by T I WADE
An hour or two before dawn, with temperatures hovering at a degree or two above freezing, the engines of the C-5 were fired up by Bob Mathews. He and his two now-experienced lady crew had Ryan, and Captains Pitt and Sullivan going along for the ride.
Jonesy and Maggie were strapped in the shuttle; Ryan wanted to go along in the shuttle, but Jonesy suggested that for its maiden flight only two should be aboard. The shuttle’s owner slowly relented after Jonesy pointed out that there would be no one to run the operation if he was killed on the maiden flight.
With the added weight of the shuttle, but with empty fuel tanks, the C-5 climbed into the air as the rest of the scientists and staff headed out for the regular morning exercises.
Jonesy and Maggie had a wireless camera in the shuttle, which could show them the ongoing activities inside the C-5’s cockpit. There wasn’t much to do, the outer skin of the shuttle kept out the cold temperatures inside the open and noisy cargo hold, and a small set of hydrogen batteries kept the power on in the shuttle. It was dimly lit, quiet and warm.
This maiden flight was to practice a release at 45,000 feet with the C-5 climbing up and out of the way of the shuttle. Without the ability to ignite engines, Jonesy would have to point the shuttle’s nose down fast and glide in to the airfield with no thrust to aid him. A second flight later that day would be exactly the same, but a one-ton load would be tied down into the shuttle’s mid-cargo area. The next day two more flights were planned; first with a two-ton cargo, and then the fourth test from 50,000 feet with a four-ton load. After Jonesy, Maggie was to complete the same four flights with Jonesy in the co-pilot’s seat.
Jonesy relaxed, closed his eyes and mentally went through the flight procedures all the way down to 10,000 feet, where he had to be, exactly three miles from the eastern edge of the runway at 350 knots. There was expected to be a three- to five-knot wind coming in from the west.
“Ten minutes to release altitude,” stated Bob Mathews over the two-ship wireless intercom fifty minutes later.
Ryan was excited. This was an important day, the culmination of nearly three decades of work by him and his team, who had first put pen to paper to begin designing the space shuttle. He was also exceptionally happy to have such an experienced group of pilots, far better than he had ever imagined.
“Thirty seconds to release, going into angled climb, altitude 41,000 feet,” stated the C-5 pilot calmly. “Twenty seconds, 75 degree climb, speed 495 knots, altitude 43,000 feet. “Ten seconds to release, speed 460 knots, 45,000 feet, setting release system to live; 5…4…3…2…1… Release activated.”
Jonesy felt the shuttle begin to glide backwards on the rails inside the aircraft. He could also see the forward wall of the cargo bay begin to move away from him, and suddenly they were in sunlight, the mammoth rear-end of the Dead Chicken beginning to climb away from him.
“Wings activated, test engine activation. Wings deployed, controls beginning to feel flight,” Jonesy stated so that all in the C-5 could hear as he watched the C-5 climbing up and away, now about 400 yards in front of him. “Main aircraft slipstream causing bad judders with flight controls, heading out of slipstream. OK…we have dials registering speed only, at the moment.” Jonesy was verbally telling Ryan and several others on the ground what was happening, second by second. “Speed 410 knots and still climbing, altitude 46,450 feet, ailerons becoming operational and I can feel movement from the stick and pedals. Nose going down, shuttle beginning to descend rapidly, descent at 5,000 feet per minute… 8,000 feet per minute, speed 550 knots and I’m leveling her out slightly to test her glide slope.”
There was nobody else on the intercom. Jonesy had all the air time and Maggie watched his concentration and flight movements. Below in Hangar One, the new Ground Control Command Center, readouts from a dozen instruments aboard Silver Bullet I were telling the ground team everything they needed to know. On top of that Jonesy was telling them how the shuttle was flying. Ryan was listening hard to what Jonesy was saying.
“We have a reasonable glide slope at a slower 495 knots. Descent is currently 6,500 feet per minute. Better than I expected, but the added loads will steepen the slope down to terra firma. Dropping through 24,000 feet, and turning in for finals, six miles from target,” Jonesy continued. “Pulling our air brakes now….hell, she’s dropping like a stone….altitude 16,000, speed 470 knots, air brakes away. I think there could be a 50 percent brake notch added to the system; I suggest a half notch on such a small wing. Three miles to target! Target in sight….10,800 feet….air brakes out for 1…2…3 seconds….air brakes away! Two miles from target, altitude 7,800 feet, speed 390 knots……altitude 4,700 feet, speed 300 knots. Wheels going down now! Altitude 3,500 feet, speed 270 knots. Altitude 1,950 feet, speed 225 knots….beginning to flare the nose, nose coming up….500 feet…..100 feet to runway….we are down. Houston we are on terra firma, parachute deployed. Front wheel now on ground, speed slowing. Wow! A great ride on a little roller coaster! A great little bird so far, Ryan!”
There was applause on the ground as well as in the air; the C-5 spiraling down was still at 37,000 feet and too far above the runway to be able to see Jonesy land. To her pilot, Bob Mathews, the little aircraft must have gone down like a bullet. Jonesy’s whole ride had taken less four minutes.
The Silver Bullet used about two thirds of the long runway and within minutes the tractor arrived, the chute was disconnected, and Jonesy and Maggie were being pulled back to the cheering crowd around the apron.
“What do you think?” Jonesy asked Maggie.
“It looked like there was considerable nose drop when you deployed the air brakes,” she replied. “I would think that with cargo, an extra ten knots per ton on descent could be what she needs, and only use the air brakes to take off unwanted altitude during the last mile; retract them, then hit the undercarriage button, and I think we could get it right every time. There is certainly no room for error without a couple of jets pushing us along, and I think thrust might be more comfortable with a big load, Mr. Jones,” she added. She knew what she was talking about and he nodded his approval of what she had just said.
Two hours later the flight debriefing was done as Silver Bullet I was being prepared to be loaded for the second run. The ground readouts confirmed to Jonesy what he needed to know about his flying, and how to help solve the bad turbulence from the Dead Chicken as the C-5 climbed away from the shuttle.
By mid-afternoon, and this time with one ton of cargo evenly distributed along the bottom of the shuttle’s load bay, Bob Mathews took her up again. Jonesy had suggested that he try to release the shuttle at 50,000 feet to see if altitude made any difference to the turbulence.
It did. At 49,800 feet Jonesy and Maggie hit sunlight as the shuttle easily slid out of the egg compartment of the Dead Chicken. This time there was less turbulence around the craft as he dipped the nose, pushed the shuttle down, and pointed towards earth. There was very little change to the glide slope. As Maggie had suggested, he kept the forward speed up by ten to fifteen knots—hard to fly exact speeds without jets to help him—and landed as they had done the first time. The one ton load did not really make a difference, except the landing speed was slightly higher, and they used up a little more tarmac to come to a halt.
The next morning, the third flight went off well, the two-ton load not causing any problems, but a 10-knot crosswind blowing dust onto the runway did need Jonesy’s undivided attention.
During the flight debriefing the possible crosswind problem was brought up. Every aircraft had crosswind tables to help the pilot understand at what speed the crosswinds were safe for an aircraft, and its maximum crosswind thresholds. The shuttle had none of these and due to its smooth shape and high landing speeds, Jonesy suggested that a high 30-knot wind might be the beginning of any problems for the pilot.
That afternoon, with a 15-knot crosswind on takeoff, and a four-ton load in the shuttle’s belly, the team flew again. The C-5 hardly felt the weight difference, b
ut this time Jonesy certainly did as he left the Dead Chicken’s butt at 49,000 feet.
He had to drop the nose sharply, and the shuttle wanted to immediately go into a spin as the wings deployed. By the time he had waited the long five seconds for wing deployment, and even though his nose was still facing up the glide slope, the altimeter was beginning to spin as altitude was quickly lost. He let her go down looking for the radio beacons he had used to set the shuttle up for final approach.
“Descending through 28,000 feet at 600 knots, and pulling up for best glide angle,” he stated doing dozens of mathematical sums in his head, distance, altitude, decent rate, and he expertly brought her in faster than before. “She’s flying smooth at 500 knots and descending at 7,500 feet per minute. I’m shortening the final approach by several hundred yards by turning in now. Air Brakes deployed…1 second…2 seconds… air brakes in. She is coming in fast and I’m going to flare out 500 feet higher than before. Altitude 4,900 feet, speed 260 knots and she’s is gliding well, one mile from target.
“Cross wind 21-knots and beginning to gust to 23-knots,” stated a controller on the ground.
“Roger that,” replied Jonesy. “This brick doesn’t notice it. Going in straight….descending through 3,000 feet, 800 yards to go, speed 245 knots, wheels going down, no need for air brakes. OK, flaring out….200 hundred feet…100 feet….we’re down, chute deployed….front wheel on the ground. We are using a lot more runway. Coming to a halt, we have about 1,000 feet of runway to spare, and I did feel the crosswinds on the chute. Out.”
That night there was a beer party in Hangar Three. The four flights had been a success and they had forty-eight hours to make adjustments to the shuttle, and add a half-notch control on the air brakes before Maggie would fly her.
Her first three flights went off as Jonesy’s had, the new air brake notch worked well; she came in a little faster, but without a heavy cargo, and there was a lot of runway to spare.
The fourth test flight was different. Bob was confident he could beat the record, releasing Silver Bullet I at 53,500 feet, instead of the record to date of 52,000 he and Jonesy had practiced. The turbulence was far better at the higher altitude, but the craft dropped like a stone and Maggie brought her in so fast, that Jonesy didn’t think that 10,000 feet of runway would be enough.
They had a hundred feet to spare including a 3-knot headwind on landing and, at the debriefing, Jonesy suggested that with full loads, a slightly larger chute was needed.
After eight test flights, both pilots had the final four minutes of flight, as well as the landing of the shuttles, sorted out. Unfortunately, that was only the last one percent of a complete flight.
Penny Sullivan was elected to be the third shuttle pilot, but needed more hours in the simulator.
Two weeks later she passed her four practice flights with flying colors, and it was Michael Pitt’s turn next. He showed what a fantastic pilot he was and, with Maggie as co-pilot, he flew the shuttle like a master. Ryan had four pilots for his two shuttles with three possible co-pilots, himself, Suzi, and VIN, as an outsider.
It was a week before Christmas, and after a final 50,000-foot check flight in the shuttle, one flight piloted by Jonesy and the second one piloted by Maggie, first with Penny and then Michael in the co-pilot’s seat.
Once these tests went off without a hitch the first mission to “near space orbit” was discussed in Hangar Three. The pilots readied for the first powered flight in a week’s time. Jonesy was to fly with Maggie with the two rear seats, also taken. One would seat Ryan and the other Penny.
“Mr. Jones and Ms. Sinclair, Ms. Sullivan and I will join you on this flight. Also, we will have a four-ton cargo, representing the exact weight of a spacecraft in the cargo bay. Our first near-orbit flight will reach an altitude of 300,000 feet at 14,900 knots or Mach 19.55. We must fly level with the earth; the five computers aboard will do this for us. The first-stage solid fuel rockets will get us up to 240,000 feet, and the second-stage liquid hydrogen, the rest of the way. Since we can control the second-stage liquid hydrogen rockets, we will decrease power over the eastern U.S. coastline, and remain in level flight. Mr. Jones, we need to maintain a Mach 19.55 forward speed in level flight for twenty-seven minutes before throttling back and beginning our descent over the Chinese east coast. Between China and Hawaii, our descent and speed must decrease down to 9,000 knots at 210,000 feet directly over the islands. Pilots, the ultimate approach speed, as you have practiced in simulation, needs to decrease down to 5,000 knots before we descend through 120,000 feet over the Californian coast. If we can cross the California/Nevada line at 70,000 feet at 900 knots, or more, we are home and dry.” Jonesy nodded. He had gone over this hundreds of times in the simulator. It would have been easier to head into a higher real space orbit over the Kármán Line, but Ryan, knowing the rest of the world would be watching his every move, wanted the flight to be below expectations.”
“Total flight time, two hours, four minutes from takeoff,” added Jonesy. “Sounds like a fun ride. I’ve been straight up to 78,900 feet in an F-16, and look forward to beating that record. Ms. Sinclair, I think you have beaten me, correct?”
“Yes, Mr. Jones; 80,120 feet in an F-15 above California, and I was lucky to get it back to earth. I never really liked fighters after that and posted back to transport aircraft.”
Every day during the next week, the pilots trained for every eventuality for their first sub-space flight. It would be the only one. In Hangar Six Silver Bullet I was prepared for her next test. This one would be the most hazardous, with more re-entry stresses on her than a usual, faster re-entry. Every heat-resistant brick under her wings and fuselage was checked, and her fuel loads calculated time and time again. With the extended flight duration in the upper atmosphere, her burn rate with liquid hydrogen would be far higher and more constant, and the fuel load would need get her down to 100,000 feet before Jonesy could glide her in.
Launch from the C-5 was planned for ten minutes after dawn; fewer people watching a white streak head off into the upper atmosphere, the better. The two first-stage rockets were the most powerful non-releasing systems to date, and would spew white clouds into the atmosphere, which could be seen on earth for many miles.
The shuttle wouldn’t hamper other civilian aircraft, as 50,000 feet was far higher than any flew. In addition, by the time the shuttle exited the restricted flight zone around the airfield, she would be passing through 100,000 feet at well over 3,000 miles an hour.
Again, on approach, the shuttle returned to 50,000 feet inside the airfield’s 20-mile border, not causing any danger to high flying civilian aircraft.
Nobody slept well that night, except Jonesy, and at 3:00 a.m., with the last of the liquid hydrogen being pumped into the shuttle’s tanks from the storage Dewars outside, everybody readied for takeoff. The first-stage solid and liquid fuels had gone in earlier, and once the full-weighted shuttle was placed into the C-5, with the front loading nose door closed and sealed, Bob Mathews started the first engine and minutes later taxied to the eastern end of the runway, as he had done over a dozen times before. This time he programmed the cargo weight information into the aircraft’s computer, eighteen percent fuel load and then the outside temperature. The computers would do the rest for takeoff.
Inside the shuttle it was quiet and warm, the four occupants silent and ready. Bob turned the aircraft around, checked all gauges, completed his final procedures, and they were off. Jonesy, as usual closed his eyes, sat back in the pilot seat and listened to the four engines screaming outside. The noise was mostly muffled inside the shuttle as the nose went up and the aircraft around them headed skywards. The engines sounded sweet, and Bob and the computers were right on the button. The aircraft’s thrust was perfect and, as he felt the slight vibration of the undercarriage come up, Jonesy knew that the next time he would stand on terra firma, he would be closer to being called an astronaut.
The Astermine Co. team had watched all the video feed from
the other two companies’ private flight missions completed over the last twenty-four months; both had achieved space flight. They weren’t going to win first to space; the British company had reached 350,000 feet for a few seconds, the other had actually resupplied the space station once, but with unmanned supply craft. The face of the pilot with the British company had been all smiles upon reaching earth again, and Jonesy hoped that he would feel the same four hours from now, having one orbit of earth under his belt.
All four were fully suited up in their new space suits, and they breathed from air tanks next to them. Although they could communicate with each other, nobody wanted to. They were all in their own worlds of life and death or flight preparation.
“Heading through 28,000 feet,” stated Bob Mathews over the wireless intercom a little later. “She is noticing the added load, but the near empty tanks are compensating, adding to her rapid accent rate. I’d hate to try this with full tanks on the shuttle and the Galaxy.”
“Don’t blow her rivets apart, Bob,” responded Jonesy. “We have already lost a couple. Bob, remind me to get them repaired by the shuttle team when we get back later today. Remember the soft climb approach. This is at a close to maximum load of shuttle with full fuel aboard the shuttle, but minus the four-ton cargo. I’m sure we can bleed off another few percent of fuel to equal out the cargo weight when that’s included, so monitor your fuel usage and see if we can get down to 15 percent fuel in the tanks.”
“Roger that,” replied the C-5 pilot. “Climbing through flight level 29.”
It took longer than before with the 100 tons of fuel aboard the shuttle. Jonesy knew that the most difficult part of the flight would be, the five seconds before the first stage rockets would ignite. The shuttle would fall fast, and all he had to do was to keep her nose up at 75 degrees until the rockets ignited behind him. He was really looking forward to feeling their force. He knew that an F-16 afterburner would feel like child’s play to these beauties.
