Minus Ten and Counting 08 - The Ballad of Apollo XIII [HQ]

Thanks to rocketman0739 for providing high-quality versions of these songs. Download the album here: https://archive.org/details/filk_minu... Find more of Julia Ecklar's excellent music at: https://www.prometheus-music.com/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Lyrics: There's legends galore in the pulp SF lore About shipwrecks of spacecraft a-spacing When meteor holes come 'tween men and their goals By demolishing ships that they're racing Painting pictures with words like none you've ever heard, SF writers made frightening predictions. But the terrors they tell cannot equal the hell Faced by three men in fact, and not fiction. To April 11, 1970, now We must let our narrative carry us. Three men in a CSM named Odyssey; Beneath them, the LM named Aquarius. With a furious roar, Saturn leapt for the sky With Jack Swigert, Fred Haise, and Jim Lovell Toward a planned rendervous that would never come true With the grey lunar gravel and rubble. Still, they set up housekeeping in orbit 'round Earth And translunar insertion was kindled But the public just yawned, for this landing was third, And behind them old Terra slow dwindled. Apollo XIII traveled on down the track Laid down by the three laws of Newton. At fifty-six hours into lunar-bound coast Lovell said, "Houston, we have a problem." Now, they might have been struck by a meteorite; Maybe something had just overloaded. But their panels went red with their malfunction lights And in Odyssey something exploded. That blast blocked or ruptured their fuel cell lines; Their electrical energy faltered. With no hope at all of a rescue in time, Thirteen's mission profile had just altered. To physics and God they commended their lives For no power on Earth now could save them Although NASA let the men talk with their wives, Of goodbyes there was never a mention. Three men in a CSM bound for the Moon Reached two hundred and six thousand miles. Did they have enough air to get all the way there? Could they trust what they read on their dials? And when they reached Luna, could they change course for home? Would she trap them, or loose them at random? Untested advice and contingency plans Were the only things NASA could hand them. When Apollo XIII crossed the limb of the Moon And death came from the receivers We knew the next signal would speak of their doom Or answer the faith of believers. "Apollo Thirteen, this is Houston. Do you read?" Dear God, let them answer us quickly. The world held its breath, and in Mission Control Every screen lit a face pale and sickly. "Apollo Thirteen, this is Houston. Do you read?" That empty sound stretched on for years. "Houston...This is Thirteen...We're coming home!" said a voice, And the world found relief in its tears. At T plus one hundread and thirty-eight hours They jettisoned Odyssey's wreckage. That module was shattered and blasted apart— A symbol of death in the space age. Aquarius served as their lifeboat to shore, Till they knew they would no longer need her. At T plus one hundred and forty-one hours, With a deep prayer of "Thank you!" they freed her. Ed, Roger, and Gus must have smiled on those days, Knowing theirs was the path not to follow. But their souls were with Swigert and Lovell and Haise Riding home on the thirteenth Apollo. At T plus one hundred forty-three, fifty-four Apollo XIII hit the waters. Three men returned home, shaken up, but alive, To their wives and their sons and their daughters! There's legends galore in the pulp SF lore About shipwrecks of spacecraft a-spacing But all of them now do cause men to reflect On three days when the world's heart went racing Painting pictures with words all too few people heard, SF writers could make their predictions, But always recall that, in spite of them all, The truth was much greater than fiction. Yes, always recall that, in spite of them all, The truth must be greater than fiction.