"Understood. So far, the only people who know about the breach are us, the FBI, and, of course, the Chinese."

With that, Childers looked up from his desk and, with his head slightly tilted, gave Watson what he thought of as an "evil eye." Without saying another word, he let the engineer know that now wasn't the time and he didn't want to discuss it any further. Watson slunk from his office, leaving Childers alone with his paperwork.

Five thousand miles away, in Beijing, China, a room of highly decorated military leaders sat in a room watching news coverage of the pending launch of the Altair from the surface of the Moon using flat-screen monitors nearly identical to those being used in Texas-made by a Chinese manufacturer, of course. In fact, it was the same Chinese manufacturer as the one that made the monitors at the Johnson s.p.a.ce Center.

The senior official in the room, to whom all others present expressed extreme deference, watched the screen without reaction. He turned to the man on his left and spoke so that all could hear.

"The president is anxious to see us launch on schedule. Are your people going to be ready? He is not happy that the Americans may beat us to the Moon, and I am not optimistic after reviewing the latest test reports."

"Yes, sir." General Xiang Li, the chief designer of China's lunar program, nodded. Xiang, an MIT-educated engineer with multiple technical degrees, was responsible for China's impressive buildup toward their own lunar mission. It seemed to him that his entire life was a movie script, with him playing the role of the great hero, destined to lead his country to the Moon. And by placing a Chinese flag there he could show the world that China had a place on the world stage as a great power. And-that the Moon was theirs theirs.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, sir. We will be ready for launch as scheduled. I've personally reviewed the test reports, and the engineering team has a plan to fix the problem with the landing system. When our taikonauts are ready to land on the Moon, they will have a one hundred percent functional system to do so." Though his words were bold, his heart was not in what he was saying. The test reports were actually not good, and there was not a consensus that the planned technological fix would even work. But the schedule had to be kept, lest Xiang lose his reputation and his job and, likely, his life.

"Very well," was the simple reply from his boss, who then turned his head and focused intently on the television screen as the countdown clock resumed counting down from twenty minutes. As that clock ticked, the American test flight would be in its final phase, leaving them nothing to do except the real mission with a crew. And all in the room knew that China had to get there first.

The resumption of the countdown clock was met in mission control with muted approval. The time for celebration would be after a successful liftoff, not before. Not one second before.

Unlike the conference room, mission control was filled with engineers who monitored their data not simply because they could, but because they had to. The success of the robotic dress rehearsal depended upon them and their ability to think on their feet. The system was designed to be mostly autonomous, but everyone knew that if something were to go wrong, it would be quick-thinking people who would make the difference. And they could not forget that there was about a second-and-a-half delay between the Earth and the Moon due to the speed of light and data-relay loops, so they had to be extra careful, cautious, and expedient.

Menendez, Chow, and Leonard stood near the back wall, not wanting to get in anyone's way. After all, they were last-minute observers and not part of the team currently on s.h.i.+ft.

Stetson was sitting on console just behind and to the left of the Green Team flight director. Stetson was flight director when Blue Team was on s.h.i.+ft. This time the Green Team was on console and Stetson was in the room as an observer. Not being in the flight director's chair was tough on Stetson, but he knew he couldn't be in it twenty-four hours a day nor for every critical mission event. This was a team team effort. But it was still tough for him to not be in charge. effort. But it was still tough for him to not be in charge.

The Green Team flight director spoke up at T-minus fifteen minutes.

"Okay, folks. We're fifteen minutes away from getting this bird off the surface and back into s.p.a.ce. The last time we did this was 1972-before some of you were born. Let's show Commander Stetson and his team that we know how to give them a good ride, because the next time it'll be them them on the screen, sweating real sweat and looking to us to get them home." With that, the entirety of the room looked at Stetson, Chow, Leonard, and Menendez along the back wall. He concluded, "Now, d.a.m.n. Let's fly this thing!" on the screen, sweating real sweat and looking to us to get them home." With that, the entirety of the room looked at Stetson, Chow, Leonard, and Menendez along the back wall. He concluded, "Now, d.a.m.n. Let's fly this thing!"

Stetson couldn't help but grin at his team. Chow and Leonard accepted the attention by smiling, but Menendez only nodded curtly.

The countdown was flawless. As the clock reached zero, the camera inside the Altair began to shake-slowly at first, and then with greater intensity. The external cameras also started to move, but with much less apparent jitter than their interior counterparts due to the stiffness of their mounting hardware.

Slowly, the lunar surface began to move away from the rising ascent stage. The base of the lander was now clearly visible on the view screen, battered but basically as good as the day it was manufactured. A few pieces of insulation were torn open and blasted by the rocket exhaust, but otherwise there was no obvious damage being caused by the ascent stage as it rose into the perpetually dark lunar sky. The lifeless and gray lunar surface began to dominate the camera's view as the Altair gained alt.i.tude and its shadow began to move laterally across the surface, diminis.h.i.+ng in size.

Instead of the cheering that many might expect to hear with a successful liftoff, the team in mission control was dead silent, holding their collective breath. As it became apparent that the vehicle was not going to be stranded on the surface, nor was it about to crash, people began to breathe again-and a few did begin to clap their hands.

When the stage reached an alt.i.tude of ten miles, all of the screens abruptly went blank and numerous red lights simultaneously appeared at the workstations throughout the room.

"Holy...!" the Green Team's flight director heard. "We've lost all telemetry."

"Ditto that, no signal at all-not even the carrier." Another confirmation that something had gone dreadfully wrong came from a worried engineer monitoring the health of the communications system.

Seemingly instinctively, but actually resulting from years of training and simulation, the Green Team went to work trying to figure out what was going on. With no data coming from the Altair during ascent, there was no way of knowing if the vehicle had exploded, gone off course, or was performing as it was supposed to.

Stetson's mind raced, running through what he would do if he were in the flight director's chair at this moment. But he wasn't, and there was no way he was going to do anything other than speak if spoken to. Green Team was good, and they were doing everything they could to regain contact with the Altair. His mind was racing nonetheless.

From Houston to Lexington to Beijing, all ears were listening to the voice of NASA's mission control as the obviously fl.u.s.tered commentator tried to fill the otherwise dead air with calming words and speculation about what was actually happening to the Altair-two hundred and fifty thousand miles away. No one in mission control had the time or inclination to provide the commentator with up-to-the-minute information, so he had to wing it. All things considered, he was doing an adequate job. After all, the Green Team in mission control didn't know what was going on, either.

"Bill." Looking at the harried Green Team doing its job with extreme professionalism, Helen Menendez leaned forward and spoke to Stetson quietly at first. Then a little louder. "Bill, the Altair is on autopilot, and if it is working correctly, we should see it on the Orion's exterior cameras any minute now." She spoke loud enough to be heard by Bill Stetson, Charles Leonard, and Anthony Chow, but not loud enough to be heard by anyone else. She was as sensitive as Stetson regarding their role as observers and observers only.

"Roger that." Stetson nodded in affirmation. "That's what I'm counting on." As he spoke, his gaze s.h.i.+fted to the second screen from the right on the front wall. On the screen, which held his gaze, was the view through the Orion's window of the lunar surface pa.s.sing peacefully beneath the vehicle. If one could focus on the nose of the capsule and not be distracted by the sight of the lunar surface scrolling by below or the majesty of the myriad stars visible directly through the upper part of the frame, the docking ring that would attach the Orion to the Altair would be clearly visible. It was to there that the Altair was programmed to return-if it was still in one piece.

"There!" Seemingly on cue, a voice called out from somewhere in the room. "I see her! We've got a visual of the Altair from Orion!" Now all eyes in the room focused on the image from the orbiting Orion. There, in the distance, was a tiny glint. A spot of light only a few pixels in size on the monitor. But it was there, and it was growing larger. A few seconds more and the spot grew into more of a small disc as the Green Team watched breathlessly. After a few minutes it became apparent to all that the spot of light was, in fact, the incommunicado Altair, performing its automated rendezvous maneuver as it was designed and programmed to do.

"Hot d.a.m.n!" Bill couldn't contain himself any longer.

"I'll second that" was all the Green Team's flight controller could manage as he and the rest of the team began to prepare for the lunar-orbit rendezvous of the Altair and the Orion. Pictures and telemetry were coming from the Orion just as they should. The Altair remained totally silent.

Weeks later, after hundreds of engineers had a chance to review data from the voyage, it would be discovered that telemetry was likely lost due to a poorly potted connector in the primary communication system, stopping communication with the Earth but not stopping the flow of engineering, position, and velocity data between it and the Orion. The important data, that which was required to complete the rendezvous, was never disrupted. The backup communications system didn't activate, because the primary system's fault-detection software never detected the problem-after all, the Altair and the Orion never lost communication. Only the dirt-bound humans in mission control were cut off. The software routines never deviated; they a.s.sumed all was well with the data transmission and that nothing more needed to be done. Shortly thereafter, a bright console engineer would realize that he could have simply relayed the data from the Altair through the Orion feeds and then to mission control. Instead of getting egg on his face and making a big thing of it, he wrote an e-mail about it to the fault-response team that was duly noted and stored away.

Despite the success of the mission, that type of fault was one of the worst kind-two separate and distinct failures in the same system had caused a failure of the primary and backup communications systems. Fortunately, the double failure happened in a rather benign system and didn't imperil the mission. Had the failure resulted in a loss of communications between the Altair and the Orion, then a successful rendezvous would have most likely been impossible. That is, since there were no humans aboard either s.p.a.cecraft. Bill's craw got all tied up in knots every single time he thought about it. Every system, step, procedure, and control had been automated to the point that pilots could do very little during the test program to show that the mission could still succeed even if one or more of the automated systems failed. He kept to himself the thought that decades of flying in low Earth orbit and only sending out robotic probes had sucked the adventure out of his colleagues.

"d.a.m.n it all to h.e.l.l," he muttered to himself. "This could have halted us by a couple of years."

Chapter 10.

Barely six weeks later, glimmering in the unrelenting Nevada sun, sat the Dreamscape, Dreamscape, engines running with a loud rocket noise right out of a science fiction movie. It was just barely audible to those in the observation stands. The reusable s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p was poised to make history, just waiting for the pilot to begin its maiden journey to Earth orbit. The unmistakable power of the vehicle was obvious to all onlookers as crisscrossing lines of exhaust poured from the thruster nozzles. But the restrained explosive beast was kept in check by its human masters. engines running with a loud rocket noise right out of a science fiction movie. It was just barely audible to those in the observation stands. The reusable s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p was poised to make history, just waiting for the pilot to begin its maiden journey to Earth orbit. The unmistakable power of the vehicle was obvious to all onlookers as crisscrossing lines of exhaust poured from the thruster nozzles. But the restrained explosive beast was kept in check by its human masters.

To the pilot, Captain Paul Gesling, the moment was anything but serene. Despite the air conditioner in his pressure suit running at maximum, Paul was sweating profusely-he barely noticed the cold air or the sweat. Instead, he cursed happily.

"Hot d.a.m.n!" he shouted over the s.p.a.cecraft's interior noise. He was elated to be in the pilot's seat, even if it was just a test. He eyed the various status touch screens displayed on the iPhone-like LCD display that had replaced the old-fas.h.i.+oned gauges and dials of s.p.a.cecraft and aircraft from previous generations. Then one of the icons turned from green to yellow and then to red. He uttered another stream of epithets. "d.a.m.n! d.a.m.n! d.a.m.n! h.e.l.l!"

"Warning, ACS fuel pressure approaching critically low level," the onboard computer voice, aka "b.i.t.c.hin' Betty," announced over the s.h.i.+p's internal communications system.

"Control, what's up with the helium repress?" Gesling said not quite calmly into his microphone. Hoping for a positive answer from the lead engineer in the control room barely one mile away, he reset that status display and pressed the att.i.tude control system status icon one more time, hoping that the low pressure reading would go away, clearing Dreamscape Dreamscape for its first orbital flight. The gauge showed that the pressure in the fuel tank that fed the s.h.i.+p's att.i.tude control system was low. That was a critical function. It contained the subsystem that would allow the for its first orbital flight. The gauge showed that the pressure in the fuel tank that fed the s.h.i.+p's att.i.tude control system was low. That was a critical function. It contained the subsystem that would allow the Dreamscape Dreamscape to remain in a stable orientation while in s.p.a.ce-in other words, keeping it from spinning in random directions. There would be no flight unless the problem was resolved. The spin could induce too much of a g-load on the structure and tear the s.h.i.+p apart. Of course, that would be after the crew had either vomited themselves into oblivion or pa.s.sed out. to remain in a stable orientation while in s.p.a.ce-in other words, keeping it from spinning in random directions. There would be no flight unless the problem was resolved. The spin could induce too much of a g-load on the structure and tear the s.h.i.+p apart. Of course, that would be after the crew had either vomited themselves into oblivion or pa.s.sed out.

"Hold on, Paul, we're looking into it," was the reply from the engineer in the s.p.a.ce Excursions control room.

"Warning, ACS system failure imminent."

"Well, check it faster!" Paul replied.

Unlike their NASA counterparts, s.p.a.ce Excursions had no big control room full of specialized engineers. Instead, their mission control consisted of five people, each cross-trained in multiple engineering disciplines. At this time, all five were working frantically at their computer stations, looking at their status screens and a large replica of Paul Gesling's screen prominently displayed on the wall at the front of the room. They saw what Gesling saw in addition to the next level of detail, available at the touch of a b.u.t.ton. Having only five people running the mission saved the company a lot of money. And the automated systems now monitoring the health of the vehicle, though costing the company a load of cash to develop, were working flawlessly, reporting the status of every major and minor system to mission control. Any significant issues that could affect the flight were flagged and brought to the attention of the people who controlled it.

"I'm still waiting." Gesling tapped the red icon on his screen again.

"Warning, ACS system is offline."

"Oh, shut the h.e.l.l up," he shouted to b.i.t.c.hin' Betty.

It seemed to him that an intolerable length of time had pa.s.sed, but to the flight controller, and to any external observers not impatient for a launch, barely three minutes had gone by. Paul chewed at the inside of his mouth, certain that he would have to wait a bit longer, quite a bit longer, before Dreamscape Dreamscape would make its full-scale test flight to s.p.a.ce and back. would make its full-scale test flight to s.p.a.ce and back.

"d.a.m.n."

"We have a technical problem with one of Dreamscape Dreamscape's systems that I am sure will be resolved momentarily," Gary Childers said to the VIP guests in the room with him. He scanned the readouts of the test from an observation room just outside his personally funded, high-tech, and oh-so-expensive mission-control room. Not that he understood all the data-Childers was a businessman. What he understood was that delays cost him money.

Childers was clearly impatient, yet at the same time he remained firmly in charge. In his mind, VIP stood for "valuable investment people." Childers had invited several potential investors to attend the test flight, with full expectation they would be so impressed with his operation that they would commit to helping him fund his next entrepreneurial s.p.a.ce endeavor-a charter cruise to the surface of the Moon. Once Dreamscape Dreamscape was making routine flights was making routine flights around around the Moon, Childers's marketing surveys indicated that many of the world's ultrarich would be willing to put up at least one hundred million dollars each to actually walk on the Moon. And he was ready to offer the service. the Moon, Childers's marketing surveys indicated that many of the world's ultrarich would be willing to put up at least one hundred million dollars each to actually walk on the Moon. And he was ready to offer the service.

Despite his sizable wealth, even Gary Childers didn't have the money required to finance the construction of a s.p.a.cecraft that could take people to the Moon and back. After all, the same mission was costing NASA billions billions of dollars. He had invited ten of his most promising investors to the test launch; seven accepted. And now he was in the position of having to explain to them what was going on and why the launch had already been delayed two hours. of dollars. He had invited ten of his most promising investors to the test launch; seven accepted. And now he was in the position of having to explain to them what was going on and why the launch had already been delayed two hours.

"Folks," he began, nodding and smiling, "we're experiencing some problems with one of the Dreamscape Dreamscape's many systems, and my team is telling me that the launch will at best be delayed another hour or so.

"I'm needed in the control room for a few minutes. Ms. O'Conner will take care of you until my return," he said as he motioned for Caroline O'Conner to join him. As he moved toward the door, he lowered his head and softly said to O'Conner in pa.s.sing, "I just hope it isn't longer than that."

"The wolves look hungry," she whispered back to him. Gary only raised an eyebrow at the comment and hurried to the main control room. The real real control room. control room.

Childers entered the room just as Gesling's voice once again came over the loudspeaker. "Control, the pressure is starting to drop again. We need to scrub. This whole thing is going the wrong way."

Not uttering a word, uncharacteristic of Childers in a business meeting, seemed entirely appropriate as he waited to hear the response from the experts, his experts, hired at considerable expense to make this whole venture happen.

"Paul, we concur. Prepare to save onboard systems and stand down" was the only reply from the engineer responsible for the test flight.

"d.a.m.n!" This time it was Gary doing the cursing. "s.h.i.+t!" He promptly turned on his heels and began walking back to the VIP room. Now he had to explain this mess to his potential investors and hope that they would be willing and able to hang around until the problem was resolved and the Dreamscape Dreamscape could take flight. Childers was too smart to ever try to overturn a technical decision from his team. They were the experts; he paid them to make technical decisions, and he trusted them completely. That didn't mean, however, that he was happy with them or the situation. could take flight. Childers was too smart to ever try to overturn a technical decision from his team. They were the experts; he paid them to make technical decisions, and he trusted them completely. That didn't mean, however, that he was happy with them or the situation.

But when he had started out on this venture, he had hired a company to complete an extremely detailed a.n.a.lysis of the s.p.a.ce industry and why NASA was not economically viable. The s.p.a.ce shuttle program had been designed to offer cheap access to s.p.a.ce but turned out to be a money pit. The a.n.a.lysis showed that when NASA managers started putting pressure on the program to fly more missions to improve the cost efficiency of the shuttles, that was when the major accidents had occurred. Gary hadn't paid heavy for the a.n.a.lysis just to ignore it. That was their job. He'd just have to find a way to make the day's lemons into lemonade. That That was was his his job. job.

Aboard Dreamscape, Dreamscape, Paul Gesling began the ground abort procedures with the skill of a trained pilot, always glancing at the checklist of required tasks and procedures as it scrolled across the LCD screen, checking each item off as required. In the back of his mind, he was frustrated. But he was a professional, and professional pilots knew that procedures saved their lives-taking out his frustration would have to come later. He was thinking about a bottle of scotch and a punching bag. Paul Gesling began the ground abort procedures with the skill of a trained pilot, always glancing at the checklist of required tasks and procedures as it scrolled across the LCD screen, checking each item off as required. In the back of his mind, he was frustrated. But he was a professional, and professional pilots knew that procedures saved their lives-taking out his frustration would have to come later. He was thinking about a bottle of scotch and a punching bag.

The press was having a field day. Soon after Childers returned to take charge of his guests, Caroline O'Conner had the unpleasant task of going to the press observation room and telling the a.s.sembled reporters that today's flight would not happen. She didn't yet know when it would happen, and she didn't exactly understand the reason for the delay, but she knew enough to provide the media with the immediate facts.

O'Conner took up her position behind the podium and microphone at the front of the room and said, "May I have your attention, please?

"Today's maiden orbital flight of the Dreamscape Dreamscape has been scrubbed due to a pressure leak in one of the s.h.i.+p's propulsion systems. Our experts are looking into the problem, and we will let you know soon when the next attempt will take place." O'Conner, as usual, sounded knowledgeable and self-confident as she made the announcement. has been scrubbed due to a pressure leak in one of the s.h.i.+p's propulsion systems. Our experts are looking into the problem, and we will let you know soon when the next attempt will take place." O'Conner, as usual, sounded knowledgeable and self-confident as she made the announcement.

"Ms. O'Conner, Ms. O'Conner!" shouted the reporter from s.p.a.ce News, s.p.a.ce News, the major online news outlet covering all things s.p.a.ce. "How will this affect your schedule? Your schedule shows that you'll be taking paying customers around the Moon in just a couple of months. Do you expect to keep the schedule?" the major online news outlet covering all things s.p.a.ce. "How will this affect your schedule? Your schedule shows that you'll be taking paying customers around the Moon in just a couple of months. Do you expect to keep the schedule?"

"At this time, we don't know. The engineers tell me that the problem should be easily fixed, but I can't say how the delay will impact our first commercial launch," she said in response.

"Ms. O'Conner!" shouted another reporter.

And so it continues, thought Caroline to herself before pointing to the next anxious reporter. thought Caroline to herself before pointing to the next anxious reporter. They really do seem like a pack of wolves circling the injured animal, waiting for the feast.... They really do seem like a pack of wolves circling the injured animal, waiting for the feast....

Chapter 11.

"Go, baby, go!" was all Gesling could utter as he alternated looking out the window at the landscape of Earth receding below him and the LCD display that showed the status of Dreamscape Dreamscape's...o...b..ard systems. After fixing the faulty sensor on the fuel tank two days previously, the restarted countdown for the launch of Dreamscape Dreamscape had gone flawlessly. Now Gesling was nearing the point at which the scramjet first stage would separate from the vehicle and the powerful onboard rocket engines would fire, giving him the final acceleration needed to attain the seventeen thousand miles per hour required for orbit. Escape velocity was just one stage away. had gone flawlessly. Now Gesling was nearing the point at which the scramjet first stage would separate from the vehicle and the powerful onboard rocket engines would fire, giving him the final acceleration needed to attain the seventeen thousand miles per hour required for orbit. Escape velocity was just one stage away.

He felt his pulse quicken in antic.i.p.ation of the stage separation, and he waited for the five small explosions that would soon sever the bolts holding the two parts of Dreamscape Dreamscape together. The explosive bolts had to fire within milliseconds of each other or the resulting unequal forces acting on the vehicle would tear it apart. Gesling knew the bolts had been tested, retested, and tested again, but that didn't stop him from being anxious and replaying the catastrophic-failure simulation movies in his mind as the clock on the display counted down to zero. together. The explosive bolts had to fire within milliseconds of each other or the resulting unequal forces acting on the vehicle would tear it apart. Gesling knew the bolts had been tested, retested, and tested again, but that didn't stop him from being anxious and replaying the catastrophic-failure simulation movies in his mind as the clock on the display counted down to zero.

"Just fly the plane," he told himself. The foremost thing all pilots trained themselves to do was to learn to fly the plane no matter what the instruments were saying or whatever else was going on around them. Fly the plane. Fly the plane. He gripped the controls and swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing it back into his stomach. The stage-separation icon flashed, and the b.i.t.c.hin' Betty chimed at him. He gripped the controls and swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing it back into his stomach. The stage-separation icon flashed, and the b.i.t.c.hin' Betty chimed at him.

"Prepare for stage separation in ten seconds. Nine, eight, seven..."

He felt only a small b.u.mp, and then the green light indicating successful stage separation glimmered before him. Seconds later, the Dreamscape Dreamscape's rocket engines ignited, pus.h.i.+ng Gesling back into his padded chair on the flight deck. The Dreamscape Dreamscape picked up speed. picked up speed.

The first stage, now fully separated from the rocket-powered Dreamscape, Dreamscape, began its glide back to the Nevada desert. Operated by onboard automatic pilot and with constant monitoring by engineers in the s.p.a.ce Excursions control room back at the launch site, the first stage was on target for a landing back at the location from which its voyage had begun. Onboard computers were sending a steady stream of telemetry back to the ground so the flight engineers could reconstruct all phases of its flight should the worst happen and the vehicle crash. Although the s.h.i.+p had black boxes on board, they were a redundant system at this stage. All operational data was immediately sent to the ground as long as the began its glide back to the Nevada desert. Operated by onboard automatic pilot and with constant monitoring by engineers in the s.p.a.ce Excursions control room back at the launch site, the first stage was on target for a landing back at the location from which its voyage had begun. Onboard computers were sending a steady stream of telemetry back to the ground so the flight engineers could reconstruct all phases of its flight should the worst happen and the vehicle crash. Although the s.h.i.+p had black boxes on board, they were a redundant system at this stage. All operational data was immediately sent to the ground as long as the Dreamscape Dreamscape could get a communications link to a ground station or one of the orbital relay satellites that Childers owned time on. But once they were on the way to the Moon, the data rate would drop to the point that the black boxes would be the main system for flight-data storage and retrieval. could get a communications link to a ground station or one of the orbital relay satellites that Childers owned time on. But once they were on the way to the Moon, the data rate would drop to the point that the black boxes would be the main system for flight-data storage and retrieval.

On the ground, the s.p.a.ce Excursions computer was busy receiving, interpreting, and storing the data while Gary Childers was excitedly explaining each element of the flight, as it was happening, to his potential future investors-all of whom had decided to wait the extra two days it took to recover from the aborted launch and to this successful one. It was turning out to be worth their while.

"As you can see, the Dreamscape Dreamscape is now under rocket power and accelerating as it approaches its three hundred kilometer orbital alt.i.tude. Once there, pilot Paul Gesling will shake her down during a minimum of ten orbits before he will rendezvous with our tanker satellite and test the refueling system," Childers explained. Feeling more confident by the minute that his investors were becoming interested, he continued, "After that test, Gesling will begin the reentry process and bring the s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p back home-landing only a few meters away from where it began its journey. Just future orbiting rides like this we can sell at ten to twenty million a pop and use them as training rides for the Moon missions. We might even consider building a copy of the is now under rocket power and accelerating as it approaches its three hundred kilometer orbital alt.i.tude. Once there, pilot Paul Gesling will shake her down during a minimum of ten orbits before he will rendezvous with our tanker satellite and test the refueling system," Childers explained. Feeling more confident by the minute that his investors were becoming interested, he continued, "After that test, Gesling will begin the reentry process and bring the s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p back home-landing only a few meters away from where it began its journey. Just future orbiting rides like this we can sell at ten to twenty million a pop and use them as training rides for the Moon missions. We might even consider building a copy of the Dreamscape Dreamscape just for that purpose." just for that purpose."

Childers a.s.sessed the reactions of the seven multibillionaires in the room. They alternated between listening to his explanation and tuning him completely out as they surveyed the status board and the onboard-camera feed that showed them the same view as that being experienced by Paul Gesling. The view was difficult for Childers to compete with. The beautiful blues and whites that stretched across the Earth were quickly becoming a fixture at the bottom of the screen, and the dark blackness of s.p.a.ce was growing in prominence. In low Earth orbit, the curvature of the Earth was clearly visible, but spectacular in a different way than the "blue marble" made so famous by the Apollo astronauts. That view would have to wait until s.p.a.ce Excursions' customers were on their way to the Moon.

What the heck, thought Childers, gazing at the view screen along with everyone else in the room. thought Childers, gazing at the view screen along with everyone else in the room. I think I'll just shut up so we can enjoy the majestic view. I think I'll just shut up so we can enjoy the majestic view. Sometimes the best sales pitch was not pitching at all and just letting the product pitch itself. Sometimes the best sales pitch was not pitching at all and just letting the product pitch itself.

Fifteen miles away, perched on a small mesa, a Honda minivan was parked in the blazing Nevada sun. The motor was running and the air conditioner was at full blast to keep the occupants and their computers cool and safe from the unrelenting heat of the desert. Inside were three men, all Chinese, and all were watching their computer screens as the data they were collecting from the antennas mounted on the roof came streaming in.

"And they didn't even bother to encrypt the data?" asked the eldest man among them. He was incredulous, given that his last a.s.signment was to intercept data from an American antimissile test rocket flown over the South Pacific two years previously. The encryption on that data had taken them months to break, and they still weren't sure if they understood all of it. Without understanding how the instruments were calibrated, there would always be some uncertainty around the accuracy of the data intercepted.

Zeng Li almost grinned at his colleagues at the thought. He had years of experience with his country's foreign-intelligence community, for many of which he had been living in America working as the representative of a Chinese import/export bank. His other missions had proven much more difficult to acquire data access alone, and that was nearly as tough as breaking the decryption keys. This a.s.signment seemed absurdly easy, and that made him nervous.

Li and his team were charged with monitoring the flight of the Dreamscape Dreamscape and collecting copies of all its telemetry during the test flight. The team had modified the Honda van and turned it into a mobile communications center, though the only external evidence of this was the antenna. Perched on top of the van was a small dish antenna, clearly designed to receive satellite s.p.a.ce communications. Had the profusion of home-entertainment systems with satellite television not become commonplace in homes throughout the remote portions of the American southwest, the antenna might have stood out suspiciously. But satellite TV was ubiquitous, and almost every home and camper had the required hardware. Their van, therefore, looked no different than the many others who simply used their satellite communications system to watch and collecting copies of all its telemetry during the test flight. The team had modified the Honda van and turned it into a mobile communications center, though the only external evidence of this was the antenna. Perched on top of the van was a small dish antenna, clearly designed to receive satellite s.p.a.ce communications. Had the profusion of home-entertainment systems with satellite television not become commonplace in homes throughout the remote portions of the American southwest, the antenna might have stood out suspiciously. But satellite TV was ubiquitous, and almost every home and camper had the required hardware. Their van, therefore, looked no different than the many others who simply used their satellite communications system to watch Sunday Night Football Sunday Night Football.

"It looks like they are about to successfully achieve orbit," said another of the men as they keenly watched the data scroll by on the computer screens.

"I could have told you that," said the third man, who was watching the whole event live on Fox News, CNN, MSNBC, and the Science Channel.

No one paid any attention to the van or its occupants as they collected the data that would enable their colleagues at home to better understand the Dreamscape Dreamscape design recently stolen from the computers at s.p.a.ce Excursions. design recently stolen from the computers at s.p.a.ce Excursions.

"Dreamscape is in orbit," declared Paul Gesling. Though he had been in s.p.a.ce several times piloting the suborbital rockets that preceded is in orbit," declared Paul Gesling. Though he had been in s.p.a.ce several times piloting the suborbital rockets that preceded Dreamscape, Dreamscape, this was the first time he would actually circle the globe. Gesling was now euphoric. He was whizzing around the Earth in a 186-mile-high circular orbit at 17,253 miles per hour. One trip around the Earth at that alt.i.tude and speed took ninety minutes almost to the second. The mission plan included a total of ten orbits, which meant that he would be in s.p.a.ce for the next fifteen hours. A lot of that time he would be busy, but there was enough of it to allow the occasional gaze out the window. this was the first time he would actually circle the globe. Gesling was now euphoric. He was whizzing around the Earth in a 186-mile-high circular orbit at 17,253 miles per hour. One trip around the Earth at that alt.i.tude and speed took ninety minutes almost to the second. The mission plan included a total of ten orbits, which meant that he would be in s.p.a.ce for the next fifteen hours. A lot of that time he would be busy, but there was enough of it to allow the occasional gaze out the window.

"Control, now preparing for orbit-orientation burn," he read right off his checklist. "OOB in forty-five seconds."

"Roger that, Paul. Preparing for OOB."

At the Dreamscape Dreamscape's circular orbit, the s.h.i.+p was still in an airplane-like flight path. That meant that the nose was forward and the planet was underneath the belly. It would be easier to fly and maintain a steady s.p.a.cecraft orientation if the s.h.i.+p was rolled over and flying a.s.s-first just like the old s.p.a.ce shuttles used to. The view would be better, too. Paul toggled the OOB (p.r.o.nounced "oh-oh-bee") and the forty-five-second clock started to count down. The countdown allowed the onboard computer systems to interrogate the global-positioning data, the inertial-navigation units, and the exterior star trackers to determine the exact orientation of the s.h.i.+p with respect to the Earth and s.p.a.ce. Then it calculated the appropriate sets of burns to safely rotate the s.h.i.+p into the upside-down-and-backward flight configuration. The clock hit ten seconds, and all the calculations showed complete.

"Warning, orbital-orientation burn in three, two, one." Paul instinctively raised an eyebrow at the sound of the b.i.t.c.hin' Betty and gripped his restraints in preparation. The burn fired.

Several small cold-gas rocket thrusters fired on exterior of the s.h.i.+p, flipping it over and rolling it. Then the thrusters fired again to stabilize and stop the flight path. Burns, very small ones, would be needed over time to maintain the proper orientation of Dreamscape, Dreamscape, but they would be so small they would barely be noticeable compared to the OOB. but they would be so small they would barely be noticeable compared to the OOB.

"OOB is complete," Paul announced as the Earth filled the view in all the windows. "All systems look good, and to quote John Glenn, 'Oh, that view is tremendous!' " Gesling had been trying to think of something historic to say, but the best he could do was rob from history. The sentiment perfectly fit the moment as it stimulated the memory and feelings he had the first time he had heard that scratchy radio recording from 1962 when American astronaut John Glenn made his first journey into s.p.a.ce-years before Gesling's birth. Even though he had heard it as a rerun, it had instilled in him something amazing. Looking out the window now, he understood what it was. How Glenn must have felt that first time he looked out the window and saw that beautiful world beneath him...Paul felt the same way now.

"Roger that, Paul," Childers replied from his own control-room link. "You'll have to let me tag along for the ride sometime."

"I'll bring you up anytime you want to pay for it, Gary," Paul replied with a chuckle.