Al Shepard spoke. “It needs to be Luke. Michael’s the Command Module pilot, and Chad, as mission commander, needs to be inside honchoing all the moving parts.”
Luke kept such a tight grip on his expression, Kaz couldn’t tell what he was thinking. If it had been him, he would have been equal parts daunted and thrilled.
Chad stared at Al, his jaw clenched. “I don’t like this. This is a third change of plan, and we’ve got less than four weeks until launch! We have no good way to simulate maneuvering so close to Almaz, and very little time to write and practice new procedures. This is a recipe to screw up before we even leave Earth orbit!”
Al nodded, his face serious. “You’re right. And you may fail to disable that Soviet spy ship no matter what you do. But the reality is that this sort of op is why we had a MOL program, and you three were chosen specifically as a military crew to carry out military tasking. These orders are coming from the Joint Chiefs and the White House.”
He looked at each man in turn. “This is now top priority. The least we’re going to come away with is clear, close-up pictures of this thing. And with a little luck, Luke will hurt Almaz badly enough that we can protect America’s secrets for a while yet.”
Gene added, “We have procedures for fast rendezvous with non-cooperative targets from multiple Gemini flights, and we did maneuvering and orbital spacewalk tests during Apollo 9. The simulation hardware is still stored onsite, so we can put together enough reality to do some training. It won’t be pretty, but I think we can be ready.”
Kaz thought he better point out a fundamental concern. “These photos we’re looking at here are top secret. We need the changes in training to be kept quiet, and a total media blackout during Almaz ops.”
Gene said, “Right, I’ll keep the team size to a minimum, and allow no TV coverage or visitors.” He thought further. “There’ll be people in Florida gathering to watch the launch, but I think it’s best to black out the whole flight after that, not just the Almaz maneuver. NASA PR and the Air Force rep can deflect questions for us, citing national security if they have to.”
Chad still looked like he’d eaten something sour. “We’ll do it. But when we get there, I’m gonna have Michael keep Pursuit at a safe distance until we figure out what’s actually possible. And if it turns out we can’t do it, everybody will just have to be happy with more pretty pictures to add to Kaz’s file.”
He was the first to stand as the meeting broke up, and Luke and Michael followed him out the door.
17
Ellington Field, Houston
Apollo 18 was L minus 18—18 days from launch. Time to move operations from Texas to Florida, and the astronauts were flying themselves there.
Chad, strapped to his ejection seat in a blue and white NASA T-38 jet, leaned to the left to catch the eye of his groundcrew chief, and raised his right hand high above the cockpit, spinning his finger. Michael and Luke, in their own jets, saw the motion and did the same.
The groundcrew had parked air blowers, called “huffers,” beside each of the three T-38s, and had connected the huffers’ long hoses to the jets through doors in the planes’ bellies. At the hand signal, they switched the huffers to max output, forcing air under high pressure into the T-38 engines, spinning the turbines like pinwheels. Once each engine got turning fast enough, the pilots brought their throttles to idle, letting jet fuel spray into the combustion chambers. Spark plugs flashed and the fuel/air mixture exploded into life, driving the turbines harder, sucking more air into the front intake of the motors. The groundcrew disconnected the huffers, and the engines wound up to working speed.
Kaz was in Chad’s back seat, taking advantage of the ride to the Cape, and watched as the instrument panel came to life. Dr. McKinley, as the crew flight surgeon, was with Luke, and Michael’s back seat carried an Air Force photographer—who already had his camera out, taking pictures of the start procedure.
Chad looked across at the other two pilots, and got a thumbs-up from each. He hit his mic: “Ellington Ground, this is NASA 18, flight of three, ready for taxi.” Luke and Michael flicked their mic buttons briefly, and Kaz heard the two quick chirps in his helmet, confirming everyone was on frequency.
“Good morning, NASA 18 flight, altimeter is 30.12, set squawk 1818, cleared taxi for 35 Left. Have a great spaceflight.”
“Copy 30.12, 35 Left, 1818 set. Will do, thanks.”
All three pilots reached both hands up and motioned outwards with their thumbs, signaling the crew chiefs to pull the chocks clear of the main wheels. Once safely beyond the wingtip, the crewmen stood at attention and saluted. The pilots saluted back, pushed the throttles up and taxied clear.