Boldly Go Read online

  Boldly Go

  A Teen Astronauts novel

  Eric Walters

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  Copyright © Eric Walters 2023

  Published in Canada and the United States in 2023 by Orca Book Publishers.

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  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Title: Boldly go / Eric Walters.

  Names: Walters, Eric, 1957- author.

  Series: Walters, Eric, 1957- Teen astronauts ; 2.

  Description: Series statement: A teen astronauts novel ; 2

  Identifiers: Canadiana (print) 20220188785 | Canadiana (ebook) 20220188793 | ISBN 9781459828766 (softcover) | ISBN 9781459828773 (PDF) | ISBN 9781459828780 (EPUB)

  Classification: LCC PS8595.A598 B65 2023 | DDC jC813/.54—dc23

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2022934480

  Summary: In this novel for middle readers, fourteen-year-old Houston is on his way to the International Space Station as part of a NASA study.

  Orca Book Publishers is committed to reducing the consumption of nonrenewable resources in the production of our books. We make every effort to use materials that support a sustainable future.

  Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada, the Canada Council for the Arts and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

  Cover design by Rachel Page

  Cover images by Getty Images/Jonathan Knowles and Creative Market/Hala (front) and Stocksy/Evan Dalen (back).

  Author photo by Anita Walters

  To those who boldly go—and those who cheer them on!

  * * *

  One

  The checklist continued—so many systems had to receive a go. I knew that even one failure in one system might mean the mission would have to be scrubbed. I didn’t want anything to go wrong that would prevent liftoff. At least, most of me didn’t.

  “T-minus sixty seconds and counting,” came the announcement. “Power is being transferred to internal computers.”

  I felt panic starting to build. There was no way to stop this, no way out. I had to stay calm. I closed my eyes. I needed to find a peaceful place to go.

  I thought about my family watching below, about saying goodbye to them over breakfast that morning. My four-year-old cousins, the Boo-Boos, fighting over the last piece of bacon, my uncle shaking my hand, my aunt hugging me. It was the last breakfast we would share for a few weeks at least, but it could be for up to six months. Or maybe even the last one we’d ever share together. I still remembered the last meal I’d shared with my parents before the accident. My aunt had mentioned how proud of me she was and how proud she knew they would have been if they could be here to see it all happen. I liked to think that somehow they knew.

  Saying goodbye to my family had been hard. Saying goodbye to Teal had been different. She’d kissed me. It was the kiss we hadn’t had months earlier. She’d surprised me. And made me happy, and here I was, strapped to a gigantic rocket that was going to blast me into space, and I was thinking about that kiss instead of what was happening all around me. Maybe she was my happy place.

  “Onboard systems are a go,” came the voice. “We are T-minus seventeen…sixteen…fifteen…fourteen…thirteen… twelve…eleven…ten…nine…eight…”

  It was happening.

  “Six…five…start ignition…two…one.”

  The whole rocket started to shake violently, and I had the sense we were moving ever so slowly and—

  “We have liftoff…we have liftoff!”

  I opened my eyes. I wanted to see every second of it. No matter what.

  Here we were, Ashley and me, along for the ride. We’d just turned fourteen and were the youngest people ever to go to space.

  We were sitting on top of a rocket filled with fuel that was igniting and shooting us upward! Even through our helmets the sound was deafening. It filled the capsule and my ears and the inside of my head.

  As the vibrations got stronger, it felt like we were moving from side to side instead of up. It seemed like the entire rocket would be shaken to pieces if it continued like this much longer.

  I reached out a gloved hand and tapped Ashley on her gloved hand. She turned slightly, peering out at me through the visor of her helmet, and tried to smile. She looked as scared as I felt.

  “They have cleared the tower! They have cleared the tower!” came the voice through my earpiece.

  That meant we’d pulled away from the platform and the bottom of the rocket was at least two hundred feet off the ground. We were another one hundred feet above that. We were now as far above the ground as if we were on the thirtieth story of a skyscraper.

  I looked up at the timer above my head on the main control panel. It had been ticking down the time until launch and now was counting the seconds since the time of ignition. It had been seven seconds—how was it possible that so little time had passed? It had seemed so much longer!

  The shaking subsided as we started to gain height and speed. Ten seconds…twelve seconds…the timer kept ticking. Each second was a good second. I knew that the most dangerous time was the first ninety seconds. Liftoffs and landings, just like with airplanes, were the dangerous times. I would have given anything to just be in an airplane right now. No, that was wrong. I would have given anything to be exactly where I was, in the capsule of a spaceship on top of a rocket headed to space.

  I could feel the pressure building, settling onto my chest as the g-forces kept increasing. At that same instant I realized our orientation was changing. We were rolling over—as we were supposed to do—and would soon be almost upside down. Rather than going straight up, the path of the spaceship had to curve so that we could enter into orbit rather than shooting off into space.

  The timer clicked to thirty seconds.

  Another message came from Mission Control. “Elevation 9,800 feet, speed is 510 miles per hour, six miles downrange distance traveled from launch site.”

  My mind could hardly make sense of those numbers. In half a minute we’d traveled almost two miles up and six miles away from the launch tower. That was unbelievable speed, but of course nothing like our speed would be once we reached orbit. If we did reach orbit.

  There was one number that was stuck in my brain—seventy-three seconds. January 28, 1986, long before I was born. The twenty-fifth space shuttle mission. The one where Challenger blew up just after launch. Seventy-three seconds after launch. I could picture it so clearly, but then again, why wouldn’t I be able to? I’d seen it dozens of times.

  The Challenger launch had started perfectly—just as our launch had been perfect so far. The rocket had lifted off. It had been gaining elevation and speed, going so much faster than we were right now, much farther from the launch pad but still visible to all the people on
the ground and those watching on TV and then—

  “Nozzle throttling back to 72 percent of rated performance to reduce velocity,” the voice said into my earpiece.

  I knew this meant we were just breaking the speed of sound. Increases in acceleration velocity were being slowed to stabilize and reduce the stress on the ship.

  It had been a fault in the O-rings that caused the Challenger disaster. When the O-rings that sealed sections of the rocket booster failed, exhaust gas escaped from the booster and damaged the fuel tank, causing a massive explosion. The spacecraft disintegrated into three pieces that shot out in different directions.

  I looked up at the timer. It was coming up to the sixty-five-second mark. In only a few seconds more in that Challenger launch, the greatest disaster in the history of space exploration had happened.

  There had been six trained astronauts and one civilian aboard that flight. The civilian, Christa McAuliffe, was a teacher who’d been selected to go on the flight. Sort of the way Ashley and I were on this flight. She’d received training the way we had, but she wasn’t a full-fledged astronaut. Her being on board and going into space had gotten almost as much attention as the announcement that Ashley and I were headed to the International Space Station.

  If something happened to us as well, it would be a bizarre coincidence. Not that I’d live to be aware of that coincidence. If it happened, we’d be blown into a million little pieces in the tiniest fraction of a second and have no awareness of—

  I looked at the timer again. We were now eighty seconds into our flight. I smiled. We were safe. The first seventy-three seconds were over. We’d survived my worst fear, that the world—my family—would be watching as we exploded. Instead the timer kept ticking away and we kept gaining altitude.

  “Nine miles downrange from launch site. Elevation has increased to over fifteen thousand feet,” the voice said.

  We’d passed that magical seventy-three, and the shaking seemed to lessen. It was like it wasn’t just in my head but the rocket itself agreed we were safe now. I could feel movement, but it was almost like we were on an airplane and not strapped to a rocket heading into outer space. I had to chuckle. It wasn’t that long ago that I’d had my first airplane ride and had vomited into an airsickness bag.

  I looked at the timer again. We were now almost two minutes into the flight. The worst two minutes, the most dangerous two minutes of the entire mission, were over. What had Colonel Sanderson said to me? Just enjoy the ride. For the first time, I thought I understood what he’d meant.

  There was a loud noise, the capsule shook, and I had a rush of fear.

  “Solid rocket booster separation. We have successfully detached,” came the voice from Mission Control.

  Of course that’s what it was. I knew that. I knew every step of the way. I knew I was really just a passenger with nothing to do, but I had to keep focused. I couldn’t let my mind wander or my fears overcome me. Okay, okay, think, concentrate, focus. I closed my eyes again.

  Our acceleration and velocity would continue to increase as we gained altitude. The thinning air offered less resistance and allowed greater speed. This would continue until we reached a low-level orbit. In less than seven minutes we’d cross that line between high elevation and outer space, and go into low orbit. We’d be leaving behind Earth and its atmosphere and gravity. At that point our speed would be seventeen thousand miles per hour, or twenty-seven thousand kilometers per hour. That was five miles, or eight kilometers, each second. We’d be traveling about thirty times faster than a passenger plane. All those numbers amazed and comforted me. I liked numbers. They gave me certainty and calmed my mind.

  There was a tap on my hand, and I opened my eyes and looked over. It was the colonel.

  “Houston, how are you doing?” he asked, his voice coming through the comms in my helmet.

  “Great…good…okay.”

  “All acceptable answers,” he said. “Ashley?”

  “This is sort of fun,” she answered.

  “That’s the attitude. You’ll remember these moments for the rest of your life.”

  Before anything else could be said there was more chatter from Mission Control. Some of it was too technical for me to understand. What I did understand was that we continued to gain altitude and speed. Things were going according to plan.

  I looked around the capsule. There were six of us. We were all in our white helmets and gloves and identical flight suits. The only difference between the suits was in the small patch on the upper left sleeve. Captain Elliott’s had a Canadian flag, and Dr. Mendoza’s the Portuguese. The other four of us had American flags on ours. Awaiting us on the ISS were a Russian cosmonaut and a French astronaut. Four other members of the space station had left two weeks before our scheduled arrival.

  The international space program was a partnership and was run by a group of organizations that included the National Aeronautics and Space Administration, better known as NASA, the European Space Agency (ESA), the Roscosmos State Space Corporation (RSSC), the Chinese National Space Administration (CNSA) and affiliated countries, including Canada, Brazil, South Korea, India and Japan.

  We were strapped into our seats and surrounded by panels and dials. I actually knew what every single one of them recorded or controlled. We’d spent a lot of time in the simulator and in mock-ups of this capsule, and once I learned something, it stuck in my head. So this was all familiar.

  “Trajectory is perfect, speed is perfect, attitude is perfect for entering orbit,” came the word from Mission Control.

  In the capsule—and in the background at Mission Control—there was cheering.

  “All flight control is ready to be relinquished by the ground. Commander Ingram, are you ready to assume control?”

  Lieutenant Colonel Rebecca Ingram was the commander of our mission.

  “Frank?” she asked. “Are you ready to take the yoke?”

  “Affirmative,” he replied. Captain Frank Elliott had piloted this shuttle three times and was sitting at the controls.

  “Mission Control, we are ready,” Commander Ingram said.

  “Roger that,” the voice below said. “We are handing off control. It’s your bird to fly!”

  Colonel Sanderson let out a little hoot. “To boldly go, baby!”

  Colonel Sanderson had never struck me as a Star Trek sort of guy, but that line from the introduction to the show left little doubt. I could hear those words being said by both Captain Kirk and Captain Jean-Luc Picard.

  At seventy-two years of age, Colonel Sanderson was by far the oldest and most experienced member of our mission. He’d been a commander, and he’d been a pilot. He would have loved to have been piloting this spacecraft, but we all knew we were in great hands with Captain Elliott. He was the best.

  I’d had so many practice flights on the flight simulator that I could probably have flown the ship. Not that they’d ever let me. Not that I wanted to try. On the simulator, making a mistake just meant resetting the program. Here it could mean either not entering orbit or having the wrong trajectory and shooting into space.

  “Is everybody feeling it?” Colonel Sanderson called out.

  I was going to ask Feel what? but it became obvious. We were still strapped into our seats, but instead of pressure on my chest I was feeling much, much lighter. As we were gaining altitude, we were leaving gravity behind. We weren’t at weightlessness yet, but we were nearing that state as we approached orbit.

  “How much longer?” Ashley asked.

  “Less than a minute,” the colonel answered. “Ashley, you’re a little bit older than Houston, right?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I turned fourteen on August 5, and Houston’s birthday was in September.”

  “September 19,” I said.

  “In that case, I want Ashley to lean forward, and Houston, you should try to sink back into your chair a little.”

  “But why?” we asked in unison.

  We looked at each other and exchanged a
nod and a smile. Answering together was no surprise, nor were answering for the other or completing the other’s sentences. We’d been almost inseparable for the last four months—the two of us and Teal, who was on the ground, at Mission Control.

  I had a pang of guilt. I wished Teal could have been up here with us, but only two of the three of us had been allowed to go. It wasn’t like I’d made the decision for her not to come.

  “So are you going to explain?” Ashley asked.

  “Just do what you’ve been told,” the colonel said.

  “You better listen,” Commander Ingram added. “He definitely outranks you.”

  “And he’s probably older than your grandparents,” Dr. Mendoza, the last member of our crew, chimed in from behind us.

  “Hey, hey, a little respect! I’m a living legend!”

  Everybody in the capsule laughed. And a delayed laugh came from the ground.

  Ashley leaned forward, and I pressed myself against the seat. That was hard to do because there was so little gravity holding me down.

  “So, Frank, is it official?” Colonel Sanderson asked.

  Captain Elliott looked at his controls and monitors. “We’re just coming up to the Kármán line.”

  I knew exactly what he meant. The line was named after a physicist, Theodore von Kármán. It was the altitude—sixty-two miles, or one hundred kilometers—at which, technically, Earth’s atmosphere ended and—

  “It’s official. We’re in space,” Captain Elliott confirmed.

  “And that means you two are the very first teenagers ever to be in space!” Commander Ingram announced.

  She reached over and shook Ashley’s hand and then mine. Colonel Sanderson, Captain Elliott and Dr. Mendoza clapped. I could also hear clapping and hollering from Mission Control through my comm link.

  “Okay,” Colonel Sanderson said, “you two can just relax in your seats now.”

  “But why did you have me lean forward to begin with?” Ashley asked.

  “And me press into my seat,” I added.