“Just a minute,” came a faint voice under the cowling. “Keep your pants on.”
“Not if I can help it,” he yelled back.
Marcy extracted herself from underneath the big radial engine and wiped a fresh oil smudge from her cheek. “You, sir, are a dirty old man.”
He hopped down off the wing and planted a kiss on her forehead. It was the only clean spot he could find.
“You’re one to talk, lady,” he said, wiping her face. “I keep telling you that stuff is awful-looking makeup.”
“You two quit horsing around, we’ve got a race to qualify for,” Art Hammond barked, walking out from beneath a sunshade. “Good grief, I forgot how hot it can get out here.”
“Afternoon, Art,” Ryan greeted. “We were just getting to that—I promise,” he said, shooting a quick glance at Marcy.
“I should’ve known better than to put a couple of newlyweds on this job…in
Reno
, for crying out loud. What was I thinking?”
“We figured you were just showing us your appreciation,” she laughed.
“I let you keep your jobs, right? That should have been enough. So hop to it, Cannon.”
“That’s Hunter, sir.
Mrs
. Hunter,” she corrected, and crawled back under the cowling.
“You’ve got a live wire there, Ryan,” Hammond observed after she’d gotten back to work.
“Your fault, Arthur. You hired the lady; I just couldn’t resist her feminine wiles. It’s a good thing she didn’t latch onto some weaker, lesser man first.”
Hammond rolled his eyes. “I shudder for our future.”
“Hell, Art. You
live
for it.”
“You’re right, I do,” he sighed, putting an arm around Ryan’s shoulder. “Let’s walk. I have an important question for you.”
“Certainly,” Ryan said. “What’s on your mind?”
They strolled down the flight line, past a gaggle of hotrod antique fighter planes. Hammond paused after a moment, finding a quiet corner. He raised an eyebrow and mischievously looked Ryan up and down.
“Son, how’d you like to fly something
really
fast?”
NOTES
The seeds of an idea that eventually grew into the book you are now reading were first planted back in 2003, when SpaceShip One became the first private spacecraft piloted by the first truly civilian astronaut (who was, by the way, a high-school dropout).
Not long after that, Virgin Galactic began selling tickets for suborbital tourist flights and found enough people willing to fork over the $200,000 ticket price to permit the new “spaceline” to purchase an entire fleet. As of this writing, SpaceShip Two is undergoing test flights and will hopefully start carrying passengers by the end of next year.
While inspiring in and of itself, what really caught my attention were the plans expressed by Sir Richard Branson for his new company. Like the ship’s designer, Burt Rutan, he wasn’t going to be satisfied with short little joyrides into space and back. What really got me paying attention was their next step: scheduled point-to-point service all over the world.
As described elsewhere in
Perigee
, that makes a lot of sense once you get past the giggle factor that used to plague any private space venture. Think about it: if that many people are willing to fork over nearly a quarter-million dollars for a quick hop into space, how many more would pay for a longer trip through space that actually took them somewhere (especially if it costs less)?
I have no illusions that it wouldn’t be expensive, stupendously so, at least for a while. But that’s how it goes with anything truly new. Once a fleet of SpaceShip Threes has been zipping between continents long enough to absorb the initial start-up costs, then they can really get down to business. In other words, ticket prices will inevitably be driven down by volume and frequency. That’s how it went with the early airlines, and Branson & Co. expect that’s how it will eventually go with spacelines.
A few other bazillionaires (that’s a technical term) are working on their own programs. Most notable are Jeff Bezo’s Blue Origin, Elon Musk’s SpaceX, and Paul Allen’s Stratolaunch. If you don’t recognize the names, those are founders of Amazon, PayPal, and Microsoft, respectively. Ironic, considering all three businesses have directly enabled your ability to read this book.
Their vehicles are mostly traditional rockets except that they’re taking them to the next level by building in
reusability
. Lack of reusability is a big reason why spaceflight has remained outrageously expensive for so long (others stem from a lesser-known property of physics: the inertia of bureaucratic culture).
Imagine if every time someone flew a brand-new 747 halfway around the world, it was thrown away at the end of the trip. Forget about your frequent-flier miles, nobody could ever afford to fly anywhere. And if you understand what goes into designing, building, and certifying a new airliner, then you also understand that’s not an overly simple comparison. Boeing has spent a lot more money putting the 787 into service than SpaceX has on their Falcon 9, and that’s work by people with the same general skill sets.
Reusability is why aerospace engineers have long sought the holy grail of single-stage-to-orbit (SSTO). A suborbital spaceflight is a comparatively minor deal next to reaching orbit, though either could reach similar altitudes. We’re talking about a tremendous amount of energy, because no matter the size of the vehicle it needs to reach a speed of over 17,000 miles per hour. In the atmosphere, that would be Mach 25, which is
really
fast (another technical term). The less time you spend in the atmosphere the better, because things get awfully hot at those speeds.
Unfortunately, spaceplanes are probably the most inefficient way to get there, even though a lot of SSTO ideas were based on something resembling an airplane for obvious reasons. Not to say it can’t be done, but a pure rocket doesn’t have to lug around heavy landing gear, wings, and large amounts of thermal shielding.
So why write about hypersonic jetliners? First, I like the concept however unlikely it may be. And it’s my book, so
there
. I’ve also been in the airlines and related businesses for a long time, so that’s what I know. And I can promise you that if Sir Richard ever starts booking those 90-minute New York-to-Tokyo flights, it will be people like me and the thousands of others I’ve been privileged to work with through the years that will make it happen. Our world is filled with normal people who get to do unusual and sometimes extraordinary things through the daily grind of their jobs.
And that, at long last, is what led me to write this book. As I pondered what kinds of things could go wrong with such a flight, I realized the potential it held for a great story. If spaceflight ever became that routine, it would likewise be something I could understand from my own experiences and possibly even relate to others.
Truth be told, this book began when I was a child obsessed with the Gemini and Apollo programs. What you read here is the product of a lifetime of informal research superimposed over my experiences in the airline world.
So before anyone gets any bright ideas, not one single character is based on any real person. Each one embodies a combination of personality traits and individual quirks, many of which are my own. There’s no way to write fiction without incorporating one’s own observations and interactions, so if something strikes you as familiar, that’s why. Which is generally a good thing, because the whole idea is to achieve a sense of verisimilitude (another technical term).
After eight years of many starts and stops, lost files, corrupted hard drives, personal crises, and sleepless nights, the results are here for your entertainment. I hope you’ve enjoyed it. I promise the next one won’t take nearly as long.
Pat Chiles
Canal Winchester, Ohio, 2011
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
My wife Melissa, for her unwavering encouragement.
My good friend Leona Perry, for editing this into something resembling a coherent story.
Chuck Shure, Jeff Ridder, and Jeff Foster, all of whom have worked in varied aspects of aeronautical engineering and human spaceflight. Each provided their own perspective on the technicalities and inside-NASA experiences that hopefully imbue this story with the realism it demands. Any technical errors are mine, not theirs.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Patrick Chiles is a graduate of The Citadel and a Marine Corps veteran. Over the past twenty years he has worked as an airline flight controller, performance engineer, and safety manager.
He has written for a number of aerospace magazines, including Smithsonian’s
Air & Space
. This is his first novel. A proud native of South Carolina, he currently lives in Ohio with his wife and children.