Rocket Girls: The Last Planet (4 page)

“The Coast Guard sent us. They’ve never retrieved an orbiter, and they wanted to make sure they had enough horsepower to do the job—speaking of which, Petty Officer Kuwabara!”

“Sir!” One of the soldiers answered from the back.

“Get up here and take a picture of us!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Here, I’ll turn around and look back so he can get both our faces.”

“Huh?”

Petty Officer Kuwabara motioned to the other two girls. “Why don’t you get in too?”

“
Hoi!
I love pictures! Let’s go, Akane!”

“What? Me?”

“Yeah. Don’t you want to remember the moment?”

Grinning like a madwoman, Matsuri undid Akane’s harness. Akane gently set down her cardboard box and came up to the front.

“Commander, I’d like to get in the shot as well, if I could,” another of the soldiers called out. “Me too!” said another.

“Maybe I could get one with just Yukari first—”

“I want one with Matsuri!”

“I’ll take one with the girl in the Nellis uniform.”

They took pictures in various combinations as the helicopter swiftly made its way toward Sagamihara airspace. They were almost at their destination when the helicopter from the Kanagawa Police Department caught up to them.

“Someone told the Space Lab we were coming, right?” Yukari asked.

“Affirmative,” the pilot told her.

Yukari peered out the front window. “That straight line right there is the Yokohama Train Line, which means…is that it?”

“That’s the place.”

Several perfectly square buildings formed a small compound below. There was a green in the very middle and a thin rocket on a display stage off to one side.

The helicopter hovered over the green until someone from the lab came running out to direct them. Slowly, the copter began to descend, the orbiter drawing closer to its own shadow cast on the grass until the two met. The orbiter toppled on its side and the helicopter gently set down a short distance away. The sliding door flew open, and the crew jumped out to secure the landing zone.

“Time to go.” Yukari motioned to Akane.

Shrinking away from the idling rotor above her head, Akane left the chopper, led by the two astronauts. One of the helicopter crew was busily unhooking the orbiter.

A man in his mid-fifties wearing a suit and necktie came running from the main building.

It’s Miyamoto
, thought Yukari. Professor Miyamoto was head researcher in charge of the goldfish experiment—or more accurately, the vestibular adaptation experiment. She remembered him from his visits a month before to the Solomon base for a practice run. He had been running around then too. He was a likable man, with short legs, a chubby belly, and bushy eyebrows.

Miyamoto wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief and greeted them. “Hello there! Welcome, welcome! I’d arrgh—” The professor’s voice was lost in the sound of the helicopter taking off.

Yukari turned and saluted the crew. In a matter of moments, the helicopter receded into the distance and relative silence returned to the complex. Yukari turned back around to face the professor.

“Well, we’re back. We landed in Yokohama, of all places.”

“So I heard, so I heard. I certainly wasn’t expecting you to get here so soon, that’s for certain. Well, how are they? Still living?”

“They’re right here.”

Yukari pointed at the cardboard box in Akane’s hands.

Akane offered up her box, and Professor Miyamoto thrust his face inside. He was a bit nearsighted.

“Hey! They
are
still alive! Doing quite well, as a matter of fact! All right!” His head popped back out. “Well, this is really something! Thank you! Thank you so much!” One by one, he grabbed each of their hands in turn and gave them a vigorous shake. Yukari half expected him to shed a joyful tear or two. She smiled.

“Akane threw that transport container together all by herself!”

“You don’t say? Very nice, very, very nice!” Hefting the box in his left arm, Miyamoto gripped Akane’s hand and pumped it vigorously.

“Sorry—I know it doesn’t look like much.”

“Not at all, not at all. Now, quickly, to the lab!” The professor scurried off, muttering happily to himself as he left.

Akane shook her head, watching him leave.

“He seems happy,” Yukari said. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was going to start skipping any moment now.”

“No kidding,” Akane said, allowing herself a little chuckle.

Far ahead of them already, the professor turned and shouted, “What are you waiting for? Come on, come on. You have to tell me about everything!”

EVERY SCREEN IN
the control room was off. The only thing moving was the countdown clock in one corner. T
PLUS 1 DAY 2 HR 17 MIN 5 SEC
. At the rearmost terminal in the central row, chief controller Kazuya Kinoshita was on the phone.

“I see… So the goldfish were okay? …Right. Good job. …No, OECF Operations should take care of that. What about today? Sure, just keep it under control. Right. Take it easy.”

Quietly, he set down the receiver and raised his voice. “Everyone, listen up. Our astronauts are at the Space Lab. This wraps up control operations for this mission. It may not have been pretty, but we did it. Good job, everyone.”

There was no clapping. Everyone seated at the terminals stood up as one, stretched, and began collecting their papers.

Kinoshita jotted something down in his logbook and went into the guest room to report to Nasuda. “The orbiter and its crew have arrived at the Space Lab. The craft took a little damage, but the goldfish are fine. Our astronauts are giving their report to Professor Miyamoto now. The girls plan on staying at Yukari’s house tonight.”

“I see. Well then, the mission was a success.”

“A partial success, maybe.”

“Success is success. All’s well that ends well, right?”

Nasuda turned to Director Holden and spoke in English. “As you can see, our mission was a complete success. We accomplished a second test flight with a multiple-seat orbiter, broadcast video of a spacewalk, and completed our vestibular adaptation experiment using goldfish.”

“A complete success?” The director raised an eyebrow. “I seem to recall a malfunction in your test equipment, aberrant departure from orbit, lost position, and emergency splashdown. These matters don’t concern you at all?”

“I admit there were some events that we failed to predict,” Nasuda said, “yet our crew and test subjects have returned unharmed. Their actions in orbit and our response on the ground kept it together.”

“To me it seems like there was a fair bit of luck involved,” the director said with a shake of his head. “Thank you for inviting me here. It was certainly a fascinating experience, I’ll give you that. The SSA’s work is worthy of attention. After all, this is the third manned space program after the U.S. and Russia, and you’ve shown impressive results while managing to maintain a far-smaller-scale operation.”

“That we have.” Nasuda was practically beaming.

“But let me be frank. I’m afraid that, all things considered, it would be premature for your program to participate in the construction of an international space station.”

“But, Director—”

Holden raised a hand, cutting off Nasuda mid-objection. “Don’t get me wrong. We’re not trying to hold you back or make you toe the line. Our shuttle fleet is overworked. We need all the help we can get. And we know you are the only ones with the skintight space suit technology and hybrid engines.” Holden stood. “But your results are still weak. I look forward to more progress from you in the future.”

MIYAMOTO’S LABORATORY ROOM
was utter chaos.

Desks, computers, bookshelves, and storage racks were packed along the walls, surrounding a single workstation desk the size of an automobile in the very center of the room. Other than the narrow corridor on all sides of the workstation, every flat surface in the room was covered with piles of stuff.

Professor Miyamoto cleared a space on top of the desk and set down the cardboard box. Mumbling to himself, he removed the fish container. A similar device was already sitting on top of the workstation with all of its wiring and tubing exposed—a prototype, Yukari assumed.

“It does look like the QD is plugged with…poop? Yes, that’s poop all right.”

He took off the lid and began to clean the area around the QD with a paintbrush and a syringe. When he had finished, he placed the container in the prototype device and flicked on the switch. The water began to circulate.

“There, that should do it. Too bad you can’t do that up in space.”

“You’d get water all over the place.”

“No doubt. Sorry it had to break down right before reentry.”

“Actually, it was more like during our reentry. It was a little hard to do the experiment and pilot at the same time,” Yukari said.

“If the orbiter was a little larger, that might be possible.”

“I hear they’re working on an orbiter that seats three,” Matsuri said.

“You don’t say?” The professor pulled up some chairs to his own desk and sat the girls down. He was examining the cardboard box they had brought.

“You did a fine job with this. Something of a genius at makeshift repairs, are you?”

“No, nothing like that,” Akane stammered, blushing.

“It took us fifteen years to get this device to its current level,” the professor said. “No one had ever built an aquarium for space before. I went around asking everyone for help. That oxygen regulator came from an artificial lung the medical department was working on.”

Akane nodded, eyes wide.

“The filter was a tough nut to crack too. We had to consider all the possibilities, like what would happen if they laid eggs on top of it, and what kind of material to use, and whether or not to use zeolite to get rid of the ammonia. We tested everything.

“But if someone told me to repair this thing on the spot, I’m not sure what I would have done. You have some experience with animals in a laboratory setting?”

“I’m in charge of the aquarium and the terrarium in our biology class. Though I don’t really do much—just take care of them and make observations.”

“That’s plenty! I’m sure you come away with quite a lot from that.”

“I do,” Akane said, visibly pleased. “Actually, I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

“Anything.”

“What exactly were you testing with these goldfish?”

“Whether or not vestibular adaptability can be learned,” the professor said, his voice rising. He was clearly happy she had asked. “We wanted to see how quickly goldfish that had already been in space would relearn on their second flight. If there was an observable learning effect, then we might be able to find out exactly
where
the goldfish are keeping that information—that was our goal.”

“Fascinating!”

“Vestibular functions are thought to be related to space sickness. And space sickness gets in the way of spaceflight, as you know.”

“Sure. It’s like seasickness that lasts for the first few days of a flight, right?” Akane asked.

“That’s correct. Of course, there are a lot of other challenges out there waiting for an astronaut. Things like calcium deficiencies due to radiation and the redistribution of body fluids. But humanity must move into space sooner or later. You agree?”

“Of course.”

“We’re constantly fighting about this religion or that ideology or some territory or another down here. Well, my thinking is: why not just move away from all that? If the earth gets too cramped, we can settle space. It starts with the station. Next the moon. Then Mars. Some scientists have even proposed moving to comets. Imagine that, comets! That’s why we have to overcome all of the hurdles between us and these, er, ‘lofty’ goals. This experiment is one small part of that, a fragment of the answer, if you will. You agree?”

“Of course!”

“If one experiment fails, we can’t move on to the next. That’s why I needed you to bring those goldfish back alive. Here I thought all was lost, but then
you
came to the rescue.” Miyamoto beamed and clapped Akane on the shoulder. “It’s that kind of quick thinking that makes you an astronaut, I guess! Splendid, splendid!”

Akane blinked. “Er, actually, sir, I’m not—”

“She’s a civilian,” Yukari cut in. “She just happened to be there at the school where we landed.”

“What? Is that so? Why, I was sure the SSA had sent you!”

“No, actually. See, we landed at Nellis Academy—”

Yukari went on to tell the entire story of their emergency splashdown and subsequent efforts to keep the goldfish alive. Miyamoto listened attentively, scratching his head throughout.

“I see, I see! Well, I suppose I can be forgiven the misunderstanding. After all, she’s the right age, and the girl does have considerable talent.”

Apparently, he hadn’t noticed that Akane was wearing her school uniform.

The professor chuckled. “I swear, I can’t look at a short schoolgirl these days without wondering if she’s an astronaut.”

“A short schoolgirl…” Yukari glanced over at Akane. The girl was roughly the same height as she was, maybe even a little slighter in build. Perfect height, perfect weight. She wished someone like Akane had been there when everything started going haywire. Someone to watch the experiments while she and Matsuri focused on piloting. That would have made everything so much easier. Matsuri was clearly giving Akane the once-over as well.

Well, it can’t hurt to ask.

“Say, Akane. Want a job?”

“What kind of job?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Like, maybe being an astronaut for the SSA?”

Akane burst out laughing. “You’re pulling my leg!”

“Nope. No leg-pulling.”

“
Hoi!
What a great idea.” Matsuri joined in. “Boy, with Akane on the team, we’d be golden!”

“We haven’t made any public announcements, but truth be told, we really need someone. This could be your big chance, Akane. Really.”

“But, but I couldn’t be an astronaut. Don’t you have to be in great physical condition?”

“A little training would take care of that, no problem.”

“But…”

“Boy, if it was me, I’d be there in a heartbeat,” Miyamoto said. “Surely you must have your share of applicants? You’re quite popular these days.”

“Actually, we do,” Yukari said. While it was true that they had made no public announcement, every month, one or two hopefuls made their way to the Solomon Space Center—on a tiny island at the edge of civilization, a place devoid of any entertainment or anything to do at all if one wasn’t in the SSA already. Most people who wanted to be the next Yukari or Matsuri despaired the moment they set foot in the place.

There were a few whose passion to go into space overcame any such concerns, but every one of them had been physically unsuited for the job. Even though they never put it into words, the SSA wasn’t in the position to even consider anyone who wasn’t under 155 centimeters tall and weighed less than thirty-eight kilograms. Also, though it wasn’t an absolute requirement, they really preferred a girl. The lack of a toilet onboard the orbiter would make things complicated were males integrated into the crew.

Which was why the best people gave up on the SSA and instead went for the Space Development Agency back in Japan. A successful career there could get you on the space shuttle and even get you a chance for a stay on the ISS.

There were other reasons holding some applicants back. Even though the space shuttle wasn’t really all that safe, and the SSA wasn’t as dangerous as it seemed, people thought twice about actually stepping into Yukari’s shoes when it came down to it. Not even the lure of overnight fame was sufficient temptation.

“I should think all you’d need is your health. I mean, if the shoe fits wear it, right? And I think you’d fit just right, Akane.”

Akane frowned, unconvinced.

Miyamoto stared at her. “You seem more the research type than a member of a flight crew. You like biology?”

“Yes,” she replied. Then, more enthusiastically, “Ever since I was in elementary school!” Now Akane began to talk faster than Yukari had ever heard her talk. “We had to observe morning glories for a summer project in third grade, and I got to wondering why it was that some of them had vines that twisted to the right and others had vines twisting to the left. I couldn’t figure it out just by looking at the ones we had on our patio, so I ended up examining every morning glory on my block, then I went to the next block and the next until I had examined one hundred plants in all. When I averaged them out, right-twisting vines came out to fifty-three percent.”

Miyamoto laughed out loud. “So no statistically significant difference, then.”

“Well, I didn’t know about statistical analysis back then, so my conclusion was that right-twisting morning glories were more common. My teacher was really impressed, and I guess I let it go to my head. Oh, that’s right, I even did a sort of fake space experiment when I was in junior high.”

“You don’t say?”

“I couldn’t pull off a zero-gravity experiment, but I could make a high-G experiment right here on Earth. I modified an old record player into a centrifuge. Then I put a tulip bulb in some dirt at the edge and spun it around at 2 G to see what would happen.”

“Very interesting!” Miyamoto exclaimed. “They’ve raised chickens using that same method in America, and the Germans similarly observed jellyfish in space, you know. It must’ve taken quite some time for you to get any results.”

“Well, that’s the thing. I put the centrifuge out on the patio and let it spin all night and day. My mom wanted me to stop—she was afraid the record player was going to burst into flames or something—so I promised her I would keep my eye on it, and I ended up sitting there for three whole days. In the end, on the eighth day, the record player broke, so I never
did
get any results. But my science teacher was still impressed and told me that if I really wanted to become a scientist when I grew up, I would also need to study math and English and take tests so I could get into good schools. I think that’s around when I started to really like studying.”

“You mean you can grow into liking studying?” Yukari asked. “I always thought it was something you were born either liking or hating.”

“No, I really think you can learn to like it. It’s like getting this new tool to think with, and the more you study, the more you understand—like how you can use a single guideline to solve geometry problems, or how great it feels to figure out a proof, or the fun in using simple English vocabulary to say complicated things, or the fun in reading the newspaper after you learn about something in social studies, and because every class has tests, you get immediate results—it’s so satisfying! And then —” Akane shook her head. “What am I saying? I’m sorry. I get carried away sometimes.” She blushed and covered her face with her hands.

“Not at all, not at all.” Miyamoto smiled. “It was a fascinating story. Why, it’s people like you that give me hope for the future of the sciences in this country. Have you already picked a university?”

“I want to go to Tokyo University and study molecular biology under Professor Niuchi.”

“Ah yes, Dr. Niuchi. That’s a good school. And molecular biology is fascinating.”

Akane’s face shone. “I mean, I know life is sacred, but you can’t just call it sacred and leave it at that. You have to get to the bottom of things to really understand them, and I figured that molecular biology would be the place to start.”

“Quite right. I began with physics myself, but your approach is sound.”

“You really think so?”

“So this is what it’s like to be a star student,” Yukari said with disbelief. “You know exactly what you’re going to do after you graduate already?”

“Well, I’m already a junior!”

“Oh yeah, right…” Yukari scratched her head. Yukari had never made it to her junior year. Still, she wondered if she would have been quite so certain about her own future as Akane seemed to be.

“Still,” Yukari said, trying to steer the conversation back, “they have adult tests you can take for credits, and you can always study. You don’t have to be in school to do that. It wasn’t me who first said this, but if you really want to study something, space is the place.”

“Yes,” Akane said, a faraway look in her eyes, “I suppose you’re right.”

There’s that look
, thought Yukari—the look someone got when they first pictured themselves actually being in space. Yukari had seen it a number of times since starting her current job. She had already been on four orbital flights. She was used to zero gravity, the stress of takeoff and reentry, and dealing with the media. But the one thing she was sure she would never grow tired of was the view from space.

It was impossible to put into words or images. They always asked her about it in interviews, and all she could say was her set response: if you really want to know, you have to come see for yourself.

How would she answer Akane if she asked? She didn’t want to give her usual cookie-cutter response, and yet…

“I guess it’s the kind of thing that you can’t know without going to see for yourself,” Akane said suddenly.

Yukari gaped, her eyes going to the other girl’s face. Akane’s eyes were clear as water, staring straight at her.

That was a funny coincidence.

“You want to come with me?” Yukari found herself saying.

Akane said nothing for a moment. Then her eyes drifted downward. “No. No, I think I’m more the study-at-my-desk type.”

“Oh…” Yukari gave a little sigh.
Maybe I was getting ahead of myself.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pressure you or anything.”