Rocket Girls: The Last Planet

by Housuke Nojiri

  “However, going up against five girls in the prime of their youth—that’s tough competition.”

  “Absolutely. Looks aside, the biggest problem here is that there are already five of them,” Nasuda said. “Really, we should have a main team and a backup team by now. If we’re running with a two-person orbiter, we need at least four astronauts. If we’ve got a three-seater, I’d want at least six. And all we have is two. No wonder NASA doesn’t trust us. If one of our astronauts caught a cold, our launch would be delayed.”

  “So you want numbers over quality, is that it?” Satsuki asked.

  “Honestly, yes. I mean, even in the worst-case scenario, if Akane did pass out, one of the others could wake her up, couldn’t they?”

  “Well I’m against it! Even if we do have a three-seat orbiter, the majority of our launches will be with only two astronauts. If we’re forced to rely on a sole astronaut during the most critical moments of takeoff and reentry because the other one is out cold, NASA will never trust us.”

  “Not if they don’t know about it.”

  “Director!”

  “Now now, Doctor—”

  “Even if we disregard the issue of trust, we’re talking about safety!” Satsuki slammed the table with her fists. “Imagine what would happen if those girls died? That is what I’m talking about when I say ‘safety,’ sir!”

  The room was silent. After a few moments passed, Mukai spoke. “Satsuki, I think that goes without saying—”

  “Apparently it doesn’t.”

  “No. Everyone here knows that lives are on the line. But if we were to require one hundred percent safety before a launch, we’d never get off the ground. What we’re all trying our very hardest to do here is to find an appropriate compromise between safety on one hand and the economic realities of the space industry on the other.”

  Satsuki turned to Mukai. “So you think that it’s all right if one of them faints during liftoff?”

  “I’m not saying that. But there are over two thousand sensors and a multitasking computer checking for abnormalities every millisecond of takeoff, as well as a fully automatic mechanism to separate the orbiter from the rest of the rocket. We can also remotely control much of the rocket from ground-based systems. Only when all of this fails is pilot action required.”

  “And yet it seems that every time we launch, our astronauts are surviving only by the skin of their teeth.”

  “Let me put it another way. If something truly catastrophic were to happen, like if the booster were to explode, then no number of safety measures and no amount of pilot skill would help them one bit. If we’re going to let worry about that paralyze us, we need to scrap the program entirely. As an engineer, the only way I can sleep at night is because I know that we are doing everything we can here, on the ground, to prevent a worst-case scenario. We’ve had small difficulties with every launch, it’s true, but no big accidents as of yet, right?”

  Satsuki pondered the young technician’s words.

  “All right. I’m sorry for bringing up death. It just seemed like the elephant in the room. I understand what you’re saying, but as the person ultimately responsible for the human factor in this equation, I cannot condone hiring Akane. My decision is final.”

  “What if we thought about it like this,” Kinoshita offered. “It’s true that the greatest risk on a flight comes with the launch and the reentry, but this only accounts for two percent of total flight time. And there’s plenty of danger while in orbit.”

  “Your point?”

  “Well, when I think about our easily excitable Yukari and our utterly unpredictable Matsuri, I can’t help but think that a girl like Akane is the perfect complement to them. I think we could safely say that having her on board would dramatically improve safety for at least ninety-eight percent of the mission.”

  “So you want to hire her too?”

  Kinoshita chuckled wryly. “This is outside my area of expertise as a physicist, but it’s my impression that this girl makes up for in intellect what she lacks in physical strength. Here’s my suggestion: we let her do a make-up test, except this time, we test her overall aptitude. Then we decide. How about it?”

  “What exactly do you mean by an overall aptitude test?”

  “Well…”

  Kinoshita briefly explained what he was thinking.

  “You’re going to do that to her?” Satsuki was aghast.

  “Yes. Completely solo. No support.”

  “She won’t make it. Yukari was in pretty good shape, but who knows what would have happened to her if she hadn’t run into Matsuri?”

  “Well, we won’t know that until we try, will we? If she passes, will you give her the okay, Satsuki?”

  “I suppose I could take it under consideration.”

  “How about you, Director?”

  “I suppose we could give it a shot.” Then, Nasuda added, “Of course, it’s going to be tricky to ensure she’s completely without support.”

  [ACT 8]

  “KNOCK KNOCK! GOOD morning, Akane!”

  “Hoi, Akane! Wake-up time!”

  For the past two days, Yukari and Matsuri had come each morning to Akane’s room to take her to breakfast. She was always ready to go when they got there—except for today.

  “Hoi? I don’t think she’s here.”

  “Akane? We’re coming in.”

  Yukari turned the knob. It wasn’t locked.

  The room was completely empty. No suitcase, no jacket hanging on the wall, and no books on the desk. The bed showed no signs of having been slept in.

  Yukari quickly ran back to the hallway and checked the number on the door. Room 201. This was the place.

  The two girls went downstairs to the concierge. “Did Akane move to a different room?”

  “Who? Miss Miura? Oh, you hadn’t heard? She left yesterday.”

  “What do you mean ‘left’?”

  “I was told she was going back to Japan so she wouldn’t be needing her room after yesterday.”

  “What? You mean she left without telling us?”

  “That’s odd. Didn’t you three get along well? I wonder why she would have done that.”

  The concierge here made up for having no work to do by being nosy. Yukari left without another word. She went straight for the training center. Up the stairs, she found the door with the plate reading SPACE BIOLOGY LAB and went in without knocking.

  Satsuki Asahikawa was inside, sitting in front of a tray with some toast and tomato juice on it, reading a trade magazine of some sort.

  “Satsuki?”

  “Yukari! Good morning.”

  “Is it true that Akane went back to Japan?”

  “What? You didn’t know? Yes, she went home yesterday.”

  “You mean, she failed the test.”

  Satsuki set down her magazine and shifted in her chair. “Unfortunately, yes. You were there, were you not? Someone who faints at 4 G just can’t be an astronaut.”

  “But she could have gotten better with training!”

  “Don’t look at me like that. The testing is used to determine aptitude—the scope of a person’s abilities at the present moment. Not in some hypothetical future.”

  “That may be, but she came all this way, she even quit school, and we just send her home?”

  “Believe me, I didn’t want to do it. But the job requires more than just dedication and enthusiasm,” Satsuki said. “This is really the best for her, and for you and Matsuri. Please understand.”

  Yukari knew that laying this on Satsuki would get her nowhere, but it was still hard to accept. “Why did she leave without saying a word?”

  “She was probably too embarrassed.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you were the one who recommended her. In a sense, she failed you.”

  “She did nothing of the sort!” Yukari shouted. “I was the one who dragged her here! I was the one who told her she’d be hired in an instant, no problem. And she believed me. That’
s why she came. It’s not her fault at all. It’s mine!”

  A fleck of spittle shot from Yukari’s mouth and landed in Satsuki’s glass of tomato juice, sending ripples across the surface. Satsuki held up her hands. “Okay, okay. I get it.”

  “It was my fault.” Yukari’s voice sounded strained.

  “I understand.”

  “I thought she could help out. I thought she was a good fit. That’s why I invited her.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that approach. Nothing at all,” Satsuki said.

  “And she was fine in the helicopter. She didn’t get sick or faint.”

  “People get carsick for any number of reasons.”

  “And you should’ve seen the look in her eyes when I invited her to go up with me.”

  “Yukari—”

  “I told her I wanted to show her the world from above. How beautiful it was.”

  “Yukari,” Satsuki said, her voice gentle, “enough.” Satsuki stood and walked over to Yukari’s side. She pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the tears off her cheek.

  “I don’t even know why I’m crying,” Yukari said with a sniffle.

  “It’s okay.” She tapped Yukari lightly on the shoulder. “Here, have a seat.”

  Yukari sat down on a nearby bench.

  “Look. She may have failed this time, but I think there’s a possibility for a second chance. She’s much more of a fighter than she seems at first.”

  Yukari rubbed her eyes with both hands and cried a bit more.

  Satsuki watched her quietly.

  At length, Yukari spoke. “Satsuki?”

  “Yes?”

  “Could you give me Akane’s telephone number?”

  “Her telephone number?”

  “I want to call her and apologize.”

  “But you don’t have anything to apologize for—”

  “I don’t want her to think it’s her fault!”

  “All right, all right.” Satsuki thought for a second, then said, “You know…I don’t think I ever asked for her phone number.”

  “What? Didn’t she have to fill out any medical forms or anything?”

  “That’s the thing—I was thinking of doing that when she got hired.”

  “You don’t have her address?”

  “Not even that.”

  “I guess I could always dial information.”

  “Look, Yukari. I’m sure she’s not home yet anyway. And maybe you want to wait a little while in any case. Give her a week at least.”

  “Why?”

  “You both have a lot on your mind right now. You should let things settle a bit first. Then talk.”

  “You think?”

  “Yes. Absolutely! That’s my opinion as a doctor.”

  “Okay, then. That’s what I’ll do.”

  Yukari nodded, blew her nose, and went back out the door, leaving Satsuki to breathe a deep sigh of relief.

  [ACT 9]

  SUNDAY, SIX DAYS later.

  With SSA rockets going up monthly, both the ground crew and astronauts rarely had a moment to breathe, but today was a rare pause from work for everybody.

  Matsuri was decked out from head to toe in tribal garb—a bit misleading, since that tribal garb comprised little more than a bikini, and a small one at that.

  What she lacked in skin coverage, though, she made up for with tropical bling: necklaces, bracelets, anklets—she had the works. Most were made from local flora and fauna, such as palm fronds, rattan fibers, exquisite seashells, and the fangs of small animals, but here and there could be spotted a stray bolt or washer she had picked up on base, or strips of glittery fabric cut from a thermal blanket. Each piece played a role in the local brand of magic, but clearly there was some flexibility in the tradition when it came to materials.

  Most Taliho dressed far more austerely, but Matsuri was special. She had been tapped to be the next shaman of the tribe. She strode out through the main gate, a spear in her right hand and a woven hemp satchel in her left.

  “Hey there, Matsuri,” the guard called out to her. “Where are you headed?”

  “To the northern jungle to gather irippe nuts. Might find a durian too, if I’m lucky.”

  “I’m afraid the jungle is off-limits right now.”

  “Hoi? The whole jungle? Why?”

  “Security is doing live ammo training.”

  “But it’s been nine years since we’ve been able to gather nuts in the north. I have to go now.”

  “Sorry, but off-limits is off-limits.”

  Matsuri frowned and walked over to the guard. She looked at him with her black eyes, like a cat’s. She looked through him.

  The guard’s expression softened.

  “Bullets won’t hit me,” Matsuri whispered.

  “…Bullets won’t hit you.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “…You’ll be fine.”

  “Open the gates.”

  “On it.”

  The guard pressed the large red button and the striped bar across the road lifted.

  Matsuri grinned and walked through.

  The Solomon Space Center had been built on several square kilometers of flat land carved out of the jungle on the eastern edge of the island.

  Through the gate, the unpaved road was quickly swallowed by jungle. To the southwest, the jungle rose, becoming the jagged ridgeline of the Shiribas Range.

  The dangers of these tropical jungles, be it the blistering heat, fanged beasts and giant snakes, malaria, or cannibals, were often exaggerated to near mythical heights. In truth, it did get hot and steamy between the trees at times, but the ick-factor was really no different from what one might feel during the rainy season in Japan. There were hardly any large animals, and all cannibalism had been stamped out by missionaries years ago. Nor did healthy people who had been properly inoculated need to worry much about malaria.

  Though there was a constant struggle between the plants of the forest for nutrients and sunlight, the front lines in that battle were in the canopy. Hardly anything of size grew on the dimly lit jungle floor. The main barrier to getting around for anyone who hadn’t grown up here was the thick tangle of low-lying broadleaf shrubs. Most of the shrubs sent out roots that popped up from the forest floor like shark fins, crisscrossing in all directions. The layered roots and vines, and fallen trees that lay like small mountains covered in moss, all served to restrict vision and slow travel by foot to a crawl.

  Most of a traveler’s energy was spent clambering up and down the various obstacles. Without a clear view of one’s surroundings, it was impossible to avoid the natural barriers and barricades, and often inexperienced adventurers would find themselves at a dead end and forced to turn back. The experience could be so disheartening that, as the traveler’s exhaustion deepened, some gave up trying to find a route, and instead lay down and simply wasted away.

  A short distance down the road, Matsuri made a right angle and stepped into the forest. She continued walking, weaving between the trees, her pace no slower than it had been on the open road. She walked like a cat, making not a sound, stirring not a leaf. It was almost as if she swam through the foliage, so at home did she seem there.

  It was nearing noon when she reached her destination.

  “Hoi!” she exclaimed in a reverent whisper. “Beautiful!”

  An endless stream of small nuts fell from the canopy, twirling in the air as they made their way to the forest floor. When they crossed the path of the few sunbeams that penetrated the canopy, they glittered and sparkled in the air.

  On the ground, the brownish winged nuts looked like badminton shuttlecocks. Matsuri knelt to pick some of them up. She removed and discarded the wings, leaving only the nut, which she placed in her satchel. The nuts lay strewn about everywhere. Matsuri barely had to move in order to keep gathering. The more nuts she picked up, the more came twirling down.

  Irippe nuts were very rich in oil and one of Matsuri’s favorite foods. Yet they flowered so rarely—only o
nce every several years, and sometimes not for decades—that if you weren’t careful, you might miss them altogether. The Taliho called these times when the irippe fell “nut years” because for various ecological reasons, it wasn’t just one or two trees that decided to bloom in a year, it was all of them in the area.

  The last nut year had been when Matsuri was only seven, but she still hadn’t forgotten it. Even when the squirrel population boomed and they ate the lion’s share of the nuts, the rejoicing of the villagers had gone on largely unabated. Matsuri had kept a sharp eye out whenever their orbiter passed over the island, looking for those specks of light color—the blooming flowers—among the deep green of the canopy.

  When Matsuri’s satchel was half full of nuts, she left the area.

  The sun’s still high. Maybe I’ll go up the ridge a ways and look for some other fruit.

  I might even find that durian.

  She could practically taste the durian’s sweet-and-sour milk already. If she had any trouble finding it, the bats and orangutan trails would point her in the right direction, and the effort would be worth it. Durian were few and far between. They weren’t the only thing she was after, however. A nice jackfruit, or some figs, or the red fruit of the rambutan—any one of these would hit the spot. They were all delicious. Thoughts of culinary delights drifted through her head, and Matsuri’s pace quickened.

  Occasionally, she would stop and look up a tree. When she found a fruit, she shimmied up and plucked it. Whenever branch conditions dictated that she couldn’t use both hands, she would knock the fruit off its branch and collect it from the ground. Several of them she ate on the spot.

  Her bag was full, and Matsuri was about to head home when she detected something—a foreign smell in the jungle. She stopped.

  Smells like…insect repellent.

  Could it be someone from space? An anthropologist, perhaps? Someone in jungle development?

  Matsuri’s nose twitched and she followed the trail of the scent.

  She had only walked a short while when she spotted something orange in the underbrush.