Noted, I'll make that fix. I feel bad about that. I was a big fan of Terry Labonte growing up. I've seen that spelled out before.
Ocean of Storms: A Timeline of A Scientific America
- Thread starter BowOfOrion
- Start date
The Turtledove voting is now closed. Ocean of Storms came in 3rd this year behind two very good timelines. I want to thank everyone who voted and pass along my congratulations to Proxima and A Sound of Thunder.
Thank you to all my readers!
Thank you to all my readers!
A huge shoutout to you - the work you've put into this timeline is immense and I am so honored to have been competing against you!
I liked the last chapter but I still find it hard to believe the government would allow the vice president to go on a suborbital spaceflight let alone to the moon 
mortonofski
Donor
Glenn would've been out of office for twenty years by this point (I think his term finished up in January 1977...).I liked the last chapter but I still find it hard to believe the government would allow the vice president to go on a suborbital spaceflight let alone to the moon
LIII: The Wine Dark Sea
The Wine Dark Sea
17 December 1998
Kennedy Space Center
Launch Control Center
MET: -00:02:33
Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. This is Paul Cunningham, Athena Control. The time is three minutes after six, Eastern Standard Time. We’re coming up on T-minus two-hours thirty-two minutes, twenty-one seconds, mark. To facilitate the broadcast, we will precede each announcement with a five-second tone followed by a one-second pause. Anyone who needs a press kit can pick one up at the information trailer.
At the present time all systems are go, all lights are green.
To review the morning for you, at T-minus eight hours and five minutes, launch complex thirty-nine was cleared and we began to load liquid propellant into the launch vehicle.
At T-minus six hours and twenty minutes Commander Cale Fletcher, Flight Engineer Sally Ride, Mission Specialist Cynthia Flat and IASA Specialist Sergio Ortona were awakened by Dr. Roger Burroughs, the flight surgeon. They were given a final physical examination and pronounced all fit.
The crew then had a breakfast consisting of half a grapefruit, a ten-ounce steak, twelve ounces of orange juice, two eggs and toast. The crew is now in the gantry access arm where they’re preparing to enter the spacecraft Intrepid which will launch them on the first leg of the Athena I mission.
GNN Special Report
“Good morning and welcome to GNN’s continuing coverage of the launch of Athena I. I’m Tamara O’Neil joined by my colleague Nick Van Pelt and we are live here at the Astronaut Hall of Fame, just a little ways west of Launch Complex 39 at Cape Kennedy. You can see the countdown clock in the lower corner of your screen as we pass T minus two hours to launch. And here’s our live shot of the Clipper Intrepid, poised and ready to launch.
You’re seeing images now from inside the cockpit. There’s Commander Caleb Fletcher being secured into the left-hand seat, that’s the commander’s chair. Astronaut Sally Ride on his right. Astronaut Sally Ride is a familiar hero to legions of American girls as the first American woman to journey into space on Clipper Constellation, back in 1981. Both astronauts Fletcher and Ride have said this will be their final flight, and it is certainly an historic one.
As we continue to watch preparations taking place, we want to show you a bit of the festive atmosphere that has surrounded this launch. Nick, tell us about the week we’ve had at the Cape.
“Thank you, Tamara. This week, as NASA has been busily making preparations, a veritable invasion of Florida has taken place. Officials estimate that almost two million people have journeyed here from all over the country and all over the planet. There is not an available hotel room for at least fifty miles in any direction. Tent cities have sprung up on beaches to the north and south. The local economy is in a boom that hasn’t been seen since the launch of Apollo 11 back in 1969.
Yesterday, I spoke to a food truck owner who had driven his vehicle almost nine-hundred miles, from Washington D.C. just to sell tacos to these crowds. He described it as the best business decision of his life.
Three days ago, those who arrived early were able to witness quite the spectacle. The launch of MAV 2 shook the Florida coastline Monday morning. MAV 2 is the Mars Ascent Vehicle. The rocket is expected to touch down on Mars near the Athena I landing site. MAV 2 will serve as the ascent vehicle for Athena II, which is expected to leave for Mars sometime in late 2001.
For those of you lucky enough to have joined us last night, you saw part of the concert at Orlando Arena which featured N’Sync and the four remaining Spice Girls. At the same time in Titusville, Willie Nelson was joined onstage by Elton John and Will Smith for a musical medley that no one in attendance will ever forget.
Throughout the week we have seen social groups, model rocketeers, Disney characters, caravans from every state in the union. Delegations from different religious groups, some of whom have come to pray, others to protest. But no matter your feelings about this mission, everyone wants a good view of the launch. For anyone watching GNN this morning, that is something we can guarantee.
“Thank you, Nick. We go now to our field reporter Ryan West who is going to tell us about some of the VIPs who are in attendance today. Ryan?”
“Yes, good morning, Tamara. I’m here at the Cape Kennedy visitor’s complex and there’s a veritable Who’s Who of American culture and global political leaders. Italian Prime Minister D’Alema arrived here just a few moments ago and will be joined shortly by President McCain. Prince Charles is here, as is his ex, Diana Spencer, in what will surely be fodder for the tabloids in the coming days. Representatives from more than a dozen countries as well as U.N. Secretary General Kofi Annan are among the VIPs.
We also have musicians and artists, authors and actors. Directors George Lucas and Steven Spielberg arrived arm-in-arm this morning. From the world of sports, Michael Jordan is joining us, as is Lennox Lewis, the reigning heavyweight champion.
The crew of Apollo 11 has a special area as part of the NASA administrator’s box. I was actually able to speak briefly with astronaut Alan Bean last night who was here at sunset painting, if you can believe it.”
“Really?”
“I, for one, remember as a child watching him paint on television during his time aboard Skylab in the 1970s. I can’t tell you what a thrill it was to see him working in person last night. This morning though, the brushes have been put away and this launch and its preparations have his full attention.”
“We’ll come back to Ryan later this morning and bring you his interview with President McCain. As we approach sunrise here at the Cape, we wanted to show you this live shot from inside the launch control center. You can see launch director Phil Bergan there at the back of the room, directing the hundreds of checks and tests that are necessary in the final phase of a countdown.
The flight of Athena I will begin in under two hours here with the launch of Intrepid. This evening, Intrepid will rendezvous with the Skydock space station in low Earth orbit where the spacecraft Orion is already docked. From there, the final preparations will be made to Orion, including the mating of the Aurora capsule which will take the crew of Athena I down to the surface of Mars. Tomorrow morning, around ten a.m. eastern time, Orion will perform an engine burn, what’s called a TMI burn. TMI stands for Trans Mars Injection. That’s the maneuver that will send Orion on its way to Mars.
GNN will, of course, have live and continuing coverage for all of those critical mission events. GNN will be your channel of choice for the flight of Athena I, all the way to Mars and back.
We are approaching T minus one hour to launch. The sun is just starting to rise and give a splendid glow to these early morning festivities. For the crew of Athena I, this is the last sunrise they’ll see on Earth for about two and a half years. We certainly hope they’re able to enjoy it.
18 December 1998
Skydock Space Station
Athena I
Flight Day 2
Cale Fletcher was roused from his sleep by a large hand on his shoulder. Instinctively, he grabbed at the wrist. It took a moment to get his bearings.
“Have you come to kill me?” Cale Fletcher asked, “Even these days, it is not easy.”
Jake Jensen laughed, “I bet it’s not,” he said.
“You can have my ride to Mars when you pry it from my cold, dead hands,” Fletcher said, doing his best Charlton Heston impression.
“Come on, Clemson. It’s moving day,” Jensen said.
If Jensen had come for Cale with a knife or a club, there were few in the astronaut corps who would have blamed him. Such a plot, if successful, would have been Jensen’s last chance to be the first man on Mars.
Jake Jensen, commander of the crew of Athena II, was also the backup commander for Athena I. The crew of Athena II had been aboard Skydock for the past three weeks, making the final preparations for Orion’s departure. With both crews in place, the station was a bit overcrowded at the moment, but that issue would be resolved in a few hours.
Cale wriggled out of his sleeping bag, adjusted his eyes to the light and stretched. In zero-gravity, sleep was restful, but being awakened could be quite jarring. He noticed that one of the velcro tabs that held his bag in place had slipped during the night. Rather than the familiar up-down orientation he had expected, his view of the world was now at a bizarre tilt.
“Your people are handling my people?” Cale asked.
Jensen nodded, sweeping an arm to show this tableau being played out in three other areas of the module. Each backup was waking up a member of the prime crew. The two leftovers, Crichton and Morrison, were already heating up food packets in the station’s galley.
Cale gave a nod of thanks to his old friend and counterpart, then pushed off and headed for the nearest water gun. He took a cloth from his personal kit, dampened it with hot water, and then cleaned his face and neck. A strong shot of warmth to counter the cool air of the station was enough comfort to clear the fog from a night of sleep. He zipped up his blue flightsuit with its collection of patches, combed his hair, so far as he could, and felt ready to be the dashing aviator that the day would require of him.
Turning back to the galley, he caught the microwaved breakfast burrito that was tumbling slowly towards him, courtesy of Brett Morrison. Sergio eagerly took his spot at the water dispenser and Sally and Cynthia came to join them.
The burrito was nothing to write home about. Frozen foods were a staple of the new frontier, and NASA had people whose job it was to make them as palatable and enjoyable as possible. It also had people working on interstellar drives. He wasn’t sure who had the greater task.
Plowing through the final bites, he checked his watch. They were running a few minutes ahead of schedule. He suspected Jake had jumped the gun in waking them, not wanting to be the reason for a delay. Ever the West Point man, Jensen would be a great commander for Athena II.
After breakfast, he gestured for Sally to follow him. They made their way through two modules, passing racks of plant experiments and the solar observatory monitors. As they approached the open hatch that led to Orion, he paused.
“You feeling okay about everything?” he asked.
“Yeah, we’re good to go,” she said. He could read her tone and knew she was calm. Calmer than he was.
“Sure you don’t need another pair of hands for the power-up?” he said.
She slapped her hand down on the grab bar over the open hatch. The sound was loud enough to linger for a moment, “What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked.
“What?” he said.
“You know damn well I don’t need another pair of hands for the power-up. We’ve done this about eighty-seven-hundred times in the sims,” Sally said.
“I just thought…” he started.
“In my entire life, Cale, I’ve never needed a pep talk. You’re gripping. What’s up?”
“I’m just a little bit in my head. I’ve never left the planet before,” he said.
“Likewise,” she said.
He took a moment, let the nervous energy ripple through him and out through his fingers and toes. One deep breath.
“Okay, I’m good now,” he said.
“Damn right you are,” Sally said.
“I just needed a minute,” he said.
“That’s fine. Performance anxiety is very common in men your age,” she said.
He wrinkled his mouth and gave her a side eye. Her smirk was just as loud as a laugh would have been.
“Don’t put any dings in my ship,” he said.
“Don’t put any dings in my lander,” she said.
Two hours later, Cale Fletcher sat at the controls of Aurora, with Sergio at his side. They made one pass down the length of Orion, turning after they passed the nose of the spacecraft.
“Okay, Houston, we’ve got your photos now. Orion looks to be in great shape from what I can see. Sally Ride, we’re coming in to dock. Please keep her steady for us,” Fletcher said.
“You got it,” Sally radioed over from two-hundred feet away.
Smoothly, Fletcher brought the small, hubcap shaped lander around. Two years from now, he’d have to repeat this maneuver over the red sands of Mars. This would be his last real-world practice.
“Venti feet,” Sergio said. Cale stifled a chuckle. He was just thankful Sergio hadn’t called out the distance in meters.
“Almost there,” Fletcher said, to no one in particular.
Silently, the tiny lander slid into place on the forward docking port of Orion. There was a click of confirmation and Sally waved to them from the flight deck, just a few feet away.
“Capture!” she called out.
“Go ahead and retract,” Fletcher said.
The series of clicks and whirrs that followed signaled a good seal between the hatches.
“We got you,” Cynthia said, from the pilot’s chair on Orion.
“Houston, we have a good capture. I’m going to shut down Aurora and we’ll transfer over,” Fletcher said.
18 December 1998
Orion
Athena I
Flight Day 2
“Everyone take one last look,” Cale said.
By the ship’s attitude only the blue horizon could be seen, hanging above the shadowed crescent of the Aurora which dominated the lower half of the view. The beautiful azure glow lit the flight deck, and four sets of eyes drank it in.
Cale held a hand over his mike, “Sally, would you please do the honors?”
From the right-hand seat, Sally Ride gave a big grin and spoke into her headset, “Houston, this is Orion. Requesting a go for Trans Mars Injection.”
On the ground they completed their millionth check of everything from the MAV readings to the reactor temperature. Cale wasn’t bothered that confirmation took a long moment. This would be the longest nuclear rocket burn in human history. No need to rush.
He reached over with his right hand to take the left of Sally’s. He gave it a squeeze and she returned the gesture and shook his hand up and down. It was the most they could do for solidarity and luck. Behind them, he was sure Sergio and Cynthia were doing the same.
The little digital clock on the center of the console counted down through -00:00:45. He read through the screens in front of him and by his knee. No warnings, no issues. Orion was in great shape.
As the clock hit twenty-five seconds, Houston gave them the nod.
“Orion, Houston. You are go for TMI.”
Sally did the final count, “Ignition in five, four, three, two…”
“Let’s go to Mars,” Cale said.
There was no great roar of sound. No violent slamming into their chairs. For a few seconds, a casual observer might have noticed nothing at all. But the shudder of the stack rippled down as the engines began spewing hot, radiated hydrogen out into the void. A tenth of a gravity became a half, became a full gee. The burn program was designed to avoid the hard jerks that accompanied chemical rocket burns. Orion was a big girl and she had to be handled delicately.
As the clock ticked past one minute plus, the acceleration had pushed into two gees. Cale heard a groan over the low rumble and hiss of the engines.
“You all right back there Sergio?” he asked, not looking over his shoulder.
“Si, si sente bene sulla schiena,” came the reply.
“Fantastico, mio amico. Siamo in cammino,” Cale said.
“Andiamo ad Marte!” Sergio called out.
“Andiamo ad Marte!” said the trio of Americans.
Conversation trailed off as the ship came up through three gees of acceleration. Not long after, the engines reached full thrust and an uneasy stasis began. The push wasn’t any worse than what they’d felt during the launch yesterday, but there was a large difference mentally, if not physically.
“Coming up on drop one,” Sally said.
“Call the play, Sally May,” Cale said.
“Drop tanks one and two, firing in three, two, one.”
There was no need to press a button or flip a switch. The computers had it all covered. Sally’s hand hovered near the appropriate toggle, but before she could touch it, the light above came on.
Cale thought he could feel a bump, but it was unlikely considering how far behind him the tanks were.
“We have drop tank jettison,” Sally said. “Two minutes, thirty-three seconds to MECO.”
“Copy that,” Cale said.
Silently they held vigil over the reactor temperature readings. There were abort options if something critical should malfunction at this point, but they ranged from appallingly tedious to terrifying and tragic.
“Coming up on MECO,” Sally said.
Cale couldn’t help but clench a bit, nearing the end of today’s maximum danger.
“Five, four, three, two, one… MECO,” Sally said.
As she finished, they could feel the engines slow and cease. The jolt was more pronounced now as weightlessness returned to Orion’s flight deck, but both ship and crew came away with no ill effects.
“Houston, we have MECO,” Cale said.
A beat passed in silence. Cale unlocked the ring around his neck and took off his helmet, letting it float next to his head. The others followed suit quickly.
“Heck of a show, Sally Ride. I’d fly with you anywhere,” Cale said.
Sally looked out at a sky that held nothing but stars, “So long, Earth. We’ll see you next millennium.”
12 January 1999
GNN Special Report
“Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to a special edition of NewsNight, on GNN. Three weeks ago, the spacecraft Orion departed Earth orbit on its two and a half year mission. This is the first voyage of human beings to the planet Mars, and as such it has captured the attention of the entire world.
“This afternoon, in cooperation with NASA, we at NewsNight were lucky enough to speak with the four astronauts aboard Orion on its outbound flight. At such a great distance, it took more than a minute for our words to reach each other, but that time delay has been edited out of this recording. We go now to our reporter Ryan West.
“The crew of Orion consists of mission commander Cale Fletcher, flight engineer Sally Ride, and mission specialists Cynthia Flat of NASA, and Sergio Ortona of the International Alliance for Space and Astronautics. We spoke with the crew as a collective as they gave us a tour of life aboard ship.
The feed cut to the prerecorded interview and Ryan West sitting at a desk at GNN studios.
“Good afternoon! We thank you all for joining us. On behalf of GNN and, indeed, everyone here on Earth, we wish you all a safe and successful voyage.”
“Thank you very much, Ryan. Things are going marvelous up here so far,” Cale said.
“We’re certainly glad to hear that. One of the things that the public has been asking about has been Orion’s use of artificial gravity. I was hoping you’d tell us about the gravity system that is aboard ship.” Ryan asked.
“Well, for starters, it’s important to understand that our gravity system, as it is, is not really artificial gravity in the Star Trek sense of the term. What we have is a system that generates centripetal force through our dumbbell. The forces that operate the system are familiar to any kid in a seventh-grade science class. There’s nothing sci-fi or mysterious about its mechanisms or operations.”
Sally ride took over for Cale, “Our dumbbell consists of two round living modules that are joined to Orion through a long cylinder. The central rotation point is located at the rear of Orion’s crew section.
“The dumbbell rotates around at a speed that imparts a force close to the gravity on Mars. We sleep in the living sections at the bottom of the dumbbell each night. This allows our bodies to get accustomed to Martian gravity which is about three-eighths of Earth’s. By the time we reach Mars, we’ll be well adjusted to living and working in that gravity. It will allow us to begin surface operations immediately after landing.”
“I see. Tell us about what you’re doing during this leg of the voyage? What are your duties on a normal day? What do you do for entertainment?”
“Our biggest priority is the upkeep of Orion itself. The ship is in very good shape, but we do performance checks on each major subsystem at least twice a week. Small repairs crop up from time to time and we have facilities to handle that sort of thing.”
Cynthia took over from here, “Additionally, we have experiments here in the science module,” she waved an arm to indicate the equipment racks beside the crew. “In these cabinets are various setups provided to the mission by universities, government laboratories, pharmaceutical companies and more.”
“Here in the science module, we study chemical engineering, plant growth, and even some manufacturing techniques. The zero gravity creates a unique environment for observation.”
“And there’s also our telescopes,” Sally said. She motioned to the side walls of the cabin, “On the left and right sides of the outer hull, we have telescopes. We coordinate with astronomers back on Earth and we can provide a different angle on any number of objects in the solar system. We also do some deep-space astronomy.”
Sergio came in next, “As far as the food, by Italian standards, it’s somewhere between mediocre and unacceptable. There’s not a bottle of red wine for half a million miles.”
Cale chuckled at that, “We’re somewhat limited by our onboard kitchen, which is just hot and cold water dispensers, a microwave, and a toaster oven. Our service module,” he said, waving the camera back as he went through the hatch, “is where we keep our kitchen gear as well as housing our consumables.”
Sally Ride followed him into the service module, carrying the video camera.
“We have almost every kind of frozen food you can think of. But we’ve gotten very inventive with spices and sauces. Plenty of things you don’t have to heat up. Crackers, M&M’s, peanut butter, things like that. We brought aboard a big supply of fresh fruit, but that wouldn’t keep, so we went through it fast.
“Lunch meals are usually eaten here in the service or science modules, but for breakfast and dinner, we all sit together and eat as a crew. Let me show you the ship’s formal dining room.”
Fletcher continued his movement aftward. The slowly spinning hub gave a hypnotic and dizzying quality to the video feed. He checked the walls as they rotated around him, then moved to one of the hatches.
Mounting the ladder, he was careful to avoid a series of ropes nearby. He tugged on one to show it to the camera. “We have these pulleys as a kind of dumbwaiter to send things up and down from the middeck. It’s much easier than trying to carry things up and down these long ladders.”
The view from the hub was replaced by a dizzying view down into one of the living modules. Viewers could see Fletcher moving down the long ladder. A moment later, the feed was switched to show him at the bottom. The other crew members followed shortly after.
“This is the boys’ dorm,” Fletcher said, with his typical southern charm. “Orion has space for six astronauts. Future Athena flights will carry six people at once, but for now, we’ve got a little more living space. As you can see, the quarters are fairly spartan.” He showed off a rectangular table with four chairs of bare metal with minimal padding. Behind him was a sink, and a curtain labeled “lavatory”. There were a few cabinets along the far, curved wall.
“I know what you’re thinking. Where are the beds? This is where the glamourous life of an astronaut is really shown off,” he said, taking a knee on the floor. He slid back a panel to reveal a small sleeping space, with a light, a thin mattress, and a pillow.
“NASA has asked us, repeatedly, not to refer to these sleeping pods as ‘coffins’ but you get the idea. We have to maximize our use of space, so these beds are set into the floor and during the day, we close the covers and use the area for floor space. This one is mine. That one over there is Sergio’s. The girls sleep in the other living module on the other side of the dumbbell,” he said, pointing back up the ladder.
Sally took over the presentation, hefting a small computer in her hands. “In the evenings, after dinner, we sometimes use our laptops to watch videos or to read. Orion has an extensive library and Houston will beam things up to us on request. We write reports on our experiments and read incoming reports from Earth. We also have some toys and games aboard.”
Cale joined in, “Every weekend, we have a table tennis tournament. Sally Ride has yet to be beaten, but the rest of us are determined to take her down before we reach Martian orbit.”
Ryan West came back on screen, “It sounds like quite an interesting trip. Before we go, I’d like to ask each of you: what do you think the exploration of Mars will look like twenty years from now?”
They stood, flat-footed, on the floor of the living module, taking the question from left to right.
Sergio spoke first, “I think, twenty years from now, we’ll have a fledgling base on the surface, akin to what you see with the current lunar base at Shackleton. Hopefully by that point we’ll have an ongoing presence on the surface and we’ll be on our way to true colonization.”
Cynthia smiled at that thought and added: “I agree with Sergio’s vision. I also think that you’ll be seeing more of an international effort at that point. Other nations will be taking part in Mars missions, or launching their own. I can only hope that there will be peaceful cooperation.”
Sally spoke next, “The next twenty years of exploration are only meaningful if they lead to twenty more. Whatever happens, the most important thing is that we keep going.”
“Amen to that,” Cynthia chimed in.
Cale finished out for the crew with his own answer.
“Ryan, I have two words for you: Martian Pizza.”
23 January 1999
Orion
Athena I
Flight Day 37
Cynthia Flat had drifted into REM sleep when the small speakerbox by her head started to beep. It was a soft tone at first. Like a mouse trying to get attention. She fussed and turned, trying to ignore it without breaking her sleep. It took thirty seconds for the beeps to rise in volume to an unignorable level.
Groaning, she rolled over, faced the compact little box that had awoken her and hit the blue acknowledgment button.
The beeping ceased and a low-volume voice took its place.
“…are reading an activation of fuel pump heater two. We think that a switch on the flight deck must be closed for some reason. Requesting you to reset the switch on panel 52A. Repeat. Orion, Houston. We are reading an activation of fuel pump heater two. We think that a switch on the flight deck must be closed for some reason. Requesting you to reset the switch on panel 52A. Repeat…”
They were more than two light-minutes away from Earth now, so back and forth dialog bordered between tedious and annoying. These days, when Houston needed to say something, they just sent a short message and set it to repeat.
Cynthia hit the acknowledgement button again to turn off the sound. It was her night to be on-call. Most of the time, that was just a formality, but, if Houston had a problem while the crew of Orion was asleep, whoever was on-call got the message from the ground. She sat up and looked over. Sally was still fast asleep in her coffin. She was glad the noise hadn’t woken her up.
She stretched and yawned, pulling herself up and onto the deck. She didn’t bother to slide the panel shut. She planned to be back in bed shortly.
Sighing, she made her way up the ladder. Each rung a little easier to reach than the last. Gravity disappearing as she reached the top. She pushed off into the hub and rotated her body into a more pleasing attitude. She could look through the modules and see into Orion’s flight deck. It was comforting to have the seats there appear on the floor instead of the wall. When her brain told her that she was “upright” she made her way down the service module, heading for the front of the ship.
As she passed through the science module, she stole a glance at the telescope monitor. All she could see was a fuzzy dot of light on a black background. The readout said that she was looking at some asteroid with a name that was an incomprehensible string of letters and numbers. No doubt some graduate program had reserved time on the ship’s scope for observations. A shame they didn’t want to study something more beautiful, but c'est la vie.
Entering what had once been the Clipper Orion, she found the source of the trouble that had disturbed her sleep.
The first sign that something was amiss was a dog-eared copy of The Odyssey floating through the flight deck. The ventilation currents had fluttered the pages a bit and it was on a trajectory for the science module before Cynthia plucked it out of midair. She tucked it into a pocket and made her way up to the cockpit.
Cale Fletcher sat in the left-hand seat, the rightful spot of any mission commander. Canvas straps held his frame to the chair, but his arms floated forward, and his head pitched down. His breathing was more than a rattle, but less than a snore. Cynthia shook her head and settled into the pilot’s chair next to Cale. She pushed away a hovering legal pad and reached past it to Fletcher’s left hand.
Somehow, in his slumber, his hand had flipped a switch on panel fifty-two which had led to Houston’s inquiry. She moved his fingers away and reset the offending toggle. At which point, Fletcher stirred awake.
He startled a bit, seeing that he had company. Embarrassed, he rubbed his face and eyes and turned to greet his visitor, waving timidly, despite their close proximity.
“You’re not allowed to sleep up here,” she said.
“I’m the commander of this ship. I’ll sleep in the engine bell if it suits me,” he said, with mock defiance.
“C’mon Cale. You remember the surgeon’s briefing. They put those beds in for a reason.”
“They aren’t beds. They’re coffins,” he said.
“You don’t have to shut the door,” she said. “C’mon. Eight hours in gravity. Mission rule,” she said.
“Dumbass rule,” he said, yawning.
“It’ll be good to get used to the surface gravity. You know all that crap about bone density. Smart people came up with this plan.”
He waved off her protestations. She clucked her mouth in disappointment and tried a different approach.
“You know how much radiation leaks in through these windows?” she said.
“That’s my retirement plan. When we get back to Earth I’m gonna be the Incredible Hulk,” he said.
“Dumbass plan,” she said.
“Everybody’s a critic.”
“What were you working on?” she said, pointing at the legal pad that now floated out of her reach.
“First words,” he said.
“You’re still struggling?”
“It’s hard. There’s going to be plaques and stuff. Damn thing will be in the first line of my obituary.”
“What have you got so far?” she asked.
He pulled the legal pad out of the air and handed it to her. She perused it for a moment, “Ummm…”
“Yeah, I know,” he said.
“You could always just go with a quote,” she said.
“I’m not stealing someone else’s line. Too egotistical for that,” he said.
She continued looking down the page, “What’s with the ‘L’?”
“I was thinking of saying something in Latin.”
“In case the pope is watching?”
“I want it to be universal.”
“Because nothing says universal like a language nobody speaks anymore,” she said.
“Philistine,” he said.
She smirked at one line, “’To Infinity and Beyond’? Seriously?”
“I liked the movie,” he said.
“Everyone liked the movie. What happened to not stealing someone else’s line?”
He shrugged.
“Frank Borman really got in your head, didn’t he?”
“You know, I asked him, at that thing last summer, what he thought about it,” Cale said.
“What’d he say?” she asked.
“Old man looked me dead in the face and said, ‘I only had one in the tank, kid. But you better make it good.’”
She gave a wry chuckle.
“Eh, I’ll come up with something,” he said, resignedly.
She ran the red ink pen down to one line near the bottom of the page. She crossed out a few words, circled some others and handed it back.
“You think?”
She nodded, “C’mon. Enough with the Captain Kirk stuff. Go to your actual bed.”
“Kirk didn’t sit at the controls,” Cale said, unbuckling his harness.
“Rather be Luke Skywalker?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, sky walk your ass to bed, so they don’t have to wake me up again.”
“Where’d you get all this authority?” he asked, pushing off to head aft.
“Until 0800, I’m the officer on watch. The ship is mine ‘til breakfast.”
“Ugh, power corrupts,” he said.
“Absolutely.”
18 March 1999
Orion
Athena I
Flight Day 92
If it hadn’t been the alarm that woke him up, it might have been the slosh of loose items in his personal storage area. The gentle crash of books, pens, photographs and small toys behind the tarp had impinged on his left thigh. The first thing he felt was surprise, the second was motion sickness.
“Oh, what the hell?” Cale Fletcher asked, annoyed and edgy.
He sat up. The table in the middle of the room was empty. The box that held utensils and cups was now shoved against the side wall, tipped on its side. The standard lighting was still on, but was supplemented by a slow pulsing amber that indicated a problem. He looked over to see Sergio rising from his bed.
“Problema?”
“Si,” Cale answered.
Cale grabbed his headset and turned it on, “Sally, Cyn, you two up?”
“Yeah, Cale. What the hell?” Sally asked.
“I don’t know. We’re feeling pretty shaky over here. You getting the same?”
“Yeah, there’s an odd motion, almost like we’re in a roll,” Sally said.
“Let’s get up the ladders. This could be bad,” Cale said, already stepping on the lowest rung, “Sally, flight deck. Cyn, Serge, check life support.”
“Do you want me to retract the dumbbell, Cap?” Cynthia asked.
“No, that could make this worse. For the moment, we’re breathing and we’re not being slammed into the wall. Let’s not mess with this until we know what it is.”
“Copy,” Cynthia said.
Ninety seconds later, Sally and Cale flew onto the flight deck, after a brief crash with the upper wall of the science module. The spinning stars out the forward window confirmed what they already knew. Orion was in a tumble.
“Gimbals first, then the RCS,” Cale said.
“Copy. What are you thinking?” Sally asked.
“I don’t know. A stuck thruster, probably. Maybe a problem with Aurora. If we’d been hit, this’d be worse.”
Sally hit a couple of switches as Cale strapped in. The cockpit lights flickered on. Cale activated the ship’s intercom. “Cynthia, how’s she looking?”
“No leaks, no breaches. We’re a sealed can,” Cynthia said.
“Power losses?” Sally asked.
“Negative. Reactor is stable,” Sergio said.
“Aurora is shut down,” Sally said.
“Are you sure?”
Sally hit a few buttons on her keypad, “Command one hundred. Sent it three times. It’s down.”
“Serge, Any shorts or problems in the electrics?” Cale asked into the intercom loop.
“Running diagnostics now,” Sergio said.
“Very well,” Cale said.
“You want to wait?” Sally asked.
“Nah, I don’t want it to get worse while we talk. You want the conn?” Cale said.
“No, you’re better at these things than I am. She’s yours,” Sally said.
“Hey rock hounds: strap in back there,” Cale said.
“Houston, Orion, we are initiating RCS to correct a tumble. Please advise with any information on the source,” Sally said into her headset.
Cale took hold of the control yoke in front of him.
Orion seemed to be pitching down and yawing right. He pulsed the RCS slowly, trying to correct the yaw.
“I’m getting nothing on yaw,” he said to Sally after a few tries.
“It’s not you. I think she’s bingo in the quad.”
“That’s not good,” Cale said.
“No, it’s not,” Sally said.
Cale pulsed the yoke again, “Mother of hell.”
“Work the pitch. I’ve got an idea,” Sally said.
“Roger,” Cale said. He started pulsing Orion’s thrusters in the vertical plane. The tumble began to slow. As he worked, the sun began to stream in through the windows. He and Sally both instinctively covered their eyes and groaned.
“I’m gonna let it settle back as close as it’ll get to nominal attitude. What’s your plan?” he asked Sally.
“We can’t correct the spin with primary RCS.”
“I’m ready to go to backup, but I’m gonna fix the pitch rotation first,” Cale said.
“Backup RCS is closer to the CG. It burns more fuel,” Sally said.
“That’s what it’s there for,” Cale said, pulsing the thrusters again. The pitch rotation was almost nullified. “And I can put in some roll and change our axis.”
“It’s a lot of extra torque on the dumbbell,” Sally said.
“What’s your fix?” Cale asked.
Sally pointed out the window, “We use Aurora’s RCS.”
“I can make the fix with roll and pitch again,” Cale said.
Sally held up a legal pad, “Aurora will take less fuel reserve to fix it. She’s farthest from the CG.”
“How much less?”
“My math says you’ll burn up about eighteen percent of remaining RCS this way. I can take five out of Aurora to handle it,” Sally said.
Cale paused in thought for a moment, “Okay, your way is better.”
“Sending command ten,” Sally said.
“Not yet. Give me a minute to fix. One thing at a time. We’re not in a hurry,” Cale said.
“Copy,” Sally said.
Sally watched, her hand hovering over the keypad as Cale brought Orion’s flipping to an end. The slow movement of the stars from right to left continued, but the pinpricks of light stopped sliding off the top of the window.
“Hit it hard, Sally Ride,” he said.
Her fingers flew over the controls. Cale watched her as one might watch a virtuoso pianist. She had written so many of these procedures and command lines. It was a thrill to watch her work.
“Mr. Toad, are we about done with your wild ride?” Cynthia asked, through the intercom.
“Halfway there, stay in your seats,” Cale said.
A moment later, he saw a white burst emanate from Aurora’s flank. The pulse accompanied the slowing of the yaw. After a couple of seconds, everything came to rest.
He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.
“Cap, take us up five degrees, if you will. We’re still a little off nominal,” Sally said.
Cale looked down at the attitude indicator. The yaw was right on the line, but his correction had brought Orion to a halt five degrees below nominal.”
He let out a small laugh and started to make the correction. “Cool move, Sally May.”
“Cool as a jewel,” she said.
“Houston, this is Orion. We nullified the tumble. We’d like your read on root cause as soon as possible, please,” Cale said.
It would be a few minutes before Houston could respond. By his mental math, they’d only just now be learning that Orion had a problem. It would be a few more minutes as they observed, helpless, the crew’s correction of the tumble. Even if Houston knew the exact cause, it would be several more minutes before the answering signal would reach the ship.
“Cale, I think we have a problem,” Cynthia reported.
“What’s the trouble?” Cale asked.
“The high-gain isn’t aligned,” Cynthia said.
“Have you got anything on omni?” he asked.
“Yeah, omni’s fine, but the high gain is pointed at open space. I’m looking at the targeting feed. It’s not correcting,” Cynthia said.
“Without the high gain, all Houston is getting is basic telemetry. They haven’t heard a word we’ve been saying,” Sally said.
“Yeah. The high gain targeting program must have shut down in the tumble. Can you reset it?” he asked Sally.
She nodded. He saw her reach up over her right shoulder, throw a pair of switches that were side-by-side and then, a beat later, reverse them, one at a time.
“Any better?” he asked Cynthia.
“Negative. Still stuck on black,” Cynthia replied.
“Well, hell,” Cale said. “Serge, can you give me a diagnostic on it?”
A moment passed. He unbuckled his harness and kicked off with his toes, pirouetting in midair to head aft. Sally followed close behind.
They entered the science module as Sergio reported back, “I am seeing bad indicators in the high gain targeting motors,” he said.
“So… our AE-35 unit is busted?” Cale said.
“I begged you not to call it that,” Sally said.
“And I begged you to change the name,” Cale said.
“Children,” Cynthia said, dismissively.
“What is the…?” Sergio started to ask.
“The HGTMs keep our high-gain locked on Earth. They’re supposed to maintain the lock even if the ship changes attitude. It’s an automatic system, so we don’t have to worry about it during maneuvers,” Sally said.
“And it’s not working anymore,” Cale said.
“It would have been on during the tumble and it probably went haywire trying to keep up with the ship’s rotation,” Sally said.
“That tracks.”
“We can try manual targeting,” Sally said.
“Only if the failure is in the program and not the mechanism,” Cale said.
“It’s worth a shot,” Sally said.
“Let me set it for manual,” Cynthia said.
“Sally,” Cale said, gesturing to the console.
Sally floated over to take Cynthia’s place at the computer. The monitor showed a field of stars with crosshairs in the center. This was the view from the high-gain targeting telescope. The fact that it did not show Earth was the problem at hand.
Without the high-gain antenna, they were limited to communications through the less powerful, omnidirectional antenna. The omni channel was designed to send basic telemetry from Orion and to receive vital orders in the event that the crew was incapacitated. But, at such a great distance from Earth, the nuanced voice transmissions and higher order scientific data would be garbled into utter uselessness when broadcast over the omni channel.
Sally pressed the left arrow key on the console. Obediently the field of stars on the monitor started to shift.
“Well, at least it’s moving,” Cale said.
“Fingers crossed,” Cynthia chimed in.
As Sally turned the antenna, a crescent Earth appeared at the top right corner of the screen. She brought it to the center and then changed the key she pressed.
The field didn’t move.
“Okay, so, we can’t angle up or down,” Sally said.
“That’s not gonna fly,” Cale said.
“Attitude change? It’ll burn more RCS, but we need the link.” Sally asked.
“Yeah. Right now half of Houston is having a heart attack wondering why we’re not talking to them. I’ll fly, you keep an eye on the reticle. Talk me over,” Cale said, pushing off to get back to the flight deck.
Sally paused a moment, looking at Sergio and Cynthia, “It’s gonna be fine.”
A moment later, their headsets clicked, “Okay, Sally, I’m ready. Call the play.”
Sally checked some numbers on the monitor. “Roll right three degrees, then pitch up twelve degrees.”
“Stand by,” Cale said.
She listened and could hear the cold gas escaping through the thruster quads on the ship’s exterior. Cynthia and Sergio slid slowly over to the wall. Sally secured herself with a hooked toe through a loop in the floor. She put out a hand to try to arrest Cynthia’s movement but missed. Their impact with the far wall was gentle, but she felt dumb for not warning them. She gave an apologetic shrug. Cynthia waved off her concern.
Sally turned back to the monitor and keyed her mike, “Okay, that’s pretty good. Let’s hold there and we’ll see if we can raise the…”
Before she could finish, their headsets collectively hissed with static and then filled with a new voice, “Orion, Houston, do you read me? Orion, Houston, do you read? We are not receiving your air to ground. Likely a problem with your high gain antenna. Do you copy?”
“Well, at least we’re hearing them,” Cale said.
“They should be able to hear us too,” Sally said.
“Yep, let’s let ‘em know what’s happening,” Cale said.
For a moment, both Sally and Cale spoke into the air to ground loop. Sally stopped talking when she realized Cale was already reporting their status. Cale started again.
“Houston, Orion. We’re back with you now. Can’t get rid of us quite that easily. We had a tumble that we think may have been an RCS malf. Would really appreciate your read. We had a thruster that failed to work during our correction maneuver. Now having problems with the HGTMs, which you may have guessed. Otherwise the ship is stable and secure. Gonna wait for your read before proceeding. Over.”
After a moment of silence, Cale spoke again, “Okay boys and girls. By the ship’s clock it’s two a.m. and Houston’s going to be at least ten minutes from getting us an answer. Whatever they say, it ought to keep ‘til morning. So, back to bed, all of you.”
“Are you sure?” Cynthia asked.
“I’m gonna stay on the flight deck until they respond. That’s a one-man job. The rest of you can still get what’s left of a good night’s sleep. Get to it.”
After breakfast, Cale and Sally conferred at the database console on the flight deck.
Cale had pulled out the binder, Sally was thumbing through the long box of CD’s.
“Okay, O-17 for the RCS schematics. S-41 for the antenna complex. And pull E-15 too. If we have a short, we’ll need it.”
Sally withdrew the appropriate discs from the box, “Where do you want to start?”
“The high gain.” Cale said.
Sally put the disc in the slot and the compact little computer sucked it in. After a moment of clicking with the mouse, she found the right file.
“Okay, here we go,” Cale said.
Sally zoomed in on the gimbal and motor mounts at the base. In silence, the pair of them studied the image.
“Looks like four bolts to open the panel,” Sally said.
“Unclip the wiring trunks there and there,” Cale said, tapping the areas on the screen.
“Then the connecting bolts on the top there and it should fall right out,” Sally continued.
Cale hefted the small box that contained the backup unit.
“Should be an easy matter to swap in the new one,” Cale said.
“We’ll need to test it while you’re still out there,” Sally said.
“Yeah, I can move to the fins and latch on. Should be okay as long as we don’t have another RCS misfire,” Cale said.
“Sergio in Aurora for backup, me on the flight deck?” Sally asked.
“Sounds like a plan. We’ll have Cynthia at the high-gain controls. What do you think? Maybe an hour, hour and a half outside?”
“Don’t try to set a speed record,” Sally admonished.
“Nah, but, you know, fair bit of radiation out there,” Cale said.
“Slow and smooth,” Sally said.
“Slow and smooth,” Cale repeated.
“It’s a good plan,” Sally said.
“Let’s see what Houston has to say about it,” Cale said.
“And if they know what happened to the RCS,” Sally said.
19 March 1999
Orion
Athena I
Flight Day 93
Bathed in the amber-white glow of Aurora’s internal floodlights, Cale watched the pressure gauges slowly spinning down to zero. At his side, Sergio sat strapped into the pilot’s couch. The Italian was taking no chances. Unlike Fletcher, he had no intention of so much as sticking his head out of the hatch unless it was absolutely necessary.
At twenty percent of standard pressure, something occurred to him.
“Hey, am I the first to walk beyond Earth?” he asked, looking through Aurora’s window into Orion’s cockpit.
“You’re not the first,” Sally said, from his seat on the flight deck.
“Who beat me?” Cale asked.
“Georgi Grechko on the Russian Venus flight back in ’78. Did a two-hour EVA to collect external samples,” Sally said.
“Space geek,” Cale said. “Are we farther out than they were?”
“How the heck should I know?” Sally said.
“When we get back, I’m looking it up,” he said.
“Before or after the world tour with the fifty-seven heads of state?” Cynthia asked over the radio.
He shrugged and watched the pressure gauge fall to zero. “Okay, we’re ready to open the hatch.”
“You’re go, Aurora,” Sally said. He could see her giving a small wave of affirmation. He pushed off from his seat and moved to the hatch.
There was a three-step lock that ensured the hatch could not be opened accidentally. He pulled the cover off the hatch handle, removed the security rod from the interlock, and then swung the hatch handle counter clockwise.
As it opened, he was confronted with the edge of the visible universe. An incredible blackness beyond anything he could experience on Earth.
“Okay, I’m heading out. Serge, stay sharp. We’re live.”
“Si,” Sergio said.
Cale cinched the toolbag tight across his shoulder. He checked his twin safety lines, tugging the carabiners slightly to reassure himself. Then swung himself slowly through the hatch.
In a couple of months, he’d be doing this on the sands of Ares Vallis. Only now instead of climbing down towards the wide end of the lander, he was climbing up, reaching out to crawl along the outer hull of Orion.
For the next twenty minutes he inchwormed his way over the hull, using the handholds that had been strategically placed when Orion’s wings were clipped. As he reached the now defunct OMS pods, the antenna complex came into view.
On the top of the science module, the high-gain and its mounting stood tall along the centerline. The wounded mechanism sat rigid, pointing along a line that Fletcher knew must lead back to Earth. He and Sally had used Orion’s RCS to aim the complex this morning ago. It would be a while before Earth would slip past the targeted beam. Until then, Houston would still have a good feed.
Not that they could do much to help. It would take several minutes to ask a question and get an answer. That’s why they’d gone through everything in minute detail yesterday. Houston had people who had studied every aspect of the antenna complex, and the route that Cale would take from Aurora’s hatch to the science module and back.
If he needed it, Sally could call up a step-by-step list of procedures for anything from the motor swap to unclipping a safety line. But this kind of work wasn’t new to Cale Fletcher. As he neared the antenna, he thought back on his first spacewalk sixteen years ago, when he’d fixed a broken solar panel on a wayward Mars probe.
Farsight II, he thought, maybe I’ll see her again when we get to Mars.
He straddled the curved hull of the science module, hooking his feet into separate grab holds. Addressing the motor housing, he pulled the zero-gravity screwdriver from the toolbag.
“Sally, I’m at the antenna complex. I’m taking off the cover panel now.”
“Copy. Hey, don’t mess with my scopes,” Sally said.
“I’ll give them a wide berth,” Cale said. Then he commenced with the repair.
After a few frustrating minutes, he radioed back.
“Sally, please inform Houston their handy dandy Buck Rogers screwdriver isn’t worth the fifty cents they must have paid for it.”
“Copy, Cale. I’ll pass that along,” Sally said, calmly.
“Gotta get classical with this,” he said, taking a standard screwdriver from the bag.
Rotation was always a problem in zero gravity. You’d turn a screw and it would turn you instead. Lever points were everything up here. Fortunately, his feet hooked into two different loops allowed for a more reliable anchor than he was used to. It took some effort, but soon the screws floated in open space right in front of him.
Before one could drift away, he tucked them into a pocket of his suit.
“Okay, I’m in. Confirm that the power is off in this area.”
“Confirm, power off,” Cynthia said.
Delicately, he began to dismantle the assembly. Starting with the electrical wiring trunks and methodically moving on to the connecting bolts.
The collection of motors and gears slid out smoothly. He noticed some damage to a couple of the gears. There had to be more damage internally, but that wasn’t his concern at the moment.
He set the assembly out in space, letting it float above his shoulder. Carefully, he opened the box that housed the replacement.
Twenty minutes later, he called in his progress.
“Okay, Orion. Repair complete. I’m retreating to the fins. Please don’t do anything until I’m there.”
“Copy you, Cale. We’re standing by. Take all the time you need,” Sally said.
Toting the damaged motors, Cale inchwormed back to the V formed by Orion’s original ruddervators. He secured safety lines to each fin and called it in.
“Stable here between the fins. Let’s power it up and see how she does.”
He watched for a moment. There was no movement.
“It’s not moving,” Cale said.
“Yeah, that’s ‘cause it’s still pointed at Earth. We need to swing it off axis. Cynthia angle it away and let’s see if it recovers,” Sally said.
“Swinging it over,” Cynthia said.
Again there was no movement.
“Not getting anything here,” Cynthia said.
Cale thought fast, “Uh, Cyn, cycle the circuit breaker on panel three. I think it just needs to reset,” Cale said.
“Stand by,” she said.
After a moment, he saw the antenna complex swing towards the starboard side of the ship.
“Getting good movement now,” Cynthia reported.
“Good deal. Now let’s see if it can find Earth again,” Cale said.
“Starting the HG targeting system,” Cynthia said.
He watched the antenna swing back to where it had been.
“Good lock on Earth,” Cynthia said.
“Whew, okay, crisis averted. I’m coming back in.”
20 March 1999
Orion
Athena I
Flight Day 94
Cale piped the morning report from Houston through the shipwide circuit. Victor Kaminsky was assigned to the CAPCOM desk today. His Minnesota accent was a reminder of home.
“Orion, Houston. Welcome to Flight Day ninety-four. If you’re hearing this, obviously your high-gain mount is in good working order. We’re happy to report that your fix seems to be working as expected.
“Engineering’s leading theory is still a short in the RCS quad B7. With that quad being suspect, we’re recommending that you hold off on transferring fuel back to its reserve tank. We’ve updated all future attitude corrections to leave out that quad. The system redundancies should allow us to leave it alone until you get back to Earth.
“We are still checking telemetry data from the RCS system. So far there have been no signs of trouble, but we didn’t see anything leading up to the malfunction either, so we’re going over it all from scratch.
“We’d like to get you back on schedule today. Updated to-do lists are being sent up along with this transmission. It’s a little more than you’re used to, but we think you can get through it. Cale, we’d like your report on the repairs to the old high-gain motors by the end of the day, if possible.”
Up in the service module, Sally was sending down bags of cereal and milk. Cale set the table with Sergio. Looking up, he could see Cynthia descending the ladder.
“As for personals, your mail dispatches are being routed to your personal drives. Cale, I recorded the Hornets game for you and had them put it on the back end of the uplink data. You might want to delete it when you’re done. That’s a big file. Sally, we’ve got updated targets for the telescope. We’re ditching the second half of the Aldebaran observations. We’d like you to switch to 1989D12. Updated coordinates are in your daily file.
“Other than that, the news back home is pretty standard fare. Orion is looking shipshape and we’re seeing good data from the HAB. As always, we’re here if anything comes up. Don’t be a stranger. Houston out.
Cale turned off the shipwide circuit and the crew sat down for breakfast.
23 April 1999
Aurora
Athena I
Flight Day 128
Cale pressed the button marked COV SEP. The amber light above it came on.
“Meteor cover separation confirmed,” Cale said.
“Two minutes to entry interface,” Sally said.
“Angle is good. Good lock on the HAB signal,” Cale said.
“Radar is primed. Thirty seconds out,” Sally said.
“Here we go,” Cale said.
“External temperature is rising,” Sally said.
“Right on cue,” Cale said.
“Heat shield integrity is holding,” Sally said. She paused for a moment, “Getting a lateral movement.”
“I see it. Compensating,” Cale said. He adjusted the control stick to the right.
“Not quite into the corridor. Temperature reading optimal plus eighteen percent,” Sally said.
“I’m gonna put us into a roll. See if I can shift out of it,” Cale said.
“Copy,” Sally said, the tension in her voice rising.
Cale rolled the ship to starboard. On the other side of the cabin, Sergio and Cynthia exchanged a nervous look.
The roll was slow, but effective. Twenty seconds later, the small white cone that represented Aurora was now aligned in the light purple cone that indicated the reentry corridor.
“Back in the lane. New LPD is showing ten miles downrange,” Sally said.
“Can’t be helped. Maybe we can shift it after shield sep,” Cale said.
“Coming through maximum heating. One minute to heat shield separation,” Sally said.
“Steady as she goes,” Cale said. His hand was rock rigid on the control stick.
Sally hit a button on her console, “Heat shield pyros armed.”
“Three… two…” Cale said.
“Separation,” Sally said. “Radar deployed.
“Copy separation. Do we have surface lock?” Cale said.
“Not yet,” Sally said.
“Drogue shoot in ten. We need the radar,” Cale said.
“Rebooting the radar,” Sally said.
He watched her cycle the system. The display in front of him lit up with scrolling numbers.
They spoke over each other. “Drogue armed, firing,” Cale said. “Radar lock on the surface,” Sally said.
A beat passed in silence.
“Main parachutes deployed,” Cale said.
An alarm began to blare. The faces of all the astronauts were flooded by an unnatural red light.
Sally pressed the red button to turn off the angry wailing. “Alarm 401. We’re not losing velocity.”
“What?” Cale said.
“We are, but not by the specs. Velocity numbers should be passing through eight-hundred. I’m seeing twelve-fifty,” Sally said.
“That’s too fast. Is it a bad chute?”
“I don’t know,” Sally said.
“I’m gonna use the retro reserve. Cutting the chute in five,” Cale said.
“That’s early,” Sally said.
“The retros will slow us faster. The chutes aren’t doing what they should,” Cale said.
“Copy,” Sally said.
“Cutting the mains,” Cale said, then hit the appropriate button.
The ship’s descent velocity began to rise.
“Passing three-thousand. We lost HAB signal,” Sally said.
“Too late now. Firing the retros,” Cale said.
He squeezed the trigger to fire the three retro rockets on Aurora’s angled hull. The fuel gauge cycled down. As it hit zero, the reserve gauge began to spin.
“Still too fast, three hundred feet!” Sally called.
“Gear deploying. Brace for impact,” Cale said.
The master alarm came back on. Sally didn’t bother turning it off.
Then, suddenly, all the screens and monitors went to full red. Every indicator spun back to zero. White text on the screens all gave the same readout:
IMPACT WITH TERRAIN – SIMULATION FAILED
Cale banged his helmet on the back of his couch, then let himself resettle into zero gravity.
“Aww, hell,” he said.
“We couldn’t shake the vertical velocity. We came in too fast,” Sally said.
“Did any of us survive?” Cale asked.
Sally pulled up a new screen. She scrolled through the data for a moment.
“Um, looks like twelve percent chance of survival for at least one crew member. Serious injuries all around,” Sally said.
“Lovely. So Sergio gets to trek to the HAB on a broken leg for ten miles,” Cale said.
“Fifteen. You lost some with the early chute cutting,” Sally said.
“Fuck,” Cale said. He took his helmet off. “Okay, simulation over. Cyn, Serge, head on back to Orion. Sally and I will safe the vehicle. You two have important sciency things to do.”
Cynthia and Sergio began to wriggle out of their suits and floated through the hatch that led to Orion.
Sally doffed her helmet and spun around, sitting on the back of her seat, floating over to reset a few switches.
“Why am I dead?” Cale asked.
Sally pulled up the simulation specs. She read through some notes, “Looks like Houston gave us a new wrinkle,” she said.
“Murderous bastards,” he said. “What was it?”
“The heat shield pyros. One of them failed. The extra weight drug us down.”
Cale banged his head softly with realization, “We should have kicked it with the landing gear.”
Sally nodded, “Yeah, that’s their fix.”
“Cynthia and Sergio are probably back there picking out tombstones,” he said.
“It’s one bad sim. You’ve had four good ones in the last month. And about a hundred back on Earth,” Sally said.
“That’s no comfort to a dead man,” Cale said.
Sally rolled her eyes, “Come off it Captain Maudlin. On a real flight, you’d feel the shield dragging. You’d know it from the start. The sims can’t give you that kind of feedback. You’re just staring at numbers.”
“Don’t patronize me. I’m a crater,” Cale said.
She settled back into the seat next to his, “It’s one bad run. Let it go. Houston will have a new fun way to try and kill you next week.”
“I’m gonna go over the data again,” Cale said.
“I’m gonna go make a sandwich,” Sally said. “Call me when your ghost-self decides to return to the land of the living.”
“The Romans thought Mars was red because it was the graveyard of their dead soldiers,” Cale said.
“Thanks, cause I haven’t been studying it for half of my natural life,” Sally said. “And you’re not a soldier… or Roman.”
“Nobody’s perfect,” Cale said.
“Let it go,” Sally said, then floated back through the hatch into Orion, in search of ham and bread.
6 May 1999
Orion
Athena I
Flight Day 141
“Cyn, did you get all that crap in the sci-module stowed away?” Cale asked.
“Yeah, yeah. We’re good.”
“Sergio, you feeling okay about the dumbbell retraction?”
“If I wasn’t, what would you suggest?”
Cale shrugged, “Fair enough. Sally Ride: talk to me.”
“Ship is ready for maneuvers. Reactor is spun up to one-hundred percent. Attitude alignment is verified and we’re getting good readings from the fuel sensors.”
“Three minutes and counting,” Cale said.
Mission rules required them to be in their launch suits, helmets on, on the flight deck. For the life of him, Cale could not figure out why. If something went wrong, a recovery suit would be slightly more useful than a good pair of pajamas. The helmet might at least protect them if there was a malfunction with the burn, but malfunctions that bad would likely include family-sized quantities of radiation.
Out the window, all he could see was black sky and white stars. The requirements for the burn meant that Orion would approach Mars flying backwards over the night side.
“Acquisition of HAB signal in two minutes,” Sally said.
“We’ll be in the burn by then,” Cale said.
“Just saying,” Sally said.
“Sure. Thirty seconds. Here we go. Everyone strapped in tight?” he asked.
By now, the crew knew that Cale liked to ask the occasional whimsical rhetorical at times of tension.
“Three, two… ignition,” Sally said.
On the tick, the Zeus engines came to full power, slowing the stack from an escaping parabola into a long ellipse. For six minutes the crew was pressed into their seats with an acceleration they had not felt in months. The rumble from the engines was reduced to a dull roar and then finally fell to stone silence.
As weightlessness returned, Sally pulled up the readouts.
“Burn complete. Good on the gauges,” she said.
“TC alpha is green. Engine safe, command override off,” Cale said.
“Command override off, confirmed,” Sally said.
“Engine safe,” Cale said.
“Roger, engine safe,” Sally said
“Reactor to condition three,” Cale said.
“Confirmed. Temperature readings normalizing,” Sally said.
“Okay. Good deal. How long until the circularization burn?”
“Three hours, twelve minutes,” Sally said.
“Very well,” Cale said. He unscrewed the ring that connected his helmet to his suit. He took it off and turned to look back at his mission specialists. “We’re good for now. See if you can get any readings off the surface radar.”
“It’s a little early for that, isn’t it?” Cynthia asked.
“Might as well give it a try,” Cale said.
Cynthia unbuckled and headed for the science module.
“Sally, you want to see if we can pull up Phobos on the scope?”
“Absolutely,” Ride said, excitedly. She unbuckled as well to follow Cynthia.
Calling back over her shoulder, she asked, “You okay waiting for the temps to stabilize?”
“I got it. Go look at your big space potato,” Fletcher said.
He waved to Sergio to come to the forward seat to join him. The geologist bounced off the ceiling and hovered over Sally’s chair.
“Shall I pull up the HAB data?” Sergio asked.
“Eh, it’ll be there. Won’t do us much good for a while,” he said. Then he keyed his microphone, “Cynthia, can we get a line-of-sight on Farsight Seven?”
“Not yet. It’s too far north. Best we can do for a relay is the MWS, but that’s ten minutes out,” Cynthia said.
“Roger that,” Cale said.
He relaxed in his seat, unclenching for the first time in an hour. Sergio joined him in his silent contemplation. That was one of the Italian’s best qualities. He knew when to let the silence speak for itself.
Cale spent a few minutes contemplating the black shadow that dominated the view. Mars was down there, bathed in near total darkness. Close enough to touch, but as invisible as a phantom. There wasn’t much longer to wait.
As his radio crackled to life, he put a finger to his earpiece, “Orion, this is Houston. We’ve broadcast this to intercept you at ship’s time 14:32:07. If you’re seeing that on your chronometer, we expect you’ve achieved orbit. Congratulations.”
Cale looked down and noted the clock on the center console counting up from that time. Not bad for government work.
“I’ve got Phobos!” Sally called out.
The little moon wasn’t visible out of the forward screen, but Sally’s scopes could see most of the sky at any given moment.
He smiled. He loved seeing the brainiacs at work. His knowledge of astronomy, geology and astrophysics had started much later in life for him than for his crew. At times he still felt like a substitute teacher overseeing a classroom of geniuses on history’s most incredible field trip. Odd to feel inferior while looking down on a new world.
An orange ray of light came into view. He immediately keyed his headset, “Sally, Cyn: drop what you’re doing and come to the flight deck.”
They arrived in less than twenty seconds, “What’s up?” Sally said.
“You gotta see this,” Cale said.
“Oh wow,” Cynthia said, moving towards the forward window.
“Oh, that’s so beautiful,” Sally said.
“Soak it in boys and girls. It’s the first of many,” Cale said.
And as the light of the sun bathed the ship in a golden hue, the crew of Orion became the first humans to witness a sunrise over the planet Mars.
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For the record, the opening section of this latest chapter was lifted from a very good twentieth-century film. I have no wish to plagiarize anything, but I do like to throw in the occasional homage. I hope my readers will view such things with indulgence and see it as a tribute, rather than theft. Should it bother anyone, I would remind you that Ocean of Storms is a completely not-for-profit venture.
Welcome to Mars!
Welcome to Mars!
This is a good one, and very believable
Meters and Feet--always a risk factor
An absolutely incredibly moving post.
The entire story kept me glued to my screen--to the point where the kitties had to wait for me to finish before I would feed them. Just incredible.
It makes me wish things had gone this way in OTL.
Always great stuff, with one minor issue - the Latin on the Orion badge should be Ex Marte, Scientia.
Three years of latin in high school and I'm still making rookie mistakes. Mrs. Ringer would have slapped my face.
Thanks for the help. I'll make that fix next chance I get.
Were they wanted the word Mars in there in the form everyone will recognize
The Food Specialists have the tougher job. The Drive people only have to worry about and work with things like Physics, Engineering and Reality whereas the Food Services people have to work with Human Beings and all their faults, phobias and dietary restrictions.... Now to mention getting anything to taste good in microgravity without tons so spices
Randy
Pretty much.The Food Specialists have the tougher job. The Drive people only have to worry about and work with things like Physics, Engineering and Reality whereas the Food Services people have to work with Human Beings and all their faults, phobias and dietary restrictions.... Now to mention getting anything to taste good in microgravity without tons so spices
Randy
Food has to taste alright, be storable for a long time, have all the calories and possibly vitamins, not break dietary restrictions (Oh god, the dietary restrictions), and on a budget that's affordable.
Just thought I'd share this. Technology is good, but there are certain times where you need a cerebral cortex.
I started playing around with ChatGPT and I asked it to write something on the premise:
astronaut Cale Fletcher encounters a problem with his spaceship "Orion"
Here's what it came up with. It's not bad, but I like mine better.
Cale Fletcher, a seasoned astronaut, was on a routine mission to explore a distant planet when he encountered a problem with his spaceship, the Orion. He had just completed his latest round of scientific experiments when he noticed a warning light blinking on his control panel.
Cale frowned, his heart racing as he checked the readings. Something was wrong with the propulsion system, and the Orion wasn't responding to his commands. He ran a quick diagnostic check, hoping it was just a minor glitch, but the results were clear: the system had malfunctioned, and he was stuck in space.
Cale took a deep breath, trying to remain calm despite the rising panic in his chest. He knew he had to act fast if he wanted to survive. He went through his emergency protocols, searching for a solution, but none of them seemed to work.
As he gazed out of the window, he could see the planet he had been studying slowly getting smaller in the distance. The reality of the situation hit him hard - he was stranded, alone, and running out of options.
But Cale was a resourceful astronaut, and he wasn't ready to give up yet. He pulled out his tools and began to dismantle the propulsion system, piece by piece, trying to find the source of the malfunction.
Hours passed, and Cale worked tirelessly, determined to fix the problem. His fingers grew numb, and his eyes grew heavy, but he refused to give up.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he found the issue: a tiny wire had come loose, disrupting the entire system. Cale reconnected it, and the propulsion system sprang to life.
Relief washed over him as he started the engines and began his journey back to Earth. It had been a close call, but Cale had triumphed over adversity once again, proving that even in the most challenging circumstances, he could rely on his training, ingenuity, and determination to overcome any obstacle.
I started playing around with ChatGPT and I asked it to write something on the premise:
astronaut Cale Fletcher encounters a problem with his spaceship "Orion"
Here's what it came up with. It's not bad, but I like mine better.
Cale Fletcher, a seasoned astronaut, was on a routine mission to explore a distant planet when he encountered a problem with his spaceship, the Orion. He had just completed his latest round of scientific experiments when he noticed a warning light blinking on his control panel.
Cale frowned, his heart racing as he checked the readings. Something was wrong with the propulsion system, and the Orion wasn't responding to his commands. He ran a quick diagnostic check, hoping it was just a minor glitch, but the results were clear: the system had malfunctioned, and he was stuck in space.
Cale took a deep breath, trying to remain calm despite the rising panic in his chest. He knew he had to act fast if he wanted to survive. He went through his emergency protocols, searching for a solution, but none of them seemed to work.
As he gazed out of the window, he could see the planet he had been studying slowly getting smaller in the distance. The reality of the situation hit him hard - he was stranded, alone, and running out of options.
But Cale was a resourceful astronaut, and he wasn't ready to give up yet. He pulled out his tools and began to dismantle the propulsion system, piece by piece, trying to find the source of the malfunction.
Hours passed, and Cale worked tirelessly, determined to fix the problem. His fingers grew numb, and his eyes grew heavy, but he refused to give up.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he found the issue: a tiny wire had come loose, disrupting the entire system. Cale reconnected it, and the propulsion system sprang to life.
Relief washed over him as he started the engines and began his journey back to Earth. It had been a close call, but Cale had triumphed over adversity once again, proving that even in the most challenging circumstances, he could rely on his training, ingenuity, and determination to overcome any obstacle.
Looks like we've got the next best seller here
More seriously, ChatGPT has become rather scary for the amount of 'work' it now does NOT take to produce higher quality SOUNDING (and often looking) videos that can be spammed on subjects. The fact they sound (and again often look) higher quality but with little or no actual 'substance' to them is worrying.
(And yes WE like yours better as well
) Randy
I actually got the reference to the opening words of Capricorn One with the "Paul Cunningham" name without having to Google. 😀
As for the Turtledoves, well done. When you have finished, please don't forget to put the chapters in "Finished Timelines", as I think it would go quite well. Once again, congrats.
I updated the Latin on the Orion patch (thank you @UrbanNight for the tap on the shoulder).
As some of you have shown interest in the patches, I wanted to give a bit of background.
For those of you who love Arthur as much as I do, you might have recognized the inspiration for the Orion patch. It's obscure, but here it is:
The roundel is a good nod to America without being too overt. The Latin is, of course, an update of the Apollo 13 motto, (which is, itself, an update of the Annapolis motto). Cale Fletcher, like myself, hides a classical education under Southern charm and he would know the references and respect them.
As with Apollo 11, the crew made the choice to leave their own names off, allowing all of humanity to claim it as their own.
I look forward to showing you more designs in future posts. I have discovered that, much like writing, graphic design is not something that one must excel at to enjoy.
As some of you have shown interest in the patches, I wanted to give a bit of background.
For those of you who love Arthur as much as I do, you might have recognized the inspiration for the Orion patch. It's obscure, but here it is:
As for the Athena patch, I spent a lot of time sketching ideas and going through symbols. A lot of those will be future patches for later Athena missions, but for Athena 1, I really liked the image of the Parthenon as representing both Athena herself and a link to the classical past. The constellation Orion guards over the Martian surface. The crescent Earth (much larger than it would ever appear on Mars) represents all of humanity. One element that was accidental but welcome was in the fade of the Martian sky. My original plan was to go with the orange-to-pale tint that the real Martian sky offers, but I was playing with blues and found that the blue to black fade really gave off a sense of sunrise over the surface. With this being the first mission, I thought "dawn" worked really well as a symbol, and so you see the start of a new day reflected in the patch.
I look forward to showing you more designs in future posts. I have discovered that, much like writing, graphic design is not something that one must excel at to enjoy.