All That Outer Space Allows (Apollo Quartet Book 4) (15 page)

Apollo 12, says the engineer, they finished putting it together only two days ago.

When will it launch? asks Ginny.

There’s still weeks of tests yet, the engineer adds. It’s all automated, but we won’t be ready to roll out to the pad for more than a month.

There is an unintended irony here. I have never visited the John F Kennedy Space Center, nor the Lyndon B Johnson Space Center (as the Manned Spacecraft Center is now known), I have never stood beside a Saturn V. I can only imagine its size, its sheer physicality. And yet, here I am, attempting to describe it in such a way that its overwhelming proportions impact my fictional character’s imagination. There are those who consider science fiction an essentially ironic genre, and the universe is indeed indifferent to the plight of humans—but in many science fiction stories, the very fate of the universe is dependent upon a person’s actions. In order to tell stories which will appeal to readers, writers must put people at the centre, and give them the power to change their world. It is almost axiomatic.

Yet here is Virginia Grace Eckhardt, who has no such power. She has power only over the fictional worlds she creates on her typewriter.
There
is irony. And there is more irony still—

Imagining an entirely female astronaut corps, given that, at the time Ginny is being shown around the VAB in early July 1969, only one woman, Valentina Tereshkova, has been into space.

Positing a history of science fiction in which the genre is dominated by women, in which it is considered women’s fiction.

One of the strengths of science fiction is its capacity to literalise metaphors. The 526 foot tall Vehicle Assembly Building, the Apollo 12 stack on the crawler-transporter in one of its high bays, both could be considered literal representations of the irony which underlies the narrative of
All That Outer Space Allows
.

The view from the roof of the VAB is astonishing, even though there’s little to see: low scrub, inlets and basins, to the east the blurred grey carpet of the Atlantic Ocean. And, of course, the two launch pads—a wide causeway stretches from the VAB to each of them, along which the crawler-transporter will carry its Saturn V stack.

A cool sea breeze blows across the top of the VAB, and Ginny feels it press the thin material of her dress against her back. There’s a photographer from the NASA press office standing several feet away, so Ginny smiles and grips Walden’s hand tighter and hopes she doesn’t look too foolish in the hard hat. The photographer tells them he’s finished, Walden releases her hand and marches across to have a word with the man. Ginny turns about, puts a hand up to the NASA pass clipped to her dress and plays idly with it as she gazes out at launch pads 39A and 39B. At some point in the next year or two, her husband may well find himself lying on his back in a command module atop 6 million pounds of fuel—kerosene and liquid oxygen; and liquid hydrogen and liquid oxygen—which will burn producing 8.5 million pounds of thrust and all to throw around 45 tons into orbit about the Earth in eleven and a half minutes.

She wonders what it might feel like to sit atop a Saturn V mated to one of those giant red gantries at the launch pad, clad in a space suit, the battleship grey instrument panel above her… She hugs her torso and shivers. This is what she has been writing about, but now having witnessed the colossal size of the Saturn V, she wonders if she can truly capture the sensation of flying in it. Science fiction seems such an imperfect tool, too dependent upon well-worn tropes and conventions so long established they’re usually left unexplained.

If only Ginny could apply to be an astronaut herself! But women are not allowed. Women are perfectly capable of being astronauts, of that much she is convinced—and an all-female astronaut corps would do the job just as well as an all-male one, if not better. Perhaps there’s a story in there somewhere, a history of the US space program, but with female astronauts—

Walden is at her side. He’ll send us copies, he says. Have you seen enough, hon?

She glances at her watch. It’s after four, they’ve been here since lunch-time, no doubt the tour would not have taken so long if Ginny hadn’t insisted on asking their guide how everything worked. He seemed as fascinated by her interest as she was by his explanations.

What about the launch pads? she asks. Can we see one of those?

Not with the Apollo 11 stack on the pad, hon, maybe another time.

Walden insinuates an arm around her waist. I got to get back to work, he says. Tomorrow maybe I’ll take you round the MSOB. I can show you the altitude chambers.

He gives her a squeeze and steers her about, toward the stairwell in the centre of the roof. I’ll come to the hotel this evening, he adds, we can have dinner in the restaurant. Another squeeze. Maybe I’ll even stay over.

I’d like that, she replies.

In the VAB parking lot, no longer wearing hard hats, Ginny glances back at the building and is struck anew by its enormous size. Science fiction is all about scale, vast distances and deep time, made manageable, made
human
. All those parsecs and light years, those millions and billions of years, rendered
conceivable
. And yet real space exploration is huge too, perhaps just a little bit too large to be believed, even when standing right next to it. The Saturn V seen up close is…
monstrous
.

And the distances! How obliviously science fiction skates over the vastness of space—
a quarter of a million miles
to the Moon, three days travel, they say the guys in Apollo 10 travelled the fastest of any human beings, hitting 24,791 mph during their return from the Moon. And a trip to Mars… It almost doesn’t bear thinking about: millions of miles, months and months of travel, to stand on the surface of a world where a man cannot survive without science, without engineering…
This
is what Ginny wants to put into her science fiction.

She has stood on the flight line at Edwards, she has seen Boeing B-52 Stratofortress bombers and marvelled at their size, been astonished that such a large and substantial aircraft—length 159 feet 4 inches, wingspan 185 feet, max takeoff weight 488,000 lbs!—could ever take to the air. But she has seen them fly, thundering past, no more than a few hundred feet above the dry lake, trailing smoke, the roar of their eight turbofan engines deafening.

Ginny knows about sense of wonder and suspension of disbelief, they are the tools of her trade. She tries to deploy both in her stories, whether she succeeds is open to debate. Sometimes she speculates if applying those concepts to real life, the quotidian and the prosaic, in some way devalues them. After all, she has witnessed much which would seem to apply—not just the sight of a B-52 taking off, but the ways of men, of her husband, the selective blindness and pigheadedness. The efforts she must go to in order to be noticed, the work she must put into the house so it fits Walden’s idea of a home…

Ginny slides into Walden’s car, and as soon as she’s shut the door, he pulls out of the parking space. I’ll take you back to your car, he says, I still got stuff to do.

But you’ll come to the hotel later?

Sure, I said so, didn’t I? He looks across at her. How long are you planning on staying, hon?

She ignores his gaze and stares out of the passenger window at the passing scenery, which appears no more interesting at ground level than it did 526 feet up in the air. I don’t know, she replies. A couple of days, I suppose.

When you’ve seen everything at the Cape, there’s the beach, Walden suggests.

Ginny is not a beach person, and spending hours lying on hot sand beneath the Florida sun, in a bikini or a one-piece, that’s not something she’s ever considered a worthwhile pastime. She came to Cocoa Beach to see more of the space program—and her husband of course—not to sunbathe.

Maybe, Ginny tells her husband.

Walden Eckhardt

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Walden Jefferson “Wal” Eckhardt
(born March 8, 1932) is a retired United States Air Force brigadier general and a former NASA astronaut. As the lunar module pilot for Apollo 15 in 1971, he became the eighth person to walk on the Moon.

Biography

Early life and education

Eckhardt was born in Grand Junction, Colorado, where he graduated from Central High School in 1950. After a year spent working at Walker Field Airport, where he earned his pilot’s licence, he studied for and received a Bachelor of Science in Aeronautical Engineering at San Diego State University in 1955.

Military career

Eckhardt joined the United States Air Force on graduation from San Diego State University. After a year at flying school, he was sent to George Air Force Base, California, for advanced training on the North American F-86 Sabre fighter jet, before being assigned in 1959 to the 415
^th
Interceptor Squadron stationed at Ramstein Air Force Base in Germany. In 1962, he was transferred to the Experimental Test Pilot School at Edwards Air Force Base, California. On graduation, he remained at Edwards as an instructor before attending the Aerospace Research Pilot School in 1962. After graduating from ARPS, he spent a year as an instructor and was then assigned to the Fighter Test Group.

NASA career

In April 1966, Eckhardt was one of the nineteen selected for NASA’s fifth group of astronauts. In 1968, he served as a member of the support crew for Apollo 10, the first mission to carry the full Apollo stack to the Moon and the dry run for the first manned Moon landing. He then served as backup lunar module pilot for Apollo 12, the second Moon landing mission, commanded by Charles ‘Pete’ Conrad.

Apollo 15

Between July 26 and August 7, 1971 – as the Apollo 15 Lunar Module Pilot (LMP) – Eckhardt logged 295 hours and 11 minutes in

space. His extra-vehicular activity (EVA) on the Moon’s surface

amounted to 18 hours and 35 minutes of the mission time (an additional 33 minutes was used to do a stand-up EVA by opening the LM’s docking hatch to survey the surroundings and take photographs). Eckhardt and David Scott’s mission was more science-based than previous missions, which meant that they received intensive geological training to meet the demanding nature of the J-Mission profile. This extra training is credited with allowing them to make one of the most important discoveries of the Apollo era, the Genesis Rock.

Apollo 15 landed in the Moon's Hadley-Apennine region, noted for its mountains and rilles. As a J-Mission, they would spend more time on the moon than previous missions, to allow for three EVAs. As well, Eckhardt was the first automobile passenger on the Moon as Scott drove the Lunar Roving Vehicle (LRV) carried along for this mission in the Lunar Module (LM) Falcon's Descent Stage. Scott and Eckhardt’s stay on the Moon was just under three days at 66 hours and 54 minutes.

Post-NASA career

After Apollo 15, Eckhardt remained with NASA after being assigned to the Skylab program. However, once the planned fifth Skylab mission was cancelled Eckhardt left NASA, and retired from the United States Air Force, on September 1, 1975. He held a number of positions with aerospace companies before retiring in 1992.

Personal life

Eckhardt married his wife, Virginia, shortly after she graduated from San Diego State University in 1958. They have one daughter, Suzy, born 1973. The pair divorced in 1979.

Organizations

He was a member of the Air Force Association and the Society of Experimental Test Pilots.

Awards and Honors

• Air Force Distinguished Service Medal
  
• Air Force Commendation Medal
  
• NASA Distinguished Service Medal
  
• Command Pilot Astronaut Wings
  
• Robert J Collier Trophy, 1971
  
• Haley Astronautics Award, 1972
  

He was also awarded Belgium’s Order of Leopold in 1971, and an Honorary Doctorate in Aeronautical Engineering from San Diego State University in 1971.

He was inducted into the International Space Hall of Fame in 1983, and the U.S. Astronaut Hall of Fame on October 4, 1997.

Bibliography

• Flight of the Falcon
  (with Virginia G. Eckhardt, 1983)
  

Categories: American astronauts | 1971 in spaceflight | American aviators | American test pilots | Apollo 15 | People who have walked on the Moon | United States Air Force officers | U.S Air Force Test Pilot School alumni

Chapter 9

Lunar Module Descent

The next day, Ginny is taken round the Manned Spacecraft Operations Building, she sees the altitude chambers in which they test if the command modules and lunar modules can survive the rigours of space. She can’t decide if the chambers resemble giant ovens or giant diving bells but perhaps, she decides, it’s because their function is something of both. Then, on the third floor, Walden hasn’t said where he’s taking her, he abruptly halts, glances at his watch and swears.