He noticed a sun-roof or moon-roof—whatever it may be called—above his head. A black chopper whipped the air overheard, and looked to be landing in a spot next to the white rocket. High intensity lights were posted all around like cannons on an old military fort, illuminating the metal platform leading up to the front seat. A cockpit reserved for the American elite.
Our rover neared closer to a garage bay as the chopper died down and the bald man with the eye patch stepped out on the tarmac in his fluffy orange suit. The look on his face was determination. He walked over and waited under the high dome of the garage.
The engines of the rover died down, and the display told them to exit the vehicle to their right
“Thank you for riding on LunAucity XCursions,” the screen in the dashboard announced, and the doors popped open.
We shuffled outside, and were standing on the ground under the metal roof of the garage bay when the bald guy finally introduced himself.
“Welcome to LunAucity XCursion number fifty-seven,” he said sternly, and looked them over with his one good eye, of which never seemed to blink. “My name is Captain Donald Eastbrook and I am your guide for this space mission.”
“Now, most of the basics you should know from the safety videos, but that’s only theory and in Space, things become…shall we say, a little more ambiguous. And that’s why I’m going with all of you. Think of me as the insurance policy. Counting tonight’s mission, I’ve been to the lunar surface eighteen times and to space more times than I can count, or even remember now.”
He walked over closer to the assembled group and examined their suits one by one, looking each of them over very slowly and deliberately, talking all the while as he did this little trot around them.
“I’ve got about thirteen minutes to go over some pertinent information with my crew, which means all of you standing here in front of me tonight. Right now, you must decide if you want to hand your lives over to Captain Don. ‘Cuz when we buckle our tangerine looking asses in that shuttle three-hundred feet above us, there is no turning back. This isn’t a fuckin pony ride at the county fair, sorry to break anyone’s heart if you thought it was.”
“So now let me breakdown what’s going to happen when those colossal engines fire and we are burning up the clear moonshine in the tank. It all happens so quickly, you won’t think to ask what happened when we make it to the rendezvous point with the command module and the supplies for the people already up there.”
He started walking off towards the door at the foot of the rocket base, motioning for them to follow in line behind him. They did and caught up inside the building that felt heavily air-conditioned, like a morgue.
Captain Don was standing by the open doors of a scantly designed construction elevator. Aluminum plating was tacked to the floor and walls, not polished ever in its lifetime here. The crew hovered around the doors like a lost group of pigeons, only dressed like inmates and quickly headed for the dark confines of Outer Space. There was a feeling in the air. Just nervous tension, Crass thought. It was that, and a very strong curiosity to see what awaited them out there beyond their own livable habitat.
Captain Don pulled the metal gates together and leaned over to press a button on the panel to his right. He continued talking about space and the ongoing construction efforts on the Moon, laughing sometimes while telling stories about the earlier flights and some of the mishaps and funny accidents that had happened.
“It’s wild up there,” he said, leaning on the dirty wall of the elevator. “You’ll see it for yourselves soon enough. To wake up on the Moon and look out your bedroom window at the Blue Planet, all of Mother Earth in her collected splendor…it’s a lot to take in. But I think you’ll love it.”
He was looking out at the lights of the mansion spilling out into the dark Atlantic waters. The elevator was still ascending on steel cables towards the top.
Eva, Mickey, Skye, and the others (teenagers?) all looked placid, their faces pulled tight. Captain Don had the floor and continued counting us down to launch. Air rushed up through the elevator shaft, and below, vapor clouds dispersed quietly from the bottom of the booster tank and disappeared into the night.
Some of the lights were green around the ship. Another white light illuminated the decals on the side of the massive white hull. There was a dark painting of a swift bird swooping down towards something on the aluminum shell and Crass noticed large stenciled letters running with the vertical inclination of the flying apparatus. He caught RINE, he thought.
“You’ll fall in love with the Earth again,” the Captain said. “And if you’re lucky, they might be looking for any dedicated personnel who would be interested in a securing a job there. The pay is good. I’ve even heard of a few entrepreneurs offering big bucks to anyone who can operate successfully on the lunar surface for two weeks at a time. They’re trying to bring entertainment out into Space and the Moon is the first logical base for further operations. We’re building there, can live there for weeks at a time, and mining operations are beginning to get underway.”
He looked out over the water, never ceasing to talk it seemed. Crass caught what he could of it, and was genuinely intrigued by a few key notes. He was excited as hell about this trip he’d taken. It wasn’t so long ago, he was only just thinking about buying the ticket with his savings of Bitcoins—his virtual tokens in the World Wide piggy bank of the world.
“Remember to breathe deeply,” the Captain said. “Slow and calculated breaths of air will save the onboard oxygen supply by thirty percent if we all try to do our part. I’m not saying we’re going to run out, but we’re going to Outer Space and oxygen is mandatory, vital for life. And unfortunately, we can’t operate up there without it yet.”
He continued: “As it turns out, we’re still human beings after all. Just off burning up millions of dollars of rocket fuel so we can say we were the first people there. The first country to send men there, stick their flag in the grey dust, and dance around like it was 1999. On the fucking Moon, and filmed and broadcasted for the entire world to see.”
“America is a badass,” Mickey said from the back of the crowd. Everyone agreed and the elevator came to a stop.
Captain Don pulled the latch and separated the aluminum doors, revealing a fifteen-foot gangway or bridge leading to a white cabin door that was turned, pivoted 180 degrees on its axis. Aluminum grating ran under their feet and handrails were installed to protect travelers from any high wind gusts. Crass looked west, and saw an orange buoy flickering a green light on and off again in the black darkness of the night.
“Bigger people should climb in first, followed by the skinnier people in the front,” the Captain said, opening the hatch and propping it open with a small metal kickstand attached nearby. “We’ll balance it out once we’re inside the cabin.”
“Ok, people,” he said, continuing on. “We’ve got another eight minutes till the Peregrine I is in the air. Let’s move it. Hustle, Hustle.”
The teenagers climbed into the cabin with Mickey’s help. Next came Skye, then Eva, and then Crass, Mickey, and ending with Captain Don, who climbed behind the dashboard of the cockpit. He climbed in his seat and pulled down a large screen from above his head. The display came to life with a colorful assortment of computerized controls. He touched the screen in various places, working the instrument panel with the touch of his hand. Nearby comes the light squawk of the radio.
“Fuel systems are looking good, Jim. Go Flight.”
“Roger, roger. How’s Guidance?”
“Guidance is green. Go Flight.”
“10-4. Innsmouth Base to Peregrine I. How’s it looking up there Cap?”
Captain Don was working, setting up the computer with fast movements of his hands.
Crass hopped in the seat beside Eva (on his right) and Skye (left) while Mickey took the outmost seat. The teenagers were snickering and taking photos for their Facesnap senior projects, of this Crass had no doubt. He’d seen their digitized T-shi
rts before the change of outfits. Class of 2031 it read in the photographs on the sleeves and back, a walking memory bank plastered across the shifting cotton.
Eva grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly. Captain Don had found the radio and was confirming all was good to roll on the Peregrine I.
“Roger captain. Bucklers are coming onboard, over.”
Three workers in white outfits climbed through the open hatch, each of their heads covered with a white apron like a bandanna. They filed in, and began strapping the crew into their seats very tightly, climbing on top of the seats and pulling on the straps with all of their body weight. Next came the space helmets being locked in place.
“Seat one a go,” one of them said, after having tightened Mickey to the seat. Mickey was smiling at Crass, giving him a thumbs up gesture.
“Seat two and three are a go.”
They finished up buckling everyone in, and then walked back to where they come from. They locked the hatch on the way out, and secured the crew inside the capsule.
“ECOM is green, Jim. Go Flight.”
“Booster tank?”
“Booster tank is online. Go Flight.”
“Roger. Innsmouth Base to the Peregrine I. We’re about to disengage the props now. T-minus 1 minute and thirty seconds for shuttle liftoff.”
“Confirm Innsmouth Base,” the Captain said “Computers have locked coordinates with rendezvous point Odyssey. Switching over to fuel cells now.”
He tapped a button on the screen to his right. A sharp metal thud like a hammer falling down a steel well, shot through the large interior of the rocket. The Captain looked up with the crew.
“Fuel pumps,” he said, looking forward at the clear windshield. Stars glittered and glowed on the dark horizon. It felt hot inside the small cabin. It was probably going to get much, much hotter and then hopefully ease off once they made out into the vacuum of Space.
“PLC. Go Flight,” the radio squelched.
“Liftoff in T-minus thirty seconds.”
“Have any of you ever saw one hundred million dollars burn up in less than ten minutes?” the Captain asked, the sound of his voice coming through the headset inside their helmets. Everyone was shaking their heads no.
“Fifteen seconds.”
“We’re all about to witness it,” he said. “Get ready.”
“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six…”
Something louder than one million bulls in a china shop crept up through the interior with increasing veracity.
“Engine 1 ignition. Five, four, three, two, one…”
We were strapped in tightly, feeling the rocket blast off into…
“We have liftoff of the Peregrine I. Repeat, we have ignition and liftoff.”
It felt like we’d lifted off, although it felt more like the hand of God holding out a giant vacuum cleaner from the heavens and sucking us out into Space, at a speed incomprehensible, unheard of. Eva squeezed tighter on Crass’s hand as the rocket shot higher and higher into the dark sky. It felt like someone was stacking bricks on his chest.
“Pitch is looking good, Captain,” someone said from far away. Probably it was Jim at Innsmouth, our guide from the ground.
The onboard computer showed a mock-up image of the rocket and the time left to the next engine burn. We had three seconds left to go on the digital timer.
Two. One.
There was a slight scraping of metal as we dropped the first cluster of engines out into the catacombs of Space. The next burn kicked in with a solid kick in all of our asses, sucking us back into the seats like a black hole that had opened up. The timer on the computer display gave us a little less than six minutes until the third and final stage of the launch would kick in, transporting us over to the service and supply module heading for the Moon.
Crass felt sweat forming high on his forehead, getting ready to run down any given moment now. The rocket moved steadily through the ether, our bodies pitching and rolling in the seats like we were a massé trick shot on a pool table high in the sky.
We were speeding through space so quickly, he had trouble remembering the trip later. It was like the rush of a rollercoaster; moving too fast and too quickly. Processing, a successful run at it, could take multiple trips and hence the famous phrase: “I want to ride that again!”
That was the feeling he was experiencing now. The remaining two-thirds of the rocket propelled them further and further into the vast blanket of Space. The timer was at thirty seconds, and quickly narrowing in on zero as the second engine cluster detached, and the last few engines fired us forward, propelling our alien spacecraft high above the Earth, further out towards the Moon and the other planets.
It seemed like all the answers we’d searched for on Earth were out here somewhere, if only we could locate them and send the news back to the homefront. All would be peachy, copacetic.
Facesnap could alert the entire world in a matter of seconds. Make that milliseconds, nanoseconds even. Suddenly Crass Duvall has become an astronaut. He has status, however bleak and imaginative it may be. The world likes him. It likes this farcical representation of him, though it provided no true merit as to the character of his soul, his being, or individuality.
The last engine burn was timed for two and a half minutes and the clocks rolled forward in Space. When you’re moving on a rocket engine into low Earth orbit (L.E.O. for short), everything moves faster. Captain Don later remarked on the radio that we were about one-hundred and ninety nautical miles above Earth and closing in on our trajectory.
“Peregrine I to Innsmouth base,” he said into his earpiece. “Altitude is looking good. Engine shutdown in thirty seconds. En route to the Odyssey, over.”
“Looking good from down here, Don. Hook up with the Odyssey module and video call us later.”
“10-4 base,” the Captain rang back quickly.
The timer wound down, and the computer alerted us the engine was shutting down as we drifted across the universe, out into Space. Crass heard the engines die down and felt the force behind his back give way some, allowing him to catch his breath again. Eva had her eyes closed, still gripping his hand as she looked up, looking well relieved.
Captain Don told us we could take off our helmets and enjoy the effects of no gravity. We were out in Space now. There was nothing on God’s green Earth to hold us back. Nothing at all. Zilch. Our tethers had been cut the moment we’d bought our tickets. Crass was sure that Atropos, if she’d been here, would have approved, finding it very apropos indeed.
They took off their helmets and let them float around the cabin. It looked like everyone was smiling, and glancing out the windows at the huge Blue Sphere behind us, below us.
“This is the best view ever,” Eva said, gripping a handle on the metal rim of the glass. “Hands down.”
Crass pushed himself through the air of the cabin and towards her. He grabbed the aluminum handle and floated there peacefully, looking down at the blue and green and brown and white that was suspended there like an ornament hung on the Christmas tree every year. It was beautiful and full of life, downright swarming with its vibrant energy.
“You’re right Eva,” Crass said, smiling at her. “Best view ever.”
Earth and gravity were fun, but no gravity and the experience of weightlessness—that was worth it all. We cut flips and Crass sprinkled out a bag of multicolored chocolate candies from his carry-on bag. They were everywhere and everything was beautiful.
Entirely copacetic.
VIII: Connecting Flight
The radio came alive again as they floated around the cabin, eating little chocolates and talking lightly.
“Base to Peregrine I. We’re coming up on twenty minutes flight time. How’s the view, Cap?”
Captain Don turned in mid-float and looked out the porthole.
“Gorgeous,” he said softly. “Getting ready to deploy the solar panels.” He floated back to the screen and touched a button.
The radio squelched back something ind
istinct. What was left of the rocket was flying through Space, on its way to connect with the Odyssey Moon package. Hopefully then, we could all space out and have a little room to ourselves. The command module was starting to look awfully small next to Mother Earth and the great big and wide Universe surrounding it.
Crass grew curious about the ship. Some of the labels on the instruments were in English and others had a foreign appeal, like Japanese or Mandarin.
“Captain Don?” Crass said to the man hanging out by the fold down computer screen. He turned around and looked at Crass floating there.
“Yes sir?” he said with a big smile, holding on to a seat for support.
“Who designed this rocket?” Crass asked with a grin. “And how is it you don’t seem to steer us in any clear direction? How are we sure we’re not floating into a satellite or the International Space Station?”
The Captain pondered over these questions for a moment and then asked what his name was. Crass told him.
“It fits you, doesn’t it?” he asked.
Crass felt that it did and said yes, he thought so.
“The engines and the rockets are all built in America. Boeing or Lockheed Martin takes care of that. All of the technology onboard the vessel is mostly Japanese artisanship, the most advanced computers and electronics, processors, spectrometers, you name it.”
“In 2007, they successfully sent a very advanced orbiter to scope out the Moon for better than a year,” the Captain said, reflecting on the past. “All of that data is stored in our computers. We were able to pinpoint the most ideal places for colonization and water thanks to the Japs.”
“And to answer the question about a possible collision,” he said, looking at Crass. “We have a triple-redundant Dynamic Positioning system that drives this ship by coordinates sent out by the very satellites up here with us. What we’re doing with space travel now is cutting out any element of human error and preserving life at all costs.”
LunaDome: A Novel Page 6