Moonbase Crisis: Star Challengers Book 1 (3 page)
Read Moonbase Crisis: Star Challengers Book 1 Online
Authors: Rebecca Moesta,Kevin J. Anderson,June Scobee Rodgers
Three
“Today, you will go to the Moon.”
Commander Zota addressed them from the front of the room, looking as formal and serious as if he were briefing the Joint Chiefs of Staff in the White House. A close-up of the cratered lunar surface appeared behind him.
Dyl gave a nervous half-laugh. “So we’ll be back for lunch then?”
Simultaneously, JJ said, “I’m in!”
Song-Ye merely said,
“Pfft.
You don’t have to treat us like little kids. We know the difference between pretend and reality.”
King politely raised his hand and waited for Commander Zota to nod at him. “Sir? When I was here with my scout troop, we had eighteen guys to run all the stations, split up between Mission Control and the space simulation. Don’t we need more than just four of us?”
JJ leaned toward him and whispered, “Website says they can fly a mission with only five to a side.” She was disappointed to hear that they were going to run the Moon simulation, which she and Dyl had done with their class a few days ago. She had hoped for one of the other simulated adventures—Space Station, Comet, or Mars. Well, at least she would get more hands-on experience this time. Maybe she’d get to do more than one job.
Zota pressed his hands palm to palm at waist level in a position that seemed to enhance his concentration. “Due to the special nature of this particular mission, I have made some … adjustments to the protocols. You four will be assigned to the moonbase. I will handle operations in Mission Control, once you are on your way.”
JJ nodded slowly.
Good.
This would definitely be different.
“This particular scenario will take place farther in the future,” Zota continued. “Therefore, both the moonbase and Mission Control are more complex than in any mission you’ve done previously. More high-tech, if you will.”
“Oh, I
will,”
Dyl said, rubbing his hands gleefully together. “You’d better believe I will!” He whipped out a pencil and note cards, and started taking notes.
Under his breath, King started humming Frank Sinatra’s “Fly Me to the Moon.”
“What are the job assignments?” JJ asked. She was already familiar with the communications station, but she hoped for something more challenging. She brightened hopefully. “Need a pilot?”
“I’d rather be taking my ballet lesson right now,” Song-Ye said.
“Oh, that may come later,” Commander Zota replied cryptically, and JJ wasn’t sure what he meant. He paced around in front of them, very serious now. “Let me explain what we’re doing here, and why it’s important. Space programs in the United States and around the world have had incredible triumphs that it would take me all day to list, but they have also faced tragedies. In 1967, a terrible fire occurred on the
Apollo 1
launchpad, killing all three astronauts aboard.”
JJ felt as if someone had whacked her in the stomach with a sledgehammer.
A fire.
She had heard of the
Apollo 1
disaster years ago, but hadn’t thought about it since before their father’s death.
A fire!
Her hands clenched into fists, and she forgot how to breathe. She saw Dyl swallow hard and turn pale. He flashed a glance at JJ to see how she was reacting, then looked back down at his index cards and kept taking notes.
JJ told herself to snap out of it. Jet pilots, firefighters, astronauts—all of them knew what they were risking to do their jobs. And that was exactly the type of job she planned to have, so she might as well start accepting the risks right now. She would just have to do her best not to think about fires. She forced herself to relax and start breathing normally, hoping no one but Dyl had noticed.
Zota slowly nodded. “The Challenger Centers were created to honor the brave crew of the space shuttle
Challenger,
which exploded shortly after liftoff in 1986. One of the purposes of the
Challenger
mission was to teach students—from orbit—how valuable space programs really are. Soviet cosmonauts, astronaut trainees, test pilots, pioneers of rocketry … so many people gave their lives to help move the human race forward. Progress is not easy, nor is it free. These people are all heroes, visionaries who saw a better tomorrow and refused to let things stay as they were.
“The Challenger Centers are designed to teach students the importance of pressing forward and striving to do things that haven’t been done before, to look for new frontiers. Explorers and pioneers know that they will face danger and hardship when they set off across new landscapes. But they go anyway—to discover the unknown. What they are doing is crucial, not just for themselves, but for humanity as a whole.
That
is the sort of spirit I need from you cadets today.”
Song-Ye just rolled her eyes, but JJ found the commander’s speech inspirational.
King asked, “You want us to be pioneers?”
“Do we get extra credit?” Dyl quipped.
Zota gave them a faint smile. JJ wondered what the man had seen in his life to make his gray eyes look so ancient. And what had caused his scar? “Bear in mind that you four have a comfortable life because
someone else
took risks or tried something new. They worked hard to make their ideas a reality. The future is
your
choice. You can’t just sit at home and expect someone else to take care of it for you. If we allow ourselves to become too complacent, the human race will not be prepared for crises we might face in the future. The human spirit
needs
challenges. For the sake of our future, humanity needs brave people like you to reach your full potential, and make your lives count.”
After giving them a brief summary of the scenario, Commander Zota said, “For today’s mission, you will all need to double-up on job assignments.” JJ grinned as the commander continued, “At the moonbase, you will be setting up a new solar-power array. There are supplemental missions to use the lunar telescope to perform astronomical readings and to process resources mined from the lunar soil. Because there are so few of you, it is imperative that you cadets learn to work as a team to solve complex problems.”
Dyl sighed. “Don’t tell me—I’ll be the team water boy, right?”
Song-Ye glanced at his note card. “Double-up is hyphenated, Junior.”
Dyl erased something on the card, blushing bright red.
“Each
of you will be given significant responsibility,” Zota said. “Before we continue, I would like to familiarize you with the communications set-up here, since it is similar to the one you’ll find on the moonbase.”
Zota showed them how to activate the comm console, how to select the proper frequencies, and how to speak into the slender microphone pickup or use the headset. JJ was familiar with the basics from her earlier exercise during the field trip, but this seemed even more real—like an actual, working system.
“Also,” the commander pointed out, “the Moon is nearly a quarter of a million miles from Earth, while the speed of our signal—the speed of light—is a mere 186,282 miles per second. Therefore it takes 1.3 seconds for a message to travel from Earth to the Moon, which will produce a noticeable lag when you talk to anyone at Moonbase Magellan.”
“That doesn’t sound like much,” JJ said. “Would you even notice it in a conversation?”
“It does interrupt the flow. Remember that if the person on the other end responds, it takes another 1.3 seconds
after
they speak for their message to reach you. That means it is important to remember to say ‘over’ when you finish what you’re saying, so the other person knows it is safe for them to speak.”
“We’ll remember,” Dyl said. “Over.”
JJ elbowed him.
“If it’s so high-tech, why isn’t the system just voice-activated?” Song-Ye asked.
Mr. Zota considered her question, his face serious. “We have that technology, of course, but only the human mind has the discretion to know which words are important to share, and which are not. It is not necessary—and sometimes not even wise—to transmit every comment.”
“Makes sense,” JJ said. “In the movies
The Right Stuff
and
Apollo 13,
there were plenty of things going on that Mission Control didn’t tell the astronauts about—especially the problems.”
“If there were problems affecting me, I’d rather know about them right away,” Song-Ye argued.
King shrugged. “I saw those movies too. The guys in Mission Control waited until they had a solution to a problem before they turned on the mic to tell the astronauts about it.”
“Most often, the reasons for not turning on the mic are quite simple,” Commander Zota said.
“Right. The people in Mission Control might be talking about what to have for lunch,” King said. “The astronauts wouldn’t need to hear that stuff.”
“Or,” Dyl added, “they might just have to sneeze or burp or make some other embarrassing bodily noise.”
Song-Ye raised both hands in mock surrender, as if someone were holding a gun to her back. “Got it. I withdraw the question!”
After her acquiescence, Commander Zota gestured the Korean girl to take the seat at the comm console. “Now, if you would, Cadet Park, we should be receiving a message from the moonbase right about now. Please make sure we’re ready to receive it.”
Accepting the instructions with a
pfft
sound, Song-Ye bent, flicked a switch and pushed the Receive button. JJ thought she saw a flicker of real interest, maybe even a hint of a smile, on the other girl’s face and wondered how much of the Korean girl’s stick-in-the-mud attitude was just for show.
The comm console became active, and static blasted from the speakers. Dyl quickly reached over to adjust the tuning, as Commander Zota had shown them, and the static resolved into crystal-clear sound. A picture of a woman’s face appeared on the viewscreen above the communication console. She looked young and confident. Behind her was a high-tech room with other stations and several oblong windows that showed a swath of stars and a desolate cratered landscape.
“Cadets, this is Chief Noor Ansari of Moonbase Magellan. Welcome to the moonbase, and thank you for taking part in our Virtual Visitor program.” Her golden-brown eyes seemed to look right through the screen at all of them. Her chestnut brown hair was pulled back to reveal an oval face. Even though it must have been a costume, her blue flight suit looked convincing. JJ noticed, however, that her patch sported a logo that was not NASA.
Since they had seen no one but Commander Zota in the Challenger Center that morning, JJ assumed this “live” message was a recorded video that was used over and over again for student simulations.
“Other than the International Space Station Complex, Moonbase Magellan is the largest modular human habitat ever constructed and used outside of Earth’s atmosphere,” Ansari continued. “The base was built to support up to twelve full-time workers. Our crew is made up entirely of international scientists who volunteer their time. Currently our staff is reduced, but we are managing to meet our mission requirements. It’s a long assignment here, up to a year at a time.”
The moonbase chief seemed disappointed when she mentioned the smaller crew. JJ leaned over and whispered to her brother, “If this were real they’d probably have thousands of volunteers to choose from.
I’d
sure volunteer.”
Onscreen, Noor Ansari continued talking. “Each dedicated volunteer on our crew is responsible for raising enough private funds to support his or her entire stay at this base. That can cost as much as half a million international credits, so you see it’s quite a challenge.”
King gave a silent whistle. “Wonder what that translates to in dollars?”
Song-Ye made a
pfft
sound again. “It’s not real anyway. As in, it’s all Monopoly money.”
“Shh!” Dyl said, scribbling furiously on a note card. “Why did you bother coming here if you’re going to be such a wet blanket?”
The girl huffed. “Because the invitation said this was an important, exclusive event, Juniper. It was a matter of pride.” She looked away, and her arrogance melted for an instant. “And … I am very interested in space.”
On the transmission, Noor Ansari indicated a screen that showed a gray rocky landscape without any sign of plants or animals. It was obviously supposed to be the lunar surface. They saw a rover vehicle rolling toward a fanlike array of mirrored panels that looked like a giant silver sunflower. “Moonbase Magellan gets its power from solar panels, which were manufactured at the International Space Station Complex, or ISSC, then flown here for installation. We are about to increase our energy capabilities by erecting a new solar-power collector.”
Ansari continued, “In my next transmissions, I’ll show you each module of the moonbase. Thank you for tuning in, however many of you are listening. It’s good to know that some people are still interested.” She forced a bright smile. “See you then!”
The screen went dark. JJ leaned forward and searched around the control panel for a button that would start the next segment.
“That’s all the time we have right now,” Commander Zota said. “We need to prepare for your mission.”
“Isn’t
this
our preparation?” Song-Ye asked sharply.
The flight director didn’t take offense. “Certainly, to an extent. But listening to a briefing is different from actual hands-on training. I have a surprise. For the first phase of today’s mission, you will each put on a
real
spacesuit.”
***
Four
JJ, King, Song-Ye, and Dyl went to the changing room mockup, a room that had served as an imaginary shuttle cabin during their school trip. On the earlier mission, students had struggled into jumpsuits while a launch clock counted down. Now JJ saw that for their Saturday mission the jumpsuits had indeed been replaced with full-fledged spacesuits, complete with helmets, boots, and life-support packs, that looked to JJ like futuristic suits of armor.
“No wonder this is a special invitation-only deal,” King said. “They couldn’t possibly get suits like this for all the kids in a class.”
The suits appeared to be brand new. JJ touched one. “Looks like the real thing.”
“It is.” Zota stood at the doorway, regarding them all. “Now, before you suit up, I must give you a more specific safety briefing. Please pay careful attention. Conditions on the Moon are dangerous, so your life may depend on knowing exactly how your spacesuit works.”
Dyl groaned, balancing himself on his crutches. “Another briefing? Aren’t we safe enough already?” Still, he fished a note card and pencil out of his pocket and prepared to take notes.
Tossing her long, dark hair, Song-Ye eyed the disassembled suits. “Why don’t we skip the extra briefing and get to the main event? Let’s get this part over with as fast as we can.”
“What’s the rush?” JJ understood impatience to get to “the good stuff,” but in this case, putting on a real spacesuit
was
good stuff.
“I can only give up a few hours today. My chauffeur will be back for me at one o’clock.”
JJ frowned. “Why? The invitation said 9:00 am to 4:00 pm.”
“I …” The dark-haired girl glanced away, her cheeks turning pink. “I told Winston to come back early, just in case I got bored.”
JJ guessed that as a diplomat’s daughter, Song-Ye must be used to bypassing procedures that everyone else had to follow. Annoyed by the girl’s attitude, JJ imagined how her life must be—free of inconveniences that normal people like Dyl and JJ had to deal with. Song-Ye probably skipped lines at Disneyland, received backstage passes to concerts, sat in box seats for plays and symphony performances, went on private tours after hours in museums.
Commander Zota did not show any favoritism. “You’re part of a team here, young lady, and
all
of you need these safety instructions. You will find the briefing to be well worth the time if your suit integrity is compromised or you run low on oxygen.”
“Let’s all buy into the simulation,” King said, giving Song-Ye a friendly smile. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“We accidentally push her out the airlock?” Dyl said.
Zota raised an eyebrow. “Safety is a serious business. The lunar environment is unimaginably harsh—more so than the most inhospitable place on Earth. Therefore, we use a buddy system. It is a matter of survival. The slightest mistake could kill you, and innumerable precautions must be taken.”
“That’s why pilots and mission personnel use detailed checklists,” JJ said. Whenever she took a flying lesson, their uncle Buzz made her go through every step of the safety inspections to his satisfaction. She had learned quickly that if she wanted to get airborne as fast as possible, she had to do each item on the checklist and do it well. “Our uncle who’s a pilot always says, ‘Skipping the safety checklist is about as smart as skipping breathing.’”
Song-Ye rolled her eyes, but JJ wanted to do this right. She caught her brother’s alert gaze.
“You know me,” Dyl said. “I’m all for safety.”
King spoke for all of them. “We get it, sir. We’ll follow instructions.”
“Very well, then.” The commander turned to the disassembled suits, assessing them. “First we must find suit components to fit you all. You are rather tall Mr. King, but I believe I can accommodate everyone.”
King grinned. He stood a dozen inches taller than Song-Ye, who topped out at five feet. Dyl was slightly taller than the Korean girl (though he looked shorter when using his crutches), while JJ fell halfway between King and Song-Ye in height.
After rummaging around for a bit, Zota began to hand out components. Dyl looked at the bulky pieces in dismay. “You expect me to
walk
wearing this?”
“I’ll help you,” JJ said, though she wondered if her brother could move around in the cumbersome suit.
Zota’s eyes held an odd mixture of concern and mirth when he looked at Dyl. “Trust me, Cadet Wren, once the simulation starts, you will find yourself quite capable.”
Dyl still looked dubious. “No problem, then. I’ll try it.”
JJ knew he would, although a failure would only lower his already fragile self-esteem.
From a set of metal lockers, Zota took four slithery garments that looked like long underwear, as well as a stack of padded, absorbent rectangles with adhesive tabs at the corners. He dangled the long underwear in front of them. “This is your Liquid Cooling and Ventilation Garment, or LCVG. It is a liner that goes between you and the rest of the spacesuit. Its function is to remove the excess body heat you’ll produce as you move and work outside in the lunar environment.”
“That other thing looks like a disposable diaper,” Dyl joked.
Commander Zota raised one eyebrow. “Essentially correct. It is your MAG—Maximum Absorbent Garment—designed to collect an astronaut's urine during lengthy activities outside the moonbase.”
“Ick.” JJ put a hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle. “That’s an acronym for Insanely Cruel Knowledge. ICK.”
“Uh-huh. That MAG thing might take some getting used to,” King said.
Song-Ye was mortified. “Absolutely not. I’ll wait until I can use a real restroom. I’m not wearing a diaper.”
Commander Zota’s keen eyes studied her. His scar darkened. “Is that so, young lady? Consider this: suiting-up properly takes anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour, depending on your proficiency with the suit. Once you begin a project on the lunar surface, I’m sure you’ll agree that it would be impractical to run inside simply for a ‘rest’ break.”
“Just put it on, Song-Ye,” JJ sighed. “Nobody’s going to
make
you use it, but you’ll have it, just in case.”
Dyl laughed. “C’mon—stop whining, put on your big-girl space panties, and show us how long you can hold it.”
Without meeting anyone’s eyes, Song-Ye grabbed a MAG and an LCVG.
Zota gestured toward the doors in the hall. “You may put them on in the restrooms. Once you’ve donned the inner garments, I will fit you with the exterior components of the suits.”
Coming out of the bathroom in her high-tech clothing, JJ felt much more self-conscious than she’d expected about the absorbent garment that fit snugly at her waist and legs. She told herself that the awkward MAG wasn’t really a diaper, but it didn’t help. Back in the main changing room, she found King still adjusting the clingy fabric on his arms and legs. Dyl had managed to dress himself as well and seemed full of excitement.
When Song-Ye finally emerged from the bathroom, she wore an impatient frown along with her clingy suit. “This seems like a lot of trouble just for a simulation.”
“Ah, but you’ve only just begun,” Commander Zota said. “Now, we can suit up in earnest. First, we connect the EMU Electrical Harness, which is called the EEH for short. It’s basically your electronics package. Then we attach the EEH to the Hard Upper Torso, or HUT—a rigid shell that protects you and supports the other components.”
“Lots of acronyms,” JJ remarked.
“Some of the names are just abbreviations, not acronyms,” Song corrected her. “Technically, it’s only an acronym if the shortened form makes a pronounceable word or name—like scuba or NASA.”
“LOL,” Dyl quipped, and the others groaned.
Commander Zota waited for them to quiet down. “It’s important to know your equipment, but using the complete technical name for each item is unnecessary and can actually interfere with communication. Abbreviations save time.”
He helped the four companions hook up their systems, explaining each step. “Your Primary Life Support Subsystem provides oxygen, power, temperature control, communications, warning indicators, and so on. A spacesuit is a self-contained environment, the equivalent of wearing a human-shaped submarine.”
After attaching their arm components, they all claimed helmets and treated the inside visors with an anti-fog compound. Though he must have done this countless times before, Commander Zota referred to the detailed checklist for each step.
Just like Uncle Buzz’s preflight checklist,
JJ thought. “When a small mistake could cause disaster, it’s a bad idea to rely on memory alone,” her uncle often said.
JJ thought back to a ski trip her family had taken years ago. At the time, she had considered it a pain to put on the long undergarments, ski pants, layers of socks, ski boots, sweater, jacket, hat, glove liners, gloves. But that was nothing compared to this!
Dyl nudged her. “Remember when we went to the fire station and got to watch Dad put on all his gear before going out to fight fires? He didn’t complain, and I’m not about to complain either.”
JJ remembered. Their father had always been courageous and careful, but his equipment hadn’t been able to save him five years ago, when a burning ceiling had collapsed on him during a rescue. She had inherited her sense of daring from him. She was practically fearless, in fact—except for fire. JJ shuddered.
“You sure take this simulation seriously, sir,” King said.
Zota gave him a thoughtful look. “The more accurate the experience is, the better you can learn from it. Make it count. By the end of the day, I believe you will understand a great deal.”
“When do we start the mission?” Song-Ye was having trouble getting into her boots. “Is all this really necessary?”
Zota continued as if he hadn’t heard. “Because of the Moon’s lack of atmosphere, walking on its surface will be like stepping out into hard vacuum. Your spacesuit maintains your body’s integrity. If your suit fails, your tissues explode and freeze. We wouldn’t want that now, would we?”
The cadets shook their heads.
“On Earth, atmosphere protects us from solar or cosmic radiation, but on the Moon you have to count on your space-suit for that too. You can’t see the deadly particles raining down on you, but they can cause cellular damage. And don’t forget that temperatures on the Moon range from over two hundred degrees Fahrenheit in the direct sunlight to three hundred degrees below zero in the shade.”
“I’m convinced.” King patted his life-support pack. “I have a new appreciation for my suit, sir.”
Commander Zota helped them put on more suit components. He connected the control umbilicals, and the systems began powering up. “You each have an in-suit drink bag and an energy bar. That should offer sufficient nutrition for our day’s activities.”
“A built-in snack? They thought of everything!” Dyl raised his arms in a victory gesture in his bulky spacesuit.
The body armor helped him stand up straight and provided support.
“Pfft.
Everything?” Song-Ye said, waving her cell phone at him. “Did they think of
pockets?”
“Good question,” Dyl said. “I wanted to take some note-cards and a pencil along. This is a problem ….”
“I would not recommend taking anything with you, but if you must, there is a small pouch here.” Zota pointed out a storage pocket inside the space suit, then explained how to ensure that each other’s seals and connections were correct. By the time they put on comfort gloves and outer gloves, JJ was anxious to get moving. It had been nearly an hour since they started.
Commander Zota showed them how to read their suit information on the display inside their helmets. “Keep in mind that the faceplates are reflective to protect your eyes and faces from the sun, so you won’t be able to see each other’s faces while you are wearing your helmets. Final step: lock it down and check one another. Working as a team will help you stay safe.”
With a brisk gesture, JJ installed her helmet and linked up the comm systems. She looked through her visor, listening to her breath echoing in the helmet, and heard Zota’s voice through the small speakers near her ears.
“Very well, cadets. After verifying your suit integrity on your diagnostic display, you may enter the airlock chamber.” He gestured to the far wall. To JJ’s surprise, the double doorway there looked more complex than the painted movie-set door Dyl had walked through only a few days earlier, and she wondered if the helmet’s faceplate was distorting her vision. The Center couldn’t possibly have been remodeled so quickly.
Commander Zota opened the heavy hatch. JJ helped her brother forward, and King and Song-Ye crowded after them into the airlock. Over their helmet radios, Zota’s voice said, “Once you reach Moonbase Magellan, your adventure really begins. The future is in your hands. Make this count.”
Song-Ye grumbled something about “taking make-believe a step too far,” but her comment was cut off by the loud clang of the door closing.
***
