Von Neumann’s War

by John Ringo

  “Charlotte, honey?”

  “Hi Daddy, what’s up?” she asked.

  “How’d the ccd camera work out for your telescope, slugger?”

  “It works great, thanks! Odd thing though, I think Mars is turning gray or something,” she said.

  “Hmmm,” John muttered. “Could have been atmospheric interference; perhaps it was lightly cloudy and you just didn’t notice.”

  “Mmmm, nah, don’t think it was. What’s all the business with Mom about?” Charlotte asked, wondering at the comment. There was no way that clouds could cause the changes she’d seen.

  “Yeah, about that, your mom just doesn’t understand sometimes about great opportunities and priorities. Listen, I’ve been down in Huntsville, Alabama, all this week — it’s a neat little town. I’ve got to run up to Denver and see Tina’s mom for a day or so, then it’s back to Alabama late next week for some meetings and I thought you might could go with me.”

  “Dad, I’d love to see you, but why on Earth would I want to go to Hicksville, Alabama?” she asked.

  “Huntsville, Alabama, and you’d be surprised what all is there. How’d you like to go to Spacecamp at the NASA Space and Rocket Center where they built the rockets that went to the Moon while I’m at work during the days? You’d have to miss about three days of school, but I could call your principal and talk to him about it. God knows it would be educational. Alice is coming down, too. I thought you might get Tina to come down and you two could go to Spacecamp together and hang out at the hotel pool, the space museum — they have some pretty cool rides. And there are a couple of malls a short cab ride from the hotel.”

  “I’ll go if Tina goes; I’d probably get bored out of my head by myself in the daytime.” Charlotte thought that getting out of town now that Tina had spilled the beans to Michael that she liked him wasn’t such a bad idea. “Can we really go to Spacecamp?”

  “Yeah, well, at your age it’s the Space Academy actually and it’s only three days, but it’ll be a blast.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “Great. I’ll come by Tuesday after school to help you pack. Well, let’s see.” There was a pause as her dad checked something. “It looks like our flight is first thing Wednesday morning and we’ll come back on Sunday.”

  “I’ll call Tina and see if she wants to go. B’bye daddy, I love you.”

  “I love you too, baby.”

  * * *

  “Who loves you, baby?” Charlotte laughed and screamed at the same time as the Moonshot launched the two teens ten stories straight up at over three gees. At the top of the ride there was a split second of freefall that made her stomach lurch. Charlotte was fine but she hoped that Tina didn’t throw up all over her light blue astronaut flight suit.

  “I’m gonna kill youuu!” Tina screamed as the freefall broke and the ride jerked them back downward.

  Tina jumped from her seat the second the ride stopped and stumbled around, dizzy for a moment. Charlotte didn’t appear to be affected by the thrill ride so she held her friend’s arm and told the Space Academy instructor that she needed a break.

  “Ten minutes, then back around by the Saturn V out front,” their instructor told them.

  Charlotte nodded and led Tina by the arm under the rocket engines of the Saturn IB and to the picnic area not far from the ride.

  “Wheeeww!” Charlotte wiped her brow. “That was cool. You okay?”

  “Yeah, that was all right. I wasn’t expecting that thing to shoot off straight up that hard, wow!”

  “Well, it’s called the Moonshot, you know.”

  “Whatever,” Tina was finally catching her breath. “I could use something to drink.”

  “Hey, I’ll get it, be right back.” Charlotte could tell that Tina was still a little pale and was just trying to be bold in front of her. That was Tina’s way. Charlotte had learned that years ago and just decided it was easier to play along than to call her on her weakness.

  “Here ya go,” Charlotte returned with soft drinks and handed one to Tina who was looking at her watch. “We gotta get back.”

  “You okay?”

  “Hey, it’s me.” Tina punched her on the arm, causing Charlotte to slosh her soda on her hand.

  Charlotte just shook her head back and forth muttering “Dingbat” under her breath.

  At the front of the George C. Marshall Space and Rocket Center the rest of the teen Space Academy group had collected and was being shushed by their instructors. The instructor was going on about the Saturn V rocket and the Apollo program, then pointed to an elderly man with wild white hair and white fuzzy sideburns.

  “Okay, now we’re fortunate enough today to have a very special guest here.” The head instructor shook hands with the white-haired man. “The man who designed and built the first commercial spacecraft, from Scaled Composites, Mr. Burt Rutan.”

  “Thank you, Jan. Hi everybody.” Mr. Rutan began a short talk about how he had led his team of engineers to build a completely different type of space program than the kind that NASA had done. He talked about how exciting it would be to soon have hotels in space and tourists going to the Moon. He talked about his little composite spacecraft and how there were very few metal components on it. Then he asked if there were any questions. Charlotte raised her hand first and Burt pointed to her.

  “Yes, umm, what do you mean by a composite spacecraft with little metal in it? Is it plastic or something?”

  “That’s a good question. It isn’t plastic; actually it’s more like fiberglass. In some cases we take a fiber cloth made of something like the Kevlar that bulletproof vests are made of, then we paint it with an epoxy resin kind of like the epoxy glue you can buy. When that hardens, it’s lightweight but really strong. In other cases we mix up a resin and paint it onto a mold, let it dry, then repeat the process over and over until we build up enough of the material. The result is that the body and wings of the vehicle can be made cheaper, stronger, and lighter than, say, the body of the space shuttle orbiter. It’s called a composite because it’s just that, a composite of multiple materials — fibers, resins, and hardening agents.”

  Rutan answered a few more questions from the group. One in particular from one of the know-it-alls in the group was funny.

  “Mr. Rutan, on the first flight of Spaceship One your pilot released a bunch of Skittles inside the cockpit. That seems dangerous to me — what if they’d have gotten into the instruments?”

  “Hmm, first of all, it was M Ms, I believe, and secondly they melt in your mouth not in your spaceship.” He chuckled.

  Then there was Tina’s question.

  “Hey, I gotta know something. You guys keep talking about this being the rocket that went to the Moon here.” She pointed at the giant Saturn V behind Rutan. “If that’s the rocket that went to the Moon there, how’d they bring it back and set it up here?”

  “Dingbat!” Charlotte coughed.

  * * *

  “So far, Mr. President, Project Neighborhood Watch is going well,” Ronny said, trying not to yawn. Yawning in the President’s face was considered a faux pas. “I believe we’ve put together an excellent team, developed a logical plan, and are implementing it with no glitches at this point. We should hit our launch window of August twenty-first.”

  “This looks good, Ronny. Are there any problems that the White House can help with?” The President continued to thumb through the Daily Brief.

  “None that I can foresee, Mr. President,” Ronny replied. “But the engineering on this is going to be complex. If anything comes up, I’ll forward it to your attention.”

  “Good. One more thing, Ronny.”

  “Yes, sir?” the DDNRO asked.

  “Has the situation on Mars, well, has it changed any?”

  “Yes, sir, it has, but only for the worse. The change is more or less visible to the naked eye at this point, sir.”

  “I see.”

  * * *

  Ret Ball: Well, friends. I will have to say that al
though I respected my good friend Megiddo’s insight, I never really and truly could prove he was right. But Hiowa Lend, our investigative journalist, has been investigating the Mars phenomena and she believes she has uncovered something startling. Go ahead, Hiowa, you are on the Truth Nationwide.

  Hiowa Lend: Thanks, Ret, and that is absolutely correct. I recently hired several professional astronomers to make observations of Mars with their telescopes from professional observatories at three different universities across the country. And I can tell you definitively that Mars is indeed changing colors. The astronomers tell me that the surface color albedo has changed. The albedo is the measurement that astronomers use to describe the color and brightness of an astronomical object. And the astronomers I’ve talked with tell me that Mars has changed. Changed dramatically.

  Ret Ball: That is astounding, Hiowa! Let’s get them on the air and let them tell us about it.

  Hiowa Lend: Well, Ret, that is the catch. It seems that none of them will come forward and speak publicly due to fear of professional ridicule and being ostracized from the community.

  Ret Ball: Isn’t that amazing? I mean, if something is a fact, it’s a fact. What harm could come of reporting it?

  Hiowa Lend: Well Ret, none of my sources will volunteer to come forward, but I can assure you that they’re all well-respected astronomers.

  Ret Ball: Perhaps Megiddo was right. What if this really is a CIA cover-up and a right-wing conspiracy?

  Hiowa Lend: My sentiments exactly, Ret.

  * * *

  “This is funny as hell, John.” Roger laughed as John Fisher, who was from Denver, gave him driving directions through his own hometown. “I grew up in this town and never been to the Boeing Delta IV rocket factory just ten miles away in Decatur. I mean, I’ve fished with my dad by the plant, but I’ve never actually been there. You know, come to think of it I’ve fished with him by the nuclear plant, too, and I’ve never been inside that thing. Hell, I’m glad you know how to drive to it. Otherwise we’d have to walk up the river.”

  “Yeah, well, turn left there,” John said with a smile. “You payload guys never seem to worry about how the rockets are actually put together. That’s what I’ve been telling you all along. This rocket we’re building is different from any other Delta IV Heavy; we’ve had to make extensive modifications to the attachment points.”

  “So you keep telling me. And the hundred million dollar price tag on the modification didn’t elude my notice either.” Roger pulled his car into a visitor parking spot. One month into the Neighborhood Watch the first modified common booster core was being rolled off the line. John had led a scaled design “shake and bake” test out at the shake-stand at NASA MSFC and it looked like the hardpoints would hold. The finite-element analysis looked good and the scaled test looked good, but there would be no time for a full-scale test. They were just going to have to hook the three CBC tubes together, then strap on eight solid rocket boosters around them to these modified hardpoints. Roger was not as nervous about that as John was, but both men were at least apprehensive to some extent and wanted to see the manufacturing process in action. And there was still the modified second-stage fairing that had yet to be tested.

  It took them about fifteen minutes to make it through security protocols, stop off at the restroom, then find their way around. John had been to the Boeing rocket plant at least once a week since the Neighborhood Watch had started. He had been back and forth between Decatur and CCAFS in Florida routinely. Sometimes he would make the trip several times a week. John was trying to make sure that the rocket pieces got manufactured to design in Decatur, and that they would be integrated appropriately in Florida.

  “So, what exactly are we going to see?” Roger asked as he fiddled with the visitor badge on his jacket that read “No Escort Required.”

  “This way,” John said as he led Roger around a corner to the high-bay area. “They’re running the third and final CBC outer shell today. We’ll get to see that thing manufactured. But what I want you to see is the second-stage fairing-test model. It doesn’t work. I mean, I know how to make it in Solid Edge and FEMAP as a finite element model, but we can’t figure out how to build the damned thing and fit it in the rocket’s aerodynamic shroud with the COTS and GOTS parts available.”

  “Why not?” Roger raised his left eyebrow in concern.

  “Well, we had the three second stage RL10B-2 engines modified to have twice the fuel and oxidizer like Dr. Powell’s trajectory design requires, but doing that makes the pressure vessels an odd size and there are no COTS or GOTS space-qualified tanks that will fit in the shroud.” John paused in his explanation and started chatting with a fellow running a piece of manufacturing equipment that looked more like a computer than a milling machine.

  “Oh, they’re about to weld that up now. If you hurry you can catch it,” the man told him.

  “Great, thanks, Mike.” John patted the man on the shoulder. “Roger, this way. That big crane and cylinder down there is where the booster core casing is rolled up. Mike there says they’re about to roll off the third CBC. Let’s hurry down to that end so we can see this better. Oh, one more thing. Stay inside the yellow painted lines, otherwise somebody will get a briefing about OSHA and safety.”

  “Yellow lines, got it.”

  As the two men made it to the end of the high-bay a large sheet of aluminum that had a honeycomb structure milled out into it on its up side was slid up under a big roller by an unseen conveyor. The larger roller drum then pressed onto the sheet metal. The aluminum bucked, then rolled itself up into a cylinder about five meters in diameter around the huge drum roller. The former sheet that was now an aluminum tube was lifted upright by its end.

  “Watch this part; it’s cool as hell.” John pointed at the large welding apparatus as it dropped to the seam of the sheet-metal cylinder.

  Roger watched as a large welding rod that looked more like a pointed trailer hitch ball was pressed against the aluminum rocket tube while the ball was spinning at God only knew how many thousands of revolutions per minute. The welding rod was touched to the aluminum where it had been rolled together and it spun so fast that when it touched the metal the friction of it was hot enough to force the welding of the aluminum seam. The welding rod zipped down what it was turning into a rocket tube with a screech, sealing the seam with a near perfect joint.

  “That is some cool shit.” Roger grinned like a kid in a candy store. He allowed himself the break of standing and staring in awe for just a few moments more before it was back to the urgent business of the Neighborhood Watch.

  “Now, why don’t we get to looking at this second stage model, ’cause I’ve got to get back to work on the focal plane array packages for the telescope.” Roger put his hands in his pants pockets and the little kid’s giddy stare turned to a more serious one.

  “Right. It’s around the corridor here.” John led Roger to another room with a shake table in it. Atop the table was a one-tenth scaled model of the second stage system.

  There were three scaled engines on the table. The engines were the “stretched” or “extended” RL10B-2 motors from Pratt Whitney. In order to have twice the specific impulse and burn time, the tankage for both fuel and oxidizer had to be larger. The problem was that the rocket design team had not been able to find available tankage parts that had been flight-proven and were the appropriate size.

  Roger surveyed the parts and the various engineering drawings lying on the floor and pinned to the walls around the room. There was one Solid Edge drawing of the engines on a computer monitor. Somebody must have just been in the room and stepped out for a moment or their screen saver was turned off. How damned hard could this be, he thought. We just need bigger tanks! I’ve got so much shit to be doing!

  “You see, Rog, if we use the tanks from any other engine, the pumps won’t fit, the frame will be too large to fit in the aerodynamic shroud without building a new shroud, or the structural design will be questionable, which mean
s we aren’t certain about the shake and bake of the larger frame. And if we go to a modified shroud we have to run all new CFD models of the ascent friction and you know that Dr. Powell won’t be happy with that.”

  “Uh huh.” Roger frowned.

  “There just aren’t enough available COTS or GOTS engine parts to solve this problem.” John pointed to the model, pointing out the deficiencies in the design. “Open for suggestions here.”

  “Jesus, John, has this country been wrapped up in paperwork and bureaucracy for so long that just doing things is beyond us? Stack a couple of gas tanks out of old pickups together! Whatever it takes!”

  “Weeelll.” John stretched out the word. “I do have a solution, but it isn’t from a space-qualified piece of hardware and both the Air Force and NASA frown on such. But if—”

  “John. Let’s hear your idea.”

  “Okay. It really is simple, but you’ll have to get a waiver from NRO, or Boeing will never approve or build it. I’ve been round and round with them about it. In their mind, it’s just way too much risk. That’s really why I brought you.” He pointed to the computer monitor. “Here look at this. I’ve tried to convince them that this is what we need to do but… well, hell, it has been harder than it was getting them to agree to the mods for the strap-on boosters. Risk-averse assholes.”

  John pulled up a PowerPoint slide file and opened it. He scrolled through the slides to the second stage portion.

  “Here is the standard RL10B-2.” John grabbed the tankage portion with the copy tool, then pasted it into a new slide. He then duplicated the tank. “I want to take two tanks and cut one end off each and then just weld the damned things together. Oh, there would have to be some adjustments to the cryo pipes, a little bit of structural integrity support, and stuff like that, but it should work.” He finished creating the image on the PowerPoint slide.