The Labours Men Go Forth To
2 August 1979
Johnson Space Center
Houston, TX
29° 33’ 47” N 95° 05’ 28” W
“It might have not been such a bad idea to let the damn thing crash,” Kraft said.
“As what? A science experiment?” said Glynn Lunney.
Kraft put down his glass and nodded, “Let the white coats study the hole when she comes down.”
“They had their fun with the LEM ascents. It’s better this way,” Lunney said.
“We could just push the thing back to LEO and put the arms on it,” Kraft said.
“We looked into that. The guys from Canada weren’t wild about the structural loads,” Lunney said.
“It just feels like we’re tossing good money after bad,” Kraft said, dismissively.
“Turning bad money into good,” Lunney said, fighting through Kraft’s handwaving. “With this one Hail Mary pass, we get an observation platform, a teleoperation station and an emergency shelter, all for the cost of a Clipper launch and some fuel for
Zeus II.”
“It’s too ambitious. This isn’t ’68. We’ve got no deadline. Why not give the contractors a couple of years to come up with something new? A station built in '84 is likely to be a hell of a lot better than one built in the 70’s, no matter what you put in the equipment racks,” Kraft said.
Lunney shifted in his chair. The red leather seat was a bit much for this office. Kraft was nothing if not practical. Then again, when one runs the most important center at NASA, the office has to match the role.
“But it’s there already. If we’d let the thing crater in, we’d look like idiots,” Lunney said.
“But not hoarders,” Kraft said. “Two space stations is a bit much. And now we’re already talking about a third.”
Lunney nodded, “Jamestown, Roanoke, Plymouth Rock, St. Augustine… it takes a lot of infrastructure to colonize a new continent.” Lunney rose slowly and walked to the window.
Kraft raised an eyebrow, “Is that what you think we’re doing?”
Lunney jutted his chin out the window at the rising moon, “Look at it. It’s the eighth continent. The sheer amount of real estate…”
“Less than Asia, more than Africa,” Kraft said.
“Exactly. The last time the human race attempted something on this scale, we were crossing the Bering Land Bridge.”
“Well, you came here looking for my support. You’ve got it,” Kraft said. “Don’t get me wrong, I still think there’s better options, but we’ve got this card now, might as well play it. Walk me through it.”
“Armstrong is taking three rookies to
Skylab for two months in September. They’ll land
Constellation at KSC the week before Thanksgiving.
Intrepid is turnaround right now. The Air Force has asked us to keep her on standby in case they have problems with deployment of
Liberty’s payload in November.”
“So we’ll hope that
Liberty doesn’t foul anything up and start prepping
Intrepid,” Kraft said.
“The new gear for
Olympus is set to be delivered in October.”
“You don’t think that’s pushing it?” Kraft said.
“Proposing a mission to the Moon in August and launching in December… gosh. You’re right. We could never do
anything like that,” Lunney said.
That got Chris Kraft to laugh, which anyone in Houston would tell you isn’t easy.
The phone rang, Kraft leaned over and picked it up.
“Hello? Yes. I’m sorry, I got held up. I’m leaving now. Love you too,” Kraft said, then hung up the phone.
Lunney took his coat off the back of the chair. Kraft rose and followed suit.
“Betty Anne is wondering why I’m not home for dinner. You’d really think she’d be used to it by now,” Kraft said.
“Tell her I said hello,” Lunney said.
They stepped through the door, making their way downstairs, “Who does Deke want in the left-hand seat for this?” Kraft asked.
“Himself,” Lunney said.
“Ha! What’s plan B?” Kraft said.
“He’s thinking Lind and Truly,” Lunney said.
“Did George Abbey die and no one told me?”
“George made his peace with Don. They buried the hatchet,” Lunney said.
“Still, an old CMP and an X-20 pilot. Deke’s not exactly ready for the ‘80’s, is he?” Kraft said.
“He’s still head of the office,” Lunney said.
“It’s fine. He’ll get used to the FNG’s eventually.”
“He’s coming around. Lord knows he’s had enough time,” Lunney said.
“Don’t make an issue of it,” Kraft said.
“Not my place,” Lunney agreed.
“I worry about the next guy in my chair. He’ll have to deal with some folks who are reluctant to change,” Kraft mused as they entered the parking lot.
“Chris, if this is mentoring, you don’t have to be subtle,” Lunney said.
“You’re still farsighted, which is what we need, but be gentle with the old guard, myself included. People who don’t see eye to eye, tend to end up going toe-to-toe,” Kraft said. “Manage the conflicts. Prevent them where you can.”
“Have a good night, Chris. My best to Betty Anne,” Glynn said.
Kraft popped open the car door and sat down. Lunney waved him goodbye. Kraft’s night was done, but Lunney had more to do. He headed back inside to talk to some of the people from Navigation. Tomorrow morning, they’d talk about consumables and procedures. He hadn’t felt this excited since
Constellation One. They were going back to the Moon.
16 October 1979
Skylab
Orbital Inclination: 50°
Altitude: 270 mi
“I should have held out for the fish flight,” Neil Armstrong said, putting another soil sample under the microscope. It was the tenth one in a row.
“What was that, Neil?” replied Jerry Swinson on CAPCOM in Houston.
“Disregard, Houston. Just about to check a soil sample from rack twelve,” Armstrong said.
“Copy that, Neil,” came the reply.
Norm Thagard pushed off a wall and floated down towards Armstrong at the instrument bench. “Oh, come on, Neil. Space gardening, it’s not so bad.”
“I’ve walked on the Moon, Norm,” Armstrong said.
“Hey, if we get this right, maybe they’ll let you go again,” Thagard said, waving to the grow racks that surrounded them.
Armstrong waved a hand dismissively, “Doubtful. I think they’re gonna give those spots to you guys. Probably have me talking to you on the radio the whole time.”
“Well, at any rate, sure does make this place look nice,” Thagard said, rotating slowly to take in the view.
Neil joined him, “That it does.”
For the Apollo-Skylab flights, the astronauts on board had complained of stale air and the odors that accompanied men in a confined space. With the grow racks that surrounded them, the air on board was much more fresh. When he closed his eyes, Neil could almost imagine that he was back on the ground, walking through Jenny’s garden in the backyard.
Two months was enough time for their crop of tomatoes to come to harvest. While they waited, the rookies were engaged in testing the effect of the plants on the life support system and intensive studies of which plants were best thriving within the confines of the spacecraft.
The effects of zero gravity on plant growth had been explored a bit, but this was the most intensive study to date. Over fifty plant species were represented and most of the species had the ability to produce food. The plan was to tend the garden for forty to fifty days, enough time to harvest the first supply of tomatoes and some of the other sprouts. From there, Skylab would carry the garden racks alone, with monitoring from the ground.
Constellation would return after the new year to record the results. Assuming all went well, the next crew would be the first to actually eat crops that had been grown in outer space.
Calories were as much a requirement of a life support system as oxygen and water. From the first Mercury flights, NASA had always treated consumables as a single-feed system. All supplies that were needed for a spaceflight were launched, ready to consume, with no thought to recovery or reuse. For short-term flights to the Moon, or long-term flights in Earth orbit, this was acceptable. Spacecraft could be supplied or resupplied as needed. It wasn’t ideal, but it was workable.
For a permanent, static base on the lunar surface, it would be worthwhile to try to utilize local gravity, a stable orientation and a steady source of carbon dioxide. Life support systems supplemented by plants could assist with a lot of problems and provide a source of comfort to astronauts living on a cold gray world under a deep black sky.
A little green was good for anyone.
Armstrong turned back to the work bench. He secured his foot into a loop of wire that he had taped down a few weeks ago. It was the only way he could hold himself steady long enough to look through the scope.
“Houston, the soil samples from rack twelve, section three continue to show the dead cells that we were told to expect. At two hundred mag I can still see signs of movement. I’m recording the images on to film roll 24A9. Please confirm that copy, over.”
“24A9 from rack twelve, section three, day thirty-five. We have solid copy on that, Neil. Biosciences thanks you for the hard work today.”
“Roger that, Houston. Is it possible for me to get some of the engineers in a separate loop tomorrow to help me go through the cooling system overhaul? It’ll be helpful to have a channel that won’t be interrupted with descriptions of tomatoes every five minutes.”
“Copy that, Neil. We’ll see if we can get that set up for you,” Jerry Swinson said over the radio.
“Thank you, Houston. We’re gonna get squared away for dinner time. Would you mind giving us the news while we get the microwave going?”
“Sure fellas, let me grab the paper here,” Swinson said. There was a pause long enough for the four crewmen to merge in Skylab’s galley, such as it was. They silently went about obtaining their meal trays. In the first week, it had been a study in chaos to watch three rookie astronauts and their commander try to coordinate movement between a storage container, a microwave, a water dispenser and a table. After a month, they had it down to a fine science. After a week in weightlessness, a rookie was more or less a veteran astronaut.
“Okay, let’s start with sports. I grabbed sports first. World Series game five last night, the Marlins defeated the Yankees 5-3.”
McBride said, “That team is such a phenom. What was it? Four years they’ve been in the league?”
“Yeah, it’s crazy. Meanwhile, my Cubs are going on seventy-one years without a title,” Swinson said over the radio.
“One day, Jerry. One day,” Armstrong said.
“Anyways. The NBA season opened over the weekend. The Celtics were in town to play the Rockets and their rookie, Larry Bird, scored the first three-pointer,” Swinson said.
“Yeah, I saw him when he was at Indiana State. That guy can hit it from anywhere,” said McBride.
“Aaand let’s see, the Oilers beat the Colts up in Baltimore on Sunday. 28 to 16 was the final. They’re 5 and 2 on the year.”
“Good for Houston. You got a score for Cleveland in there?” Armstrong asked.
“Lost to Washington, 13 to 9. They’re 4 and 3 on the year,” Swinson said.
“Moving on,” said Armstrong.
“Former governor Spiro Agnew was released from prison after a three-year sentence for tax evasion and corruption,” Swinson said, moving on to national news.
“Never run for President against a Kennedy,” George Nelson said, pulling a tray from the microwave.
“Nixon and Agnew, both, what were the odds?” McBride said.
“Yeah, what was it? They got Nixon on conspiracy charges, to blow up the peace talks in ’68,” Thagard said.
Swinson answered from the ground, “Yeah, he got sentenced to ten years, Bobby Kennedy pardoned him after his first day in jail.”
“Bet Agnew wishes he could have gotten the same deal,” Thagard said.
“No such luck. Then again, all the kickbacks and bribe money. He sure wasn’t lacking for cash for a good lawyer,” Swinson said.
“Speaking of Presidents…” Armstrong said.
“There’s an article that’s guessing Reagan will announce next month. Reagan, Connelly and some guy named Ford are all looking like contenders,” Swinson said.
“He’s gonna announce with a year until the election?” McBride said.
“Seems like it gets earlier every time, doesn’t it?” Swinson replied.
“Anyways, we can get ahead of schedule a bit. Talk to us about tomorrow morning’s activities, Jerry,” Armstrong said.
Each of the four attached their trays to the Velcro on the table and listened to the schedule for the morning.
15 November 1979
UBS Studios
The Star Report
“So, have you decided who’s James Bond and who’s Victor Drax?” said Seaborne, with a laugh and a wink.
Richard Truly raised his hand, “Oh, I’m definitely James Bond here. I used to have the big secret spyplane,” he said.
From the other side of the couch Don Lind shrugged and nodded, “I’ll cop to that. I’m the one with the space station.”
“Pretty close,” Seaborne agreed. “Commander Lind, you spent two weeks aboard
Olympus back in 1974 during the flight of Apollo 23.”
“That’s right. I was the last man on
Olympus. I’m looking forward to returning and getting her reconfigured for new missions.”
“Tell us a bit more about that,” said Seaborne, “What was life like on the
Olympus?”
“Well, it’s roomier than an Apollo CSM. The interior has portholes that give amazing views of the lunar surface. There are also small telescopes that allow for observations of features on the surface and give some lovely views of the Earth as well. The walls are lined with equipment racks with experiments. At least, that’s what was there. We knew that Apollo 23 would be the last one to fly to the Moon for a while, so we brought back the experiments in our command module. When Richard and I get out there, we’ll be installing new equipment in the empty racks.”
“Yes, we’ll be installing a new navigation computer and radio equipment…” Truly said.
“This is for the robot probes that are planned in the near future?”
“That’ll be part of it, but we’ll also be setting up new connections with the Galileo Observatory on the farside. With the new equipment, we’ll be able to get data to and from the telescopes on the surface much faster. In the future, we’ll be sending more rovers and probes to surface. If we want to explore the farside, it’s much easier to run those missions from a place like
Olympus rather than relaying a signal all the way back to Earth. With
Olympus as an eye in the sky, as it were, it’ll be able to provide navigation data, to see areas of interest that we want to go study. The idea is, just like life on Earth is improved by
Skylab, we’ll make life easier on the Moon with
Olympus.”
Lind came back into the conversation, “We’re also going to be sending up some gear that will improve life on the station itself. Lights that are more energy efficient. New temperature controllers.
Olympus will have a proper kitchen space and we’ll refill the water and air tanks.”
“A lovely little home away from home around the Moon,” Seaborne remarked.
“Basically,” Lind said.
“So, how long will you be staying?” asked Emmett.
“The plan is to spend about a week. That will give us enough time to set things up and resupply the station.”
“We certainly hope you’ll come back and tell us all about it after you land,” Seaborn said.
“Absolutely. It’s always a pleasure,” said Truly.
Emmett turned to the camera. He picked up a small model of the Voyager-heavy probe. “Stay with us through these messages. When we come back we’ll be talking to some of the Voyager team from the Jet Propulsion Laboratory. They’ll be showing us some of the latest images that Voyager 3 has sent back from the Jupiter system. You’ll want to stick around for that.”
6 December 1979
CF-202 Intrepid
Altitude: 220 nmi
MET: 22:18:31
“Okay, Houston, the camera just isn’t giving us as clear an image as I was hoping. Would you mind calling the ball for us?” said Lind.
“Yeah, we can do that for you Don, just give us a moment to get you the best input. Stand by,” said Judy Resnik, working the CAPCOM station in Houston.
Dick Truly flipped a switch to take them off VOX. “Sure, we’ll just wait with a big-ass nuke sitting 30 yards behind us.”
Don Lind in the left hand seat shrugged his shoulders, “It’s fine. This thing isn’t as clear as it was in the sims. We could do it, but I’d rather not play around with this sucker.”
“Agreed,” Truly said.
They stared at a grainy image transmitted by wire from a rear-facing camera on
Intrepid’s aft section. On a small monitor which sat between them, an image showed the docking target on top of
Zeus II. The problem was that the image competed with static and, three times now had cut out entirely. With full knowledge that they were trying to back into a nuclear rocket engine, Don Lind wanted all the help he could get with this first critical phase of the flight.
“Okay,
Intrepid. We’ve got a clear image down here. Getting a good feed from
Zeus’s forward cameras. We should be able to walk you through this. We’re gonna feed you a program for the thruster firings. Let us know when you’re ready to take this down.”
From a pocket on the side of his chair, Truly pulled out a legal pad and pen. Commander Lind did likewise.
“Go ahead, Houston.”
Over the next few minutes they copied and then confirmed the sequence. It was a series of paired thrusts, four sets of two, with a final push that should, if the calculations were correct, attach the rear of
Intrepid to the front of
Zeus.
Don called out the data to Dick, who entered it into the computer via the keypad to the left of his control yoke. The input sequence took the better part of five minutes, but that was primarily due to the patience and precision that both men demonstrated in the task.
“Final input is entered.
Intrepid to accept? Right, Houston?” Truly asked.
“You’re go, Dick. We’re ready to proceed here,” Resnick said.
“Roger that,” Truly said, pushing the grey EXECUTE button on the bottom right of the keypad.
A thirty-second countdown clock displayed in green on the center CRT. It methodically began the half-minute count, with the computer using this time to allow either man to abort the program if they wanted to reconsider.
With the patience of a doting parent, both men waited for the computer to start the sequence. At the first impulse, they felt the vibrations through their flight suits.
“Hey, there we go,” Truly said.
“Houston, program is proceeding. Are you getting a good read on our telemetry?” Lind asked.
“Roger that, Don. You’re right on the money.”
“Parallel parking on autopilot. What
will they think up next,” Don replied.
Two minutes later,
Intrepid’s rear docking port was directly in line with
Zeus’s. The computer fired the nose thrusters one final time to close the distance at the rate of a few inches per second. The gentle kiss that Don and Dick felt a beat later was their primary confirmation that docking had been achieved.
“Houston, this is the
Intrepid. We’re hitched up to the locomotive and we’re ready to leave the station. Our compliments to GUIDO and all the backroom folks. Thanks for the help. Beats the heck out of flying a CSM.”
6 December 1979
CF-202 Intrepid
Altitude: 220 nmi
MET: 27:18:31
“It’s gonna be fine. It’s gonna be fine,” Truly said, more to himself than anything else.
“You gotta relax,” said Lind, “I mean, it’s not like you didn’t know this was coming.”
“Yeah, I’m just trying not to think about Venus or Russia or anything,” Dick said.
“It’s gonna be fine.” Don mimicked, switching his radio on, “Houston,
Intrepid is at ready-one. Requesting your go for TLI, over.”
“Roger that,
Intrepid. Zeus’s prep is complete. We are transmitting TLI Go-codes to
Zeus in 15 seconds. Good luck fellas.”
Lind checked the flight deck for the fifth time. Thrusters to attitude-hold. Radiator doors closed. Aft docking clamps secured.
There was no sound to speak of. Even with the rumble of the engine transmitting through the combined fuselages of Zeus and
Intrepid, the dull roar of the NERVA wasn’t enough to be audible on the flight deck. The only physical confirmation the astronauts had was the press against the back of their seats. The TLI burn progressed in the first five seconds to 0.7g. As the clock ticked up, the accelerometer confirmed the motion and Lind made the first call down to Houston.
“Mark TLI plus five seconds, Houston. Timestamp two. All readings nominal.”
“Copy,
Intrepid. Confirm timestamp two. Predict five minutes remaining. Getting good telemetry from
Zeus. Can you confirm there has been no autofire on your RCS?”
Don looked over to Richard who gave him a thumbs-up with his left hand. His right was never more than an inch away from the keypad that could shut down the burn.
“Roger that, Houston. We’re smooth through two. No RCS pulses. Zeus is giving us a smooth ride up here.”
“Coming through 1.2 gee,” Richard Truly said from the right-hand seat.
A month ago, at a barbecue, Don Lind had been talking with his neighbor, Jim McGee who sold insurance. Inevitably, the subject of the nuclear rocket came up.
“Are you nervous about it?” Jim had asked.
“We’re not riding a Russian rocket,” Don replied.
“But the basic principles are similar, right?”
“You think the second guy to use a hammer didn’t hit his finger?”
“So you’re saying it’s just a tool?”
“If you had a Mustang in your garage, would you be afraid to drive it because your neighbor crashed his?”
“Fair enough,” Jim said.
“Besides, American engineering,” Don said.
“So, you think it’s capitalism vs. communism?” Jim asked.
“Not really. It’s more that, ‘we’re not going as far, or putting the engine through as much strain. We’re not orbiting a planet that’s a corrosive oven that’s thirty million miles closer to the Sun. And we’ve done this before.’ The first
Zeus had more than twenty engine firings over a five-year worklife. This one is brand-spanking-new. I’m already trusting about a thousand engineers just to get up to the thing. And I want to go back to the Moon.”
“You think they’ll let you land next time?”
“We’re gonna start building a base eventually. I dunno. Fifty-fifty, but my fingers are crossed,” Lind said.
A rumble brought him back from the memory.
“Are we good?” Truly asked.
“A little precession,” Lind said, pointing to the gimbal reading on the instrument panel. The 8-ball wobbled slightly.
“Houston,
Intrepid. We’re getting a bit of precession at TLI plus four twenty-six. Looks like it’s within the two-degree margin. Do you want us to correct manually? Please advise.” Lind relayed to the ground.
He switched off of VOX, “Dick, what are you seeing on the strain gauges?”
“Still green. Number 7 seems to be torqueing a bit,” Truly said, checking the numbers for the docking clamps on
Intrepid’s rear port.
A heart stopping eight seconds went by before the call came back, “
Intrepid, Houston. We do not advise for manual correction. Zeus software is accounting for the procession. The engine is gimballing. We are still within the margin, over.”
Before the transmission had completed, he felt another tremor and saw the 8-ball settle back at the original orientation. Zeus had self-corrected. A moment later, Truly and Lind felt the release of 1.2g and the return of weightlessness. The burn had concluded.
Both men let out a deep breath. It had been the longest five and a half minutes of their lives.
“American engineering,” Don Lind said.
“Houston, this is
Intrepid. Burn complete. We’re going to the Moon.”
8 December 1979
CF-202 Intrepid
Lunar Transit Trajectory
MET: 75:32:21
“So you missed it this summer?”
“Yeah. Kathy and I were gonna go one night, but it rained and we wound up not going. Was it good?”
“Eh… not great. You know how it is. Ever since Connery left, those movies just haven’t been the same.”
“Yeah, but still. What happened?”
“So, it starts out with the British flying a Clipper back to the UK for some reason,” Truly said.
“Were they gonna launch it?”
“They never really explained that. Anyways, they’ve got it on the back of a 747 and it turns out there are two guys hiding inside,” Truly said.
“Who somehow weren’t noticed by the hundreds of people who tend to these things…”
“Tell me about it. Anyway, the two sneaky guys detach the Clipper and fire the engines so it crashes the carrier plane.”
“So realistic,” Lind said, biting into an apple.
“I know. I know. Anyway, they send in Roger Moore to investigate and it’s pretty obvious it’s this guy Drax, because his company built the Clippers. Anyway. For some reason, Bond has to go to Venice and finds there’s something going on with some chemical. And that leads him to Rio because there’s this flower that they turn into poison or something. It’s a little convoluted. There’s a thing with a cable car and a thing with a speedboat and waterfalls. Typical James Bond stuff.”
“Sure, sure,” Lind said.
“One thing leads to another and Drax is holed up in some ancient Mayan temple or something,”
“Were the Mayans in Brazil?” Lind asked.
“How should I know?” Truly said. “Anyways, he puts Bond underneath a Clipper launch pad.”
“But he doesn’t stay to make sure he really dies, right?”
“So you have seen some of these before,” Truly said. “So, of course Bond gets out of it and then steals one of the Clippers. Cause this guy is launching like ten of them.”
“Why so many?”
“He’s stocking up colonists for his moon base. He’s got a plan to have a whole lot of blonde girls take up with a bunch of burly guys to create some sort of master race or something. It’s a little creepy, honestly.”
“Okay, so Bond flies a Clipper up into orbit…” Lind prompted.
“And all the way to the Moon, which, in the movie, only takes a few minutes,”
“Just knocking me out with the realism here,” Lind said.
“Ohh yeah. Anyways. They land the Clippers on the Moon. Just land them, like on a runway. Again, not exactly going for Best Picture here. Bond sneaks into the base with the girl. There’s always a girl. And from there he foils Drax’s plan to launch all these poison satellites at the Earth. Drax gets mad, which is understandable under the circumstances, and breaks out this big laser that’s supposed to destroy London or something.”
“Bad guy with a big laser aimed at an innocent planet. Man, they are really ripping off Star Wars, aren’t they?”
“So bad.”
“So, of course, Bond manages to mess up the laser’s capacitor or something and it blows up and Drax blows up and the Moon base blows up and Bond spends the whole return trip banging the hot scientist girl that he’s been going around with since Rio.”
“Well, it sounds better than The Man With the Golden Gun,” Lind said.
“I kinda liked that one,” Truly said.
“All right. Lights out,” Lind keyed his radio, “Houston,
Intrepid. We’re done with dinner. Gonna wrap up for the day. We’ll talk to you in the morning. Have a good night.”
11 December 1979
CF-202 Intrepid
Olympus Space Station
MET: 153:20:14
“Oh this is creepy. Anyone see that movie, Alien?” Lind asked.
Olympus was cold and dark. When Lind had departed for the last time during the flight of Apollo 23, he’d followed the same shutdown procedures as the other CSM pilots. The station had sat in low-power mode for the last half-decade. Now Don Lind set about to get her back up and running.
He checked the pressure gauge and saw that it was in the green. He threw a few switches to start the power-up procedures and then activated the heater.
“Okay, Houston. Power-up has begun. We’re got good atmo here. I’m gonna get out of this suit. There’s no need anymore.”
He waited for their confirmation and swung his visor up. His breath puffed in a cloud in front of him. It was well below freezing. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. No trouble.
“Okay, it’s cold, but it’s fine. Dick, you can start transferring the gear,” Lind said.
After any long car trip comes the unpacking. They’d gotten a good little assembly line going through
Intrepid’s nose hatch. Truly grabbed containers and shoved them through the round docking hatch into the waiting arms of Don Lind, who grabbed them inside of
Olympus and started finding places to put things. It was always mesmerizing to toss a crate or a box and watch it continue along its original path, with no downward arc whatsoever. With the last of the boxes transferred, Truly made his way into the space station and took a look around.
“Is it about how you left it?” Truly asked.
Lind nodded, “Nothing out of place. I don’t think anyone’s been messing around up here since I left.”
“That’s a relief,” Truly said.
Truly pushed off and headed to the rear, giving the station a quick survey.
“Brrr, how long did it take the heaters last time?” Dick asked.
“Couple of hours,” Lind said.
“Should’ve packed a sweater,” Truly said.
“Sorry, I should have mentioned it,” Lind replied.
“So, we’re squared away?” Truly said.
Don turned and pointed at the crates in turn, “New equipment, consumables, spare parts.”
There was a lot to do over the next six days. Now that they were sure
Olympus wasn’t a hazard, they had seven days to get her ready for the next seven years.
16 December 1979
CF-202 Intrepid
Olympus-Intrepid Rendezvous
MET: 283:20:14
Olympus was not outfitted with an airlock. For its initial missions, it was only to have one astronaut occupant. Any situation that required a spacewalk would, by its nature, require a mission abort. Mission rules had been relaxed somewhat over the course of the Apollo program, but they would never be loosened to the point where an astronaut could go outside without another astronaut around who was ready for a rescue and recovery.
Now, with
Olympus retasked for a mission and a timeline well past its expected operating points, mission planners had to get a little creative.
“Houston, this is the
Intrepid, we’re ready to undock now,” Don Lind said, from the flight deck of his Clipper.
A few minutes later,
Intrepid, with
Zeus II on her tail, slowly backed away from
Olympus.
“How you doing down there, Dick?” Lind said, keying his mic.
“I’m all set. Hopefully this won’t take too long,” Truly said.
With gentle pulses of the RCS, Lind swung the awkward combination of
Intrepid and
Zeus around between
Olympus and the Moon. The engineers had advised him to conserve RCS in case an issue developed with the OMS later in the flight. Orbital mechanics allowed for the maneuver to be completed with two large pulses and two smaller ones. With
Zeus totally shut down,
Intrepid was slinging a lot of mass with her as she moved to the back of the space station.
It took
Intrepid the better part of an hour to swing around, which was more than enough time for Dick Truly to check the tools and equipment he’d be working with.
“We’re in position now. Ready to open the hatch,” Lind said.
Truly emerged alone from the forward docking bay. Lind could see the tether and umbilical lines corkscrewing out from his ship as his pilot approached the back side of
Olympus.
“Okay, Houston. I’ve got a good grip here. I’m gonna pop this panel open.”
From the flight deck, Don could see Dick open panel 6A that allowed him access to
Olympus’s electrical systems. The plan for the day was to swap out Batteries 1 and 3 and then rewire the panel and replace the fuses. The slow motion dance of equipment and astronaut would extend the life expectancy of the station for the foreseeable future.
“Woo boy. You know, I replaced a light switch in my kitchen a couple months ago. It was way simpler than this.”
“Yeah, the astronaut corps sometimes asks you to do really difficult jobs,” Lind said.
“Well, at least the view is nice,” Truly said.
“Beats drywall in a Texas summer,” Lind said.
“Agreed. Okay, Houston, I’m taking out Battery 3 now.”
18 December 1979
CF-202 Intrepid
Olympus Space Station
MET: 310:54:30
From the rear bulkhead, Dick Truly took it all in, “Well, it’s small.”
Don nodded. He was at the new control panel. They were already getting fresh data in from Galileo Observatory down at Tsiolkovsky. The feed was slow, but they’d had solid contact with the surface since the new antennae had been configured. “She’s no
Skylab, but you know real estate. It’s all about the location.”
Truly settled himself over the porthole. Less than a hundred miles away, he saw a grand patchwork of craters slipping by underneath him.
“You think it’ll be big enough for decent operations?” Truly said, not looking up from the window.
“They’ll add some cans, most likely. Probably a hab module with solar wings. Or maybe just push the thing up to L2 and use it as the chassis for something more elaborate,” said Don Lind.
“That’d be a good spot for keeping an eye on the farside,” Truly said.
“We gotta put something at L2 sooner or later. And the poles and the far side. We’ll start with habitats and workshops. After a while, it’ll be condominiums and golf courses. Eventually, we’ll get it all. We’re here to stay.”