AMERICA ONE (25 page)

“Total flight time, two hours, four minutes from takeoff,” added Jonesy. “Sounds like a fun ride. I’ve been straight up to 78,900 feet in an F-16, and look forward to beating that record. Ms. Sinclair, I think you have beaten me, correct?”

“Yes, Mr. Jones; 80,120 feet in an F-15 above California, and I was lucky to get it back to earth. I never really liked fighters after that and posted back to transport aircraft.”

Every day during the next week, the pilots trained for every eventuality for their first sub-space flight. It would be the only one. In Hangar Six
Silver Bullet I
was prepared for her next test. This one would be the most hazardous, with more re-entry stresses on her than a usual, faster re-entry. Every heat-resistant brick under her wings and fuselage was checked, and her fuel loads calculated time and time again. With the extended flight duration in the upper atmosphere, her burn rate with liquid hydrogen would be far higher and more constant, and the fuel load would need get her down to 100,000 feet before Jonesy could glide her in.

Launch from the C-5 was planned for ten minutes after dawn; fewer people watching a white streak head off into the upper atmosphere, the better. The two first-stage rockets were the most powerful non-releasing systems to date, and would spew white clouds into the atmosphere, which could be seen on earth for many miles.

The shuttle wouldn’t hamper other civilian aircraft, as 50,000 feet was far higher than any flew. In addition, by the time the shuttle exited the restricted flight zone around the airfield, she would be passing through 100,000 feet at well over 3,000 miles an hour.

Again, on approach, the shuttle returned to 50,000 feet inside the airfield’s 20-mile border, not causing any danger to high flying civilian aircraft.

Nobody slept well that night, except Jonesy, and at 3:00 a.m., with the last of the liquid hydrogen being pumped into the shuttle’s tanks from the storage Dewars outside, everybody readied for takeoff. The first-stage solid and liquid fuels had gone in earlier, and once the full-weighted shuttle was placed into the C-5, with the front loading nose door closed and sealed, Bob Mathews started the first engine and minutes later taxied to the eastern end of the runway, as he had done over a dozen times before. This time he programmed the cargo weight information into the aircraft’s computer, eighteen percent fuel load and then the outside temperature. The computers would do the rest for takeoff.

Inside the shuttle it was quiet and warm, the four occupants silent and ready. Bob turned the aircraft around, checked all gauges, completed his final procedures, and they were off. Jonesy, as usual closed his eyes, sat back in the pilot seat and listened to the four engines screaming outside. The noise was mostly muffled inside the shuttle as the nose went up and the aircraft around them headed skywards. The engines sounded sweet, and Bob and the computers were right on the button. The aircraft’s thrust was perfect and, as he felt the slight vibration of the undercarriage come up, Jonesy knew that the next time he would stand on terra firma, he would be closer to being called an astronaut.

The Astermine Co. team had watched all the video feed from the other two companies’ private flight missions completed over the last twenty-four months; both had achieved space flight. They weren’t going to win first to space; the British company had reached 350,000 feet for a few seconds, the other had actually resupplied the space station once, but with unmanned supply craft. The face of the pilot with the British company had been all smiles upon reaching earth again, and Jonesy hoped that he would feel the same four hours from now, having one orbit of earth under his belt.

All four were fully suited up in their new space suits, and they breathed from air tanks next to them. Although they could communicate with each other, nobody wanted to. They were all in their own worlds of life and death or flight preparation.

“Heading through 28,000 feet
,” stated Bob Mathews over the wireless intercom a little later.
“She is noticing the added load, but the near empty tanks are compensating, adding to her rapid accent rate. I’d hate to try this with full tanks on the shuttle and the Galaxy.”

“Don’t blow her rivets apart, Bob,” responded Jonesy. “We have already lost a couple. Bob, remind me to get them repaired by the shuttle team when we get back later today. Remember the soft climb approach. This is at a close to maximum load of shuttle with full fuel aboard the shuttle, but minus the four-ton cargo. I’m sure we can bleed off another few percent of fuel to equal out the cargo weight when that’s included, so monitor your fuel usage and see if we can get down to 15 percent fuel in the tanks.”

“Roger that,”
replied the C-5 pilot.
“Climbing through flight level 29.”

It took longer than before with the 100 tons of fuel aboard the shuttle. Jonesy knew that the most difficult part of the flight would be, the five seconds before the first stage rockets would ignite. The shuttle would fall fast, and all he had to do was to keep her nose up at 75 degrees until the rockets ignited behind him. He was really looking forward to feeling their force. He knew that an F-16 afterburner would feel like child’s play to these beauties.

“Leveling out for our descent, forty seconds to release,”
stated Bob as the passengers felt a little weightlessness take hold of their bodies.
“Going down, she’s heavy…46,000 feet….44…41…39, pulling out, engines to full thrust. Here we go guys, good luck…43…45…49……51!”

At 51,000 feet Jonesy activated the rocket igniters. They would need ten seconds before Maggie, the co-pilot, could push the actual igniters, which would cause an instantaneous explosion out of the rear of the shuttle.

“53,000 feet, 390 knots, release activated,”
stated Bob calmly five seconds later.

“Roger, release activation,” stated Jonesy as he watched the front of the cargo hold quickly retreat and sunlight filled the cockpit.

“53,250, 380 knots, good luck Jonesy, you are on your own, turning aircraft to port…now.”

Jonesy was busy trying to keep the shuttle on it’s upwards glide slope as the wings deployed. It felt like an eternity as he waited. He glanced up to see the C-5, it was gone from directly above them and the altimeter was starting to show descent.

“Ignition,” ordered the pilot and Maggie did as commanded. Wings extended, falling through 52,000. Rockets activated…………oh shit! That’s hard on the back!” was all he said as he looked forward as the craft began to accelerate. He noticed the C-5 off to his right about 300 yards away as they rocketed past it.

“Ascending through 58,000 feet, turning her over on her back, 580 knots…620 knots….700 knots…we are through the sound barrier at flight level 67 and climbing.”

As the speed increased, the controls became rock hard in Jonesy’s hands. There wasn’t much he could do now until the first stage expended itself. Like the NASA shuttle always flew, he had rolled the shuttle onto its back, the glide slope was a degree out, their direction two degrees out, and he managed to get her on course as the flight proceeded into new territory and the flight controls were taken away from him.

His back hurt, his face wanted to enter his brain and his breakfast wanted to park itself in his upper legs somewhere.

“You are good to go from here,”
stated a voice from ground control.
“Your corrections were spot on, your trajectory is perfect and we show you at 97,000 feet and 2,400 knots.”

“100,000 feet,” stated Jonesy a second later, “…flight level 112 at 3,800 knots. I hope these motors are never turbocharged. They already hurt like hell! Passing through 150,000 at 4,500 knots. Computer is now showing two speeds, knots and Mach speed as programmed….187,000 feet at Mach 9 or 7,000 knots.”

“Still perfect exit,”
stated ground.
“Weather clear and we still have cameras on you, and you look beautiful, as good as anything NASA ever produced. Your exhaust trails should be now out of sight of the naked eye.”

“Roger that. It’s getting dark up here; the sun looks beautiful, changing color, approaching second-stage activation. Flight level 230 at Mach 15.”

“Second-stage igniter ready,”
stated Maggie.

Suddenly at 243,000 feet above earth the first-stage lost power.

“Ignite,” ordered Jonesy and there was a second kick in the back, half as hard as the first, and the craft continued heading further into the upper atmosphere. The force in Jonesy’s back had now gone and he checked his information readouts; still climbing, going through 270,000 at Mach 16 under full power. “Two hundred ninety thousand feet…I’m pulling back on the hydrogen throttles, power to three-quarters….300,000 feet…and I’m getting control back. Computer is activating side thruster doors, using thrusters to bring us straight and level. I’ve turned flight controls over to autopilot, computer reducing power to one half, speed Mach 19, using thrusters to turn us upright. Speed Mach 19.5, altitude 300,000 feet, computer says we are flying straight and level.”

“Change heading 3.35 degrees to port, you are heading off course,”
stated ground control and Maggie dialed in the change to the computer.
“Over reaction, you are now heading one degree to starboard.”
Maggie again dialed in the information and the thrusters did their job, and slowly aligned the aircraft.
“From here, it looks like your speed needs to increase,”
suggested ground control.
“In three seconds we will lose direct communications and go to satellite feed. You are now over the Atlantic.”

“Roger that,” replied Jonesy. “Increasing power by 3 percent…… computer shows Mach 19.6….decreasing power by 1 percent.”

“Sixteen minutes to re-entry,”
stated ground control.
“You are over The Azores and half a second in front of your estimated time, I believe we have a 3 percent window in which to operate and you are still in the 1 percent bracket.”

“It is so beautiful up here,” stated Jonesy over the intercom, and for the first time Maggie looked out of the craft’s windshield down towards earth.

“The coast of France and Portugal,”
observed Maggie.
“The Alps already have snow, see the line?”

“I see,”
replied the others.

“Sierra Bravo I, deviation; 2 degrees off course,”
reported ground control.

“Roger that, ground control,”
replied Maggie, giving the computer the information.

“Sierra Bravo I, speed increasing, activate forward thruster for three seconds. Over.”

“Roger,” replied Jonesy. “Speed decreasing back to Mach 19.6. I see the Middle East coming up, and I’m sure we saw the silver glinting space station head over us from left to right.”

“Affirmative, that was the International Space Station,” replied ground control. “Your systems are completely tested, working perfectly. Sierra Bravo I, your computers are in complete control of your flight. Over.”

“Roger that,” replied Jonesy now confident his readouts were accurate. “Ten minutes to activate re-entry procedures.”

For the first time, he and Maggie had a break and with the shuttle flying perfectly, they could now look down as Asia began to cover the globe below them.

“
Sierra Bravo I
to ground control,” stated Jonesy several minutes later as the Pacific could just be seen as the earth rotated. “One minute to re-entry decent. We will be without communications for eleven minutes, beginning in four minutes from now.”

Ground acknowledged and the thrusters were activated on time to push the shuttle’s nose down for re-entry. Jonesy had to power up the rear liquid nitrogen thruster to actually increase his speed to descend, and once the correct speed was reached, he flared the nose up, and the team prepared for a hot re-entry. They were at a lower speed than if they were reentering from actual space, and they had to compensate.

“Speed at Mach 22.3 or 17,000 knots, nose coming up, descending through 290,000 feet, we are over the Chinese coast, thruster doors are closed. Hear from you guys in eleven min….”
and Jonesy’s voice disappeared from the airwaves in Ground Control in Nevada.

First, it was totally silent in the shuttle’s cockpit; then a sound and a buzzing noise could be heard through the floor of the craft. It got louder and louder and an orange glow began to be seen through the side portals. Maggie closed the outside portal doors and from then on, for 150 seconds, all Jonesy could do was monitor the computerized flight on instruments only. Both pilots monitored the computers, which were keeping the angle of the aircraft perfectly aligned for its flaming return to earth. There was no way he could manually fly the shuttle.

Their readouts slowed and came to a complete stop. The LED lights just froze and one by one went off. To the crew it seemed like an eternity and pictures of the NASA shuttle disintegrating a decade or so earlier went through Jonesy’s mind.

For ten long minutes nothing happened, except the noise got louder and louder. Nobody spoke. Then Jonesy’s ear detected a lesser roar from below his feet. His feet felt warm, warmer than usual, and slowly the roar dissipated.

Suddenly the altitude LED screen blinked on a few times and then showed 197,000 feet. Then the forward speed numbers lit up; 8,300 knots showed on the dial.

“Activate window doors,” Jonesy ordered Maggie, and daylight entered the craft again. “Computers show us 300 miles past Hawaii, and I believe within our 3 percent window.”

“Sierra Bravo I to ground, do you copy? Over.”
stated Maggie on the radio. There was silence, but several seconds later they were answered on her third try.

“Ground to Sierra Bravo I, we have you safe and sound. Computer readouts coming through, you are low, by 10,000 feet, change heading 4 degrees to starboard, your speed is within the 3 percent safety barrier. Over.”

“I will see if the computer can change her glide angle,” replied Jonesy. At this speed, any minute mistake could end the flight then and there. “Increasing glide slope 1 percent,” stated the pilot making the smallest changes possible. “Speed decreasing through 8,000 knots, it seems to be working as altitude decrease has dropped from 4,000 feet per minute to 3,200 feet per minute.”