Back to the Moon-ARC

by Travis S. Taylor

  “Shit.” Tony’s heart sank. “Houston. I hope you have a plan C.”

  “Uh, it didn’t work?” The engineer’s voice sounded surprised. “Mercy I, what is the status of the hatch? Our feeds show it as closed.”

  “Roger that, Houston.” Tony hung his head as best he could in a spacesuit. “The hatch is closed and locked out.”

  “Be advised that the Altair jettison sequence is in place and will continue.”

  “Roger that, Houston. The Altair sequence is still green.”

  “Sorry, Mercy I. Be advised that at this time there is no plan C.”

  “Come on! Can’t you guys come up with something?”

  “Sorry, Mercy I. The Altair has to jettison now in order for the proper orbital energy to be achieved following the aerobraking maneuver. We can’t postpone the Altair jettison any further.”

  “Listen, Houston. Bill’s outside, thinking God only knows what, and you’re sitting down there giving me a lecture about the physics of aerocapture? I want to know what we can do to help him survive. Can he ride this thing out there? Can he tie down to the nose or something?”

  Chow watched as the Altair jettison cycle completed, and he felt a slight shift as the Altair released from dock.

  “Tony, I wish there was something we could do. In a few minutes, you’re going to skim the outer part of the Earth’s atmosphere at more than twenty thousand miles per hour. Let me put that another way, the relative wind velocity around the outside of the Orion will be twenty thousand miles per hour. And as you begin to enter the atmosphere, the atmospheric friction will superheat much of the atmosphere around the Orion to many thousands of degrees. There is simply no way an astronaut in a spacesuit can survive that. Even if Bill could find a way to anchor himself to the ship, he would be fried. I want him to come home, too, but there is simply no way we can find a quick fix to make that happen. If we can’t get the cabin to depressurize, we can’t open that hatch.” The voice on the other end of the radio connection was professional, with an appropriate amount of empathy thrown in. The combination angered Chow, who would have responded better to more anger and less sympathy.

  Chow struck the control panel with his right fist and turned off the radio. He briefly looked up at the ever-present video camera and then toward Captain Hui.

  “Dammit all to hell,” Chow said.

  “We have to tell him.” Hui frowned.

  “No, we don’t. He knows what it meant when the Altair drifted away and the hatch didn’t cycle.”

  “Tony, this is Bill.”

  “Bill?”

  “You did your best. Now focus on the mission goal.”

  “Roger that, Bill.” Tony had tears starting at the corners of his eyes. “It’s been an honor, Captain Stetson.”

  “Honor’s all mine. I would like to talk to my wife if that could be arranged.”

  “Hang on. Oh, and Bill, be advised that the solar arrays are about to start cycling in, so you might want to steer clear of that.”

  “Right.”

  Gary Childers was in his Lexington, Kentucky, headquarters building with Paul Gesling and Caroline O’Conner watching the press coverage of the Mercy I’s flight. Like most of the world, they’d been mesmerized by the saga of the rescue mission. They’d been elated when the Chinese crew was found alive, on the edge of their seats when they learned that the crew had almost not survived the hike from their crashed ship to the American lander, and shocked when the broadcast had been abruptly cut off not long after the crew had spoken with the President and Chinese Premier. They were now grieving over the pending death of Mission Commander Stetson.

  For what seemed like the thousandth time, the newscaster began to describe the aerocapture maneuver that the Mercy I was about to attempt. “In just under twenty minutes, the Orion’s heat shield will begin to get hot as its friction with the Earth’s atmosphere is used as a brake to both slow the ship and change its flight path so that it can subsequently dock with the International Space Station. Under normal circumstances, the Orion would simply enter directly into the atmosphere, like the Apollo missions, and come straight home to the surface. But these are hardly normal circumstances. The ship, occupied by a crew of six—before the unfortunate absence of Commander Stetson—is simply too heavy for a safe landing here on Earth. Instead of coming directly home, they will be docking at the International Space Station. Once there, the two wounded crew members plus another astronaut can return to the Earth in the Russian Soyuz spacecraft that is docked to the station as a lifeboat. At this time, NASA has not decided how to bring the remaining crew back home to Earth. Neither the U.S. nor the Russians have any ships ready to fly, and it could be months before this situation changes. Back to you, Jane.”

  Childers picked up the remote and muted the sound before he had to endure more inane comments from the empty-headed newscaster in the studio.

  “Paul, I have an idea. We use the same docking ring that NASA uses, right? Didn’t we standardize on that after we won the space station robotic resupply missions contract back in 2012?”

  “Why, now that you mention it”—Gesling leaned forward—“yes, yes, we did. It was too expensive to do anything else. NASA had spent hundreds of millions of dollars developing the docking ring, and it didn’t make sense for us to reinvent the wheel. Though there are some things about the design that really need to be changed.”

  “Good, good,” Childers said. “Tell me if I’m wrong about this. There’s nothing that’s keeping us from flying Dreamscape again, right? I mean, the ship is supposed to be able to turn around and fly again in just under two weeks after an orbital flight. Is there anything unique about your trip around the Moon that would make this turnaround time any different?”

  “No, not that I am aware of.”

  “Good. Go out to Nevada and see to it that the Dreamscape is ready to fly as soon as it is safe. You’re going to the Space Station and bringing home some real God-damned American heroes. We found these people, and now, by God, we’re going to help bring them home.”

  Gesling and O’Conner rose from their chairs and began to move toward the door. Gesling, as usual, took the lead just ahead of O’Conner so he could open the door for her.

  “Caroline.” Childers stopped her. “Please stay here. After I call our illustrious senator, I suspect I will be not only speaking with the NASA Administrator, but I’ll also be holding a press conference. I need your help to put together the talking points and the not-so-subtle message that Space Excursions is not only about joyrides but also search and rescue. If we pull this off, we’ll have customers beating down our doors for the next quarter of a century!”

  Caroline looked momentarily at Gesling, offered him a smile, and then returned to her seat in front of Gary Childers. Gesling paused, left the room, and closed the door.

  “Don’t worry.” Childers leaned forward toward Caroline. “He’ll be all right. He’s leading a charmed life, and I suspect that you are making it even more so. Let’s get this plan together so you can get out to Nevada yourself as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Bill sat straddle-legged as best he could on the capsule, keeping one hand on the handhold and staring off into space. Earth was filling up a good portion of his field of view now. There was nothing he could do but sit there and contemplate. He contemplated his childhood, his life before NASA, then when he became an astronaut. He thought about his wife and kids. It made him happy to think of them and sad that he might be leaving them to fend for themselves in the world. Then he wondered if he should have done anything different. His final conclusion was no. If he ended up making the ultimate sacrifice, that would be okay with him. His mission had saved several lives and showed everyone that humans could work in the vast emptiness of space. Humanity could now go to the Moon to perform rescue missions. And, eventually, his mission would show that, even though space was a tough place to survive, humanity had what it took to do it. He was certain every other astronaut felt
the same. He was pretty sure that even the Chinese taikonauts felt that way or they wouldn’t have taken the risks they did to beat the Americans to the Moon.

  Bill was pretty sure that if things went bad, there would be a bit of backlash from the public. There might be that knee-jerk reaction to resist spending more resources on such a risky thing as space travel. But he also knew that everybody wanted to see Captain Kirk. Since before he was born humanity had wanted to explore space. Granted, for the most part, everyone wanted somebody else to do it and somebody else to pay for it. Well, Bill was that somebody else to do it. He had no regrets. He would do it all over again even if it meant that he would end up in exactly the same predicament, or even worse.

  “Bill, are you still with us?” Chow said into the radio.

  “I’m here. Where else would I be?” Stetson responded, sounding not at all like a man about to die.

  “They’ve got your wife and kids on the private line. Do you want to speak with her now?”

  “That’s a stupid question. Put them on.”

  “Right. Here she is.” Chow changed the setting to channel five, the private line that would allow Stetson and his wife to speak without anyone aboard, in the press, or even in mission control listening. The call would be recorded, but it, like other private-line calls before it, would not be made public without consent of the astronaut. Long ago, NASA had decided that everyone was entitled to private conversations with their loved ones, even astronauts.

  Bill Stetson had wanted to go to the Moon since he had been old enough to remember. It was his main goal in life. Well, he had gone to the Moon. In fact, he had done more than go to the Moon. He had gone to the Moon and rescued a ship full of stranded astronauts and done his best to get them home. And, as far as he could tell, it looked like they were going to get home. He sat on the lower half of the Orion space capsule just beneath the solar arrays staring aimlessly the beautiful starry space. He didn’t really wonder about the afterlife, because he felt at one with the universe right then and there. The problem wasn’t fulfilling lifelong dreams and goals. The problem was leaving behind the ones that he loved. And he loved his wife with all his mind, body, soul, and heart. Then there were his two kids. His daughter was fourteen going on twenty-three and looked just like her mother—acted like her, too. And his son was eleven and every bit as bullheaded as his old man. It tore at Bill’s insides thinking of them growing up without him there to see it. He indeed felt he was making the ultimate sacrifice to push humanity into space and was proud of what he had done, but right then and there he just wished he could hug and kiss his family.

  “Bill? Do you hear me?” He could hear his wife biting back the tears.

  “Terry? I hear you, gorgeous!” Bill paused long enough to swallow the lump in his throat. “Sally and Neil there, too?”

  “We’re here, Daddy. We love you!”

  “I love you, too, kiddos. Listen to me now. Things have gotten away from me up here, and it doesn’t look like I’m gonna be coming home. It was worth it, though, because we saved four lives.” Bill gulped and wasn’t certain what his tear ducts would do in microgravity.

  “No, Daddy! You have to come home,” Sally cried.

  “Baby, you’ve got to be there for your mother and your little brother. You have to promise me to keep him out of trouble. And you have to promise me to always be great and do your best, just like you always have.”

  “I promise, Daddy.” Sally sobbed deeply. “No, Daddy. I love you!”

  “I love you, too.” Bill really wasn’t sure what to say, but this was his last time to ever leave his son with any man-to-man wisdom. He didn’t have any, but he wished he did. “Neil.”

  “Dad.”

  “You know your mother took a lot of coercing to get her to name you after Neil Armstrong, but in the end she caved.”

  “I know, Dad. You’ve told me that story before.” The boy kept his voice strong and held up like a little man.

  “Well, son, I want you to promise me to be as great as your namesake. Can you do that for me?” Bill was beginning to learn that tears just balled up in the corner of your eyes in no gravity.

  “No, Dad. I won’t,” his son told him.

  “Now, don’t give me any sass, son.”

  “I don’t want to be as great as the first man to walk on the Moon. I want to be as great as you, Dad!” Neil said through sobs.

  “I love you, son.” What can I say to that? Bill thought. He had to pause for a second or two as he almost lost control of himself. He managed to hold back from breaking down completely. “You will be the man of the house now. You take care of your mother and your sister, you hear me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now, kids, I love you both. I love you more than anything in the universe, and I hate that this is how things turned out. I’m not going to say goodbye, because I’ll always be right there with you, looking out for you. I’ll always be a part of everything you are and everything you do. I will always be there. I love you.”

  “Daddy!”

  “Now let me have a private word with your mother, please.” Bill wished he could just hold them one more time. See their faces and laugh with them just once more. He couldn’t even stand having to tell them goodbye. He was pretty certain that those were the last words he’d ever say to his children. He hoped they were good enough.

  “Bill?”

  “Terry, honey. You are and have always been the absolute love of my life,” he started but really didn’t know what else to say. It was the truth that he felt in his heart, so that is what he decided to go with. “I’m so sorry that I’m not going to be there to help with the kids and to grow old with you.”

  “Bill, you are the love of my life, too. Oh God, Bill, what have you gone and done? I’m trying to be strong, but—”

  “You go ahead and cry if you need to, baby.”

  “Bill…”

  “Hey, listen, you remember that time we were down at the Cape and had that little convertible rental car.” Bill wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but he wanted to be happy with his wife just one more time. He wanted to relive a happy memory with her just once more.

  “Yeah, the Ford Mustang. It was red.”

  “Yeah, that was it. I remember telling you that I was gonna go to the Moon then, and do you remember what you told me?” Bill bit at his lower lip to steady it from quivering.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “What did you tell me?”

  “I said, Bill Stetson, if you’re gonna go running off into space, you better have the decency to be here in nine months when I have your baby!” That had been nearly fifteen years ago. And he had been there for the delivery, for both of them.

  “Took me a long time to get to the Moon, huh?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Well, I just want you to remember how happy we were that day and how much in love we were. I still love you that much right this second. More.”

  “Me, too, Bill. Oh God, I’m going to miss you.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Stetson’s conversation wasn’t extremely long. Only a few minutes, actually. Just a few short minutes later he was back on the line with Chow. There wasn’t much to talk about, but he felt like talking to somebody.

  “We’ll be entering the uppermost part of the atmosphere in about fifteen minutes, Bill. The computer is running the show, and, well, I just wanted to say thanks for picking me to go to the Moon with you.”

  “Tony, you’re welcome. Let’s not drag this out, shall we? Give the ship your full attention and get these people home.”

  “But, Bill,” Chow replied, close to crying.

  “Tony, you did your best.”

  “If we could’ve just got the damned cabin to depressurize.” Tony slapped his hand against the couch’s armrest. “Damned computer. Back in the Apollo days, they’d probably have been able to manually blow the hatch or something.”

  “Naw, I think
after the Grissom incident that they actually took off the explosive bolt—wait a minute!” Bill stopped midsentence. “Tony, get Houston on the line and get that pistol out and make sure it has a round in it!”

  “Bill?”

  “Not much time, Tony! Do it! And tell them to keep my wife and kids there.”

  “You got it!”

  “That might just work, Bill!” mission control replied. “Give us a minute to determine the safest place to implement the plan.”

  “Go ahead, but we don’t have a whole bunch of minutes left,” Bill said. “Tony, I want you practicing putting your glove on and off while Houston is figuring this out. If you need help, get Hui to back you up.”

  “Bill?”

  “Well, you can’t fire the pistol with your suit gloves on. If you need Hui standing by with them to help you get them on quickly, then do so,” Bill explained.

  “Oh, I see.” Where the engineers back at NASA hadn’t figured out the problem, Bill just might have. Another reason that he had been the right man for the job all along. “But, Bill, it will take a few minutes for the cabin to depressurize, so I’ll be in no danger.”

  “I still want you sealed up as quickly as possible, just in case. And have the putty standing by.”

  “Roger that.” Tony slipped the seal ring on his right glove and twisted it. It took him a few seconds, but it came off fairly easily. Getting it back on took him almost a minute and a half. It almost startled him when mission control chimed in.

  “Mercy I, mission control.”

  “Go ahead, Houston.”

  “We’ve done a quick analysis and believe that this is a workable plan. The best location to create a leak will be as far into the nose as possible, just to the right of the docking-ring hatch. It is likely that the boundary-layer plasma will not damage the ship critically if there is a structural-integrity breach there. The plasma should flow past any damage up there.”