Lavender Glass

Part One – Daytona Beach USA

Mackenzie stood in front of the simulator control board, looking up at the various lights, switches, and buttons. The control board was mostly unlit, lifted up at an angle, and the simulator bubble was completely open and unlocked. Several of the controls were showing an alarm during the last few runs, and it bugged her, more than a little. She tapped the master alarm, looking slightly over to the left at the hydraulic ready systems board. “I’d really like to know why we’re getting the alarm Brian,” she said with a frown. Astronaut Mackenzie Ann Miller was about to go on a routine satellite inspection run, and with over fifty runs without a problem, she wanted to keep it that way. Mackenzie liked taking no chances. “If it’s showing a fault on the simulator,” she mused, “we might have a defective hydraulic interface.” She reached up and took her keychain out of the main yoke, slipping it off and with one motion wrapping it around her wrist.

Mackenzie smiled and waved with her right arm up at the command window, the keychain’s little troll dangling off her arm. The pink haired tiny creature seemed to be winking and waving at Brian too. He groaned as he squatted back down to pick up his toolcase. “I’m telling you Mac,” he implored, “it’s just a programming malfunction.” Brian knew these systems better than anyone. “We don’t have exactly every system online for the simulator this time.” They’d had to scale back, partly because of an almost complete scrapping of NASA’s shuttle program. The National Administration for Space and Aeronautics wasn’t the same anymore. Mars was the current target now, so shuttle operations for satellites often took a back seat. It was important but regarded much like the troll on Mackenzie’s wrist, superficial to some degree.

“We’ll be ready and green across the board in the pod,” Brian assured her. “I don’t care what it takes, you won’t have that false alarm with any loss of operation,” he continued, “if you even get it in flight.” Mackenzie frowned as she walked up the stairs to the command platform, taking them with rigid, short steps. “I’d better not,” she told him as he closed the door, exiting the command center. She fist bumped Brian, then reached and swiped her arm at the pass interface next to the door. It made an electronic swooshing sound and beeped, as the bolt on the door slid into place. The troll contained a magnet in its belly that triggered most of the pass interfaces in this part of the building. “You owe me a deep-dish pizza if I lose hydraulics in flight,” Mackenzie said.

“Ahhh…” Brian shook his head as he walked down the steps past her. He took out his wallet, and then some money from it. “I don’t believe that’s exactly fair,” he continued, “if NASA pays me this much,” he made a motion with the money he’d pulled out. About seven Benjamins waved in the air. “I think you should offer a little more respect.” They walked across the concrete floor of the hangar, to the door on the far side. “Ooh, make it rain,” Mackenzie teased, rolling her eyes. Brian didn’t want to get hustled. NASA’s chief engineer wasn’t terribly interested in splurging for their top astronaut’s dinner, when a loss of hydraulics wasn’t even necessarily his fault. Unfortunately, a malfunctioning alarm might be. “If I can’t get you in flight all green,” he told her, “then you can hold me to a pizza.” Mackenzie smiled. “You’re on then,” she said. Brian looked down at the pink haired creature hanging from her arm. “But you’re buying if you get no problems with an alarm the entire time,” he told her.

Mackenzie laughed and followed him out the door. A short set of stairs led to the exit level, a small platform with doors north and west. “I’ve got to get home,” she said, “speaking of food.” She walked over to the north door that led to the locker room and showers. “See you tomorrow then?” she asked as she opened the door. Brian waved at her, badge in hand, and swiped it to unlock the door on the west side. “It’s a date,” he agreed, “someone’s eating at least.” He smiled and opened the door. “See you tomorrow,” he said, nodding to her, then walking through. The door latched behind him as Mackenzie and her troll entered the changing and staging area at NASA.

The hallway’s fluorescent lighting only flickered a little, automatically triggered by motion sensors above each door. The sterile looking white hallway had two doors on the left, and one on the right, along with one at the other end. A bright green EXIT light hung above the door. Anyone working in the building knew the light could be red or green, and you weren’t supposed to leave when the light was red without clearance. Mackenzie had spent most of the afternoon with the simulator, and really wanted to get home. She was grateful the light was green, meaning she could leave the building immediately and get home sooner. That was assuming it didn’t change while she was finishing up, so she decided to skip the showers on the left and entered the locker room on the right. The light remained on while she went to her locker, opened it, and began to pull off the flight suit.

Mackenzie quickly folded her flight suit, placing it on the shelf at the top of her locker. A framework for the more advanced suits that NASA now used hung on a hook at the bottom of the shelf. On the inside of her door, was a mirror her friend’s daughter made for her. It had a white balsa wood frame, with little purple and pink balsa wood flowers glued along its edges. The mirror was about nine by five inches, not the best choice for makeup purposes, but perfect for the inside of Mac’s locker. Rosa had put a lot of time and effort into the mirror. Her friend Sara’s daughter suffered from muscular dystrophy and grew up in a wheelchair from the age of three. There were good days and bad days, and the mirror was made during a particularly good week. The first mission after she’d put the mirror into her locker, there was a fire in the shuttle on reentry. She’d noticed the fire almost immediately, caught up looking at her reflection in the flames outside from the shuttle’s heat shielding, and thinking of the mirror. A lighting conduit had ruptured and started smoldering from the sparks. Mackenzie put out the fire with no delay and disconnected the wiring. What could easily have been a disaster was no consequence at all. She considered the mirror good luck from that point, and her left hand touched her lips, and then the mirror, just before she closed her locker.

Mackenzie walked out, fortunate the EXIT light still shone green. She walked to the end of the hallway, and pushed on the bar of the door, leaning against it as she opened the door and stepped out into the evening light. It was still fairly bright outside in Daytona, but the sun had some time gone below the horizon. It would likely be dark long before she got home. “Damn,” she said as she looked at the surf in the distance. She walked over to her car, one of the few still left in the parking lot. Brian had finished packing away his gear and caught up to her, his car parked only a few spaces away. “I’ll be sure to get pepperoni and pineapple on mine,” he told her as he pressed the button on his key fob. The Prius alarm chimed as the door unlocked. “Chicago style,” he added, “don’t get weirded out on me.” He smiled at her and got in, starting the engine. Mackenzie shook her head as she did the same, anxious to get home and even hungrier now. She hoped for greens all the way home, thinking it was likely a pizza night herself.

The Florida night was fairly humid, even by Florida standards, so she put the top down on her pink mustang as she backed out of the lot. The engine roared as she put the car in gear, turning left on Bellevue toward the blue and white little houses on the waterfront, just off Seabreeze. Hers was right on the water’s edge, and she debated whether she should take Nova north through the gardens and hit Krispy Kreme. Mackenzie was definitely hungry, having skipped most meals of the day either tinkering with, or in, the simulator. Taking a trip through the gardens probably meant using Mason to jump the Halifax though, since Krispy Kreme’s parking lot only worked in one direction, so she elected on passing through Nova instead. The mustang roared again just before she shifted into fourth, heading out past the park.

It was a busy night, so although Mac was speeding a little, she paid extra careful attention to things around her. The car’s engine nearly putted in the bottom of fourth gear, a deep rumble through the neighborhood. Soon she reached and turned left onto MLK, her stomach rumbling almost the same as her car. “Ugh,” she thought to herself, “why did he have to mention pizza?” The mustang accelerated a little going north up the boulevard, soon passing through Orange. The star at the speedway loomed close, and she gratefully made another right when she reached it, glad that she would be home soon.

Not many knew about the quiet little facility at the weather service, just outside the main airport. NASA had kept its shuttle operations secret for some time, and Mackenzie was lucky to be the astronaut at such a post. They’d kept to early morning runs, the new rocket boosters allowing for launches with much less visible pyrotechnics, and therefore minimal paparazzi. In fact, three times now Mac and a team member had gone up into orbit without anyone knowing, and when someone did see, nobody thought it was a space shuttle. Cameras were no longer desired.

NASA wasn’t interested in the space program in the same way anymore. Exploration and discovery were more a thing of the private sector now, although the Mars rover projects were still publicly operating. Such missions didn’t use astronauts, and were a combination of radio and remote operations. Shuttles launched from her post carried her along with another astronaut or technician (usually the latter), and were quietly servicing mostly satellites.

Mackenzie sighed as she pulled into the driveway, and put the top back down on her mustang. After getting out, she looked back in the direction of the facility (a good fifteen minutes away) once more before pulling out the troll at the front door. Her door worked much the same way as pass interfaces at the facility, and the troll’s frequency triggered the small set of magnets that controlled a panel to her lock. The panel slid open, she put in her key, and opened the door as she turned the key in the lock.

Walking in the door, she placed the troll on the key rack and closed it, the pink haired creature no longer useful. Another panel slid open next to the door on the inside, and Mackenzie entered her pin, causing the bolt to latch. She walked through the short hallway into the living room, a fairly large area with a fireplace on the north side and an entertainment center complete with TV on the south wall. The center held a squat glass table, with strange looking indentations where guests were expected to rest their feet, instead of getting the table dirty. The entire west side consisted of a glass patio overlooking the Halifax. Her front hallway had no doors, but on the south side another hallway extended to a single bathroom and bedroom. The right side went into a fairly large kitchen. Mac’s house had no formal dining area; like the troll, it was every bit as much beauty as function.

She looked out at the view, the sun beginning to set, making a wash of orange and purple colors in the clouds outside her patio. Pulling out her phone and ordering not only pizza, but wings, Mac checked the fridge. There was plenty of beer, and a little milk. Astronauts notoriously showed up hung over, and although that wasn’t Mackenzie, she still decided on the IPA over the milk. She flopped down on the couch, setting her beer on one side and the phone on the right. Mac rarely used the strange footrests, instead lying along the couch, looking out at the now nearly over sunset. The deck had a bluish tint in the dimming light, and one could hear a few birds, looking for a last few bits of food before returning to their nesting places.

It wasn’t long before the food arrived, and three beers plus a whole large pizza and four wings later, Mac slowly drug herself into the hallway, and flopped onto bed. Her night went fairly uneventfully after that, and she had a decent night’s sleep with few dreams. The only exception was a memory of an image gazing up at a starry sky, standing on her patio. Strangely, the night was filled with flaming colors in the dream, but it being a dream, Mackenzie paid it little mind.

Shortly after rising, Mac rushed out her door, stopping only briefly in the living room to down a beer from the night before. She paid little attention to anything along the lines of makeup or getting ready. It seemed odd to her to worry about one’s teeth, unless they were full of food from the night before, or one’s hair or much else, if you were going to be orbiting the planet. Heading back through the hallway from her bed, she pulled down the troll, again wrapping it with one arm twirl around her wrist. She then placed her thumb on the panel, causing it to slide open. Entering her pin unlatched the bolt, and Mackenzie left her house, waving the troll at the door as she walked out. The bolt clicked again, and the key fob started the car, as NASA’s brightest roared the pink mustang into action, and backed down the driveway. Mac popped a mint from the glovebox as she put the car into gear forward, not wanting the beer to draw any unwanted attention on her breath, in the (unlikely) event she got pulled over.

She rushed back to the facility, but kept under the speed limit, and arrived back at what everyone thought was a weather center without incident. The place looked not much different than usual, nothing sinister nor spectacular. Materials, including the booster assembly, had arrived the night before. The launch platform, shuttle, and additional pods used as flight operations would show up this evening, well into nightfall. Once it was dark, about ten or so, the remaining facility would be assembled. Launch was set for 0100 hours tomorrow. By three in the morning, most of the temporary shuttle pad and all but two pods would be gone. When the sun rose the next day, Mackenzie would already be in space, and in the process of accessing a control panel on a highly advanced technology communications satellite. Beyond the pods, people who came and went would only see the weather station, unaware of the mission above.

Mackenzie went straight to the simulator, this time thinking of eating more than the day before. The beer was beginning to sour her stomach, and water seemed like a good idea as well. She took out her phone and started scrolling through food options, groaning slightly as she remembered the policy regarding deliveries. She needed to get approval from someone else before ordering, and there might be specifics or difficulties depending on who was available. Brian wasn’t authority, but fortunately for Mac, Col. Riley was on hand. Riley had commanded a few of Mackenzie’s earlier missions, back when she was an Air Force lieutenant. He was also in charge of this particular mission. Mac was about to make major, but until she did, her authority began with, and ended at, the pod and shuttle. Col. Riley had no problem with Uber Eats, provided he got to add something, and unlike many he would probably pay his share. She added a hoagie for him to her sandwich and water order, and dropped her phone into her pocket, putting the key in and starting the simulator. She pulled her hand free of the chain, and the pink haired troll dangled back and forth as the electronics came online.

“Don’t you think you’re ready already?” Riley asked her. He understood her insistence on striving for perfection but felt she sometimes took it a bit far. Besides, there was a huge difference between the simulator and the pod. New tech and gadgets had recently been added and needed to be tested, not to mention the training involved, but the ultimate test would be in space. Mackenzie didn’t like not taking advantage of new and improved, especially when it worked. Until she was in the pod, the simulator was the closest she could get. Mac wanted to know things inside and out before she had to rely on them in the harsh, cold and unforgiving environment she was returning to.

“Take chances, die, and make SportsCenter,” Mackenzie replied, quoting the saying Riley himself used on most of the missions he ran with her. “But take no chances…” she continued. He joined in at that point, and finished the saying with her. “Come home, and watch someone else on SportsCenter,” the two said in unison. Riley shook his head and shrugged. “Just don’t get bored on me when it’s time to go up there,” he added with an upwards nod.

Mackenzie smiled and gave a short laugh, rolling her eyes at him. “That’s not very likely,” she said, “and I know, it leads to careless mistakes.” Boredom wasn’t really something known to her. Riley was mostly just giving her a hard time.

The simulator had fully come to life, and Mac pulled down the arm that moved the control board into place. The bubble closed around her, and she slid into the seat as the simulator locked into position. The remainder of the lights and mechanisms came online, and she began pushing buttons on some of the more advanced equipment. Brian had just shown up, along with his toolcase, and went directly to the interfaces between the simulator and the main computer systems in the command center. He waved slightly at Mackenzie as he began to check some of the wiring. She was making him wait by being in the simulator bubble, since he was there to reconnect things for the actual launch. “You know I have to take this offline at some point,” he called out to her, “and setup the interface for the actual pod comm.” 

“I know,” she replied, “I just wish they’d used the simulator comm system instead.” She finished checking the systems she was interested in, mostly simply ensuring procedure was memory, and began to power down the simulator pod. “We ready then?” she asked him. There was a routine physical she had to take, and a battery of tests that were always given last minute, to make sure everything was fresh in mind. Brian and Mac would have little opportunity to talk, if any, and therefore no way for her to deliver her complaints, once she left for the final prep as it was called. “Everything’s good,” he told her, “including that alarm.” He turned back to the wiring, applying a small pliers to a clamp as he began to disconnect the simulator. “And if they used the simulator comm,” he joked, “they’d never probably get you in the real pod.”

Mackenzie laughed as she disengaged the simulator, and lifted the arm unlocking the bubble. She pulled the key out, and dangled the chain on her wrist as usual. “It’s space Brian,” she said, “I think most would be happy to go.” Brian himself laughed at that point. “Well Bindy doesn’t have much choice,” he said, pointing at the troll on her keychain. “Funny thing, putting a marker device in a troll,” Brian added. Mackenzie shrugged. “I don’t think he minds,” she replied, “since his mind is a marker device, and he didn’t have one before.” She slid off the chair, and the bubble opened the rest of the way, literally popping her out of it. 

“It’s cute at least,” Brian admitted. The pink haired troll came from a little gift shop at the airport. With permission, it was fitted with the marker device, and functioned as a pass interface letting her come and go from most of the places she was allowed. It definitely fit her personality, and the hair color nearly matched her ride.

After a short visit to the locker room, Mackenzie walked outside to one of the pods in the parking lot, where a small medical center and classroom had been setup. The tests were mostly physical, ensuring that an astronaut was not only in proper physical shape, but attuned to the strangeness of conditions aboard the shuttle (or in the pod). There were a number of written tests, an eye exam, and some physical examinations one would prefer to do without. Nothing particularly invasive was in order, save the enema. Astronauts could go up on a full belly or empty; it made little difference to the zero gravity. It used to be, that one could pass or take the enema, although few passed. Having to poo in space was not difficult, but an unwieldy thing and far from private. Various things, like inertial forces, could make one have to suddenly go, and the enema usually prevented such a situation. Nowadays, it was fairly standard, and nobody even considered opting out (or trying). Lots of things could, and often did, happen in the vacuum of space. The invasive part wasn’t until later, however, and after several hours it was time for her final “meal” before going into space. Mac was grateful for the sandwich a moment ago. Once she finished with the not too terrible, but definitely not strawberry, shake, she returned to the locker room to wait.

A clock on the wall above the door chimed, the time reading 1800 in bright green letters. In four hours, final preparations would begin. The launching platform would be ready for Mackenzie in just over six hours, and the last few tests, these mostly written, would begin in just over four. She sighed, thinking about this wait, and wishing there was more than her phone to pass the time.

Being stuck in the locker room was more in her mind than anything. Another pod featured a full exercise area, complete with a very decent variety of free weights and even a treadmill. A virtual reality based movie was showing, and although popcorn was out of the question, the movies were usually pretty good. Mackenzie wanted to be up there at this point, and beyond the simulator, everything else became rather boring once she was committed to the facility. She was anxious, but not at all bored with her phone, what with it keeping the time.

A few hours later, Cpt. Stanley Watson walked into the locker room, just as she received a text from Riley. As it turned out, the Chinese no longer wanted to send a technician up on the run. Chances were, they simply didn’t want to spend the money to drive someone up from Miami, the closet spot where a tech would likely come from. Even more likely, the closest trusted option was still in mainland China. Mac wasn’t bothered in the least. She would rather have another astronaut with her, especially one she knew well, and smiled at Stan when he entered the room. “Looks like the tech isn’t coming,” she said, “guess it’s just us.” Stan went to his locker, and pulled out his flight suit, along with the skeleton frame for the space suit.

“Yeah,” Stan added, “you know why everything is made in China.” Mackenzie rolled her eyes at him. “Maybe so,” she replied, “but that’s pretty racist.” Stan wasn’t really thinking it had anything to do with race at all. “It’s not the people or being Asian,” he went on, “it’s the Chinese government being so cheap.” 

China had quite an interesting position in the whole affair. They had built the satellite in question, but it was NASA that put it up there. A new type of technology, exclusive to the Chinese, was featured onboard that allowed unprecedented signal transmission and bandwidth. The single monstrosity could broadcast over most of the entire eastern world, including almost all of Europe, Asia, and most of Africa. Intermittent communication with Japan and Australia was possible too, and the capabilities of the satellite had little to do with its size. Advanced computers and a very unique form of optic processing, with two beam antennas, allowed the range and provided large bandwidth access to many different countries. China already had several relay satellites in ideal position to bounce signals over the western world, and other areas where it didn’t reach. For getting it up into space, and running point on service calls, the USA and NASA were given the largest amount of bandwidth, and signal priority. For signal capacity, most countries were charged (often exorbitant) fees, India being an exception that received a payment to the World Bank in their index. Racism had little to do with Stan’s remark; they were the ones gaining at almost every angle and opportunity.

“Well I hope you’re briefed on the problem,” she told him, “because they haven’t told me much.” She smiled coyly at him. “I’m just the pilot.” Stan threw the skeleton over his shoulder after having pulled on his flight suit. “Yeah, I got details,” he said to her, “but you do know how to access the panel, right?” 

Mackenzie laughed and went to her locker to get her gear. “Yeah, I got details,” she joked. Stan made a face. “Hey,” he replied, “that’s not cool.” He wasn’t impressed with the way she made fun of him, being a copycat. His feelings weren’t hurt, it just made him sound a little stupid. “I’m the official Chinese substitute teacher,” he said in a huff. Mackenzie laughed even harder at this, and almost fell into her locker trying to pull up the flight suit. 

“You’re funny,” she said, as she finished up and grabbed her skeleton too. “I hope substitute teachers aren’t better in China,” she added, “then they are here.”

The two left the locker room, headed for the pods outside. The launch assembly and pad had arrived and were slowly being assembled. In about fifteen minutes or so, the assembly would ramp up, with additional teams helping not only to speed the process, but double check work. Even though going into space had become a somewhat routine thing for NASA, they never took any chances with safety. Almost every system was redundant on more than one level, and extra work was done on account of the entire thing being built mostly from scratch. Mackenzie and Stan had a few more things to go through before launching into space, this time, it included the enema. 

Most of the tests at this point were written in nature, going over most of the technical information, along with a large number of final checks before fully suiting up. Mac got more details regarding the problem, and was informed that some sort of malfunction had occurred. Her and Stan were to remove the access panel, take out the faulty component, and replace it. Cmdr. Miller was only required to get them up there, with Stan’s help, and provide access by taking off the panel, then reattaching it. It was Cpt. Watson’s job to repair the satellite. Still, some of the technical information provided quite a bit of detail regarding the nature of the how the satellite worked.

The commander pored through most of the technical data, skimming it, but a few sections she read in detail. “Huh,” Mackenzie said to herself out loud, “kind of a scary way to do optics in hardware.” 

Mackenzie was no slouch intellectually, especially in physics and optics. It was the primary reason why she was chosen for the main team that would do most of the maintenance. She easily understood the new technology, a form of optical quantum computing. Today was the first time she’d taken a good look at it. The basic thinking was a means of bouncing signals above the atmosphere with more capacity, and less need for shielding. Yet something had gone wrong, and the satellite no longer functioned on all bands. It was assumed that a glitch caused by detective hardware was the source of the problem, but Mac wasn’t so sure. Lots of things could happen in space. It couldn’t be restated enough. Until they were up there, nobody’s knowledge necessarily included the actual problem.

It wasn’t much later when both Mackenzie and Stan were in the launch pod, being fitted with their spacesuits. Astronauts now used a skeleton that fitted over their flight suit, with various components attached to the skeleton. Once complete, the suit was completely sealed with redundant fittings at almost every location. Technology had advanced quite a bit, but astronauts still had to deal with bulky and heavy gear to some degree. The two left the pod and headed for the platform when everything was in order, after a brief radio check.

“Breaker one nine to bravo eat shit,” Stan said. Mackenzie sighed. “Yeah congratulations on the idiot of the year award Stan,” she replied, looking over at him with a smile. 

The short walk over the launching pad wasn’t terribly difficult, but it wasn’t easy either. Stan was a little out of breath as he crawled inside the shuttle port. “A bit winded old man?” Mackenzie asked. Stan grunted a little as he reached his hand out to help pull her into the shuttle. “Not at all little lady,” he replied with a smile. Once they were inside, they climbed the ladderway into the cockpit. Probably the hardest part was getting into not only the seats, but latching in and getting situated for launch. The pad didn’t have the same number of personnel from earlier launches, mostly to help keep things quiet, so getting into the shuttle was the commander’s responsibility. 

Mackenzie struggled slightly as she adjusted herself in her seat. “Little trouble there?” Stan asked. He was obviously into poking fun during the mission, which was fine with Mac. She tugged on the straps, trying to get them down far enough to snap into the buckle. “Not really,” she replied, “unless you count the fact they shortened the seat belts on me.” She pulled harder, tugging in short bursts of strength, until both stretching and the pushing down on her outer suit gave enough room. “Sometimes I think this stuff is made in China too,” she added. Stan laughed as he flopped down into his seat. “You know the shuttle is American made,” Stan said as he got his own buckles over his suit.

“Yeah,” Mac said, struggling still as she buckled the latch, “probably in North Dakota.” Stan laughed loudly, making it a bit more difficult for him as well. “Or Kansas,” he added as he snapped the clasp and pulled the small lever on the buckle a few times. The lever worked like a ratchet, tightening the belt a little with each pull. “We’re definitely racist today,” Mackenzie told him, “that’s for sure.” She broke into a Julie Andrews impersonation. “Oh my Toto, are we gonna ride on a rocket?” Both of them laughed. Mackenzie worked the lever on her own buckle twice. “You better pull that at least two more times commander,” he replied with a snicker, “watch that girlish figure.” She rolled her eyes at him as she tugged in a few places on her suit. “You know I think it’s good,” she said. Mac reached up and started pushing buttons, powering up the more basic systems. “Let me know if you need a diaper change mid-flight,” she added. 

“If you two are done arguing about our equipment, and delegating wet nurses,” Riley’s voice came over their radio, “we’re ready here to go through a systems check.” 

Mackenzie frowned at Stan, then reached over to grab her helmet from where it hung, a small post sticking out of a swooping division in the center of the shuttle cockpit. “Now you’ve got us in trouble Stan,” she declared. Mac fastened the helmet over her head, working the ring until it made a loud click. She pressed the main power startup sequence buttons. “I’m game Riley, main power and primary computer already showing in the green.” The button’s green illuminator on the PRI/COM button flickered slightly. The two sets of three letters were divided by a black line that had a marked nick on the right side, mostly from Mackenzie’s nail on her left thumb. She looked back over at Stan for a moment before continuing. “Tell Brian I need an LED changed,” she said, “might as well go through the whole set, but so far just on PRI/COM.”

“Roger that Mac,” Col. Riley responded, “let’s bring up the rest of the avionics.” Mackenzie pressed several more buttons, activating a variety of systems online, including the video camera interface and powering up flight controls. One by one, buttons illuminated white in most cases, and then going to green, or beginning in that color. She flipped a switch labeled DIVERT 1, and then pressed a button labeled MAIN/HYD. The button flickered white for a brief moment, then turned to green. Mackenzie flipped the other switches labeled DIVERT, located almost behind her head, and then paused looking at the green MAIN/HYD button a moment. “Mac I’m showing power to pod hydraulics,” Riley indicated over the radio, “you running a divert test without saying over there?” Mackenzie winked at Stan. She then returned all the switches to their proper flight position. “Could be Cpt. Watson,” she replied, “I’m not sure what you mean.” Riley knew better. “Sure,” he told them both, “we’ll have the court martial ready for you later, Watson.” Stan’s jaw dropped slightly at the sarcasm. “Colonel!” he retorted. The colonel laughed slightly as he took a drink of water and added a question over the radio. “Should I tell Brian you’ve got full green on the hydraulics?” he asked Mackenzie. 

“I mean while you’re at it,” Mackenzie said, “and maybe he could do the windows when we get back?” Riley laughed so loud that Stan winced from the sound. “Will do,” he replied, “but it sounds like you might be buying dinner.” She proceeded to light up the remaining controls on the shuttle, confirming each system as it came online. “We’re not quite back yet,” she added.

Crew and equipment were all in position, just as Mac finished with the remaining avionics tests. Stan began to check secondary systems, after verifying that their oxygen and computers checked out. “Looks like we’re okay on air,” he told Riley on the radio, “computers online all green.” A whooshing sound came from behind them, as airlocks engaged and the cabin pressurized slightly. There was a deep rumble as the boosters engaged, preparing to ignite. “We are flight ready Daytona,” Cmdr. Miller said, as she finished powering up the shuttle. 

“Confirmed Paradigm,” Riley responded, “stand by for go flight and ignition.” Riley proceeded to confirm ready status with all the personnel in the telemetry pod where he was stationed, and ultimately responsible for the entire mission. “Launching pad go for flight,” the final station called out moments later. Riley nodded. “Looks like we’re ready down here,” he said, “we are go flight Paradigm.” He inserted a key into the control panel he was at, then turned it and lifted a clear box covering a single yellow switch. “Prepare for ignition in…” he trailed off as he began to count down from ten. 

Mackenzie and Stan took hold of the straps across their chest, making sure not to get their thumbs under the strap. Gravitational forces would easily reach what one would experience on a roller coaster, though not nearly as extreme as some of the wilder rides. Still, a thumb caught under a strap during a shake would at minimum hurt, at worst result in a sprain or dislocated thumb. It wouldn’t end a mission, but a tweaked thumb would make things all the more difficult, not to mention quite painful.

The shuttle rumbled and shook as the rocket boosters ignited. Once the boosters were at full burn, the launching pad would release the shuttle as it rose into the air, usually only after a few seconds. “Prepare for launch Paradigm,” Riley reported, “launch release in three…two…one.” There was a loud bang, followed by a rattle, as the pad’s clamps and attached components broke away from the shuttle. “Whoo beans Stan,” Mackenzie cried as the shuttle began to rise, “we are riding fire!” The shuttle ride smoothed out as it accelerated, the rumble and rattle slowly seeming to change into a pressure on the astronauts, as inertial forces increased. 

Mackenzie had done this a million times it seemed, but each time it always excited her. “Yeeaah!” she screamed, as the shuttle slowly began to lift off. Stan flipped up a clear panel. Underneath was a button labeled FIDO, and a red switch with two labeled positions. The top said FLIGHT and the bottom ORBITER. Stan moved the switch from the ORBITER position. “Fido has the ball,” Stan called out over the radio. “Confirmed Paradigm,” Riley replied, “we have you on trajectory.” “Prepare for boom Mac,” he said. Mackenzie pushed both throttle levers to their limit. “We are going full burn,” she said, “ready for sound barrier.” She looked over at the instrumentation for the autopilot. “All systems are mission control,” she added, pressing the autopilot engage. A smile was on her face as she looked over at Stan, punching him and making a face. Her eyes were wide, and she made an open-mouthed look of fake surprise at her copilot.

“Recommend the senior engineer stop making bets with the skipper,” Cpt. Watson said, “she’s already too hyphy.” Riley shook his head back in the command center. “That’s a negative Captain,” Riley responded. Stan seemed a bit put out until Riley continued. “We need bets she might lose.” This time Stan laughed, and Mac feigned a worried face. “Gotta find one first,” Mackenzie said, her smile immediately returning. 

Paradigm rumbled and began to shake as it crossed the sound barrier. “Approaching max Q,” Mackenzie said. The vibrations inside the cockpit had reached maximum intensity, and the two astronauts shook as the shuttle continued to rise. “Roger that Mac,” Riley replied, “MCOS adjusting throttle.” Riley entered a command on his console, causing the shuttle’s main engines to throttle back slightly. The autopilot engage button changed to yellow, then back to white, as the computer received information from mission control. The computer onboard the shuttle then took over, and continued to reduce throttle to keep the stress on the shuttle under dangerous limits.

“Paradigm at max Q,” Stan added a moment later. He adjusted several controls, balancing the pressure in the cockpit. “Waiting for falloff to continue to stage two.” The shuttle would eventually reach an area of the atmosphere, in just over two and a half minutes, where the air was exceptionally thin. It wasn’t quite another layer, but very close. Once they reached it, stress on the shuttle’s frame would greatly decrease, allowing acceleration to continue to increase. The two waited for the falloff, as Mackenzie disengaged the autopilot control. 

Stan checked the readouts. “Shuttle integrity showing 90%,” he reported. Paradigm continued to rise, and soon reached falloff. The rumble and shake went away almost completely, as Mackenzie pushed the throttle back to full. “Anybody complain,” she suddenly added, “and I turn it up even louder.” She reached down below her seat, pulling the ancient MP3 player from underneath it. Mac struggled a bit with it, the G forces beginning to rise again. She plugged it in to her suit, and pushed play after some scrolling through songs. Within seconds, “My Shit Bang” by E-40 was blasting through the radio for her, and not as loud, but genuinely super audible for everyone else, including mission control. Stan was less than impressed. “It looks like we have a bad selector on the music choice panel,” he added almost yelling, eyes fixed on the readout. 

“Is that a complaint?” Mackenzie asked as she turned the volume up all the way. It wasn’t so loud that it completely interfered with communications, but Stan wished he’d kept the sarcasm to himself. “Just reporting on our status commander,” he replied with a completely straight face, definitely yelling this time. 

In a few moments, the shuttle would finish its acceleration, and in just a few more, their SRBs would burn out. “Acceleration steady,” Mackenzie reported, “showing SRB at 20% remaining.” Stan started engaging the controls on the solid rocket booster clamps. “Ready to disengage on mission control mark,” he added. Paradigm continued to rise, as the two astronauts rode out the G forces. 

“We have you on prime trajectory Paradigm,” Riley said, “prepare for SRB separation.” Stan reached up, and placed his hand near the button labeled SRB/XO. “Ready for SRB separation,” he replied. The rocket boosters sputtered their last few bits of fuel. “On my mark,” Riley announced. He waited until they were almost empty, then called out for separation. Stan pressed the button, and the solid rocket booster clamps released. A few seconds later, the SRBs were falling, headed for the Atlantic.

“SRBs away,” Stan reported, “standing by for main tank separation.” Mackenzie placed her right hand by the throttle. On her side, laying at an angle, was a rather large toggle switch. It had no handle, and looked very much like an oversized light switch, but curved instead of flat. The word THROTTLE was above the switch, and below it the words MAIN TANK. Currently it was in the up position. Stan moved his hand slightly to the right, and over the button labeled MT/XO. “Main tank is at 10%,” Mackenzie said, “ready for coast on empty.” 

The main tank was almost out of fuel, and it was about time to begin coasting the rest of the way into space. Mackenzie moved her hand around the switch, and in a few seconds an alarm began to sound. The button under Stan’s fingers began to flash red, and Mac flipped the throttle main tank switch off. “Ejecting primary tank,” Stan reported as his hand pressed the button, cutting off the alarm. Mackenzie reached forward and pulled all the way back on the throttle. “Main engine cutoff,” she said, and Paradigm continued to climb on its inertia. Mac cut off her MP3 player and disconnected it.

The remaining part of the climb was fairly smooth, and soon the shuttle was high above earth, in the upper layers of the atmosphere. The two astronauts used both instrumentation, and pad and paper, to verify their orbital maneuver. Mackenzie would have to pilot the shuttle once the main engine was engaged again, to make sure the shuttle was in the proper position to enter orbit. 

“Beginning orbital approach,” Mac said as she took the yoke. She pushed the throttle slightly forward, and slowly tilted the shuttle slightly to the left. “My bad Riley,” she said over the radio, “I forgot to check with my navigator.” She shot a coy smile over at Stan. “Tell me good sir,” she beamed with her sarcastic question, “was it left or right?” She pulled back on the yoke some, causing the shuttle to veer off to the left, lining up with the trajectory they would need to orbit on target with the satellite. 

“I think it’s to the right,” Stan replied, “of course, I could be thinking about the ISS.” Riley laughed. “Just shoot for the moon,” he offered, “like in spades.” Stan verified their trajectory, along with the satellite’s location. “I have confirmation we are on target,” Cpt. Watson reported. Stan shot Mackenzie a smile and shrugged his shoulders. “Guess it’s to the left,” he added.

Mackenzie finished her maneuver, entering an orbit nearly parallel with the satellite, but somewhat faster and elliptical by comparison. It would cause the shuttle to approach the satellite, slow and remain in proximity for about an hour, and then resume moving away relative to the satellite. “Showing us at seven minutes to intercept,” she reported over the radio. After confirming the course and trajectory, she engaged the autopilot again. Riley was surprised. Although not outside protocol, most pilots preferred manual control after main engine cutoff, especially Mac. “Everything okay up there major?” he asked. Mackenzie sighed and unbuckled herself. “Yeah all good,” she replied, “just need to use the loo.” Riley was shocked somewhat. Mac had never needed to before, and his flight info showed she hadn’t skipped anything medical. “Should we abort?” he questioned, somewhat concerned about a potentially ill astronaut getting worse on a space flight. “No, we’re good,” Mackenzie told him, “just my copilot is full of shit.” Stan looked visibly hurt, and winced at the comment. “Thought for a moment I’d collected some,” she added, “but nevermind, I think I’m good.” She got back into her seat, and returned the control to the stick. Riley was beyond amused, but not Stan. “Hey if that’s true,” he retorted, “why am I the one repairing this high-tech equipment?” Mackenzie shrugged and refastened her straps.

One thing was certain, the amazing view. Our planet was a blue ball covered in familiar lands. The glow of the upper edges of the atmosphere made a strange, hazy, but beautiful sort of corona. Clouds whirled slowly over the surface of Earth, in some places visibly moving, others seemingly frozen in time. What looked like a billowing hurricane loomed towards Florida, its spirals inching towards land. “Hope that storm isn’t going to cause any issues for mission control,” Stan said, a bit of concern in his voice. Riley and the team had of course verified the weather, as best as one could, and besides, the facility was also a weather station. “No worries Stan,” Riley said back to him, “it’s going to at most rain a little.” Stan watched the spiral arms continue to move westward. “Trust me,” Riley went on, “you’ll see those clouds start to jump north in a minute and dissipate.”

Paradigm was nearing the satellite, which could be easily seen in detail as they approached. “Approaching target,” Mac reported, cutting throttle and taking the yoke. “Roger Paradigm,” Riley responded, “you good to go Stan?” Cpt. Watson unbuckled himself, and slowly drifted out of his seat towards the rear of the shuttle. “En route to Magic Mountain,” he said over the radio. After collecting a toolbox, and making sure the replacement component was inside, he went to the airlock and entered it. “Let’s fix us some made in China,” Stan added with a country style accent, as the shuttle finished its approach. 

Mackenzie verified their orbit once the shuttle was in the hot zone, the part of the orbit where relative to the shuttle they would appear to be not moving. “Bubble time,” she said over the radio, leaning over her seat and unbuckling the straps. She pushed off the harness and drifted rather quickly as she approached the open airlock. “Coming in hot,” she announced. Stan moved himself to the side as Mac flew into the airlock. She twisted herself to grab the airlock door and pulled it closed, tugging on it to slow her down. She locked out the shuttle, then keyed in the code for the outer door. As it opened, she keyed in another code. The display above the keypad began flashing BAY POD in green. Once the airlock was open, she pushed off and exited, leaping into space.

“We’ll be late for the ball, my dear Watson,” Mackenzie said as she grabbed hold of a bar on the outside of the shuttle. With a small grunt, she shoved herself towards the pod, slowly rising from the shuttle’s cargo hold. The doors clicked fully open, the pod still rising slightly. Stan moaned in response to her Holmes impersonation as he climbed out and secured the airlock. “I hate when you do that,” he said. 

Mackenzie reached the pod just as it finished moving, and climbed inside. She immediately buckled in and began powering up all systems. Brian’s voice came over the radio while the pod slowly came to life, different buttons in various places lighting up. “Now remember Mac,” he told her, “you shouldn’t need to get the extra hydraulics involved.” She continued to engage the pod’s mechanical arms, looking up at the alarm. It remained unlit when she moved the arm towards the outer panel on the satellite. Stan had reached the satellite, and was busy tethering the toolbox and himself to the side of it. He moved himself towards the back side, grabbing on to an outcropping. “And Chicago style,” Brian added. Mackenzie smiled and proceeded to position the arm to remove the panel. The pod’s hydraulics showed no sign of trouble.

Riley’s voice came over the radio suddenly, some concern in it. “Guys, we’ve got an unexpected solar flare at high trajectory.” Mission control showed the flare’s radiation to be extremely unusual. They were predicting it might move almost half as fast as the visible effect. “MCO showing you have less than eleven minutes before contact,” Riley continued. Mackenzie sighed as she removed the first of five interlocks. It took about two minutes to remove an interlock, meaning they would likely face the radiation before the panel was completely removed. “I’ll wait after the first three,” she told Riley, “once the solar wind passes I can finish removing the panel.” 

Solar radiation could cause problems with equipment, and solar winds were known to shift the position of various objects in orbit. It would be too dangerous to do anything but wait for the blast from the flare to pass. “Roger that Mac,” Riley said. Mackenzie rushed slightly with the third interlock, trying to make sure she wouldn’t be caught finishing up when the flare caught up with them.

“Locking arm into position,” she said, pressing a button above her head labeled LOCK. She disengaged the pod’s hydraulics while the two waited for the radiation to pass. Stan would be fine in his suit, no less protected than Mackenzie in the pod. A malfunction could indicate disaster however, and any systems online would be prone to radiation. Moving equipment with a solar wind passing was something to be avoided. 

The sun shone brightly even through the protection offered by the shield on their helmets. Stan noticed what appeared to be a different color glow, not yellow or red, but somewhat green and blue, appearing to come from a horizon line formed by the satellite. The planet’s own horizon line, the edge of the atmosphere, was just below the edge of the shuttle from Stan’s perspective. Though mostly white and blue, this line shouldn’t have affected the light Stan was seeing in this way. Just after he noticed it, the solar wind began to pass through. Aside from feeling a nudge, he didn’t notice anything unusual or amiss. Mackenzie in her pod felt absolutely nothing as the radiation hit, but what she saw through her shield was far more than something easily dismissed as an optical illusion, at least not without explanation as to why the illusion.

“Mission control,” she questioned, “exactly what types of radiation are we dealing with here?” Riley seemed a little confused by the question. “Not sure I follow Mac,” he replied, “nothing out of the ordinary, just your typical solar flare.” He began to wonder if something was happening he should be aware of. “Why?” he asked. 

Mackenzie wasn’t sure exactly what she was seeing. It appeared very much to be an aurora, with streaks of virtually every rainbow color, pasted across the sky. The problem was, there was no sky, only empty space. What she was seeing not only shouldn’t be there, it really couldn’t. The glowing and pulsing lights were beyond unsettling, nothing like any solar flare she’d seen before. “Daytona, did outer space suddenly get an atmosphere?” she asked. Mac described what she was seeing, less brilliantly, but only by a slight margin, a replica of a common sighting in the northern states. The aurora borealis, or something very much like it, complete with a few added stars, or so it seemed.

Without any warning, the master alarm in the pod went off. “Ask Brian if it counts via radiation induced malfunction Riley,” Mackenzie said over the radio. She pressed the glowing red button, causing it to turn white for a moment before the alarm went silent. The button remained illuminated, turning yellow and flashing. “That’s a negative Mac,” Brian said, “I’ve got the same alarm down here.” A crinkled frown spread across his face. For some reason, the radiation appeared to be interacting with various systems it shouldn’t be able to reach. With the hydraulics locked down, all electronics online would be shielded only. The two astronauts would fry from microwaves long before anything in the pod would be affected, and that would take a mass coronal ejection the likes of which no one had ever seen. Everyone was beginning to worry a little about Cpt. Watson being outside. 

“I’m a bit concerned about this ‘aurora’ you’re seeing,” Riley interrupted, “that shouldn’t be possible.” The instrumentation at mission control showed normal radiation readings, nothing out of the ordinary. Plus, nobody on earth saw it, over the cameras or otherwise. “Aside from the alarm showing a failure in the main control board,” he went on, “everything seems in the green.” Riley was a little worried about the alarm too, since the main control board shouldn’t be affected by the solar wind.

A shearing force of some kind suddenly ripped through the area, something else completely unexplainable. There was no atmosphere in space, nor any other medium for the vibration to pass through. Mackenzie started checking equipment, pressing buttons frantically as whatever was happening wreaked havoc on the pod. Stan seemed okay, but it looked like something was pulling on him a bit from time to time. “Temperature and air conditions read normal,” he reported. It was almost like he was a flag blowing in the breeze. “This can’t be happening,” she thought. 

Riley shook his head, seeing no readings beyond the normal expectations, save the sudden unexplainable strain on the pod. It all made no sense. He looked up at the monitors, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, except for Stan’s flapping around as he held on to the satellite. “Stan,” he asked, “what’s causing the movement?”

Stan had even less explanation than mission control. “I’m not sure,” he replied, “but it isn’t hard to hold on or anything.” He attempted to describe the sensation. “It’s like something is pulling on me,” he said. Riley frowned, seeing no option but to seriously consider an abort. “Any further developments, I want you en route to the shuttle.” Stan wasn’t happy about it, but didn’t want to die fixing a satellite his country only rented. “Roger that mission control,” he responded. 

With zero warning, the pod was somehow pulled free of the shuttle’s cargo mounting, making a large ripping sound as it tore free. It immediately went into a spin, the large arm on the right side headed straight for the satellite. Mackenzie gasped, and immediately engaged the pod’s thrusters, hoping to stabilize it. The arm continued to spin in Stan’s direction. She cried out at him, and he saw the arm himself, but the whole thing happened too fast. Before Mackenzie could even reach full thrust, or Stan could move out of the way, the arm skewered him, flat against the edge of the satellite. The mechanical power drill, designed to remove bolts and made of a titanium alloy, punctured his suit right below his heart, killing him almost instantly.

“Stan!” Mac screamed. The drill made a popping sound when it impaled him, and the suit immediately lost all pressure. It sounded something like a silencer being shot through a pillow. Blood squirted out from around the puncture point on impact. The sight made Mackenzie want to vomit. 

Riley’s voice came over the radio immediately. “Mac,” he cried out, “what happened?” Stan’s camera showed a bobbing image of the pod, the arm aiming at a spot just below it. Vitals were completely out, and mission control desperately searched for answers, for the moment finding none. Neither telemetry readings nor visuals provided any clues, other than Stan was gone. The pod continued to spin after the arm ripped free of the satellite, taking part of Stan with it, the other arm now swinging back towards the shuttle. The thrust that Mackenzie applied was having the opposite effect. Instead of stabilizing the pod, it was taking it on a collision course with the shuttle. She desperately cut most of the power, hoping to use the two maneuvering thrusters to back away. The arm headed directly for a spot just in front of the cargo bay doors. “Watch out!” Riley warned her, but it was too late.

The pod careened directly into the shuttle, the left arm ripping off the cargo door as the pod slammed into it. Stan’s body was torn partly free of the right arm as the pod hit. There was no sound this time, as the air from his suit was gone. His left arm was still hanging on to the arm of the pod, which seemed extremely odd. Mackenzie watched the silent movie of Stan being pulled on like some bloody rag doll out of the corner of her eye, the instant before impact. 

The force shook Mackenzie in the pod, and she released the maneuvering thrusters to avoid any more damage. Her eyes looked wildly out through the pod’s small window, trying to get both an idea of what was around, and what was happening. There was no explanation for how Stan could have been holding on to the satellite while the pod crashed into the shuttle. What she saw when she looked was only his body, no longer clutching to the bar. Instead, it was ripped into three pieces, most of his body loosely hanging over the mechanical arm of the pod, or what remained of it. His head, and most of his suit, was still attached to the satellite, the tether slowly moving in some strange random sway. The missing part was his hand, which Mackenzie couldn’t see how it had been cut off. She jumped as the hand appeared out of nowhere. It bounced off the window of the pod, causing her to nearly reengage the thrusters.

Mission control was a complete scramble, technicians and engineers scrambling to determine what had happened. Several elements made no sense whatsoever, starting with the aurora that Mac had reported. Space contained no atmosphere and the solar flare showed no signs of being out of the ordinary. The pod being thrown around, and suddenly skewering Cpt. Watson, also made no sense. Instruments registered nothing amiss, and the shear forces were caused by something completely unknown. 

“What’s going on up there, Mac?” Riley asked, hoping to get the situation under control. Nothing had ever gone seriously wrong before, although everyone was trained and prepared for it. Most of the team had at most a little brush with disaster from previous assignments, and a little panic was threatening to set in. “Everyone get whatever readings you have to my station,” he continued. The colonel wanted to bring an abrupt end to any urge to panic quickly, by getting them all involved in their jobs. As members reported in, he gave them very specific instructions. Soon, the busy bustle was actually a bit busier, but much more efficient. Mackenzie on the other hand, was still struggling to remain not only calm, but get answers.

She looked frantically out the tiny window, trying to get a feel for the damage. A twisted piece of the cargo bay door was still partly attached, while the rest drifted out into space. The pod’s one mechanical arm was lodged in a spot just behind the cockpit, likely the oxygen or fuel (or both) had been depleted. She quickly ejected what was left of the arms, wondering where she stood on supplies. Mackenzie didn’t have to wait long for the details on fuel and oxygen. 

“I’m no longer stuck on the shuttle,” she reported over the radio. “Looks like the pod’s not damaged except for whatever caused the master alarm.” Mackenzie gave the instruments a once over. “My O₂ is good, but I bet the shuttle is leaking,” she added, “if not air then something.” 

“We have a leak on both fuel and O₂ Mac,” Riley said. The shuttle was basically a salvage situation. There was no way for anyone to take her back into the atmosphere without repair. The altered wind profile would cause the shuttle to burn up on entry, if not explode. “With the damage,” he continued, “you’re gonna have to use the pod to get back.”

Mackenzie grunted as she pushed on the lever at her far right. The manual release arm moved only the tiniest bit, no matter how hard she pushed on it. “Well, we have two problems with that Daytona,” she said with tears beginning to drip down her face. Cpt. Watson was a friend. Probably also the most qualified upstairs besides Mackenzie. She would have time to cry later though, now it was time to not die up here as well. 

“First off,” she went on, “I can’t get the manual release for the pod to work.” She tried a couple more times, pushing on the lever in short, quick bursts. “I’m not gonna make reentry if I don’t get this mount off.” The hydraulics that controlled the arms worked through the mounting system for the shuttle’s cargo pod. The same force that had pulled the mount free from the shuttle, had also somehow wedged the latch around itself, freezing it in place. It looked almost as if someone with enormous strength had squeezed it, so that the only option would be to cut it. Mackenzie was having that very thought. “I’m gonna have to go outside,” she added.

Riley wasn’t happy with the situation, but Mac was right. Without releasing the mounting, the pod would catch too much air on entry. It would be impossible to maintain the proper trajectory with the pod’s limited thrusters, not to mention catching fire. Even if Mackenzie could somehow get lucky and hold course, the mounting would likely rip off the bottom part of the pod. While she was buckled in nice and tight, the commander wouldn’t be as protected from the heat if a section of the pod’s hull were missing. She would likely become a barbecued treat for the fishes below at best, unless she got the mounting loose.

“Roger that Mackenzie,” Riley replied with a sigh. “You be careful out there,” he added. The situation hadn’t gone well for Stan, and nobody had any answers. What caused what had already gone wrong? The situation was riddled with what should be impossibilities, or so it seemed. “We still don’t have any idea how the pod got pulled off yet,” Riley told Mackenzie over the radio. 

Telemetry readings indicated some sort of shear force had passed through the area. Shortly afterwards, weaker forces, along with excessive electromagnetic forces, had been detected by both the pod and the shuttle’s instruments. Some of the energy shouldn’t have been possible in space, and there wasn’t a lot of data regarding the source. Even worse, mission control was having difficulty figuring out what types of energy, beyond those expected, were involved in the wave that passed.

Mackenzie finished locking the solar filter on her helmet as the decompression cycle completed. She pulled on the airlock hatch release, and the pod’s door, normally accessible only via the shuttle airlock, opened into space. Mac pushed herself out, careful to not pick up too much speed as she left the pod. 

“Well let’s see what we have,” she said as she rounded the pod slowly, looking for the release section that was stuck on the mounting. It didn’t take long to find. “Damn,” she added, “I’m gonna have to cut this free.” 

The interlock was completely fused, and Mackenzie got to work quickly. Her suit had several implements, as did Stan’s, such as a plasma cutter of sorts. The two kinds of metal were completely different, but she still needed to be careful. Metal bonded almost instantly in space. She needed to separate more than cut, because cutting of either the pod latch or mounting would be futile. It would take some time, and there were oxygen limits to consider.

She looked up briefly, just before she got started. The “sky” of brilliant colors still existed, though it had faded somewhat. “You really don’t see this?” she asked of mission control. Riley indeed had a slew of strange instrument readings to pore over, but didn’t see the aurora that Mackenzie saw. It worried him, what was really going on up there, mostly because he had no idea more than any sense of it being out of control. “Negative Mac, we have a lot of odd radiation readings though,” he replied. Mackenzie rolled her eyes and sighed. “Of course we do,” she told him, “is there anything I should worry about?” She wasn’t surprised, given the pretty lights above her. “Everything looks within safety limits at the moment,” Riley told her, “but do hurry with that mounting.” Riley didn’t want her out there any longer than absolutely necessary, especially with the colors he couldn’t see over her head. 

Mackenzie checked her tether, and then began to apply the stream of electric heat to the problem. Fortunately, the sun was facing the mounting somewhat. Conditions in the sun were already extremely hot, but within seconds anything entering the shade would be quite the opposite. Thankfully, Mac was looking more for the electromotive force than actual cutting, hoping to pull apart and weaken the mounting. If she couldn’t pull it free from outside completely, the emergency release inside would have to be used. There was no time to waste, because the unknown still loomed overhead. After a short time, the heat of the mounting started to glow slightly, and she pulled on it while still moving her arm back and forth. The cutter on her wrist slowly weakened the metal enough where it started to move.

She tugged at the mounting, grunting as she jerked on it. It moved quite easily, but not enough to remove it. “It’s loose mission control,” she reported. Mackenzie gave it a few more attempts. “Not loose enough though,” she added, “I’m going to go back inside, see if I can get the manual release to work.” 

Riley didn’t like the idea of Mackenzie having to go outside, then back in, and possibly back outside again. “Roger that Mac,” he replied, “but if it doesn’t work, I want you to make sure before you go back in again.” One of the technicians had run to his side with some paperwork on a clipboard, anxious to speak. “Don’t go back in that pod until you’re sure the manual release is going to get rid of the mounting,” he added. 

The colonel looked at the technician and nodded, taking the clipboard from him. “Go,” he said to him, looking through the data. The information didn’t look good. What the technician said was even worse.

“It’s something to do with the interference in the optical processor,” the technician said, “and it’s getting stronger.” The data showed plainly that the solar flare was triggered somehow by a fault in the processor, and that fault had made it much worse. The strangeness of space had always shown unexpected and difficult differences. NASA had always met the challenge, and the unique and unforeseen problem was always expected, rather than a surprise. Often a problem was small, but there was always something one didn’t see coming. Many times, a need for the impossible, or a brush with the impossible, was the result. This however would be something to top all icings on every cake in the world. The energy of the sun had combined with a design flaw in the optical processor to create something else.

Normally, the design flaw would pose no problem, including no impact to normal operation. Unfortunately, nobody had truly understood how this particular solar flare would interact with it, and how that might affect the processor itself. Soon, Mackenzie would face dangerous levels of radiation, and eventually intense hallucinations. The aurora above her head was only the beginning. Things were within safety tolerances at the moment, but they wouldn’t stay that way for long. 

Riley frowned at the data. “How long does she have?” he asked the technician. “It’s hard to say,” came the reply. There was no way to really understand how long before things became a problem physically. They could only monitor the progress and guess at it. “I imagine no more than an hour,” the technician added. Riley relayed the bad news to Mackenzie.

“Well, I’m back inside to give this another try then,” she said as she gently pulled herself back into the pod. She braced herself against the walls of the pod, her legs at an angle, and grabbed at the lever. She pulled back as she pushed against the pod with her boots, straining to get the release to work. It moved farther this time, but not by much. Mackenzie relaxed for a moment, then gave another tug with all she had. The release would have made a grinding noise if not for the vacuum of space. Mac had no idea the release was scraping against the mounting bracket, or by how much, given she was all alone. “It’s not quite free,” she reported back to mission control. 

Mackenzie was going to have to go back outside again, but both time and oxygen were running out. “The analysts say you’re on a clock,” Riley told her. He explained the situation, stressing there was no way to know for certain how long she had. Getting that mounting free and back in the pod was a priority. “We don’t even know if you’ll be safe indefinitely in the pod,” Riley added, “it’s imperative you start reentry ASAP.”

“It should have come free already,” Mackenzie reported, “but in any case, I don’t have a lot of say in the matter.” She pulled herself back out of the pod, and around to the stuck latch. “Would be nice if I could just cut this,” she added. Strain and the events had already begun to stress Mackenzie somewhat. Riley noted her vitals were a little high back at mission control. “Just get it free and back in the pod ready for reentry,” he replied, “soon as you can.” Her blood pressure was somewhat elevated, as was her heart rate. Oxygen saturation remained relatively normal, along with breathing rate. Unfortunately, she was still using more oxygen than Riley would like. “Don’t stress about what you can and can’t do Mac,” Riley told her. 

The colonel relayed the information regarding Mackenzie’s vitals. She knew he was right, but she wanted to get this done quickly. “I think the priority is just getting this done,” she radioed to mission control. The technician had returned with his clipboard back on Earth, Riley hoping the additional bad news wasn’t something extreme. “The radiation is building at a fairly steady rate at this point,” he said to Riley. Mackenzie was apparently already focused efficiently. She needed to get down from up there.

Mackenzie had finished with a second attempt at the mounting bracket, and this time had pulled it almost completely free by hand. “It’s only a little stuck on the latch Daytona,” she reported. “The manual release is sure to work this time.” She pushed away again from the pod, pulling on her tether to get her back into position to return inside. This time, however, as she began to move back into the pod, a sudden hallucination affronted her. A glowing flash of Stan’s body appeared. She wasn’t quite sure if it was a flash exactly, or more it was just suddenly there, and for a moment it looked like Stan was beckoning to her. Mackenzie’s mind became caught up in the hallucination. She struggled to hear what Stan was saying, not noticing how close her suit was coming to a jagged piece of the mounting. 

There was a slight tug as Mackenzie’s suit caught the edge of the mounting, near the latch she just pulled nearly free. It slowed her only the tiniest bit before yanking her to a complete stop a second later. Mackenzie reached for Stan’s lifeless looking, gaunt face. “Stan,” she cried out, “I can’t hear you!” The suit began to rip as she reached for his face, the internal sensors registering an alarm back at mission control.

“Commander Miller!” Riley shouted over the radio, “your suit is caught on something!” The warning came just in time, as Mackenzie looked back to see the mounting pulling on the outer layer. It wasn’t soon enough to prevent air venting from a tiny hole. Maintaining pressure in the suit would soon be compromised. She stopped herself, slowly pulling the suit free of the mounting. Looking back, Stan had gone. “What were you on about Mac?” Riley demanded to know. He was seriously concerned about the hallucinations being a problem. An astronaut by herself without a firm grip on reality had little chance of surviving reentry without the space shuttle. “One minute you were about to check the release,” he said, “then all of a sudden you’re seeing dead people.”

Riley didn’t want to seem callous, and regretted the commentary, but needed to keep his astronaut focused. “I’m all right,” Mackenzie said, “but I swear I could have seen Stan reaching out to me from the pod’s airlock.” She carefully braced herself against the edge, and grabbed hold of the release lever. Riley adjusted his headpiece back at mission control. “Mac we show a suit tear,” he told her. She grunted and pulled as hard as she could. “Yeah,” she said as the mounting release slowly shoved the pod free. “I got myself on the edge I think.” Mackenzie quickly reached up and pulled the pod door closed. “Good thing I got it free enough for the release to work,” she added. The hallucinations were fortunately not impairing her abilities, but had definitely caused problems. 

“If it’s out of control or seems unusual, I want you to ignore it or at least not worry about it,” Riley told Mackenzie over the radio. “We need to get you nav oriented down here,” he continued, “and back on the surface.” The team had been working on reentry for the pod’s position once Mac went outside the first time. The pod wasn’t in quite the same position and orbit, and a few adjustments needed to be made. Mackenzie started the pressurization process immediately. Her suit showed only five minutes of air left. The pod having a breathable environment that wouldn’t cause her to pop once she removed her helmet would take four minutes. “The only thing I’m worried about at the moment is how close I’m cutting it on the air situation,” she replied.

She got herself buckled into the harness, latching the four-way belts into place. After the first click, another bright flash of Stan appeared before Mackenzie, blocking out everything except him. His face appeared gaunt, almost white, with dark circles around both eyes and mouth. It was if he had frozen in space without the pop, a likely fate for an astronaut whose suit was punctured. Except blood trailed from his mouth, and spattered Mac’s face as he spoke, unintelligibly like before. She struggled to hear what Stan was trying to say, suddenly ignoring the belts, and Riley’s earlier warning. 

“Mac!” Riley shouted at her. Cameras in the pod let him know that something was amiss, as Mackenzie had suddenly stopped in the middle of what she was doing. She shook her head roughly, then grabbed at the belts again and fastened the last two. After a long exhale, she began powering up the pod. She checked the compression cycle. There were two minutes left, and her air level showed 143 seconds and counting. It was going to be close. She was hallucinating again, and it was likely she’d lost time distracted by the image of Stan. 

“Daytona,” Mackenzie asked, “do we have a trajectory for reentry?” The pod had limited fuel and maneuverability, so about all Mackenzie could do would be to aim and hope. A small amount of change in trajectory was possible, depending on how much it took to get into position for reentry. “I’m thinking at best I can pull up or push down some,” she added, “once I’m on track.” It was unlikely the pod could handle a standard reentry procedure, much less have the fuel for it. Getting back was possible, but tricky and difficult at best.

The flight technicians back at mission control had adjusted the plan based on Mackenzie’s new position. The pod hadn’t moved much, so changes hadn’t taken long. “We have a flight trajectory Mac,” Riley told her, “pretty much the same as what you described.” He relayed the information to her. She would need to take the pod down towards Earth at a steep angle, then pull up as she entered the atmosphere. There wouldn’t be a second chance, and many of the technicians had expressed a concern that she might easily burn up in the atmosphere. The pod’s thrusters weren’t very powerful, so pulling up too much wasn’t expected. Commander Miller might not miss, but a burn up was a very serious possibility. The maneuvers would have to be perfect. 

Mackenzie pulled up her helmet’s visor just as the air started to get stale. She inserted the umbilical into the pod’s O₂ outlet, knowing the air in her suit wouldn’t cut it, although she dared not remove the helmet. Mac would need, or at least really want, the visor down during most of the reentry procedure. It would get incredibly hot in the pod, not to mention the buffer the suit would provide against pressure changes as she dropped to earth. Until the air from the umbilical balanced her oxygen levels, it would be hard to breathe with the visor down.

“Settling in for the ride Daytona,” she said over the radio. The reentry procedure would require an angle adjustment, since the pod registered everything directly up starting at zero. “Inputting horizon line for 222° and beginning descent.” Mackenzie pushed the pod’s throttle to full as she pushed down on the yoke, until the horizon line matched the center of her display. She checked her fuel, noting it would be enough for the maneuver, but just barely. “I’m on target waiting to adjust heading,” she added. 

Suddenly there was a flash of light outside the pod, along with the master alarm going off again. The pod seemed to stay on course however, with Mackenzie only needing to make a slight adjustment. Whether or not she would have fuel for the entire maneuver at this point was another matter. “We’re showing a lot of electromagnetic activity Mac,” Riley said over the radio. His voice cut out into static, as several more bright flashes bathed the pod in white and blue. Mackenzie pressed the alarm to silence it, then looked outside the pod.

Above her head, the aurora still shone across space. It was more detailed now somehow and seemed to be made up of mostly tiny particles, some the size of marbles, all different colors. Most of them were pink or blue, but all of them appeared to be heading towards both her and the atmosphere. It was a cloud of beads, how thick she couldn’t be sure, but clearly several hundred miles across. Mac doubted whatever it was would affect the atmosphere, probably burning up in the process, but she couldn’t be sure about her and the pod. The thickest part of the cloud she imagined might tear through the pod like it was made of cottage cheese, each bead becoming a deadly projectile, especially the bigger ones. There was little she could do about it. She verified her fuel was ample, and prepared to pull up at the precise time to get the angle right for reentry. The tiny beads that had reached her pelted against the pod. They made a thudding sound, and a few sparks at one point spewed out of a panel that popped open. The aurora was beautiful, but deadly. 

“Daytona come in,” she pleaded over the radio, “I’m on approach but I have incoming.” The radio had only static. Mackenzie desperately checked all the other channels, but nothing. “If you can hear me, I think this aurora is causing interference,” she said after switching to the primary communications frequency. She proceeded to explain the situation, hoping she got through. “I don’t understand why you can’t see it, though,” she continued.

Strangely, there was sound inside the pod, a rumbling as the approach neared the point where she would pull up. She could hear it through her suit, and it made no sense what could be causing it. Sound waves didn’t propagate through space, because there was no air for the vibrations to travel through. Whatever it was, had to be coming from the pod itself, or inside the pod. 

“Riley, anyone, does anyone copy?” Mac kept trying to reach mission control. “There’s some kind of noise in the pod,” she reported. It was time to pull up. “I can’t figure out what it is,” she said, looking around and outside the pod’s small window. “I’m beginning my reentry adjustment now,” Mackenzie said as she grabbed the yoke. 

The pod began to shake as Mackenzie adjusted the heading by pulling back, which was normal but still unsettling. The rumbling sound became even louder, and almost seemed to be coming from outside the pod. She struggled slightly with the yoke as she looked around and outside. The sounds she heard were anything but normal, and really shouldn’t even be possible, not to mention Mac had no clue what caused them.

The computer aboard the pod was programmed to engage thrusters in the absence of atmosphere, and the flaps should have had little effect until they were much lower in altitude. Mackenzie struggled against the yoke, checking her pitch angle. For some reason, the angle was still too steep. It was as if something was either pushing against the pod, or she was lower than she thought. Since the pod wasn’t a fireball, and she wasn’t burning up inside it, it was like the flaps were the only thing reducing her angle with little atmospheric drag. 

“Damnit,” she cried out, “Daytona, I’m not getting enough out of the thrusters.” Readings showed she was still at too steep an angle, as the pod’s outer shell began to heat up. Things were spinning out of control fast. The alarm sounded for yet another time, as both flaps sheared off from the heat, entirely too early. 

Interference from the atmosphere would cause an expected communications cutoff in moments anyway, were she able to get through. Mackenzie didn’t know if Daytona could hear her, but in fact they could, and were desperately trying to relay information. “Someone figure out for me why she can’t hear us,” Riley demanded of the team. Nobody had any answers. From mission control’s perspective, Mackenzie’s communications equipment was working perfectly. She should be able to hear them, but all she got on her end was static.

Mission control also saw Mackenzie’s trajectory as being way off. If she kept up at her current angle much longer, the heat would ignite the pod itself, and within a few minutes the commander inside. She needed to find a way to reduce her angle. The pod’s thrusters were almost completely out of fuel, and the flaps were already gone. She scrambled quickly, looking around, trying to think about what could be done in this impossible situation. 

Then she remembered the situation regarding her suit. Although risky, she was already entering the atmosphere. She worked quickly, routing the remaining air, and the direct oxygen tanks, into the pod’s release port. There would be only one shot at this, and it would all depend on both cutoff and timing. Too much thrust, and the pod would skip off the atmosphere, much like a stone on a pond. Except with each bounce, the pod would heat up, and slowly lose orbital height. After a few such skips, not only would Mackenzie be out of air, she would be barbecued Mackenzie. Too little exhaust time would also result in a roasted astronaut, the pod maybe as well. She made the calculations as quickly, and as accurately, as possible. Running out of air between the suit leak and the release port venting might still be a problem, but it was a risk she had to take.

“I’m going to try venting my remaining air,” she reported. The atmosphere hopefully wouldn’t be not be too thin, and the air pressure not drop too much for her to breathe. Rapid decompression was also a worry, but not likely since she was already about to burn up. At least, that was how Mackenzie saw it. “Venting now,” she said, then flipped the switch to open the release ports. After a brief exhale, she pressed the button to release her remaining oxygen and air. 

The pod shuddered violently, as the air in the cabin was suddenly pulled out through the vacuum. The angle of descent was lowering quickly, but Mackenzie wondered if it would be quick enough. The heat in the pod was beginning to be unbearable. Even if she could get the angle correct before burnup, there would still be a question of whether or not she would get too hot in the pod. Her suit might not offer enough protection, what with the gaping hole. It started small, but all the moving around and struggle with the yoke had caused it to rip more. Air pressure would be a serious concern, while the oxygen in the pod also quickly waned.

“Daytona,” Mackenzie cried out, “it’s getting hot in here.” The master alarm went off yet again, and this time she completely ignored it. “And I don’t mean the song by Nelly,” she added, sweat dripping on her forehead. Temperature readings showed the inside of the pod was about 109° F and climbing. It was getting too hot, too fast. The pink haired troll seemed to be smiling deviously at her, like some freakish thing from hell. She wondered why it seemed so unaffected by the heat. She expected its features to have at least somewhat drooped, the paint becoming a faded watercolor, washed out by melting. It only smiled at her. The troll seemed to not care one bit about the intense temperature. 

The gleaming little black eyes winked at her, causing Mac to jump and let go of both the yoke and the release button. Heat inside the pod was 112° F, and now the angle was basically set. She thought she would cook in the pod, while the pink haired creature glared at her with a sinister, toothy smile. 

“Little MackENNNSIE! Little MackENNNNNSIEEEE!”

She hadn’t heard the shouting of those little boys outside that shed in ages. “What is going on here?!” she demanded of the troll. It kept glaring at her, as the temperature in the pod finally started to give way. The angle had been a little too steep most of the way, but somehow, she’d survived. The troll continued to taunt her though, the voice of the other boys somehow joining in the cacophony.

“Little MackENNNSIE! Come out and play little Mackennnnsie!”

Consciousness started to evade her, so she needed to move fast. Her oxygen was running out. “Got to set up a chute timer before I pass out,” she said to the troll, “or your crazy commentary from my past’ll be the last thing I hear.” She began to remember that day long ago, as she entered her best and safest guess into the console. 

The chute would now open, give or take, at the correct time, so little Mackenzie would not make too much of a splash on touchdown. Too soon wouldn’t be so great either. Not only could it mean drifting to a bad spot, her oxygen was basically out. Whatever was left in the pod wouldn’t last very long, and a canopy ride at high altitude already hallucinating wasn’t a fun idea. What Mackenzie didn’t know, was that the hallucinations had little to do with lack of oxygen, and more to do with the aurora, or whatever it was. Timing was the least of her worries, as she was about to find out.

“We’ve got a special game for you! Come out and see!”

The boys were outside in the field next to the old barn on her grandpa’s property. She’d gone inside to look for old things, when she heard the boys shooting a can atop a post near the center of the field. It was likely a post from some old fence, torn down long ago. It moved only slightly when one of the BBs struck it, usually the small bearing sticking and staying. Occasionally, one of the shots would dislodge a BB, and two or more would fall to the ground. Mackenzie swore she could hear the thump of each BB as it either stuck in the wood, or hit the ground. Wasn’t she in space a moment ago? The boys were jumping around the pole after a successful shot, the one who made it stood away from the group, swinging the Daisy rifle in his hand.

“Whoo whee! I got it my first time!”

Mackenzie scratched her head on top near the middle. The braids were always pulled by grandma so tight, it sometimes itched her a little bit. That seemed odd to her. Wasn’t that long ago? She scratched again, perched on a chair and peeking out at the motley crew setting the can up for another shot.

The little troll winked again, and she found herself back in the pod. Her eyes waned, and Mackenzie struggled to keep them open. “What’s happening?” she moaned, shaking her head. Again, she found herself back in the barn. The boys had decided to start playing the special game they wanted Mackenzie to join in on. 

Each boy took turns with the rifle. After taking a shot, that one chose who went next of the boys who remained. When one of them hit the can, the last one to take a shot would run to the post and reset the can. Then, he’d hand the rifle to whoever he chose out of the group still waiting for their turn. It was a little confusing to watch and see whose turn it was, but the boys did it as if it came second nature. After the first make, missing the can would mean you were out. The last boy standing would be declared the winner. 

She watched for a few minutes from the safety of the barn. Usually, the boys picked on her, being the only girl who lived for miles. There was another reason now that they moved here. Mackenzie hated living in the backwater parts of Florida, but the family situation offered little choice. Her parents were flat broke and had moved to land they originally planned on renting. Once the structures on the border of their property were torn down, they were going to rebuild. Those plans were over now. The small house and barn were now their home.

Mackenzie slowly peeked out from around the corner of the barn’s rickety wooden doors, just as the third kid to miss was up for a turn. Nobody had hit the can again yet, not since Rudy had a little while ago. “Hey, it’s the little girl from the torn-up place next door,” he said, pointing at her. She was already considered a city bum. They came here without any money, and not much in the way of supplies, or food. She walked up to the fence cautiously, certain they were going to at least tease her. 

“C’mon and play with us,” they begged her. Mackenzie eventually walked up to the fence with one foot on it, somewhat like climbing a ladder, and then swung over. She jumped to the ground as the boys walked up to her, Rudy holding the rifle out towards her. “You can be next,” he said. Previously, the boys had taunted her, especially about her situation. They were nice at first, but things took a turn as they decided to pick on the “city hobo” with her slowly turning dirty clothes. Nobody had directly been very mean yet (mostly name calling), but she’d gotten tired of the taunting, and the one shove. She decided to give it a go, certain the tide would soon change.

Mackenzie took the rifle, and the boys huddled up behind her. She raised the gun and sighted the can, waiting only a moment before squeezing the trigger. The BB zipped directly to its target, hitting the can dead center, much to the delight of the boys watching. They cheered as she handed the rifle back to Rudy, then turned and ran towards the can to reset it. The cheering seemed to have a rhythmic cadence to it, almost like some sort of alarm. Beads of sweat continued to pour down her face as she crossed the distance over the grass to the lone post. It never occurred to her that the sounds of cheering hadn’t quieted on her journey, because the boys had followed right behind her. She bent over and looked for the can. Immediately they jumped on top of her, and within mere moments she was tied to the post. 

“Let me go!” Mackenzie demanded. The boys simply laughed at her. The rope knots weren’t extremely tight, but the more she tried to wiggle free, the more the rope dug into her wrists. Her tether was about ten feet long, so it gave her plenty of room to run around. Mackenzie started running from spot to spot in the grass, trying to keep away from the group and hoping to get loose. Eventually she gave up trying to tug herself free, and instead started looking for something in the grass that was sharp to cut the rope. The boys began jeering at her, some of them grabbing the rope from time to time, and yanking her in crazy, random directions.

It wasn’t long before Rudy, the one who offered Mackenzie a turn at the “game,” started to focus the group back to their true intentions. “C’mon let’s get where we can have some fun,” he shouted. Rudy ran back to the general location where the boys were shooting at the can. They followed, eager to begin playing what the game was going to be all along. Rudy loaded the BB gun, then passed it to another boy. 

The boy aimed at Mackenzie and fired. The BB zinged past her left shoulder, barely missing it. “Aw no fair,” the boy said, handing the rifle back to Rudy. She made note of the rope’s length. Eventually they would get a lucky shot, but Mackenzie was going to make it difficult. She tried to run about, giving them a harder target to hit.

Mackenzie dodged a few BBs, causing a bit of anger amongst the boys. One threatened to hit her. “Hold still bitch!” he yelled out at her, handing the gun to another. Mission control was an equal disaster. There were no answers on the ground, or up in space. The “aurora” had entered the atmosphere, and a few of the marble sized pieces had struck the pod, putting holes in it. Mac was lucky. One almost punctured her suit, whizzing past her shoulder. It remained lodged in the auxiliary ejection system, some strange glowing marble. Had the commander seen it, she would have sworn it looked like a miniature planet Earth, the colors almost appearing to move, ever so slowly. Riley and the entire team were shouting, not so much at each other, but to be heard over the din of themselves. A BB rushed past Mackenzie’s head. The pod began to shake violently as it plummeted down. The chute release was jammed, unknown to commander Miller. It was the worst shuttle disaster in history, and no one would ever know of Mackenzie’s last mission. She tried her best anyway, luckily avoiding another two of the deadly bearings as they flew past her. She had to get away from them, somehow.

The boys laughed as they finally scored a hit in her leg. “Ow,” she winced as the BB hit her calf. The resulting welt seemed larger than would usually be expected. 

“Mackenzie!” Riley screamed, jerking her back to the pod for a moment. The static had been replaced suddenly by the colonel’s voice, screaming at her to respond. “You’re getting too low! Pull your chute Mac!” Until now, he’d been screaming uselessly. Though no real interference existed, Mackenzie couldn’t hear anything over the radio but static. The static was now gone, replaced by mission control. 

She looked around at the strange marbles scattered about the inside of the pod. Most were lodged into various equipment, including the flight controls, arm rotator systems, and had completely burst the air tanks and filtration system. A number were rolling about the floor as the pod tumbled through the air. Mackenzie pushed the button to manually release the chute several times, but nothing. She was drawn somehow to the swirling colors in each globe. 

Mission control looked on as the pod tumbled to Earth. It would land in the mountains of Colorado, far from the ocean it was intended for. Riley gaped in horror as the trajectory monitor showed Mackenzie plummeting to the ground.

The boys gathered around her as she kneeled in the grass, several welts on her legs, including one on her right cheek. Mackenzie sported a black eye from a particularly lucky shot, as the pod raced towards fate. Just before impact, Mac noticed the swirling green and brown had taken on a shape looking much like Africa. The marble zipped through the air when the pod hit, shooting directly into her eye. 

“Thanks for playing little Kensee,” Rudy taunted, taking the Daisy rifle from one of the other boys. “Shame you’re a loser,” he said. 

He aimed the rifle at her face, and smiled. She thought it odd. There was no sound as he pulled the trigger, no squeamish pop as her eye exploded. No explosion from the pod in the backwater forest where it hit. Just a finality. And just before the instant of that finality, Mackenzie herself smiled.

Part Two – Mackenzie Ann Miller USAF

Mackenzie stood in front of the simulator control board, looking up at the various control lights, switches, and buttons. Most everything had been powered down. She had worries about this mission, that seemed to go beyond the usual concerns. Several of the controls were showing an alarm during the last few runs. She tapped the master alarm, looking over at the hydraulic ready systems board, just to the left of her. “I’d still like to know why we’re getting the alarm Brian,” she frowned. Astronaut Mackenzie Ann Miller was about to go on a routine satellite inspection run, but she was known for paying attention to details, no matter how small. The troll on her keychain had one eye partially rubbed off, so it looked like a permanent wink. It seemed to agree with her somehow. “If it’s showing a fault on the simulator,” she pondered, “we might have a defective hydraulic interface.” She reached up and took her keychain out of the main yoke, slipping it off and with one motion wrapping it around her wrist. 

Mackenzie smiled and waved with her right arm up at the command window, the keychain’s little troll dangling off her arm. The pink haired little creature seemed to be winking and waving at Brian too. He groaned as he squatted back down to pick up his toolcase. “I’m telling you Mac,” he implored as he lifted it, “it’s just a programming malfunction.” Brian knew these systems better than anyone. “We don’t have exactly every system online for the simulator this time.” They’d had to scale back, partly because of an almost complete scrapping of NASA’s shuttle program. The National Administration for Space and Aeronautics wasn’t the same anymore. Mars was the current target, so these covert shuttle operations for satellites often took a back seat. It was important, but regarded much like the troll on Mackenzie’s wrist.

“We’ll be ready and green across the board in the pod,” Brian assured her. “I don’t care what it takes, you won’t have that alarm with any loss of operation,” he continued, “if you even get it in flight.” Mackenzie frowned as she walked up the stairs to the command platform, taking the steps with rigid, short steps. “Something feels off,” she told him as he closed the door, exiting the command center. Brian gave her a somewhat perplexed look, purposefully exaggerated. “Yeah Mac,” he replied, “you.” He reached and swiped his card in the pass interface next to the door. It made an electronic swooshing sound and beeped as the bolt on the door slid into place. The troll held a little marble in its hands that looked a lot like Earth. Mackenzie stared at it, thinking for a moment. “It’s probably nothing,” she admitted. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling. “You owe me a deep-dish pizza if I lose hydraulics in flight,” she added. 

“Ahhh…” Brian shook his head as he walked down the steps with her in tow. “I don’t believe that’s exactly fair,” he continued, “if NASA trusts me, I think you should offer a little more respect.” NASA’s chief engineer wasn’t terribly interested in splurging for their top astronaut’s dinner, when his job was more fixing things on mission than prep. It was part of his responsibility, however. “If I can’t get you in flight all green,” he added, “then you can hold me to a pizza.” Mackenzie smiled. It would have to do. “You’re on then,” she said. Brian looked down at the pink haired creature hanging from her arm. “But you’re buying if you get no problems with an alarm in flight,” he told her.

Mackenzie laughed as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “I’ve got to get home,” she said, “speaking of food.” She walked over to the north door that led to the locker room and showers. “See you tomorrow then?” she asked as she opened the door. Brian waved at her, badge in hand, and swiped it to unlock the door on the west side. “It’s a date,” he agreed, “someone’s eating at least.” He smiled and opened the door. “See you tomorrow,” he said, walking through. The door latched behind him as Mackenzie and her troll entered the changing and staging area at NASA. 

The hallway’s fluorescent lighting flickered quite a bit, and Mackenzie again had the feeling that something was wrong. The sterile looking hallway gave her an eerie sense of déjà vu. A bright red EXIT light hung above the door. She buzzed the intercom, requesting clearance to exit the building. She had spent most of the afternoon with the simulator, and really wanted to get home. Strangely, nobody answered. Suddenly however, the light flickered between the two colors. “Super strange,” she noted, but was grateful for the light staying green after a moment. She needed to get out of here. There was no need to worry about the silence on the intercom though, assuming the light didn’t change back while she was finishing up. She decided to skip the showers on the left, and entered the locker room on the right. The light remained green while she went to her locker, opened it, and pulled off the flight suit.

Mackenzie quickly folded her suit, placing it on the shelf at the top of her locker. A framework for the more advanced suits that NASA now used hung on a hook at the bottom of the shelf. On the inside of her door, was a mirror her friend’s daughter made for her. It had a crack from being dropped on one of Rosa’s bad days. The first mission after she’d put the mirror into her locker, there was a fire in the pod on reentry. She’d noticed the fire almost immediately, caught up looking at her reflection in the flames outside and thinking of the mirror. A lighting conduit had ruptured and started smoldering from sparks. Mackenzie put out the fire with no delay, and the incident went no further. She considered the mirror good luck from that point, and her left hand touched her lips, and then the mirror, just before she closed her locker.

Mackenzie walked out, fortunate the EXIT light still shone green. She walked to the end of the hallway, and pushed on the bar of the door, leaning against it as she opened the door and stepped out into the evening light. It was still bright outside in Daytona, but the sun had some time gone below the horizon. A strange aurora was in the sky, not impossibly unusual, but not really heard of either. She walked over to her car, one of the few still left in the parking lot. Brian had finished packing away his gear, and caught up to her, his car parked only a few spaces away. “I’ll be sure to get pepperoni and pineapple on mine,” he told her as he pressed the button on his key fob. The Prius alarm chimed as the door unlocked. “Strange sky,” he added, “you ever see an aurora before?” Mackenzie shook her head as she gazed at the colors in the sky, mostly yellow and blue. Tinges of pink could be seen along some of the blue sections. It seemed the EXIT sign was not the only strange occurrence this evening.

“I keep getting the feeling something is wrong,” Mackenzie told Brian, “and like…we’ve done this before.” Brian wasn’t so sure. “Hey don’t get all weirded out on me,” he said. She spun around and stared at him. “Yeah see,” she replied, “that’s what I mean.” Brian looked at her, confused. “You’ve said that before,” she continued. 

Brian wasn’t entirely convinced that Mackenzie was being serious. It wouldn’t be the first time she pulled his leg. “Are you messing with me?” he asked her. “I don’t really have time for games,” he added, “being you know we have a launch tomorrow.” 

“I’m dead serious,” she replied. Mackenzie proceeded to explain to him how it wasn’t the usual déjà vu. “It’s unnerving,” she finished, “‘cause it’s been happening all afternoon.” Brian didn’t know quite how to respond. Their lead astronaut was having visions or something, apparently, and as an engineer, he saw it as a problem to fix. Besides, the colonel probably wouldn’t want someone up there who was having second thoughts and bad feelings, not to mention visions. Unfortunately, Brian had no ideas how to go about fixing it.

“Well, I’ll be sure to check everything earlier tomorrow than usual,” he assured her. Bad feelings and worry almost never panned out to coming from anything other than stress. Mackenzie saw it as more than just general dread, but Brian didn’t see any specific problem a good night’s sleep wouldn’t fix. “You should get something to eat and go to bed,” he told her, “early.” Mackenzie smiled and thanked him. “Yeah,” Brian said, “I mean… I want that pizza too.” 

The night was fairly humid, so she put the top down on her pink mustang as she backed out of the lot. The engine roared as she put the car in gear, turning left on Bellevue toward the blue and white little houses on the waterfront, just off Seabreeze. Hers was right on the water’s edge, and she decided to take Nova north through the gardens, and hit Krispy Kreme. Mackenzie was definitely hungry, having skipped most meals of the day, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was soon coming. Mason would be busy, especially this time of night, but it couldn’t be helped if she was going to stop. The tires squealed only a little as she turned on Nova, taking the turn a bit more aggressively than usual.

It was a busy night, so she paid extra careful attention around her. The car’s engine nearly putted in the bottom of gear, a deep rumble through the neighborhood. After a quick in and out at Krispy Kreme, fortunately still open, she headed on towards home. The mustang screeched again as it left the parking lot, turning right and back onto Nova. After a short while, she gratefully made another right on to Mason, glad that she would be home soon, the bridge looming in the distance. 

Mackenzie sighed as she pulled into the driveway some time later, and put the top back up on her mustang. After getting out, she looked back in the direction of the facility (a good fifteen minutes away) once more before pulling out the troll at the front door. The aurora was still in the sky, along with the sense of dread in her mind. Dismissing both, she held up the pink haired troll. The panel slid open, she put in her key, and opened the door as she turned the key in the lock.

Walking in the door, she placed the troll on the key rack and closed it, the pink haired creature no longer useful. She looked out at the view, the sun beginning to set behind her, the strange aurora no longer there. Pulling out her phone and ordering not only pizza, but wings, Mac checked the fridge. There was plenty of beer, and a little milk. The feelings of dread had mostly gone, and she had almost all but forgotten them. The beer seemed much more refreshing than milk, especially with pizza, and she pulled out a bottle and popped the cap, taking a long drink. She flopped down on the couch to wait, setting her beer on one side and the phone on the right. Mac rarely used the strange footrests, instead leaning back and lying along the couch, looking out at the now nearly over sunset from the opposite side. The deck had a bluish tint in the dimming light and was quite a peaceful and serene setting.

It wasn’t long before the food arrived, and three beers plus a full large pizza and four wings later, Mac slowly dragged herself back into the hallway and flopped onto bed. Her night went uneventfully after that, except for the strangest dream. It was of a globe rushing towards her in outer space, not quite Earth, but close. She woke right before impact, and in the last few seconds she could swear she heard a voice from her past. Only this time, it sounded more sinister. Dismissing the frightening dream as too many calories, she headed back for the launch today, making a note to eat less so close to sleep. 

The voice was Rudy’s, from long ago when he and a few boys played a dangerous BB game with her. She rubbed her leg, remembering the incident, and what he’d said. 

“Shame you’re a loser,” his voice echoed before handing the rifle to a boy on his left. “Let’s try again guys, maybe this time she’ll get it right.”