Rocket Girls Page 10

  “Two rockets? At the same time?”

  “I wouldn’t stop at two—ten is a nice, round number. It will be cheaper building them in bulk, and since they’ll all be made to the same specifications, it will help put my daughter at ease.”

  “They’re not launching me ten times,” said Yukari.

  “Whomever, then.” Hiroko turned to Director Nasuda. “If you’re really that confident in this technology, it’s the only way that makes sense. Throw every yen you have into mass production. Think of how the auto industry handles the release of a new model. They don’t make the announcement and then ask their customers to wait while their cars are manufactured. They’re ready from day one. Why should rockets be any different? Rockets on demand—the Solomon Space Association’s new business model. The world will beat a path to your door.”

  “Brilliant!” Director Nasuda clapped his hands together. When it came to making the big decisions, no one was faster than Nasuda. “What do you say, Yukari? Will a test launch just before your own be enough to satisfy you?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Motoko, can you produce enough fuel for ten rockets with your current facilities?”

  “I should be able to manage,” said Motoko.

  “Mukai, how many rockets can you crank out?”

  “I can probably have the first two ready in time.”

  “If we reorganize the assembly line right, I bet we can manage three,” said Kinoshita.

  Mukai put a hand on Kinoshita’s shoulder. “Let’s slow down here.”

  “Listen, if anything goes wrong with the test vehicle,” replied Kinoshita, “the project is over. The end. Having another backup cuts our risk significantly.”

  “Three it is then,” said Director Nasuda. Subject closed. “Everyone, I know these next two months aren’t going to be easy, but it all comes down to this. Now let’s get to work.”

  When Yukari’s mother said she was just dropping by, she had meant it. Her boat back to Guadalcanal left that afternoon. The car Mr. Cheung had arranged for her was waiting at the gate of the base.

  “Mom,” said Yukari.

  “Yes, dear?”

  “If you take the base helicopter back, you can see him and still make your boat.”

  Hiroko shook her head. “Next time.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  She got into the car and rolled down the window. “The hunger strike—that was a good idea.”

  “You think so?”

  “Getting involved with your work is the only way to enjoy it. You have to test your boundaries.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Yukari said.

  “If you’re not careful, you might end up liking it.”

  “Not likely.”

  Yukari watched as the car disappeared into the jungle.

  CHAPTER VI

  MIDNIGHT INTERVIEW

  [ACT 1]

  “ALL RIGHT, LET’S try a shot with the two of you holding your helmets—there, perfect.”

  Click. Whir. Click. Whir. Click.

  The sound of the camera’s motor drive echoed through the cavernous Vehicle Assembly Building. The man behind the lens was twenty-six-year-old Tohdo Takeuchi, SSA’s new public relations director. He had only held the position for three weeks. While honing his chops on a worldwide photography expedition, he had made a stop at the base and never left. His interest in photography bordered on obsessive.

  Takeuchi held his beloved OM-4Ti on its side for a vertical shot.

  “Drop to one knee for me, Matsuri.”

  “Hoi.”

  “Yukari, stand a little closer, with your left hand on Matsuri’s back—that’s it.”

  Click. Whir. Click. Whir. Click.

  “Let’s see some smiles, Yukari.”

  “How much longer?” Yukari’s expression was sullen.

  “We’re just about done here. Then I need a few shots of you training—the centrifuge, the simulator, the neutral buoyancy pool.” Takeuchi counted off the pending photo shoots on his fingers.

  Yukari broke in before he could go any further. “Can’t we do those next time?”

  “I’d like to wrap it up today. Time is tight if we want to make the New Year’s Eve specials.”

  “Who cares about PR? All that matters is if the mission is successful.”

  “We want the media to give this project the coverage it deserves. That’s why I’m putting together a proper press kit—glossy photos, the whole nine yards.”

  “A press kit?”

  “We’re sending them out to all the major newspapers and TV stations. They’ll include everything from an overview of the program to directions on how to get to the base.”

  Yukari sighed.

  “It’s free publicity. That has to be worth posing for a few pictures.”

  “But it’s all so…phony.”

  “Welcome to PR.”

  [ACT 2]

  “THERE’S SOMETHING WE need to talk about, Yukari.” Director Nasuda sat at his desk, chewing slowly on his words. “We’re about to step onto the world stage. We may be cloaked in the guise of the OECF, but we both know what this performance is really about—Japan’s first independent attempt at manned space-flight. And do you know who the star of our little show is?”

  “Me?” Yukari ventured.

  “That’s right. The youngest astronaut in history, flying solo in a one-man capsule. You’re going to be at the center of a global media frenzy.”

  “I can take it.”

  “We need you handling interviews with courtesy and grace, no matter what sort of questions they throw at you.”

  Yukari swallowed hard.

  “You’re the face of the entire program. The world will see us in the light the media shows us in. It’s up to you to ensure that’s a positive light. The future of the program depends on it. This is a task every bit as important as your duties as an astronaut. You’re sure you’re up to it?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “I knew we could count on you. The media will be reporting on every aspect of your life—birthday, blood type, favorite food, relationships past and present.”

  “I bet.”

  “But one thing is going to have them worked up more than anything else—your family.” Director Nasuda looked Yukari squarely in the eye. “A globe-trotting mother who’s an architectural designer. A father who disappeared on his honeymoon and became the chief of a tribe of indigenous Solomon Islanders. A half sister whose mother is a tribal shaman.”

  Yukari nodded.

  “Of course we could…cover this up if we wanted to. Tell them you were visiting the Solomon Islands on vacation. That Matsuri was the granddaughter of a Japanese soldier who had become part of the tribe. It’s a small island, so it wouldn’t take much effort to lay the groundwork.”

  “Hmm.”

  “The cover-up is the easier way. It will let us head off any tabloid reporting that might upset our schedule. It’s only twenty days until the launch—you may be handling the pressure now, but there’s no need to go asking for more.”

  Yukari considered for a moment before answering. “I’ll take my chances.”

  “Oh?” Director Nasuda arched his eyebrows. “You want the whole truth out there?”

  “I don’t like the idea of lying, and what better time to publicize the fact that my family is finally getting back together.”

  “Interesting.”

  “We’re lucky my mom had the job she did. We always had enough money, and she still managed to bring me up in spite of being a single mother. That has to play well. None of it changes who my father is, but at least I finally found him.”

  “I doubt they’ll leave it at that.”

  “If the press gives my dad a hard time, it’s no more than he deserves.”

  “They’ll make him out to be the bad guy.”

  “Isn’t he?”

  Director Nasuda gave an inward sigh. Apparently Hiroshi Morita wasn’t done paying for the sins of his wayward fatherhood. “Who am I to
convince you otherwise?”

  Yukari turned to leave and then stopped. “Oh, one more thing. Do you think you could have them include this family stuff in the press kit? I don’t want to go over all the basics every time I sit down for an interview.”

  “I’ll make sure it gets in. The secrecy ends now.”

  [ACT 3]

  BY HELICOPTER IT was less than five minutes from the base to the Taliho village. A large sling lowered Matsuri down to the village square as the helicopter hovered overhead. Once on the ground she rushed up the ladder to her father’s hut.

  “Hoi! It’s me, Dad.”

  “Good to see you, Matsuri.” There was real joy in Hiroshi Morita’s eyes. “Quite an entrance you made on that helicopter.”

  “We’re so busy with training it’s the only way I’d have enough time to visit. I got them to drop me off during our lunch break.” Matsuri sat down cross-legged in front of her father.

  “Modern conveniences can be nice, eh? So, what brings you here?”

  “I don’t have long, so I’ll keep this short.” Matsuri checked her wristwatch—an SSA-issued Omega Speedmaster. “Yukari’s launch is scheduled for the twenty-seventh, and they’re going to send up a test rocket just before her launch.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  “It’s really important that nobody places any curses on these two rockets. You can’t let anybody turn them into fireworks.”

  The chief’s face was somber. “Of course. We’ll have to be careful.”

  “I’ll be in the control room providing mission support, so I can’t be here. That means you have to make sure nobody does anything they shouldn’t.”

  “I’ll take care of it. We won’t curse any rockets between now and December 27.”

  “Thanks, Dad. Do you know where Mom is?”

  “Toto’s in the spirit lodge. She won’t be out until tonight.”

  “Oh, okay. I’ll come back tomorrow or the next day to talk about this with her.”

  Matsuri’s mother, Toto, was a village shaman. Matsuri wouldn’t be able to put her mind at ease until she had explained the situation to Toto as well.

  “By all means. So, how is Yukari holding up?”

  “She says this is as hard as when she was studying for her high school entrance exams. She can’t wait to finish so she can go back to Japan with you.”

  “That came up, did it?”

  Matsuri looked at her father and smiled. “If you don’t go to Japan with her, she’s gonna be furious. I don’t even want to think of the names she’ll call you.”

  “I can only imagine.” The chief forced himself to return his daughter’s smile. “To be honest, I thought the rocket would have scared her off by now.”

  “She told me she was focusing on her ultimate goal, not on how hard things were now. Just like before getting into high school.”

  The chief sighed. “Civilization toughens people up in its own way.”

  “Hoi. Yukari’s tougher than she looks.”

  “But going into space—that’s another matter altogether.” The chief looked earnestly at Matsuri. “Take care of her. For all the trouble she’s causing, she’s still my daughter.”

  “Don’t worry, Dad,” Matsuri said. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”

  [ACT 4]

  YUKARI STORMED INTO Director Nasuda’s office and slammed the press kit down on his desk.

  A week had passed since the PR photo shoot.

  “What’s this supposed to be?” demanded Yukari.

  “What’s what supposed to be?”

  “This pack of lies!”

  “Which part?”

  “Right here.”

  Yukari pointed to a paragraph in the kit.

  The moment Yukari Morita saw the rocket, it was love at first sight. She had dreamed of space since she was a child. Convinced that destiny had brought her to the Solomon Space Center, she went immediately to Director Isao Nasuda and asked to pilot the rocket on its maiden voyage. Struck by her passion, Director Nasuda wasted no time in having his medical staff assess her suitability for the program. The tests confirmed that Yukari Morita possessed singular physical fitness, mental prowess, and stamina. And so the youngest astronaut in history received her commission.

  “Since when am I in love with a rocket?”

  “A rhetorical flourish.”

  “It’s a lie. Fix it.”

  “They’ve already been released.”

  Yukari couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “Certain aspects of the program are still confidential,” said Director Nasuda. “Your skintight space suit, the new rocket fuel— and above all else, the lift capabilities of the LS-5A. If the truth gets out—that it can only carry someone of your diminutive weight—we’re ruined. You can’t expect us to announce that we recruited you because you were the only person we could find who was light enough to launch.”

  “That still doesn’t give you the right to go making up how I supposedly feel about all this.”

  “It’s part of your job. This is a ten-billion-yen-a-year project. We can’t go around saying whatever pops into our heads just because it happens to be true.”

  “Did you ever think it might be smart to run it by the person you were making up this story about first? This isn’t the first time you’ve shown me such a lack of respect, and I’m sick of it. I’m going to tell the reporters whatever I like.”

  “Wait! Hear me out!” Director Nasuda half rose from his desk as Yukari turned to leave. “This is our dream,” he pleaded. Yukari stopped. “This base is filled with people who want nothing more than to go to space, but they can’t. Did you ever think about them? The way they see you?”

  Yukari thought back to what Kinoshita had said on the beach.

  “Everyone here knows you didn’t ask to become an astronaut. But do you really hate it so much? No, don’t answer that. But know that everyone here wants to believe that deep down inside, you don’t hate it. This lie is as much for them as it is for the press.”

  [ACT 5]

  ONCE THE SOLOMON Space Center press kits had been sent out, the media response was immediate. After a battle over the rights to the limited satellite bandwidth over the Pacific, the media started pouring onto the island. Broadcast crews carrying oversized luggage, reporters, cameramen—one after another, they came.

  There were teams from six television stations in Japan alone, not to mention Kyodo News Service, the big three American networks, CNN—all of the major players. Counting the print journalists who didn’t show up with much more than the clothes on their backs, the ranks of the press corps soon swelled past four hundred. After checking in and receiving their credentials, they were given quarters in prefab housing on the base. Portable satellite dishes sprang up like mushrooms after a rainstorm.

  The first press conference was held on December 19, one week before launch. The main conference room had been converted for the event, complete with batteries of microphones and cameras. At the center of it all, beneath the blinding floodlights, were Director Nasuda, Yukari, and Matsuri.

  Yukari and Matsuri wore pink pantsuits, purchased by the public relations officer himself on a trip to Sydney for that purpose. Even Director Nasuda was dressed to kill in a crisp three-piece suit. The air conditioning worked overtime to battle the equatorial heat, but the room remained uncomfortably warm.

  Director Nasuda began the press conference with a short address extolling the virtues of manned spaceflight, the advantages of launch systems that handled humans and cargo separately, and the cost-effectiveness of the new hybrid engine. However, the journalists were clearly much more interested in hearing what the girls had to say.

  “I have a question for Yukari,” said one of the reporters. He had shown remarkable restraint by waiting a full two seconds after the end of Director Nasuda’s opening remarks. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  So this was how it was going to be. It didn’t seem like an appropriate question for an astronau
t, but the journalist looked dead serious. Ridiculous as it may have been, Yukari was willing to go along with it if it meant getting this over and done with.

  “No,” said Yukari.

  “Who’s your favorite musician?”

  “ZIMA, stuff like that.”

  “Favorite food?”

  “The shrimp dumplings at Tianjin Restaurant.”

  “Extracurricular activities?”

  “Track and field.”

  “Blood type?”

  “A.”

  “Any brothers or sisters?”

  Yukari froze. “Uh, I think the press kit covered that.”

  “I’d like to hear it in your own words.”

  “No, no brothers or sisters.”

  “What do you do if you get your period in space?” asked a female reporter.

  At this point, Yukari decided to tell it like it was. “The urine collector in the suit can handle it, but the launch schedule also takes that into account.”

  “And if the launch is delayed?”

  “In a worst-case scenario, they can always use the backup crew.”

  “Would you categorize your menstrual pain as severe?”

  “I’m not going to dignify that with a response,” Yukari snapped. A barrage of strobe lights flashed. Yukari had no doubt those pictures would find their way to magazine covers around the globe.

  Next her family life came under the microscope.

  “What do you think of your father?”

  “I think he’s a deadbeat.”

  The directness of her response elicited a number of surprised gasps.

  “So you aren’t going to forgive him?” purred a female reporter.

  “That’s up to him.”

  “How do you mean?”