Back to the Moon

by Travis S. Taylor

  “What the hell?” Stetson cursed before picking up his cell phone and calling Jim England. At first, he didn’t think his friend was going to answer. The phone had just started to roll over into voice mail when he heard the familiar Southern drawl of his colleague. “Yeah-us, hello?”

  “Jim, this is Bill. Did you hear about the Chinese launch? It’s on the ticker now.”

  “Yeah, I heard. I haven’t gotten anything through channels, only what I’ve seen on the Net. Looks like we’re going to beat ’em—but not by much. I doubt they can turn around another launch before you go. If they hadn’t decided to play it safe with a test, we’d be looking up at a Chinese Moon in a few days.”

  “Luck, all right. I really don’t like the idea of us being second to anyone in space, and this is all just too close for comfort. And can you believe that Senator Newsome? We’re not even on the Moon yet, and he tried to pull the rug out from under us. I wonder if he will say anything about the Chinese.” Stetson could barely contain himself. As he spoke, his voice grew louder and his posture stiffened.

  “Well, try not to let it get your goat, Bill.”

  “I’d like to get that senator’s goat and barbecue it. Maybe we should send him to China for a few years. That would teach him about how their politicians and people feel about space and space exploration. Over there the astronauts are treated like heroes and the public demands more of their space efforts, not less.”

  “Yeah. And I guess I have to give Ross credit for saving us on that one. Did you see his testimony in Congress? He really stepped up and made a compelling case for exploration—how could they have voted for that cut after they heard from him about all the technical benefits we’ll get from going to the Moon?”

  “Yeah,” Stetson reluctantly agreed. “You’re right, you know. I originally thought Ross was just another politician who didn’t give a rip about NASA. But he did come through for us. It was nice to see rationality win on that one.”

  “Bill, I’m gonna switch gears on you, buddy.”

  “Go.”

  “Space Excursions is launching next week—on Monday.”

  Stetson’s posture relaxed, and he leaned back in his chair. He had a lot of admiration for Space Excursions. They’d come out of nowhere and built an impressive system for taking tourists into space. And they’d done it all in about ten years. He didn’t know Gary Childers personally, but he respected him nonetheless. He thought to himself, That man is a leader. Why isn’t he running NASA? And then he answered himself. Because he makes a lot more money running his business than he would working for the government. This all happened too fast for England to notice that his friend’s thoughts had wandered.

  “Jim, I wish them all the best. The Chinese haven’t even sent anyone to fly by the Moon and an American company is about to go. That means not only NASA will beat them there. A bunch of lunatic, freewheeling, money-hungry capitalists will get there ahead of them, too! I’m all for it. God bless America!” Stetson said, very animated.

  “Bill, the press is all over this. You really need to read the blogs more often. They’re all about how this guy Childers is going to the Moon for a fraction of what it cost us—and the taxpayer—and how we should just turn over all of NASA to private industry.”

  “And, you know, sometimes I think they’re right. This whole thing has taken too long. We should have been there years ago!” Bill replied. Stetson could tell it was time for his friend to get agitated. These two had this discussion, or one very similar to it, at least five times a month. It wasn’t boring; they loved it. But before, it was just hypothetical. This time real people were about to fly in real rocket ships to the Moon. One ship was going to carry tourists on a joyride around the Moon. The other was going to carry scientists to its surface. And the latter was much more complicated, and expensive, than the former.

  “Jim, we’ve had this discussion before. What they’re doing is a piece of cake compared to going to the surface. You and I both know that. Don’t sell them short, though. It is still dangerous as all get-out.”

  “Bill, yes, we know that. But the public doesn’t!” England was emphatic. “Sometimes I wonder why we care so much.”

  Stetson was unprepared for that one, but it did ratchet down the emotion and the volume of the discussion. Everyone involved in the space business, government or private, had probably asked themselves that same question at one time or another. Some asked it many times. “Why do I care about it so much?” For Stetson, the answer was simple. Because it was there, and that meant that someone, and it might as well be him, needed to go “there” and explore.

  He knew how Childers would answer, if he’d been on the phone and asked the question. Stetson was confident that Childers would talk about how there was money to be made on the Moon and how he was going to be the one to make it.

  Not realizing he was mumbling out loud as his thoughts once again wandered, Stetson said, “You can’t argue with that.” He was, of course, talking about Childers’s likely motivation for going to the Moon, though England had no way of know that.

  “Huh? What’s that you said?” asked England.

  “It was nothing. Spaced out on you for a second. I wonder why we do care so much sometimes.”

  Gesling heard the news just after he crash-landed the Dreamscape in the Nevada desert. During this latest simulation, the vehicle experienced a complete loss of pressure during reentry, followed by a premature deployment of the landing gear—at twenty thousand feet. The result was a pretty messy landing, without gear, at the Nevada Spaceport. The passenger cabin remained in one piece, and the sensors indicated that at no time did the g-forces cross the line into “fatal.” If this had been real life, and not a simulation, Space Excursions would have been very glad they had a good team of lawyers.

  As Gesling extricated himself from the pilot’s chair, which was not an easy task for someone of his height, he heard the voice of Caroline O’Conner chatting on her cell phone just outside the Dreamscape simulator. She was fairly excited and asking whomever she was speaking with to e-mail her the complete details of whatever they were discussing. He liked Caroline, not in a romantic sort of way, but as a friend and overall decent person to be around. He always looked forward to spending more time with her. Perhaps he was beginning to enjoy her company too much.…

  “Paul!” He was roused from his musings by her voice calling his name. As he hesitated to respond, she raised her voice. “Paul! Over here! You’ll want to know about this.”

  Gesling was finally free of the harness holding him and his bulky pressure suit to the pilot’s chair. Though he couldn’t yet exit the simulator because of the numerous to-do items remaining on his checklist, he did motion for Caroline to step inside.

  “Hey, Caroline. What’s up?”

  “The Chinese just launched their complete lunar system. They’re conducting a robotic test run end-to-end. The news is saying this means they may be on the Moon within a couple of months.”

  “Are they flying a Dreamscape?” asked Gesling, sarcasm dripping from every word.

  “Ha!” O’Conner cocked her head backward and looked down her nose at Gesling, which was difficult since he was easily eight inches taller than she. “No, they aren’t yet flying a Dreamscape. But the Moon is going to be crowded these next few weeks. The Chinese test flight began today. We launch next week, and NASA is supposed to fly the week after that. We haven’t been to the Moon in half a century, and now everyone will be going—within a few weeks of each other. We couldn’t have planned it this way if we’d tried. Gary is gonna be ecstatic!”

  Gesling was hearing her words, but for some reason he was distracted by the way she raised her right eyebrow as she looked “down” at him in her best schoolteacher manner. It really accented her green eyes and high cheekbones. Before long, he wasn’t even hearing her words anymore.

  “…Lunar surface trips for Space Excursions.” Caroline paused, wondering why there had been no reaction from Paul. “Paul?
Are you in there?”

  “Oh, yeah, sorry about that. I was just thinking about the simulation,” he lied. “What did you say?”

  “Sometimes I wonder about you!” was her first reaction. She then said, “Gary told me this morning that he’s signed a deal with investors to begin our own lunar-landing effort. He’s going to announce it after you return from the Moon. I think he wants to tell you himself, so please don’t let on that I already told you.”

  Gesling was not totally surprised; he and Childers had spoken several times about what the next step would be for Space Excursions. He just hadn’t expected it to come so soon. He at first thought he should bolt to Childers’s office and give him every opportunity to break the news. Then he remembered the post-simulation checklist and procedures. But even that took second place to finishing the conversation with Caroline. Yes, he would definitely have to make more time for talking with her.

  The U.S. military took notice of what the Chinese were doing as well. Before the media knew of the launch, the U.S. Space Command was already on top of it. Headquartered at Peterson Air Force Base in Colorado, Space Command had been informed in advance of the Chinese plans and had the appropriate air and space assets in place to monitor all aspects of the launch and its early flight. Thanks to excellent human intelligence from within the China National Space Administration, American intelligence and the U.S. Space Command were watching as the Chinese version of the American Ares V lifted off from central China on its way to the Moon.

  Pictures taken from the Pentagon’s low Earth-orbit spacecraft could literally read the lettering on the side of the rocket as it passed on its way to Trans-Lunar Injection. Additional spacecraft in geostationary orbit were retargeted to make similar observations as the vehicle accelerated away from the Earth. The launch was flawless.

  The Chinese had opted for a lunar orbit rendezvous approach. Like Apollo, they were going to launch the entire vehicle, including the crew and the lunar lander, on one rocket. Unlike the United States, whose lunar missions would use two rockets, one for crew and the other for all the hardware required for reaching the Moon, the Chinese opted for just one. They had no International Space Station to service with the crew-launch vehicle, so the idea, and cost, of building two rockets was simply out of the question.

  To those monitoring the flight and listening to all the telemetry and voice chatter from the Chinese ground controllers, this seemed to be a full dress rehearsal for the real thing. As far as anyone could tell, the Chinese were treating this like a crewed launch and dotting all their i’s to make sure it went according to plan. Signals-intelligence stations were even picking up mock-up voice-data channels going back and forth between the ground and the rocket.

  As good as American intelligence was, they still could not decode in real time all of the telemetry coming back from the rocket. The encryption was too good, and it would take some time to decipher. The data was passed off to the supercomputer center at the National Security Agency with top priority for decryption. The code-breaker wizards there would figure it out soon enough. Unfortunately, it would not be deciphered for at least a week, because there was already a priority cipher in the queue—and a few surprises would have been avoided had they been able to decode it just a little bit faster.

  Before the press knew what was going on, appropriate phone calls were made to the White House and the Pentagon about the Chinese launch. Within an hour, Calvin Ross was aware of the flight and had called the manager of the NASA Public Affairs Office, asking him to be prepared to take the inevitable questions from the media. And once the story broke, the phone calls started coming in.

  In China, when the news broke, the public was euphoric. Spontaneous rallies broke out at China’s major engineering universities, with the students carrying homemade banners extolling both their space agency and their political leaders. Schoolchildren began writing letters to the taikonauts who, they were told, would be taking the first piloted journey in just a few months. Companies that had made hardware for the flight convened “all hands” meetings of their employees, allowing them to take time off to watch televised replays of the rocket launch and the animations of what the rocket would be doing in space during its voyage to the surface of the Moon.

  For China, it was a day of national pride and anticipation. Anticipation of the next step, expected in a scant few months, that would carry three Chinese taikonauts to the Moon and show the world that China had “arrived.”

  Oddly enough, the public in archrival India celebrated as well. The world’s largest democracy, though much poorer than its Western cousins, had made tremendous strides in space exploration over the previous decade. India itself was only a few years away from sending vyomanauts into Earth orbit. Seeing another formerly backward country be on the edge of accomplishing what only one of the last century’s superpowers could attain was a cause for celebration. Engineers were jealous. Politicians were eager to use the moment to promote India’s growing technological prowess. And the average Indian looked forward to their own day on the Moon.

  In America, few noticed and even fewer really cared. And fewer still understood the technical implications and political ramifications. In America, it was just another day and another headline about something happening “over there somewhere.”

  Chapter 15

  “This is it!” Paul Gesling said into the camera that transmitted his image from the cockpit of the Dreamscape to the five passengers strapped into their seats behind him in the crew cabin. “In a few days, you’ll be the first people since the Apollo astronauts to go to the Moon and back. I know the training has sometimes been less than fun, but what we’re about to do will make history and give you something to tell your grandchildren about. You are going to get your money’s worth—and then some!”

  Not wanting to be distracted from his preflight checklist any longer, Gesling turned back to the forward view screen and instrument panel. With the press of a virtual button on the touch screen, he turned off his audio but left the video feed on. Gary Childers insisted that the paying customers have a chance to see what the hired help was up to in all stages of the mission.

  The Dreamscape was certainly living up to its name. Perched on the Nevada desert runway like a large and beautiful bird, it was about to take flight. The engines were running, producing the telltale heat exhaust, causing the air behind the vehicle to distort light in unusual ways, making objects appear to ripple in the heat of the mid-day sun. Crisscrossing orange and red plasma streams poured into a billowing exhaust cloud of puffy white steam. Emblazoned on the front of the spaceship was its name, the corporate emblem of Space Excursions, and a big American flag. Gary Childers was in business to make money, but he was also a proud American.

  Within the vehicle, hundreds of sensors were measuring electrical current in numerous subsystems, fluid temperatures, and the mechanical status of anything and everything that had to move or rotate in order for Dreamscape to make its upcoming voyage.

  As the passengers waited anxiously in their seats, the shrill whine of the jet engines increased in volume as one of the last preflight tests was run to completion.

  Gesling was pleased. So far, all systems were operating as they should, and the launch countdown was proceeding on schedule. In just another few minutes, he would ease off the brakes, throttle up, and begin the journey down the runway. Piece of cake, he thought to himself.

  Now it was time for Gesling to examine the crew in the last of his preflight checklists. This checklist was not one that the FAA required; rather, it was one Gary Childers mandated. First, he was to look over the vital signs of each passenger, as relayed to the display to his left inside the cockpit. From here he could monitor their heart rate, blood pressure, body temperature, and virtually every other organ in their bodies. Each had been benchmarked against their physiological profiles during training, and the current results were meticulously compared with their earlier results by the onboard computer. If any were out of the anticipated
bounds for this, the real thing, then Gesling was authorized to have them removed from the vehicle. The Moon was nearly a quarter million miles away from the nearest hospital, and under no circumstances could the health of any passenger jeopardize the mission (or its profitability and good press coverage).

  The second part of the Childers Checklist was highly subjective. Paul was to look over the faces of each passenger and determine if any looked like they were about to panic or faint. Again, this could be cause for removal—but Paul knew that if he exercised this option and the passenger turned out to be okay, his future piloting opportunities with Space Excursions would be limited indeed.

  The Dreamscape was designed with seats much like those of a commercial jet. There was one pilot seat up front in the middle of the cockpit. Behind the pilot seat was the “aisle,” and on either side was one seat. Each passenger therefore had an aisle and a window. The seats were numbered in rows and lettered for the side of the aisle they were on. Seats 1A and 2A were on the left side of the aisle. Seats 1B, 2B, and 3B were on the right. Where seat 3A would have been was where the docking/boarding hatch was located. And behind seat 3B was the bathroom and storage-container wall. Each of the seats was designed for full reclining to allow for sleeping on the long lunar flights. But at present all the seats were upright and filled with occupants.