by Allen Steele
Parnell had to admit that Lewitt had a point. If nuclear terrorism was the objective, then taking over Teal Falcon was a poor way of going about it. The six Minutemen at Sabine Crater were intended to be second-strike weapons; they were useless when it came to launching a sneak attack against anyone but the lowliest third-world nation, and even Somalia or Bangladesh would be able to find some patron superpower with the technological capability to protect them within two days. International ABM treaties notwithstanding, it wasn’t impossible to intercept an incoming nuke from the Moon; everyone knew that antisatellite systems had been devised in the eighties which could knock down a low-orbit target.
Gene absently rubbed his beard. “I don’t know how it would work, either … but that doesn’t mean we can ignore this.” He stifled a yawn as he checked his watch. It was almost 0230 Zulu. With luck, he could manage a couple of hours of shut-eye before he had to get up again and prepare for the landing at Tranquillity Base. “I’m just saying we should keep a close eye on Dooley. Call it paranoid, but …”
“I hear you.” Lewitt nodded, although skepticism was written across his face. “Anything else?”
Parnell hesitated. “Yeah. One more thing … if this isn’t a snark hunt, then he may not be acting alone. If I was a terrorist group or whatever, I wouldn’t send Dooley out here without some sort of backup.”
“Ah, c’mon!” Jay’s credulity had clearly been stretched as far as it would go. “Who else do you think is involved? Leamore? Hans and Franz?”
For the first time since he had brought up the subject, Gene wondered if he wasn’t indeed jumping at shadows. He realized how all this must sound to Lewitt: an old Cold War astronaut, brought back into service for one last mission, still searching for commies beneath the bed. Now more than ever, he was feeling his age….
But he had gone this far already, so he might as well spell out everything that had crossed his mind.
“Keep a sharp watch on Ryer,” he said quietly. “Dooley’s not the only one who’s been acting a little weird lately. Know what I mean?”
Jay slowly nodded, his expression suddenly very somber. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I’ve noticed that.” He frowned. “But why would she … ?”
“She’s got a grudge. Let’s just put it that way.”
A corner of Lewitt’s mouth lifted. “So I’ve heard.” He shrugged. “Okay. Maybe you got a point, skipper. I’ll watch ’em both.”
“Do that.” Gene’s eyelids were beginning to feel heavy. The human body needs less rest in free-fall than it does on Earth; on the other hand, he had been on duty for the last sixteen hours. For some reason, though, he didn’t feel like going down to C-deck.
“If you don’t mind,” he said, pushing off from the bulkhead, “I’m just going to catch a few winks at my station. Mind if I turn down the lights a bit?”
Lewitt looked a little surprised. “What, too tired to go below?”
“Just don’t want to deal with the snoring, that’s all.” Parnell pulled himself along the handrails until he reached the command couch, pausing by the astrogator’s station to hit the switch that irised the ceiling dome shut. He didn’t want to admit it to Lewitt, but he was also reluctant to leave his post on A-deck just now.
Nor did he relish the idea of going to sleep in a dark room so close to Dooley.
From the transcript of a hearing before the Ways and Means Committee, United States Senate; March 14, 1988.
Sen. Warren P. Rudman (R., NH): The chair recognizes Senator Hollings.
Sen. Ernest F. Hollings (D., SC): Thank you, Senator. First off, I wish to compliment Mr. Ballou and his staff for being so candid in their review of NASA’s current status. This committee hasn’t always received straight answers from the space agency, but I’m pleased to see that the current NASA administrator has broken from the past and supplied us with such a comprehensive report.
Hamilton Ballou, Chief Administrator, NASA: You’re welcome, Senator. I don’t agree with your assessment of my agency’s honesty in dealing with Ways and Means before now, but I’ll accept even a left-handed compliment.
Hollings: In an election year, Mr. Ballou, any compliment is a good one. I’m particularly impressed with the sheer size of the report NASA has prepared—1,125 pages in all, almost as long as Tom Clancy’s new novel—and the presentation you’ve just given us, but there are still quite a few questions I have about its summation.
If I may quote from … ah, page 12, paragraph 3—you say, “We strongly believe that unless the United States acts now to preserve the technological infrastructure of its civil space program, this country will continue to lose ground to competing foreign space programs, until NASA becomes an agency without any clear purpose or objective.” Can you clarify that statement for the committee, please?
Ballou: Certainly, Senator. Last September, the European Space Agency successfully tested its new Sanger spaceplane. A private German aerospace corporation, GmbH Koenig, has already expressed interest in purchasing three Sangers for the purpose of commercial space activities. This follows the success of the French-German firm Arianespace in capturing over fifty percent of the global commercial satellite launch industry with its expendable Ariane boosters. Koenig has also declared its interest in constructing solar power satellites in geosynchronous Earth orbit.
Once the Sanger becomes fully operational, Germany will have a reusable manned spacecraft which can outperform our Atlas-C ferries. After the President permanently grounded Discovery and Congress voted down NASA’s request to build either a replacement for Challenger or a new generation of single-stage-to-orbit spacecraft, this country has been left with a fleet of spacecraft which is over twenty-five years old.
Not only that, but the last time Space Station One was retrofitted was three years ago. As grateful as NASA is for the appropriations which made this possible, the new computers are already a generation behind state-of-the-art cybernetic technology, and in five more years they will be hopelessly obsolete. Because the Reagan Administration also downscaled operations on the Wheel and at Tranquillity Base, we’re left with a space station and a moonbase which are critically undermanned as well as underfinanced. We believe …
Hollings: Okay, hold it right there. You just hit the key word—“underfinanced.” Of course, it shouldn’t be seen as coincidental that your report comes at the same time as the NASA budget for the next fiscal year is being considered by both the House and Senate, but this report seems to state that unless this country continues to spend as much money as it already does on space, if not increase appropriations, then the space program will fall apart tomorrow.
Ballou: Not tomorrow morning, Senator, or perhaps not even by next Tuesday … but it will continue to deteriorate over the coming decade until it becomes next to negligible. In the meantime, Europe will continue to develop its spacefaring capability. In all likelihood, so will Japan. When this occurs, the United States will be left with a space station and a lunar base that will be unable to compete in the global marketplace for space-based services.
Hollings: Such as these … um, solar-powered satellites? Mr. Ballou, may I remind you that this country already has an energy surplus? Even without building new nuclear power plants, the U.S. is able to furnish ample electrical power to all its citizens.
Ballou: Senator, may I remind the committee that our energy lifeline is largely dependent upon foreign oil? For now, yes, we enjoy the advantage of having the OPEC nations in disagreement over production and shipping, but we can’t depend on that forever. Europe and Japan have already learned that lesson, which is why they’re working on developing long-range forms of energy supply. If we …
Hollings: And I should remind the chief administrator that we are facing a budget deficit which requires all sectors of the government to make cutbacks in spending …
Ballou: Yes, sir. I’ve noted the salary increase the Senate just voted itself …
Rudman: Mr. Ballou, please keep to the matter at hand.
Ballou: I apologize, Mr. Chairman. Please ignore that outburst. It was uncalled-for.
Rudman: I quite agree. Senator Hollings?
Hollings: As I was saying, under the Deficit Reduction Act we’ve required all federal agencies to trim their fiscal outlays to reduce the national deficit by half over the next five years. NASA is no exception to the rule, Mr. Ballou, and I don’t see any reason why we should make an exception. NASA may want to explore the stars and galaxies, but we’ve got many pressing matters on Earth which need to be taken care of first. If our European allies and Japan want to squander their money on sky-high projects, they can do so.
But down at the Air and Space Museum there’s a rock in a display case that looks no different than a rock from South Carolina, and it took almost three hundred billion dollars to get it here from Mars. Your study says we should spend more tax money to go back and get another rock to keep it company. Now, how do you justify that sort of expenditure, Mr. Ballou?
Ballou: Senator, a follow-up to Project Ares was suggested as a long-term proposal, with another manned mission occurring sometime in the early twenty-first century if all other objectives in our proposal were first achieved. We’re not seriously suggesting that we go straight back to Mars. We’re simply saying that NASA’s operating budget cannot be trimmed much further without cutting into muscle and bone. We …
Rudman: Thank you, Mr. Ballou. The chair calls for a recess. We’ll continue this discussion on Friday, April 2.
SIXTEEN
2/19/95 • 0655 GMT
“ALTITUDE SEVENTY-FIVE HUNDRED FEET, manual attitude control is good.”
We copy, Conestoga. You’re now in final approach phase.
“Landing gear lowered, landing shoe deployed. Passing high gate at angels seven-three and all systems are nominal.”
You’re go for landing.
His palms were sticky with sweat; Parnell wiped them off on his trousers, then took a second to glance around A-deck. On the opposite side of the flight deck Ryer had her hands locked on the control yoke, her eyes flickering across the myriad dials and digital displays at her station, while Lewitt carefully watched the engine status board at his console.
Conestoga had passed “high gate,” the point of no return. At this juncture, it was a captive of lunar gravity and was committed to touchdown except in the most dire emergency, in which case firing engines to achieve escape velocity meant using the fuel reserves. If that happened, they would have no recourse except to limp home.
That wasn’t going to happen, though. So far, the descent had been smooth. One of the CRTs on Parnell’s console displayed a map of the landing site, with a series of concentric circles expanding outward from the ground-zero mark. He tapped a command into his keyboard and the computer responded by pinging twice; the tiny crosshatch designating Conestoga’s position was slightly to the left of the circles.
“Altitude two thousand feet and closing,” he said. “Landing beacon is acquired, thirty-five degrees from mark. Over.”
“Correcting attitude,” Ryer said. “Closing in on landing beacon.”
Parnell felt the ship tremble as Ryer fired thrusters to compensate for Conestoga’s drift. The crosshatch moved closer to the bull’s-eye as the moonship homed in on the automatic radio beacon at Tranquillity Base.
Roger that, Conestoga. You’re looking good. Over. Main-Ops was monitoring radar telemetry sent from the base, playing backseat driver.
“Fuel reserves nominal,” Lewitt said. “The shoe is down, gear is locked.” The shoe was a vertical probe which extended straight down from the center of the engine array, designed to absorb most of the landing shock and stabilize Conestoga once it was on the ground.
“Altitude one thousand two hundred feet, seven degrees off the zero and closing.” Parnell glanced away from his board, looking across the compartment at Ryer. “Need to goose it a little there, Cris. There’s a boulder field you need to …”
“I know, I know. I’ve been here before.” Ryer was fighting the yoke with one hand as she worked the thrusters with the other. Landing four hundred tons of flying skyscraper on a dime was not a job Parnell envied. Ryer had the skill and guts needed to pull it off, but he had done this once himself, and he didn’t recall being so goddamned nervous back in ’69….
Forget it, he told himself. Let her do her job.
Conestoga was now only a thousand feet above the base’s cleared landing area. Although Ryer had managed to compensate for engine drift, the ship’s terminal velocity was sixty-five mph above touchdown speed. “Angels one and we’re on the beam,” he said. “Coming in a little fast …”
As he spoke, he felt the entire fuselage shudder as Ryer throttled up the engines. She was braking Conestoga just in time; the ship listed one degree starboard, but she gimbaled the port thrusters and quickly brought the mammoth vessel back in line.
We copy, Conestoga, you’re on the mark. We check you at altitude seven hundred fifty feet and closing. Over.
“Roger that, Main-Ops. Altitude seven-two-five, all systems a-okay for touchdown.” For the first time since they had commenced final approach, Gene looked up at the TV monitors. The lunar horizon was no longer curved, but instead lay as flat as a Kansas prairie, gray volcanic maria with short rounded hills in the far distance. Dust was already being kicked up by the engines, but through the dirty haze he could make out boulders and small impact craters, and glimpses of unnatural man-made shapes reflecting sunlight….
No time for sightseeing. He pulled his eyes away from the screens and back to the console where they belonged. “Altitude four hundred, altitude three-five-oh …”
We copy, Conestoga …
“Reserves down by point two percent,” Lewitt said.
“Throttling back five percent,” Ryer responded.
“Staying on the beam, zero drift. Altitude one-fifty, one twenty-five. Throttle up a notch there …”
“Engines up one percent …”
“Altitude seven-fiver, attitude nominal …”
We copy, Conestoga. Looking good.
“Altitude fifty, engines down two percent.” The entire vessel shook as if it were caught in a minor earthquake. Nothing could be seen on the screens now except dust and dense shadows. Parnell licked his dry lips. “Altitude twenty-five, altitude twenty …”
“Engines back two percent …”
“Shoe contact light!” Lewitt shouted.
“Altitude fifteen … twelve … ten …”
Now he could hear an almost impossible roar as Conestoga’s engines baked the hard volcanic floor. “Eight … six … five … cut main engines.”
“Roger. Cutting main engines. Engine arm off.”
The trembling stopped, and for an eternal half-second there was the sensation of falling … then the landing gear slammed into the regolith.
“Touchdown!” Ryer yelled.
Conestoga teetered on its legs like a drunk fighting for balance. For an instant it seemed as if the towering vessel would keel over and crash on its side, but then the gyros told the hydraulics which end was supposed to be up, and the moonship remained erect. The fuselage creaked as gravity settled old bulkheads and deck plates into unfamiliar positions, but after a moment that, too, passed.
And then there was nothing but silence.
Parnell took a deep, shuddering breath. “Wheel Command, this is Conestoga. We have landed. Over.”
We copy, Conestoga. Good job.
“Engines safed,” Lewitt said, his fingers quickly moving across his console to click switches. “Internal pressure okay, landing gear intact, main computer reset on standby mode. All systems green.”
“Sounds right to me.” Parnell unbuckled his harness, then swung his legs off the couch and stood up, stretching his back and arms. His muscles ached slightly from the unaccustomed effort, but it was nice to feel gravity again, even if it was only one-sixth Earth-normal. “Nice flying there, Cris.”
“Thank you, Commander.” She had pulled out
her logbook, and didn’t look up to acknowledge the compliment. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”
He couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not, but decided to let it pass. He had other things to worry about just now. He sat down in the couch again and tabbed the radio key. “Wheel Command, this is Parnell. We’re down and all systems are copacetic. Joe, you there?”
Joe Laughlin’s voice came over the comlink five seconds later. Right here, Gene. Looks like a good landing.
“You can credit Captain Ryer for that. All I did was ride shotgun.” Ryer smiled a little and nodded her head, but continued to write in her logbook.
Let’s see if I can shake you up a little, he thought.
“Listen, Joe,” Parnell continued. “I want to alter the mission plan a bit, if you don’t mind. I want to hold off entering the base and proceed straight to Teal Falcon instead. You copy? Over.”
Ryer looked up sharply as he said this. Lewitt swiveled his couch around, his right eyebrow raised querulously. “Hey, Gene,” he began, “what are you … ?”
Parnell slightly held up his hand and shook his head. Fine with me, Gene, Laughlin said, but Mission is going to want a reason. In fact, we’ve got Ray on the line. Hold on.
A few seconds later Ray Harvey’s voice came over the S-band, relayed from the control room at Von Braun Space Center. Hi, Gene. Nice to see you guys made it safely. What’s the deal with wanting to head over to Sabine? Over.
Damn. Parnell hadn’t expected this, although he should have. Harvey was mission director, after all; any major change in the schedule would have to be approved by him. Joe Laughlin would have seconded the motion with no questions asked, but Harvey was a stickler for details.
“Thanks, Ray,” he replied. “Look, on the way down, I got to wondering about the status of the missiles. They’ve been mothballed for a long time now, y’know, and we’re probably going to want to give them an inspection before we ready them for launch. There might have also been some system decay in the bunker mainframes, so we may want to give them a good shakedown.”
