15 February 1971
Apollo 14
MET: T+ 147:23:12
Orbital Inclination: 86°
Callsign: Endurance
Thomas Wheaton was able to watch the interview from his office. NBC had won the draw, so it was their reporter on the loop. The monitor in his office just showed Al Worden sitting alone in the command module’s left seat. It had been 8 months since they’d managed to get an astronaut on primetime television. He was relieved to be getting some positive publicity.
The review board for Apollo 13 had been necessary, boring and sympathetic. There was no grand foul-up, no great mistake. Just a bit of bad luck 240,000 miles from home. The House had tacked on a token hearing, just to clear the air and get their faces on television, but by then, it was a formality. The agency had survived without taking on blame. All things considered, it could have gone far worse, in every possible way.
The interim moratorium had allowed the brass to reevaluate the plan for what was unofficially being thought of as Apollo: Phase II. The engineering-style flights had come and gone, serving their purpose well. NASA had proven it could land on the moon, land with pinpoint accuracy, and land accurately on interesting terrain, and return crews safely (“safely” being a relative term when it came to spaceflight operations).
Still, all that was over now. It was time for the return to flight, and Apollo 14 was a new type of mission, for a new vision of what Apollo would do.
Just as Apollo 8 had served as something of a trail-blazing flight for Apollos 11 through 13; Apollo 14 was now going to accomplish much-needed objectives for Apollos 15 through 20.
Apollo, armed with newfound public attention and support, was becoming supersized. One week ago, Colonel Alfred Worden and his “Mission Specialist” had launched from Cape Kennedy. By outward appearance, the launch was just like any other Saturn V that had come before.
After the TLI burn, the
Endurance, a perfectly-named ship if ever there was one, undocked and flipped end-over-end. Worden had docked, not with a LEM, but with a “Mission Module” (not that anyone at NASA really used that term). The module, called
Farsight, would never land on the surface, and, in fact, had no propulsion system to speak of.
Farsight, unofficially, represented the very best that the Air Force could offer in terms of an orbital imaging platform. The cameras and sensors housed within the module would allow for much more accuracy and detail than anything previously flown. It had been a nightmare just to get the Air Force to let NASA use them in the first place. The idea of giving such technology to a civilian agency was anathema to most military minds. And then to have the mission staffed by an international astronaut…
Still, right now, NASA had a lot of pull, both politically and with the general public. Orders had been given even before Apollo 13 had launched. The Air Force’s cameras had been brought in under the strictest secrecy and there were rumors that any photos released to the public after the flight would be delayed or degraded so as not to compromise the capabilities of military intelligence satellites.
Wheaton turned his attention back to the interview.
“Commander Worden, is it true that this flight will set a record in terms of total mission time?”
Worden uncanned his answer, “Yes, that’s right. We launched last week and we’ve still got a long way to go. Literally. We’re spending a month in lunar orbit. That’s going to allow us to test out new life support systems and to see how Apollo hardware fares in extended periods. We’ll need to know these things if we want to establish outposts on this new frontier.”
“Why so long in orbit?”
“It takes 28 days for the Moon to orbit the Earth. During the course of those 28 days, the sun passes over every spot on the surface and we get 14 days worth of sunshine to make photographs and take readings. Staying here for a month will allow us to be able to photograph every site several times and from different angles. The images we bring back will be the basis for the most accurate maps of the Moon that we’ve ever had.”
“And I understand your crewmate has a speciality in lunar imaging?”
Worden nodded, which was a little strange in zero gravity, “Farouk is one of NASA’s leading experts in lunar geology. He knows the Moon’s terrain, arguably, as much or more than anyone else alive. He’s here so that we can find the things we don’t even know to look for. Farouk and I are the scouts for the landing missions to come. We’re going to find new features and places that can be explored from the ground.”
“And what is it about your mission that could not be accomplished by unmanned ships?”
Again, Worden knew a softball when it was lobbed to him, “Having men up here allows us to adapt to things that a satellite image can’t reveal. We can see what looks out of place. Respond to a glint on the horizon, or a shadow that’s intriguing. With satellite imagery, we’ll be able to get detailed images, but you can’t always see the subtleties of a landscape. Farouk and I are looking for the things that machines don’t know how to look for. To say nothing of the fact that, even with the best sensors and cameras, a naked human eye can still get a sense of the landscape in a way that no image on a screen or a map ever could convey.”
“Can you tell us more about this special module?”
“Sure. Instead of the LEM, on this trip, we’ve got something new. The module is actually in two parts. The bigger piece, which we call
Farsight, has a suite of cameras and sensors recording everything we can see from up here. It’s also got a small alcove with a big window where Farouk or I can float and take observations directly. Honestly, only one of us can really fit in there at a time. It’s more of a closet than a cockpit. But it’s got the best view on the ship. There are a couple of access panels that allow us to do some maintenance on the recording equipment, but hopefully, we won’t be needing them. Now, that’s
Farsight. Attached to
Farsight, on the other side, is a small communications satellite, which we’ve taken to calling
Gossip.”
Worden allowed the interviewer to prompt him, despite the communication lag of a 2 light-second distance.
“Why
Gossip?”
“
Gossip is a relay satellite which will be used on future missions that land on the far side of the moon. Its job will be to relay signals from Earth to the lunar surface and vice versa. Since all it really does it hear things and repeat them, we thought
Gossip was a pretty good name.”
“I see. And
Gossip will remain in orbit after you leave, yes?”
“That’s right. At the end of our mission here, early next month, we’ll detach
Gossip and
Farsight before we fire our Service Module Propulsion System, or SPS as we call it.
Gossip has a small motor on board that will push it into a high-elliptical orbit to give it a much greater time over the lunar farside.”
Wheaton breathed a sigh of relief that Worden hadn’t referred to it as a Molniya orbit, which was the Russian name for it. The Russians had been using orbits like that for years to give them greater coverage of their own territory.
“And what will happen to
Farsight?”
“It will remain here in our current orbit. The onboard power systems will keep sending data back to Earth for a while and it will serve as a secondary platform for relaying signals to and from the Moon.”
That was the optimistic idea. Technically,
Farsight would be too low to relay much of anything unless a mission happened to be underneath it at just the right time. Still, technically, it would be capable (at least for a time) and it was better not to mention that it would become humanity’s latest piece of space trash, though around the Moon this time.
There were a few questions to go about particular bits of interest regarding life about
Endurance and Wheaton breathed a sigh of relief when the interview concluded. The reporter had not asked about the crew selection process for this flight.
The original flight crew for what had been planned as the final H-mission had Dave Scott as the mission commander, with Worden as his CMP and Jim Irwin flying right seat on the LEM. Then there had been a bit of a row.
A German stamp collector had propositioned Scott and Irwin about smuggling postage stamp covers (whatever that was) aboard the LEM and then selling them off as lunar souvenirs after the crew returned from the Moon. Technically, that was a violation of NASA protocols, (though unofficially, it wasn’t the first time something like that had happened).
The problem came when the NASA brass got wind of it. Scott and Irwin had been quietly reassigned to a later flight, which, it was understood, would never happen. Worden, despite being on the same crew, had been under suspicion but was eventually cleared of any wrongdoing in a quiet, unofficial, internal investigation. The overeager stamp collector had approached Irwin and Scott while they were on a separate surface training assignment and the two astronauts hadn’t yet had a chance to ask Worden, though he would likely have gone along with it.
The whole situation was messy and something less than right. It had seemed unfair to Thomas to punish men for trying to find a way to make some money harmlessly. And being taken off a lunar landing was arguably worse than a death sentence for many astronauts. On the other hand, it could be said that any man who was lucky enough to be assigned a landing should count his blessings and not look for a profitable upside.
At any rate, the H-mission was swapped in favor of this, the first and only I-mission of the program. The geologists were overjoyed at the chance for a complete and comprehensive lunar mapping mission and had gotten one of their own assigned to it, as a bonus.
Farouk El-Baz was a world-class geologist and knew more about the Moon than almost anyone. His assignment on the flight had been a beautiful solution to a public relations quagmire. The first flight of an international astronaut on an American ship, to say nothing of the first non-White man to fly on an American vessel. The stories done on El-Baz’s personal history, his family and his career were all stories that would otherwise have been aimed at the stamp controversy. It was also a quiet signal to the average American that even a non-astronaut like El-Baz could survive and contribute to a real Apollo mission. Surely a few more people had become members of Pan-Am’s “First Moon Flights Club” as a result. Wheaton couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought.
10 March 1971
Apollo 14
MET: T+ 704:18:35
Orbital Inclination: 86°
Callsign: Endurance
Farouk looked over and verified that the transmitter wasn’t on VOX before he spoke.
“You promised me this wouldn’t happen.”
“I know. I know.”
“You said, ‘It’ll be a month of observations and floating. You won’t have to do any crazy astronaut stuff.”
Worden sighed as he finished rigging the suit hoses, “I know.”
“What are we doing now Alfred?”
“Crazy astronaut stuff.”
“Plan well executed, yeah?”
“It’s not like we didn’t know this could happen.”
“All I wanted was a lot of good photographs. I’d be back in my office, going over albedo numbers…”
“Hey, it’s just me doing the crazy astronaut stuff. All I need you to do is stay here in your seat and keep talking to Houston.”
“In a space suit!”
“Yeah… believe me, you don’t want to do this without one.”
“When we get back I’m going to find whatever technician installed this thing and…”
“It happens, buddy. There’s nothing for it. I know what to do and how to do it. Try to relax. Two hours from now, it’ll all be over and done with.”
“You want to rephrase that?”
Worden let out a clipped laugh, “I’ll be back inside, and we’ll break into the chocolate bars. Okay?”
El-Baz sighed as Worden sealed his helmet, “It’s not like I have a choice.”
“True,” Worden switched over to VOX, “Houston, Farouk and I are suited up. We’re ready to begin cabin depressurization. I’ve got my tool kit together and we’re in good shape.”
Bill Anders had the friendly voice of CAPCOM today, “Copy that Al. We’re going to have you begin depressurization after LOS. Do not, repeat, do not egress until we have acquisition over the pole on your next pass. The hatch will not be opened until after we have a good signal.”
“Copy, Houston.
Endurance will be squared away as we come around the horn.”
Forty-five minutes later, Alfred Worden emerged from the open hatch of the
Endurance over crater Anaxagoras.
Farouk looked out of window 1 with wide eyes as Alfred made his way out of the spacecraft. The
Farsight had been fitted with handholds for this very purpose. The idea being that the handholds were low-weight and would be very useful in the event of an EVA.
Gossip’s release mechanism had been considered a problem area.
Gossip and
Farsight were designed separately, built separately, and only within the last 6 months before launch had their respective engineering teams been able to coordinate their efforts.
Worden surveyed the ship as he climbed towards it.
Gossip was more or less a can with an antenna on the sides, a single engine at the rear, and a coating of solar cells on the outside. Its main dish (a smaller version of
Endurance’s high-gain antenna, was pointed uselessly back at
Endurance for the moment. Once he got it freed from the lattice-truss structure that mated it with
Farsight, the antenna would independently acquire a signal from Earth and would get instructions to fire the engine into a high parking orbit.
Worden clipped safety lines to two separate hand holds at the top of
Farsight’s cylindrical shell. He then diagnosed the issue at hand.
Gossip’s pyros had fired on time, but one of the four had failed to completely sever its connecting bolt. What was left of the bolt was holding the satellite on, like the victim of a botched guillotine execution with an infernal death grip.
Worden radioed the situation in. The truss was tricky to get at with a wrench and he honestly thought he’d have a better chance of prying the thing loose by just pushing on the base of
Gossip and hoping that the strain would tear what was left of the bolt in two. Houston wasn’t wild about the idea and told him to try the wrench anyway.
Worden had studied Aldrin’s work on Gemini XII and knew how to anchor himself properly for using a tool in zero gravity. He checked his safety lines again and stuck a booted foot into a third handhold.
After a few failed attempts to get the wrench into place, he finally got a proper grip and turned the bolt. In his excitement at freeing the wretched piece of metal, his foot slipped and Worden became the victim of Newton’s laws, his motions transferred from the freed metal into himself, spinning him slowly off of
Farsight’s grips.
“Whoa, oaah!” said the Air Force colonel as he slowly floated away from his spacecraft, much to the panicked eyes of his crewmate.
For a long moment, as the universe spun before his eyes, Worden felt a fear like nothing he’d experienced as a fighter pilot. What he could not know was that Farouk felt much the same fear, lacking in any way the confidence to fly
Endurance home from the Moon on his own.
When the safety lines tugged taut and he came into a slow rebound, relief rushed over both men, the likes of which they would never again experience.
Worden got a grip on one of the lines and slowly reeled himself in. The flight surgeon was kind enough not to comment on the heart rate of either man in mission debriefings later that month.
An hour later, true to his word, Worden and El-Baz celebrated the successful firing of
Gossip’s rocket engine with two Hershey bars and a view of the Earth rising over the lunar north pole.
