On This Day - an Apollo 11 tribute

[KSK]

There are no videos or Saturn V replicas here I'm afraid but this is my own personal tribute in words to Apollo 11.

The original version was written quite a while ago as chapters in a much larger work, so there are some bits and pieces of background that might not make a lot of sense or, at least raise a couple of questions. Hopefully they won't detract from the main story which was - and still is - unashamedly inspired by the flight that first put men on the Moon. So, without further ado...

 

 

On This Day

A Kerbal Space Program short story

By KSK

Dedicated to the Apollo 11 flight and all the men and women who made it happen

 

Prologue:  Welcome Home

Barkton Mission Control was packed with, and surrounded by, anxious figures listening to the flight updates from the Foxham Space Centre. Geneney sat bolt upright at his console, jaw clenched, hands crushing the armrests of his chair. Jeb paced back and forth behind him.

“Control to Pioneer 3. Come in 3..."

“Control to Pioneer 3. Come in 3..."

“Reading you loud and clear, Control! Standing by for drogues."

Distant cheering crackled over the speaker, together with snatches of voice chatter from the rescue boats. Geneney's grip relaxed a fraction. Come on, come on, come on…

“Recovery 1, Control. We see them! We see the capsule!"

“This is Recovery 2. We got all three chutes! Repeat, three chutes deployed!"

Geneney sagged into his chair, a broad smile lighting up his face as the room around him erupted. Jeb squeezed his friend's shoulder briefly, then turned and walked away, picking his way through the exultant crowds around the consoles. He took a key out of his pocket, unlocked a small door in the corner of the room and slipped through, locking it again behind him.

The old iron steps rang underfoot as Jeb climbed up onto the roof. He walked over to the rail and leaned against it, staring out to sea.

Three flights. Three flights that had tested the mettle of spacecraft, crews, and flight controllers alike - and had not found them wanting.

It was time.

Pioneer 4 was going to the Mün.

 

Part 1:   All Systems Go

Spoiler

A gap appeared in the queue.

The car in front slid across a lane to let the KBS van through, its driver waving cheerfully at the news team as they eased past him. An over-long pennant flopped over the car roof, twitching in the occasional snatch of breeze to reveal the Kerbin Interplanetary Society's tilted rocket logo trailing a longer than usual stream of fire. Passengers leaned out of the back windows, raising cans of sapwood in salute.

Leland lifted a hand in thanks and drove on through the slowly moving carnival of traffic. The KIS logo fluttered from dozens of cars and vans, along with clusters of grey balloons and an eclectic profusion of homemade flags sporting an equally eclectic range of slogans. “Destination: Mün!” seemed to be a popular choice, closely followed by: “Pioneer 4 - All Systems Go!” Leland snorted with laughter at the “Bring us back a Mün Rock, Jeb!” banner rippling from the roof of an ancient electric bus, crammed to bursting with eager kerbals.

By the side of the road, a crowd had gathered around a truck; it’s owner cheerfully dispensing drinks and snacks from atop the trailer. Music blared out from a radio and a hastily scrawled cardboard sign declared the truck to be an unofficial mobile launch party. Inspired by this eminently sensible example, other drivers had followed suit and the number of vehicles crawling along the road to the Space Centre was very nearly matched by the number of vehicles parked on the verge. Sunlight twinkled from hundreds of binocular lenses, all trained on the distant rocket standing alone on its launchpad.

Thudding music drifted through the air, growing steadily louder as the KBS van wound its way towards the Space Centre. The closer they got, the more Leland became convinced that the drummer was making a spirited attempt to murder one of the guitarists with his own instrument, or possibly vice-versa. He glanced over at his passenger, who was tapping his feet and nodding his head in time, a distant look on his face.

"We can let you out here if you like, Don?"

Don shook his head. "Sorry? Oh right, the music." He grinned. "They've picked up a trick or two since Moho 1, haven't they? Nah, if we pull over here, you'll never get to the commentary box before the launch. Definitely going to get some interview footage down by the stage though."

Leland swung the van round a bend and pulled up at a pair of heavy bollards blocking the road ahead. He wound down the window and held out a bundle of press passes for inspection by the serious looking kerbal standing by a booth at the side of the road.

"KBS?"

Leland decided not to point out the large logo on the side of his vehicle, contenting himself with a nod and a scrupulously straight face whilst the guard peered in through the back windows at the rest of the KBS team, comparing faces to photographs and ticking off names on his clipboard.

The guard walked around to the driver's window and handed the bundle of passes back to Leland, who accepted them with a smile. It was not reciprocated. "Please keep to the left, sir, and follow the signs for parking area C. The VIP and Press spaces are in the smaller park to the right as you go in." 

From the corner of his eye, Leland saw Don open his mouth. "Keep to the left and take a right at the entrance to area C," he said hastily. "Thank you very much." He wound up the window and watched the guard walk back to his booth. The bollards sank smoothly into the road and Leland cautiously edged the van forward.

“So, which are we - Press or VIPs?”

Leland sighed, “It doesn’t matter,” he replied, “and I don’t think our friend by the booth was in a mood to joke about it either.”

“No, he didn’t seem the type for small talk,” said Don, He spotted another, equally officious looking, kerbal standing by the junction, waving them through to the left. “Kerm, they’re laying on the security today.”

Leland lifted his hand politely to the second guard. “Not surprising,“ he said, “There’s going to be a lot of disappointed kerbals sent back to Barkton to watch the launch on the big screens, and I’d be at least a bit worried that some of those roadside parties are going to get spirited later on.” He glanced over his shoulder before swinging the van into the car park. ”Now where’s our… ah, right.” 

A large KBS logo was painted on the road inside one of the parking bays. Leland drove over to it and switched off the motor. “Everybody out!”

Don and his camera team began hauling equipment out of the back of the van. Leland pulled a spare headset and a cardboard folder stuffed with notes from the shelf under the dashboard and climbed out too. The kerbal at the Press entrance was no less thorough about checking passes than the roadside guard had been but was considerably more cheerful about it. Leland spotted him surreptitiously tapping his foot in time to the latest drum-and-guitar extravaganza from the entertainment stage, and grinned to himself as Don joined in.

Inside the Space Centre the stands were jam packed, with long queues stretching back from all the many concession booths. The aromas of grilling meats, spicy vegetable and mushroom skewers and hot djan chips filled the air; carried aloft on ragged blue tendrils of smoke from portable barbecues. The music from the stage played on over a din of excited voices and Leland began to feel the familiar launch day flutters in the pit of his stomach.

The field leading down to the stage was almost as crowded as the stands. Kerblets hurtled past, bumping into everyone, clutching model rockets and trailing large grey balloons behind them on long, brightly coloured ribbons. Near to the KBS team, a kermol couple watched their children playing, patiently holding two of the, temporarily forgotten, balloons. Leland studied them for a moment, then burst out laughing at the familiar mottled pattern of dark and light greys and the the prominent flag-of-all-Kerbin, pointing to a spot in the middle of one of the dark grey patches.

“Mün balloons! I like it!” He tapped Don on the shoulder and pointed “Something for your two?”

Don eyed the queues at the Kerlington booth. “If there are any left by the time we’re done.” he grumbled. Then he grinned, “I’ll get one for you too. We can tie them to the van on the way home." 

Leland chuckled. "I'd better get to the commentary box. Make sure you get some decent footage - and try not to spend all your time at the stage."

Don signalled to his camera team, who picked up their equipment. "No promises there!" he said cheerfully. "Enjoy the launch - and try not to lose your voice again."

-------

For a moment, Leland gazed out of the commentary box window, collecting his thoughts, savouring the atmosphere, and taking in the panorama of crowds, futuristic Space Centre buildings and the distant launchpad with its waiting rocket. Then he walked over to the commentary desk, plugged in his headset and, glancing at the single sheet of scribbled notes in his hand, listened to the latest update from Mission Control, occasionally underlining a word or two or jotting down additional points.

"Good afternoon everyone. I am Leland Kerman and this is KBS News, broadcasting live from the Barkton Space Centre. We are just ten minutes into the planned countdown hold at T-minus thirty minutes, with the flight control team waiting for the expected confirmation of the KDS-4 launch. KDS-4 of course, is carrying the Munar lander together with the rocket stage that will boost it, and the Pioneer 4 capsule and service module - or CSM for short - to the Mün. The countdown to the CSM launch is progressing smoothly, with no other holds reported at this time. This is Leland Kerman at the Barkton Space Centre." 

For the next hour, Leland paced up and down the commentary box, listening to the quiet chatter from Mission Control and alternately staring out of the window or relaying such news as he had. Outside, the crowd had quietened, with any kerbal not responsible for kerblets, keeping a watchful eye on the countdown clock. Then, distantly, he heard the long-awaited jangle of a telephone.

"Good afternoon to everyone who's just tuned in. I am Leland Kerman and this is KBS news, reporting live from the Barkton Space Centre, for Pioneer 4's historic Munar landing attempt. We have just received confirmation from the Rockomax Crewed Spaceflight Centre that KDS4 has launched successfully and initial indications are that all vehicle systems are functioning nominally. KDS4 consists of the Kerbin departure stage, from which it takes its name, and the Munar lander. Once on orbit and docked to the capsule and service module, the Kerbin departure stage will boost the completed spacecraft out of Kerbin orbit and onwards to the Mün." Leland paused. "This is Leland Kerman at the Barkton Space Centre."

Down on the entertainment stage, a lone kerbal stepped forward and unplugged his guitar from the mass of equipment at his feet. The sound system popped and sputtered before sounding out a quickly strummed scale.

"Alright, Barkton. This is our last song of the afternoon so we’re gonna take it down a notch and play you something a little different." The singer stared at his feet for a long moment, then looked up at the immense crowd in front of the stage. "As some of you will know, Fire in the Sky have had the great honour and privilege to play at every crewed launch from the Barkton Space Centre since Jebediah Kerman's first journey into space." The singer settled his guitar strap around his neck. "We wrote this next song especially for this flight and we'd like to dedicate it to the space program and everybody who made that happen. This one is called: 'You Never Know.’

A single, pure chord rang out over the crowd, followed by another and then yet another. Shorn of all electronic effects, the sweet, deceptively simple melody sparkled in the air like cut glass before the entranced crowd. It spoke to them of the trackless void between the stars, of being far from home on a winter’s night and of the importance of having a hand to hold in the night. 

The drummer picked up her sticks, laying down a muted but insistent percussion line. The bass player picked up the rhythm, adding subtle overtones to the building music. Then the second guitarist stepped up. 

The melody shifted up a key and suddenly, the lingering melancholy of the opening bars became a banner defying the dark, a symbol of comradeship, and a clarion call to the power of hope over adversity, that called on everyone at the Space Centre to never let go of their dreams.  

----------

"...you never know till you try. Try to walk - ohhhh they're gonna walk. Gonna walk. Gonna walk on the Mün..."

"Thank you Barkton."

Jeb broke the silence. “Well that was…where on Kerbin did they pull that from?"

"No answer here, Pioneer," Geneney replied, "but Bob is asking me to remind you, and I quote, 'I always told you there was more to those guys than three-chord overdrive.' "

"Well that's fine for him to say. He's not sitting here all suited up. Do you have any idea how hard it is to blow your nose in a space helmet, Gene?"

"That's an image I didn't need, Pioneer." Geneney paused. "OK, time to get serious, people. KDS4 is on orbit, all systems online and nominal. We're Go for countdown restart at T-minus thirty minutes."

"Copy that, Flight,' Jeb said briskly. "Malmy is standing by for RCS and SME pressurisation." 

----------

"T-minus six minutes and counting. The pad team is clear and all gantries are at launch stations. Flight Director Geneney Kerman has begun his poll of the flight controllers and we are seeing no further holds as we approach the five-minute mark."

Sitting at his desk, Leland fidgeted with his headset microphone, clicking it back and forth on its pivot as he listened intently to the rapid-fire status reports from the flight control team. 

"T-minus four minutes and counting. The spacecraft is just about to go to internal power and all flight controllers are reporting a Go for launch. From Commander Jebediah Kerman: 'We're looking forward to the flight - tell the band we’ll give it our best try.’”

"T-minus two minutes and counting. The flight team have transferred power to the booster and everything is looking good. Launch Control confirms we have a Go for main engine start.”

Familiar adrenalin pounded through Leland's veins and his voice began to shake in anticipation. "T-minus sixty seconds. Guidance is internal, autosequencer is running."

"T minus forty seconds and counting."

"T-minus thirty. All systems are Go for launch!"

"T-minus twenty seconds…”

"T-minus twelve...eleven...ten...nine...eight... "

Outside in the Space Centre grounds, all eyes turned towards the launchpad. Fingers pressed earplugs firmly into place; parents lifted kerblets onto their shoulders.

"Seven...six...five...four...three..."

Fire blossomed over the launchpad and Leland surged to his feet. "Ignition... and liftoff! Twenty-two minutes past the hour and we have a liftoff on Pioneer 4!" 

The raw sound from the rocket engines hammered against the commentary box windows, making it difficult to think, let alone talk. Down below he could see even the older kerblets racing around in circles, shrieking with excitement. A roiling inferno of smoke billowed out from the launchpad; from its centre, the rocket climbed skywards on a painfully bright spear of light.

"Tower clear! Next stop - Mün!"

Pioneer 4 thundered past the launch tower, the river of fire pouring out of its engines still washing over the launchpad. Leland was dimly aware of somebody shouting "Go! Go! Go!" into his headset but fortunately nobody else seemed to be able to hear it over the noise battering at them. The booster marked twice its own length in flame above the pad and then its own length again, the ragged trailing edge of its exhaust plume finally clearing the tower too. Leland watched the rocket accelerate towards the clouds, the incandescent trail behind it curving out over the Great Tranquil Sea, tearing the sky asunder with furious noise and fire.

Leland pushed his headset back into place. "Pitch and roll program complete," he said hoarsely, "and dear Kerm above, I've watched every launch from here since Moho 1, but let me tell you - you just never get used to the sheer raw power of those machines." 

----------

"Decouplers A through C armed. Go for T20 shutdown and detach."

Aboard Pioneer 4, Jeb struggled to turn his head against the mounting g-forces shoving him into his couch. Squinting out of the corner of his eye, he saw Malmy’s finger pointing at the control panel. Three lights winked out on the instrument panel and he just had time to register three muffled bangs far below him before the sudden drop in acceleration flung him forward against his harness. “Ooof. Flight, Pioneer 4. T20 detach confirmed.”

“Copy, Pioneer. We see them gone.”

For the first time since lift-off, Jeb allowed himself to relax a fraction and for a moment his thoughts turned faintly melancholy. His gaze flickered around the capsule, resting briefly on each of his crew and then returning to the instrument panel in front of them. He snorted at himself in disgust. Jeb - you’re flying to the Mün in a spacecraft in which every last nut, bolt, rivet, bulkhead and circuit board owes its roots to six kerbals working out of the back of a junkyard.

And nobody will ever be able to take that away from us.

Jeb grinned, melancholy forgotten. Above his head, the altimeter raced past thirty thousand metres. 

----------

“We are now just over a minute and a half into the flight. Pioneer 4 is a little over thirty kilometres high, travelling at one point three kilometres per second. Downrange distance from the launchpad is just under twenty-eight kilometres.”

Outside, the crowd silently waited for the, now traditional, affirmation from Mission Control. Leland glanced at the clock, twisting his headset cord between his fingers. Then, right on schedule, the public address system popped to life, Geneney Kerman’s measured tones rolling over the Space Centre.

“Thirty-six kilometres. Pioneer 4 - your trajectory and guidance are Go.”

Leland clenched his fists, the sudden roar from the crowd drowning out any reply from the spacecraft.

Next stop - Mün. And may they have the strength to follow their course.

 

Part 2:   A Voyage for the Ages

Spoiler

On the other side of Kerbin, wherever the skies were clear enough, kerbals braved the chilly evening air in their thousands to send Pioneer 4 on its way. Observatories offered guided tours and a chance to watch the departure through their telescopes. Professional and amateur astronomers alike offered their services to friends, family or, more often than not, impromptu groups of strangers. Some had telescopes of their own, others watched through binoculars. Those that had neither simply stared up at the sky and crossed their fingers.

"Flight, Pioneer 4. Our board is green; requesting telemetry check.”  Jeb’s voice crackled out from countless radio sets.  Gloved fingers twisted dials, trying to tune out the worst of the static. 

“Pioneer 4, Flight. We copy your board is green. Stand by.”

The radios fell silent. The sky-watching crowds milled around anxiously, hands tucked under heavy outdoor ponchos, stamping their feet to work some little warmth back into frozen toes.

“Telemetry confirmed. Pioneer 4, you are Go for TMI.”

"Copy, Flight. Go for TMI. KDS ignition in twelve minutes and counting.”

Older kerbals reached under their clothing to retrieve ornate timepieces from around their necks. Notebooks fell open to well-thumbed pages. Astronomers handed out photocopied star maps, identifying constellations, pointing out where Pioneer 4 was due to appear in the night sky and occasionally taking a map from a confused-looking kerbal, turning it upside down and gently handing it back.

“Pioneer 4, Flight. Booster is Go, starting re-press and ullage sequence.”

“Copy, Flight. Guidance is Go.”

“You’re looking good, Pioneer. Thirty seconds.”

Far away from Mission Control, all eyes turned skywards. Binoculars swung up, hunting for the right stars. Telescope owners made last second adjustments to focus and angles with fingers that trembled even inside their gloves.

“...three…two…one…Ignition!”

A new comet burst into view over Kerbin. 

Awestruck kerbals shook their companions by the shoulder, pointing wordlessly at the sky. One telescope owner reluctantly lifted her head from the eyepiece and stared up at the sky blinking water out of her eyes. A huge smile lit up her face as she watched the glowing trail pointing the way from the last sliver of setting sun out to the starry skies.

“Eight dot two kps. Tank pressures holding steady, guidance is nominal. Clear telemetry links through primary and backup channels."

For several long minutes the crowds watched in wonder, frozen feet all but forgotten. Then, as abruptly as it had appeared, the comet vanished.

"Ten dot two kps. Ten dot... and shutdown! We're running the numbers, Pioneer but that looks like a good burn.” 

----------

In the days that followed, schools across Kerbin sprouted Pioneer 4 posters and activity charts from every classroom wall. Final year students - and their teachers - struggled with equations and proudly marked off distances and velocities. The youngest kerblets, with no less pride, coloured in pictures of Kerbin and the Mün and filled in boxes along stylised flight paths with the days of the week, written in big, careful letters. 

Students of all ages, whether Doreni, Wakiran or Kolan, put the finishing touches on model rockets and Mün landers that ran the gamut from lovingly constructed, glue-smeared assemblies of cardboard boxes, empty bottles and tinfoil, to replica spacecraft that, in the words of veteran kerbonaut Ornie Kerman to one delighted final year engineering class: “you could fill it up with fuel and I’d fly it myself.”

In the fields and Groves, the surest way for a kermol to make him or herself popular was to bring a portable radio along for the day’s work and keep it permanently tuned to KBS Space News. A close-run second way was to bring a spare set of batteries for somebody else’s otherwise defunct radio. Lunchtimes saw groups of kermol gathered together, perched on whatever impromptu seat came to hand and listening to the latest news or broadcast from Pioneer 4. In the evenings, kerbals crammed themselves into packed village halls to watch the evening KBS bulletins.

Near a bleak mountain range bordering Firesvar, Wakira and Kolus, a lone soldier set out across the tundra, carrying a pair of fabric wrapped poles. In full view of the border forces of all three Regionalities, he, or possibly she, laid down their weapons, took thirty-seven measured paces and planted both poles in the ground. Before long, two makeshift banners flapped in the wind, one daubed with the flag of all Kerbin and the other with a tilted rocket streaming fire. A gloved hand retrieved a radio from a field pack and presently Leland Kerman's tinny voice drifted over the tundra. 

In time, the other sides sent out their own volunteers and they too put down their weapons and sat down beneath the flags. More soldiers came to join them and then still more. One squad rigged up a portable field shelter, another produced water bottles, kettles and camp stoves. Rations were shared out and, regardless of origin, commiserated on by all. One sergeant unearthed a bottle of distilled redfruit juice from his pack and neither his squad mates, nor the suddenly much cheerier troops around them, felt inclined to point out the numerous standing orders that he was breaching. Teams were dispatched to fetch additional supplies, tents and, most importantly, extra radios.

Along border after disputed border, soldiers of all Regionalities came together under the twin flags and, for an all too brief handful of days, Kerbin was reunited.

In the towns and cities, enterprising cinema proprietors began running regular ‘Mün Matinees’ for their customers to watch the latest, often shaky, film footage from space. Queues quickly became legendary with especially keen viewers bringing sleeping bags and snacks, the better to wait through the night for the first morning show. Kerbals walking to work in the morning treated the queues with tolerant good humour, some making impromptu coffee runs for waiting friends or family, others booking a quick day off and joining the same queue that evening. 

Even the drive-in cinemas, long the exclusive haunt of young kerman couples, were as likely to be showing starscapes and spacecraft as the latest date-night movie. To the delight of local news outlets everywhere, more than a few young kerman unexpectedly met their future in-laws for the first time at the local outdoor screen, introduced to them by a blushing, stammering partner.

At the Capital building, seven huge screens were hastily erected between its rearmost arches, and semi-circles of temporary bleachers set up in front of them. By the second day of Pioneer 4’s flight, construction workers and the occasional curious tourist were camped out on the bleachers, watching the latest news from space. 

By the end of the third day, the bleachers were full and by the end of the fourth day they were mere islands in a sea of green faces. Those with seats gradually gave them up for the elderly or parents with the youngest kerblets. A handful stayed where they were, unfocused eyes staring unseeing through the crowds. In their mind’s eye, they too were strapped into a capsule, Kerbin behind them, Mün to the fore; living on the very edge of kerballed experience. 

Knowing this well, their friends simply smiled and led them away. 

On the morning of the fifth day, the crowds watched in astonishment as a troop of interns hurried out from a side door and set up a lectern and set of twelve ornate chairs in front of the centre screen. Other discreetly dressed kerbals fanned out through the bleachers, murmuring into radio microphones clipped to their lapels. Then, amidst a sudden hush, the back doors to the Capital building opened and a group of figures emerged. Bowing to the crowds as they went, the Council of Twelve Pillars took their seats and like countless others around the world they sat in silence. 

Watching.

Listening.

Waiting. 

Part 3:   On This Day

Spoiler

Flight Elapsed Time - 4 days, 3 hours, 42 minutes.

Munar orbit.
On board Pioneer 4.

 

“Radar is tracking. You’re looking good from here, Pioneer.”

“Thanks, Malmy,” Jeb replied, “Jondun?”

“Descent orbit initiation and abort phasing burns entered and loaded.”

Malmy cleared his throat. “You two take it easy down there, you hear me? Else I’ll be getting Gene to yell at you.”

“Oh, he’ll be way ahead of you there,” said Jeb. “We’ll be fine, Malmy - see you back here in a few hours.”

"Yeah, well, if I have to come and fetch you, I’ll be yelling at you too. Good luck, guys.”

Jeb turned to his instruments. “Okay, spacecraft alignment is good. Throttle mode zero, SAS in auto. Go for DOI at T-minus sixty.”

Jondun scanned her side of the instrument panel. “Attitude confirmed, guidance is green, descent engine is Go. Standing by for ullage burn.”

A blue light blinked on above the flight computer screen. Jeb took a deep breath. “Proceeding…RCS firing…ignition in three, two, one…and we’re burning!”

Less than a minute later the descent engine shut down again. Jondun promptly punched in a burn status request.  “Looking good, Jeb. Periapsis fifteen dot three kilometres - residuals nulling.”  The lander juddered to a brief burst of computer-controlled thruster fire. “Residuals nulled. Fifteen kilometre periapsis.”

Jeb glanced at his sleeve checklist. “Okay, landmark checks. Time and sighting angle for the Gateway Craters please.”

Jondun turned back to the computer. “One second. You want the numbers for Mount Kelvey and Bill’s Rille too?”

“Yep - might as well get ourselves ahead of the curve.” 

----------

Geneney flipped a pair of toggles on his console, switching his headset to the private flight controller’s loop and patching in the Rockomax crewed spaceflight centre.

“Okay team - this is Gene.” 

He paused. “This is the big one, people. We’ve trained hard for it, we’ve got a great crew up there, a great crew down here and I just want everyone to know that I have total confidence in you all. Total confidence that we’re really gonna do something today.” Geneney unclenched his hands. “So, let’s make it happen.”

The flight controllers sat up a little straighter, adjusting their headsets and rechecking their console settings. In the back rooms, the support teams flipped through flight rulebooks, checked their communication loops and cast the occasional swift glance at the flight clock.

“Flight - Comms.”

“Go ahead, Comms”

“Acquisition of signal for Malmy, Flight. Picking up telemetry.”

“Thank you, Comms. Guidance, CapSys, please review.”

“On it, Flight.”

“Copy that, Flight.”

Geneney toggled his microphone. “Malmy, Flight. Standing by for acquisition on Pioneer. Do you have a status?”

“They’re just catching up, Flight. No hitches on descent orbit initiation, crossing all landmarks on schedule - they’ve been sounding pretty chipper on the way down to the Mün there!”

“Cool, calm and collected, Flight,” added Jeb cheerfully. “How’s that telemetry looking?”

Despite himself, Geneney grinned. “We’re working it, Jeb. Stand by.” He clicked his headset back to the flight control loop. “All consoles, give me a Go / NoGo please. FD?”

“FD is Go, Flight.”

“Lander?”

“One moment, Flight.”

“Copy, Lander. Control?”

“We’re Go, Flight!”

“Comms?”

“Go, Flight!”

“Thank you, Comms. You ready for me, Lander?”

“Lander is Go, Flight.”

Geneney took a deep breath. “Pioneer, Flight. You are Go for Powered Descent.”

Jeb couldn’t quite keep the excitement out of his voice. “Copy that, Flight! Alignment check?”

“Alignment is Go, Pioneer. Ignition in two minutes on my mark... Mark.”

Jondun’s eyes flicked from the flight computer display to the engine readouts and back again. Jeb stared at the computer screen too, finger hovering over the Proceed button. Then the blue light came on. “Flight, Pioneer. Proceeding at sixty seconds. Descent engine armed.” He scanned the navball and rate indicators, one hand poised by the attitude hand-controller, the other by the manual ignition button. Beside him, Jondun checked the engine readouts one final time then fixed her gaze on the flight clock. Both kerbonauts felt the sudden burst from the maneuvering thrusters.

“Ullage burn and three…two…one…Ignition!”

The engine rumbled into life, then throttled up to full power. Jondun’s hands raced over the controls. “Flight, Pioneer. Descent engine Go, throttle is in Auto-one. Rendezvous radar to standby, landing radar to auto.” 

----------

Braking on a plume of fire, Pioneer 4 fell towards the Mün, maneuvering thrusters spitting bursts of flame to keep it on course. Thirteen kilometres above the surface, the little spacecraft rolled upright, the crew’s view of grey craters replaced by black skies and the blue marble of Kerbin. Suddenly a high-pitched warble filled the cabin, accompanied by a glowing red warning light on the instrument panel.

Jondun slapped the cut-off button. “Master alarm. Flight - we have negative power-up on the landing radar. Repeat, no power to landing radar.”

The response from Mission Control was almost instant. “Copy, Pioneer. Go to manual and cycle your breaker.”

Jondun switched off the radar, pulled out the circuit breaker toggle and pushed it back into place, before flipping the radar switch back to its on position. Instantly, the master alarm warbled loudly in their ears. Jeb shot her a concerned look as she hit the cut-off button again.

“Not happening, Flight. What else have you got?”

“Four minutes to pitch-over,” said Jeb urgently. “Gonna need a working radar before then, Flight.”

“Working it, Pioneer. Stand by.”

Jondun stared at the circuit breaker panel, mind racing frantically through schematics and onboard systems. The air to ground loop remained unnervingly quiet. Jeb gripped the edge of the instrument panel. “We really need a call on that radar, Flight!”

Jondun’s head snapped up. “Flight - the breakers for both radar systems have the same rating, right?”

“One second, Pioneer.” Geneney paused. “That’s affirmative. Recommend you…”

“Swap out the breakers for the two radar systems and use CSM radar as a backup for the rendezvous?”

“Do it.”

Jondun leaned forward and pushed the circuit breaker toggle into the panel. Using it as a handle, she twisted its mounting unit a half turn clockwise and lifted the whole unit clear. Swiftly, she slotted the replacement into place, twisted and pushed…

The warning light blinked off; the computer display flickering for a second as data flooded in from the landing radar. Jondun stowed the broken circuit breaker and hastily tapped out a command. “Flight, Pioneer. We’ve got a delta-H… and woahhh, Throttling down!”

Pioneer 4 tipped forward, balancing delicately on the thrust from its descent engine. Inside the crew cabin, Jeb watched the Munar surface slide back into view. 

“Sighting angle for the landing point please, Jondun.”

“Forty degrees, Jeb. One thousand metres.”

Jeb cursed under his breath. “That’s about what I thought.” He keyed his microphone. “Flight, Pioneer. Debris at the landing site - I’m going long.” He took hold of the attitude controller and eased it back, pitching his spacecraft upright. “Gonna slow my rate of descent…”

“Got it, Jeb. Seven hundred fifty metres, down ten dot five, horizontal velocity off-scale.” 

----------

“Two hundred fifty metres, down seven.”

Mission Control was utterly silent apart from Jondun’s running reports echoing from the main speakers. 

“Two hundred metres, down six. Slow us up, Jeb.”

Geneney’s stomach tightened. “Lander, Flight. Fuel status?”

“Four minutes, Flight.”

“One hundred fifty metres. Down four, forward twenty.”

Geneney stared grimly at his console. I got you out there, Jeb. Up to you now - nothing more I can do from here. He clicked his microphone. “All consoles - aborts and fuel only.”

“One hundred metres. Down one dot five. Forward twenty.” 

---------- 

“Okay, cleared the rocks. Slowing us up.” Jeb tipped Pioneer 4 sharply back and throttled up the engine. Jondun’s eyes were locked on the computer display. “Seventy metres. Down one, forward five. Fifty metres. Down point seven, forward three.”

“Three minutes, Pioneer,”

Neither kerbonaut had time to reply. Jeb worked the attitude controller, canting Pioneer 4 this way then that, letting the thrust from the engine slow them to a near-hover.

“Forty metres, down one, forward one. Watch that lateral drift.”

“Twenty-five metres. Down point five. Looking good. Fifteen metres. Ten metres…contact!”

Jeb’s hand slapped down on the engine stop button. For a second, Pioneer 4 dropped away from underneath him and then came to rest with a thud. The two kerbonauts waited tensely for a moment then, satisfied that they weren’t about to tip over, flashed each other a quick, triumphant grin before starting the post-landing checklist.

“Abort stage override to auto. Descent engine arm off. ATO is in.” Jeb paused to savour his next words:

“Flight, this is Pioneer. We are on the Mün. Repeat, we’re on the Mün.”

For a moment, they couldn’t hear anything over the noise from Mission Control. Then Geneney’s shaking voice came on the air.

“Copy that, Pioneer - we see you down. Fine flying you both - fine flying.” 

----------

In the KBS studio, Leland lifted his head out of his hands and blinked at the cameras. He mopped his brow with a sodden handkerchief and summoned up a wan smile before visibly pulling himself together. 

“The flight control teams will be working with the crew right now to check over the lander systems. The flight computer is already primed for an abort to orbit, or ATO, ready to get both kerbonauts off the Mün immediately if there are any problems with their spacecraft.” Leland suddenly tapped his headset, a huge smile spreading across his face. “And there we have it! Flight director Geneney Kerman has just given the crew a Go for the extended stay and surface EVA! They have quite a lot to do before then, so we’re going to take a break before bringing you the latest updates from the Barkton Space Centre and the Rockomax Crewed Spaceflight Centre. Then - and I can’t believe I’m saying this - in a little over four hours time we’ll be going live to the Mün.” 

----------

On a hundred thousand television screens across Kerbin, white noise and static abruptly gave way to an alien landscape of sharp-edged craters, stark grey plains and a midnight sky. The view shifted, the unseen camera panning past an expanse of crinkled metal foil, before focusing on the foot of a spindly ladder and behind it, the end of a jointed metal leg.

“Mission Control confirms - both kerbonauts are suited up and the hatch is open.” Leland’s voice rang with barely suppressed excitement. “Commander Jebediah Kerman is on his hands and knees…backing out of the hatchway…and he’s on the ladder!”

An orange and grey boot came into sight, followed by a heavily padded spacesuit leg and then the corner of a bulky backpack. Millions of watching kerbals caught their first glimpse of an orange, fabric-clad shoulder and then finally the reflective visor of a spacesuit helmet. Holding firmly on to the ladder rungs, the suited figure paused for a long minute, then took a step back.

Jeb took another cautious step, letting the ground beneath his feet take his full weight before letting go of the ladder and walking out onto the Munar surface.

“And there it is! Jebediah Kerman takes his first steps onto the Mün! We appear to have lost the sound - hopefully that’s just a temporary fault with our transmitter and not a problem with any of the spacecraft equipment.”

Jeb turned to face the lander hatch, head unseen inside his mirrored helmet. The camera tilted up to follow Jondun’s white and grey figure as she too climbed down the ladder and stepped out onto the Mün. She paused for a moment and then bounded away from the lander, camera tracking her as she went. 

“And kerbonaut Jondun Kerman joins her commander. We still have no sound at this time but clearly that is not a problem at Mission Control and is not affecting this historic moment.”

Jeb retrieved a thin aluminium tube from one of the ladder rails before walking over to join Jondun. Before the puzzled eyes of the world, both kerbonauts turned their backs to the camera…

“Oh my. Would you look at that. Would you just look at that?” Leland’s voice caught in his throat. On the screen in front of him, two mirrored helmets faced one another across a landscape of grey. An orange glove clasped a white glove. And between them, in the background, the flag of all Kerbin flew proudly above the Munar plains. 

The orange suited figure turned towards the camera:

“On this day we - voyagers from the planet Kerbin… first set foot upon the Mün. We came in peace for Kerm and kerbal.”

 

Part 4:   Walking into History

Spoiler

Kerbals were walking on the Mün - and the world walked with them.

All across Kerbin, people thronged around their television screens, smiling, cheering and blinking through teary eyes at the sight of two of their own taking their first clumsy steps on a new world. They watched in wonder as clumsy steps became tentative two-footed jumps, the two kerbonauts struggling to find their balance in the stiff confines of their spacesuits. They watched in awe and then delight as tentative jumps turned into increasingly confident rolling lopes; two figures bounding foot to foot across the Munar plains. They laughed aloud at the orange-suited figure’s exuberant leap, soaring high and then floating, unnaturally slowly, down to the ground.

For nearly an hour, Jeb and Jondun held an enthralled world in the palms of their gloved hands. Their high-technology suits, the harsh, ethereal beauty of the landscape around them and the disconcerting nearness of the horizon, all served as potent reminders of exactly where they were. In turn, that knowledge added weight to their every least action: walking, talking, climbing back up the lander ladder to retrieve equipment boxes, taking photographs or just simply standing next to the flag for a moment to catch their breath. 

----------

Jeb opened the largest equipment box and carefully unpacked a pair of delicate looking instruments and two spools of cable. He plugged one cable into a socket on the descent stage and carefully unrolled it over the ground, propping it up on a pair of small clips to keep it clear of surface dust. The camera zoomed in to watch him work, treating everyone to a view of two wooden clothes pegs, of the kind to be found on washing lines all over Kerbin, resting in the Munar dust.

Jeb bounced back to the lander, retrieved his instruments and, stepping slowly and carefully, made his way back to the end of the cables. He plugged in the larger, boxier instrument, laid it carefully on the regolith and pressed a button on its lid. Two photovoltaic panels popped free from its sides, there was a brief pause and then a green light glowed brightly from one corner. The second cable fitted into a socket near the opposite corner connecting the box to what appeared to be a bundle of rods, wrapped in gold foil at one end. 

At the touch of a button the rods sprang open, unfolding into a gold foil umbrella mounted on a tripod. Jeb planted it firmly into the dust, bending over to inspect a panel attached to one of its legs. He straightened up, gave a thumbs up to the watching camera and loped away out of view. The camera panned right, zooming in on Jondun whilst the voiceover from KBS News busily explained that the boxy instrument was the first in a planned network of Munar seismometers for subsurface mapping, and that the golden umbrella was a combined radiation counter, thermometer and starwind analyser. A different voice commented that the risk was low for Pioneer 4 but that the radiation data would be invaluable for planning longer stays on the Mün or even permanent bases.

Meanwhile, the camera zoomed in on Jondun, who was picking up a small chunk of rock with a pair of tongs and placing it in a plastic bag. She closed the bag and pressed one end against a fabric patch on her upper arm, where it joined the two other bags already fastened in place. Methodically, she worked her way around the landing site collecting samples as she went. From here, a scoop of dust and rock fragments; from there, a trowel load of smaller pebbles; from elsewhere a single, larger rock.

And then, all too soon, it was over. First Jondun and then Jeb climbed up the ladder and disappeared into the lander cabin, closing the hatch behind them. Very few of the millions of listening kerbals could make sense of the jargon-dense preparations for lift off but the import of the final four items on the countdown were clear to all.

“Ascent engine armed…abort stage…ignition… and lift-off!”

“Flight, Pioneer. We’re coming home.”

----------

Thousands waited anxiously by the shore, watching for a glimpse of orange parachute although, in their heart of hearts, they knew there would be nothing to see. Thousands more watched the recovery ship’s triumphant return to port, scorched reentry capsule lashed to its deck. They lined the streets, a clamorous, worshipful multitude jostling for a view of the three Mün voyagers. Three of their own, two of them born and raised in nearby Groves, ordinary kerbals-in-the-street to look at – but only to look at. 

Three kerbonauts, hair still damp and smelling faintly of disinfectant, waved at the crowds through their car windows. Although the very idea had been roundly dismissed by most reputable scholars, the persistent fears of something living on the Mün and being brought back to Kerbin had proved hard to dispel. As a result, after a slow tour of the busiest streets, Jeb, Jondun and Malmy were whisked away to the Barkton medical centre for a week under observation, the medical centre staff keeping a close eye on the crowds of well-wishers waiting outside. Amusement turned to surprise which segued into disbelief followed by exasperation as the days dragged on, but eventually the few still remaining were rewarded for their patience. The KIS car drove away leaving behind a group of excited fans clutching signed posters and other crowning additions to their collections of space memorabilia. 

By the time the car pulled up at the Space Centre, Kerbol was setting behind the Vehicle Assembly Building, casting long shadows over the stands and smaller buildings. Geneney unlocked the museum doors and waved the three kerbonauts inside. He flipped the lights on and stood quietly to one side, letting them take in the refurbished exhibits in their own time.

Jeb’s eyes flicked over the first exhibit with its familiar Kerbal and Moho capsules on their stands. Behind them, sets of photographs gleamed in new frames: Bill’s original snaps of Kerbin from thirty-five kilometres, taken from  Kerbal 1, Geneney, Wernher and Lucan riding out to the launchpad and the waiting Kerbal 2, photographs of half-built capsules and ascending Moho boosters. He smiled faintly at the large ‘First Steps into the Unknown’ signboard suspended overhead before turning his attention to the second exhibit: ‘Working Together in Space.’

There, the Eve 1 capsule sat side by side with their borrowed Rockomax docking adaptor, still mounted on its mysteriously acquired dolly and facing an engineering mockup of the Eve docking ring on its stand. Photographs of the Eve 1 and Next Step spacecraft joined nose-to-nose in orbit adorned the wall behind them, together with pictures of their crews floating together inside. Spacesuits and other pieces of equipment stood mounted in tall, glass fronted cabinets.

Despite himself, Jeb’s chest swelled with pride at the third exhibit: ‘To the Mün and Back’. Above the first of three large display boards, a plainly printed banner simply read: ‘We, voyagers from the planet Kerbin…’ Below it, pictures of the Munar far side taken from the Muna 2 probe sat side by side with pictures of Kerbin framed in Pioneer 1’s rendezvous window, and the first pictures of Kerbin rising over the Mün. Next to them, Pioneer 2 floated high above the Great Tranquil Sea and Barrie stood atop Pioneer 3’s service module, circling the Mün with Seanan’s signpost clutched across her chest. 

The second display board labelled: ‘First set foot upon the Mün…’ showed pictures of himself and Jondun working on the Munar surface arranged around a huge blown-up photograph of the two of them shaking hands in front of the flag of all Kerbin. Then Jeb turned to the third board and a shiver ran down his back. Labelled: ’We came in peace for Kerm and Kerbal’, it didn’t have any pictures of space or spacecraft. Instead it was full of kerbals.

Kerbals packed into village halls. Winding queues of kerbals waiting patiently outside cinemas. A great ocean of green figures surrounding the Capital building and its seven huge screens. The Council of Twelve Pillars themselves, seated in front of one of the screens, watching two space-suited figures walking against a backdrop of grey. And one blurry, pixellated photograph of a group of uniformed figures sitting beneath a pair of flags.

“We got that one in the post.”  Jeb jumped, head snapping round to see a sombre Geneney standing beside him. “Sent anonymously but with a letter inside. Those are Wakiran, Kolan and even Firesvarn soldiers, Jeb. All sitting together waiting for you to come around the Mün after MOI.” Geneney swallowed hard. “We came in peace for Kerm and Kerbal. I don’t where you pulled that from, old friend but it was nothing but the plain truth that day.”

 

 

Edited July 16, 2019 by KSK

[CatastrophicFailure]

First. 

This is a pleasant jaunt down memory lane in more ways than one. 

And for any new folks to the Fan Works section, I’ll say, if you like this, you’ll love First Flight. 

[fulgur]

So this is part of the First Flight Canon? Or is it separate?

[KSK]

It’s all lifted from the main story so it’s definitely canon (First Flight canon that is). It’s just a mashup of about four chapters and I’ve taken the opportunity to do a quick editing pass at the same time.  

I left out all the journey home stuff because that’s mostly main plot stuff that wouldn’t make much sense as part of a stand-alone story. Also spoilers.

Thanks, @fulgur , @Jebediah Kerman Jr. and @CatastrophicFailure for the likes!

Edited July 17, 2019 by KSK

[KerballingSmasher]

Wow! @KSK you've done it again! I'm blown away, mate!

[KSK]

Heya,

Thanks - and I’m glad it still works!

 Just been listening to the real-time plus 50 webcast of the real landing. 

“Tranquility Base here - the Eagle has landed”.

Darn pollen - making my eyes water.