Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw Viktor fumbling in his bag again. The old man pulled out another picture and said, “This for you so don’t see me whole trip.” He handed the photo to Peter.
Peter grabbed the small picture and looked at a glamorous head shot of Anya looking like a model. Her dark hair was blowing back, her face showing her natural beauty with just the right amount of make-up. Peter smiled and asked, “Where was this done?”
“Russia, few years ago. She do some model pictures for charity. She shy at first. One put in their magazine. She gave and I put on my desk.”
Peter lightly rubbed his finger over the picture. “Thank you. This is great. She is definitely easier on the eyes.”
Viktor chuckled as Peter rearranged his checklists and put Anya right in front of him. Now both men had their ladies front and center.
“LAUNCH DIRECTOR has given a go for launch. The countdown will proceed from the nine-minute hold mark. Now T-minus 8 minutes, 45 seconds and counting,” said Floyd of Launch Control.
This is it! The rocket’s pre-valves had opened and the liquid oxygen was flowing from the rocket’s tanks down to the first stage engines at the bottom of the rocket. For the first time, the rocket began to shake as the computer started testing the steering of those nine massive engines, toggling them back and forth. The beast was coming alive, stretching its muscles. Peter’s heart began to pound in his chest and his mouth felt like it was full of cotton; he was scared and the reaction surprised him. The fact was starting to settle in that he was sitting on top of a roman candle filled with over 100,000 gallons of fuel ready to ignite, and he and Viktor were the first crazy fools to ride such a monster. It had been easy for Peter to have confidence in the rocket before, but now, sitting on top of this bottle rocket ready to explode, he was having second thoughts.
He wasn’t scared of dying. Shit, he was already going to die. He was scared of not being able to complete the mission, of letting his country and his father down. He was scared of dying for nothing.
Sweat began to drip down his face as he tried to stay focused and do his final checks. He looked over at Viktor, who was smiling, whistling and enjoying himself. Lucky son-of-a-bitch.
“Newton 9… close visors,” said Launch Control.
Peter needed to repeat the order confirming he had heard it, but his mouth was too dry to talk. He struggled to get it out, “RRRRoger… closing visors.”
Viktor flashed him the “okay” sign, questioning if everything was all right. Peter flashed the sign back, hoping to convince his partner he was calm before closing his visor. He locked his visor, and a cool flow of oxygen began swirling around his face, helping to cool him off and eliminate the sweat.
“T-minus 5 minutes, 15 seconds, and the computers have taken over the countdown.”
Peter knew from being on backup Shuttle crews this was the point in the countdown where crew members would be reviewing their emergency escape procedures, which only reminded him… there was no emergency escape plan for this rocket. If anything happened—a fire, an explosion, or a thousand other potential catastrophes prior to launch—he and Viktor would be shit out of luck. They would be stuck in the capsule to die. His heart started pounding even harder and his breathing increased. With his visor closed, his breathing roared in the sealed helmet.
“T-minus 2 minutes, 10 seconds. Ground safety officer has enabled ignition. All systems remain go for launch,” said Launch Control.
Peter put his gloved hand to his chest, and pressed his suit where his dad’s locket was hanging around his neck. Sorry I’m scared, Dad… I just want to make sure we get this right. He did his last check of the monitors. Everything looked fine. From this point on, he and Viktor were along for the ride. They just needed to sit back and enjoy it.
“T-minus 55 seconds. Water deluge system is activated. Men of Newton 9, we wish you good luck and Godspeed,” said Floyd.
Peter answered, “Thank you, Launch Control.”
He took one last look at Viktor, who gave him a thumbs-up.
Peter focused on Anya’s picture, hoping her image would calm him. Looking up at the monitor, he saw they had less than twenty seconds until launch. He grabbed on to his seat and pushed back, preparing for the ride of his life.
“10… 9… 8… 7… 6… main engine start.”
The nine liquid-fueled engines ignited in a split second ripple fire effect sending a sudden loud, deafening noise crashing through the cockpit like a shockwave. A growling, wrenching vibration began to shake Peter. Shit, I hope this baby holds together… shit, I hope I hold together!
“5… 4… 3…”
The engines began to ramp up to full power, causing the vibration to strengthen. Peter gripped the arm rests with all of his might, trying to steady himself to read the monitors, but it was impossible. He just had to sit back and trust the system, and the machine. The computer was doing its final check of the engines’ power before it would release the rocket. Only the computer had the power to do so. C’mon baby, let her go.
“2… 1… zero… WE HAVE LIFT OFF!”
The four hydraulic clamps holding the rocket snapped back and freed her, like taking the chains off of a pissed off King Kong. The noise was incredible! Peter was shoved back into his seat by a million pounds of thrust exerting two times the force of gravity on his body. Peter could barely hear Launch Control say their last announcement, “The towers are cleared,” before passing command of the rocket over to Mission Control in California.
Peter allowed himself a quick sigh of relief, thinking the first major hurdle of clearing the tower was over. With the loud noise still happening, Peter shouted into his microphone, “Roger. We got roll program.”
“Roger. Roll,” said Bernie in Mission Control California.
Peter was informing Mission Control the roll and pitch program had put them on their proper heading. He was feeling a little less scared and little more excited about the ride. Struggling to see the monitor, he noticed the engines were reducing power, meaning the rocket must have been accelerating too fast and the computers had to slow it down to prevent the rocket from breaking apart in the thick atmosphere. This was a good sign indicating the computers were doing their job, insuring Peter and Viktor a safe ride into space.
Shock waves began to form on the nose of the rocket as they approached the sound barrier, which added to the shaking. Quickly they passed through the barrier and supersonic air started howling around their machine. Surprisingly, the vibrations got worse as the engines returned to full power and Peter was again pushed back in his seat. Peter did a recheck of the monitors and though his head was shaking all over the place, he was still able to get a quick reading. Everything looked normal.
Peter felt like he was in a paint shaker machine, holding on for dear life. He then noticed something odd; Anya’s pendant started to bounce slightly up and down. Why is it doing that? It should just be hanging, not bouncing. With the heavy pull of gravity it should hang, maybe some jostling side to side, but it shouldn’t bounce! Then the answer hit him—the rocket was starting to “pogo,” the phenomenon that happens when the fuel is passing through the pipes and a resonance frequency develops, causing the rocket to vibrate longitudinally, like a pogo stick going up and down. Not good! Many rockets in the past had had this problem, and if the frequency was just right, it could feed on itself until becoming so bad it would break up the rocket.
“We are experiencing pogo,” shouted Peter into his microphone.