-three-zero-display-one-enter.” Aspari said, turning his head in his helmet to see one of the computer displays change, showing his orbital track over the ground. “It looks like someone down there did their job, control.”
*roger that phoenix – giving the good news to the nerds in the back room now*
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Pheonix (ENS-1)
Low Earth Orbit
7:37 pm, 2 November 1506
EMT L+1:06:12
Daniel Aspari had just seen his first sunset from space. Of course, he couldn't sit still for very long without someone complaining over the radio.
*ens-1 - podskiya - please respond*
Daniel sighed and kept looking out the window. "Phoenix here. Just getting a look out of the window."
*the fao has decided to suspend experiment block c for the moment - we have a special transmission coming through for you - stand by*
Daniel leaned back against the seat. The neck ring was digging into his neck a little bit. "Roger, standing by." A few audiable clicks and some mumbling came over the radio, followed by a burst of static.
*pilot officer daniel aspari i presume*
"Roger that."
*this is premier ari elisar - i trust i'm not keeping you from anything up there*
Daniel's eyes bugged out a little bit. "Um. no sir, not at all."
*good to hear - youve ruined the tv schedule down here - they're even waiting for you to land to start a good dozen football matches - and on behalf of our country id like to thank you for your bravery in pulling something of this magnitude off*
"Well, thank you sir, we definately try to do our best."
A few laughs came over the radio. *because of that - it is my honor to award you the title hero of the confederation today*
Daniel sat there and stared at the sets of numbers on the screen. "Um... it's... and honor, sir."
*all i have is one question - whats it like up there anyway*
Daniel looked back out the window. Casari was sliding towards the horizion, the city lights visible on the east coast. "It's really something, sir."
*do us a favor and make it back pilot - well see you on the ground*
"Yes, sir, thank you sir." Daniel said, taking a deep breath. A burst of static came over the radio again.
*enjoy your talk with the premier*
"You could have told me that I'd have to talk to the damn Premier so I wouldn't sound like a total idiot, you know."
*didnt want to ruin the surprise - fao says to resume block c at item 0078, loading of the spin control program to test rapid attitude thruster use*
"Roger that."
*You got me laughing on that one! - we probably could have told you you were on tv too*
"Oh, you bastards."
Pheonix (ENS-1)
Low Earth Orbit
8:24 pm, 2 November 1506
EMT L+1:53:33
The kick of the retro rocket pack mounted on the base of the capsule felt like it was pushing him back the way he came. Before the first rocket finished, the second fired, then the third, then the fourth. Watching the altitude gauge on his console, the number slowly began to drop, speeding up faster and faster. The computer let one last shot from the manuvering thrusters, setting the capsule spinning like a bullet shot from a gun. All of the flying was done for the day, Daniel thought. Now it was just up to physics.
The occasional flame coming off of the heat shield was visible though the window as the capsule dropped through the atmosphere, and the faint red glow became brighter as the altitude got lower. By the time the first parachute deployed, most of the heat shield had melted away. He glided slowly, the speed and angle of his decent stablized by the small parachute. Watching the altitude gauge pass 4000 feet, the small chute released and the main chute deployed, leaving Daniel to enjoy the rest of the night landing at 30 miles an hour. Reaching forward, he began shutting off systems and turned on the cabin light.
Then, before he prepared himself for it, the capsule hit the water. it briefly went under before settling on the surface, strobe lights around the top of the capsule blinking in the darkness. Glancing up at the altitude gauge again, he tilted his head. Water was an odd thing to find 2000 feet up.
*phoenix - the neska has recovery craft airborne - they should be there to pick you up in ten minutes or so*
"Roger that. We appeared to have had a failure of altitude sensors on reentry, it's reading about 2,000 feet high."
*roger - we'll start looking at that now - good flight danny boy - well see ya when you decide to grace us with your presence again* The radioman at Podskiya said before shutting off his microphone with a click.
For eight minutes until the helicopter showed up, Daniel didn't have much to do other than sit rock back and forth on the waves. The diver from the helicopter scared him when he smacked the window as an indication of the helicopter's arrival, and the ride suspended underneath the helicopter was nice and peaceful. There was a thump when he was deposited on the deck of the Escort Carrier Neska, and signaling to a tech peering in the window to move everyone back, he pulled the handle on the hatch and watched it blow itself free of the capsule and land on the deck a few feet away. A young petty officer was first to stick his head in the capsule and unstrap Aspari from his seat.
"Good to have you back, Sir."
"Good to be back. Did I miss anything good?"
"Only the first Casaran in Space."
"I'll be kicking myself over that one."
This post has been edited by Casari on Sep 27 2006, 12:01 AM |
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Podskiya Base Medical Center (Building 19)
2:14pm, 26 January 1507
"So, Doctor, how is he doing?" Head of Astronauts Tyler Corvalo said, sitting in a chair in the Doctor's office in the base medical center.
"Well, Mr. Herali happens to be reexperiencing lunch right now." Dr. Ritazzo said, sitting down on the other side of the desk. "He's got the flu. He'll be over it in a week. Sadly, that means he'll miss the launch window by four days."
Corvalo sighed. "Well, it looks like we're going to have to push the launch back."
Keith Coliar appeared at the door. "We don't have time to push the launch back now. It's either we get it done, or we have to wait until the end of February or the beginning of March. And that means the rocket would have to come off the pad, be taken back inside the assembly building, rolled back out to the pad again, loaded with new fuel, and launched. That's a good one hundred million selari operation."
"Well, we could always send up Escarez, but we didn't want to have to fall back on a backup pilot this early."
"Oh please, that's what they're there for."
"We don't have anything ready-"
"I don't care. It has to fly in three days. She knows what to do up there, get the damn thing done."
"Yes, Director." Carvalo said, sighing.
Environmental Simulation Lab (Building 9)
2:51pm, 26 January 1507
"Damn, you guys, you don't know what the hell you're doing, do you?" Mina Escarez said, fighting with the spacesuit.
"Why, what's wrong with it?" Adam Pedrosa said, letting out an audible sigh.
"The legs are different lengths, for god sakes. And the chest is too tight."
"What do you mean, the legs are different lengths. They can't be."
"I'm telling you they are." Escarez said, shaking her head. "Thank god I don't have to use this in three days. Otherwise you'd all be boned." She said as Pedrosa leaned down and looked at the legs.
"... this isn't even your boot. That's why."
"Oh, fantastic, we can't even get me the right damn boot." Escarez said as Pedrosa began messing around with the locking ring. At the same moment, another engineer ran into the room.
"We have a problem." he said flatly, making himself an obvious target for Escarez's irritation.
"Well, what the hell is it?" She said, tapping her now-unbooted foot.
"Herali's got the flu."
"... he's got the flu."
"Yes, he has the flu."
"So, what you're telling me is that we can't find my other boot, and I have to fly the spacecraft in three days?"
"Exactly."
Escarez took a deep breath. "Well, that gives a few much better reasons to panic."
"They don't even want you here anymore, they want you over at the simulation lab."
"Oh, fantastic. Tell Adam I'll be back for the boot later, I have to get out of this damn thing."
Launch Pad 9, Level 5, Capsule Entry Room
1:18pm, 29 January 1507
"This is spectacular, flying a spaceship when I've had fourteen hours of sleep in the last three nights."
"Oh, just get in the damn ship." One of the pad techs said, laughing. "You only have a thirty percent chance or so of going up today anyway."
"Yeah, yeah. You know nothing's worth doing if you can't complain about it." Escarez said, leaning back to get in the hatch. With a little help, she managed to get in without flipping any of the important switches and settled into the seat.
*aurora this is control - can we get a communications check*
"Check that, I read you five-by-five."
*roger that - only about a fourth percet change today of going - you might be able to get out of there and get some sleep*
"Oh, I wish."
*were about to close the hatch door - stand by*
"Yup, standing by." Escarez said, looking down at her feet. On top of both, in big black letters, someone wrote "These are your boots." with a pen.
"Oh, I bet those guys thought that would be a damn laugh riot." |
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Space Mission Control Center
2:41pm, 29 January 1507
While the rocket made it's way into space and left the capsule floating in orbit over 150 miles up, the crew at Mission Control had a much more difficult job to take care of.
"Aurora, this is Mission Control, please respond." Dino Eroanapolis said, gently spinning his office chair back and forth.
"I don't know what could be wrong, we're still getting transmissions. The capsule is fine." One of the techs said, scratching his head.
"... Well, why wouldn't she be saying anything?" Karr asked, looking around.
"Her vital signs are perfectly fine." The surgeon said, walking over and leaning against another console."
"Could it be the voice loop?" Karr said, looking around for a communications tech.
"No, we had it run a test signal, that's working fine."
Dino laughed. "Knowing her, she's probably asleep in the capsule."
"What do you mean, she could be asleep in the capsule? The bloody thing just launched." Karr said, blinking in disbelief.
"Well, she's massively sleep deprived. We're supposed to get ten hours before launch. She got fourteen hours in three days. We didn't talk to her much on the pad after she gave us the last go. That helmet is pretty heavily padded, and a lot of the stuff is on rubber mounts to reduce the vibration shaking things loose."
"What are you getting at, then?"
"It's a lot more quiet than you'd think in that capsule. She could have fallen asleep."
"... Turn on the master alarm." Karr said, looking at one of the computer techs.
"Sir?"
"Turn on the master alarm, that's piped directly into the helmet."
The tech shrugged and flipped a switch. The surgeon had begun to speak when seeing the heart rate spike, but he was quickly silenced by a voice coming through the speaker.
*ahhh mission control theres something wrong up here - theres lights on all over the place*
Dino started laughing and tried to calm Escarez down while Karr looked at the tech and raised an eyebrow. "What exactly did you do?"
"Did a test of the alarm system. Sets off every light and alarm in the capsule."
"Hahaha, I love it. Okay, Dino, tell her to set up the capsule for orbit, yell at her a bit for nodding off, and let's get this thing rolling." Karr said, taking off his headset. "I need a drink."
*you know - are you sure i cant get a nap or something in for about ten or fifteen minutes*
Dino snickered. "Hell, you've caused enough people to crap themselves down here already. We don't need you screwing up the plans any worse."
*itd be really awful if say - some of these experiments were bungled because you sent up someone on no sleep*
"And it'd be even more awful if someone fell asleep and missed the landing zone and was stuck in a phone booth for a day floating in the ocean because she couldn't stay awake.'
*-- can i at least get some coffee*
"We'll see what we can do." |
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