Back to the Moon-ARC

Chapter 21

Astronauts Bill Stetson and Anthony Chow were swiftly and accurately stepping through procedures and checking off items on their checklists. Their Orion space capsule sat roughly thirty stories atop more than a million pounds of highly explosive ammonium perchlorate composite propellant and another fairly large volume of liquid oxygen and liquid hydrogen. If things were to go awry, there would be plenty of fuel for that fire. But Bill and Tony were far too busy to ponder the ramifications of such an unlikely event when the solid rocket motors of the Ares I first stage ignited. Unlike the space shuttle, which sat lazily on the launch pad for the first few seconds after igniting its main engines, the Ares I leapt off the pad, the resulting acceleration pushing the two men solidly into their couches with more force than that experienced on any other human-rated rocket.

Selected for safety and not comfort, using solid rocket motors for a rocket carrying people had been controversial from the beginning. Many astronauts, including Stetson, had been skeptical. Unlike a liquid-fueled rocket, a solid-fueled rocket could not be shut off once lit. A solid rocket motor would burn until it ran out of fuel. And it was precisely because of this that the Von Braun team had designed the Saturn V rocket with liquid-fueled engines and refused to use solid rocket motors. But, being beholden to data, Stetson eventually became a fan of the approach when he reviewed the reports showing that solid rocket motors failed far less often than their liquid motor counterparts.

“T minus four minutes and holding.” The voice of the launch director sounded deadpan and emotionless over the intercom, on television, radios, and inside Bill’s helmet speakers. “This is a scheduled twenty-minute built-in hold. The countdown clock will resume in nineteen minutes and forty-seven seconds from now.”

“Getting close, Tony!” Bill couldn’t hide his excitement. “Put your game face on, buddy.”

“Damn close, and put me in coach!” Tony replied then keyed the com after looking at his checklist. “Launch control, we are starting the interior launch cameras and telemetry recorders.”

“Roger that, Mercy I. Be advised that we’ve got launch weather verification, and it looks like all is go at this point.”

“Control.” Stetson added his checklist items to the conversation. “The launch computer is showing green and is configured for launch.” Bill thought about the action taking place back in the launch control center or LCC. The director was probably polling the various console drivers to see if they were ready to continue with the launch. Were Bill a fly on the wall, he would have heard a query of “Launch Authority Team go, no-go?” Which would usually be followed by “Go for launch.” And then “Guidance and Control go, no-go?” “Go for launch!” And the process would continue through all the Ares 1 launch systems until the launch director was assured that, indeed, the Ares 1 launch vehicle was cleared to leave Earth.

“Launch control shows first-stage igniter heater power removed. Mercy I, please verify.”

“Uh, roger that, launch control. We show green light on first-stage igniter heater breakers,” Stetson replied. Bill and Tony responded to what seemed like an endless list of items to be checked until the twenty-minute hold was complete. Finally, the word was given.

“This is launch control. We have final launch status verification and are now resuming the countdown. Start the clock now at T minus four minutes and counting.”

“Roger that, control. Mercy I shows flight-termination system and solid rocket motors are armed.” Bill looked over at his colleague and flashed him a grin. “We’re almost there now!”

“Let’s go, let’s go!” Tony replied.

“T minus one minute and forty seconds. We show the rocket’s flight-control system is enabled for launch. Mercy I, please verify.”

“Flight-control system is green.” Tony tapped the green icon on his computer screen to verify. At that moment the flight-control system software switched the entire flight-control system from land power over to internal rocket systems power and started counting off seconds to ignition.

“T minus one minute and counting.”

“We ready, Tony?”

“A-OK, Bill.”

“Roger that.” Bill tapped another icon on his checklist. “Auxiliary power units are running, and Mercy I shows solid rocket motor thrust vector control gimbal test is good.”

“T minus eighteen seconds. Ignition and hold-down bolts are armed and ready. We have sound suppression active and launcher flood is initiated.”

“Roger that, control.” Stetson pushed his body into his couch as best he could, preparing for the upcoming thrust.

“Launch inhibits are removed and vehicle is armed. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, ignition!”

Bill and Tony held on and tried not to grit their teeth.

“We have liftoff! Start the clock as Mercy I clears the tower for America’s return to the Moon!” The launch director’s voice sounded excited and enthusiastic for a brief moment.

NASA was through simply sending astronauts around and around the Earth. It was finished sending only robots to explore beyond low Earth orbit. Americans were going into space, and they were on their way to the Moon.

As the Ares I cleared the launch tower, it began its ascent into Earth orbit, and its characteristic vibrations began shaking the teeth of the two astronauts perched on top. During its design, engineers had discovered that the vibrations caused by the firing of the solid rocket motors would be jarring enough to cause brain damage in its passengers. After considerable effort, a system was devised to dampen the vibrations, making them merely annoying rather than lethal. To those riding on the beast, the difference was a matter of academic debate.

The solid rocket motors had just burned out when eighteen mini-explosions occurred—jarring the veritable heck out of the astronauts and causing them to fall forward into their chairs. The explosive bolts connecting the rocket’s first stage with its second stage had just fired. And the sequence was just as violent, as exciting, and as exhilarating as Bill had remembered from his previous two flights. Though still exciting, to Bill it was just another day at the office. To Tony, on the other hand, who had only participated in simulation flights thus far, it was all new and very scary. Very. Scary.

“Hang on there, Tony,” Bill said. “Second-stage engines are about to kick in, and it is a kick in the pants!”

“I’m hanging!” Chow shouted back—welcoming the pause in the nerve-wracking launch vibrations.

“Going for second-stage ignition,” Stetson radioed to mission control. The liquid engines of the second stage of the Ares I rocket fired, again forcing both Stetson and Chow back into their chairs at well over three gravities. There was very little piloting to be done in this phase of the flight. The computer controlled everything. Stetson monitored all the instruments just in case he disagreed with the computer and had to take over control. He was prepared, thanks to countless hours of training. But such an event was extremely unlikely. Bill kept an eye out anyway.

“Roger that, Mercy I. Telemetry shows second-stage ignition is good,” mission control replied. Mercy I was the name given to the mission in the hours before launch. Rescuing the trapped Chinese would someday be considered to be the most technologically complex act of mercy in human history. It was likely the most risky and failure prone as well.

“What an incredible view,” Chow exclaimed as he peered out the window to his right.

“I know it’s a great view, Tony, but you will have time for sightseeing later. Let’s keep an eye on the control panels. You and I are covering for Charles and Helen, and we’ve got to make sure we don’t miss anything,” Bill scolded the rookie astronaut. Though they were thoroughly cross-trained in the years prior to the flight, neither had really expected to be flying to the Moon performing the duties of their missing colleagues in addition to their own.

“Roger that” was all Chow could muster in response. Bill made a mental note to keep an eye over Tony’s shoulder for the time being until he was certain he was going to be good to go. Just another precautionary measure.

The second stage of the Ares I lifted the Orion capsule into a circular orbit just above two hundred and fifty miles high. At that point, the second-stage separation pyrotechnics fired, blasting the liquid hydrogen and oxygen tanks away and allowing them to fall back to Earth and burn up on reentry. All that was left of the Ares I was the Orion spaceship and its two occupants. Thanks to the successful launch of the Ares V rocket, they were on track to rendezvous with the Earth Departure Stage carrying the lunar lander. After that, they would be on their way out of Earth orbit and moving toward the Moon.

Stetson had practiced the rendezvous with the lander several times in the last few days and thousands of times over the last few months. In about four orbits it would be showtime. Ignoring his own admonition, Stetson peered out the window to gaze on the beautiful blue planet beneath him. Scanning the surface to find a recognizable reference point, he quickly realized they were approaching the east coast of Africa and the Indian Ocean.

I never get tired of this, he thought to himself as he snapped out of his reverie and back into the reality of flying a spacecraft traveling at five miles each second. At these speeds, errors could be fatal and unforgiving. And he could not forget the error that had occurred in this stage of the mission during the test flight.

Four orbits passed a lot faster than Bill had expected. It seemed only moments ago that they were on the launchpad and now the LIDAR was beeping away at the Altair lander recently launched by the mighty Ares V rocket. NASA had come a long way from launching rockets separated in time by at least a month or more to doing it with only hours or days in between. Designing for relative simplicity had helped a lot.

“Houston, we have LIDAR confirmation that the range to target is twenty-five hundred meters and closing,” Bill reported. “I am disengaging the automated rendezvous and docking system now.”

“Mercy I, please repeat,” said the monotone voice of the mission controller in faraway Houston, Texas.

“I said, I am disengaging the AR and D system and proceeding with a manual docking.” Though choosing to turn off the automated rendezvous and docking system was within his purview as commander and pilot of the flight, it was still unusual to do so in the absence of any sort of in-flight anomaly or failure. To Stetson, the failure that had caused him to assume command of the rendezvous during the test flight was reason enough to take control now. Besides, what were they going to do about it? Abort and ask him to come home? Not likely.

“Roger that, Mercy I. We understand that you are proceeding with a manual docking. There are some curious folks down here who want to know why. I’m sure you’ll fill them in.”

“Will do, Houston,” Stetson confirmed.

“All right, Bill, show me how a real astronaut flies a spaceship.” Chow smiled, not at all worried that his colleague and friend might screw up as they moved around the Earth every ninety minutes or so, waiting to collide—dock—with the rest of their lunar-exploration vehicle.

“Just hold on, Tony. Help me keep an eye on that delta-vee,” Bill replied matter-of-factly. “Two thousand meters to target,” Bill said.

“Relative velocity one hundred meters per second,” Chow told his pilot.

Stetson fired the forward thrusters to reduce the relative velocity between the vehicles. Stetson’s actions were just like in the robotic mission weeks earlier, but this time there was no obvious failure. He had done it then, and, in his mind at least, he was sure to do it again. This was what Bill was born to do.

Stetson again fired the thrusters to slow the Orion. Like the previous firings, inside the capsule they heard the BANG BANG of the thrusters. The sound was loud and annoying, but also comforting. For Stetson, it was the sound of him being in control. And he liked being in control.

“One hundred and fifty meters to target,” Chow said.

“One hundred meters.”

“Twenty-five meters.”

They both felt the bump as the Orion successfully mated with the Altair, making Mercy I a complete spacecraft. To Stetson, the resulting silence was deafening. His adrenaline was still pumping. Beads of perspiration were evident on his brow, and his ground-based physician was certainly monitoring his now-declining heart rate.

“Houston, this is Mercy I. We’re docked and beginning the Earth departure checklist.” Stetson was not about to take a break or relax while lives on the Moon were depending upon him.

“Tony, pull up the Earth departure checklist and let’s get started.”

“Roger that.” Chow smiled, himself not completely relaxed, and replied in his most professional voice for the benefit of all those listening to the exchange back on Earth.