You brave sol joiners hurtling through that blackness of the unknown in the hopes of preserving something of our race have the thanks and well wishes of not only myself and the staff here, but those of a grateful planet as well.” He surveyed the room once more, all of those sitting before him bore a glimmer of fear on their faces, and that he thought was good. Still there had been so much disagreement over the validity of this project. To send those still of healthy limb and mind into space on this mission had been declared by one overseer as sheer insanity. Others claimed that the hour had grown too late to do anything to alter the situation in their favor.
In the end a grudging consensus had been reached. Things were getting worse and by this point the die, as they used to say in the grand old days, had been cast. If in some small part though they could save piece however minute, then that alone could justify, any and all efforts made.
It wouldn’t matter to himself anyway, the cellular degeneration had progressed to the point where his life had only days remaining. He might see them launch, but he’d resigned himself to already knowing their fates, let him bare the weight of that knowledge alone while there remained also the light of hope in them.
“Very well, if there are no questions about what will occur in the next few days then I bid you good luck, and as they once said when launches were common place, god speed.”
Those remaining days were filled by a flurry of activity. Briefings, systems tests, flight checks, but the tedium between periods of chaos had been the worst.
The morning of the launch finally arrived, and a member of flight control had come for a final, final briefing and to explain how to properly fit into the astronaut’s suit. An older man she supposed, probably in his mid sixties, and wrinkling badly. He had a friendly enough smile though.
She hadn’t been nervous until that moment, a nagging feeling started in the pit of her stomach. Her rational mind tried in vein to grasp and strangle the intangible fear now growing in strength.
The technician spoke with an even voice that seemed to make all the important details of the launch simple things requiring little concern. It is a mostly automated system. Her own inner voice counseled, and that was true. The whole training program had lasted only a couple of weeks in duration, and that had been mostly drills regarding the control surfaces, and what to do in emergency situations.
A strange question popped into her head, “Excuse me sir, but I don’t believe the flight crew were shown the sleeping quarters.”
For the briefest of moments he paused as if he were considering what he was going to say. “Of course, we are sorry about that. Our launch window is as you may know, (she didn’t) very small and in order to facilitate getting you, and the rest of the crew up there we’ve had to omit some of the smaller details.
Her expression must have shown some doubt but his smile only seemed to broaden. “You must not worry about such things; you’ve been taught everything you’ll need to complete the mission. Besides your dom on the ship is very similar to this one, except maybe a bit smaller, and the quarters themselves are located roughly mid-ship and are impossible to miss.”
That helped relax her some, but that nagging doubt did not completely disappear and before she could peruse the matter any further the technician with the warm smile and wrinkled face had changed the subject to the space suit. He showed how put the suit on, it differed quite a bit from the normal clothes she wore. Instead of separate pieces, it was a simple jumpsuit that felt thin almost more like what her grans had described as paper and less like normal fabric, and ended in attached boots with rubberized soles.
“You’ll want to be sure you use the restroom, and avoid any food or drink before you suit up and report for the launch, easier on the transfer system they say.” He said.
Emily laughed, and even to her it sounded anxious, “That shouldn’t be problem, I don’t think that I’ll be able to eat anything until after the launch.” She paused catching on something said, during the training they had been told about the different systems involved in the launch and subsequent travel. “What transfer system?”
“Oh, the transfer system is the system that governs how the ship operates between the initial launch phase, and the later flight phase.”
He went on a few more moments before standing, “Mission specialist Colgate, you and the others are heroes. You have my thanks and gratitude, bonnie voyage, and safe travels to you all.”
She returned the gesture, though to her it hadn’t seemed as neat as his. He turned and started to leave when he stopped, “take off is in three hours, and you’ll need to report in two. You wouldn’t want to miss your appointment with destiny would?” He offered this last with that warm, but somehow sad smile.
She nodded, “no of course not.”
Then he was gone again. The hour that followed dragged on mercilessly as if knowing it were forestalling the biggest day in her life. She momentarily considered that if a single hour of nothingness irritated her, then a lifetime of space travel might be a bad idea. Emily quickly banished the thought; the time for changing her mind had come and gone long ago. Besides she liked the sound of Mission specialist Emily Colgate.
That hour finally elapsed, and before that final minute ticked by Emily had already packed her mission gear, and was pacing the floor. She was ready to go, the doubt she’d felt before still remained but it had dwindled to a single small point at the very bottom of her stomach. Over the hour it had been replaced by the growing excitement of becoming a shinning example of her people.
As she arrived in launch command and sat the launch briefing began, but no one sat down.
For over an hour they were regaled with much of what they’d heard before, and that had been followed by what they would and could expect during the launch. With the ship fueled and configured for the present number of personnel, and the mission plan set and readied. It was time to go.
Following the briefing the crew was asked to follow their crew technicians for final prep, the staging areas were little more than set off closets offering no place to sit. Instead the tech worked around their charges brushing on a yellowish gel onto the paper like suit. The odor coming off it made Emily’s eyes burn sending heavy tears rolling down her cheeks.
The tech from before returned smiling as he’d done when showing her how to wear the suit noticed her dampened face. “Nervous?”
“Actually no, not at all.” She lied.
“Ah the resin then, well don’t worry too much about that. I’m sure that the others are all having the tears too, even the biggest man does.”
“What is the resin for?” She asked. Her voice sounded shaky even to her own ears.
“The resin?” He said pausing. “Well I was told that it would help the integrity of the suit. How it was explained to me was this, the resin will remain in a sort of semi-solid suspension until the roughest phase of the launch where it will then harden to best protect the suit and it’s wearer.”
“Oh, well, that’s good.”
“Yeah I should think so.” He said. Afterward neither one spoke, almost as like the air were simply too heavy to bother. As if summoned up by their thoughts the ventilation system for the little room cranked on pulling on the languid air, and by the time the tech, a man who in his personal time was more accustomed to wearing a favored if not faded red tee shirt and equally faded denim overalls, had made his final brush strokes as if he had finished painting a master piece when the air in the room had cleared of the resin’s eye watering vapor.
“Well that should just about do it.” He said. Sealing up his resin container and wrapping up the brush.
Emily only nodded, not trusting her voice. She watched him stand, stepped aside allowing her room to pass him and back into the passage way that would lead her to the rocket.
For a moment she just stood, looking out. Before she could lose herself in that moment she felt the brushing of the back of the tech’s hand on her face. His warm
smile welcomed her back to reality. His eyes must have continued to water even after the venting system had activated, a tear had escaped and ran down a furrow formed by a particularly heavy wrinkle.
Her skin where his hand had brushed remained warm, and that feeling slipped all through her, claiming her. They both knew it was time to go. She made her way to the lift that would carry her to the boarding entrance.
In the launch building on the other end of the complex two dozen people stood, or sat behind a multitude of monitors. A layer of haze clung near the ceiling, despite a complete lack of ash trays, or cigarettes.
Harold Childes had known that the ventilators were in bad shape, but the latest reports had promised that they should have continued on at least through the launch. He mentally shrugged. It really didn’t matter anymore; so long as it didn’t interfere with his launch.
He hated everything about this project; from start to finish it had carried the stink of something dead and rotten, but again at this point though he supposed it didn’t matter. He’d been tapped for the project because of both his time spent in the old NASA, (pronounced NA-sa) archives and his