Great new chapter. This continues to fascinate and captivate me in much the same way the OTL Apollo program did when I was less than 10 and following it as closely as a kid could. In reading this, I got a taste of what I felt all those years ago -- wonder and awe and a sense of limitless possibility in a future I would live in. Well done.
Ocean of Storms: A Timeline of A Scientific America
- Thread starter BowOfOrion
- Start date
Turns out, I've forgotten to check back in and missed the last couple of chapters! Catching up now, and I have to say, WOW. You continue to do nothing but impress Bow. I was worried when I saw the crew of Apollo 19. Interesting choice of astronaut to deliver the 'better to die in pursuit of space than die on the ground' speech, considering.
Most excited to see what you dig out next. Are you doing any sort of budget math to see how feasible the additional equipment would cost? It seems that each mission takes a completely different set of equipment, but I was under the impression that things like the MOLEM or LFU would be available for every mission after development. Is there a reason why it hasn't been manifested again?
Now, to complain - why no worm logo?
I always much preferred it for the simpler/cleaner nature. The meatball always felt too over designed to me, plus it suffers from a myriad of reproduction issues as a result of the fine details.
Most excited to see what you dig out next. Are you doing any sort of budget math to see how feasible the additional equipment would cost? It seems that each mission takes a completely different set of equipment, but I was under the impression that things like the MOLEM or LFU would be available for every mission after development. Is there a reason why it hasn't been manifested again?
Now, to complain - why no worm logo?
I always much preferred it for the simpler/cleaner nature. The meatball always felt too over designed to me, plus it suffers from a myriad of reproduction issues as a result of the fine details.
- I wanted to use See and Bassett since they'd been specially requested by @DaveJ576 - Rather than try to gloss over their deaths, I wanted to do something to acknowledge that there is something to be said for dying in the pursuit of something. I meant for their use to be respectful and not glib, so I hope I hit the mark. To write alternate history is often to find oneself putting words in the mouths of great persons. One can only hope to tread lightly.
- I've touched on this before, but I'm happy to state it clearly. I have done little to no budget work whatsoever for Ocean of Storms and have no intention to. I think it's impressive that other timelines can get into the gritty details of budget reports and development costs. I simply don't have the patience for that level of detail, nor could I do it with the kind of accuracy that's been demonstrated. Rather than compete on that front, I'd rather go in another direction.
My favorite writer famously said that he'd rather tell a good story than a true story. My only objective here is to entertain. I have no other gods before the entertainment value of the work. There is no way I could tell the stories that I want to tell if I had to figure out how to pay for each adventure. For what it's worth, I've tried to cover for that by emphasizing the public interest in the flights, as a way of handwaving NASA's budget. I can't be as accurate as Eyes Turned Skyward, or Right Side Up. I'm doing all I can just to be interesting.
Having said that, the MOLEM has not had its last ride. Apollo 20 will put one to good use in our next chapter. Apollo Phase II has 2 launches for every landing. A mission either gets a MOLEM or a LM Shelter. 18 and 19 used the Shelter, but both have their place. The LFU/LESS system is now part and parcel for every landing. No astronaut will be left without one.
-As far as the worm logo, that's just a bit of whimsy on my part (you'll find much of that in this timeline). I honestly don't hate the worm, I just felt like that was good material and a bit of comic relief after (what I hope was) a rather intense story. I felt the worm was a lateral move, but, like religion, it's an individual choice.
As always, thanks for reading!
PS - By way of generating some interest, (and comments) I'd like to open the floor for suggestions on names for the Clipper fleet. Without giving too much away, I'll say that there will be 2 primary categories of names. One will be "America-themed", one will be "Science/Exploration - themed". Feel free to suggest as much as you'd like. There are no bad answers except for the ones that are bad.
And... go!
@BowOfOrion,I don’t know how many Clippers you plan on flying,but assuming a multi-vehicle fleet (and that the Clippers are a first-generation Shuttle (late ‘70s to mid-to-late ‘90s)):
America-themed:
Columbia (1st generation)
Republic (same)
Eagle (same)
Freedom (2nd generation?)
Exploration:
1st generation
Enterprise
Discovery
2nd generation
Endeavour
Orion
Pegasus (?)
America-themed:
Columbia (1st generation)
Republic (same)
Eagle (same)
Freedom (2nd generation?)
Exploration:
1st generation
Enterprise
Discovery
2nd generation
Endeavour
Orion
Pegasus (?)
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@BowOfOrion I'm loving the excitement and scale of your work!
Name suggestions
American - America, Liberty
American Explorers - Wilkes
Exploration ships - Advance, Bear, Endurance, Hope, Investigator, Nautilus, Sirius, Triton, Victoria, Vincennes
Exploration - Adventure, Intrepid, Pathfinder
Name suggestions
American - America, Liberty
American Explorers - Wilkes
Exploration ships - Advance, Bear, Endurance, Hope, Investigator, Nautilus, Sirius, Triton, Victoria, Vincennes
Exploration - Adventure, Intrepid, Pathfinder
I touched on it a bit in chapter VI and it will be discussed further in upcoming chapters, but, essentially, the Clipper will be an evolution of the X-20 coupled with some of the features of Apollo and OTL Shuttle.
My working theory regarding OTL Shuttle was that it was designed to do too much and that many of the tasks it was required to do could have been performed by other means. Ocean of Storms will explore this theory.
What kind of rocket will be boosting this thing? I have some ideas for a ‘Clipper-Lifter’
I'm playing that card close to the chest. Suffice it to say, if anyone manages to guess what I've got planned, I'll be a little disappointed (and impressed). Feel free to speculate though.
For ease of conversation, I'll tell you that the system which brings Clipper to orbit will be called Pegasus.
Let me suggest that your booster be a Heinlein Catapult built on Pikes Peak.
The Man Who Sold the Moon by Robert Heinlein (1949).
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Man_Who_Sold_the_Moon
His First Man on the Moon used a direct launch multi-stage chemical rocket.
His SECOND Man on the Moon used a catapult built atop Pikes Peak, near Colorado Springs in lieu of a first stage booster.
There's that breathless moment after the ship breaks free of the catapult as everyone watches with bated breath to see if the engines light.
Pure Heinlein.
Well, the first question in my mind - what is the mission envelope for Clipper? Is it meant to replace Apollo Block 2 for lunar sorties?
Assuming it isn't lunar capable, that makes things a fair bit easier... well, not really. Still a lot of options. Second question immediately becomes, is Pegasus based on a real proposed design (like many of the things shown here so far) or is it original to this timeline (as the Clipper appears to be)?
Third question (is this just cheating? WAG'ing isn't that fun for me
) is, how exotic is Pegasus? It could just be some new combination of existing rocket technology, but it could also be reusable, it could use NERVA or slush hydrogen or FLOX (no) or some other crazy drawing board idea. I personally don't know a ton about that sort of stuff, but I could see it being introduced as a macguffin for enabling further missions...Fourth, assuming the answer to the second and third questions are 'real' and 'existing', respectively... well, it can be narrowed down again. Saturn derived? Titan derived? Atlas (!) derived? Hmmm...
Unrelated, but are there any plans to explore other areas of spaceflight? Unmanned missions (Voyager 67/73?), other countries? It's of course fine and possibly even better to limit the scope of writing to keep things manageable, but that was always one of the most exciting parts of Eyes was that it covered the spaceflight developments for the rest of the world. However I think that took quite a bit of extra planning and research, and I think a broader focus is aided by monetary considerations to serve as a general guide (which you have said isn't a focus of this timeline).
I'll be getting into your other questions in future posts. As far as the unmanned missions, it's something that I plan to cover, I'm just trying to figure out how best to do that. As most of you have surmised, I'm not wild about just flopping down exposition. Everything is based in a story structure. As it's difficult to give dialog to an unmanned probe, I'm still working on ways to incorporate what's happening with unmanned spaceflight. I've got drafts that talk about a Voyager-analog, but I'm not happy with the writing. Until I am, you'll have to wait. For that, I apologize.
In regards to what's happening with the Soviet space program, that will be explored in future posts. My reasons for not dealing with the CCCP are purely due to story.
Having been a fan of Batman in the 1990's I can verify that it's important to limit the number of antagonists in a story. For Act I of Ocean of Storms, our primary villain has been the Moon itself. More accurately, it's been the dangers of manned spaceflight. That's a challenging enough villain without bringing in another. As we move further into the story, lunar exploration will not be as fraught with danger as it was initially and it will be necessary to bring new sources of antagonism into the story.
For now, suffice it to say that I have not forgotten about the Soviet Union, and their response to American spaceflight activity will be as interesting as I can make it.
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Good God Bow, that last chapter was absolutely fantastic! Elliot See and Charlie Bassett have been vindicated at last. That really tugs at the heart. My fondest hope is that their children will see this some day and take solace.
I have a great deal of respect for Deke Slayton, but his treatment of See following the crash and in his later memoirs was deplorable and disgusting and it has tempered my opinion of him. He and many others within the astronaut corps turned their backs on See when in virtually every other case of pilot error within their ranks they closed together and defended their brother vigorously. I have my own opinions as to why, but it is only speculation. See did not deserve the tarring and feathering his memory got, and poor Charlie Bassett and his legacy got caught in the middle.
For an interesting discussion about See and Bassett's final flight check out this link: http://www.collectspace.com/ubb/Forum29/HTML/001233.html. Read through the whole thing and consider what some of the professional pilots say. There are strong opinions on both sides, and there are quite a few that defend See. If these aviators could give him the benefit of the doubt, then why couldn't his brother astronauts?
As a Navy Chief Petty Officer I feel compelled to nitpick your description of Elliot See as being Air Force. See was a carrier qualified Naval Aviator and a Navy Reservist and conducted a full tour of duty during his employment with General Electric.
Please continue this amazing work. Your writing style is quite compelling and would make a fine novel.
I have a great deal of respect for Deke Slayton, but his treatment of See following the crash and in his later memoirs was deplorable and disgusting and it has tempered my opinion of him. He and many others within the astronaut corps turned their backs on See when in virtually every other case of pilot error within their ranks they closed together and defended their brother vigorously. I have my own opinions as to why, but it is only speculation. See did not deserve the tarring and feathering his memory got, and poor Charlie Bassett and his legacy got caught in the middle.
For an interesting discussion about See and Bassett's final flight check out this link: http://www.collectspace.com/ubb/Forum29/HTML/001233.html. Read through the whole thing and consider what some of the professional pilots say. There are strong opinions on both sides, and there are quite a few that defend See. If these aviators could give him the benefit of the doubt, then why couldn't his brother astronauts?
As a Navy Chief Petty Officer I feel compelled to nitpick your description of Elliot See as being Air Force. See was a carrier qualified Naval Aviator and a Navy Reservist and conducted a full tour of duty during his employment with General Electric.
Please continue this amazing work. Your writing style is quite compelling and would make a fine novel.
Thanks for the kind words, and the note. I must have mixed up my notes when writing that paragraph. It's been corrected now. I appreciate the tap on the shoulder.
I am about 3/4 of the way finished with my post for Apollo 20. I hope to have it done this weekend. I've been traveling on business for the last couple of weeks, so that's been challenging, but has given me some unique opportunities to write.
XX: Brass, Gold, & Other Heavy Metals
Brass, Gold, & Other Heavy Metals
9 March 1973
Manned Spacecraft Center
Houston, TX
29° 33’ 47” N 95° 05’ 28” W
No one had objected when Deke Slayton made the request. It was understandable that he’d want the assignment and he certainly had enough seniority that no one would dare deny him.
The relationship that he had with Al went beyond mere friendship, beyond the camaraderie born of colleagues who shared dangerous work. These men were echoes of one another, and they recognized a bond that the controlled chaos of their lives would never unravel.
Deke’s job was to assign astronauts, a position that made him akin to a royal figure within NASA’s hierarchy. He longed more than anything else to slip the surly bonds himself, but heart palpitations had kept him Earthbound for his entire career. To make matters worse, he was free to assign anyone he wanted, except for his closest friend, Alan Shepard. To Deke, it felt like a dilemma born of the Old Testament.
Al had been grounded from Meniere’s disease, an inner ear issue that caused vertigo, ringing in the ears and hearing loss. It seemed a disease almost targeted to destroy an astronaut’s career.
For Shepard, the path out of his purgatory was through a tube smaller than a match head. A tympanostomy tube, inserted into his ear canal, provided a restoration to flight status. After the Apollo 9 debacle, he strolled into Deke’s office, armed with the good news and a request for a commander’s seat on a lunar landing flight. Deke had been happy to oblige.
The devastating rejection of Shepard’s command, by a NASA brass concerned with his training and flight experience, was seen by both Al and Deke as a personal insult to their judgment and skill in their respective positions.
Today was a vindication.
So, pulling rank for the privilege of delivering the good news, at the start of Maroon Team’s shift, Slayton took over the CAPCOM console and a short time later, gave the call he’d been hoping to make for most of the last decade, “Antares, you are go for landing. Repeat, Al, you’re go for landing.”
“Thanks, Deke. We’re headed downstairs, gonna hop in the Corvette for a nice little road trip.”
With the rejection of Shepard from the crew of Apollo 13, Deke had initially been worried about getting him a later landing flight, but that fear was largely alleviated by NASA’s purchase of another round of Saturn V’s. The extra batch had ensured at least three more landings beyond the initial plan, which meant that Al had been willing to put up with longer training programs on new equipment in exchange for a flight later in the program.
When the first MOLEM had rolled off the line at the beginning of 1971, Al had fallen in love. Even he admitted that it was strange for a natural-born flyer to enjoy a ground vehicle as much as this, but, realizing that the craft would allow him to stay on the Moon longer and go farther than anyone had ever gone, he jumped at the chance to become an expert in each of its systems.
When the ambitious cross-country trek of Apollo 20 was announced, the brass had given its whole-hearted recommendation to Shepard to command the journey.
There had been an informal request, first from Grumman, then from NASA brass, to let the autopilot program handle the landing from the initiation of powered descent through touchdown. So far, after eight manned landings, no mission commander had been able to resist taking manual control. Shepard had acknowledged the request, and the need for it, before liftoff last week, but he was not likely to let a computer do his job for him.
Initially, they’d sent two test pilots to the Moon. These days they were sending one test pilot with some science training and one scientist with some pilot training. Eventually, all of the crews would be scientists and there would be no need for anything remotely as fun as flying a LEM manually. Until that day came, test pilots would always be test pilots.
Six minutes out, Ed Gibson, the scientist who was officially known as the Lunar Module Pilot, started checking the radar data. It was a little early for the landing radar, but other flights had gotten it as high up as forty-thousand feet and Ed was optimistic about Antares getting a lock on the surface early.
It was his first disappointment of the flight.
Gibson, true to his pilot training, stated the problem in a clear and calm voice, “We still have velocity and altitude lights.”
“I’m betting they know that Ed,” Shepard stated, wryly grinning under his helmet.
Back at Houston, Slayton, now in the secondary seat at CAPCOM, looked over his shoulder to the flight controller’s console.
Gerry Griffin, head of the Orange Team, looked to his right, “CONTROL, give me something.”
“Flight, radar’s reading full nines. Let’s have them cycle the circuit breaker. See if that will get it to reset.”
Griffin didn’t verbally acknowledge the suggestion, but just looked at Fred Haise who was primary CAPCOM.
“Antares, Houston. Cycle the landing radar breaker for us.”
To his left, Shepard pulled the breaker out of its slot and then reinserted it, “Roger, Houston. It’s cycled.”
“Come on radar,” Gibson said, his eyes locked on the display pad between them.
With a cold indifference that could only be found in a computer system, the radar display came back up +99999.
Gibson relayed the bad news, “Negative, Houston. Still full nines. No change on that fix, over.”
Shepard called out the aggs data, “Coming through eighteen-thousand now, Houston. What else can we try, over?”
From a quarter million miles away, the call came back, “Antares, try cycling it again.”
Shepard bit his lip and pulled and pushed the breaker one more time. He was losing confidence in this plan.
The display winked to grey and came back, as it had before showing full nines: +9999.
“No joy, Houston. Still no good data out of the radar.”
While they passed through thirteen-thousand, Gibson turned off his hot mike to remind Shepard of what was about to happen, “Rules say radar by ten-thousand or we abort.”
“I can land this thing without radar if we have to.”
Gibson was encouraging, “We’ll have to level off even if we abort.”
“Yeah, so when we get into 66, we’ll level off and if we can spot Buffalo. Hell, I can take it from there.”
“The radar’s not coming up. Al, if you break that rule…”
“I’m forty-nine years old Ed. This was always gonna be my last flight.”
“They’re gonna tell us to abort,” Gibson said.
“They’re about to,” Shepard confirmed.
Sure enough, the call came in from the ground, “Antares, Houston. We recommend you abort.”
Shepard sighed. It had been a very good career.
“Houston, Antares... negative. We are going to proceed through 64 and pitchover. Do you copy?”
Gerry Griffin looked at Haise and Slayton at the CAPCOM station, “What the hell did he just say?”
Haise was stunned, but Slayton put a steady hand on his shoulder and keyed his mike, “Al, this is Deke. I know what this means buddy, but you can’t land without the radar. You’ve got to abort, brother.”
There was a silence as Antares passed through twelve-thousand feet… or rather, what its inertial system had calculated was twelve-thousand feet. Without the radar, it could be a very different number indeed.
“Deke, when you said all that just now, did you really think there was any chance I’d abort?”
Slayton shook his head wistfully. Oh, what the hell…”No, Al. Not a doubt in my mind.”
“Okay. Ed, what’s Descent Fuel 2 saying?”
“You’re good, but it’ll be tight if we have to hover.”
“That’s the conservative estimate. What’s DF1 saying?”
“A little better…”
“Okay. Here we go. Program 64.”
Gibson felt a lurch rumble his stomach as Antares pitched over.
In Houston, more for the recorders than his own knowledge, Griffin turned to his CONTROL man one more time, “CONTROL, is there any way we can abort them from here?”
“Negative, flight.” CONTROL responded.
Griffin knew that before he’d asked the question, but he wanted a record of it for the later analysis. With the formality out of the way, he turned back to the monitors and pushed his headphones closer to his ear.
Gibson relayed the inertial data as they got their first view, “Seven thousand.”
“There it is!” Shepard said, “Houston, Antares. We’ve spotted the Buffalo!”
The flashing light on top of the MOLEM had only enough battery power for ten minutes of operating time.
“Oh man, no way we’re at seven-thousand,” Gibson said.
“I’m betting more like five. Fuel?”
“You’ve got the gas. Slow it down.”
Shepard throttled up and slowed their descent rate. His depth perception was tricky without an atmosphere between him and his target. That was one thing that was hard to simulate on Earth. You could practice looking through vacuum, but with everything going on, it was a wholly different thing to remember that there was literally nothing between your eye and what it was looking at.
Still, a pilot is a pilot no matter what he’s flying over, and Alan Shepard knew his life had been building to this moment.
“Forget the altitude numbers. Inertial doesn’t know what it’s talking about anyways. I make it 4500. You agree?”
“Within reason, Al. Can you put her down?”
“I didn’t come this far to stop at the last mile,” Shepard said. He nosed the Antares over and sighted the little mound that he’d seen from orbit yesterday. The one they’d decided weeks ago would be a nice spot to put down.
“Al, you want to try it one more time?” Gibson said, nodding at the circuit breaker panel.
“Sure, why not?” Shepard said, giving the breaker one more out-in cycle to try and clear the infinity lock.
+99999
“Worth a shot,” Shepard said, resigned.
“Inertial has you at 75 feet per second,” Gibson said.
“Okay, I’m adjusting LPD. Houston, I’ve got Buffalo for visual reference and a clear spot for the LPD. Do you have anything for me?”
Haise’s call came as they passed through what the computer said was four-thousand feet, but they figured was closer to two, “Antares, Houston. Still recommending abort.”
“Roger, understand. Gonna give this a shot anyways,” Shepard said.
Shepard had lived and breathed landing procedures for the last year. He’d intentionally run sims without radar guidance and on a few occasions, he’d actually survived. Still, there was no fear now. This was why they didn’t send computers. This was why you needed a pilot. This was why he was here.
“One thousand now. Gotta be. LPD at 39. Ed, what’s the H-dot?”
“Twenty-six, Al. If you’re right, we’re right on the money.”
“It’s got to be close,” Shepard said, “Look at the angle on Buffalo.”
“Eighteen for H-dot. Almost there.”
“Taurus-Littrow here we come.”
“Are you gonna level her out?”
“Not totally. I don’t think we have that kind of time. Percentage?” Shepard asked.
“Ten.”
“Tight, but we’re okay.”
“Figure it two-hundred?”
“Thereabouts.”
“Al…” the tone in Gibson’s voice spoke volumes.
“It’s fine. Keep your eye out for the quantity light. Seventy-five. Ground is next.”
“There’s your quantity, Al. Down to five now.” The angry aircraft red light blinked on to Al’s right.
“Little dust here.”
“Yep. Kicking up a bit. Gotta be there.”
“H-dot?”
“Three. Can’t do much better. Ease her down, skipper.”
“Forty… thirty… fifteen…” Shepard called. Estimating from long experience.
“Contact light!” Gibson called.
“Okay, kill it.”
“Engine stop.”
Shepard’s teeth rattled as Antares finished the final five feet in freefall.
“Whoa… on the ground.”
“Holy cow.”
“Houston, Valley Base. Antares is safe in the valley of Taurus Littrow.”
For the rest of the flight, from the long lunar traverse and all the way through splashdown, no radio transmissions addressed the gross insubordination of Commander Shepard during the final 4 minutes of the PDI sequence. All official statements on the matter were confined to the final flight debriefing and subsequently misplaced in all official NASA archives.
13 March 1973
Apollo 20
MET: 210:42:50
20°15'26" N 28°12'18" E
A thousand robots would never have found it. And even had one managed to spot it, there would have been little reason for excitement, let alone the bonanza of attention that would follow.
In retrospect, it was inevitable that such a thing would be located. After all, there’s nothing particularly special about the element and nothing particularly special about the Moon, compared with the other rocks that the Solar System has to offer.
Still, like deSoto, Raleigh, and Cortez, Ed Gibson got very excited when he spotted that most precious of metals. The one that had driven men mad for centuries.
“Al, look over there.”
“What are you seeing Ed?”
“In that outcropping. About a foot off the surface. Do you see it?”
“Holy…”
“Yeah. I think that might be what I think it is.”
“Let me park the…”
“Yeah, we’ve got to take a closer look.”
Shepard keyed the radio, “Houston, this is the Buffalo. We’ve sighted an unusual outcropping of rock and we’d like to go in for a closer look. Do you copy?”
It took a long moment for the radio call to confirm, but Shepard was already bringing the MOLEM to a halt.
“Buffalo, Houston. Can you give us an idea of what you’re seeing?”
“Looks like…” Al started.
Ed put a hand on his shoulder, “It’s a potential geologic anomaly. Could be a sulfur compound or possibly heavy metal.”
Al’s look was enough of a question mark. Ed turned off his relay. “If we’re wrong, I’d rather we not look like Yosemite Sam.”
Al nodded. Shepard was the commander, but at this point, he felt like the escort for his scientist. Might as well trust his read on a science situation.
Houston responded, “Roger, Buffalo. You’re go for parking and EVA. Al, we’d like you to give us a wheel check after you get out there.”
“Copy that.”
Al finished with the spoke replacement and walked over to where Ed was chopping away at the canyon wall. As he strolled over, he looked around at the canyon and was astounded.
“My God, this place is beautiful. Ed, I’m coming up behind you. Be careful with that hammer.”
“Sure thing, Al. Take a look here.”
Gibson handed him what they’d come for.
It was an irregular rounded lump, maybe half the size of a football. Shepard had to take a step to adjust himself to handle the rock. Even in this low gravity, it had almost tipped him over, more out of surprise than anything else.
“Wow. That’s just beautiful. Is there more?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Can you take that over to the camera and give them a couple of close-ups?”
“I’d be honored,” Shepard said, reverently holding this unique sample.
Ed made the initial call. He was the scientist after all.
“Houston, this is Ed. What we’ve got here is a sample of gold.”
The response took much longer than the light-seconds demanded, “Ed, did you say gold?”
“Confirm that. Yes. Looks like a vein of it in the canyon wall here. It’s low on the wall, looks like it extends back into the rock a ways. I’ve knocked out a decent sized sample which Al is about to show you on the TV. I’m taking some shots now which will hopefully show the striations around this.”
Back in Houston, they saw Shepard bounding slowly towards the camera, holding the glittering gold and grey rock in his hand like he was offering a treat to a hungry dog.
Shepard tilted the camera down to make sure the light hit the rock. The dark of the lunar rock and the shimmering of the gold gave the rock a beautiful marbled look.
After a few moments of turning the sample over and over to show each facet in the light, Tom Stafford, CAPCOM for today’s traverse, gave them his take on the matter, “Ed and Al, I think you might have just financed your little road trip.”
15 March 1973
Apollo 20:
MET: 258:42:50
20°53'18" N 25°49'33" E
Ed nodded towards a spot in the distance on the port side, “I think that’s it, Al.”
Shepard craned his neck and nodded, “Yep. Gotta be. Houston, we think we’ve spotted the impact site. We’re seeing an irregular crater and what looks like some bits of wreckage strewn about.”
Gibson called back, “I think that’s the engine bell sticking out there. Do you see it?”
“Yeah. Look at that.”
“Looks like we dropped a warhead, not an ascent.”
“Kinetic energy does not mess around.”
“No, it does not. Where do you want to park?”
“Can we come in from over on the right? It’ll keep the shadows off of it.”
“Okay, give me a minute. Houston, we’re going to park and survey the site. Copy?”
“Affirmative, Buffalo. You’re clear to park and we’ll get you a Go for the EVA.”
An hour later, after a few quick samples, Ed and Al stood at the rim of one of the Moon’s newest craters.
Shepard’s low, mournful whistle made it all the way back to Earth, “Man, that is one ugly mess of a spacecraft. I sure hope Jack didn’t leave anything important in there.”
Ed was too busy deploying some survey gear to give his opinion. Al was relaying a forensic analysis back to Earth as he slowly walked, counter-clockwise, around the rim of the crater.
“Houston, looks like she came in at a fairly shallow angle, maybe 30 degrees, maybe 35. With that, I’d kind of expect her to bounce and tumble, but instead she burrowed. What’s left of Orion is mangled all to hell.”
“Can you see any particular components, Al?”
“Ah, aside from the engine bell which is the most prominent. She definitely came in head-down. Let’s see. Oh, hey, it looks like the window panes popped right out. You can see one that’s kind of wedged itself in about three quarters of the way down the slope. Point on it is sticking out. The ascent oxygen tank is shattered, but about half of it is still more or less where you’d expect, relative to the engine. Looks like a little bowl on top of a scrap heap.”
He took a few panoramic shots and Houston followed along with what he was seeing.
This was really going to help. Never in history had a crater been so meticulously planned, or studied.
On Apollo 15, Crichton and Anders had made a point to empty out any non-essential mass before they cut Orion loose. A few hours later, just before their TEI burn, Houston had sent Orion’s final commands and set her for a lithobraking maneuver that had culminated right here.
Like the string quartet of the Titanic, velocity recorders on Orion had nobly done their job up to the last instant. The mass of a used ascent stage was known to within a few kilograms. The site had now been located and, armed with the other data, today’s survey would provide a treasure trove of information about how lunar soil behaved during meteor impacts.
The fact that this was a man-made meteor mattered little to the astro or geophysics of the situation. Surely the solar system provided asteroids as irregular and oddly shaped as a lunar module ascent stage.
Shepard, moving at a leisurely pace, finished his circumnavigation of the crater not long after Gibson had finished setting up a tripod. His morning constitutional complete, Shepard set about the day’s work.
“Okay, Houston, let’s get you some numbers on the new crater Orion here.”
16 March 1973
Apollo 20:
MET: 280:27:23
21°07'45" N 25°04'15" E
In a way, the moment was bittersweet. It was a stirring site to find the descent stage, gleaming in the sunlight of the lunar midday, but, having found it, Al knew that the greatest adventure of his life was now, quite officially, halfway done.
As with Orion’s ascent stage, though it was now ground zero for a new crater, Shepard and Gibson gave Orion’s descent stage a wide berth as they approached. This was partially out of mission parameters, but also out of respect for Jack and Bill. They would prefer not to disturb any of the footprints or gear that had been left behind, but mission objectives called for them to bring back a few key components.
As with the pieces of Surveyor III and Surveyor VII brought back on earlier flights, now the ground crew of Apollo 20 would bring back a few items to show how well life support systems would fare under harsh lunar days and nights. The Surveyor probes, helpful though they had been, of course were not equipped with the systems that men needed to support themselves on long lunar stays. With the remnants of Orion, scorched by her ascent stage’s fiery exit, engineers would be able to see how valves and air lines held up after nearly 2 years of exposure.
For two hours, Ed and Al carefully dissected their predecessor’s spacecraft and secured pieces that, to the engineers back on earth, were much more valuable than that silent chunk of gold that they’d found in the canyon.
A few hundred yards from Orion’s chassis, Al shuffled over to a tiny monument, tucked in the shadow of a boulder.
He took a few pictures but was careful not to disturb the thin cardstock. He already knew the message that lay inside and he knew it was not meant for him.
From a few feet away, he could see the image on the outside of the card. It showed the Moon’s orbit around the Earth at the bottom, with a widened out view to show the Earth’s orbit around the Sun at center and the Sun’s path around the Milky Way at the top. The work had a clinical beauty about it, but even with the shade of the boulder, the ink would not last forever.
Al had seen the greeting card before it had left Earth. A sentimental touch by Jack and Bill for any out-of-state visitors who happened to be curious about the blue marble that hung in the sky over his shoulder.
Inside, in perfect calligraphy was the simple call to life that the crew of Apollo 15 had chosen:
Wearied traveler, we wish you a safe journey.
We know not your manner or your form,
but we rejoice in your existence.
We have come to this place in search of knowledge and peace.
We wish the same for all who may read this message.
Godspeed from the crew of Apollo 15.
We know not your manner or your form,
but we rejoice in your existence.
We have come to this place in search of knowledge and peace.
We wish the same for all who may read this message.
Godspeed from the crew of Apollo 15.
The signatures at the bottom were made with as much reverence as the card itself.
After reading it back on Earth, Al had only one question about Jack Crichton’s choice of words.
“How do you know they’re wearied?” he’d asked.
“Look at what it took us to get there, and we’re next door. For anyone else, they’ve had a much longer trip.” Crichton had replied.
Shepard remembered having a certain skepticism about the whole enterprise. The chance of an alien finding the landing site at all, let alone a greeting card tucked away behind a rock, seemed, well… astronomical. Still, with a respectful smirk, he realized that finding it was not an impossible thing. After all, he’d done it himself now.
He felt a bit weary himself, though it was born of wistfulness, not toil. The next week would not be nearly as exciting as the last. Orion’s landing was the last waypoint for the Buffalo. Shepard’s next task would be the most important U-turn of his life, and then a long trudging path back along the crisp, dusty tracks that they’d made so far.
The crew of Apollo 20 had blazed a trail for a long lunar highway, connecting one point of interest to another. Having completed the trail, they would be the first to follow it, beating a path back to Antares and there beginning the long trip home.
23 March 1973Apollo 20:
MET: 447:30:21
Valley of Taurus Littrow
“Not much of a fairway," Ed said.
“Well, it’s a bunker shot to be sure,” Al replied.
“Should have brought you a wedge.”
“On this course, you’ve gotta play for distance. I’ll be fine with the 6-Iron.”
He tried to bring his left arm around, but he knew it was futile. He was essentially wearing an inflatable suit of armor. The natural tendency of the structure was to push his limbs wide, not draw them together.
After a couple of feeble attempts to grip with both hands, he gave it up. Even if he’d managed, it would have been tricky to swing like that.
“Three shots. Here we go.”
Shepard reared back and fulfilled the promise made by every cocky astronaut since 1961. He was now the first man to play golf on the Moon.
“Got more dirt than ball on that one,” he said.
The first lunar golf shot was barely impressive in the valley of Taurus-Littrow. It would have been an embarrassment at any course on Earth.
Shepard dropped another ball which, as physics teachers would explain to their students, took about 1.3 seconds to fall to the surface, rather than the half-second it would take on Earth.
This time he got under it a bit and his aim was better. He couldn’t resist turning his head to watch it fly.
“Now that baby is moving!” Ed said, clearly impressed.
“Felt good. That’s a heck of a thing. Straight as a dime!”
He retrieved the final white pellet from his sample bag. After this long on the surface, he’d gotten used to the silence, but it would have been reassuring to hear a small thump as the ball hit the ground.
He was determined to do it right this time. Shepard kept his head down and even with the one-armed swing, he knew he’s gotten all of it.
“Wow!”
Turning to find the white ball against the black wall of night, he found it, higher up than he’d expected.
“Miles and miles and miles,” he mused, very pleased with himself.
“Tell Olympus to take cover,” Ed joked.
Decades later, it was discovered that the UNESCO made an error in its declaration for the preservation of the Apollo landing sites. While any footprints from the original twenty-four moonwalkers were legally protected by the declaration, the UN had failed to account for Alan Shepard’s final two shots that went well past the 10-meter boundary.
An enterprising Brazilian explorer and space historian was able to locate the final two shots in August of 2047.
After an epic bidding war, the balls were sold two different museums. One was displayed at the Museum of Apollo in the city of Scientia on the Ocean of Storms. The other ball was shared between the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum, and the Smithsonian’s Museum of American Sport, both in Washington D.C.
Visitors to each museum continually expressed disappointment that the decades of harsh sunlight had completely bleached away the manufacturer’s label from both balls. It was a secret that Shepard took with him to his grave.
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With the rather brisk schedule I've endured over the past month, it's more than possible that a few glaring errors have managed to slip past me in my desire to get this latest chapter out to you, dear readers.
I can only hope that the next chapter of Ocean of Storms will deliver the level of quality that I've shown previously.
I had hoped for this chapter to be less intense, but ultimately just as pleasurable as the previous one.
With all of that said, I wanted to present you all with the raw version of Nixonshead's fantastic art contribution to chapter 20:
For more on the harrowing descent and landing faced by Commander Shepard, please see this excellent, annotated transcript of the descent and landing of the OTL Antares, here.
For more on the history and operations of the Lunar Module, please see this well-researched article from Air & Space.
I can only hope that the next chapter of Ocean of Storms will deliver the level of quality that I've shown previously.
I had hoped for this chapter to be less intense, but ultimately just as pleasurable as the previous one.
With all of that said, I wanted to present you all with the raw version of Nixonshead's fantastic art contribution to chapter 20:
For more on the harrowing descent and landing faced by Commander Shepard, please see this excellent, annotated transcript of the descent and landing of the OTL Antares, here.
For more on the history and operations of the Lunar Module, please see this well-researched article from Air & Space.
