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// Prologue: The Mission 
// Story: Nightmare to Earth 
// by bobdat 
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The inside of the suit was very hot, Tony noted, as the foot of a technician pressed down painfully on his shoulder. The strap pulled his shoulder tightly to the seat behind him, but the padding meant that it didn't really bite. What was more uncomfortable was the proximity of his two colleagues, also receiving the same treatment. Sat either side of him, their shoulders brushed his and he had an urge to move away. But of course, now he was strapped in, he could barely move anything except his arms.

Testing this theory, Tony found he could also move his ankles, but not very much. As the technician shut the windowed hatch and smiled in a slightly worried way, Tony returned the smile with a slight wave. He couldn't smile, he thought that he might be sick if he did. Now they were shut in, he knew it would only be a few minutes until everything started rattling. This wasn't his first time, which was perhaps the only reason he hadn't actually been sick yet. He knew how it went, not that it reassured him at all. 

None of the astronauts said anything as they waited for the radio to burst into life. It was deadly silent. Tony tried to keep his mind off the launch by scanning the controls in front of him, going over their uses and purposes. There were hundreds of identical switches, labelled only by tiny writing. Once they were weightless, Tony knew he could expertly use all of them, if needed to. But as an irritating bead of sweat ran into his eyebrow, his mind was a blank. The only switch he knew was the abort lever, situated within easy reach of his left glove. One tug and that was it, he'd be safely on Earth for the foreseeable future. Well, for aborting a launch, he'd be on Earth forever. No way they'd forgive that.

“Gentlemen, launch commencing in one minute. That's t-minus one minute.”
The voice was horribly crackly across the radio, and didn't have any of the reassurance that CAPCOM always carried. Tony swallowed and concentrated on the sweat caught in his eyebrow, but moments later it was shaken free by a jerk. This was the engines igniting, but Tony didn't like to think about the monstrous tank of fuel he was sitting on. It went quiet again, and then the rattling began.

Of all the horrible things about launch – sickness, nerves, danger, pressure and ridiculous g-forces – Tony's least favourite was the rattling. It was like being in an earthquake, except with no way of moving to protect yourself. Everything shook violently, including Tony's head, and left him convinced that everything was going wrong.

The shaking continued even as the g-force began. Of course, this meant that take-off was proceeding smoothly, but it felt like being kicked up the backside by a giant mechanical boot. Tony noticed the sky moving outside the window and shut his eyes. Motion sickness was not something you wanted to suffer from when sat in a tiny compartment atop a giant rocket.

The forces slowly disappeared at the same time as the light. This meant that they'd broken free of the Earth's gravitational pull, so Tony opened his eyes again. He was weightless, so he pulled the tight straps free and floated forwards a little. His two junior colleagues did the same, following his cue. Whilst they looked out of the window and cooed about the emptiness of space, Tony flipped through some routine checks. 

This was in fact, Tony's third time in space. Both previous times he'd been there as pilot, in the same capacity as he was now. His company were both scientists, doing research. It sounded boring to Tony, but it was deemed crucial by whoever the people in charge of science were. In fact, Tony would probably have turned the job down, but for one important matter. Previously, he'd orbited the Earth and generally grown bored, then landed. This time, however, he was going to do something that no man had ever done before. This time, he was going to stand on the surface of the moon.

There had been countless rehearsals down to the tiniest detail. A news crew even filmed him stepping down onto a cheesy set, then asked him what he'd say when he got there. Of course, it was a secret. He'd got it all planned out, of course. But nobody would know until the live news broadcast to billions on the day, which was now a mere three days away. They were flying to the moon at thousands of miles an hour.

The worst thing about space was how it made practically everything difficult. Eating, drinking, sleeping, going to the toilet. It was just draining every time you had to do something simple and it took half an hour. Tony could input the tiniest course corrections into the computer and take minute angle readings, but eating high energy powder in tiny chunks just exhausted him.

It happened that because of weight restrictions, astronauts weren't allowed to take personal objects into space. Tony had heard that rule hundreds of times, but in reality, you could take anything you could sneak on. Last time he'd taken a drawing that his youngest daughter had done, of their house and car. She was only six, so it was little more than crayons and outlines, but she was the only girl in the class with a drawing that had spent a week in space.

This time though, he'd brought his wallet. Actually, he'd forgotten to bring the family portrait he'd meant to bring. At the last minute, he'd left it in his locker. Once he got to putting on his suit, the only thing he had left was his wallet. Since his colleagues were busy poking boxes full of spiders or plants, Tony leafed through the assorted receipts, change and cash that was in there. Then he went through his cards, taking in every detail of his driving licence. Then he found the very aged photograph that had been in his wallet for years. It was of his wife, about a year before their first daughter was born. He remembered that she hadn't been keen on having it taken without him in it, but he'd managed to talk her into it.

She looked as beautiful as she ever did, Tony thought, turning the photograph over in his fingers. It was only a week until he would see her again, but he felt a long way from her. Missing his wife, of course, was a key reason that he was in space at all. If the worst happened, his family would still be there. 

He replaced the photograph carefully and put his wallet back in his pocket. In all of the time since the launch, he hadn't even thought about the main point of the mission. The entire world knew the real reason he was going to the moon. His name was in every newspaper on the planet. Ever since the strange transmission, and the photographs sent back by the moon rover, everyone knew. Tony wasn't exploring. It was a rescue mission.

The only personal effect that Tony was allowed to bring with him was a small good luck charm. It stayed inside his pocket and strictly never left it, except in emergencies. The charm was a small plastic toy, in the shape of a familiar pink pony. Pinkie Pie was Tony's favourite pony, ever since the My Little Pony phenomenon swept the world and he'd found himself hooked. It was only a cartoon of course, or at least he'd thought that until those pictures were found. A deep blue hoof and a wisp of pale blue mane, embedded slightly in the dusty surface. She'd been inches from the rover, but yet...

Three days passed in boredom for Tony, whilst his scientist friends enthused about their exciting results. Once they were on the final approach, though, Tony was suddenly excited. Minutes separated him from the triumphant return to the moon. He sat in the pilot's seat of the landing craft and looked down at the moon's surface from the window. It was an easy job, like landing on a runway. So he was told, anyway.

He set off, alone, heading for the huge grey satellite. It was a smooth descent and before he knew it, the joystick in his hand was controlling the last few minutes of his fall. All four feet hit the ground simultaneously, then sank a little as they took the weight of the craft. Tony stood up and ensured his space suit was correctly fastened. The door awaited him. He'd landed in her last known location, but she could be anywhere. He had five hours to search, before he would have to leave a message and return home empty handed. 

He took one last look at a photograph of her, to make sure he knew every detail, then turned the handle of the hatch. It opened gently and Tony looked out onto the surface of the moon, with the Earth in the sky behind it. But he didn't even notice its beauty, his eyes were fixed on another. The cameras were rolling, and everyone on Earth was watching.

They could only see him as he stepped carefully down the ladder. His foot gently pressed into the surface, and the world waited for his words of wisdom. But he didn't say anything. Tony, in front of the biggest audience of all time, walked calmly out of shot.

Of course, television directors went crazy. Shouting, pointing, blaming. And yet nobody tuned out. They sat, transfixed, waiting for Tony's voice to crackle out of their television sets, their radios.

A voice did sound, but it was that of CAPCOM.
“Uh, this is Houston... do you read?” Uncertainty reigned in that sentence.

In mission control, there was a hive of activity around one desk in particular. It was known that the camera currently pointing at Tony could be panned using remote control, but they'd lost the controls. The suspense was as thick as custard and hung heavy in the air, making even the most experienced directors hold their breath.
“Got it.” The singular voice said that the camera could now be moved. It shifted painfully, inch by inch, slowly moving to look at where Tony had gone.

First his back came into view, then some beautifully dark blue legs wrapped around him. Nobody dared to think that it could finally be true. The camera continued to pan and into shot came the Princess of the Night, the goal of their rescue mission.
The tension broke like a dam, and around the world relief surged out. Applause broke out everywhere from Paris to Melbourne, resounding through huge crowds as they cheered.

Silence returned in a hurry when Tony spoke. The world hung on his every word.
“Houston, this is the moon.”

“Mission accomplished.”
Wild cheering broke out again as the world stared at a mere human astronaut locked in the ultimate hug of friendship with Princess Luna. 
“Your highness, let's get you home.”