Eagle Station

“It is impossible… for NASA,” Brad said bluntly. The space agency’s reaction was perfectly understandable. Mating an Orion crew vehicle to the ESA-designed service module in orbit would be an intricate and complicated task. First, it meant checking, and if necessary, fixing the hundreds of bolts, power cables, and fuel and water pipes and conduits that tied the service module to its adapter ring. Then it required maneuvering the gumdrop-shaped crew vehicle into precise alignment with the adapter ring, all before carefully connecting an umbilical boom containing fluid, gas, electrical, and data lines. On Earth, at the Kennedy Space Center, the process took weeks of work by skilled technicians.

He saw the president eyeing him and walked through his reasoning. “So there’s no way astronauts wearing standard EVA suits could handle the job,” he finished.

“But you think Sky Masters can?” Farrell pressed.

“Yes, sir. We have the advanced equipment and we have the know-how,” Brad said firmly. “The plan’s not that complicated, although the execution’s definitely tricky. Basically what we have in mind is this: NASA launches the unmanned Orion crew vehicle aboard a Falcon 9 or some other rocket in that class and has it dock with Eagle Station. Then we send the ESA-built service module up aboard a Falcon Heavy. Once everything’s in orbit, a Sky Masters team will assemble the crew vehicle and service module — and then slot them onto the Falcon Heavy’s second-stage booster.”

He allowed his enthusiasm a little more free rein. “Then NASA’s astronauts come aboard, maneuver away from Eagle Station, and light off that Falcon’s Merlin-1D engine. And, zoom, our guys are on their way to lunar orbit.”

“Do you have the facts and figures to prove this space-based assembly concept of yours is workable?” Farrell asked seriously.

“Yes, sir,” Brad assured him.

“All right, then,” Farrell said in approval. “If your numbers pan out, I’ll get buy-in from the National Security Council and we’ll wrestle NASA into submission. The agency can bitch all it wants, but if necessary, I’ll damn well override them in the national interest.”

He stood up, a move followed by everyone else in the room. “Let’s get going, people. It’s high time we kicked this country’s manned lunar program into high gear.”

Thirty-Two

Morrell Operations Center, Space Launch Complex 37B, Cape Canaveral Space Force Station, Florida

A Few Weeks Later

From her command station, Space Force Colonel Kathleen Locke peered intently at her monitor. Floodlights showed a large orange-and-white rocket connected to a tall mobile gantry out at the launchpad, close to seven miles away. The 236-foot-tall Delta IV Heavy, with its core booster and two equal-sized side boosters, weighed more than eight hundred tons. Clouds of vapor curled away from the rocket, bright white in the lights.

Around her, the operations center’s officers and senior enlisted personnel were equally intent on their own tasks. If anything went haywire with the Delta IV Heavy on its way into orbit, they would trigger its self-destruct systems. Locke mentally crossed her fingers. Her senior commanders had made sure she knew the classified payload aboard that rocket was critically important to America’s national security. If this launch failed, it would take months to prepare a replacement.

Through her headset, she heard a steady stream of reports and announcements from the launch controllers.

“Minus fifteen.”

“Go for ignition.”

On-screen, showers of orange and white sparks started flaring out from under all three boosters.

“Ten… nine… eight… seven… six—”

“Booster start.”

Jets of orange flame curled out from under the massive rocket, growing rapidly in size and intensity as all three huge engines throttled up to full power — producing more than two million pounds of thrust. Through the operation center’s speakers, a deep, crackling roar echoed across Cape Canaveral’s marshlands. Flocks of birds, stirred out of sleep by the sudden glare of light and thunderous noise, fluttered uneasily up into the air.

“Liftoff!”

Three steel gantry bridges pivoted away. Slowly at first, and then faster, the Delta IV climbed into the Florida night sky, borne aloft on three pillars of blinding fire. Within seconds, the rocket was visible only as a flickering column of flame powering higher and higher as it curved eastward across the Atlantic.

“Core booster going to partial thrust mode. Strap-on boosters look good in full thrust mode,” a controller reported calmly. “Vehicle trajectory looks good. Right down the middle of the range track.” Locke breathed out. Throttling down the center rocket motor was a normal measure to conserve fuel in the main engine. It was also another possible failure point, if the Delta’s automated systems had glitched.

Long-range cameras tracked the rocket as it soared higher into the atmosphere. Nearly four minutes into flight, the same controller said, “Port and starboard boosters are throttling down.”