The astronauts were beginning to arrive. A buffet lunch was set out in one of the lower assembly rooms at the Johnson Space Center. My wife Linda and I were there early to ensure everything needed would be to hand. My function would be to knit the force together so that we could act as one when we arrived on the moon. Linda was responsible for Dragonstar training and would be working with the pilots who would take us from the Gateway to the surface. She, of course, was grounded owing to some irresponsible freefall lovemaking in lunar orbit during our frantic journey to escape the infected crew just over a month previously.
‘Hi, you two,’ said Neil as he entered the assembly room with some of the NASA astronauts and others I only recognised from images.
‘Hi, Neil,’ said Linda.
‘Sorry you’re going to miss out on this gig,’ he replied. ‘Let me introduce you, although you’ll know most of the crew.’
Neil waved for the new arrivals to come over to us.
‘I’m sure you’ll all know Mark Noble who will be mission commander,’ said Neil. ‘Linda Fuller… sorry, Noble – they married last week – will be responsible for Dragonstar training. You will all continue to work with your own Orion training teams.’ He began announcing the names of each of the team.
I knew Dave Morgan, Pete Hazel, Anna Stanbury and Penny Heston from my own training group. Linda would not be pleased to see that Penny was on the squad. When I’d had a one-night fling with her about a year ago, it caused Linda and me to break up until she forgave me at Moonbase in January.
I’d been introduced to Colonel Doug Baker and Captain Mike Robertson earlier. They were to be in command of the international military personnel under my supervision. Anna, a brilliant pilot, was to be my deputy. Bill Wright was to be my independent military adviser and confidant provided by NASA for that purpose.
‘Nice to see you guys again. Which of you have experience?’ I asked. I knew full well who had done what, but this gave each of them a chance to break the ice with the group, which had now been joined by the six Russians and four of the Chinese.
‘ISS twice,’ said Dave, a white Brit with sandy hair.
‘Moonbase – one tour,’ said Pete, an Indonesian mixed race with very gentle features.
‘Me too,’ said Anna, a white brunette. ‘Orion and Dragonstar pilot.’
‘Excellent, Anna,’ said Linda. ‘I could do with some help on Dragonstar training.’
‘ISS, one tour,’ said Penny, colouring slightly as she spoke. Like Linda, she was a stunning petite platinum blonde. Hence Linda’s annoyance.
‘And the rest of you – some have familiar faces but give us all a breakdown of what you’ve been doing,’ I said.
‘I’m Bill Wright, ex-army, now training for Moonbase,’ said a tall, heavily-built, but not overweight black man of Afro-Caribbean origin. He looked very no-nonsense and efficient. Neil had chosen him to offer specialist military advice to me. We’d met once and had got on really well.
‘Krishna Mishra, neuro-surgeon. Never flown,’ said a slight, nervous Indian man in his thirties.
‘I’ve never had to cut open a skull,’ I said. ‘Don’t look so anxious.’
‘Worried about space-sickness,’ he admitted.
‘Well, you’ll be fine on the moon and we’ll look after you en route,’ said Anna.
Also, in the group were the anaesthetist and two theatre nurses, none of whom had been in space.
Three of the Chinese astronauts were military, one of whom was a trained pilot. A fourth, Chi, was a very experienced astronaut and both a Ming and Dragonstar pilot.
Four of the six Russians were military. The other two were experienced Uspekh and Dragonstar pilots. One had served a tour at Moonbase and the other at the Chinese habitat.
The remainder of the military were US Marines and British commandos.
‘I’m very pleased to have met you all,’ I said. ‘I’m sure that all of your names will eventually stick. Don’t hesitate to tell me if I make mistakes.’
‘Help yourselves to the buffet,’ said Neil. ‘Mark and I will then take you to the theatre and we’ll run through the strategy.’
The buffet soon looked as if it had been struck by a plague of locusts and the chatter changed from introductions to stories of lives lived and visits made to orbit or the moon.
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Four weeks intense training, including several vomit-comet flights, gave us a good idea who would or wouldn’t be comfortable in freefall. We lost only two, sadly an experienced Marine and a British commando, but there was no shortage of volunteers to replace them.
The last evening, Linda and I made a point of having a quiet dinner, leaving the other Orion astronauts to enjoy an evening’s leisure. The Russians and Chinese had returned home by private jet, and the mass launch was scheduled for the tenth of April. We would be at the Gateway by the fifteenth as long as we didn’t run into any serious delays.
‘Don’t like the way she looks at you,’ said Linda.
‘Nothing is going to happen,’ I said, holding her hand. ‘I was foolish when we were just dating. We weren’t exclusive then. I love you.’
She still didn’t look happy. ‘I thought we were exclusive!’
I tried to reassure her. ‘We’re married. She never meant anything to me. You trust me, don’t you?’
‘It’s not you I don’t trust, it’s her! I can’t help but notice the way she looks at you and the way she stands when she’s near you… and all the blushing when she talks to you.’
‘I promise. You know you don’t really need to worry. That was a long time ago and it was before we’d committed to each other. Let’s not spoil tonight talking about her.’
The subject changed and we talked about more domestic matters and preparations for becoming a proper family. The apartment wasn’t suitable for a young family and we’d need to upsize during the pregnancy. The mission could be five months, by the time we sorted out the mess at Moonbase. The infected crew had smashed the equipment in the com dome, and it would take time to repair. When I returned to Earth, Linda would be almost ready to give birth.
We didn’t want to waste our last night together, and our romantic dinner ended exactly as might be expected.
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Three Orions sat at the Kennedy Space Center. Never before had there been three simultaneous launches. Well, in fact they wouldn’t be quite at the same time. One of the Orions was mounted on a SpaceX Heavy. It would be leaving shortly. The other two Orions, mounted on the NASA SLS (Space Launch System) rockets would launch an hour and ninety minutes after the SpaceX. A huge crowd had been gathering over the last few days.
We’d heard that the two Mings were successfully in orbit already, as was one of the two Uspekhs. The other was due to launch any minute.
I was in the last Orion to fly, with Bill Wright, Doug Baker, Mike Robertson, Gillian Atwell and our flight commander, Anna Stanbury. Although these Orions had been re-equipped to hold up to six, the radiation projectors were quite bulky and a lot of supplies were flying with us, enough for up to thirty-six people for six months. It would be an uncomfortable squeeze until we reached the Gateway.
We sat in the departure area, watching the countdown for the SpaceX Heavy. There was a hold at one-minute. NASA would be tying in with the SpaceX administration to ensure there was a smooth rendezvous with the two Dragonstar vessels. SpaceX would then link the command systems so that the Orion and Dragonstars could set off for the moon in formation.
All of the other craft would leave Earth orbit independently. The mechanics of orbital manoeuvring made formation flying virtually impossible when in space without computers being linked. All space pilots had at some time experienced extreme amusement when watching fleets of space fighters holding formation in the Star Wars and Star Trek films. It just wasn’t possible in reality.
‘Two, ignition, zero and lift-off of the SpaceX Heavy,’ was announced and we watched the huge stack setting off over the Atlantic towards northern Africa, the crackle of the jets sounding like a million simultaneous Roman candles being fired. Spectacular to watch. The three boosters would return to Earth once their job was done.
We were next to go. The flight director entered the departure area and we all rose, already in our flight suits, and made our way to pad thirty-nine. The others were launching from pad six.
Orions were spacious compared with the old Soyuz and Apollo capsules, but not so much with so many on board. Anna and I sat in the guidance seats with the remaining crew behind us. Once the outer door was sealed, the countdown began, although we would still have nearly an hour to wait.
During the interval, I ran through the last week in my mind. The cosmic ray-guns were easy enough to use, but of course we’d had no way to be one hundred per cent certain they’d work. As with most NASA projects, one had to have trust in the scientists’ expertise. Everyone understood the importance of care in the operation and that it was the responsibility of all of us to ensure the medical crew were protected.
Ten minutes. Anna and I were now busy with the last part of countdown, listening to mission control and checking and cross-checking the data on our screens.
One minute. There is a huge anticipation and tension which begins to build in the final sixty seconds, and at that point the countdown is too advanced to be stopped. The only thing we could do now, if something went wrong, would be to fire the emergency escape rockets. The SLS stack beneath us would then become a multi-million-pound firework with our section struggling to keep ahead of the exploding gasses.
Three, two, ignition, zero and lift-off.
We were kicked in the back by enormous forces as the rocket cleared the tower and began its climb to orbit.
Telemetry was good, angle of lift-off was perfect, acceleration nominal. After a minute, I heard Anna confirming the ship was throttling back as we passed through maximum dynamic pressure, then those four unforgettable words from mission control.
‘Orion 1. Go with throttle up!’
‘Go with throttle up,’ Anna repeated, and we felt the g-forces rise again as maximum thrust was applied.
This was the point during launch at which the space shuttle Challenger had exploded and I’m sure all of us had a thought about the lost astronauts as we moved smoothly onwards towards orbit but probably gripping our armrests a little more tightly.
‘Confirm booster separation,’ said Anna and we all felt a little less heavy now that it was only the main stack firing. The boosters had been jettisoned and were falling back to land at Cape Canaveral.
Later, Anna warned, ‘Prepare for staging.’
All thrust ceased and we were thrown forward. Bill had loosened his harness and his helmet hit the panel in front of him. We were, for just a few seconds getting a taste of freefall, then the third stage cut in and we were slammed backwards into our seats.
The third stage fired for less than two minutes then cut out. We were in rendezvous orbit.
‘Orbit achieved,’ said mission control.
‘Orbit confirmed,’ said Anna.
‘Neil, do you copy?’ I said.
‘Copy you, Mark.’
‘Everyone in orbit okay?’
‘No problems. Orion 3 has linked computers with the two Dragonstars. We’re just checking all of the orbits and we’ll give each of you a specific go for trans-lunar injection,’ said Neil.
‘No change in order?’
‘No. You first then Orion 3, Uspekh 1, Ming 1, Uspekh 2, Orion 2 and Ming 2.’
‘Thanks, Neil,’ I said, cut the connection and joined the others in enjoying the view of our beautiful planet from orbit.