Cocoa Beach, Florida was feeling more like home each day. Throughout the summer I had surfed at least a few times each week and I had made my mark with the local surfers that hung out around the pier at the end of Meade Avenue waiting for that perfect set of waves. Late August was turning out to be a special season in my life. I wasn’t the best of the local surfers, but I was certainly the oldest. I wore my age of fifty four on my sleeve, and I was the first to let the young kids know I was old enough to be their grandfather. I think this endeared me to most of the locals. I felt welcomed whenever I came down to the beach to hang out and surf.
I still had an intense interest in the current operations at NASA, and I kept in contact with my old supervisor Wally Hunt on a weekly basis. Wally was like my Dad. He had been at NASA I guess going on forty years. I knew he planned to retire in the next couple of years, but he stayed on despite his age. He must be about seventy years old I thought, but there was not a sharper mind on the Cape. Wally had seen the Mercury, Gemini, Apollo, and Shuttle programs all come through NASA while serving in one position or another. He was now in charge of the Constellation program. The Constellation program came about to replace the space shuttle which was due for decommissioning later in the year. The Constellation program was the most aggressive undertaking NASA had ever attempted. That is exactly why I had a keen interest in the Cape. I wished silently that I was still with NASA as I walked back from the beach to my condominium. There was nothing keeping me here except the beach. No family, no significant other. There was someone once, but she had her own life in the space program, and I didn’t want to stand in her way and ask her to give up her dreams. I would admire her from afar I thought. After all I still had her name inked on my chest. So in a way, I carried her with me wherever I went….in a very personal way I thought to myself. Arriving back at the condo I gave Wally a call and arranged to meet with him for a quick lunch the following day. “Hello Wally, it’s Papa. Let’s do lunch tomorrow at the NASA cafeteria. Maybe you can fill me in on the Constellation program. I would love to hear about the new Orion capsule. I might even catch a glimpse of you know who and let her know how I have been.” I could hear frustration in Wally’s voice as he replied, “Sure Papa, let’s do lunch. See you about noon. I’ll fill you in on the current news here."
The following day, I drove in to the Cape. I passed by the smart salute of the gate guard who recognized me from when I worked at NASA. I greeted Wally at the employee’s cafeteria. That’s when he let me in on some privileged information. “Papa, the Constellation program is on line. We are going to go with an early morning launch from a single booster Ares 1 rocket in four weeks. The President of the United States put this mission at the top of his priority. The Senate has funded the program in secret due to the sensitive nature of the program’s mission. The Orion capsule that we will be sending into space will be commanded by one astronaut, Major Bud Knight. It’s a four year mission Papa. A mission to Jupiter and back….did you hear me Papa? Papa, I said JUPITER!” It’s a mission to map the planet's magnetic fields, measure the amount of water and ammonia in the Jovian atmosphere and observe the auroras. Papa, I know you still have your Top Secret clearance, so grab your sandwich and follow me to my office will you?” My mind went numb, and I was speechless for almost a minute until I comprehended the entirety of what Wally said. “Jupiter? Wally, we haven’t even been to Mars! For God’s sake Wally, who in their right mind would be willing to give up four years of their life to go to Jupiter?” Then just as soon as I had asked the question, the answer came to me…..I would. I would be willing to go! Yes, I mean what is holding me here? I have no one to come home to. “Send me Wally! Don’t you see? I would be perfect for the mission. I know all there is to know about mapping magnetic fields, measuring atmospheric gases. Wally you have to let me be a standby. Please!” Arriving at Wally’s office, he closed the door and then proceeded to tell me exactly why Jupiter was on the President’s list of top priorities. “Papa, I don’t have to tell you the devastation that the Shoemaker-Levy 9 comet left on the surface of Jupiter. If the same thing happened to our planet, we wouldn’t be sitting here talking of space travel I can assure you that. The Hubble telescope has picked up a comet travelling along a path in the outer edges of our galaxy, and if our guys in operations are correct with their math, there is a ninety three percent chance that earth will suffer the same consequences as Jupiter in the fall of 2045. You do remember what happened to Jupiter’s southern hemisphere don’t you Papa? I don’t have to remind you that a three kilometer fragment of the Levy comet impacted with the force of six hundred million tons of TNT. That was enough to send a plume of space debris three thousand kilometers into the Jovian atmosphere. That was just one of the hundreds of the fragments that struck Jupiter that day. It would mean the end of earth as we know it Papa. That’s why we are pushing ahead with our launch to Jupiter. There is not a minute to waste. We need to know everything we can about the impact, the gases that persist in the Jovian atmosphere, everything.” “Wally, I want to go, please….put me on standby.” “Papa, I do owe you that much for what you did for NASA with the recent rescue of Sam on her ill begotten mission to Mars. I’ll let you know what the council decides after our meeting this afternoon. Don’t hold your breathe Papa, although I hear you are pretty good at it.” “Very funny Wally. Get back to me as soon as you hear anything. You know my cell.” On my drive back to Cocoa Beach I felt sick at my stomach knowing that there was a good chance all life on earth would end in approximately 36 years. I got home and opened up a bottle of Tequila I had been saving for a special occasion. I drank half of the bottle and went to bed.
At approximately 0630 the following morning I was awakened by my cell phone. I was too hung over to answer and I allowed it to take a message. At 0800 I awoke and saw the missed call was from Wally at the Cape. The message said, “Papa, get down to the Cape as fast as you can. Major Knight has broken his ankle in a fall. You are going to Jupiter my friend.” I put on my best pair of old jeans, jumped into my car and sped to the Cape. I flew by the smart salute of the gate guard and headed straight to Bldg. 1 where Wally and his team were waiting for my arrival. I felt like an old warrior being recalled to active duty. This was my calling.
“Let’s get busy, Wally said. First, an orientation of the command module Orion. That should take a couple of days, then the orientation to the Ares 1 booster, and then the orientation to the upper and lower stages of the command modules J2X engine. That’s the engine you will depend upon to put you into an orbit around Jupiter, and then put you in a trajectory for your return back to Earth. One more thing I haven’t mentioned Papa. If anything goes wrong during your mission, you have the option of placing yourself in cryogenic suspension. Now at this time, there is no way for science to bring you back if you choose this option, but maybe in the future, well….we don’t know.” “Wally, let’s get busy. I have a lot of catching up to do. This is definitely not the Lapin Blanc I’m dealing with.”
The following few weeks went by quickly. I spent every available second of my day learning the intricacies of the Orion and the Constellation Program. The operation finally had a name. It was Deep Space Juno. I had already gone deeper than any man with my recent dive to Challenger Deep on board the Alvin-2. Now I would go farther than any man had gone. I felt like an Olympian, ‘Citius, Altius, Fortius’…I thought well at least I have kept my sense of humor about it all. I felt good about the launch and my knowledge to accomplish the mission that was set before me. The only regret I had was leaving Sam. If only I could see her one more time before I left the grip of earth’s hold tomorrow. It was time to get some rest and I headed back to my quarters at the pre-launch barracks; a place that I had called home for the past few weeks.
I awoke at 0400 and was transported to the pre-flight holding area. I was fitted into my space suit. Wally entered the room before my helmet was secured onto the suit and offered me a double shot of tequila. Downing the tequila in a single swallow, I thought this would be the last taste of my favorite nectar for the next four years. I didn’t know what my future held. My condo sold, all my belongings were placed in government storage. I hoped someday to be back and claim my life once again, but for now it was all about Jupiter. “Let’s get this helmet on gentlemen”, I said. With those simple words, I was enclosed into the suit, my life, my destiny. A three mile transport out to the launch pad and I was taken up by elevator to the crew module and strapped in. The hatch closed and locked from the outside. Radio communications opened to the control center, and I heard the countdown commence. “T minus one minute and counting, all systems are go for launch of Operation Deep Space Juno.” My thoughts turned to Sam as I heard the deliberate countdown continue. “Four, three, two, one….we have ignition. We have liftoff of the Orion module with Commander Papa K. Pennebaker, commanding. God’s speed Commander. We’ll see you back in 2013.” The strong and unfamiliar push of the Ares I rocket engine gave me a full seven G’s of force pushing me hard back into the seat of the Orion capsule. The heads up display quickly went from sky blue to the dark black of space, and then the stars appeared as bright as I ever remembered. I was back in the saddle. It would be a full two years until I reached my destination of Jupiter’s southern hemisphere.
Hours became days, days became weeks, then months, then the anniversary of the launch arrived. I celebrated with a squeeze tube of American cheddar and something we called a ‘space wafer’ at NASA. Not bad food I thought especially since I’m two hundred million miles from the nearest McDonald’s. I thought this might be a great time to start singing ninety nine bottles of beer on the wall, but then reality set in and I knew I had real work to do. I would play the alliteration game. OK, how many words can I come up with? This was a favorite between Sam and me when we used to get together for dinner. I had come up with a winner once. It went like this: Argentineans asphyxiate alcoholics around August and agitate Alaska, although apathetic Americans allow aggressive Argentinean attacks against Albania Alcoholics Anonymous agents attempt assaults against Argentina; amusing assholes, apparently! Alabaster ain’t allowed around Argentina anymore. The boredom overcame me daily. The highlight of my day was being awakened by the sound of mission control playing a goofy song; then again each evening I would get another. As I readied for sleep this anniversary night anticipating my song I got quite a surprise. “Commander Papa….Papa can you hear me, over?” It was Sam. I had not heard her speak since the summer of 2009. “Yes, yes….I hear you Lieutenant Sam. It’s great to hear your voice, over.” “That’s Lieutenant Commander Sam to you Commander, over.” “Congratulations Lieutenant Commander. I am very proud of you and your accomplishments. Did you have a big party, over?” “No Papa, my husband and I just stayed at home and had a glass of wine and nice dinner, over.” Husband? I didn’t know she married. I had no idea she was in a relationship. I was crushed, but knew it was my fault for not allowing her to know my true feelings for her. “That’s wonderful, I said. Hey maybe we can get together, all of us when I get back and do lunch…uh…over.” “Papa, that would be great…are you OK, over?” "Oh yeah, yeah, I’m just great, couldn’t be better. Hey I should go. You know…gotta get my sleep…busy day tomorrow, over.” “Roger that Commander, I’ll see you when you return, over.” With that the communication ended and I drifted off into a lonely restless sleep. I awoke the following day knowing for certain I had nothing to come back home to. I would risk completing the task of surveying Jupiter and it’s atmosphere with daring abandon. As long as my data was transmitted back to earth, I really didn’t care if I made it back home. This would be my final mission, I was certain of that.
One year turned into eighteen months, then twenty, then finally Jupiter loomed large in the heads up display. Two full years had passed since I launched at the Cape. I was ready to get down to work. This is why I had become an astronaut, what I had trained all my life to do. “Mission control, I am approaching the gravitational pull of Jupiter, firing retrograde J2X engine to facilitate merge into Jovian orbit.” “Roger that Commander Pennebaker, fire J2X upon mark…three two, one, mark.” “Roger mission control, firing J2X." As I flipped the switch to slow the Orion by retro engagement, nothing happened. Again, I flipped the control switch to engage the J2X retro rocket, and again nothing happened. “Mission control, I have a negative engagement on the J2X, be advised that I cannot control the rocket from Orion control. Please remotely attempt to engage, over.”
“Commander Pennebaker, this is mission control. The Orion does not have this fail-safe option built in to it’s system. You will have to engage the engine from your end.” “Get me Wally Hunt now. Do you hear me? I want Wally Hunt now!” Less than one minute later I had Wally on the other end of my communication channel.. Four hundred million miles separated me and the Cape. I had never felt farther away from home in my life.
Wally came on the line, “Papa, it’s Wally. You’ll need to do what you can from the Orion module. There wasn’t enough time to build a remote fail-safe ignition system into the Constellation program. We put a rush on this one I’m afraid to say. The President wanted this launch as soon as possible. The command remote ignition was an oversight.. I’m so sorry.” “Wally, what am I going to do? I’m passing Jupiter as we speak. If I don’t slow down into Jupiter’s orbit I’ll continue out into deep space and end up dying of old age inside this craft. Wally, what am I going to do?” “Papa, I know you will do what you have to do. You have been in dangerous situations before and have always found a way out. Papa, if all else fails, you know you have the cryogenic suspension system on board. I’m not telling you to use it, but if you find yourself in a no win situation, you know it’s available.” "Wally, I understand. I’ll keep in contact with you via mission control, but before I sign off, what is the date?" “It’s November 23rd, 2011. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, Papa. We’ll say a prayer for you.” "Thanks Wally. Send Sam my love. This is Commander Papa K. Pennebaker..out."
The following six months passed by slowly as I continued on a trip far past my intended target. I was now approaching the outer edges of Earth’s solar system. What lay beyond was only seen by the Hubble Space Telescope. Mapping of this zone had not even begun, and I knew that once I entered there would be no rescue. I had decided that if rescue had not come by the six month mark, I would put myself into cryo-suspension. I had gone to a class back at the Cape in preparation of the liftoff to Jupiter and had learned the basics of cryo-suspension. I had to wear a special undergarment, then slip into a special gold foil suit and cover my eyes with a special darkened lens. Oh, and no metal could be touching my skin. No rings, necklaces, etc. All this in hopes of a deep space rescue one day, and by that time cryo-resusitation and neural preservation might be a reality.
I gave it all another month, and then with no hesitation, I prepared the cryo module to accept my body for the remainder of time. My best guess was that I would go to sleep and never awaken. At this point in my life it almost sounded good. I disrobed from the routine module garment that I wore on a typical day, and slipped into the special suit I would wear until I was found. I almost forgot to remove the crucifix I wore around my neck in honor of my guardian angel, Natividad. Where was she when I needed her the most I thought? Maybe she was angry at me for not telling her granddaughter how I truly felt about her. Maybe she was angry at me because I was a Buddhist. Whatever the reason, it seemed I would not be rescued by her this time. Maybe it was finally my time, and I would meet with her on the other side. That’s it, I thought. It must be my time. I removed the crucifix from around my neck and tossed it into the module cabin. I figured I would never need it again. I lay down in the cryo module, flipped the switch to turn on the system, and went to sleep.
Star Date 2032. USS Regal Empress patrolling the outer quadrant of the Pegasus constellation, near the position of star Pegrasi-51. “Captain, you are wanted on the bridge. We are picking up a distinct rhythmic pulse coming from the orbit of Pegrasi-51.” “This is the Captain, I’ll be right up.” Within minutes, Captain John Kelly was on the bridge discussing the rhythmic signal with the watch officer. “Skipper, we have been picking up this audio signal for the past 20 minutes. I don’t know what to make of it. It’s probably nothing, but I would suggest a closer look.” “Good work Ensign Parker, takes us in closer and let’s see if the signal changes, and if we can get a visual on its origin.” “Aye-Aye, Sir. Navigation, thirty degrees port, half speed, quarterdeck up visual display." Within five minutes Captain Kelly knew exactly what the origin of the rhythmic ping was. “Come to dead speed. Maintain visual on craft”, came the orders from Captain Kelly. “Ensign Parker, hail NASA on secure clearance and put it through to my cabin.” “Aye-Aye Sir.” When the Captain reached his wardroom he had a shocking surprise for NASA. “This is Captain Kelly, Commanding Officer of the USS Regal Empress. Let me speak with whoever is in charge at NASA.” “This is Gus Crawford at NASA, you are speaking to him. What can we do for you Captain?” “Mr. Crawford, we have located the lost Orion capsule in the Pegasus constellation. It is intact, and emitting an audio signal. What do you want us to do with your spacecraft?” “Mother of God, Captain Kelly! It can’t be! That craft was lost on the initial Jupiter expedition in 2011. That was twenty one years ago.” “I know my history Mr. Crawford; I’m a graduate of the Naval Academy. The Constellation program and Commander Pennebaker are common names at Annapolis. Matter of fact, Commander Pennebaker was my instructor back in 2007 when I graduated from the Astronaut program. I both respected and admired him. Again Mr. Crawford, what do you want us to do with the craft?” “Bring it aboard Captain, and keep me posted on what you find.” Roger that Mr. Crawford, roger that.” Captain Kelly returned to the bridge with a sense of new found dedication. He would be the one to bring Papa home, albeit dead.
“Ensign Parker, put me on hailing frequency. USS Orion, this is the galactic warship USS Regal Empress, we are here to take you home. USS Orion, this is the galactic warship USS Regal Empress, we are here to take you home. Prepare to be transported aboard. Ensign open the cargo bay, engage tractor beams and bring aboard the USS Orion and Commander Pennebaker’s body.” “Aye-Aye Captain, tractor beams engaged.”
As the Orion was slowly pulled into the cargo hold of the Regal Empress the crew could make out hundreds of tiny pits in the metal of the Orion module. Years of micro space debris, years of subjection to damaging solar radiation had taken a toll on the craft. With due reverence, the hatch of the Orion was opened for the first time in twenty three years.
The audible electronic ping soon was found to be caused by a crucifix attached to a necklace that had wrapped against the communication pod of the Orion. In the recesses of the Orion was where the body of Commander Pennebaker solemnly lay in the cryo module. The module was still functioning and running all these years thanks to the solar panels located on the outside of the Orion. “Summon the ship’s doctor to the cargo bay Ensign Parker. Let’s not rush to assume anything until we get all the facts.” “Aye-Aye Captain. Dr. Kathryn Bartolome you are wanted in the cargo bay ASAP", came the announcement over the ship’s loudspeaker. Within minutes, Dr. Bartolome was examining the frozen body of Commander Pennebaker. “I don’t know Captain, we could try to resuscitate him and perform neural preservation if that’s needed. It’s been over two decades since he put himself into this state. We’ve never attempted to resuscitate someone who has been frozen this long.” “Dr. Bartolome, do everything you can. We owe Commander Pennebaker that. We have to give him at least a fighting chance.” “I’ll start immediately Captain. Let’s get the Commander to sick bay”, came the order from Dr. Bartolome.
Commander Pennebaker’s body was taken and placed in a slow warming regenerator. His body completely submerged inside a warming bath of isotonic fluids that were temperature controlled by Dr. Bartolome. The process of cryo-resusitation and neural regeneration which was developed by NASA only ten years earlier usually took twenty four hours. Papa had been in the isotonic warming bath for forty eight hours without any signs of life. It wasn’t until the sixtieth hour when Dr. Bartolome summoned Captain Kelly to sick bay. “Sir, we have a pulse, and brain wave activity. I think the Commander is going to make it.” “Good job Kathryn, I mean Dr. Bartolome. The country owes you one, I owe you one. Let me know if you see any significant changes. I’ll notify NASA.”
I awoke on the third day after being placed in cryo-resusitation. At least that’s what I was told. I had lost the last twenty years of my life, but for all practical purposes I still was in my mid fifties. I looked the same as I did when I launched back in 2009. I had so many questions to ask, but first the most important thing on my mind was asking Dr. Kathryn Bartolome to hold me to prove she was real. “Hold me please; let me know you are real.” For the first time in a long time I felt the touch of another person. I knew I was alive. “I’m so cold, please just never let go.” I see that my sense of humor remained intact. Anything for a hug I thought.
Captain Kelly entered the room with a smile and handshake. “So do you know where you are, who you are, what year it is, he asked?” Yes, I’m aboard the USS Regal Empress I’m told, it’s 2032, and I’m Commander Papa K. Pennebaker.” “Wrong”, came the skipper’s reply. You are not Commander Papa K. Pennebaker. You were promoted during your little vacation. You were never declared dead, only missing in action. Your new name is Captain Papa K. Pennebaker. Congratulations Captain!” I never thought I would live to see the day I would be a Naval Captain. Now I could buy me a real nice surf board I thought…just got to get myself back to Cocoa.
The voyage back to NASA took less than 1 month. Advances in string technology had pushed the time it took to travel from one constellation to the next into days instead of years. During the down time I had on the voyage home, I learned that my good friend Wally Hunt passed away some fifteen years earlier. I shed too many tears that night, but found strength in his friendship and his belief in me throughout our association at the Cape. I also found out that Sam was now Commander Abjelina. She lived in Pensacola, Florida, and was an instructor for new student aviators entering the naval service. Her marriage had fallen apart only after one year, and she never remarried. She would be fifty years old now I thought. I imagined that she was still as beautiful and full of life as ever. I wondered if this time we could have a chance? I did know one thing, and that was as soon as I got back to the Cape I was going to find that half bottle of Tequila I left in my gear back in 2009, and I was going to get drunk.
Upon arrival at the Cape I was greeted to a hero’s welcome. I never looked at it like that. I was doing a job I loved doing. The boys in operations who bet on a comet collision with earth were way off in their calculations. There was not a ninety three percent chance of a comet colliding with earth. There was a 9.3 percent chance of a comet colliding with earth in 2045. Those were the calculations back in 2009. Now in 2032 the odds were even less. There was a .00093 chance of a comet colliding with earth. You had a better chance of being struck by lightning while going over the Niagara Falls in a barrel while playing the kazoo than the earth being destroyed by this comet. Thanks guys in operations….what you don’t know can actually kill you, it almost killed me.
That night I was given VIP quarters at NASA. I had a drink, found a few blankets and lay down for a good sleep. I dreamed of the Regal Empress, I dreamed of what ifs and I dreamed of my guardian angel Natividad. It was the crucifix banging the communication pod that made that rhythmic ping. The necklace with the crucifix swinging back and forth upon the instrument panel. It was Natividad saving me once again. Then a knock on the door awoke me in the dark, and I heard her voice…”It’s your Regal Empress. I’m here to save you." Then another knock and again the voice said, "It’s your Regal Empress. I’m here to save you." The door suddenly opened and I knew it was Sam from the scent of the only perfume she ever wore. “Hold me please; let me know if you are real…just hold me and never let me go.”
