“First of all, they provide a slightly higher thrust than a chemical rocket engine. This allows us to trade payload mass for trip time. With less mass to push, the higher thrust engines will accelerate the ship to a higher speed. They’re also much more efficient, meaning that we will only have to carry about half the propellant weight we’d require if this were a chemical rocket mission.”
“But at what cost? Look at Fukushima and Chernobyl. The ecological destruction from nuclear power is great. We could accomplish this mission with only chemical propulsion and be much better off because of it.”
Reudiger was ready for a verbal brawl and Gesling wasn’t one to take the bait. Paul was decidedly in favor of nuclear propulsion for deep space travel when it made sense, and he believed it made a lot of sense for this mission and certainly for one to Mars. He was hoping no one else would respond so they could get on with their briefing. There wasn’t much time and this debate wouldn’t settle anything related to their mission. But it looked like his desire was not going to come true. The Russian seemed as eager for a fight as the German. He, too, arched his back and then pulled his face mask off to the side so his face could be clearly seen.
“Reudiger, pardon my Russian bluntness, but you are full of shit and simply wrong. Physics of spaceflight is the driving factor, not silly European green nonsense based on emotional and political arguments and zero factual science. The only way we can get the trip times and payload mass we need to send people to Mars is by using nuclear propulsion. We’ve done the studies for decades and while chemical propulsion is certainly viable, it is a dead end with regard to human exploration of deep space. We need nuclear rockets to take us to Mars and there is no other option if we choose to go further. You should know that as well as I do.” Mikhail grinned as he taunted the more reserved Reudiger.
“Gentlemen. We must put a stop to this debate. The available hardware and the schedule are what drove us to making nuclear propulsion the baseline for the intercept mission. If NASA weren’t building the Mars mission hardware right now, which is nuclear, then we wouldn’t even have a shot at reaching Sutter’s Mill in time to fix the propulsion system and avert a global tragedy.” Paula stood as she spoke, placing herself between Mikhail and Reudiger, and looked back and forth between them expectantly. “This debate just isn’t helpful and we have millions of lives hanging in the balance.”
Neither of the men responded. Both looked like schoolyard bullies about to kick the crap out of each other behind the gym.
“Now that that is shelved, let me continue. You’ll be launched into space by someone’s rocket, perhaps by two rockets, depending upon what is available. Once in Earth orbit, you’ll rendezvous with the Deep Space Habitat and the nuclear thermal propulsion stage that will take you to Sutter’s Mill. Once the Earth departure burn begins, you’ll have approximately three months of flight time before you reach Sutter’s Mill. Once there, you’ll spacewalk to the asteroid’s surface and repair or replace the electric thrusters that malfunctioned. We’ve allowed up to a week for the repair mission with up to two three-hour EVAs each day. Once the repair is complete, you’ll remain near the asteroid to make sure the repaired hardware is working properly before you restart the engines and return home. If all goes well, you’ll get home about a week before the asteroid flies by Earth.”
“That’s not much time for the electric thrusters on the rock to change its course,” Paul said, trying to keep the conversation technical and away from the almost-fistfight over using nuclear power in space. To help with the topic change, he began walking toward the exit from the cleanroom. The others followed.
“The astrodynamicists tell me that that will be enough time to nudge it so that it will be a clean miss and pass somewhere between the Earth and the Moon. I’m sure they will share their analysis with you or anyone else. They want to make sure they’re right just as much as we do,” said Paula.
“And a week between our arrival home and the flyby isn’t exactly what I’d call a comfortable safety margin,” said Gesling.
“I agree. But the motion of the planets, and in this case the asteroid, is what it is and we can only nudge it a little bit.” Paula waved her hands as she spoke, pretending that her right fist was Sutter’s Mill being deflected away from Earth, her left hand.
“I understand, but it sucks nonetheless.”
“I agree.” Paula nodded in affirmation, smiled and then said, “From what I know about each of you, you’re accustomed to being in high pressure, no scheduled margin for events and making the best of them. That’s why you are here.”
The group of astronauts looked at each other as they exited the clean room and began taking off their protective gear. Some of them grinned as their egos enjoyed the stroking. Others felt placated and only gave a nod or a shoulder shrug as their egos were less vulnerable.
“We’ll keep this rock from hitting the Earth,” Melanie said.
“Do we really have a choice?” The Russian added.
“The only other choice has abysmal consequences,” Gesling noted. The others all nodded in agreement.
* * *
The team had dinner at a local steakhouse, followed by ample drinking at a nearby bar. One thing hadn’t changed in the selection of astronauts since the Mercury 7 crew—they knew how to work hard and how to party hard. The nuclear debate between Mikhail and Reudiger began again after the second post-dinner drink and continued unabated until Hui Tian had to excuse herself.
“Comrades,” she said and nodded directly at Mikhail as she began, “I must be off. As much as I enjoy the company, and the drinks, I’m still a bit jet-lagged and I really must turn in.”
“Good night, Hui. It’s great working with you again,” Paul said.
“Good night, Paul,” she said as she put on her jacket and left the bar.
Hui didn’t drive, so she asked the cashier at the bar to summon a taxi to take her to her hotel. She was a bit tipsy and didn’t pay much attention to the ride from the bar to her hotel, only taking in the sights of suburban Houston when she forced herself to focus, usually at a stoplight.
Tian traveled light, and was able to get ready for bed quickly. Her room lights were out and she was asleep within twenty minutes of the taxi letting her out at the front of the hotel. She was exhausted and deep sleep was what she desired.
After what seemed like only a few moments of sleep, Hui awakened with a start. She turned her head to look at the ubiquitous clock radio on the hotel’s night stand and saw that it said 3:44 a.m. The room was otherwise dark and she was trying to figure out what awakened her when she suddenly realized she was not alone. She wasn’t sure how she knew that someone else was in the room, but she was certain that there was someone else nearby.
She frantically ran through her options. She could pretend to be still asleep and hope they left. She quickly discarded this option because why would anyone break into a room to just sit and stare at a sleeping person? She was of course afraid of rape, and that thought alone got her adrenaline flowing and her heart rate accelerated. She thought about quickly leaping out of the bed and running for the door, but discarded that idea also. There was no way she could get out from under the covers and to the door before the person, whoever it was, could stop her. She could scream, but she knew that no one would hear her. Hotel rooms were too well soundproofed. Calling 911 was also not an option because it would take too much time. Instead, she took a chance.
“Who is there?” Hui asked into the darkness.
No response.
“I know someone is there. What do you want?”
“I came to warn you,” the male voice said in Chinese from just to her left, near the room’s balcony.
“Who are you? Warn me about what?” Hui asked. The voice was familiar to her and since he was speaking in Chinese, she had to assume she knew the person. After all, what’s the chance of a random Chinese burglar in Houston breaking into a Chinese person’s hotel room?
“I came to warn you
to not be part of the mission if it involves Space Excursions, Paul Gesling, Bill Stetson, or Gary Childers.”
She did know the voice. She had trained with him for months and even been on the Moon with him. She decided to not let on that she knew who it was, at least for the moment.
“Why are you warning me of this? And why are you in my room, in the middle of the night?”
“You know why. And I am sure you now know who I am. Hui Tian, if you don’t remove yourself from the mission, I cannot guarantee your safety.”
“Zhi Feng. Why would you want the mission to not succeed? If we fail, millions of people will die.”
“They can find another way to divert the asteroid. But I won’t let them get any more credit for anything. The glory should have been ours, but they stole it. They humiliated us and I will now humiliate them.”
Hui rose up in the bed and slowly began to slide the covers off her body to allow more rapid movement, should she need to move fast in the next few minutes. She was still worried about her safety, but not so worried that she wasn’t going to try and get out, if the opportunity arose.
“Them? You mean Stetson and Gesling?”
“And Childers. I’ve missed them twice and I won’t miss them again. I just don’t want you to be injured when it happens.”
“You know this is wrong. They saved us on the Moon. If it weren’t for them, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now—we’d be dead.”
“Better dead in glory than alive in shame,” Feng said with an intensity that caused Hui to believe her former colleague had lost his sanity.
“You must stop this madness. Our mission will save the lives of millions, perhaps the lives of millions of Chinese. If you do something that causes us to fail, the shame of murdering millions will be much greater shame than you perceive from what happened on the Moon.”
“Perceive? Perceive? Is that what you call it? I call it international humiliation of the backward Chinese, once again being rescued by Yankee innovation. No, I will put a stop to this and I will try to protect you from harm, but it cannot be guaranteed.”
Hui heard Feng moving, and it sounded like he was moving toward the balcony door, which she now concluded was ajar. She noticed a slight breeze coming from the direction of the door and now knew how he’d managed to get into her room.
“Good bye, Hui Tian. You were my commanding officer and I have the highest respect for you, except for your treasonous actions on the Moon with Bill Stetson. But that respect won’t stop me from reclaiming the honor that is rightfully ours. You have been warned.”
Hui heard his footsteps rapidly approach the balcony’s open door and the soft metal-on-metal sound of the sliding door closing as he left the room. She bolted from the bed and locked the door behind him, quickly drawing the curtains across the entire wall. She turned on the lights and sat on her bedside, shaking. It took only a few moments for the tears to flow as she realized how close she had just come to death, or worse.
After only a few seconds to regain her composure, she went to the hotel phone on the bedside table and called the front desk, seeking their help in summoning the police.
CHAPTER 15
Paul Gesling was spending every spare moment in front of the 3D holographic projector studying the schematic drawings and performance specifications for all of the systems that comprised the spaceship that would carry them to Sutter’s Mill. The newly named Tamaroa would be their home for the next several months and he was determined to know as much about her as he could before they left Earth.
Named after the U.S. Coast Guard cutter made famous in the book The Perfect Storm, their Tamaroa would also be a rescue ship. Instead of rescuing the crew of sinking sailboat and then a swamped National Guard helicopter, they would hopefully be saving an entire city…or more.
At least the original Tamaroa looked like a ship, Gesling thought to himself.
The nuclear-powered rocketship didn’t look much like a traditional spaceship to Gesling. To him it appeared ungainly and fragile. Designed and originally built to carry a four- to eight-person crew to and from Mars over a two- to four-year period, the Tamaroa was essentially two spacecraft connected by a long truss. Gesling walked the length of the scale-model projection of the Tamaroa, stopping occasionally to change his viewing angle and memorize one surface feature or another of the craft that would have taken the first humans to Mars had it not been commandeered by Gesling and his crew to save the Earth.
“Amazing, isn’t she?” Paula Downey’s voice startled Gesling, who hadn’t noticed her walk into the room from the door to his right. She walked crisply toward Gesling, her head held high and facial expression showing all the pride a parent would wear had their offspring just been accepted at Harvard. Only the Tamaroa was her child—and it was going into deep space, not Harvard.
“Amazing isn’t the word I would have used, but it’ll do,” replied Gesling.
“You’ll think she’s amazing when you ride her and feel her thrusting…. I mean, when you’re inside her and…and, well, that didn’t exactly come out like it should have.” Downey turned red.
“That’s okay. I know what you mean. I’ve been to the Moon, remember? There’s nothing like the thrill of feeling the engines ignite and leaving Earth orbit.” Paul laughed.
“I’ve been told its better than sex.” Paula blushed a bit more.
“I wouldn’t go that far but that’s a discussion best left to another time—and with someone else.” Paul didn’t want to come off as a prude but at the same time he was a married man and didn’t want to get into an uncomfortable situation with the engineer.
“Right. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. What do you know about the truss?”
“Not much. Tell me.” Paul was glad she was changing the subject.
“Well, at one end of the truss are the nuclear rocket engines and the propellant tanks. Toward the middle are the radiators. At the opposite end is the crew module. Most importantly, the truss keeps the crew safely a tenth of a mile away from the fission reactor which powers and propels the ship. Without the truss providing all that separation, she’d have to carry a lot more shielding mass to protect you from the reactor’s stray neutrons. It’s made of composite materials and is stronger than steel.”
“I understand why it’s built the way it is, but that doesn’t keep me from thinking that it doesn’t look like a nuclear rocket ship should look.” Paul shrugged his shoulders and gestured with his hands realizing he was sounding a bit like Captain Kirk the way he was speaking. He paused and took a breath then changed his mannerisms a bit. “I mean, a nuclear ship should be big, yes, but not spindly. It looks too fragile. It should have the physical dimensions of an ocean liner with a proper—big, strong, looking and capable. This looks like, well, like a ship designed by committee.”
“Well, parts of it were designed by committee.” Paula almost sounded annoyed but he wasn’t sure. “You know that. Everything we’ve sent into space has been designed by committee—a committee composed of engineers, scientists, technicians, welders, electricians…”
“Okay, I’ll drop it. But please build the next one to look more like a rocket and less like the ladder of a fire truck.” Paul surrendered the argument.
“Deal. Now what questions can I help answer? Is there anything you don’t understand about her?”
“The radiators. They’re huge. Why are they so big?” Paul was used to rockets, chemical ones, with regenerative cooling and such.
“Ha ha, that gets a lot of smart people,” Paula teased him. “A nuclear reactor puts out a lot of heat. A lot of that heat is transferred to the propellant, that’s how the engine works. But there is a lot of heat that doesn’t get carried away by the rocket exhaust and some of it is used to generate electrical power for the ship. It’s called a bimodal nuclear reactor—it is operated in two modes. One mode produces rocket thrust, the other produces power. But even that doesn’t use up all of the heat generated when the uranium atoms split
in the reactor. It’s that waste heat that the radiators have to dump into space.”
“Can’t we use it for something else?” Paul asked.
“Not easily. And unfortunately, unlike here on Earth where we have water to carry away most of the waste heat from a nuclear power reactor, in space we can only radiate. And radiating heat takes a lot of surface area; hence the large radiators.”
“What happens if there’s an accident? Like Fukushima or Chernobyl?” Paul was suddenly thinking of disaster in space and any number of scenarios he’d seen in science fiction movies.
“First of all, that won’t happen. This reactor is designed to fail ‘safe’ and shut down if something goes wrong,” Paula reassured him. “It’s triple redundant. No, if the reactor shuts down, you will have plenty of other things to worry about instead of radiation from the reactor.”
“Explain.” Paul wished he could just fly a rocket he understood, like the Dreamscape, but he knew better.
“Without the reactor, you can’t fire your engines to go anywhere and you won’t have power to keep you warm and the air circulating. If the reactor fails, you’re dead.”
“Oh. Okay then, let’s just make sure that doesn’t happen.” Paul noted the important safety tip.
“We did our best.” Paula raised an eyebrow in a very cocksure way.
“What about solar storms? The Dreamscape has portable shields made of hydrogen-rich plastic that we set up around us if the Sun decides to send a burst of radiation our way. It’s my understanding that you use a water wall around the crew quarters to absorb the radiation and keep exposure low during sleep. But I don’t see that the skin in this model is any thicker around the core module than anywhere else. What gives?”
Paula smiled and motioned toward the core module.
“Hal, show us the magnetic shielding please,” Paula said, enunciating more clearly and certainly speaking louder than previously.
On to the Asteroid Page 9