The rocket could be reassembled and readied for launch within a week. In this way, payloads could be launched for between one-twentieth and one-tenth of the cost of the previous expendable rockets. America, Russia, Europe, and Japan were now using this technology to get relatively cheap access to space. China, however, was still doing it the old-fashioned way, having developed its Long March series of expendable rockets to ever-larger sizes.
8
T-minus 343 days
The sky brightened in the east. The sun’s first rays of the day crowned the mountains west of China’s Jiuquan Satellite Launch Center, in the Gobi desert, with gold. As it rose, it bathed the top of the huge launch tower, and then the launch vehicle itself, with flame.
The Long March 10 rocket, eighty-one meters in height, sat resplendent on its launchpad, still connected by umbilicals to the tower. Wispy clouds of condensation and ice crystals flowed down its sides as the cryogenic propellants boiled off slowly. The largest rocket ever built by China, in its heaviest lift configuration it had a payload capacity of eighty tons to low Earth orbit (not far short of the Apollo moon rockets). This payload, however, would be catapulted much further than that. Their national pride and technological prestige rested on its success.
As the countdown passed the one-minute mark, launch operators focused on their consoles. Multitudes of data-recording programs started invisibly, streaming gigabytes of telemetry data to hard drives. At thirty seconds, the giant umbilicals were retracted. All kinds of systems spun up on board the rocket; it now ran on its internal power sources only. Twenty… ten… nine… eight… massive turbopumps spun up, delivering tons of liquid hydrogen and oxygen to the main engines. These ignited in a ground-shattering boom and a shaped controlled explosion focused downwards into flame trenches. Then the six strap-on solid booster rockets started together, their blast tearing the air and causing the rocket to strain upwards like a sprinter waiting for the starting pistol. The now ninety-year-old spectacle of an orbital rocket launch was underway.
Zero. The clamps holding the vehicle to the pad were released, and it rose majestically on a column of flame as bright as the sun, its speed belying its size and bulk. It left behind a trail of dark smoke created by the burning of the solid rockets that was silhouetted against the dawn sky. Anyone outside the bunker would have felt the vibration and power of the launch deep in their chest, even miles from the launch site, but inside it was almost silent. Monitors at the front of the control room showed the rocket’s ascent into a darkening sky, while others plotted its course over maps of the world. Launch operators and technicians hunched over their consoles monitoring data and systems.
At forty kilometers up, having boosted the vehicle to 10,000 kilometers per hour, the first stage separated. The second ignited, accelerating the rest of the vehicle and its payload on their way into orbit. At 110 kilometers up, the second stage shut down and fell away, and the third stage ignited. At 200 kilometers, it shut down, having lifted itself well clear of Earth’s atmosphere. Forty minutes later, it ignited again, to circularize the vehicle at its orbital velocity of 20,080 kilometers per hour. The payload fairing broke apart, and pneumatic pumps pushed the giant payload, with its earth departure stage, clear of the third stage. Shouts, cheers and high-fives erupted in the control room. The correct orbit had been achieved, and everything was functioning 100% normally.
Another forty minutes later, as the vehicle’s track took it back over China, the Earth departure stage lit. The payload was accelerated again, by another 10,000 kilometers per hour, into a trajectory that took it into a trans-Martian orbit. At fifty-five tons and twenty meters by five in size, once separated from the Earth departure stage, it was by far the most massive piece of hardware ever launched towards the Red Planet. Some had questioned why a combination rover and orbiting observatory needed to be so big and heavy, pushing China’s launch capabilities to their limit. All that came out of Beijing was that the scientific returns would be worth it.
It coasted onwards, now on a nine-month transfer orbit that would require no more engine burns (apart from minor course corrections) until it had to slow down to enter Martian orbit. It was, of course, being monitored by NORAD (North American Aerospace Defense Command), using their massive radar arrays that tracked every object within a million kilometers of Earth. Being silver and metallic on the outside, it returned the biggest radar signature of any man-made object in space, apart from the space station.
They watched, as its radar reflections grew fainter and fainter, until it passed out of their range at one and a half million kilometers from Earth (further than other objects due to its extreme size). At two million kilometers, the metallic silver skin and other accoutrements that made it look like a jumbo-sized scientific mission dropped away to reveal an exterior that was jet-black and completely radar-absorbent. It was the first deep-space mission designed for stealth. Onward it coasted, on its lonely journey away from Earth and toward its destiny at Mars.
9
T-minus 294 days
Emile, Martin, Nikita and Kinuko strained to see out of the windows of the small shuttle craft for a closer look at their destination. They had enjoyed the ride into orbit immensely – the gravity-inducing blast out of the atmosphere that had defined astronauts since the beginning. Their craft had taken an eight-hour trajectory to the International Space Station, instead of the two days it took the first crews to chase down the station in orbit. The extra fuel expense was not too much of a consideration now. They would be joined by the other four primary crew members when the next shuttle arrived a week later, since there were only seats for four passengers and two pilots. They also carried one-and-a-half tons of cargo and supplies for the station.
The International Space Station had been expanded greatly in the age of economical space access. It was about three times its original size, with extra access corridors leading to extra clusters of modules, and over two acres of solar panels. It was almost a maze inside now. It had a permanent crew of fifteen for its normal science mission, but it now also served as an orbital dockyard for the International Mars Explorer. Her construction crew of eight also lived on board now.
The Explorer’s modules had all been built on Earth, and were now being lofted piece by piece into orbit by different countries’ launchers. Once they arrived at the station, they would be bolted together, much as the station had been originally.
The central truss, of course, had been the first section launched, on many different flights, and its 144-meter length was already complete. The combination of the station and the under-construction spaceship made up a huge orbiting complex, and was a breathtaking sight to behold as their shuttle nudged slowly closer. There was so much activity and comings and goings of spacecraft at the station now that Emile was reminded of a busy airport on Earth. He half expected to see an astronaut floating outside with glowing batons, guiding them in to their assigned docking port.
At a distance of 800 meters, the station’s clusters of shiny modules reflected the sun’s blinding rays. The four vast solar arrays looked like football fields. Above all those, the long thin backbone of the Explorer shone brilliant white, anchored to the station at two points. Attached to it were robot arms, independently powered with many different joints and grips at both ends. As new modules were flown in the arms would inch their way end-over-end along the truss, like a caterpillar, to the appropriate spot, and then grip them and hold them in place for assembly.
Their shuttle craft floated in to thirty meters from the complex, just as the sun set and they passed into the Earth’s shadow. Exterior lights came on, as they nudged in closer to the station’s underside at half a meter per second, slowing to ten centimeters per second. Then, with a slight jolt, they were docked. Once the pressures were equalized, the hatches were opened and Commander Rudolf Lorenz welcomed them aboard.
“Greetings, Mars travelers,” he said in his Austrian accent, shaking each of their hands as they floated through the hatch. “We t
rust you will find our accommodations comfortable while we build you a spaceship.” One could have imagined him as chief steward on an airliner. Indeed the accommodations would be comfortable, compared with what the Mars Explorer would have to offer: real showers, lots of room to move about, and many windows. (Not to mention real-time communications with Earth.)
This was their second visit to the station. The purpose of both trips was weightlessness and EVA training. Plus, this time, they would also get to watch and participate in some of the spacecraft assembly.
Seven days later, they had acclimated to life on board the station, and had been joined by the other four primary crewmembers. They began to practice suiting up and going outside on simple EVAs. Training tasks were assigned for them to complete – using basic tools to screw in and unscrew nuts, bolts, and screws. All was rehearsed, from torque wrench settings, to recovering from emergency scenarios.
The big event that would happen while they were on board was the arrival of the first major component besides the truss: the nuclear reactor. The reactor weighed in at ninety-five tons, and could not be lifted in separate segments. Russia’s present fleet of reusable rockets was not even close to being able to lift it. Even the expendable ones weren’t. So, the Russians had to do something pretty remarkable: they dusted off the plans for the N-1, a huge heavy-lift rocket from the Soviet era that was meant to launch their own manned Moon mission. It never flew successfully, and was canceled in 1973 after four failed test flights. However, where there’s a will, there’s a way, and an enhanced N-1 was finally built and flown decades after its original designers had passed on. The Russians also had to avoid closing the Baikonur Cosmodrome at the last minute, as it was the only site capable of launching the giant rocket.
A week after the remainder of the Mars crew arrived, the reactor was launched into space. It achieved orbit successfully – all systems nominal. It was then boosted on a trajectory to intercept the station. It arrived two days later, to great excitement.
The crew craned their necks into the cupola window trying to get a glimpse of the incoming cargo. They had to take it in turns, as there was only room for four to look out at once. They saw it approach to within a few kilometers, but then it went out of view behind the station’s massive solar panels. So, they packed into the station’s control module, along with the rest of the crew, to watch it on the large array of monitors there.
The N-1’s huge upper stage and cargo inched slowly in towards the station. The payload fairing had separated long ago, leaving the reactor exposed on top of the rocket stage. Radio chatter went back and forth in Russian and English; the crisp, short, technical phrases of professionals on opposite sides of the world who were coordinating a critical operation hundreds of miles up.
Two of the Mars crew members would get the honor of actually bolting the reactor to the truss, in a move that was part symbolism and part EVA training. They drew lots, and the honor went to Martin and Kinuko. They floated up to the airlock and, together with two of the construction crew, suited up and waited while the lock depressurized. (This still took an hour in the station’s airlock, but would be faster on the IME.)
Once ready, they opened the hatch and stepped out into space. They “climbed” a ladder about five meters long that was the main gangway to the orbital construction site. They then had a long way to maneuver outside – down seventy-five meters of the truss, to the business end. They worked their way slowly and carefully along, all attached to the tether that John Chapman, the Chief Construction Engineer, anchored as they went. It was a strange sensation, Martin thought to himself, as they worked their way along. They were now no longer above the space station, but jutting out into space, and thus had a clear view of the Earth passing swiftly below. “This is kind of like being balanced on the arm of a gantry crane on a construction site,” he said. “Only you’re hundreds of miles up instead of hundreds of feet.”
“Yes,” replied Kinuko. “At least if we fall off, we aren’t going anywhere.”
At last they got to their stopping point, five meters before the end of the truss. The massive N-1 upper stage and its cargo were now hovering five meters out in space. John now took command of the docking, as the Station Commander crew and everyone else on Earth looked on via the outside cameras.
“Straight ahead, ten centimeters per second,” he commanded. A small puff of gas from the N-1’s attitude control thrusters, and the cargo edged closer. “Five per second.” It slowed down. “Ten centimeters to the left.” Another short burst of thrust, followed by an opposing burst from the other side. In this manner, the huge reactor was maneuvered to within a meter of the truss. All movements had to be performed extra carefully. The reactor was so heavy that it would cause major damage if it collided with anything.
John then took command of the waiting robot arm, and moved its grapple to the right spot on the reactor’s shielding.
“Three… two... one… contact.” The grapple locked on. A cheer rose up from control rooms at both sides of the world, and from the station.
“One nuke delivered,” came a Russian voice over the radio. “That will be ten billion of your Earth dollars, please.” Laughter all around.
“We’re kind of between paychecks right now,” came an American voice in reply. “Let’s see if we can work out an arrangement where we send some Russians to Mars instead.” More laughter.
They had to wait while the N-1 rocket stage released its hold on the reactor and backed away. Once it did so, it would turn around, perform a retro burn, and deorbit itself so as to avoid becoming another piece of space junk.
When John was given the all clear, he pulled the reactor in with the robotic arm, until its guides ensured it was against the truss end, accurate to the millimeter, and the bolts protruded through the bolt holes. Martin and Kinuko then placed the nuts on by hand, and tightened them with huge torque wrenches. They grinned at each other, and the mood on the station was exuberant.
10
T-minus 141 days
ASSOCIATED PRESS: Beijing, China – The Chinese government announced today that it has lost contact with its flagship robotic Mars mission en route to Mars. “We are trying to re-establish radio contact, and will continue to try over the coming days,” Jiang Fan, the chief mission scientist, was quoted as saying.
Experts at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory have speculated that a problem with its attitude control system had caused the high-gain antenna to point away from Earth, resulting in the loss of communications. Many at that institution, however, have questioned why the low-gain antenna does not still work to communicate with and recover the craft.
T-minus 94 days
Martin, Nikita and Aleksandr had been eagerly awaiting this day for a long time. They were actually on board the International Mars Explorer. As Chief Scientific Officer, Navigator, and Commander, respectively, they had the privilege of completing inspections and flight trials. She was completely built and checked out – all except for testing of her attitude control system.
The ship was completely pressurized. Once they had entered the airlock, they were finally able to take off and stow their spacesuits, and float there in the shirt-sleeve environment. It was magical, just taking in the fact that they were on board their spaceship. She seemed so huge, as they looked down the central tunnel, and indeed she was. The IME was by far the longest pressurized ship ever built. They just floated there, taking it in, and experiencing the moment. A fully functional, brand-new, interplanetary spaceship with the most advanced systems, materials and propulsion technologies man had been able to develop – built for them. The inside of the docking port was polished metal, and appeared very solid and strong – so much so that it could have been part of a deep-diving submarine.
“She has the new spaceship smell,” Martin remarked, as they started to make their way all along the habitable length of the ship. They took their time, stopping off at all points along the way, from the airlock to the command module. Cabins, laboratorie
s, bathrooms, food and water storage, and galleys were all inspected. The supplies had not been loaded yet. The last thing they would do during checkout was move the ship from her construction site to the other side of the space station and dock with it. This would then allow much easier access for the crews supplying her with provisions, and technicians making final checks and taking care of myriad loose ends. Still, she was essentially complete and flightworthy, and fly her they would.
Once they floated down into the command module, they broke into broad grins.
“Oh yeah,” Martin said. “This is the stuff.”
“Absolutely beautiful,” Aleksandr said, as he nodded and looked around slowly. “This is a surreal moment.”
The others, still wide-eyed, nodded in agreement. “We’re actually going,” Nikita said. “No more endless orbiting of the Earth. Our 100-billion-dollar hotrod is going to take us hundreds of millions of kilometers out into the unknown.”
The computer bathed them in a light much like Earth daylight, with dark gridlines across the interior of the large, donut-shaped, room to give them a spatial reference. The only interruptions to this pattern were a window displayed on the wall, showing a diagram of the ship with the status of all the systems, and the glass dome windows on opposite sides.
“Computer, open channel to Mission Control,” Aleksandr said.
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