Astrotwins — Project Blastoff (10 page)

The ride was only ninety seconds long. Scott and Mark managed to keep their hands up, but everyone else had grabbed onto the car's railing at one time or another. Scott, like Egg, Howard, Barry, and Lisa, looked wobbly and a little green as he alighted. Mark was the only one with a big grin on his face. In fact, he would happily have done the ride again if only a line of people weren't waiting for his place.

Tommy took one look and said, “That clinches it.”

Scott said, “What does?”

“Mark already had the most points—thirty-six.
And he was the one who recognized my scheme to test your ability to roll with the unexpected. Now he's the only one of you that doesn't look nauseated.” Tommy shrugged. “With enough training, I think any of you would make a good astronaut. But if you want the best astronaut right now,
it's Mark Kelly.”

Just before six o'clock at the Great Adventure main gate, the group going home to Greenwood Lake—Grandpa, Lisa, Egg, and Howard—said their good-byes to those going back to West Orange.

Lisa pulled Scott aside. “Are you going to be all right?” she asked quietly.

Scott had thought he was doing a good job of hiding his disappointment, but the anxious expression on Lisa's face told him he'd failed at that, too.

“Yeah, sure,” he told her. “That spacecraft we're building looks pretty uncomfortable, actually. I mean, to keep weight down, we're not even going to pad the seat, right?”

Lisa giggled. “Okay, good. I wouldn't want to orbit Earth sitting on a rock either. See you soon. We still have
a lot of work to do.”

“Yeah, see you soon,” Scott said.

The drive back to West Orange wasn't long. On the way, Tommy took Barry, Scott, and Mark out for burgers. They got home at nine o'clock.

All evening, Scott tried hard to be a good sport, but in truth he felt crushed. Mark might like to tease him about being dropped on his head, but in fact they were about the same amount smart and the same amount strong. Mark knew this too—didn't he? Heck, most of the time their grades were even the same, meaning equally not-that-great.

But there were times when Scott felt like Mark always edged him out, just barely. And today it wasn't only Little League or a bike race, it was something important.

What he had said to Lisa was mostly to make her feel better. Scott didn't really care that the seat was hard or that the capsule was dinky or even that the astronaut might be in deadly danger. He had really wanted to be the first kid launched into orbit. And now he wouldn't be.

Back at home, Mark was so keyed up he couldn't stop talking about pinball, the Big Fury, bumper cars, losing Grandpa, and how Tommy had turned everything into a contest.

“So who won?” Dad asked.

“Me!” Mark said.

“Ah.” Mom looked at Scott. “I thought you were quieter than usual.”

“I'm fine,” Scott insisted.

Mom looked at Dad, and said, “Mmm-hmm.”

“I'm
fine
,” Scott repeated.

The family was in the living room—parents on the sofa, each boy sprawled in an easy chair.
The Mary Tyler Moore Show
was on the television with the sound turned down. Scott wished they were watching
I Dream of Jeannie
, which at least was about an astronaut, or
Gilligan's Island
, which was about people lost on a desert island. It was his favorite show and his favorite character was the Professor.

“Tommy said it wasn't really the points in the contest that mattered,” Mark explained. “It was more like he wanted to see how well we reacted to changing circumstances. And we all showed we could do it—be flexible and mentally tough, I mean.”

“Except Mark did it a little better than everybody else,” Scott couldn't help adding. “Plus he didn't look ready to throw up after the roller coaster.”

Mark shrugged. “Hey, what can I say? I'm a superior being.”

Mom shot Mark a look, and he said, “Only kidding,” but kept right on grinning.

“Sounds like Tommy put you through basic training, only without the backpacks and push-ups,” Mr. Kelly said.

“Did you know astronauts do survival training?”
Mark asked. “Tommy told us. They spend days in the jungle and the desert in case their spacecraft are forced to land far away from the target.”

“Why all this sudden interest in astronauts?” their mom asked.

“Yeah, Mark, why?” Scott asked, trying to look innocent.

That, at least made his perfect brother stammer. “Uh . . . Tommy mentioned it, uh . . . for no reason in particular, I guess. Because he's a pilot?”

If their parents noticed that Mark was flustered, they didn't say anything.
“Do you remember when you were little and wanted to be astronauts?” their mom asked. “You still can be, you know. I don't think a couple of Cs in fifth grade will count too much against you—provided you work harder in the future.”

Mark said, “I will, Mom.”

Scott didn't say anything.

The next morning, Mark opened his eyes and announced, “There's only a few weeks till school starts. I think we need to make a schedule or we won't get done in time for the science fair.”

Scott had been awake, staring at the ceiling, for several minutes by then. “Get what done?” he asked.

“Project Blastoff—what did you think?” Mark rolled over and looked at his brother.

“Oh, that,” Scott said.

“Look,” Mark said, “we always knew only one of us could go. If it was the other way around, I wouldn't mind. I'd be happy for you.”

Scott tilted his head to look at his brother. “Ha!”

“I would!” Mark said. “Anyway, I'd try. So you have to try too. Besides, it's not like you can quit or anything.”

“Who says I can't quit?” Scott asked. “What do I care if Egg gets a blue ribbon? Maybe the grown-ups are right and we'll make a mistake and blow something up. Maybe I think Project Blastoff is dumb. Maybe I think it'll never work.”

Neither twin said anything for a few moments; then Mark asked, “Do you think that?”

“Yes,” Scott said. “No. I don't know. I'm just mad, I guess. And disappointed. And life is unfair, and I wish I didn't have a brother, and I don't even like you, and I'm hungry.”

“Well, I don't like you either,” said Mark. “Do you want pancakes for breakfast? I'll make 'em.”

Scott wasn't sure how pancakes were supposed to make up for his not getting to go into space, but he knew that was what Mark meant by the offer.

“I think I'd rather not be poisoned, thank you.”

“Funny, very funny.” Mark climbed out of bed and started to get dressed. “Did you know vomit in space is even more disgusting than vomit on Earth? It floats around in blobs and you have to chase it and catch it because if it hits the wall or your spacesuit, it'll smear and get everywhere.”

“Thank you for telling me that before breakfast,” Scott said.

“You're welcome. Plus if you vomit with your space helmet on, you can drown in it. I mean, for real, drown
in your own vomit. I found out something about going to the bathroom if you stay in space a long time, too. Since there's no gravity, you have to attach a vacuum system to—”

“Ewww!” Scott said. “Can we change the subject?” Then he threw off his covers, climbed out of bed, and left the bedroom, heading for the bathroom. While in there, he silently thanked nature for providing gravity, which made so many things easier.

Luckily for Scott's digestion, Dad, who had the day off, was already in the kitchen mixing up batter when the two boys made their appearance.

“What have you got going on today?” Dad asked them.

“Is there a calendar around?” Mark answered the question with a question. “We need to make a schedule so we can get our project done.”

“My gosh, you guys
are
serious. Sure—there's a calendar on the desk in the den. You can get it after breakfast.” Dad served their plates.

Mom, who was off too, came in and sat down at the table. “Did somebody say schedule?” she asked. “I can fill in items one and two—weeding and mowing.”

The twins groaned because they knew they were
expected to groan, but really their mom's request made them both realize something important. If they were going to convince their parents to take them to Greenwood Lake a whole bunch of times in the next few months, they would have to be model members of the household.

No taking apart calculators or other valuable devices. No “forgetting” to walk Major Nelson. No leaving their bicycles in the driveway instead of the garage. No talking back. In fact, they would probably have to volunteer to do extra chores.

It was going to be horrible.

But if the launch from Greenwood Lake was successful, it would all be worth it.

If
the launch was successful?

Make that
when
the launch was successful!

Breakfast over, Mark and Scott both jumped up to clear the table and do the dishes.

“You just relax, Mom and Dad,” Mark said. “Did we mention those pancakes were delicious, by the way?”

“How about another cup of coffee?” Scott offered.

Dad raised his eyebrows and looked at Mom, who said, “They're up to something.”

Dad nodded. “That's for sure, but let's enjoy it while it lasts.”

Once the kitchen was clean, the boys settled down
to write their schedule. As they wrote, they realized that Howard, Lisa, and Egg were going to have to do a lot of the work without them. Meanwhile, as model citizens, the twins hoped they could convince Mom and Dad to let them stay at Grandpa's as much as possible.

The schedule took a while to complete, and when it was done it looked like this:

Week of Aug. 3, 1975: Add instruments to instrument panel; complete cockpit console, including wiring and communications equipment. Begin constructing heat shield.

Week of Aug. 10: Begin capsule construction; build periscope. Begin construction of launch site bunker and launch pad.

Week of Aug. 17: Integrate seat and instrument panel and console to capsule. Install flight computer. Connect all wiring. Install attitude controller, periscope, window, and communications antenna to outside of capsule.

Week of Aug. 24: Complete launch site bunker. Install parachutes and attitude control jets. Install heat shield.

Week of Aug. 31: Begin constructing launch vehicle (rocket), rocket engine, and fuel tank. Integrate environmental system including air and water tanks to capsule. Complete construction of launch pad.

Week of Sept. 7: Move construction operations to launch site. (School starts in West Milford.)

Week of Sept. 14: Integrate fuel tank and rocket engine to the launch vehicle. (School starts in West Orange.)

Week of Sept. 21: Integrate spacecraft to launch vehicle at the launch pad.

Weeks of Sept. 28–Oct. 19: Testing of spacecraft and rocket systems. Simulations of mission, including a full dry run of launch day and launch countdown.

Oct. 24: Raise rocket with capsule into the launch position on the pad. Fuel the rocket and pressurize the tanks.

Oct. 25: L-0. Also known as . . . Launch Day!

“Now all you have to do is recopy it to send to Egg,” Mark said.

“So while I'm wearing my fingers to the bone making this copy, what useful thing are
you
going to do?” Scott asked.

“Ride my bike,” Mark said, and when he saw his brother scowl, he added, “Maybe some push-ups. I've gotta get in shape if I'm gonna be an astronaut. All those guys are really strong.”

“How about if you get in shape by mowing the lawn?” Scott said. “I'll be out there in the hot sun to help just as soon as I finish working on this. Don't be surprised if it takes me a long time to finish up with it, though.”

An engineer named Max Faget designed the original Mercury space capsule for NASA. It had to withstand being launched on top of a rocket, orbiting Earth, and falling back through the atmosphere while also protecting anything and anyone inside. The capsule looked like an upside-down wooden top, more stubby than streamlined because it would experience air resistance only briefly during its flight.

The capsule's squat shape had another advantage as well. It would create drag to help slow the capsule down during descent.

Over the course of the next six weeks, Mark and Scott not only learned from Lisa how to weld the exterior surfaces of the spacecraft, they also learned from Grandpa how to use a shear to cut and roll sheet metal,
how to plumb the pressurized environmental systems, and how to wire the electrical instruments in the cockpit.

The kids' plans were based on drawings found in books in the library, some of them surprisingly detailed, complete with dimensions and specifications for materials. The kids didn't have access to the shiny new components that NASA used and had to make do with what they had on hand at Grandpa's workshop and with what Nando could get from the wrecking yard.

For that reason, they did a lot of hammering and bending to force items to fit together. The big rubber mallet Grandpa Joe kept in his workshop came in very handy. So did the scuba tanks Grandpa had salvaged from a dive shop going out of business. The tanks would provide the air for the capsule.

Among the most important components of the spacecraft was the heat shield that covered the blunt end of the capsule. If it didn't work, the capsule would burn up on re-entry.

But how to make one?

It was Egg—who could engineer a blueberry pie—who had the idea of taking fireproof insulation from an old building, shaping it into bricks, and covering the bricks with duct tape. Grandpa got a sheet of fiberglass from a swimming pool company, and the kids affixed the bricks three deep to that sheet. For the innermost layer, they used a badly scratched oak tabletop Grandpa
had purchased at a flea market years before.