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Since Tuesday is the traditional add-on release day of the week, I have no problem whatsoever giving you all:
SEP-010, Chapter 18.
Enterprise.
Jamie Cunningham saw Svetlana Zaytseva briefly, walking with her hands along the edge of Enterprise's cargo bay towards the aft section as the RMS arm brought her in a slow arc towards the fuel tanks. She could still hear the gasped cheering in hear ears: She had done it. She had taken a damaged space plane, and given it the means to travel back home.
Now came the fun part. As the RMS arm deposited her at the foot of the tank array, she sized up the one that was supposed to go to Constitution.
She looked up briefly. Constitution had already pulled away. There was about a hundred feet of distance between the two space planes, and she watched Constitution roll in the blackness of space to present her own cargo bay towards her. They were going for the standard docking flight profile, which was fine. Both Jamie and Svetlana would have to wait for docking to actually happen before anyone was comfortable with going ahead with the procedure.
On paper, the procedure was plausible: The fuel tank would have to be disengaged from the rack, swung around to present its output valve to Constitution, and brought the short distance to Constitution's own storage rack. The hookup would be instantaneous along with stowage of the tank, owing to the employment of quick disconnect feeder valves.
Then, the preparations would be complete. Constitution and Enterprise would be free to separate, and that would be that.
Svetlana floated the short distance to the storage rack, and Jamie watched as she hooked her tether to the hard point.
Then her eyes trailed out to the sky above her. She saw the moon. It hung quite meekly in the sky, and a strange half-smile crossed her mouth as she studied the features that she could see.
It seemed so long ago that they'd been there. In the basin of Mare Smythii, scratching out memorials in the regolith and carrying huge, distended rocks into the crew elevator floor. In lunar orbit, looking at Tranquility Base . . . peeking at Fra Mauro . . . the Ocean of Storms.
"Have you given any thought as to how we are going to do this?" Svetlana asked. When Jamie didn't reply, Svetlana cleared her throat.
"Jamie, I read the information," She continued louder. "This tank is thirteen thousand kilograms without fuel. Neither of us are Superwoman, and . . ."
Jamie thought it over, now listening fully, and froze. An object in space was essentially weightless . . . but it still had mass, and it still took work to effect motion onto that object. That, and Newton's Law certainly applied in the cargo bay.
That was a lot of mass.
The tank, she realized as her heart sank, if they were going to be able to move it at all, would continue to move until it encountered something that could move it. Like, for example, the floor of Constitution's cargo bay.
"We need an RMS arm," Jamie said.
"Exactly my point, but . . . look at the tank." Svetlana stretched out an arm, sweeping it over the surface. The tank was, in Jamie's opinion, about the size of an adult casket, and . . . while it had two pairs of what could charitably be called handles, there were no standard grappling points an RMS's end effector could hook onto.
"We could somehow get the RMS effector underneath the tank," Jamie ventured, and Svetlana shook her head.
"The tank could roll off the end of the effector and do something unpredictable. That much mass moving the wrong way could destroy the RMS arm and create a hazard for us and this ship."
"We can't just run a fuel line," Jamie blurted.
"I know. It would be that simple, wouldn't it?" Svetlana noted in disgust.
Jamie stared at Svetlana as she took the new information in, and she cursed herself for her stupidity as she remembered the innocuous engineering details she'd long forgotten. On Earth, it took a crane to custom load the tank requirements. Why would it be any different in space?
Closing her eyes in frustration, she sighed. Constitution was out of fuel, essentially. They used up most of what they had left from the moon, just by dodging the morass of debris that was up there in low Earth orbit. And now . . . it looked like it just became that much more difficult just to get home in one piece.
They'd have to leave Constitution in orbit, after all.
The realization made Jamie Cunningham extremely angry just then. After all of that hard work . . . of sticking her neck out . . . they were still faced with the same failure they had gone in with.
"Smatree!" Svetlana called. Jamie's eyes shot open, and she looked to where Svetlana was pointing.
"What is it?"
"Do you not have that strap still in that box?"
* * *
Christopher C. Kraft Jr. Mission Control Center.
"This is Mission Control, Houston," Flight Director Matthew Payton heard. Public Affairs Officer, Elliot Briggs was busily at work at his microphone some distance behind him. "Next step: EVA. Astronauts Cunningham and Zaytseva are about to transfer a full fuel tank from Enterprise, onto Constitution. It looks like they are deliberating on how to proceed."
Payton watched the television screen with interest.
* * *
Enterprise.
"Here, I'm going to throw you an end," Jamie Cunningham announced. She bent, clutching the tow strap in both hands. As she cleared the fuel tank underneath, she threw a strap end lightly underneath the tank.
Svetlana caught the strap end. "Now we need to bring this up . . ."
". . . and wait for Constitution to bring her RMS effector to us," Jamie finished her sentence giddily. "What a great idea!" She chirped, and Svetlana smiled at her.
Constitution's RMS arm ghosted into view, and Jamie caught the effector by her hand. Guiding the effector to a clear spot just over the tank, she brought her end of the tow strap up.
"Alright, Sveta," She said. "Let's not destroy the end effector camera while we're doing this. Can you loop your end through there?"
"I can try."
Jamie held her hand outstretched as Svetlana pushed her end of the strap through the space between the RMS end effector and its camera. The strap end held a metal end piece pressed into the fabric, and she pulled the strap end through smartly.
"Now I'm going to loop my end around the handle on the tank," Jamie announced.
"I will do the same. I think we have enough length to do this."
She looped her end of the strap through the handle, all the while keeping half of her attention on Svetlana and her task. The buckle came through the handle on the other side of the tank with minor difficulty, and Jamie passed her free end of the strap through the RMS end effector once more.
"Okay, Sveta. Let's see if we can get this strap cinched up."
Svetlana took both ends of the strap and tugged them together.
"It will work!" She gasped.
The strap ends met, and Jamie felt a shot of pure adrenaline lance into her system as her eyes took the sight in. Svetlana threaded the free end into the buckle, and began ratcheting the strap tightly.
Jamie tugged on a free side of the strap. The tension was good. The prospect of them returning home became a reality, and she shivered giddily as she guided her end of the strap to keep it from binding up.
"Okay, I think that's enough," Jamie said. "They should have enough control authority to do this with the RMS now."
* * *
Christopher C. Kraft, Jr. Mission Control Center.
Matthew Payton watched his television screen with a devilish smile playing across his lips. His two astronauts had just found a shade-tree, backyard solution to a real problem, and it looked -- just looked -- like it was going to work.
"EVA and systems, let's have a go, no-go for RMS movement," He said smartly. "EVA?"
"Go!"
"Systems?"
"We're looking good here if that strap holds, flight."
"Copy that," Payton said. "CAPCOM, let's tell them they're 'go' to bring that tank home."
* * *
Constitution.
Jamie Cunningham woke up, feeling the pounding headache still lingering in her forehead. Sticking her groggy head out of the hatch leading into the crew access elevator, she yawned at the sight of Brian Adkinson floating past, mingling with the images her eyes had captured mere hours ago. The RMS arm drawing the fuel tank into Constitution's fuel bay.
Sighting the new tank in had taken almost two hours to get it right, and Jamie was sure she was going to jump out of her skin when she saw the RMS's wrist joint rotate freely, bringing the tank to the proper attitude. It took most of what her and Svetlana had to muscle the tank in properly, and the euphoria she felt at their victory almost as quickly was replaced with abject exhaustion by the time they swam back into Constitution's crew elevator.
"Wake up, bright eyes!" He chirped. "We've got press conferences to deal with."
"Oh great," She slurred. "Who is it this time?"
"The usual. Reuters. The BBC. Google. It's a video conference, so you'd better get ready."
Jamie snorted in disgust.
* * *
"And here we are once more with the pilot and commander of Constitution; Brian Adkinson and Jamie Cunningham. I know we're all very relieved and excited to see them once more for their final press conference in flight with us; let's give them all a big welcome back to Earth with these words: Constitution, this is John Hensley with Google; how do you hear me?"
Jamie Cunningham turned her head to give Adkinson a warm smile as he held the microphone up and clicked it on.
"We hear you just fine, John. It's great to be back in low Earth orbit, and we're all ecstatic about how our repair yesterday went. We're looking forward to returning home."
"Indeed, Brian. I know a lot of folks have been following what has turned out to be the mission of firsts to end all mission of firsts, as it were . . . with very avid interest, I might add. First, I'd like to talk about what exactly you, Jamie, and Svetlana Zaytseva did up there?"
"Well, John," Jamie said, "I really did what I had to do, within the limits of what I thought could be done up there. It's really as simple as that. We had a lot of support from the ground, and from Greg Williams, Tamara Ciotti and Charlie Davis at the helm of Enterprise. We're glad that this part of our space program is progressing as well as it is, and we'd also like to give a huge shout-out to everyone in every nation who has been helping all of this along."
"Uh-huh. Now tell me, we all know that two hundred miles up, much less two thousand miles up is nowhere convenient to practice a drill. We also know that NASA does nothing on the fly; what we saw up there was consummate professionalism and ability up there; can you shed some light on that?"
"I did what I could," Jamie replied with a sly grin. "Seriously, though, the EVA ended up taking a lot longer than anyone expected, which is, in the grand scheme of things, not at all unusual for spaceflight. Getting the replacement thermal protection panel replaced was one thing; hauling a twenty ton fuel canister fifty feet, flipping it over, and hooking it up, was another. It was Svetlana's idea to use the strap that held our new protection plate secured in its carrying box . . . to wrap it around the tank and the end of Constitution's canadarm so that we could use that to do all of the grunt work. For her quick thinking, I'm sure we've saved each other a night of extremely sore muscles, which is not the way I wanted to spend my last night up in space. For all of that, I'm graciously indebted to her."
"So now, from what I understand, and for the viewers' benefit, you are now in a prime position to return back to Kennedy . . . ending a record-breaking and bar-raising mission culminating with a walk on the moon. It sounds like you are scheduled to return today, is that correct?"
"That is correct, John," Adkinson replied. "We have a few more housekeeping procedures that will take some time to complete, but both Enterprise and Constitution will return as scheduled."
"That's excellent to hear. Well, we are out of time for now. From Google, and the rest of the world, this is John Hensley wishing the crews of both Constitution and Enterprise a safe return trip."
"And thank you, John," Adkinson said as Jamie waved for the camera. The image on their monitors wiped to a color chart.
* * *
"Okay, Houston, Constitution," Jamie said. "Are we clear?"
"That's affirmative, Jamie. Your transmission is clear. We'd like to have you transfer your crews and prepare for undocking at this time."
"Roger that, Houston," Jamie replied softly as the emotions she had been trying to hold back began to lunge forward. She turned her eyes from Sienna Morrison, to Svetlana Zaytseva, to Brian Adkinson, and he gave her a reassuring smile.
"Don't worry, Jamie," He said as Greg Williams swam through the docking access tunnel and into the mid-deck. "Cedars Sinai has already been notified about my arrival, and they're prepared to have me there."
"I know," Jamie said softly. "This isn't goodbye, you know."
Adkinson smiled at her, though the gesture wasn't completely lost. She knew just as well as anyone else that the fact he was going to that hospital immediately after landing meant something was probably seriously wrong with him.
She stared at his blue eyes poignantly.
This wasn't goodbye.
. . . Was it?
"I know," He replied softly.
"Houston, Constitution; this is Greg Williams," Jamie heard the annoucement made tactfully quietly. "Be advised, I've transferred myself at this time."
"Copy that, Greg."
The mid-deck fell silent as Jamie stared at each of the people she spent the last few weeks and months with. People who came from completely different walks of life than her. People she'd grown with. Fought with. And come to love. Sienna, and her wit and playfulness. Svetlana, and her mole-like awesomeness. Brian; The Captain of the group and undisputed bad-ass. Even Sir Upchuck, who came into his own moment of shining glory with the way he handled the RMS controls in a state of complete professionalism and raw ability as they fought to refuel Constitution.
They all smiled back half-heartedly; spoken language quickly became an afterthought.
The mission . . . the reason for all of them to be where they were at the moment . . . Space Exploration Program, Mission Number Ten . . .
. . . was now all but over.
They made it to the moon . . . they walked on the moon . . . they had an amazing . . . harrowing adventure . . . and they finally made it back.
The remaining formalities dealt with re-entry, descent, landing, and wheel-stop . . . and Jamie found herself toying with the procedures in her head even now. . . when it was time to say goodbye to some really good people.
"You'd better get aboard Enterprise, Brian," Jamie finally said as her eyes felt dangerously close to tearing up. She said it softly . . . but with a finality. She was in charge, now. She had found her voice, and everyone knew it. Adkinson nodded to her.
"You've got this, Jamie," He said with his trademark grin. "You've carried this mission wonderfully. I'll be listening for your arrival." He winked to her, and swam up the tunnel.
"I'm going to get a supply count real quick," Williams said, and Jamie nodded as she sighed. Her head flooded completely. It was quickly getting to the end of their orbital day; Constitution and Enterprise were about to un-dock, and they were going to go their separate ways. Kennedy for one, Edwards for the other. The plan had already been discussed and approved with the ground; Jamie and Constitution would take the first re-entry window to land, and Enterprise would follow three orbits later.
It was going to be hell to get some sleep tonight, she thought to herself.
* * *
SEP-010, Chapter 18.
Enterprise.
Jamie Cunningham saw Svetlana Zaytseva briefly, walking with her hands along the edge of Enterprise's cargo bay towards the aft section as the RMS arm brought her in a slow arc towards the fuel tanks. She could still hear the gasped cheering in hear ears: She had done it. She had taken a damaged space plane, and given it the means to travel back home.
Now came the fun part. As the RMS arm deposited her at the foot of the tank array, she sized up the one that was supposed to go to Constitution.
She looked up briefly. Constitution had already pulled away. There was about a hundred feet of distance between the two space planes, and she watched Constitution roll in the blackness of space to present her own cargo bay towards her. They were going for the standard docking flight profile, which was fine. Both Jamie and Svetlana would have to wait for docking to actually happen before anyone was comfortable with going ahead with the procedure.
On paper, the procedure was plausible: The fuel tank would have to be disengaged from the rack, swung around to present its output valve to Constitution, and brought the short distance to Constitution's own storage rack. The hookup would be instantaneous along with stowage of the tank, owing to the employment of quick disconnect feeder valves.
Then, the preparations would be complete. Constitution and Enterprise would be free to separate, and that would be that.
Svetlana floated the short distance to the storage rack, and Jamie watched as she hooked her tether to the hard point.
Then her eyes trailed out to the sky above her. She saw the moon. It hung quite meekly in the sky, and a strange half-smile crossed her mouth as she studied the features that she could see.
It seemed so long ago that they'd been there. In the basin of Mare Smythii, scratching out memorials in the regolith and carrying huge, distended rocks into the crew elevator floor. In lunar orbit, looking at Tranquility Base . . . peeking at Fra Mauro . . . the Ocean of Storms.
"Have you given any thought as to how we are going to do this?" Svetlana asked. When Jamie didn't reply, Svetlana cleared her throat.
"Jamie, I read the information," She continued louder. "This tank is thirteen thousand kilograms without fuel. Neither of us are Superwoman, and . . ."
Jamie thought it over, now listening fully, and froze. An object in space was essentially weightless . . . but it still had mass, and it still took work to effect motion onto that object. That, and Newton's Law certainly applied in the cargo bay.
That was a lot of mass.
The tank, she realized as her heart sank, if they were going to be able to move it at all, would continue to move until it encountered something that could move it. Like, for example, the floor of Constitution's cargo bay.
"We need an RMS arm," Jamie said.
"Exactly my point, but . . . look at the tank." Svetlana stretched out an arm, sweeping it over the surface. The tank was, in Jamie's opinion, about the size of an adult casket, and . . . while it had two pairs of what could charitably be called handles, there were no standard grappling points an RMS's end effector could hook onto.
"We could somehow get the RMS effector underneath the tank," Jamie ventured, and Svetlana shook her head.
"The tank could roll off the end of the effector and do something unpredictable. That much mass moving the wrong way could destroy the RMS arm and create a hazard for us and this ship."
"We can't just run a fuel line," Jamie blurted.
"I know. It would be that simple, wouldn't it?" Svetlana noted in disgust.
Jamie stared at Svetlana as she took the new information in, and she cursed herself for her stupidity as she remembered the innocuous engineering details she'd long forgotten. On Earth, it took a crane to custom load the tank requirements. Why would it be any different in space?
Closing her eyes in frustration, she sighed. Constitution was out of fuel, essentially. They used up most of what they had left from the moon, just by dodging the morass of debris that was up there in low Earth orbit. And now . . . it looked like it just became that much more difficult just to get home in one piece.
They'd have to leave Constitution in orbit, after all.
The realization made Jamie Cunningham extremely angry just then. After all of that hard work . . . of sticking her neck out . . . they were still faced with the same failure they had gone in with.
"Smatree!" Svetlana called. Jamie's eyes shot open, and she looked to where Svetlana was pointing.
"What is it?"
"Do you not have that strap still in that box?"
* * *
Christopher C. Kraft Jr. Mission Control Center.
"This is Mission Control, Houston," Flight Director Matthew Payton heard. Public Affairs Officer, Elliot Briggs was busily at work at his microphone some distance behind him. "Next step: EVA. Astronauts Cunningham and Zaytseva are about to transfer a full fuel tank from Enterprise, onto Constitution. It looks like they are deliberating on how to proceed."
Payton watched the television screen with interest.
* * *
Enterprise.
"Here, I'm going to throw you an end," Jamie Cunningham announced. She bent, clutching the tow strap in both hands. As she cleared the fuel tank underneath, she threw a strap end lightly underneath the tank.
Svetlana caught the strap end. "Now we need to bring this up . . ."
". . . and wait for Constitution to bring her RMS effector to us," Jamie finished her sentence giddily. "What a great idea!" She chirped, and Svetlana smiled at her.
Constitution's RMS arm ghosted into view, and Jamie caught the effector by her hand. Guiding the effector to a clear spot just over the tank, she brought her end of the tow strap up.
"Alright, Sveta," She said. "Let's not destroy the end effector camera while we're doing this. Can you loop your end through there?"
"I can try."
Jamie held her hand outstretched as Svetlana pushed her end of the strap through the space between the RMS end effector and its camera. The strap end held a metal end piece pressed into the fabric, and she pulled the strap end through smartly.
"Now I'm going to loop my end around the handle on the tank," Jamie announced.
"I will do the same. I think we have enough length to do this."
She looped her end of the strap through the handle, all the while keeping half of her attention on Svetlana and her task. The buckle came through the handle on the other side of the tank with minor difficulty, and Jamie passed her free end of the strap through the RMS end effector once more.
"Okay, Sveta. Let's see if we can get this strap cinched up."
Svetlana took both ends of the strap and tugged them together.
"It will work!" She gasped.
The strap ends met, and Jamie felt a shot of pure adrenaline lance into her system as her eyes took the sight in. Svetlana threaded the free end into the buckle, and began ratcheting the strap tightly.
Jamie tugged on a free side of the strap. The tension was good. The prospect of them returning home became a reality, and she shivered giddily as she guided her end of the strap to keep it from binding up.
"Okay, I think that's enough," Jamie said. "They should have enough control authority to do this with the RMS now."
* * *
Christopher C. Kraft, Jr. Mission Control Center.
Matthew Payton watched his television screen with a devilish smile playing across his lips. His two astronauts had just found a shade-tree, backyard solution to a real problem, and it looked -- just looked -- like it was going to work.
"EVA and systems, let's have a go, no-go for RMS movement," He said smartly. "EVA?"
"Go!"
"Systems?"
"We're looking good here if that strap holds, flight."
"Copy that," Payton said. "CAPCOM, let's tell them they're 'go' to bring that tank home."
* * *
Constitution.
Jamie Cunningham woke up, feeling the pounding headache still lingering in her forehead. Sticking her groggy head out of the hatch leading into the crew access elevator, she yawned at the sight of Brian Adkinson floating past, mingling with the images her eyes had captured mere hours ago. The RMS arm drawing the fuel tank into Constitution's fuel bay.
Sighting the new tank in had taken almost two hours to get it right, and Jamie was sure she was going to jump out of her skin when she saw the RMS's wrist joint rotate freely, bringing the tank to the proper attitude. It took most of what her and Svetlana had to muscle the tank in properly, and the euphoria she felt at their victory almost as quickly was replaced with abject exhaustion by the time they swam back into Constitution's crew elevator.
"Wake up, bright eyes!" He chirped. "We've got press conferences to deal with."
"Oh great," She slurred. "Who is it this time?"
"The usual. Reuters. The BBC. Google. It's a video conference, so you'd better get ready."
Jamie snorted in disgust.
* * *
"And here we are once more with the pilot and commander of Constitution; Brian Adkinson and Jamie Cunningham. I know we're all very relieved and excited to see them once more for their final press conference in flight with us; let's give them all a big welcome back to Earth with these words: Constitution, this is John Hensley with Google; how do you hear me?"
Jamie Cunningham turned her head to give Adkinson a warm smile as he held the microphone up and clicked it on.
"We hear you just fine, John. It's great to be back in low Earth orbit, and we're all ecstatic about how our repair yesterday went. We're looking forward to returning home."
"Indeed, Brian. I know a lot of folks have been following what has turned out to be the mission of firsts to end all mission of firsts, as it were . . . with very avid interest, I might add. First, I'd like to talk about what exactly you, Jamie, and Svetlana Zaytseva did up there?"
"Well, John," Jamie said, "I really did what I had to do, within the limits of what I thought could be done up there. It's really as simple as that. We had a lot of support from the ground, and from Greg Williams, Tamara Ciotti and Charlie Davis at the helm of Enterprise. We're glad that this part of our space program is progressing as well as it is, and we'd also like to give a huge shout-out to everyone in every nation who has been helping all of this along."
"Uh-huh. Now tell me, we all know that two hundred miles up, much less two thousand miles up is nowhere convenient to practice a drill. We also know that NASA does nothing on the fly; what we saw up there was consummate professionalism and ability up there; can you shed some light on that?"
"I did what I could," Jamie replied with a sly grin. "Seriously, though, the EVA ended up taking a lot longer than anyone expected, which is, in the grand scheme of things, not at all unusual for spaceflight. Getting the replacement thermal protection panel replaced was one thing; hauling a twenty ton fuel canister fifty feet, flipping it over, and hooking it up, was another. It was Svetlana's idea to use the strap that held our new protection plate secured in its carrying box . . . to wrap it around the tank and the end of Constitution's canadarm so that we could use that to do all of the grunt work. For her quick thinking, I'm sure we've saved each other a night of extremely sore muscles, which is not the way I wanted to spend my last night up in space. For all of that, I'm graciously indebted to her."
"So now, from what I understand, and for the viewers' benefit, you are now in a prime position to return back to Kennedy . . . ending a record-breaking and bar-raising mission culminating with a walk on the moon. It sounds like you are scheduled to return today, is that correct?"
"That is correct, John," Adkinson replied. "We have a few more housekeeping procedures that will take some time to complete, but both Enterprise and Constitution will return as scheduled."
"That's excellent to hear. Well, we are out of time for now. From Google, and the rest of the world, this is John Hensley wishing the crews of both Constitution and Enterprise a safe return trip."
"And thank you, John," Adkinson said as Jamie waved for the camera. The image on their monitors wiped to a color chart.
* * *
"Okay, Houston, Constitution," Jamie said. "Are we clear?"
"That's affirmative, Jamie. Your transmission is clear. We'd like to have you transfer your crews and prepare for undocking at this time."
"Roger that, Houston," Jamie replied softly as the emotions she had been trying to hold back began to lunge forward. She turned her eyes from Sienna Morrison, to Svetlana Zaytseva, to Brian Adkinson, and he gave her a reassuring smile.
"Don't worry, Jamie," He said as Greg Williams swam through the docking access tunnel and into the mid-deck. "Cedars Sinai has already been notified about my arrival, and they're prepared to have me there."
"I know," Jamie said softly. "This isn't goodbye, you know."
Adkinson smiled at her, though the gesture wasn't completely lost. She knew just as well as anyone else that the fact he was going to that hospital immediately after landing meant something was probably seriously wrong with him.
She stared at his blue eyes poignantly.
This wasn't goodbye.
. . . Was it?
"I know," He replied softly.
"Houston, Constitution; this is Greg Williams," Jamie heard the annoucement made tactfully quietly. "Be advised, I've transferred myself at this time."
"Copy that, Greg."
The mid-deck fell silent as Jamie stared at each of the people she spent the last few weeks and months with. People who came from completely different walks of life than her. People she'd grown with. Fought with. And come to love. Sienna, and her wit and playfulness. Svetlana, and her mole-like awesomeness. Brian; The Captain of the group and undisputed bad-ass. Even Sir Upchuck, who came into his own moment of shining glory with the way he handled the RMS controls in a state of complete professionalism and raw ability as they fought to refuel Constitution.
They all smiled back half-heartedly; spoken language quickly became an afterthought.
The mission . . . the reason for all of them to be where they were at the moment . . . Space Exploration Program, Mission Number Ten . . .
. . . was now all but over.
They made it to the moon . . . they walked on the moon . . . they had an amazing . . . harrowing adventure . . . and they finally made it back.
The remaining formalities dealt with re-entry, descent, landing, and wheel-stop . . . and Jamie found herself toying with the procedures in her head even now. . . when it was time to say goodbye to some really good people.
"You'd better get aboard Enterprise, Brian," Jamie finally said as her eyes felt dangerously close to tearing up. She said it softly . . . but with a finality. She was in charge, now. She had found her voice, and everyone knew it. Adkinson nodded to her.
"You've got this, Jamie," He said with his trademark grin. "You've carried this mission wonderfully. I'll be listening for your arrival." He winked to her, and swam up the tunnel.
"I'm going to get a supply count real quick," Williams said, and Jamie nodded as she sighed. Her head flooded completely. It was quickly getting to the end of their orbital day; Constitution and Enterprise were about to un-dock, and they were going to go their separate ways. Kennedy for one, Edwards for the other. The plan had already been discussed and approved with the ground; Jamie and Constitution would take the first re-entry window to land, and Enterprise would follow three orbits later.
It was going to be hell to get some sleep tonight, she thought to herself.
* * *
