//------------------------------// // 1 - A Shooting Star // Story: Secrets in The Stars // by CommissarVulpin //------------------------------// “Ponies are incredibly social creatures. We evolved from grazing herd animals, relying on strength in numbers for safety. After our ancestors developed into the modern Equus sapiens, that inbuilt sense of community led to the development of large settlements as we transformed from nomadic gathering to farming and husbandry. A pony’s psychology is incredibly dependent on companionship and a sense of belonging. What, then, might become of a pony who is deprived of such things? “One might say that in our modern world, with its modern conveniences such as telephones and automobiles, a pony is more connected to her fellows than ever. She needn’t even leave the house to have a conversation or arrange an outing for a picnic. However, I would argue that the ponies of the modern age are more separated from each other than they have been in millennia. Technology has allowed the modern pony to have relationships with an order of magnitude more ponies than she would have a thousand years ago, but at what cost? The cost is that these relationships hold less value; that quantity has become favored over quality. “In ages past, a pony’s whole world might be her small village. She would come to know everyone in it, and everyone would know her. Even in a city, a citizen would have close relationships with the ponies living or working nearby. Their community would be very close-knit. “Is it bad that a pony’s community is less well-defined in the modern age? Not necessarily. However, it can lead to the situation of a pony feeling utterly alone. A missing parent, difficulty making friends, an unfulfilling career, or any number of other things can lead to a pony having no sense of community; no group that she can belong to. And that, in turn, can lead to what we’ll be discussing over the next few days: cults. “Such organizations prey on the lonely and the disenfranchised; those who think that the world has failed them somehow. They give a community, a group of ponies with common beliefs and goals to belong to. And since this sense of belonging is so important in a pony’s psychology, so desperate is a pony’s mind for a community, that they will find their beliefs and goals changing to align with the cult’s. Because if she did not, she could be ostracized from the group. Such a change is entirely subconscious; the mind is a powerful thing.” Spring Bloom listened curiously from the back of the lecture hall. She had arrived early for her accounting course, and decided to listen in on the lecture taking place before hers. It was some kind of psychology class, if the subject matter was any indication. She briefly entertained the thought of attending some more lectures like this, but she had enough on her plate with her master’s accounting courses already. “It appears we’ve run out of time,” she heard the professor say. “We’ll continue the discussion on Wednesday. No assignments for this session.” She quickly stood to the side as dozens of half-asleep students began to file out of the lecture hall. After the professor had left, she took a seat and waited for her own lecture to start. It was an admittedly fascinating course, dealing with the application of a new technology towards business accounting – the maneframe computer. Maneframes weren’t new, strictly speaking; they had been around for over ten years at this point, but advances in magical technology allowed them to fit in a single room, and more and more businesses were purchasing them to help with their bookkeeping. It was an advantage, then, for ponies entering the workforce to have knowledge on how to use the machines. Spring Bloom had heard stories of new graduates in the field now called ‘computer science’ being snatched up by technology companies barely a week after receiving their diploma. And even though such a field barely existed when Spring got her first degree, she had decided that going back to school to pursue her master’s would be an ideal opportunity to learn it. Hopefully it would help her land a high-paying job at one of the rapidly-growing computer companies, such as Starburst Computing Systems, whose maneframe was currently being projected at the front of the lecture hall. “As an example,” the professor was explaining, “Here is the data input device of the SCS 604 installed at our university. It requires special cards, called punch cards, which have holes punched in them at specific points. The positions of these holes are then read by the machine, and the data is fed into the computer for processing. I have a card here, which I will be passing around for you to look at.” When the card came to her, Spring took it in her magic and flipped it over and around, looking at it from all sides. The card consisted of ten rows, numbered zero through nine, and these numbers were repeated across dozens of columns. The words ‘EQUIN STATEMENT’ were printed across the top. The student next to Spring raised his hoof when she passed him the card. The professor paused her lecture. “Yes?” “What does ‘EQUIN STATEMENT’ mean?” The professor smiled slightly. “Ah, yes. I was going to mention that. It refers to something called a ‘programming language’. A computer program can be written in one of many different languages, as different from each other as Ponish and Zebrican. Our SCS maneframe speaks a language called EQUIN, short for Equation Interpretation. It’s a language designed for mathematical calculations, and we use it a lot for science and engineering work. In fact—” the professor reached under her lectern and pulled out a whole stack of punch cards, at least three hundred thick, held together with rubber bands, “—this is an EQUIN program I wrote to calculate the speed of sound in air, taking into account pressure, temperature, and humidity.” From there, the professor continued to explain various peripheral equipment and their functions, such as magnetic core memory, reel-to-reel tape storage, and even a television-style device that could display images. The professor then ended the lecture with an announcement that next week’s session would focus more on operation of the computer, specifically data entry. *** After class, Spring drove home in the dark and arrived to find her husband Starshine already in bed, reading under lamplight. She shed her bags and slumped into bed beside him, letting out a heavy sigh. “How was class?” he asked after giving her a nuzzle. “Interesting, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing these night classes. They’re exhausting.” Starshine gave her a gentle smile. “Well, you only have to put up with it for a few more months, right?” “I guess.” She rolled over and snuggled up to him, burying her face in his chest. His fur smelled like a hospital, so she could guess with some confidence what his day had been like. “More medical exams today?” She asked. She felt him put his book down and wrap his forelegs around her. “Yep. Full physical, tip to tail. How could you tell?” “You smell like antiseptic.” “I even took a shower and everything! I’ll never understand that nose of yours.” “How did it go?” She asked after a few moments. Starshine chuckled. “Flying colors, as usual.” Spring Bloom felt him puff out his chest a little. She couldn’t help but smile at that; he had always been a straight-A student, and a star hoofball player to boot. Sometimes Spring wondered why he had wanted to date her of all mares; there were plenty of far prettier ones on the cheerleading squad. But no, he picked her, the awkward one who barely squeaked by with a C in most of her classes. “Sometimes I wonder why they keep doing that. You always pass. Doesn’t it seem like a waste of time?” “You know how these things are, honey. They have to be thorough. What if something happened in orbit? It’s not exactly easy to provide medical care up there. The whole crew needs to be at one-hundred percent.” Spring snuggled a little tighter. “I’m worried.” “About the launch?” he asked, to which she nodded. Starshine didn’t respond right away, simply stroking her mane. This was a worry Spring had had since his very first trip into space. She had been a nervous wreck that first time, barely sleeping at all until his hooves were back on the ground. To make matters worse, he would be flying to the launch complex in Baltimare tomorrow, so she wouldn’t even be able to see him for a whole week before the launch. “That’s why they’re being so careful about everything,” he said, trying to assuage her fears. “They’re trying their best to make absolutely sure that nothing goes wrong. I’m sure the engineers are being just as thorough with the ship as the doctors are being with my health.” Spring didn’t say anything. She knew there was nothing he could say to make her apprehension disappear completely, but she appreciated the effort. “What will you be doing in space?” Spring asked, curious about his mission despite the dangers. “Well, I…” Spring pulled away and looked him in the eye, frowning at his nervous pause. “What?” “I’ve been told by my superiors that this mission is to be kept secret,” he replied. “Although I don’t really know why…” Starshine’s missions had never been secret before. They were always boring drivel like conducting experiments or observing the surface. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious, but she had to restrain herself. If he couldn’t tell her anything, he couldn’t tell her, and that was that. He must have sensed her discomfort, because he continued with, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt too much if I told you a little about it.” Spring’s ears perked up. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I don’t want you to get in trouble.” “No, no, it’s fine. Like I said, I don’t see why they’re bothering to keep it a secret. I don’t see how this could be sensitive. But just to be safe, I want you to promise not to tell anypony, okay?” Spring nodded quickly, eager to hear what this ‘top-secret’ mission was about. “We’re being given a special machine to measure some kind of magic field in space. Apparently the magic fields of the planet would cause interference, so we’re taking readings in orbit.” Spring blinked. “That’s it?” “That’s it. See what I mean?” “Huh. I thought it would be something more…intriguing.” “Exactly. But they must have a good reason, so you have to keep it secret.” “I will.” Starshine’s face cracked into a yawn, and he rolled over onto his back. “I should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.” He turned off the light, and Spring felt his breathing slow a few minutes later. She couldn’t settle down as easily, her mind racing into all the ways she could imagine a rocket launch going wrong, and fretting over all the ways she couldn’t imagine. Eventually, her exhaustion took over and she fell into a fitful sleep. *** The next week passed by in a blur. Starshine spent that time in medical quarantine, forbidden from leaving the launch complex to prevent catching anything that might affect his performance before launch. Spring had gotten her train tickets and hotel room in Baltimare a day early, so she had at least been able to see him the night before the launch. They had been separated by a rope cordon and a two-lane road at the launch site, but it had calmed her nerves a little. Spring currently sat on the bleachers in the observation area, watching the rocket on its launch pad on the other side of Horseshoe Bay. It was a tall bluish cylinder with a gold tip, delicately supported by the grey latticework of the tower next to it. She knew from pictures that it was painted with flowing blues and purples, scattered with stars to be reminiscent of Princess Luna – without whom Equestria’s space program would never have become a reality – but at this distance, it simply looked like an elegant fountain pen stood up on its end. She also knew that the very tip of the fragile cylinder held three ponies, her husband among them. Gradually, the bleachers filled up. Huge rotating platforms bristling with cameras were set up, oriented to film the rocket as it took off. Enough ponies had gathered that some had to sit on the grass, but Spring was no longer surprised that so many had shown up to watch. Witnessing an Equestrian rocket liftoff was one of the most breathtaking sights ever beheld by pony eyes. For the benefit of the crowd, a large clock had been brought to the site, so the audience could watch the countdown. “All systems are go. Ready for launch,” a voice announced over the loudspeakers. “Sixty seconds to liftoff.” The clock began to count down, and the sound from the audience instantly changed from excited chatter to apprehensive silence. “Thirty seconds.” “Fifteen seconds.” “Ten…nine…eight…seven…ignition sequence start.” As she watched, a huge cloud of white and grey smoke spewed from the base of the rocket and shot out horizontally to each side. “Four…three…two…one.” On ‘one’, the white cylinder began to move slowly upward. As it rose, a bright plume of fire could be seen erupting from its base. “And we have liftoff of Sunrise Four, on August 8, 1665 at 8:11 am local time!” The announcer called excitedly. The rocket gained speed as it ascended, soon clearing the support tower atop a column of smoke. Spring watched it climb, steadily growing faster as it quickly reached heights and speeds no pegasus could hope to match. Then came the sound. She had been expecting it, and she could identify the newcomers by the gasps in the crowd. It started as a low rumble, growing in volume and intensity. It soon became a thunderous roar, even at this distance; a low crackling bass that betrayed the power behind it. She could feel it vibrating in her chest. The roar then began to dissipate as the rocket became nothing more than a point of light slowly arcing upwards and out towards the ocean. Once the show was over, the crowd began to disperse, and the camera crews began to put away their equipment. Spring Bloom, however, remained standing on the grass, staring at the plume of grey smoke that still lingered around the launchpad. She felt a tear forming in her eye, partly from the breathtaking scene which had just transpired, but mostly from knowing her husband was strapped to the top of that thing. “Is this your first launch?” A soothing voice came from behind her. She spun around to see the graceful form of Princess Celestia standing there. It was a sight she had only seen on TV and in pictures, neither of which did justice to the real thing. Though she still wore her golden shoes, her usual tiara and gorget had been eschewed in favor of a radio headset and a vest emblazoned with an ESA patch. Spring’s manners quickly took over and she took a quick bow. “Your Majesty, I… no. It’s actually my fourth.” “I can’t blame you for coming back. Isn’t it amazing?” “Well, yes, but… my husband is up there, and… it looks really dangerous.” She hated how much she sounded like a whimpering filly right now, in front of the Princess. The Princess’ expression, however, was one of gentle sympathy. “Ah. I can assure you, the utmost precautions have been taken to ensure the safety of the crew. Nothing is more valuable than a pony’s life.” “I know, and I keep telling myself that… he’s been on three missions before this, and he’s always come home safe, but I can never stop thinking about what could happen.” Princess Celestia smiled compassionately, and leaned down to meet Spring Bloom eye-to-eye. “How about this?” She said softly as she magically removed her headset and placed it over Spring Bloom’s ears. “That will let you listen to everything that goes on.” Spring Bloom smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” *** “Okay, second stage jettison,” Snowberry, the capsule pilot, said as he pressed the proper button. The explosive bolts detonated as normal, driving the spent fuel tanks and engines away from the ship, leaving only the capsule and its small engine drifting in orbit. “Haha!” Summer Breeze, the chief science officer, was beaming from ear to ear as she unbuckled her restraints and removed her helmet. “This is my favorite part!” She used her wings to help her drift about the cabin in microgravity. No longer restrained by her helmet or the tug of gravity, her mane drifted freely and assumed wild shapes around her head. “I’m just glad the launch is over,” Snowberry said with relief as he, too, unbuckled himself and floated about. “How many gees did we pull? Four?” “Sounds about right.” Starshine removed his harness and helmet as well, but remained in his seat. “I just love being up here,” Summer Breeze mused as she drifted over to the window. Four hundred kilometers below them lay the planet Equus, the continents forming their characteristic shapes. White clouds obscured parts of it, conforming to various weather and wind patterns. “Okay guys, get back in your seats,” Starshine instructed after letting the crew drift around for a few minutes. “Snowberry needs to make our orbital insertion burn soon and I don’t want you slamming into anything.” Summer Breeze and Snowberry both complied, and made their way back into their respective seats. They buckled themselves in, and Snowberry began taking various measurements from the array of dials. After doing some quick calculations, the pilot punched a few numbers into the ship’s computer, which took command of the reaction control system and began to gently tilt the spacecraft around. Puffs of white gas made the ship slowly turn to face in the correct direction for the next burn of the engine, and then a few more puffs of gas slowed it to a halt. Another command to the computer gave it the parameters for the engine burn, and a final confirmation set the computer counting down until it would light the engine and give the ship its final push into orbit. Confirmation came with a noticeable vibration, and the astronauts felt themselves pushed back in their seats slightly from the acceleration. A few seconds later, the computer shut off the engine again. “Alright, you can go back to floating around again,” Starshine said. “Let’s check in with control and start with our on-orbit checklists.” *** Spring Bloom sat in her hotel room, listening intently to every radio exchange between the Horizon station and mission control. Not everything they said was over the radio; she couldn’t hear the conversations between individual crew members, for instance. Most of the chatter was Mission Control checking up on the crew, to which they’d respond with their respective statuses; everything always checked out okay. From what she was able to discern, they were conducting experiments on much more than just the magic field Starshine had talked about. Her head spun with technical jargon that she couldn’t make head nor tail of, but her ears perked up at the mention of something called ‘the Box’. *** “We read you five-by, Control. Sun’s just coming up on our side, you should really be here to see this.” Starshine watched the planet slowly turn beneath the small spacecraft as he spoke to the control station on the surface. The ship was crossing the dawn terminator – the border between night and day – and the sun was peeking over the horizon in a stunning display of light and colors. The reply from Mission Control came quickly. “Copy, you’re coming through nice and clear on our end. Once you’ve got your magnetometry gear stowed, we’re gonna have you guys go ahead and set up the Box.” Starshine confirmed the request from Control, then pushed himself from the cockpit into the small laboratory behind the seats. Space was a premium here, and the spacecraft designers had packed everything as tightly as they could get away with. The absence of a definite ‘up’ in microgravity proved to be an advantage here, as every interior surface could be covered with stowage space and scientific equipment. There was no need to provide a surface for a pony to stand. Summer Breeze was already inside, stowing a device securely onto a bulkhead. The lab was just large enough for two ponies to work side-by side, and Starshine sidled up to her as she finished. “Got that thing secure?” he asked. Summer allowed herself to gently drift away from the bulkhead and turned to face Starshine, throwing him a mock salute as she did so. “Everything ship-shape here, cap’n!” The gesture was made even more ridiculous by the fact that she was currently upside-down from Starshine’s point of view. “Outstanding. You know where we stowed the Box, right?” “That brass steampunk-looking thing? Yeah, it’s right here.” Summer turned to another bulkhead and started unstrapping a rectangular box made of brass and wood, with an obvious gauge on the front and a few buttons and lights. The whole assembly looked like it could have come straight from a 150-year-old science fiction novel. The thing about this device that first piqued Starshine’s interest was that it wasn’t a standard ESA experiment. It had, in fact, been built by some other group of scientists, and had been given to the space agency so that they could take readings in space. They had paid good money, so there was no problem there, but the whole thing had been very hush-hush. It was as if this mystery group was trying to keep the purpose of this experiment from as many ears as possible, to the extent that not even the astronauts performing the experiment knew exactly what it was. She hoofed it over to him, and Starshine started pressing buttons in the way he had been trained to start up the device. Some of the lights started to flash in indecipherable patterns, and the gauge on the front slowly rose to about a quarter of the way up. “Now that’s interesting…” he mused. “How so?” Summer asked. “This gauge here was pegged at zero when it was tested on the ground. I thought that was strange, since if it measured magic fields, wouldn’t it have picked up something from Equestria? But now it’s detecting something in space that doesn’t exist on the surface.” As Summer pondered the implications of that, Starshine opened up communications with Mission Control again. “Control, Sunrise.” “Roger Sunrise, go ahead.” “I’m getting some strange readings from the Box.” “Strange how?” “The gauge was pegged zero on the ground, but now it’s reading 248, about a quarter of the way up.” “Well, the scientists who built this thing told us to expect strange readings, and just record them anyway. So just keep taking measurements every half hour or so.” “Roger.” As Starshine continued to take regular readings from the device, he suddenly got the strange feeling that somepony was watching him. The fur at the nape of his neck stood up, and he turned around, but Snowberry and Summer were both back in the cockpit. He returned to watching the gauge, but he couldn’t shake the inexplicable feeling that something was in the capsule with him. *** Three days later, all of the experiments required for their stay in space had been completed, and the Sunrise crew was making their preparations to return. Everything in the lab was stowed and secured, and the three astronauts were strapped into their seats, busy working through their respective checklists. Starshine listened in as Snowberry coordinated the ship’s final maneuver with Mission Control. “Okay, Sunrise, we’ve got you starting de-orbit burn at T-minus six minutes, thirty seconds on my mark.” “Roger, locking in the burn.” Snowberry punched the required parameters into the computer and waited for the signal to begin the countdown. “Mark.” The capsule’s pilot pressed the button, and the computer began to silently count down, ticking the seconds until the engine would be re-lit to slow them down and allow the planet’s gravity to pull them back home. After floating for days in the cold vacuum of space, the engine would have to start up again flawlessly in order to perform the required de-orbit maneuver. “De-orbit burn locked in for T-minus six minutes even, on my mark…mark.” “Looks good on our end, Sunrise. We’ll monitor the burn from here and let you know when to expect comms blackout.” “Roger.” Six minutes later, the computer gave the command to ignite the engine. Starshine felt the rocket ignite beneath him, shuddering the whole ship. He felt the vibrations intensify as the engine slowly throttled up. Suddenly, there was a violent rattling noise, followed by a sickening screech. An alarm began to sound, followed by others as the rocket shut off. “What the hay… main engine shutoff. Amp surge in turbopump circuit,” Starshine reported. Snowberry’s eyes snapped to his control panel, and quickly scanned the flashing alerts and gauges. Starshine saw him focus on the pressure gauge for turbopump #2, which had quickly fallen to zero. “Oxygen turbopump failure,” He said to the other two. The rocket was fueled with supercooled liquid hydrogen kept in insulated tanks, and then boiled off as it was needed. In order to burn the hydrogen in space, a supply of liquid oxygen was also kept. The two were mixed, and then ignited. The explosive reaction then was directed out the nozzle at the rear of the ship. Normally, two turbopumps would constantly supply the rocket with dozens of gallons of hydrogen and oxygen every second; however, the oxygen turbopump had stopped. Without oxygen, the hydrogen being vented out could not be ignited, and the rocket had stopped. “Roger. See if you can get it started again,” Starshine responded. Snowberry searched for a way to start the pump again. He pressed a button labeled OMS PUMP TEB INJECT a few times. The control would normally send a shot of highly volatile chemicals through the fuel system, which would hopefully kickstart the turbopumps; but aside from a series of muffled thumps, there was no effect. [1]As Snowberry lifted his hoof to try another switch, the pump’s pressure suddenly shot up again…but Starshine didn’t have time to process it before a giant explosion rocked the cabin. Starshine grunted as he was thrown to the side against his restraints. Alarms screamed from all sides, filling the cabin with noise. Through the window, he could see sunlight flashing periodically as the ship tumbled. “Control, something’s gone wrong here.” Over the radio, a mission controller replied. “Yeah, we’re reading a huge voltage drop here. Accelerometers going crazy, turbopumps nonresponsive… what’ve you got?” “Um… nav ball is showing some pretty significant rotation… something’s put us into a spin. RCS is straining to keep up… Did you say turbopumps plural?” “Roger, Sunrise, both the oxygen and the hydrogen pumps are offline.” “Right. Uh, we’re reading zero on the main oxygen tanks, what’ve you got, Control?” “We’ve got the same thing. Oxygen zero, hydrogen 725 and falling. We’re reading undervolt on main busses 1 and 2, also.” “Roger that, Control. What about backup oxygen?” “Backup oxygen looks good. We’re picking up some oscillations, but the level seems stable. What the hay just happened?” “Turbopump #2 failed, and then there was a huge explosion.” There was a pause. “Sunrise, we’re going to have to leave you for a minute and deliberate down here. Could you sit tight for a bit?” “Roger, Control. We’ll see if we can get it under control; we keep coming awful close to gimbal lock.” *** Back on the surface, in Mission Control, the technicians were conversing with each other behind their computer consoles. At the behest of the flight director, a stern stallion with a flat-top manecut, the technician in charge of the electrical and environmental systems reported first. “Okay, let’s start at the beginning. Readouts show a number 2 turbopump failure four seconds before everything went off the charts. Current main oxygen levels are zip, hydrogen is draining fast. Both fuel cells are offline, the ship is running on battery power right now.” The pony in charge of communicating with the astronauts spoke up next. “We keep losing communications, and guidance tells me their gimbal is all over the place. If that’s not indicative of a tumble, I don’t know what is.” The flight director thought for a moment. “Ask them to look out the window, see if they’re venting anything into space.” *** Aboard the spacecraft, Starshine continued to struggle with the controls as the ship fought his attempts to stabilize it. “Sunrise, Control. Could you take a look out the window and see if there’s any kind of gas coming from the ship?” Starshine’s blood ran cold at the implication, but turned to look out the window. He saw a cloud of white gas spewing from the cylindrical body of the spacecraft, right where the fuel tanks should be. “I confirm, Control. We are venting something into space.” There was a pause. “Copy that, Sunrise. The techs here are saying your oxygen tank ruptured. That gas you’re seeing is the last of the hydrogen, since the tank was probably damaged in the explosion.” Starshine froze. He glanced to his crewmates. They were both acting calm and collected, the picture of space agency professionalism. But he could see in their eyes that they were afraid. “Roger that, Control.” *** “There’s no immediate danger, because the breathing oxygen supply appears to be undamaged. We can divert the backup oxygen to run the fuel cells and keep power, but without an engine they’re not getting out of orbit.” The flight director spoke up. “What’s their orbital profile look like? Can someone pull that up on the monitors?” After some scrambling, the huge multi-panel television display at the front of the mission control room sprung to life with an image of the planet represented as a circle. Drawn around it was another circle, indicating the projected path of the Sunrise capsule. “Okay, the small burn they managed to get in only got their periapsis down to… about 300 kilometers.” “How many orbits will it take for them to reach final re-entry?” “They’ll be just scraping the edge, so it’s going to take a few passes. We won’t be able to predict the landing site, though.” “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Right now I just want to focus on getting those pilots back on the ground.” *** Spring Bloom sat glued to her headset, eyes brimming with tears. Something had gone wrong with her husband’s ship, and that might mean he wouldn’t come home. Mission control said their oxygen tanks exploded, right? Don’t ponies need oxygen to breathe? What if he suffocates? Worst-case scenarios filled her thoughts as the radio silence dragged on. She perked up as the radio connection sprung to life again. “Okay, Sunrise, you there?” “Roger, Control, we hear you.” “Okay, we’ve determined that your short burn there was enough for re-entry within a few orbits. However, we can’t predict where you’ll end up.” “If it means getting my hooves on solid ground, I don’t care where I end up.” “We had a feeling you’d say that. So go ahead and jettison your engine and try to get yourselves stable again.” There was a pause. “Okay, Control. Final stage is cut, and RCS is doing a good job of getting rid of that spin.” “Can you see the engine?” “One second… yeah, there it is. Holy Celestia…” “What are you seeing?” “One whole side of the housing is gone. The engine looks heavily damaged, and the turbopumps are shredded. The oxygen tank is completely blown apart, and the hydrogen tank looks like a crushed soda can.” “Roger that, Sunrise.” “Could the explosion have damaged our heatshield?” “Say again, Sunrise?” “I said will our heatshield be alright?” Another long pause. “To be honest, Sunrise, we don’t know. There’s no other way to get you out of orbit, though, and you can’t avoid re-entry even if you wanted to, with your engine out of the picture. So we’ll just have to wait and find out.” *** Forty minutes later, Sunrise began its first aerobraking pass. The tiny capsule skimmed the edges of the atmosphere; however, there was not enough drag to slow its orbit down enough to land. Sunrise would have to make two or three more passes before its velocity was slowed enough to fall back down to the planet’s surface. *** Spring Bloom had the hotel’s television set turned on now, flipping through news channels as she desperately searched for any information she could find about her husband’s spacecraft. The more rational side of her mind was gently insisting that her headset gave her the best source of information possible, but that side was being drowned out by panic. As she came around to the primary new channels again, she stopped short as she heard the anchor say some familiar words. “…Equestrian Space Administration, who has requested an urgent press release to be distributed to all news networks.” The anchor slid over a sheet of paper on his desk and began to read it. “’The Equestrian Space Administration would like to inform the public about a developing situation aboard the Sunrise spacecraft currently in orbit. We cannot go into detail until more information becomes available, but the most important effect to note is that the spacecraft is currently off-course and heading for an unknown landing spot. At approximately 6:30 pm Canterlot Standard Time, be on the lookout for a streaking light in the sky, headed west to east. If you should see such a light, please notify the Equestrian Space Administration’s office immediately.’” The anchor looked up from the sheet and adjusted his glasses. “Well, it appears that our astronauts are in a bit of a bind right now, but I’m sure everything will be just fine. To shed some more light on the topic, I’ve called EBC’s technical correspondent, Jet Stream, to the news desk.” The camera zoomed out to show a pegasus stallion sitting next to the news anchor, who had a model of the golden, gumdrop-shaped space capsule next to him. “Thank you. Something that our viewers might not know are the conditions that the capsule needs to withstand during re-entry. Orbiting the planet requires the spacecraft to be moving very fast, covering over seven and a half kilometers every second. Of course, coming back to Equus means they have to slow back down again. The easiest way to do this is simply falling back into the atmosphere and letting air resistance do the work for you.” The news anchor broke in to ask a question. “Couldn’t you use unicorn magic to slow down the spacecraft?” “You have to remember that the spacecraft is a four-meter wide object moving twenty-two times the speed of sound, three hundred kilometers off the ground. It’s impossible to even see it in orbit. “Which brings me to the next challenge: when you’re moving that fast, even the air is a serious obstacle. The shockwave from the spacecraft causes the air to heat up around the spacecraft to over 1600 degrees. This is far too hot for even magical shields, so the spacecraft uses a specialized heatshield constructed of materials designed to burn away and carry the heat with it. If this shield is damaged in any way, however, heat can make its way inside and destroy the capsule in a matter of seconds. Then, after re-entry, a series of parachutes will open to slow it down for a safe landing in the ocean.” “I hate to sound like a broken record,” the news anchor spoke up again, “but couldn’t unicorn magic be used to catch the spacecraft instead of parachutes?” “In theory, yes,” the technical correspondent replied. “But even the most accurate landings ended up as many as two or three kilometers away from the recovery ships. Our earlier forays into space ended up landing hundreds of kilometers away. Relying on a team of unicorns to consistently see and catch a 25-ton spacecraft plummeting at five hundred kilometers per hour is too unsafe to risk, so automatic parachutes are used instead.” The pegasus gave a wry smile. “Unicorns are, however, used to lift the capsule onto the recovery ship once its landing site is located. I’ve heard this process is far gentler than the original impact with the sea.” *** After two more orbits around the planet, Sunrise’s velocity was finally lowered enough to fall back down to the surface. The sun had set on this side of the planet, and so the capsule would be descending through dark skies. “Okay Sunrise, this is it. You’re coming in for a re-entry this time.” “Roger, control. How long until blackout?” “About five minutes.” “Copy. See you on the other side.” Soon, the crew began to see red-hot gases fly past the windows. The blunt shape of the capsule shoving its way through the air at hypersonic speeds was causing the atmospheric gases to heat up into a plasma. This plasma interfered with radio communication, cutting off all contact with ground control. Both mission control and Spring Bloom held their breath, waiting for the moment when the Sunrise capsule would be slowed enough for the parachutes to open and safely lower it to the ground. *** That night, there was a shooting star above Saddle Arabia.