As has already been indicated by the frantic entries in my log, the story line took a couple of years of hard labor to pin down. We had the beginning and (approximately) the end; it was the center portion which refused to stay in one place. I sometimes felt that we were wrestling with a powerful and uncooperative snake, anchored at both ends.
FLIGHT PAY
The six members of the crew made their departures from Earth as quietly as possible, on separate and unannounced flights-some from the Kennedy Spaceport, some from the Baikonur Cosmodrome. They had all said goodbye to their families and friends, and had given countless interviews. They wanted no publicity during their last moments on Earth, and most of them managed to avoid it.
The actual launch date was still a week ahead. They would need all that amount of time to become accustomed to working and living as a team aboard Discovery under actual flight conditions-conditions which could never be completely simulated on Earth. The “Orbital Shakedown” could be carried out safely yet realistically with Space Station One hovering only a few miles away ready to provide immediate help in case of emergency
That preflight week was also essential for medical reasons. As Dr. Poole expressed it, with concise accuracy, “It gives us a chance to share our germs.” The ship would be rigorously quarantined; its inhabitants would catch no diseases from outside, and if they developed any allergies to each other, something could still be done about it.
There were countless little problems, but no major ones-at least, of a technical nature. However, Bowman was distracted from more important matters by one annoying piece of bureaucratic ineptitude
From the earliest days, the financial rewards of astronauts had always been the subject of controversy. Everyone agreed that they should be paid well-but how well?
After a long series of policy changes in which both the Space Agency and the individual astronauts had come in for much criticism, general rules had been worked out to everyone’s satisfaction. On this mission, where every man except Dr. Poole was an Astronaut, First Class, all crew members would receive the standard basic pay for that grade, which worked out at $34,945 per annum. By special arrangement with the Federal Health Insurance Agency which had somehow got into the act, Dr. Poole’s salary was supposed to be made up to that of his colleagues. For reasons that no one even attempted to understand, he actually received $35,105.
However-and this was where the trouble started-that was only the basic pay. On this mission there would be a flight bonus of $25,000 a year, as well as a substantial lump sum on return and provision for dependents in case of death or disablement. Bowman was just okaying the final payroll statements in the Administration Office of Space Station One when he noticed, quite by chance, that the flight bonus would not commence until the moment of injection into the transfer orbit to Jupiter.
The amount involved was only about $500 a man, but Bowman was quite sure that on earlier missions the full bonus had been paid from the beginning of the final checkout period in Earth orbit, when the full crew was assembled under captain’s orders and the ship was in all respects operational – even though the flight had not actually begun. So he sent back a memorandum to Accounts, quoting precedents.
There is a type of civil servant (fortunately not as common as the critics sometimes maintain) who refuses to admit a mistake. Such a one appeared to be at the other end of the line. He refused to budge, and so did Bowman. So while the captain of the multi-billion-dollar Discovery was taking over command of his ship, he was conducting an increasingly astringent debate with an anonymous Washington bureaucrat for a $500 bonus. They were still shooting radio memos at each other when the voyage began.
DISCOVERY
To the sightseers, cameramen, and commentators aboard Space Station One, it was hard to tell that the ship was actually moving. There was, of course, none of the thunder and fury of a takeoff from earth as Discovery pulled out of her parking orbit; the only sign of acceleration was the unbearable, blue-white radiance of the plasma jets blasting out their streams of ionized gas at hundreds of miles a second.
Even aboard the ship, the only sound produced by the drive units was a faint, far-off hissing, and their thrust was so low that weight was almost negligible. But they could maintain that thrust for hour after hour, as they spewed out their jets of star-stuff, hotter than the face of the sun. When they finally closed down, Discovery would be hurtling starward at almost thirty miles a second.
There was little for Bowman and Kaminski-acting as co-pilot-to do except to monitor all systems, and to be prepared to make decisions if a situation arose outside the computer’s experience or programming. But Athena was working perfectly, measuring the ship’s mounting speed and checking it second by second with the radars back on earth. From time to time she made minute corrections utterly imperceptible to the men aboard, to bring Discovery back onto the precomputed path.
Less than an hour after departure, she announced the uneventful passing of the voyage’s first milestone. The announcement was for the benefit of the waiting earth, for the crew knew it already from their instruments, nevertheless, that cool, soprano voice filled them with many conflicting emotions:
“We have now attained escape velocity. I repeat: We have now attained escape velocity.”
Here, already receding behind them, was what had once seemed the ultimate goal of rocket engineering. Whatever happened now, Earth could never call them back. Though power might fail in the next second, theirs would still be the freedom of space, to circle the sun forever on an independent planetary orbit.
There were still hours of acceleration ahead, but this was the psychological break-off point. Even though the cloud-girdled globe of Earth still filled the sky, she had lost them. Her backward- tugging gravity could now merely reduce their speed; it was no longer able to cancel and reverse it.
No man, however many times he went into space, could fail to react to this moment. His feelings depended on what he had left behind; for most, it was an instant of ineffable sadness, like the last sight of home to a seafarer who knows he will never return. For this was a parting that no men had ever experienced before this generation-a parting from the world more final than any earlier death, for Earth could not even reclaim their bones.
Soon afterward, the first booster unit was discarded. The acceleration ebbed to zero as the last precious drops of propellant were drained from the tank, and Discovery floated inert against the stars. Then the explosive bolts separated cleanly, and there was a gentle nudge as small solid rockets eased the two stages apart.
It was strange to see another manmade object hanging there in space, where a moment ago there had been only Earth, Sun, and stars. As the jets began to thrust again, the booster slowly dwindled astern; it seemed to be falling back to earth, but that of course was an illusion. It was now a satellite of the Sun, never to return to the world that had built it.
Three hours later, for the first time in the history of manned flight, Discovery passed another milestone.
“We have now attained solar escape,” said Athena. “I repeat: we have now attained solar escape velocity.”
At their control panels Bowman and Kaminski looked at each other with a mingling of pride and awe. Now they had not merely escaped from Earth, they had loosened the grip of the Sun itself. Unless they slowed themselves deliberately, they could now go sailing out past all the planets-gradually losing speed, but never falling back into the Solar System. In a few years they would pass the orbit of Pluto and go drifting onward, slowly but inevitably, toward the stars. It might take them a million years to reach the very nearest; but they would get there.
And still the speed mounted, minute by minute, through eight full hours of gentle acceleration. Earth was now a brilliant, waning crescent three hundred thousand miles sunward; though it was still a mere stone’s throw away, astronomically speaking, it already seemed more distant than Jupiter. To Discovery’s crew, it lay in their past, and they might never return to it. Jupiter lay in their future- and nothing, except the incredibly rare chance of a direct collision with a large meteorite or an asteroid, could prevent them from reaching it. For the ship was easing itself, with exquisite precision, into the final orbit.
“One minute from injection,” said Athena. “Cutting main drive in ten seconds.”
Par away, the barely audible hissing of the jets died into silence. With their passing went also the last sensation of weight, except for occasional ghostly pats and nudges as the low-powered vernier jets made infinitesimal adjustments to the orbit. Soon even these were finished; and Athena announced: “On course for Jupiter. Estimated transit time two hundred nineteen days five hours.”