Back to the Moon-ARC

Chapter 18

The obscenely cheery voice of the news announcer blared from the alarm clock at exactly 5:00 a.m. the next morning, awakening Stetson from the three hours of sleep he had allowed himself the night before. “Good morning, Space Coast! It’s time to get that pot of coffee brewing and for your five-day forecast.”

Stetson groaned, rolled over, and quickly turned down the volume on the old-fashioned clock radio beside his bed. He’d been up until almost two o’clock meeting with Menendez, Chow, and Leonard, as well as a hastily assembled team of engineers from three NASA field centers. They were discussing all the options that might allow for a rescue of the stranded Chinese. In the course of the discussion, they had narrowed their choices to two: one with Stetson and Chow aboard and one totally robotic. Stetson had been emphatic about needing humans on board and in the loop. The NASA director had insisted it be a minimum two-man mission. So, Bill felt it only made sense that a rescue mission should have a medical doctor along for the ride. The decision was clear then that Anthony Chow, M.D., should be the crew member that joined him.

The engineers and bureaucrats at Marshall and Kennedy favored the robotic mission. There was less risk of losing a manned crew, and it was completely boring and unimaginative. Bill had argued until he was blue in the face that robots couldn’t think on their feet, and with a potential communications delay of two or more seconds, that could be disastrous. It was clear that Stetson and his colleagues at the Johnson Space Center emphatically favored the manned mission.

Stetson had gone around and around with the engineers and was insistent that a person needed to be on board just in case something went wrong that only a person could fix. The counterargument favored not sending a person so as to allow one additional stranded Chinese crew member to return home without any modification to the Altair. It was too late to modify the spaceship now, since it was already packed away in the Ares V rocket on the launchpad. Any mods would have to take place either along the way or once they landed on the lunar surface. That was something robots could not do.

In Stetson’s opinion, the discussion was somewhat moot, because they didn’t know how many people were alive on the Moon. And what if medical attention could increase the number of survivors that made it home? And what if the Chinese survivors bumped the wrong control panel or accidentally changed some of the ship’s control settings? What if? No, there were just too many “what ifs” to let the mission go without one or more of its intended crew members on board.

And without knowing how many, if any, of these “what ifs” would rear their ugly heads, how could anyone say having the ship fly up there robotically would make any sense at all? All the arguments for or against didn’t matter anyway until safety signed off on it. Whatever the astronaut office said about mission success and mission safety was always considered to be the last word. If they said it was unsafe, then it was unsafe and would not fly. The converse was also true. And Stetson knew the rules of this game. He just had to make certain to convince them that it was safe and should fly.

As Stetson rushed through his morning routine and prepared to get his usual hot shower, he cranked up the volume on the radio and tuned it to a news station so he could keep one ear tuned in just in case. His interest and patience were soon rewarded.

“—And, in an unexpected turn of events, the Chinese government announced late last night that the astronauts on the Moon are, in fact, Chinese. The Chinese foreign minister made the announcement in a press conference while attending the World Energy Summit in Australia.”

A man’s voice, speaking Chinese, then came over the radio, followed seconds later by an English translation. “The four brave crew members of the moon ship Harmony are the pride of China. Our thoughts go out to their families as these heroes spend their last days making the ultimate sacrifice for their country.”

“Joining us now is Eric Harris, author of many books about space and space exploration, and an aerospace consultant. Good morning, Mr. Harris. What can you tell us about the fate that awaits the Chinese astronauts? And is there anything we here on Earth can do to help them?”

Stetson stood outside his shower, the water not yet on, listening intently. He now knew that there were four people on the Moon to be rescued. Without any modification, the Altair could bring home a crew of four—him, Chow, and two of the Chinese. He was certain that enough weight could be off-loaded to allow another person aboard. Getting more than that on the ascent stage, that part of the rocket that would lift off from the lunar surface and take the astronauts back into space, would be a bit harder—but not impossible. No, he was sure they could come back with all four—though it would be tight. The radio program continued, this time with the self-proclaimed space expert, Eric Harris.

“Their fate is bleak. If they don’t lose electrical power, which they shouldn’t, since their lander has both solar arrays and hydrogen fuel cells, then they won’t bake or freeze before their air runs out. Contrary to what you see in the movies, death by asphyxiation is fairly quick. In the absence of sufficient oxygen, people act normally until, and with no warning, they simply feel dizzy and then black out in a matter of seconds.”

“Sounds gruesome,” the newscaster commented.

“Well, yes. But at least it is quick. Well, in their case, not so quick, since they know it is coming.”

“What about a rescue? Have the Chinese said anything about mounting a rescue mission?”

“No. A Chinese rescue is out of the question. They simply don’t have the hardware—the rocket, the spaceship that takes them from the Earth to the Moon, the lander, and all that gear—they simply don’t have spares ready to be launched on such short notice. They might be able to get something up in a couple of months, but by that time it will be a mission to bring home the bodies, not a rescue mission.”

“I see. What a horrible situation.” The newsman sounded ill.

“Yes, a bad situation,” Harris continued. “But NASA might be able to do something. They have a rocket on the pad and are already scheduled to launch to the Moon in just a few days. It might be possible for them to rescue at least part of the crew. I certainly hope someone at the space agency is looking into it.”

“Don’t we all,” said the newscaster. “And now, for all the sports action from last night. Boston looks like it’s on its way to yet another victory in the—”

At this point, Stetson turned off the radio. Racing through his mind was what he was going to tell the NASA Administrator when they spoke in just a few hours. He was glad that the public, or at least the space wonks, were already talking about a possible rescue. That would mean the politicians would be less likely to nix the idea.

“We’re going to bring those people home,” he said aloud. “They’re not going to die. Even if the SOBs deserve to die for beating me to the Moon.”

The telecon began promptly at 8:00 a.m. On the line were Stetson and his crew, the NASA Administrator, the Associate Administrator for Space Flight, NASA’s Chief Engineer, the Director of NASA’s Safety and Mission Assurance, and a horde of bureaucrats who had either contributed something to the quick feasibility assessment or thought that they should have.

Stetson began by recounting his plan for the benefit of those hearing it for the first time. He described why the mission must have a trained crew aboard and why that crew must consist of Anthony Chow, M.D., and himself. He emphasized the M.D. part.

“Hold on just a minute.” Administrator Ross confronted him bluntly. “Bill, if I were to tell the Vice President this morning that we can do this, can we really do it? Are you willing to bet your career on it? Or your life, for that matter. Because if we tell him that we can, then he’ll ask the President to call the Chinese and make the offer. At that point, we’re committed. And if we don’t save those people, then your career, my career, and the future of our own lunar program might be toast.”

“Calvin, I know we can do this. I’ve looked at the numbers, and I can bring back all four with me. It’ll be a little crowded, and the air might be a little stale by the time we get home, but we can do it.” Stetson held his emotions in check as much as he could, which was very little.

“And, sir, I’d like to add that there is a moral obligation here as well,” Chow said. The Administrator didn’t seem to have any response, but he did make a facial expression that suggested he didn’t appreciate Chow’s comment.

“Let’s keep this on a technical-feasibility level,” the NASA Chief Engineer, Tom Rowan, replied. “Calvin, I had a team looking at the numbers last night in parallel with Bill and his team. We agree with everything except for the reentry. We agree with his estimate of the propellant budget for getting Altair back into space and for getting Orion on a trajectory to bring it home—we ought to be able to off-load enough equipment plus some exterior panels to offset the extra weight of two more people for the Trans-Earth Injection burn. But we don’t believe we can get you all safely to touchdown. We can cram everyone in the capsule, but it will simply weigh too much. We don’t believe you can survive reentry and touchdown. Now, if we were landing in the ocean like we used to do, maybe, but that is still up for debate and moot. The capsule doesn’t have flotation systems on it, since we’re going to land on the ground like the Russians do. ”

“Could they bail out at high altitude and parachute to safety?” another engineer in the room asked.

“Unlikely they would be in the right physical and mental state to accomplish such a thing. Who knows what kind of shape they’ll be in when we find them?” the NASA Chief Engineer said.

“Wait.” Stetson stopped them. “We don’t have to bring them all down.”

“What?” Ross asked.

“We won’t all have to reenter in Orion. The plan we came up with last night is to transfer two or all of the Chinese passengers to the International Space Station before we come home.”

If their microphones hadn’t been muted, Stetson was sure he would have heard several engineers listening on the line pass out in their seats.

“Look. We’re supposed to do a direct entry when we come home from the Moon in Orion. We leave the Moon and come screaming home, going directly into the Earth’s atmosphere, using the atmospheric friction to slow down enough to pop our parachutes and get us to a dead stop. But we don’t have to.”

“Huh?” Ross’s voice on the speakerphone sounded perplexed. “I don’t understand.”

“Just like in Apollo, we’ve designed Orion with a safe-abort maneuver in case something goes wrong on the trip home and the ship cannot reenter immediately. It’s called aerocapture. We’ve never done it, but it should be relatively easy to do. Apollo was designed to do it, and so are we.”

“Wait, wait, Bill.” Ross, with a little agitation now apparent in his response, said again, “I don’t understand.”

“Of course.” This time, Rowan answered the question. “Aerocapture. Instead of coming straight into the atmosphere and landing, with aerocapture you skim into the upper atmosphere just enough to slow down and enter orbit. It’s sort of like skimming a rock on the surface of a pond. The capsule will dip into the atmosphere to slow it just enough to enter orbit. It can fire its retrorockets later to de-orbit and come home. But how will you get to the Space Station? It is at the wrong inclination.”

“We thought of that,” Bill said. “With aerocapture you can slow down and change your orbital inclination. We can aerocapture into an orbit that matches up with the station. Orion’s been used to take astronauts to the station since the late teens. The docking hardware we use to mate with the lunar lander is the same hardware that is used when Orion carries astronauts to the station. We aerocapture, dock with the station, off-load our extra passengers, and then come home. I’ve got some engineers at Langley plotting the aerocapture maneuver right now.”

“That leaves one big question,” a nameless voice from among those listening on the telecon interjected. “How do they get home? The ones on the station, I mean.”

“Well,” said Stetson, “I haven’t figured that one out yet. But there’s plenty of air and water on the space station to keep them comfortable until we do.”

“And, if some of them need medical attention, then they can come down in Orion. In that case, Bill and I will stay on ISS,” Anthony Chow added. Bill liked the comment because it showed they had options.

The ten-second silence that followed seemed like an eternity to Bill Stetson. He’d given it his best shot, and now it was up to the NASA Administrator to give it a thumbs-up or thumbs-down.

“Bill, okay. I’ll tell the Vice President that we can do it. Make it happen.”

If this had been a videoconference, Bill Stetson might not have smiled. But since he was only in the presence of his friends and crewmates, that big Texas grin was painted from ear to ear.

“Yes, sir!” came through loud and clear.

Minutes later, the crew broke quarantine to meet face-to-face with the lead engineers who were going to make what modifications could be done on the launchpad, with only two days remaining until launch. And they had to go to the Altair simulator and practice taking it apart in spacesuits. The engineers had to have some specialty tools rapidly prototyped during the process. Fortunately, NASA astronauts and engineers had been learning how to do maintenance and construction in space for the last two decades as they had built the ISS and maintained it. Kluging tools for new jobs was old hat for them.

Gary Childers wanted to break the news to Gesling and his customers personally. He heard the news of the planned NASA rescue while he was at his desk, perusing once again the sponsorship agreements that would allow him to begin building his own lunar lander.

The media had been talking about a special announcement from the President being forthcoming, and when it was finally on the television, Gary Childers was watching.

The President, looking calm and in control as he did when he spoke to the nation about his plans for fixing the looming fiscal crisis, stood in front of the lectern in the White House briefing room with NASA Administrator Ross at his side.

He said, “I spoke directly with the President of China and made the offer to have NASA’s upcoming flight to the Moon be a rescue mission. He accepted our offer, and now we, and the world, need to pray for the stranded astronauts and for the success of our planned rescue attempt. I’m going to turn it over to Mr. Calvin Ross, Administrator of NASA, to provide the details.”

Childers listened to enough of the details to get at least some understanding of what was planned and then keyed in the access code on his workstation that would allow him to speak directly with the Dreamscape.

“Paul. This is Gary. How are things up there?” Childers asked.

“Mr. Childers. Thanks for asking. I think your passengers are having the time of their lives—or they would be, if they weren’t thinking about those trapped Chinese astronauts. It’s a mixture of elation and sadness up here. But I don’t believe anyone will ask for a refund.” Gesling sounded like he was trying to put the best possible face on what had become of their interplanetary vacation.

“Well, put me on the speaker. I have news.”

“Go ahead.”

“Hello!” Gary Childers greeted his customers, still about a hundred thousand miles from home. “I have good news. NASA is going to attempt to rescue the stranded Chinese astronauts that you found on your trip. It sounds risky, and it may not be successful, but if it weren’t for you and the flight of the Dreamscape, these people would surely be dead and their deaths unknown until some future explorers found their bodies. The Chinese and the world owe you a word of thanks. Your vacation may have just saved the lives of four astronauts.”

“Gary, thanks for telling us. You’ve got six smiling faces up here.”

“Tell them I’m smiling, too. See you soon,” Childers said.

Gary leaned back in his chair. He meant every damned word of what he’d said. He had just gotten the best publicity anyone could have imagined and perhaps saved some lives to boot. With that, Gary Childers was both a happy businessman and an elated human being. And he did have a big smile on his face to prove it.