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Tytorian Vignettes

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Tytor:
Far Above the World - Part 5
Highmark Cosmodrome Control Room
May 13th, 2019
7:39 PM

Mackenzie Collins watched the screen showing the progress of the three brave cosmonauts of Atlas 9 as the lunar module came ever closer to its designated landing point: Tycho Crater in the moon's southern hemisphere.  He was nervous.  The last time Tytor came close to any sort of space travel milestone, the seven cosmonauts aboard the Challenger had lost their lives.  In fact, he had been at the launch pad when it had happened, and Project Challenger had been placed on hold ever since.  Still, Atlas 9 had not encountered any serious difficulties as of yet.

As Collins glanced around surreptitiously for some wood on which to knock, Travers' voice came over the PA system.

"Highmark, this is, uh, Trinity," the cosmonaut said, "Not to alarm you or anything, but we've overshot our landing site."

Collins heard Roger Bennion, the mission director, mutter a curse under his breath, but when he spoke, it was with little concern in his voice.

"Good to know, Trinity," he said into the microphone on his headset, "Look around quickly to see if you can spot a decent alternative."

"Roger that, Highmark," Travers replied, "We should be landed in no time."

Bennion left it at that, so Collins returned his gaze to the screen in front of him.  Trinity was running out of time; the fuel gauge was hovering dangerously close to empty.  The Aerospace Ministry hadn't planned for the cosmonauts to miss their landing spot, and very little extra landing fuel had been provided for in the design of the lunar module.

The seconds ticked slowly away.  There were thirty seconds of fuel left.  Now there were twenty-five seconds.  Now twenty.  The silence in the control room was deafening, the tension almost palpable.  Fifteen.  Ten.  Five... four... three-

"Highmark, Tycho Base here," Anderson's voice said suddenly, "Trinity has landed.  Repeat, Trinity has landed."

All at once, the tension broke, and the room exploded with cheers.  Collins released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.  The usually somber and reserved Bennion seemed to be dancing something of a jig.  The control room staff members were hugging one another and sharing high fives in a general display of jubilation and ecstasy that Collins knew was being echoed nationwide as Tytorians everywhere watched the landing live.  Collins knew he needed to get to the press room for the briefing he'd promised, but he wanted to savor this moment as long as he could manage.  In only a few hours, the cosmonauts inside that lunar module would be walking around on the surface of the moon, and all too soon would be back in Tytor as celebrated national heroes.  Collins could hardly wait.

It was going to be a good week after all.

Tytor:
Far Above the World - Part 6
Tycho Base, The Moon
May 14th, 2019
2:08 AM (Highmark Time)

It had taken three whole hours, but Anderson was finally ready to step out of the lunar module and into history.  He'd been training for this moment for years, and he had a rough idea of what he wanted to say to all the people watching on television.

"You about ready, then?" Travers asked him, looking about ready himself.

"Yep," Anderson replied, "Let's get this show on the road."

With that, the hatch was opened, and the two cosmonauts looked out over the barren wasteland that was the moon's surface.

"Such desolation," Travers commented.

"It's magnificent," Anderson replied, feeling awed.  The cosmonauts finished their preparations in silence, and then the time finally came.  Anderson maneuvered himself out of the lunar module's interior an onto the ladder.

"Don't fall," Travers cautioned jokingly, "I won't be there to catch you."

Anderson grinned, though he knew Travers couldn't see it.  "Well, I'm on the ladder, preparing to step off onto the surface of the moon," he said for the benefit of those watching on TBS, "This is something only one Tytorian has ever done before, and I think I am speaking not only for myself, but also for Dan Foster and Pete Travers and everyone back home at the Aerospace Ministry when I say that I'm dedicating this mission to Dr. Matthew Howard and the other brave men and women who died aboard the Challenger four years ago."

He moved down to the bottom rung and deployed the lunar module's external television camera, then paused, gathering his thoughts.  After a moment, he continued.  "All right, I'm stepping off the ladder," he said, "Rest in peace, Doctor Howard."

Then he stepped down onto the lunar surface.

A few minutes later, Travers stepped down beside him.  "To all of you planetside who have ever doubted," he said, fully serious for perhaps the first time all mission, "Who have ever believed that there is something, anything, you cannot do, know that you are a member of the human race.  Mankind has learned how to place one of their own on another world, and I believe that you can do whatever you set your mind to.  No, it's more than that.  I know it.  Don't you ever let anyone tell you otherwise."

Anderson nodded gravely, then remembered no one could see such a gesture.  "I can second that," he said solemnly, "May the moon ever remain a symbol of humanity's capacity for doing the impossible."

Suddenly, through another channel left open for communication between the command module and the surface, Anderson heard the unmistakable sound of Foster starting to strum his ukelele, which he'd somehow snuck into the capsule before launch, followed by Foster's voice.  He was singing, "Ground control to Major Tom..."

Anderson smiled to himself.  All was well.

Tytor:
Far Above the World - Part 7
Atlas 9 Command/Service Module
May 14th, 2019
8:53 PM (Highmark Time)

Foster watched nervously as the lunar module came back up from the surface of the moon.  It was official: Tytor had reached the moon on its own, had landed not one but two men on its surface, and had planted the Tytorian flag near the landing site.  The next test was whether or not the cosmonauts involved could return safely to Mundus.  Foster thought they probably could, but he did have his doubts.  What would happen if they didn't?  He pushed the thought out of his mind.  All he need do right now was help maneuver the command/service module into alignment with the lunar module before aiming a course back home.

As it happened, the connection was pretty much just as easy as in the simulations.  In almost no time at all, the other two cosmonauts were back in the cramped little spacecraft that would take them home to Mundus.

"Did ya miss us?" Travers asked buoyantly as soon as the hatch opened.

"Nah," Foster replied with half a smile, "It was nice to have some peace and quiet for once."

"Oh, you," Travers said goodnaturedly, "That's the nicest thing anybody's-"

"Enough, ladies," Anderson said, cutting Travers off midsentence, "Let's get ourselves back to Tytor, shall we?  I'm desperate to see my wife again."

With that, they got to work.  Soon enough, the lunar module was jettisoned and the cosmonauts were slingshotting around the moon.  Anderson picked up the radio transmitter and turned it on.

"Highmark, this is Albion," he said, "We're on our way back with no trouble.  Hope you've got our welcoming committee ready, over."

"Albion, Highmark," came the response, "You'd better believe we do.  The party's ready to start; all we're missing are the guests of honor, over."

"Good to hear, Highmark," Anderson said as his compatriots laughed, "We're looking forward to it.  Albion out."

He hung up the transmitter and chuckled softly.  It was going to be a short trip.

Tytor:
Far Above the World - Part 8
HTMS Admiral, Sea of Kyne
May 17th, 2019
4:30 PM (Highmark Time)

Mackenzie Collins looked out over the trackless sea with almost giddy anticipation.  Atlas 9's command module had successfully splashed down mere minutes ago, and the huge aircraft carrier was moving swiftly in its direction.  It seemed that the mission had been a complete success; Atlas 9 had made it to the moon and back without any major catastrophes.  Granted, this was more than likely Project Atlas' last hurrah, but it was a glorious one.  With the Tytorian public's confidence restored in the space program, perhaps even Project Challenger could be resumed.

"Mr. Collins," the ship's captain said through his reverie, "His Majesty left word that he would like you to join him on deck as the cosmonauts are brought on board.  We're almost there."

Collins glanced around the bridge; he hadn't noticed the king leaving, so absorbed was he in his own thoughts.  "Thank you, Captain," he responded, "I'll make my way down as quickly as possible."

The captain nodded, and Collins left the bridge.  As he walked out onto the flight deck, he saw the king standing with the rest of the cosmonauts' welcoming party.  His Majesty was wearing a brown suit that made him stick out like a sore thumb.  Prime Minister Thatcher was there too, looking dapper (was that even a word that could be applied to a woman?) in her usual dark blue jacket and skirt.  A handful of other officials were there as well, as, of course, were representatives of every major newspaper and television or radio station in Tytor.

Ignoring the press for the time being, Collins walked to the government delegation, shook hands with each of them, and turned to wait for the recovery.

"It's a beautiful day," King Michael said, recapturing Collins' attention, "Hardly a cloud in the sky.  Perfect weather, wouldn't you say?"

"Well, yes, Your Majesty," Collins replied, feeling a little startled by the king's small talk.

"It's a wonderful day to be Tytorian," the king went on, seemingly oblivious to Collins' discomfort, "I would hardly have imagined after Atlas 8 that we would ever make it to the moon ourselves, but you and the Aerospace Ministry have certainly proved that impression wrong."

Collins remained quiet, and the king finally started talking to someone else in the group.  Within a few more minutes, the ship's PA system announced that the carrier was in position.  The buzz of conversation among the reporters grew suddenly louder, while the government delegation fell completely silent.  Collins heard a few cameras going off, and then the crane being used to recover the cosmonauts from the sea started moving.

All at once, the only sounds to be heard on deck were those of the ship and its crew.  A hush had fallen over the press group, and it seemed to Collins that almost everyone was holding their breaths.  He himself was aware of each passing second, and every one felt like an eternity.  Finally, the slightly scorched command module of Atlas 9 came up over the side of the ship.  The crane set it down gently, and then detached.  There was silence for what was probably only a few seconds, but it felt to Collins like it was about an hour and a half.  Then the hatch on the side of the module opened, and everybody on the flight deck cheered as the three brave cosmonauts of Atlas 9 clambered out of the spacecraft to which they had been confined for most of the last eight days.

Anderson emerged first, followed by Foster.  Travers came last, lingering for a moment before following his crewmates into the sunlight.  King Michael bounced forward immediately to greet them each individually with a firm handshake and words of congratulations that Collins couldn't hear.

It was while the king was speaking to Foster that Collins suddenly realized that Travers was striding right in his direction, a mischievous gleam in his eye.  The cosmonaut barreled right into him and gave him a bear hug that lifted his feet off the deck for a split-second.  Then Anderson was there as well, giving Collins a similar, though less exuberant, embrace.  Foster disentangled himself from the king in order to join in shortly thereafter.  Now bright red, Collins was surprised once again when Anderson grabbed his wrist, spun him around, and started shouting at the assembled reporters with Collins' hand held high in the air.

"This man, Mackenzie Collins, is the reason Tytor was able to reach the moon!" he declared at the top of his lungs, "Mr. Collins is, however, a humble man, and he would be perfectly happy to let us cosmonauts take all the credit!  Do not let him do that!  He deserves much more praise for his part in the Atlas program than we do for ours!"

"He was the first one to even realize that we could make this work!" Travers joined in, stepping up next to Anderson, "He brought Project Atlas out of retirement and set his sight on the moon!  If he decides that resuming Project Challenger is for the best, then we can trust him!  If he decides that landing a man on Nergal is the best course of action, then we can trust him!  If he decides that landing a man on the sun is a good idea, then, by golly, we can trust him!"

"Ladies and gentlemen of the press, Mackenzie Collins is the greatest administrator this country's space program has ever known, and that's a fact!" Foster put in loudly from Collins' other side, "The only two people to whom credit belongs for the successful completion of this mission are God Almighty and Mackenzie Collins!"

Collins realized at that moment that all his heartache and worry had, in fact, been worth it.  It was a good feeling.

Tytor:
Common Sense
TBS Studio, Tsargrad
June 12th, 2019
12:25 PM

Prince Harold adjusted his tie one last time before opening the door.  True, he could easily have had a valet do it, but he was trying to give the people a good impression.  So, he opened the door himself.

The reporter stood up respectfully as he entered the room.  Harold scowled slightly.

"Sit down, Mr. Fowler, please," he said, "Right now, I'm just a regular person running for Parliament.  There's no need to be so formal."

Fowler nodded and resumed his seat.  Harold sat across from him, and the two exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes.  Finally the cameraman spoke up.

"All right," he said, glancing at a digital clock below the camera's screen, "We're on the air in five, four, three--"  He held up two fingers, lowered one, then pointed off to the side of the set.  The news show's intro music began.

"Good afternoon, everyone, and welcome to One on One," Fowler said when it ended.  Harold noticed a little red light on the camera had activated.  "I'm Will Fowler, joined today by the royal family's Prince Harold.  As His Majesty's younger twin brother, Prince Harold has made headlines recently with his unexpected run for the House of Commons on the Conservative Party's ticket.  Despite, or, perhaps, because of, the novelty of the situation, he has led in each poll of his district's constituents."

Fowler turned his attention from he camera to Prince Harold.  "Thank you for being willing to meet with me," the reporter said with sincerity in his voice, "I'm really excited for this interview."

"You're most certainly welcome," Harold replied easily, "It's good to be with you."

"I appreciate that," Fowler said with a smile, "So, to begin, no member of the royal family has ever sought elected office like this before.  What made you decide to run for Parliament?"

Harold pretended to contemplate the question for a moment.  He'd known it was coming, and he had an answer prepared.  "Well, you see," he said after a sufficiently dramatic pause, "Growing up I'd always admired those old folks who got together in that big old building by Forrest Park, bickering and arguing but still managing to pass stuff anyway.  I'd always wanted to be like them.  Then, one afternoon last year, I looked in the mirror and realized I was finally old myself, and ever since then I've just been waiting for an opportunity."

"Really?" Fowler asked.

Harold grinned.  He couldn't help it; the look on the reporter's face was priceless.  "Nah, I'm just kidding," he said, waving one hand semi-dismissively, "I've been paying attention to the issues on debate recently, and I feel like this country really needs a good solid shot of common sense.  There's so much we could be doing--that we should be doing--that we aren't doing.  I hope to be able to help this country get back on track; back to the standards and principles of compassionate government that have brought us so far in this modern global society."

Fowler evidently had enough dignity to only look slightly chagrined.  "And you feel that you are the right person to help make that change happen?" he asked, studiously ignoring the quiet sniggering that could be faintly heard coming from the technical crew.

"Yes, I do," Harold responded promptly, "We'll see if the voters agree with me come election time."

"I see," Fowler said, "Could you elaborate a little bit on the changes you want to see happen?"

"Certainly," Harold said slowly, gathering his thoughts, "For one thing, I think that Parliament has recently been relying too much on what the world defines as a progressive modern society rather than taking a good serious look at what's best for this country and this people.  Now, don't get me wrong; I'm not being isolationistic or proposing anti-globalist policies.  No, nothing like that.  We live in a global society, and I think that's a good thing; it helps keep nations accountable.  But when the international community is advocating so-called reforms that run contrary to our moral values, or even pushing for inaction when action is required, then we need to choose to make a stand, even if it means that we stand alone."

Fowler frowned slightly.  "Might it be a little dangerous to abandon Tytor's partnerships and commitments?" he asked.

"Oh, that's not what I'm proposing," Harold said, smiling unconcernedly, "As I said, we live in a global community now, and we'll never again be able to do without allies and international treaties.  But when there are those who make friendship conditional upon their idea of how we Tytorians should run our nation, then perhaps we need to reconsider being friends with them."

"Are you referring to a particular nation or group?" Fowler asked curiously.

"No, not really," Harold replied, "I simply think that this country needs to be careful.  You could, after all, make the argument that the world remains a dangerous place."

"You most certainly could, yes," Fowler agreed, "What with nuclear weapons tests, saber rattling, and other such developments, many observers are calling this period one of the world's most dangerous yet.  What do you believe the Tytorian government ought to do about it?"

"That's an excellent question, Will," Harold said, using the time to consider his answer, "I think it depends on the situation.  I am, of course, just as committed to seeing Mundus become conflict-free as anyone else, but at times the best response to the threat of force is to call the aggressor's bluff, so to speak.  Many times throughout history, wars or other crises have been averted simply by making the stakes higher than the other side is willing to face."

"Do you see Tytor playing that role in future?" Fowler queried.

"Perhaps," Harold said carefully, "At the moment, I would say no, however.  The international community commonly fails to take us seriously; we're often seen as just another Rokkenjiman lackey--their feelings, not mine.  There seems to be very little respect for our role in the world.  Case in point, Tytor was recently left completely out of a comparative study of hard and soft power in the global arena; whether intentional or an oversight, it certainly throws Tytor's worldwide influence into serious question."

"I see your point," Fowler said ruefully, "Now, one more question, and then we're out of time.  In the ongoing crisis with Slava Lavosk, the government has taken a hard-line stance in backing up a proposed Rokkenjiman blockade with Tytorian warships.  Some in your party, along with more in the larger Conservative Alliance, have denounced this action as 'provocative' or 'irresponsible'.  What is your take on the situation?"

"It's certainly complicated, I'll give you that," Harold responded, contemplating his reply, "I would say that, given the timing of the developments, the Prime Minister was right to act quickly in support of our allies.  Does that mean that Tytor should follow through with the blockade?  I don't know yet; there's a lot of information that we don't have.  Other nations have been quick to rush to judgment, denouncing the blockade plans as 'illegal', but there is no international treaty of which I am aware, and certainly none that Tytor has ratified, which forbids blockades as a legitimate response to foreign aggression.  I note also that Slava Lavosk, particularly their current administration, has a horrendous human rights record--not exactly the kind of regime we can trust with nuclear weaponry."  He paused for a moment before continuing.  "There was a time, and it wasn't all that long ago, when these tests would have resulted in global sanctions and near-universal condemnation.  Now, however, most nations are content to merely look passively on while condemnation comes not to the aggressor but to those who act in response.  We must not stand idly by while dictators and madmen destroy the peace we have so narrowly won."

"Well," Fowler said once Harold had finished, "That about does it for our time here today.  Thank you once again, Your Highness, for consenting to appear on our show.  And folks, thank you for tuning in.  We'll be back after the break with Shelby Forthright, Speaker of Floodwater's People's Assembly, to discuss a recent initiative aimed at countering the effects of global warming on the island's famous coral reefs.  This has been One on One."

The little red light went out, marking the beginning of the commercial break.  Harold stood up and shook hands with Fowler, then left the studio, waving to the rest of the crew as he went.  He had a byelection to win.

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