Palla
The Moon - February 22
The lander was cramped. Sixty years since the last manned mission, and they still didn’t design the spacecraft with more legroom? Frederica Eisenburg was starting to feel a little numb in her feet. She had been cooped up in here for four days now. The food wasn’t good, but she couldn’t complain about that. She looked to her left and right. Her crew also looked like they’d rather be home. There was hardly anything to do up here. Good thing they were almost there. She looked up and saw the gray crater-filled expanse of the Ruhemeer stretching as far as she could see. At that moment, her computer locked onto a certain crater in the distance. She immediately hit the radio.
“Nuremberg, we’re approaching the landing zone,” she radioed, “Beginning disengagement.”
“Copy that,” Mission Control replied.
Frederica turned to her crew. “Begin disengaging from Whitewing.”
Her crew hit some buttons. Frederica felt a thunk and a rumble, followed by the lander slightly speeding up as the command module silently “fell” away outside. She put her hand around a joystick and fired the lander’s thrusters, hearing a muffled hiss from elsewhere in the craft. The lander gradually spun itself around until Moon’s surface was below her and the landing zone was dead ahead.
“Disengagement and reorientation successful,” Frederica said.
“Copy that,” Mission Control said, “You’re a go for landing.”
“Roger,” Frederica replied, “Understood. Go for landing. Beginning final descent. Initiating burn in 5—4—3—2—1—mark.”
The thrusters fired again, those on top of the craft pushing it into a downward trajectory while those on the bottom slowed the descent. Frederica kept her hand on the joystick, occasionally jerking to the right or left to keep the craft level. The lander rocked and rumbled, shaking everybody’s chairs. The good luck charm Frederica brought with her, a bobblehead of a green-haired woman riding a pegasus her friend gave her as a gift, bobbed slowly but intensely. Frederica checked her gauges. The fuel gauge was depleting at expected rates. The altimeter was slightly off-level, with the altitude descending a little slower than she expected with the estimated time and distance she had left. She fired off a short burst from the upward thrusters, and the lander shot down faster. One of the gauges flashed red.
“Nuremberg, altitudes are a little high, but within acceptable parameters,” she radioed, “I’m also getting a little fluctuation in the voltage now.”
“Copy,” Mission Control said, “You’re still looking good there. Coming up on three minutes.”
Was it three minutes to landing already? She thought she would have a little more time. She looked at the computer, but it also said three minutes.
“Our position checks downrange show us to be a little long,” Frederica said, “AGS has gone about two feet per second greater than it should be.”
“Roger,” Mission Control said, “That still looks good to us. You are a go for landing.”
“Copy that,” Frederica said, “Go for landing.”
She eased the joystick down, and with it the lander continued its descent. The surface ran up, its craters growing larger and zipping past below. She could now see the lander’s shadow racing across the desolate moonscape in pace with her, slowly getting closer as she closed the distance.
“Three thousand feet,” she said, “Two thousand…eight hundred…”
“Looking great,” Mission Control said, “You’re a go.”
She fired the frontward thrusters to slow her horizontal trajectory. The lander flew over a crater and into a large flat area. The computer marked the landing zone and began calculating a path.
“35 degrees,” Frederica said, “750. Coming down to 23.”
“Copy,” Mission Control said.
“Three hundred feet, down three and a half, 47 forward,” Frederica reported.
She could now see large rocks dotting the surface. She was almost there…wait! The computer urgently beeped, marking several large boulders at the landing zone. It was too rocky to attempt a touchdown.
“Wait,” she said, “Got some boulders up ahead, right in our path. I'm going long, looking for a better site. Thrusting forward.”
She fired the rear and bottom thrusters, slowing her descent and moving faster forward.
“One hundred feet, three and a half down, nine forward, five percent,” she said.
The lander continued its flight. Frederica predicted the boulder field would clear out after another few dozen feet. But it didn’t.
“75 feet, rocks everywhere,” she said, “Still looking for a spot to set down.”
The other crew were also radioing Mission Control with their statuses, some sounding more worried than others. Frederica focused on piloting. Come on, computer, find something.
Beep. A green target appeared on the screen, identifying a suitable landing site in a small but clear around among the boulders.
“Got it!” she radioed. “Found one! Twenty feet up and closing! Lights on!”
The shadow raced up to the side of the lander. It was now close enough Frederica felt like she could just reach out and touch it. She started cutting the thrusters’ output. As she got closer, a cloud of moon dust swirled around, obscuring her vision.
“Kicking up some dust,” she said, “Lots of dust. Stabilizing trajectory…”
It was then that the lander hit a stray boulder the computer had missed, and her face paled.
“Oh no,” she said.
That hit was enough to throw the lander out of balance, and even with the thrusters firing at reduced output, it spun around wildly. The computer screen was inundated with dozens of rapidly incoming error messages. Frederica desperately fired the thrusters again. She watched as the altimeter rapidly dipped to 0.
Mission Control, Nuremberg
“We've lost telemetry!” a technician said. “No bioreadings!”
“Guidance computer is negative,” another technician said, “And no data from the onboard computer.”
“I've got nothing here,” another said.
“I’ve lost the whole thing!” a fourth said. “No signal!”
The entire room erupted into uproar. The director got out of his seat and stomped his foot.
“SETTLE DOWN!” he said.
He turned to the communications operator. “See if you can raise Palla.”
The operator spoke into his radio. “Palla, this is Nuremberg. Do you read?”
No response.
“Palla, this is Nuremberg. Do you copy?”
Still nothing.
“Try contacting the service module,” the director said.
“Whitewing, this is Nuremberg,” the operator said, “We’ve lost contact with Palla. See if you can raise them.”
“Copy that, Nuremberg,” the Whitewing’s pilot said, “Palla, this is Whitewing. Can you copy my transmission?”
Nothing.
The pilot tried it again a couple times. Still nothing.
“Is it possible the spacecraft exploded?” a technician suggested.
“Unlikely,” the director said, “We would’ve seen signs of that in the telemetry stream.”
“Maybe it was just their comms?”
“No, all telemetry also went down. These are independent systems. They could not fail simultaneously unless there was a catastrophic event.”
“So they crashed?”
“Most likely. Frakking idiots. This is why we don’t send women up there anymore. Can’t drive for scheiße. I thought the committee got rid of this pandering.”
“Okay, say they crashed. If they’re still alive, what's our contingency plan?”
“It takes four days to get to the moon, they’ll run out of air and water before then.”
“Maybe Whitewing can see something from orbit.”
The operator pinged Whitewing. “Whitewing, this is Nuremberg. Can you see anything?”
“I'm following the surface terrain, and I think the landing site should be coming up soon,” the pilot said, “Can't see anything yet. Wait. There. Don't know if you can see this.”
“I don't see anything,” the director said.
“I see Palla,” the pilot said, “I'd say she's about six to eight miles southwest of the original landing site. Seems to be in a pretty rocky area. Can't see any movement or activity.”
“He wouldn't be able to from that altitude,” a technician said, “At least we know where they are.”
“Palla, this is Nuremberg,” the operator said, “Do you copy? Over.”
Still nothing. Minutes passed in a smothering and terrifying silence. Just when the director was about to lose hope, he heard static over the radio.
“Nuremberg!” Frederica said.
The video feed resumed seconds later.
“Ruhe Base here, do you read?” she said.
“Ruhe Base, this is Nuremberg,” the director said, “Frederica, is that you?”
“Affirmative!” Frederica said. “We may have had a…
rocky landing, but we made it!”
Everybody in Mission Control shot out of their seats and cheered.
“Copy that, Ruhe,” the operator said, “You made everyone down here very relieved.”
Dhar, India
“Glad to hear it, Nuremberg,” Frederica said, “We’re relieved up here as well.”
The TV feed resumed, Mission Control having reestablished contact with Athena 2. Wilhelmina watched Frederica trying to get the camera set up. She always had issues with cameras, even back on Earth. When Wilhelmina had recommended her to lead the new mission, she dropped the phone she was video conferencing on and spent a minute trying to fix her settings (and turn off some filters). But she took all of these gaffes in stride, and here she was, setting foot on the moon as the first Roman and human to do so in almost sixty years. Of course, she had to sneak a pun into her first words on the moon.
“Congratulations, Willie,” Jayasimha said.
“Big sisters get it done,” Wilhelmina joked.
“Uh, what?” Jayasimha said.
“Uh, it’s a reference to how in Fire Emblem…eh, never mind,” Wilhelmina said.
Nobody still knew how she convinced RANA to use Palla instead of the correct Pallas. Fire Emblem fan sites all over the Internet were still blowing up.
“Just you wait, Willie,” Tsai said, “We’re catching up with Chang’e. Got a great taikonaut lined up already.”
“Tell me when you actually finish haggling over the budget,” Jayasimha said, “Meanwhile, I have plans to put tandoori on the moon and have one of our guys eat it there. First gourmet lunch on the moon.”
“Yeah, plans,” Tsai said, “I doubt the tandoori will still be good after the three day ride. Gourmet lunch on the moon? More like a bad case of diarrhea on the moon. Or rather…a bad case of
mooning on the moon.”
They all laughed. On TV, Frederica stepped out of the lander and onto the lunar surface. A thin cloud of moon dust burst up from under her feet. She held up her Palla bobblehead clearly for the camera to see.
“I am here because I stand on the shoulders of giants,” Frederica said, “Because brave men and women before me challenged what was thought of as impossible and made it possible. Because there were those who believed in me and what I could accomplish. Because we believed in the ideals of Friedrich the Great and lifted each other to new heights. I would like to thank my dearest friend, Princess Wilhelmina, for always believing in me. For always seeing in me the woman I always could be. Thank you, Wilhelmina, for being my idol. For being the Palla always at my side. For being a shining example of what we should all aspire to be.”
Wilhelmina’s expression changed, and she looked down in shame.
“What is it?” Tsai said.
“What am I even doing here?” Wilhelmina said. “Frederica’s up in space, my uncle is causing crazy times at home, my other friends are standing up for what’s right, and meanwhile I’m here in Dhar, attending another of the Samrat Chakravartin’s house parties. I’m doing nothing. Do I even deserve to be Frederica’s idol?”
“I’m sure you’ve done plenty of things,” Tsai said, “Have some faith. You’ve inspired plenty of people already.”
“But if they knew the real me, they would find I’m no different from my uncle,” Wilhelmina said, “Only I’m less ambitious. That’s why he’s Kaiser and not me.”
“Why don’t we get to the bottom of this?” Jayasimha said, sitting down and crossing his legs. “There’s a chakra related to this.”
“Oh come on!” Tsai said. “Do you have to find a way to work chakras into everything?”
“It’s been a while since the last chakra,” Jayasimha said, "We should probably not take so long between them."
“Fine, let’s begin,” Wilhelmina said, sitting opposite Jayasimha.
“We’ll talk about the fire chakra, located in your stomach,” Jayasimha said.
“Speaking of stomachs, I’m a little hungry,” Wilhelmina said.
“Yeah, so am I, when’s dinner?” Tsai said.
“Don’t worry, we can have all the tandoori chicken you want when we’re done,” Jayasimha said, “Anyways, this chakra deals with power. It’s blocked with shame. What are you ashamed of? What is your biggest disappointment?”
Wilhelmina closed her eyes and cleared her mind to think. She had a lot of disappointments, but there was one she particularly focused on. A tear rolled down her cheek.
“I’m not my mother,” she said, “I’m just a woman who likes games, not a dignified princess who continues the legacy of her mother. I’m supposed to be the daughter of Elisabeth Alexandra, but instead I’m…nothing. My country needs me, and I’ve abandoned my people. I’m hiding from my responsibilities here.”
“You’re right, Wilhelmina,” Jayasimha, “You’re not your mother. But you don’t need to be. You’re holding on to a false perception of yourself, that you need to be your mother in order to find meaning. You will never find inner peace if you cling to this idea. You need to let go.”
Wilhelmina opened her eyes and saw Elisabeth Alexandra sitting next to Jayasimha.
“Mom?” Wilhelmina said.
“Who?” Tsai said.
Jayasimha said nothing. Nobody but Wilhelmina noticed Elisabeth Alexandra.
“Hello, my little wombat,” Elisabeth Alexandra said.
Nobody had called her that since she was a kid. In a way, she missed that nickname. It made her feel at home.
“I’m so sorry, Mom,” Wilhelmina said, “I failed you. I’m your daughter, and I should have done more to protect your legacy. I should have been there for the people, like you were. But instead, all I do is play games. I’m not you, Mom.”
“Listen to Jayasimha, sweetie,” Elisabeth Alexandra said, “You already know the truth. You are trying to hold on to something that is not your destiny, and it’s holding you back from what you can really become. You are not me, and you shouldn’t try to be me. You’re not a second Elisabeth Alexandra. You don’t have to be me. You are Wilhelmina. And I’ll always love you no matter what.”
Elisabeth Alexandra’s image shimmered, turning into a reflection of Wilhelmina before vanishing with the blink of an eye. Wilhelmina nodded with resolve.
“I am not a reflection of my mother,” she told herself, “My identity is not bound to the legacy of Elisabeth Alexandra. I am my own person. I am Wilhelmina!”
August Chamber, Brandenburg Palace, Berlin
The first “O” inscribed on Enonon flashed white.
Dhar
“I think that worked,” Jayasimha said.
Wilhelmina belched loudly. “I’m hungry now.”
“Me too,” Tsai said.
“Let’s go get that tandoori chicken,” Jayasimha said.
“But seriously, what was that?” Tsai said.
“What was what?” Jayasimha said.
“It was nothing,” Wilhelmina said.