Back To The Moon Part 6

"Jim, we've had this discussion before. What they're doing is a piece of cake compared to going to the surface. You and I both know that. Don't sell them short, though. It is still dangerous as all get-out."

"Bill, yes, we we know that. But the public doesn't!" England was emphatic. "Sometimes I wonder why we care so much." know that. But the public doesn't!" England was emphatic. "Sometimes I wonder why we care so much."

Stetson was unprepared for that one, but it did ratchet down the emotion and the volume of the discussion. Everyone involved in the s.p.a.ce business, government or private, had probably asked themselves that same question at one time or another. Some asked it many times. "Why do I care about it so much?" For Stetson, the answer was simple. Because it was there, and that meant that someone, and it might as well be him, needed to go "there" and explore.

He knew how Childers would answer, if he'd been on the phone and asked the question. Stetson was confident that Childers would talk about how there was money to be made on the Moon and how he was going to be the one to make it.

Not realizing he was mumbling out loud as his thoughts once again wandered, Stetson said, "You can't argue with that." He was, of course, talking about Childers's likely motivation for going to the Moon, though England had no way of know that.

"Huh? What's that you said?" asked England.

"It was nothing. s.p.a.ced out on you for a second. I wonder why we do care so much sometimes."

Gesling heard the news just after he crash-landed the Dreamscape Dreamscape in the Nevada desert. During this latest simulation, the vehicle experienced a complete loss of pressure during reentry, followed by a premature deployment of the landing gear-at twenty thousand feet. The result was a pretty messy landing, without gear, at the Nevada s.p.a.ceport. The pa.s.senger cabin remained in one piece, and the sensors indicated that at no time did the g-forces cross the line into "fatal." If this had been real life, and not a simulation, s.p.a.ce Excursions would have been very glad they had a good team of lawyers. in the Nevada desert. During this latest simulation, the vehicle experienced a complete loss of pressure during reentry, followed by a premature deployment of the landing gear-at twenty thousand feet. The result was a pretty messy landing, without gear, at the Nevada s.p.a.ceport. The pa.s.senger cabin remained in one piece, and the sensors indicated that at no time did the g-forces cross the line into "fatal." If this had been real life, and not a simulation, s.p.a.ce Excursions would have been very glad they had a good team of lawyers.

As Gesling extricated himself from the pilot's chair, which was not an easy task for someone of his height, he heard the voice of Caroline O'Conner chatting on her cell phone just outside the Dreamscape Dreamscape simulator. She was fairly excited and asking whomever she was speaking with to e-mail her the complete details of whatever they were discussing. He liked Caroline, not in a romantic sort of way, but as a friend and overall decent person to be around. He always looked forward to spending more time with her. Perhaps he was beginning to enjoy her company too much.... simulator. She was fairly excited and asking whomever she was speaking with to e-mail her the complete details of whatever they were discussing. He liked Caroline, not in a romantic sort of way, but as a friend and overall decent person to be around. He always looked forward to spending more time with her. Perhaps he was beginning to enjoy her company too much....

"Paul!" He was roused from his musings by her voice calling his name. As he hesitated to respond, she raised her voice. "Paul! Over here! You'll want to know about this."

Gesling was finally free of the harness holding him and his bulky pressure suit to the pilot's chair. Though he couldn't yet exit the simulator because of the numerous to-do items remaining on his checklist, he did motion for Caroline to step inside.

"Hey, Caroline. What's up?"

"The Chinese just launched their complete lunar system. They're conducting a robotic test run end-to-end. The news is saying this means they may be on the Moon within a couple of months."

"Are they flying a Dreamscape Dreamscape?" asked Gesling, sarcasm dripping from every word.

"Ha!" O'Conner c.o.c.ked her head backward and looked down her nose at Gesling, which was difficult since he was easily eight inches taller than she. "No, they aren't yet yet flying a flying a Dreamscape Dreamscape. But the Moon is going to be crowded these next few weeks. The Chinese test flight began today. We launch next week, and NASA is supposed to fly the week after that. We haven't been to the Moon in half a century, and now everyone will be going-within a few weeks of each other. We couldn't have planned it this way if we'd tried. Gary is gonna be ecstatic!"

Gesling was hearing her words, but for some reason he was distracted by the way she raised her right eyebrow as she looked "down" at him in her best schoolteacher manner. It really accented her green eyes and high cheekbones. Before long, he wasn't even hearing her words anymore.

"...Lunar surface trips for s.p.a.ce Excursions." Caroline paused, wondering why there had been no reaction from Paul. "Paul? Are you in there?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that. I was just thinking about the simulation," he lied. "What did you say?"

"Sometimes I wonder about you!" was her first reaction. She then said, "Gary told me this morning that he's signed a deal with investors to begin our own lunar-landing effort. He's going to announce it after you return from the Moon. I think he wants to tell you himself, so please don't let on that I already told you."

Gesling was not totally surprised; he and Childers had spoken several times about what the next step would be for s.p.a.ce Excursions. He just hadn't expected it to come so soon. He at first thought he should bolt to Childers's office and give him every opportunity to break the news. Then he remembered the post-simulation checklist and procedures. But even that took second place to finis.h.i.+ng the conversation with Caroline. Yes, he would definitely have to make more time for talking with her.

The U.S. military took notice of what the Chinese were doing as well. Before the media knew of the launch, the U.S. s.p.a.ce Command was already on top of it. Headquartered at Peterson Air Force Base in Colorado, s.p.a.ce Command had been informed in advance of the Chinese plans and had the appropriate air and s.p.a.ce a.s.sets in place to monitor all aspects of the launch and its early flight. Thanks to excellent human intelligence from within the China National s.p.a.ce Administration, American intelligence and the U.S. s.p.a.ce Command were watching as the Chinese version of the American Ares V lifted off from central China on its way to the Moon.

Pictures taken from the Pentagon's low Earth-orbit s.p.a.cecraft could literally read the lettering on the side of the rocket as it pa.s.sed on its way to Trans-Lunar Injection. Additional s.p.a.cecraft in geostationary orbit were retargeted to make similar observations as the vehicle accelerated away from the Earth. The launch was flawless.

The Chinese had opted for a lunar orbit rendezvous approach. Like Apollo, they were going to launch the entire vehicle, including the crew and the lunar lander, on one rocket. Unlike the United States, whose lunar missions would use two rockets, one for crew and the other for all the hardware required for reaching the Moon, the Chinese opted for just one. They had no International s.p.a.ce Station to service with the crew-launch vehicle, so the idea, and cost, of building two rockets was simply out of the question.

To those monitoring the flight and listening to all the telemetry and voice chatter from the Chinese ground controllers, this seemed to be a full dress rehearsal for the real thing. As far as anyone could tell, the Chinese were treating this like a crewed launch and dotting all their i's to make sure it went according to plan. Signals-intelligence stations were even picking up mock-up voice-data channels going back and forth between the ground and the rocket.

As good as American intelligence was, they still could not decode in real time all of the telemetry coming back from the rocket. The encryption was too good, and it would take some time to decipher. The data was pa.s.sed off to the supercomputer center at the National Security Agency with top priority for decryption. The code-breaker wizards there would figure it out soon enough. Unfortunately, it would not be deciphered for at least a week, because there was already a priority cipher in the queue-and a few surprises would have been avoided had they been able to decode it just a little bit faster.

Before the press knew what was going on, appropriate phone calls were made to the White House and the Pentagon about the Chinese launch. Within an hour, Calvin Ross was aware of the flight and had called the manager of the NASA Public Affairs Office, asking him to be prepared to take the inevitable questions from the media. And once the story broke, the phone calls started coming in.

In China, when the news broke, the public was euphoric. Spontaneous rallies broke out at China's major engineering universities, with the students carrying homemade banners extolling both their s.p.a.ce agency and their political leaders. Schoolchildren began writing letters to the taikonauts who, they were told, would be taking the first piloted journey in just a few months. Companies that had made hardware for the flight convened "all hands" meetings of their employees, allowing them to take time off to watch televised replays of the rocket launch and the animations of what the rocket would be doing in s.p.a.ce during its voyage to the surface of the Moon.

For China, it was a day of national pride and antic.i.p.ation. Antic.i.p.ation of the next step, expected in a scant few months, that would carry three Chinese taikonauts to the Moon and show the world that China had "arrived."

Oddly enough, the public in archrival India celebrated as well. The world's largest democracy, though much poorer than its Western cousins, had made tremendous strides in s.p.a.ce exploration over the previous decade. India itself was only a few years away from sending vyomanauts into Earth orbit. Seeing another formerly backward country be on the edge of accomplis.h.i.+ng what only one of the last century's superpowers could attain was a cause for celebration. Engineers were jealous. Politicians were eager to use the moment to promote India's growing technological prowess. And the average Indian looked forward to their own day on the Moon.

In America, few noticed and even fewer really cared. And fewer still understood the technical implications and political ramifications. In America, it was just another day and another headline about something happening "over there somewhere."

Chapter 15.

"This is it!" Paul Gesling said into the camera that transmitted his image from the c.o.c.kpit of the Dreamscape Dreamscape to the five pa.s.sengers strapped into their seats behind him in the crew cabin. "In a few days, you'll be the first people since the Apollo astronauts to go to the Moon and back. I know the training has sometimes been less than fun, but what we're about to do will make history and give you something to tell your grandchildren about. You are going to get your money's worth-and then some!" to the five pa.s.sengers strapped into their seats behind him in the crew cabin. "In a few days, you'll be the first people since the Apollo astronauts to go to the Moon and back. I know the training has sometimes been less than fun, but what we're about to do will make history and give you something to tell your grandchildren about. You are going to get your money's worth-and then some!"

Not wanting to be distracted from his preflight checklist any longer, Gesling turned back to the forward view screen and instrument panel. With the press of a virtual b.u.t.ton on the touch screen, he turned off his audio but left the video feed on. Gary Childers insisted that the paying customers have a chance to see what the hired help was up to in all stages of the mission.

The Dreamscape Dreamscape was certainly living up to its name. Perched on the Nevada desert runway like a large and beautiful bird, it was about to take flight. The engines were running, producing the telltale heat exhaust, causing the air behind the vehicle to distort light in unusual ways, making objects appear to ripple in the heat of the mid-day sun. Crisscrossing orange and red plasma streams poured into a billowing exhaust cloud of puffy white steam. Emblazoned on the front of the s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p was its name, the corporate emblem of s.p.a.ce Excursions, and a big American flag. Gary Childers was in business to make money, but he was also a proud American. was certainly living up to its name. Perched on the Nevada desert runway like a large and beautiful bird, it was about to take flight. The engines were running, producing the telltale heat exhaust, causing the air behind the vehicle to distort light in unusual ways, making objects appear to ripple in the heat of the mid-day sun. Crisscrossing orange and red plasma streams poured into a billowing exhaust cloud of puffy white steam. Emblazoned on the front of the s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p was its name, the corporate emblem of s.p.a.ce Excursions, and a big American flag. Gary Childers was in business to make money, but he was also a proud American.

Within the vehicle, hundreds of sensors were measuring electrical current in numerous subsystems, fluid temperatures, and the mechanical status of anything and everything that had to move or rotate in order for Dreamscape Dreamscape to make its upcoming voyage. to make its upcoming voyage.

As the pa.s.sengers waited anxiously in their seats, the shrill whine of the jet engines increased in volume as one of the last preflight tests was run to completion.

Gesling was pleased. So far, all systems were operating as they should, and the launch countdown was proceeding on schedule. In just another few minutes, he would ease off the brakes, throttle up, and begin the journey down the runway. Piece of cake, Piece of cake, he thought to himself. he thought to himself.

Now it was time for Gesling to examine the crew in the last of his preflight checklists. This checklist was not one that the FAA required; rather, it was one Gary Childers mandated. First, he was to look over the vital signs of each pa.s.senger, as relayed to the display to his left inside the c.o.c.kpit. From here he could monitor their heart rate, blood pressure, body temperature, and virtually every other organ in their bodies. Each had been benchmarked against their physiological profiles during training, and the current results were meticulously compared with their earlier results by the onboard computer. If any were out of the antic.i.p.ated bounds for this, the real thing, then Gesling was authorized to have them removed from the vehicle. The Moon was nearly a quarter million miles away from the nearest hospital, and under no circ.u.mstances could the health of any pa.s.senger jeopardize the mission (or its profitability and good press coverage).

The second part of the Childers Checklist was highly subjective. Paul was to look over the faces of each pa.s.senger and determine if any looked like they were about to panic or faint. Again, this could be cause for removal-but Paul knew that if he exercised this option and the pa.s.senger turned out to be okay, his future piloting opportunities with s.p.a.ce Excursions would be limited indeed.

The Dreamscape Dreamscape was designed with seats much like those of a commercial jet. There was one pilot seat up front in the middle of the c.o.c.kpit. Behind the pilot seat was the "aisle," and on either side was one seat. Each pa.s.senger therefore had an aisle and a window. The seats were numbered in rows and lettered for the side of the aisle they were on. Seats 1A and 2A were on the left side of the aisle. Seats 1B, 2B, and 3B were on the right. Where seat 3A would have been was where the docking/boarding hatch was located. And behind seat 3B was the bathroom and storage-container wall. Each of the seats was designed for full reclining to allow for sleeping on the long lunar flights. But at present all the seats were upright and filled with occupants. was designed with seats much like those of a commercial jet. There was one pilot seat up front in the middle of the c.o.c.kpit. Behind the pilot seat was the "aisle," and on either side was one seat. Each pa.s.senger therefore had an aisle and a window. The seats were numbered in rows and lettered for the side of the aisle they were on. Seats 1A and 2A were on the left side of the aisle. Seats 1B, 2B, and 3B were on the right. Where seat 3A would have been was where the docking/boarding hatch was located. And behind seat 3B was the bathroom and storage-container wall. Each of the seats was designed for full reclining to allow for sleeping on the long lunar flights. But at present all the seats were upright and filled with occupants.

Paul looked at Matt Thibodeau in seat 1A. The arrogant SOB looked calm enough. He was in his seat, glancing around the cabin, out the window, and then down at the status screen on the back of the chair in front of his seat. If it weren't for the pressure suit, he would look like any other bored businessman taking an airplane flight to some other city for a business meeting. Gesling didn't much like Thibodeau, but there was no obvious reason to remove him.

Next, he glanced at Maquita Singer, the millionaire owner of South Africa's Singer Luxury Hotels, who sat in seat 1B. She was definitely nervous, her eyes darting around the cabin, not remaining on any one spot for more than a few seconds. Paul examined her vital signs again and saw that they were elevated but absolutely normal for someone about to accelerate from a dead stop to over twenty-four thousand miles per hour, leave the bounds of Earth's gravity for the first time in their life, travel nearly a quarter million miles through deadly vacuum to orbit the Moon, and then travel back to land here in the desert. No, this wasn't to be a normal day in the boardroom of a luxury-hotel chain.

Paul rolled his eyes when he looked at Sharik Mbanta in seat 2A. Mbanta was staring to his left, across the aisle, directly at Singer. The man who tried to bed every woman on the training staff apparently wasn't thinking about going to the Moon. To Paul, he looked like he was thinking about how he could join the "More Than A Mile High" Club with Ms. Singer. Aloud, Gesling muttered, "I can't believe this guy." But his vital signs were also normal, and Paul really had no firm basis for ejecting him from the flight-other than extreme dislike.

Bridget Wells in seat 2B looked as cool as she had in all phases of the training that led up to this moment. She was blond with only a little gray, in her mid-fifties, and in excellent physical condition. A mother of two from Marshalltown, Iowa, she looked like just about every other soccer mom one might expect to run into at the supermarket. By looking at her, one would think there was no way she could come up with the money to pay for a trip to the Moon, but Paul did know and understand why she had so eagerly paid millions to have a seat on Dreamscape Dreamscape. She was a believer.

During training, Bridget had told Gesling her story. She was born a couple of years before Neil Armstrong walked on the Moon and had no memory of watching it happen-she was too young. When Bridget was about twelve, she discovered science fiction and became hooked. She read all the cla.s.sic science fiction writers, including Robert Heinlein, Arthur C. Clarke, and Isaac Asimov. She didn't have a math apt.i.tude, so she didn't go down an engineering path for a career in the s.p.a.ce business. But she never lost her interest. She had written more than eight screenplays for science fiction movies that had turned out to be blockbusters. It was from these movies that she had earned her millionaire status. Early in her training she told Paul of watching the NASA TV channel for hours at a time, wis.h.i.+ng that she were the one in s.p.a.ce. Dreamscape Dreamscape gave her the chance to live her dream and aboard her she sat, grinning like a kid in a candy store, ready to go to the Moon. All her vital signs were normal, and Paul was hoping that she, more than all the others, would have the trip of a lifetime. gave her the chance to live her dream and aboard her she sat, grinning like a kid in a candy store, ready to go to the Moon. All her vital signs were normal, and Paul was hoping that she, more than all the others, would have the trip of a lifetime.

Finally, there was Dr. John Graves. Graves, too, was in his mid-fifties, but he was not nearly as trim and fit as Bridget, nor, for that matter, as any other pa.s.senger. In fact, he almost didn't get to fly due to his weight. If he hadn't lost the required forty pounds, someone else would be sitting here rather than him. Even so, no one would say he looked "fit and trim." Graves was an engineer and vice president at a major computer company, and, like Bridget Wells, he was a believer. The big difference between him and Ms. Wells, other than his s.e.x and overall physical condition, was his att.i.tude. Graves treated the flight as something he deserved. Though he was never quite rude, Gesling knew that in Graves's eyes he was merely the bus driver. Graves sat stiffly in his chair, his body rigid and his head unmoving as if afraid the Dreamscape Dreamscape would suddenly take off with acceleration sufficient to rip it off his shoulders. His vital signs were elevated, but still within the bounds of what the flight computer considered normal for a pa.s.senger at this point of the trip. would suddenly take off with acceleration sufficient to rip it off his shoulders. His vital signs were elevated, but still within the bounds of what the flight computer considered normal for a pa.s.senger at this point of the trip.

Gesling made note that the pa.s.senger a.s.sessments were complete and focused back on the prelaunch checklist and the status screens. He told his flight controller that Dreamscape Dreamscape was ready for takeoff. was ready for takeoff.

The United States Federal Aviation Administration had long-since cleared the sky for miles around the Nevada s.p.a.ceport. Otherwise, there would have been the inevitable stray airplane or errant news reporter wanting to cover the Dreamscape Dreamscape's flight from too close to the launch site.

Thousands of spectators were present, filling the highways around the s.p.a.ceport. Reminiscent of the earliest of the rocket flights of the 1960s, the mood among those gathered to watch the launch was akin to that of groupies at a rock concert or hard-core partiers. And party they did. This was a big day for anyone who ever thought they might want to go into s.p.a.ce. Dreamscape Dreamscape was about to take five everyday people (aside from the fact that they were rich enough to pay for the flight) to the Moon. For many, this was the unfulfilled promise of Apollo and NASA, and it was about to happen for real. was about to take five everyday people (aside from the fact that they were rich enough to pay for the flight) to the Moon. For many, this was the unfulfilled promise of 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 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." 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 Dreamscape. All systems are go for launch."

In addition to the s.p.a.ce enthusiasts, the Honda minivan was back, antenna deployed, positioned to monitor the Dreamscape 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 s.p.a.ce. Watching 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 s.p.a.ce. Watching Dreamscape Dreamscape start to roll down the runway was just as exciting for them as it was for all those at or near the s.p.a.ceport. They just wanted to make sure that there was enough data captured for their countrymen to someday duplicate the feat. start to roll down the runway was just as exciting for them as it was for all those at or near the s.p.a.ceport. 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 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 pa.s.sengers, Dreamscape 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 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 a.s.s and accelerating toward its top airspeed of Mach 12.

While Gesling was focused on the vehicle, the pa.s.sengers 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 pa.s.sengers felt the hard slap of the first stage separating. The scramjet first stage had done its job and propelled the Dreamscape 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. 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 pus.h.i.+ng everyone back sharply into their seats. The rocket continued accelerating the Dreamscape Dreamscape as it left the last remnants of Earth's atmosphere and entered interplanetary s.p.a.ce. as it left the last remnants of Earth's atmosphere and entered interplanetary s.p.a.ce.

The pa.s.sengers, 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 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 s.h.i.+p's computer, which in turn calculated Dreamscape Dreamscape's exact orbital position and orientation with respect to the Earth and s.p.a.ce.

"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 Dreamscape."

"Control, we're ready for OOB in forty-five."

"Roger that, Dreamscape Dreamscape. Clock shows...o...b..on schedule."

"Warning, prepare for orbital orientation burn." The b.i.t.c.hin' Betty's voice chimed throughout the little s.p.a.cecraft. "In three, two, one."

The thrusters fired, rolling and pitching the s.h.i.+p over to the upside-down-and-backward flight configuration. The s.h.i.+p jostled a bit and then settled down as the thrusters halted the s.h.i.+p in just the right position so that the occupants could get a really good view of the Earth from their side and overhead windows.

Only then did Gesling have time to check on his pa.s.sengers' physical status. He glanced to his side at the cabin view screen and pretty much saw what he expected. Thibodeau had opened his visor and was puking his guts out into the low-pressure barf bag attached to his seat. The low-airflow suction attached to the bottom of the bag kept the liquid from floating around the cabin as the system pulled it into the onboard sewage tank.

Maquita Singer and Sharik Mbanta were both green at the gills, and hearing Thibodeau lose his lunch was about to send them over the edge also. s.p.a.ce sickness was very common, and almost everyone going into s.p.a.ce experienced it. There was no good reason for one person to get sick and another not. It just happened. Gesling was pleased that Thibodeau was among those afflicted.

Bridget Wells and the stuffy Dr. Graves were unaffected. They glanced somewhat nervously at their stricken colleagues and then promptly looked back out the windows.

Gesling a.s.sessed the urgency of the situation and decided that it wasn't too bad. Their training had prepared them for s.p.a.ce sickness, and it appeared that they had paid attention to that lesson.

"Matt, Sharik, and Maquita, I would recommend you do your best to reset your inner ear with the exercise we trained on. If you need meds, let me know." Paul did his job. He looked at the five-sectioned monitor reporting on each of the crew members. Those who were sick began shaking their heads madly, to reset the balance system in their inner ears. Astronauts had learned that trick from watching cats fall out of trees-or at least that was the story Paul had heard. "We're going around the horn. If you can make it, I want a verbal and a thumbs-up."

"Matt?"

"Uhm, good, gulp, gulp," he groaned from around the barf bag and gave a thumbs-up.

"Maquita?"

"Good." She gave a thumbs-up and seemed to be locking her jaws to keep from being sick again.

"Sharik?"

"A-OK," he got out before having to cover with the barf bag again. He did manage a thumbs-up.

"Bridget?"

"A-OK, Paul." Paul smiled as she gave her thumbs-up. The woman was a trooper.

"John?"

"A-OK, Paul."

"Alright, good. Bridget, you can start bringing the telescope online at your leisure," Paul told the occupant of seat 2B. After all, running the telescope was her job.

"Roger that, Paul. Bringing the ISR package online." Paul could see the icon for the system turn from red to green and could tell that it was being handled.

A few hours later, Thibodeau was still recovering while Wells and Graves were busily eating a snack and looking at the really awesome imagery coming through the telescope system as well as looking out the windows. Singer and Mbanta were drinking and playing with their water. Without gravity, any spilled water formed nearly perfect spheres and floated like little planets around those who were attempting to drink. Any of the foods or liquids not captured by the crew would hopefully be filtered and captured with the air-handling system. Drops of water or foodstuff might prove a problem if they were to seep into some of the s.h.i.+p's critical circuitry, but the s.h.i.+p was designed with sealed components to prevent just that from happening.