Back to the Moon-ARC

“Come on, Bill,” Jim said. “The U.S. was slipping into a recession then, too. Science fiction movies made space look sexier than the astronauts could. It was a whole bunch of forcing functions in a very complex dynamic system that caused the Moon missions to stop. Apollo 13 was preempted on television during primetime, and that was long before Cernan and Schmitt’s flight. I don’t think it was Nixon at all.”

Stetson said, “Yeah. All those things are true. Once you’ve gone to the Moon, what else can there be? How do you top that? NASA was given a tough act to follow—its own.”

England said, “Think about it. James T. Kirk was going to other star systems and hooking up with hot green chicks. All those Apollo guys ever did was bring home some rocks. The public got more out of the price of a movie ticket or a television show than NASA was delivering with their publicly perceived giant budget.”

“And you and I both know that NASA’s budget is tiny compared to most every other entitlement program or congressional boondoggle.”

“True.”

Stetson continued. “Only NASA can make the most complex and challenging endeavor in the history of humankind seem dull. Maybe we should’ve hired George Lucas or Steven Spielberg to do our marketing. Sure, we had great coverage for the last shuttle flight, with lots of legacy stories about the successes and failures of the shuttle program. Though if I’d had to see that video of the Challenger exploding again, I think I’d have puked.”

“No hot green chicks,” Jim interjected. “We need some hot green chicks. I think they were called green animal women slaves from Orion or some such thing. Yep, we need ’em.”

Bill ignored the comment and kept on going, “Yes, it was a tragedy, and yes, mistakes were made, but we’ve got to get over it someday and move forward. Think how insulting it must be to the thousands of engineers who made sure that those other one hundred and twenty flights were flown safely. What about the video that shows their successes?”

“Uh, people like a train wreck,” Jim reminded him.

“Humph.” Bill was on a roll and wasn’t ready to relinquish the floor just yet. “And what about the first manned flight of Ares I? The press was there with cameras rolling to see the rocket fly, but I think they’d have been just as eager to see it crash. They probably had their commentaries written for that before they even arrived at the Cape…and the astronauts’ obituaries, too. We were lucky the second flight made the news at all. If it hadn’t been for the Chinese having a launch failure the week before, I doubt we’d have rated high enough to report on.

“So, now we’ve flown over a hundred space shuttle missions, circling our tails in Earth orbit for decades. We’ve built a space station that people have been living in for fifteen years with the public’s perception that they were just floating around twiddling their thumbs and having fun eating floating globules of liquid astronaut food. We’re rebuilding a capability to go the Moon that we had—we had, mind you—when I was a child and then threw away.” Stetson almost looked angry as he turned to face England. Jim hated seeing his friend getting so worked up.

“Water under the bridge, buddy. Now, if we can manage to find some of those green animal—”

Bill cut him off with a very Spock-like raised eyebrow that told Jim he was about to push a little too far. “Jim, we’ve wasted fifty years since Neil Armstrong walked on the Moon. Yeah, we’ve done some science, and we’ve supposedly learned about how people will ultimately survive the trip to Mars. I’d never say it in public, but we’ve wasted the legacy of Von Braun and all those engineers who put us on another world before you were born. I want to get back to the Moon and prove to the American people that space exploration is worth it. That going to Mars is doable and worth it. And that going to Mars should not wait another fifty years. Going to the Moon is the first step toward that, and it is what I’m meant to do.”

“Me, too, Bill. Me, too.” Jim smiled at his friend because he didn’t doubt his last statement for an instant.

Chapter 4

Retired Navy pilot Paul Gesling paced in the waiting area outside the office of Gary Childers, president of Space Excursions. Gesling, who was too tall to qualify as a NASA astronaut, looked more like a recently retired professional basketball player than a soon-to-be commercial space pilot. His forty-one-year-old frame was covered with muscle, and his piercing green eyes and coal-black hair gave him the appearance of being some sort of wealthy playboy—at least to the ladies that he frequently found himself in the company of. And they seemed to like it—and him.

He grew tired of pacing after a while and sat on the plush green couch in the waiting area. Being one of those people who was uncomfortable just sitting around without something to read, he absentmindedly picked up one of the brochures that described the company’s history.

The Space Excursions headquarters in Lexington, Kentucky, was everything one would expect of a company founded, owned, and managed by a man who had made his billions in coal. Rich, thick carpet and high, ornately carved ceilings adorned every room in the twenty-five-story building that served as the global headquarters of both Space Excursions and Coal Tech, Inc. The glass and steel building might not be the tallest in town, but it was certainly one of the most striking. A French architect, whose name no one could recall without resorting to looking it up online, had designed the building and reserved the top floor for the company founder and CEO’s pet project, Space Excursions. A dedicated elevator running up the north side of the building served to remind all visitors that they were leaving coal country and entering the twenty-first century.

Gary Childers, having lived through sixty revolutions of the Earth around the sun, as he liked to put it, was a genuine space geek. Born and raised in Kentucky, he had made his fortune in coal. Of course, having started with a smaller family fortune certainly helped. He made his money and career in mining, shipping, and selling coal, but his heart was always in space. His interest became his business after the success of the first commercial human space flight back in 2004 with the launching of the Paul Allen and Burt Rutan project, SpaceShipOne. While other companies were forming to send people to Earth orbit, he decided to do them one better and offer a commercial ride around the Moon. Space Excursions was born.

He hired the best and brightest engineers and scientists from America and around the world to make his vision a reality. With a manufacturing facility in Nevada near the Las Vegas Commercial Spaceport, Space Excursions quietly took the lead in the next step of space tourism. Over a thousand people had now paid over two hundred thousand dollars per person to make suborbital flights with his competitors, and several millionaires had paid the Russians to take them to orbit. Now it was his turn. Five people had paid twenty-five million dollars each for a seat on the maiden flight of Dreamscape, the flagship of Space Excursions. Twenty-five more had made deposits for the next flights, the first of which was scheduled to occur within six months of the first. It