It seems so long ago that we were all excited about travel into space, watching the Saturn Vs and shuttles launching, until it became almost passe. I sincerely hope that excitement will return one fine day…
“The river was alive with paddle-wheel steamers in the center channel, the turning paddles churning up clouds of white spray, making the river boil bright orange where its chemical undercurrent was troubled: from shore you could clearly hear the loud ‘thump-thump-thump’ on the water. From all over town, young boys and girls ran gazing in awe. A dozen times a day. No one ever became indifferent to them because nothing important can ever be really boring. You can see the difference, can’t you? Between those serious boats and the truly boring spacecraft of the past few decades, just flying junk without a purpose young people can believe in.”
John Taylor Gatto in DUMBING US DOWN 1992
I’d use any excuse to get out of a couple days of school. When my big brother Alexi said he was driving over to scope out the High Carnival at Brainerd International, I asked if I could come with.
“You’re only in eighth grade, Serge! I’m a senior. You need your education,” he said. “I don’t need one where I’m going.”
“Bet you’re headed back to the mother ship,” I snarked. Some days, I hated him. Sometimes, whole weeks. Once, when he was thirteen and I only ten-and-a-half, I hated him for the whole school year.
The warning bell rang.
He whispered loud, “You can come if I can stuff you in the trunk.” I nodded and he added, “But…”
“I hate when you do that.”
He kept talking, “…you have to bring your babysitter to keep you busy. I can’t have you cramping my style.”
I ignored most of what he said. “Fine. I’ll tell Minji she’s coming with.” On the middle school basketball team, I had lots of friends to goof off with. But Minji was the only person I respected, and I’d trust her with my life. Besides, she’d rip my arms off if I didn’t invite her. The High Carnival is the most important thing in my fourteen-and-a-half years of life on Earth. He sprinted out of school to his car where he was waiting for his senior friends for open lunch.
I called Minji the second school got out. She lives next to the school and her mom has an office at home, so I had to listen while they argued. When she came back, she said, “Mom says I can go with. But she wants a call from your brother before we leave Brainerd. And we have to leave right after the launch.”
I cussed. “You know what Alexi will say!”
“Nevertheless.” She was the only eighth grader I knew who’d ever used that word voluntarily.
“Fine! I’ll get him to do it.” I paused, “Do we have to leave the minute it launches?”
She held the phone to her mouth and whispered, “It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than it is to ask for permission.” She hung up. I sighed. We’d stayed up until three in the morning after Alex got a reflector telescope for his birthday last winter trying to find Space Station Courage. Alex was furious ‘cause we didn’t ask, both our moms were furious, and my mom called the cops. We’d been grounded from each other for two weeks.
During next passing time, he grabbed me by the front of my shirt and dragged me into the lav. Before I screamed, he leaned close and said, “You can come if you agree to ride in the back seat, pretend you don’t know me and Luis when we’re there, and bring your babysitter, Minji.”
Minji isn’t my “babysitter”, she’s my best friend, but I agreed – then hoped she’d be willing. I called her, she ran through the house with the phone, screaming at her mom, begging for permission. When she got back on with me, I said, “I heard! Get over here, quick! He’s leaving in fifteen minutes!” I hung up, grabbed my string strap PE bag, shoved in a couple T-shirts, a sweatshirt, a pair of underwear and socks. I thought about everything else, said, “Screw it,” slung it over my shoulder and ran up the stairs where I added two cans of pop, a handful of candy, granola bars, and ran out the door.
Minji sailed into our yard on her bike, letting it go to crash into the arborvitae just as Alex backed his car out. She was all in blue jeans and jean jacket. “Am I late?” she called.
“Yeah. Alex is gone and I’m just waiting for him to come home.” She threw her pack at me and I caught it.
Alex rolled down the window and said, “Get in, deti!” His buddy, Luis sat next to him, ready to mock us as well.
Minji knew the Russian word and opened her mouth to cuss him. I grabbed her, leaned in and said, “Eight kilometers to Brainerd and eight back! He’ll dump us on the side of the road and not pick us up if you don’t shut up, please?”
Alex laughed and threw over his shoulder, “Listen to my malysh brat.”
I hate my brother, but I dug my elbow into Minji’s side. She rolled her eyes, closed her mouth, and crossed her arms over her chest, saying under her breath, “If it was anything but the HIGH CARNIVAL, Serge, I swear it…” We were crammed together with his cooler, our feet up on bats, gloves, soccer balls.
I adjusted my feet, tired of my knees under my chin and started. “Why’s he got Dad’s Duluth pack?” I reached out to untie the leather lacing.
“You wanna live to see puberty?” he grumbled, slamming on the brakes. “Keep you and your nanny’s sticky fingers out of my stuff or I’m shoving you both out on the street! When I get to the highway!” He floored it, pushing us back into the seat. “And fasten your seat belts! There’ll be cops and highway patrol all the way there!” We rattled in silence in the back seat as we got out of town, heading for Brainerd International Airport.
I leaned over, “I hate my brother.”
“I usually don’t, but he’s being a real dick today!” she whispered.
The ride to the airport was bumpy, loud, and alternately fast and almost inching along. Alex abruptly said, “You know that the second balloon flight testing the effects of high altitude flight was launched from Crosby?”
Minji was on her phone in a second, then showed me the article. She leaned to me and whisper, “Unless he has drugs in the pack. I provisionally take that back. ”
“He doesn’t have enough money to buy drugs.” I glared at the back of his head and muttered, “I sure don’t,” cause I could see him smirking.
We waited forever to get in, then he held his hand over the back seat for us to give him our cards for the parking and tickets cause there’d been no pre-sales possible. Security reserved the right to cancel any Carnival for any reason.
We snaked across the airport grounds, which was closed for everything except High Carnival. When we reached the parking lot, Alex and Luis scraped together enough card cash to pay for a spot. We got out, and Alex grabbed me by the arm hard. “Hey! You don’t need to torture me! I’m listening!”
He leaned in and spoke softly into my ear, “Take care of her. Take care of yourself, Serge.” I tried to pull free, but he dug his fingers in harder, and I yelped as he said, “Take care of Mom and Dad, Sergey.” He never used my whole name. Then he shoved me away, reached into the car, jerked out the Duluth pack, and headed for the Carnival gate with Luis.
Rubbing my arm, I stared after him. Minji shouted in my ear, “What was that all about?” The parking lot was jammed. Scouts and old folks in ratty old military, police, and paramedic uniforms directed cars and people with flags, keeping everyone moving. One old lady in a blue jacket and white pants, and more wrinkles than my grandma, was headed toward us, face all screwed up, ready to yell. Minji grabbed me – right where Alexi had, and said, “Let’s get out of here!”
We ran for the gate, athletic packs bouncing on our backs. We finally stopped in line, which moved pretty fast, and she said, “I’ll bet your brother’s got drugs in his pack.”
I turned on her, “How would you know? He’s not your brother!”
She took a step back, hands going up as she said, “I was just sayin’ what you’re thinking!”
I had been thinking that, but I wasn’t going to admit it. I said, “I’m not thinking about him. I’m thinking about getting to the campground and staking our spot before they’re all taken!”
She held up her cell, “I got us one.”
I blinked, “How did you do that?”
She shrugged, then said, “President said the High Carnivals are free for middle and high school kids who have been straight A students since they were in sixth grade.” The fifty-first president of the United States, Ellen Mendieta de Burgos, was a colonist on the thirty-crew Moon Colony One and instituted the High Carnival program even before she returned to Earth, becoming the first to be elected while still in space. She did it because she saw that people had decided that the “ease” of going into space had made the program “Casi tan emocionante como cavar un huerto de patatas” or “about as exciting as hoeing a potato patch”.
Minji shrugged and smirked. Once again, I felt like the only ‘A’ I’d ever get was for being an A-hole. She flashed her cell at the ticket seller, then pointed to me. He arched his hairy, old brows twice at me, then let us through. She grabbed my hand and dragged me along behind her, Minji shouted, “Come on, Serge! We have to hurry!” She slowed, then added, “It’s like the Minnesota State Fair, but a million times better!” Flags, fireworks tonight until the biggest fireworks the next morning, bands, food, and surging crowds of celebrating, excited people.
We came to the ticket scanners in front of a high, silver arch with red, white, and blue flags blowing in the wind, and stopped suddenly.
“How are you going to get in?”
“Do everything I do, and we’ll be inside in thirty minutes and on our way to our campsite!” I pushed through the crowd until I couldn’t breathe, then stopped to look for the service road I knew was nearby. I’d spent weeks using three or four map applications – not just highway ones, but US Geological Survey, and even historical flyover and satellite photos.
Minji had followed me and grabbed my shoulder, trying to spin me around. I broke free, but she snagged my shirt. I struggled as she whispered in my ear, “What are you doing?”
That was when I saw Alexi already inside, wearing his stupid Duluth Pack, Luis running behind him. “Alexi’s in already! He copied my stuff!” Minji was distracted, so I broke away and headed for the narrow trail that ran alongside the fence and service road. Alexi was running right next to the electrified fence, making sure he was out of sight of stationary surveillance. I looked up.
No drones at the moment, but I was sure they were. I stopped, pulled a packet out from my pocket and tossed it to Minji, “Break the packet and throw the foil over your shoulder – over your head it you can.”
She caught it and said, “What?”
“Scrambles our image when drones fly over.” We were best friends, and while she hesitated, she still followed my lead.
I ran fast, certain Minji would follow. When I saw the big growth of poison hemlock, I said, “There’s our gate.”
“What? That’s poison hemlock! It’ll kill…”
I tossed her a second packet from my string bag. “Put it on.” I yanked a cord, then shook it into hazmat coveralls with booties and gloves. She did the same and I handed her a hoodie that was only clear from the nose to forehead. “Let’s go!”
“You’re just going to ignore signs with giant letters? In case you can’t read, it says, ‘ELECTRIFIED FENCE’.”
I said, “You hear a hum?”
“Who cares?”
“All electrified fences hum due to water in the air.” I pointed, “There’s no hum.” I hawked up a loogie and spit on the fence. Nothing. “Second, if the fence had been electrified, it would have zapped my spit like a bug zapper fries bugs.”
“What if you had spit like the first time you tried chewing tobacco?” I should have kept my mouth shut. That moment, when I dribbled onto my T-shirt in front of Minji was one of the most embarrassing moments in my life. “You and your brother are acting weird.”
“How?” I pushed through the growth, and right where the map had shown me, there was a gully wash around a drain pipe. It angled away from the landing strip and had digging a hole under the fence. It was damp at the bottom, but we hadn’t had much rain lately, and we were screened from the parking lot by the hemlock around us, and from anyone looking our way by hemlock on the other side. Without a word, I bent down, crawled in the water, scrunching down until I was almost belly down, slithered over the rocks, then started to climb up the other side. We came out in the hemlock grove. I said, “We have to step out of the hemlock first, then skin out of these things fast. Toss the coverall as far into the hole as you can without touching the outside or the plants with bare skin.” I thought about it, then pulled the hood off, leaving my hands and arms covered, then unzipped, and ripped one leg off. Minji did the same, but got free faster ‘cause the suit was way bigger on her.
It didn’t take long to get away from our crossover spot and moving closer to the launch pad. When I could finally pay attention, I looked up and gasped. “What…” Minji said, then shut up.
Whisps of white cloud drifted from a brown, soot-streaked main fuel tank piggybacking the StarBase class shuttle, JEMISIN. We both stared, mouths hanging open. Dual “easy-recovery”, self-landing solid rocket boosters clung to the sides of the main tank, waiting to launch the ship on its first step into orbit. Minji whispered, “I can’t believe they’re going up to Space Station Courage.”
I said, “Believe it, dummy! I hear Chang’e 12 did a successful slingshot maneuver around Jupiter and is headed for interstellar space!”
We turned to look at each other, then burst out laughing. Minji heard that EU, NASA, and Роскосмос were to finish the initial work on the Solar Explorer, a hollowed-out asteroid that was supposed to be a twelve-year exploration of the Solar System.
Our crew on the JEMISIN SSC-116 mission, calmly venting liquid oxygen a kilometer from us through a second stage vent, and three boosters to relieve the pressure of the LOX turning back into to gas, held the crew cabin commanded by Captain Delilah Yolanda Glenn. She was OUR captain, sitting on Mobile Mission Control Complex Seven, aka Brainerd International Airport. Minji said, “It’s like they all became honorary Minnesotans and are all from the Iron Range.” I nodded, finally understanding why Minji’s dad always tells us about “his” boring communication satellite that launched from Duluth a million years ago.
First time I heard it, I said, “My dad says High Carnival is just a hyped-up public relations gimmick to make people buy into the space program, even when there’s people starving on Earth.”
Right after he said that, Mom had shrugged and said, “What’s wrong with that, Dear? Our future is in space. I’m just sad I didn’t have a daughter to send into space.” Then she’d spun and left us boys alone. Five minutes later, Dad hurried after her.
Today, the JEMISIN was waiting to leap into space, and for us, it was the most amazing thing on the entire planet! My pulse began to pound. We were mesmerized and didn’t notice the NASA Public Safety officer with a forty-six centimeter keychain clanking against her heavy-duty flashlight, and a blaze-orange vest, until she said, “May I help youse youngsters?” Her accent was pure New York; her demeanor, no-nonsense police captain. We spun and tried to run, but she grabbed our elbows and squeezed enough to make us back up to ease the pain. She added, “Got your hands stamped?”
In chorus, we said, “Uhhh…”
“Didn’t think so. Let’s go, kids, the High Carnival Deputy Police Chief will be wanting to talk to you.”
“Wait!” Minji cried out. “We were only looking! We’ll go back.”
Her embroidered name read, “Marisol Valles” and she said, “Tell it to the judge, sister. I just work here.”
I screamed – not to scare Marisol, but because it felt like she was going to tear my arm off. She pulled us to her, one on each side. “Walk, kids. I’m not paid enough to chase you, so if you run, I’ll call the German Shepherd patrol.” She paused, steering us toward the block building next to the perimeter fence. “They’re hard to control if you’re screaming and fighting while they try to take you down. Best move is to drop and cover your head.” We walked on until she yanked us back. “I don’t trust you two.” She let go of us. “If you run, you should know the dog officers are right around the corner.” She zip tied our hands behind our backs, tightened them, then got us moving again.
The German Shepherd Patrol came around the corner a moment later.
I said, “I thought you were bluffing.”
“I don’t have a sense of humor.” I glanced up at her, then back down, glad she’d never been one of my teachers.
Beside Marisol, Minji started sniffling, then whimpering, and finally crying full out. Marisol shook her head, “Bold little miss, ain’tcha? That kind of showtune’s only gonna irritate me enough to cut off the blood flow to your hands.” Minji stopped abruptly.
I was pretty sure I’d be grounded until I was a hundred and fourteen, when I finally noticed where we were going. Passing the blockhouse, we came around the corner, Marisol steering us toward a smaller blockhouse. From there, nothing stood between Mission Control, us, and JEMISIN as we stopped dead in our tracks.
All three of us looked at the tower of dreams, goofy grins on our faces. We stayed there until our eyes watered and we knew we were sunburning. Marisol said softly, “She is a giant reaching for the stars someday. By the way, who are you two?”
“Minji Chaeyoung.”
“Serge Abramov.” None of us wasted time looking at each other. We could see the ribs of the immense nozzles sprouting from the main tanks. I could even see individual tiles on her belly. This would be her seventeenth launch, not a lot, certainly nowhere near the JOSÉ MORENO HERNÁNDEZ’ record one hundred ninety-three flights!
But JEMISIN was our shuttle now.
Marisol suddenly said, “It almost died.”
“What?” said Minji.
“The space program.” We all nodded. I teared up. Finally, she said, “I have other work to take care of.” She aimed us toward the smaller building, around the front, and turned the corner again. An aluminum ramp led up to a platform where two soldiers, an Army Staff Sergeant in dress blues, the other a Navy Petty Officer First Class in dress whites. Both saluted her. The Staff Sergeant passed his hand over a scanner and the door slid open. Marisol took a few steps, halted us in front of a green door, yellow stenciled with STETSON WILDER, underneath, High Carnival Deputy Police Chief and said, “This is where I hand you off to the bad guy, kids.”
We must have looked scared, because she said, “The Deputy doesn’t bite, but he does growl. Quite a lot.” The eyes of the woman in white grew a bit bigger.
The door opened suddenly and I stepped back as he said, “If lawbreakers are heinous enough, Security Chief, I’ve been known to bite. What did you bring me?”
“Trespassers, Chief.” Marisol looked down at Minji and me. “In.” We stepped past him as she continued, “Chief Stetson does not appreciate brassy broads, and has absolutely no tolerance for dumbass dudes who act stupid.”
He growled at them from under startlingly bushy white eyebrows.
Marisol continued, “They broke through the poison hemlock barricade wearing white hazmat suits with facemasks.” He lifted an eyebrow. “They crawled through the washout ravine.” He hummed. “They also didn’t run away when I mentioned the canine patrol.”
Stetson nodded slowly and said, “If you’d bring them home, Ms. Valles?”
Marisol smiled and pulled out a pair of scissors, and snipping the cuffs, saying, “Following procedure, Sir. My shift is done, and you know how Captain Patricia feels about overtime during High Carnival.” She nodded, adding, “Have a nice day, Sir.”
She closed the door and we were alone with Deputy Police Chief Wilder. He set his phone on the desk, tapped, and said, “For the record, please state your name, age, social security number, and current address.”
I looked to Minji. She was way smarter than me. She stood very straight, and said in such a perfect little-girl voice, “I don’t think that either Serge or I have a social security number yet, Sir.”
“Then it will have to be your full name, age, current address, the names of however many parents you currently have, and their phone numbers. You may open your cell phone to get the numbers if you don’t have them memorized, though it would reflect badly on you if you did not.” He flashed a sudden smile. I think I’ve seen it called a ‘feral smile’.
Minji rattled off all of her deets; I did as well – including Mom’s and my step-father’s number, and dad’s and his new husband’s numbers as well. Stetson hummed again.
He nodded and said, “What were you doing on secured government property?”
Minji raised her hand. Stetson nodded. She said, “Please, Deputy Police Chief Stetson, what is ‘secured government property’?”
Stetson said, “Secured government property is any property owned or leased by the government, including real and personal property, and is protected by 18 U.S.C. § 641. This law protects any property of the United States, including records, money, vouchers, and things of value. It also protects property made under contract for the United States.” Minji opened her mouth. Stetson held up a finger and she shut her mouth. “That means, Ms. Chaeyoung, that you and your friend were in a place that has been leased for us by NASA. It means that you were in a place you didn’t belong after ignoring posted warnings that threaten harm to you and your carrot-brained friend.” I opened my mouth to accuse him of disrespect, but Minji elbowed me. “Furthermore, according to your school records since you were in kindergarten, you two habitually get in trouble – not serious trouble – but you’re an annoyance to most of the people you deal with, both students and staff.” He stared at us without moving for seven straight minutes. There was a walk clock behind him. He added, “Also, you were trespassing on property and draining resources reserved for the very best of America’s citizens and one of the most important missions not only for your country, but for the entire planet. Do either of you have anything to say in your defense?”
I was staring at the floor, feeling like the most horrible person on Earth. Minji was doing the same thing – I know, I looked. The room stayed silent until Stetson said in a low, menacing voice, “Very well. We will discuss your discipline.”
Minji and me both looked up and said in unison, “Discipline!”
He laughed. “You don’t think we’d just say, ‘Naughty, naughty! Don’t do it again. Now hurry back out to the Carnival, have a nice time, here’s a file full of free passes!’, do you?”
Minji’s mouth burst like a dam, “We were trying to get into the Carnival for free, but not to play games, we wanted to see the JEMISIN. It was Serge’s idea, but I could have said ‘No! Let’s do it the right way!’ if I’d wanted to, but I didn’t…”
“You certainly could have,” he cut her off.
“Please call our parents, and write us up, put us in for community service, and let us spend a night in a jail cell with parental permission. I know my parents would absolutely give you permission!” I opened my mouth to argue, but before I could squeak, she elbowed me, dislocating my liver from my right side to my left. She continued, “But can we ask one thing?”
Stetson stared at her for even longer this time. It was getting creepy. “You may ask.”
“May we please watch the launch before you do whatever it is you have to do to us?” I stared at her. I wouldn’t have told as much truth as she had. But it’s why I dragged her with me. Her willingness to be honest was more developed than mine. Of course, when she lied, she was a much, much better liar than I was.
For a second, Stetson looked like he’d swallowed my dirty sock. Shaking his head, he muttered to himself for a few moments. He sighed. “I suppose, given the circumstances, I might be able to make an allowance.” He looked right at me, “But it is an effort at education.” He looked down at Minji and stood up, “Not because of your deeply terrible acting skills. Follow me. Do not speak.” We both nodded and followed him out of the office.
We walked down a hallway lined with closed doors until we came to a large, dark green door with three lights above it: yellow, red, and green. The green was lit. There were three squares to the right of the door, yellow, red, and green. He put his hand on the lit green one and the door hummed, then clicked and swung open, Stetson sweeping us back. He stepped between then stopped behind us and gently pushed us through the doors.
We walked into Mission Control. Minji gulped air and staggered. I caught her. Otherwise, I would have fainted. We had stepped into a dream. Three huge screens glowed over the entire far wall, the center one a live view of JEMISIN lit by a blaze of light. To either side, mostly incomprehensible data, charts, and tables. On the desks that stretched from the door to the front of the room, countless glowing screens, office chairs, and because it was going to be launch day, every seat had an occupant and there were people walking everywhere.
Stetson said, “Impressed?” I could barely move enough to nod and didn’t notice my mouth was hanging open. I drooled on my shirt. Wiped it and closed my mouth. “Walk with me.” He steered us forward. We stared at the screens. This was our Mission Control; the launch team of JEMISIN. We came to another door leading into a room with a glass wall. He opened the door, bowed, ushering us in. “You’ll be staying here during the launch.”
Minji said, “What?”
Stetson glared down at her and she swallowed hard and looked out through the window. “You will stay in this room until we release you sometime after the launch.”
“We don’t get to go home?” I managed, afraid Minji would say something honestly insulting.
“You’ll go home when we release you into the custody of your parents, but you’ll all be signing an NDA.”
“What?” Minji jammed her elbow into my ribs. I yelped and she said, “A Non-Disclosure Agreement. We can’t talk about anything we see her.” She smiled up at him so sweetly I about threw up.
Stet said, “Smart student.” He jerked his chin into the room. “The chairs fold down into cots. You’ll have to sleep in here. Someone will bring you a couple of rat bars.” He held the door. There were three rows of chairs. An immense glass window opened into Mission Control’s three large screens, the center was on the spotlights shining up on JEMISIN. The left hand one was on the High Carnival Midway, and the right was NASA+ livestream. Both of them were farther away than we were. Other, smaller screens with graphics and alternate images surrounded the largest ones.
But we couldn’t hear anything. Stet lifted a hand, and suddenly we heard the steady chatter of Mission Control, interrupted occasionally by classic tone “beeps”. He touched the brim of his hat, bowed, and was gone. I sighed, “We won’t get to see the launch, will we?”
Minji stared at me. “What do you mean ‘we won’t get to see the launch’? What do you think they’re watching out there? The Twins game?”
“This is friggin’ unfair! We’ll have to watch it on TV like everybody did in the olden days, not the real thing!”
Minji opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again, then plopped down on the seat next to me. “Stupid idiot.”
I couldn’t argue with her. “I sure am.”
Staring through a glass window at a giant TV monitor, we both knew there was nothing we could do about it.
Couple hours later, Stet brought us supper – not D rations, but burgers from The Barn, my favorite; plus cans of pop, and a big basket of fries. A young guy in a Space Force uniform carried in pillows and blankets, tossed them on the seats and stood back at what I knew was something called “parade rest.”
While we stuffed our faces, he said, “Bored yet?” We nodded in unison. “You’ve watched shuttle launches on TV a million times, live streamed, followed a dozen Youtube channels?” He grunted. Even that much time watching JEMISIN, knowing she was live, not even a kilometers away was old by now. He said, “That’s what you get for breaching national security. If you were eighteen, you’d both be shackled in a black van with no windows on your way to Stillwater.” He paused, hummed and said, “We caught one today.” I know my eyes bulges as I looked a Minji. “It’s what anyone gets for trying to breach national security. Prison time.”
Minji blurted, “You mean other people have tried to sneak into a High Carnival?”
He laughed. “Of course! You think you two are the first to ever try to cheat the system?”
Minji managed, “No. Of course not.”
Stet snorted, “You sure seem like you never thought about it.”
“Do lots of people try?” I said after I swallowed a huge burger bite.
“I’ve seen rooms like this all over the country jammed with people who have tried. We even have protocol for dealing with even worse types than y’all.”
“Like…like…terrorists?” Minji said. He fixed her with a long look and she looked down.
“We’ve stunned and arrested more people than you can imagine since we started High Carnival.” Stet went back to the door. “Good night, Serge. Minji.” The younger guy followed him out.
I said, “Let’s set up the beds.” She nodded as the lights in our room started to dim. Outside, out in Mission Control, they brightened. “What’s going on?” The four screens, each with six clock faces on them, each different by an hour, and two smaller faces were labeled with time zones he’d never seen. “Launch is in six hours. We should get some sleep.”
I nodded, laid down, and pulled the blanket over me. “Night.”
“Night.”
“Um…” It took me a moment before I managed to say, “I’m sorry for wrecking the whole thing.”
She didn’t say anything for a long time, so I rolled over. Suddenly, she said, “You didn’t. This isn’t quite the same thing, but we’re not even a kilometer from JEMISIN.”
“Yeah.” I said, grinning. “There’s supposed to be another High Carnival in Fargo in two summers. We’ll both be sixteen then.”
“My parents would freak out if I asked to go to Fargo with you.” Minji said. “Besides, whose car would we take?”
I shrugged. “We can dream, can’t we? Besides, Alex will’ve had his license for like, four years by then. We can tell everyone we paid him to drive us!”
She hummed and we lay in the silence with a live Mission Control on the other side of the glass, a TV with “Live COVERAGE OF THE LAUNCH OF JEMISIN Space Station Courage Mission – 162”, and knowing that if we got out of the room and ran as fast as we could, we’d probably make it to our shuttle before any of the old people could catch us on foot. Minji snored, then snorted.
I smothered a giggle.
Alex could have caught us, of course. But he was enjoying himself at the Carnival, his stupid Duluth Pack slung over his shoulder, and his buddies ducking into every corner, and checking every gate to try and get closer to JEMISIN. I snorted, “He won’t get as close as us!”
In Mission Control, someone jumped up from her monitor and hurried across the floor. We went to the window. She leaned over, started typing on someone else’s keyboard, then pointed up at one of the small screens. Several other people stood up, crowding around it. With a wave of her hand, she threw what was on the small screen to one of the larger ones. There was a person on it, running across the field – on the other side of the last fence before the launch pad. Someone stopped the replay, rewound it and watched again. They did that three more times, people waving their arms, calling out on cellphones, and generally acting…mad. Or were they excited?
Then my jaw dropped opened. I’d recognize that weird running style anywhere! I wrapped myself in my blanket, covered my mouth with both hands, and went to the glass door, leaning on it, expecting it to be locked.
It wasn’t, so I went through and into Mission Control. No one was watching and there were people shouting. I stood still when someone said, “I’m positive! I picked up the telltale right away. It’s from the last batch of supplies we sent up.”
“What if it’s a rat?” a fat, bald guy said.
Someone laughed, “A seventy-kilo rat? Awful big rat for this far north! Besides, what makes you think a rat could get past Schmitty’s scanners?”
Fat Bald frowned. “Same thing that makes me think some snot-nosed kid could get past them! They can’t unless someone’s not doing his job. Besides, nobody’s ever convinced me that this stowaway thing is a good idea! The cold equations…”
“No such thing as ‘cold equations’.” The Launch Director said. She added, “The concept of the story you’re talking about has been argued for decades with no kind of consensus. The new shuttles were built for the possibility. If someone found the Hidey, the sensor lights on everyone’s screen. If it goes out, we know they’re wandering the ship, we hunt them down by the radioactive dye on their clothing, arrest them, and turn the over to the police.”
“I still don’t like this whole…”
“It was built in a decade ago. You don’t have to like it. And it works. Tawanna would never had made it into the program in the Bad Old Days. She was second-in-command aboard BURAN.” Grumbling, he went back to his seat.
“Follow procedure! The next Tawanna might be in the box!”
“I don’t have to like it!”
She lifted her chin and said, “You don’t have to like it, Charlie. You just have to do the same wonderful job you always do.” He turned away, gesturing back at her as he dropped into the office chair at his station.
That was when she saw me. She started walking. “May I help you, young man? Maybe call Deputy Police Chief Wilder?”
I ran back to the room and closed the door looking at the clock. Three in the morning. Minji suddenly sat up, looked at me and said, “What’s going on?”
“I think someone stowed away on JEMISIN.”
“Huh. Lucky them.” She laid down, and was snoring a second later. I went to my cot and laid down, staring at the ceiling. I was sure I knew what they were talking about – or rather, who. I lay there alternating wildly between jealousy and terror until I finally drifted off to sleep.
Minji was shouting and bouncing on the bench so hard, I fell off. I sat on the floor until she pulled me to my feet. “Come on, stupid! Launch is in fifty minutes!”
I rolled on to my knees and hands, standing up so I faced away from her, adjusting my shirt and jeans. After a minute, I turned around. She said, “Command Crew came through Mission Control about thirty minutes ago and I got to see HER!”
I finally understood what she was saying. “You saw Captain Glenn? Why didn’t you wake me up?”
She glared at me, crossed her arms and said, “What do you think I’ve been trying to do?”
All of a sudden I was crying! I tried to stop, but I was tired and I knew that Alexi was on JEMISIN. Minji stepped to me and put her hand on my shoulder. That made me cry harder, and I went to the doors and pushed. They were locked again. I pounded on it, but Mission Control was busy, twice as many people trying to move around people who seemed rooted the their station chairs. Everyone ignored me and Minji.
“What’s wrong with you?” she said. All three screens now had live images of JEMISIN, one of them had a bar across the top, “CNN LIVE FROM BRAINERD INTERNATIONAL SPACEPORT NASA JEMISIN SSC-116, Mission to Space Station COURAGE”.
“Alexi’s on JEMISIN!” She screamed, and I told her everything I’d heard last night, adding, “I’d know how he runs! He’s been running like that since I first saw him at a Brainerd High School meet when I was six. The NASA security cameras picked him up and I could see from where I was standing.”
“You saw from here?”
“No! The doors were open in the middle of the night, so I went out…”
She out-and-out slugged me right then and there. “Ow!”
“Don’t ‘ow!’ me, you traitor! Why didn’t you wake me up! You got to actually go into Mission Control? That’s so unfair!” She turned her back to me and crossed her arms.
Then the sound came on the TV in our room, “Mission Control, this is JEMISIN. IMU alignment complete. We show two-eight degrees, three-six minutes; three-zero point three-two seconds north by,” there was a NASA Quindar tone – unnecessary today, but they did it for dramatic effect –“eight-zero degrees, three minutes one-four point eight-eight seconds west, over.”
I said, “I still like the Quindar tone.”
Minji glared, rolled her eyes as someone out in Mission Control replied, “Roger, JEMISIN, out.”
“Control, this is JEMISIN. Boiler supply switch – on. Over.”
In the lower corner of all of the screens was a big, T-0:50:00. “Fifty minutes,” me and Minji said in unison. I ran at the door and threw myself at it and bounced off.
“That’s acrylic plexiglass sheet,” said Minji. “About two or three-hundred-times stronger than glass. You’re lucky you didn’t knock yourself out, dumbass.”
I didn’t notice the door or her. I scrambled to my feet and shouted, “Let me out! Stop the launch! Stop the launch!”
Minji grabbed me, threw me to the ground and pinned me. I struggled at first, then started crying again. The pre-launch chatter continued. I shouted, “Lemme up! I gotta save Alexi!”
“I won’t let you up until you tell me what’s going on!”
“He snuck board JEMISIN! He’s going into space!”
She let me up and knelt beside me, staring. “He found the Hidey?”
“That’s what they called it last night!”
The launch clock was T-0:32:19. Mission Control and JEMISIN continued as if nothing was wrong, “JEMISIN, this is Mission Control. Ground Crew is secure, over.”
“Roger, Control. Out.”
“What’s gonna happen, Minji? He’s on JEMISIN. I saw him running toward it last night. So did Mission Control. They just reported him on the ship.”
She nodded slowly. “Mom says two other astronauts stowed away in the Hidey since the High Carnivals started. I never actually believed it was true.”
“What do they do with the stowaways? Not like ‘The Cold Equations’, right? I heard them arguing about that story last night.”
“Mission Control, OMS pressure on…cabin vent complete, over.”
“Roger JEMISIN, we see that, over.”
“Roger, out.”
“Control, this is JEMISIN. Commander’s voice check, over.”
A new voice said, “Control, this is Commander Mohammad Al Monsour: voice check, over.”
“Roger, Mohammad, out.”
We jumped up when someone knocked on the door, then opened it. Marisol, “You want to…”
I ran across the room and hugged her, nearly knocking her over. I tried to say everything at once, but I started to cry and she looked so shocked, she put her arm around me, jerked her chin for Minji to follow and led us into Mission Control. She leaned closer to me and said, “Honey, what’s wrong?” If anyone had told me I’d be bawling like a baby because my brother was going into space, when I obviously loathed him with every fiber of my being, I’d have beat them up.
But it was going to happen and I was going to miss him. Minji told her everything. She gave me a hanky and squeezed my shoulder. I got it all gross and said, “Sorry.”
JEMISIN said, “Mission Control, this is JEMISIN. Event timer started, over.”
“Roger that, JEMISIN, out.”
I said, “Is he really going to COURAGE?”
Marisol nodded, “Reports are that he found the Hidey. They monitored him the whole time. He’ll be fine. Anyone who finds it, and follows the video will survive a launch into orbit.”
“What’s the Hidey?” I said.
Marisol said, “It’s a launch couch NASA built into all the shuttles when they started the High Carnival program. Once he got that far, they requisitioned his medical records and if he settles into it correctly.”
NASA said, “JEMISIN, this is Control. Initiate APE prestart procedure, over.”
“Control, this is JEMISIN, we roger that, out.”
I stared at the screen for a long time. I was still leaning on Marisol. I said, “Can we go outside and watch JEMISIN lift off?”
“No, Serge. They rewrote some of those cold equations, but not that one. No one from Mission Control can go outside until the shuttle is up.”
NASA said, “JEMISIN, this is Control. You are on internal power, over.”
“Roger, out.”
“JEMISIN, this is Control. Hydraulic check complete, over.”
“Roger, out.”
“JEMISIN, this is control, Main engine gimbal complete, over.”
I said, “Will I ever see Alex again?”
Marisol shrugged. “I don’t know. Are you and Minji planning on going after him?” I looked at my best friend and we nodded in unison. “Though it won’t be this way. NASA has records of both of your DNA and biometrics.”
“I don’t want to do it the same way he did!” Minji and I said, “He’s a bum!” Marisol laughed.
NASA said, “JEMISIN, this is Control. O-2 vents closed. Looks good, over.”
“Control, this is JEMISIN, APU to inhibit, over.”
“Roger, we copy.”
“Control, this is JEMISIN. HSC is pressurized and sealed.”
“Roger JEMISIN, we copy. Notification of SLG acknowledged.”
“That was about your brother,” said Marisol. “HSC is the Human Stowaway Compartment. SLG is Stowaway’s Legal Guardian’s and they were contacted and have given their acknowledgement. Your brother should survive liftoff as long as he doesn’t panic.”
“What?” I exclaimed.
She shrugged. “If he doesn’t, NASA will notify your parents. He’s a legal adult and knew what he was doing – he had to read several dozen documents and initial each one before he could ever get anywhere near the shuttle plans that showed where the HSC was.”
“What if he dies?” Minji said when I continued to stand with my mouth open.
“As I said, NASA will notify his parents that he was killed during the liftoff of NASA mission SSC-162.” She paused, adding, “But if Alexi is as strong-willed as his little brother, I expect he’ll be just fine.”
Minji said, “Serge is more stubborn. What do they do when Alexi gets up there – assuming he’s alive.”
I glared at Minji, but she only grinned. Marisol said, “He’ll be welcomed, removed from JEMISIN, sent to the International Space Station, yelled at, threatened, and dropped down to Earth in a Soyuz escape pod. It’s a rough trip, but most people survive it. Of course, he does get points on his application to NASA once he gets a master’s degree in something useful. Then he can apply to NASA or Space Force like anyone else.”
NASA said, “JEMISIN, this is Control. APU start is go. You are on your on-board computer, over.”
“Roger, out.”
“Five, four – we have main engine start,” flame exploded from the engine bells, blindingly bright even in the brilliant morning sunshine, “…two, one, zero, SRB ignition, lift off!”
The solid rocket boosters flamed and as the timer hit 0:00:00, JEMISIN lifted clear of the launch pad. Brainerd shook all around us.
NASA said, “The tower has been cleared, JEMISIN. All engines look good.”
Then our shuttle was racing into the sky like it couldn’t wait to get into space. Shortly, NASA said, “Instituting roll-over maneuver.” There was a pause, then NASA said, “Roll maneuver complete. JEMISIN, you look good.”
Over a staticky roar came a voice, “Control, this is JEMISIN. Main engines at sixty-five percent, over.”
The TV showed our shuttle climbing into the sky.
With my brother. My breath caught in my chest with a little hiccup, but I didn’t cry, so I heard, “Mission Control, this is JEMISIN. We are single engine press to MECO.”
“Roger, JEMISIN, out.”
I looked at Minji long enough to see she was crying. I turned away. If she knew I’d seen her, she’d have to break my arms.
“JEMISIN, this is Control. Main engine throttle down, over.”
“Roger, Control, out.” One of the outdoor cameras was pointing at the grandstands. No one was moving, everyone looking up, hands shading their eyes from the sun, as if frozen in place, watching their shuttle, the JEMISIN. I even saw Alexi’s buddy Phil. I wonder if he knew Alexi was there, heading into outer space?
“What now?” I whispered.
“This is where we say, ‘Good-bye’, my friends,” said Marisol. She opened the glass door into Mission Control.
“Can we still follow what’s going on with our shuttle?” Minji said.
“Well, this Mission Control crew is done for four weeks while the next crew sets up for the next High Carnival. Make sure you log in and follow the mission of JEMISIN.” Then she started to laugh.
Minji looked irritated, then Marisol said, “Honey, I’m not laughing at you! I’m laughing for the sheer joy of you and Luis and most of the other people who watched the launch up close will call the JEMISIN their shuttle; and it will be their crew; and their mission! That’s like music to my ears, like a fine symphony, or the summer Irish Fair on Harriet Island in the Mississippi!” She walked, we followed, then left Mission Control drifting into he warm, sweet air of summer.
There was a police car outside, with Chief Deputy Police Chief leaning against it. He stood up straight as he said, “About time!” and opened the rear door, gesturing us in.
“Where are we going?” said Minji.
“Both of your parents are expecting you back in Crosby, I should think. After they finish talking to NASA,” he looked at me. “They said what they needed to say about Alexi several hours ago.” Stet walked around and got into the driver’s seat.
Marisol gestured and the window rolled down as she leaned over, saying, “Sir.” He lifted his chin.
“See you!” I said.
“Thank you,” said Minji.
Marisol harrumphed and said, “I expect we will see each other again.” She looked at Minji. “You’re welcome, young lady.”
The windows rolled closed and Stet drove along the high fence. Minji and me looked at each other, grinning. The way I see it, Marisol would be head of security by the time we saw her at one the High Carnivals as astronauts. I looked through the window and into the sky, but I couldn’t see the vapor trail of my shuttle and my crew anymore. I whispered so Minji wouldn’t hear, “I’m proud of you, brother. See you soon.”
END
