Back to the Moon-ARC

Apollo and NASA, and it was about to happen for real.

“Okay, we’re going around the horn,” Paul announced over the intercom. “I want a thumbs-up, a smile, and your name and status just like we’ve trained.” Paul toggled the screen to show five sections. Each split-screen section had a corresponding seat number and occupant name above it.

“Seat 1A, status?”

“Matt Thibodeau is A-OK!”

“Seat 1B, status?”

“Maquita Singer is A-OK!”

“Seat 2A, status?”

“Sharik Mbanta is A-OK!”

“Seat 2B, status?”

“Bridget Wells is A-OK!”

“Seat 3B, status?”

“John Graves is A-OK!”

“Roger that. Dreamscape crew is good to go.” Paul gave them all the green light and returned the thumbs-up and smile. “Control, our checklist is clear, and we are all systems go.”

“Roger that, Dreamscape. All systems are go for launch.”

In addition to the space enthusiasts, the Honda minivan was back, antenna deployed, positioned to monitor the Dreamscape launch from its chosen observation post fifteen miles away—the occupants doing their jobs for their country. That didn’t stop them from also reveling in the moment, for they, too, harbored an interest in going to space. Watching Dreamscape start to roll down the runway was just as exciting for them as it was for all those at or near the spaceport. They just wanted to make sure that there was enough data captured for their countrymen to someday duplicate the feat.

The acceleration pushed Paul back into the webbing that secured him to his seat. He could feel the skin on his cheekbones being pulled back toward his ears. He could hear his heartbeat and feel the kick to his abdomen as the Dreamscape’s scramjet engaged at a little over twenty thousand feet. The whine of the engines was only momentarily loud before the cabin’s active soundproofing kicked in and diminished it to something just short of a deafening dull roar.

Just a few feet away from Gesling and the five passengers, Dreamscape’s engines began running in ramjet mode, with the airflow into the engine traveling at something less than the speed of sound. As velocity increased, so did the speed of the air coming into the engines.

All systems were working as they should, and Paul saw no warning lights. He watched the Dreamscape’s velocity steadily increase from Mach 1 to Mach 2, and, in just a few short seconds, to Mach 3, then 4. At Mach 8 the engine switched from ramjet to scramjet mode as the air flowing into the engine’s inlet became self-sustaining at hypersonic velocities. Now the vehicle was truly hauling ass and accelerating toward its top airspeed of Mach 12.

While Gesling was focused on the vehicle, the passengers were taking note that the Earth now appeared to be rather small, with noticeable curvature. The “ah ha!” moment came first to Maquita Singer, and she couldn’t help but voice her observation, “It’s a planet after all. Where are the borders? It’s just one planet. This is truly amazing!” Her comment elicited a grunt from Thibodeau and a nod from Dr. Graves.

“It’s called the overview effect,” Bridget Wells commented knowingly. “Since the sixties, many astronauts independently made the same observation once they got up here. There’ve been books written about it—I read them all doing research for the last television series I was writing for.”

Another grunt came from Thibodeau.

Gesling and all the passengers felt the hard slap of the first stage separating. The scramjet first stage had done its job and propelled the Dreamscape to twelve times the speed of sound. It was now time for it to fly back to the landing site for refurbishment and repair.

A fraction of a second later, the upper-stage rocket motor ignited, once again pushing everyone back sharply into their seats. The rocket continued accelerating the Dreamscape as it left the last remnants of Earth’s atmosphere and entered interplanetary space.

The passengers, now astronauts, stared out their windows at the spherical blue Earth beneath them. The thin haze that was the atmosphere enveloped the globe, and sunlight glinted off the now-useless wings on the right side of Dreamscape. Above them was pure darkness until their eyes grew accustomed to it and they were then able to see the stars.

Gesling saw all this, and more. But he didn’t have time to appreciate the beauty and grandeur. He had a job to do. So far there were no warning lights, and all systems appeared to be working as designed. A few minutes into the checklist, the onboard Global Positioning System locked on to four satellites, the inertial-navigation unit spun up, and the exterior star trackers started mapping their orientation. The amalgam of the three systems input data into the ship’s computer, which in turn calculated Dreamscape’s exact orbital position and orientation with respect to the Earth and space.

“GPS acquired,” Gesling said. “Computer: nav-lock to depot.” He didn’t often use the computer’s voice- recognition program, but in this case he made an exception. A few moments later, projected on the heads-up display as if written by a ghostly unseen companion, the trajectory the computer plotted between his current location and the nearly co-orbital refueling station appeared before him. Relieved, Gesling spoke to his ground controllers. “I’ve got the trajectory to the depot plotted and am about to engage. We’re right where we’re supposed to be, and we should rendezvous in less than three orbits.”

“Roger that, Dreamscape.”

“Control, we’re ready for OOB in forty-five.”

“Roger that, Dreamscape. Clock shows OOB on schedule.”

“Warning, prepare for orbital orientation burn.” The Bitchin’ Betty’s voice chimed throughout the little spacecraft. “In three, two, one.”