The Launch was Flawless… but Peregrine had trouble and will NOT be landing on the Moon
(nor our Writers on the Moon payload)

If you didn’t follow the launch on Discord or the follow-up in the FB Group, you missed an Apollo 13-like nail-biter where the mission went wrong, propulsion was non-functional, they couldn’t orient to the sun and were quickly losing power… and then a mad scramble before losing communications managed to save orientation, and thus power, and bought Peregrine a second chance. But once the damaged propulsion systems were discovered, it became clear that Peregrine (and our Writers on the Moon payload) would not be reaching a soft-landing on the Moon.

PEREGRINE IS STILL HEADING TOWARD THE MOON.
The real question now is whether it will sail off into space forever or end up a crater on the lunar surface (I initially thought our MoonBox might survive, but not with the speed Peregrine has—and it has no fuel to slow it down).
WE’LL KNOW PEREGRINE’S FATE IN THE NEXT 24 HOURS.

THINGS ARE ROUGH AT ASTROBOTIC
As you may know, my husband is a moon rover designer at Astrobotic.
So I have an insider view of all the tremendous work and hopes and dreams that went into putting Peregrine into space. It was incredibly special to have our payload be part of all that daring greatly, and it’s heartbreaking for the Astrobots (and all the payloads) to not have the mission go to plan.
But it’s been wonderful to read all the messages of support from all over the world, including from inside our own Writers on the Moon group.
Just because the mission didn’t end the way everyone hoped, doesn’t mean it wasn’t a hell of a ride. And the ride matters—the connections, the people, the hopes and dreams, the daring of great things. ALL of that matters, deeply.
From one of our own who attended the launch in person:
I just got back to New Orleans. I’ve gotten about twelve hours of sleep over the span of three days.
First and foremost, my heart goes out to the Astrobotic team. My own concerns are so paltry compared to what they must be going through.
I don’t wish to detract from that gravitas. My husband greeted me at the door with a beer and a hug, saying, “You mean to tell me that it’s either going to go out into infinity or make its own crater? Win-win!” I think he was trying to cheer me, and it’s highly possible that I’m so sleep deprived, everything is hilarious when it really shouldn’t be. I might feel differently in the morning.
But I have so many other feelings that I’m sure won’t change. I have amazing memories of the people I met, the laughs we all shared, the stories I heard, and the things I learned. And then there was standing on the beach, capturing the moment with my phone, but watching the launch with my naked eyes. I saw my story (and everyone else’s) soar into space. I watched the flame turn from orange to blue…at one point, someone told me the exact moment at which the rocket had left the atmosphere. (I forgot to ask if there was a correlation with the color change.) And then it winked out of sight. No one can take these things from me. That long drive was absolutely worth it.
It’s only one person’s perspective, but it’s mine to share.
SHARE YOUR SUPPORT FOR ASTROBOTIC
Tomorrow morning, I will print out all your messages of support, pick up a BUNCH of donuts, and bring them into Astrobotic HQ. Trust me that the support of the community means a lot right now. We each have our own feelings to sort through, but I’m a firm believer that reaching out to support each other is not only the right thing to do and how we get through the hard times, it is, in fact, our superpower.
Feel free to support Astrobotic on Twitter or Instagram as well, but if you want to send a personal message that will get hand-delivered tomorrow (Wednessday 1/10, morning, Eastern time), then send it to me. I’ll make sure it gets there.

I’m taking a few days to rest up and process and look for options for WOTM and support Astrobotic. Thank you for being the wonderful people you are! It’s been an honor to be on this journey with you.
In Hope and Love,
Sue