The throne of saturn, p.73
The Throne of Saturn, page 73
Mission Control reported it, everybody breathed easier. He announced a sleep period, fudging the details, and went back to Nina.
He pumped another half hour of glucose solution into his sleeping crewmate, felt his forehead again, and found the fever still raging, shook his head with an angry worry but knew he must husband his own energies. He set the alarm, strapped himself in his hammock, and slept like a log.
Four hours later, bright and cheerful, he was back again chatting with the ground for the benefit of his listening countrymen and the world as Planetary Fleet One continued the long glide home.
For the next thirty hours, this was essentially his routine. The spacecraft, as he had predicted to Jazz, virtually ran itself.
“The machinery is great,” he remarked wryly at one point to Bob Hertz. “It’s only the men who have had a few problems.”
What they were, however, he steadfastly refused to state in any more detail than he already had; unaware that despite the best intentions and necessary equivocations of himself, Houston and everyone connected with the program, the conviction was rapidly and loudly growing throughout America and the world that something was most gravely wrong with Piffy One.
It is unlikely that even if he had known it he would, or could, have paid much attention, for as the homeward flight entered its final hours, his crewmate grew steadily worse.
Five times over the next fifteen hours he returned to Nina, put new glucose bottles in place, and fed his wounded friend. The first two times Jazz did not stir. The third time he opened his eyes and managed a feeble grin.
“I’m sorry, nurse,” he said in a shadow of his former vigorous voice. “I’m going to have to have that bedpan.”
“All right,” Connie said. “Let’s see if we can get you up and over there.”
But Jazz’ legs were like rubber and after an earnest but futile attempt Connie eased him back into the hammock and strapped him in again.
“O.K., bedpan it is.”
“Hell,” Jazz said, and for the first time tears of anger and frustration came into his eyes. “I’m as helpless as a damned baby. You shouldn’t have to—”
“But you are,” Connie said calmly, “and I do. Hold it and I’ll get the bag.”
“Hell,” Jazz said again and turned his face away. “I’m ashamed to have to make you do this for me.”
“Look, pal,” Connie said in a no-nonsense tone. “You and I have both raised three little kids and wiped their bottoms, and there’s nothing we don’t know in this spacecraft about each other’s bodily functions, so relax, will you? I’m here to help, that’s my job. Now take it easy and we’ll get it done.”
After it was, he dressed the wound again, found the sinister discoloration had worked its way out in some places to a distance of approximately two inches from the edges of the wound. The temperature was also bad, up to 102.1 now. His patient was obviously failing and in desperation he returned to Special-1 to consult again with Houston. But, calculating the time of less than ten hours to docking with Mayflower, and his own inability, despite good intentions and a willingness to try, to do any really effective cauterization or surgery, it was decided that he should continue the same routine of treatment until they got home.
He did so at regular intervals of three to four hours, catching snatches of sleep and managing the spacecraft in between.
Three hours before he sighted Mayflower, the area around the wound had become so ugly that Connie, cursing in desperation, fear, and frustration, could hardly bear to look at it. By that time, also, Jazz’s temperature had climbed to 103. When Connie went back into Nina for the last time before he began preparations for docking, Jazz had sunk into a deep coma from which Connie could not arouse him.
“You must live,” he said softly to the impassive face, the labored, heavy breathing. “You must live, my friend and my witness.”
But there was no answer, and he was not at all sure at that moment that Jayvee’s neuroses might not yet prove to have done their final damage to Planetary Fleet One.
Very respectfully, with a genuine anguish for himself and his unhappy crew, he prayed for a safe deliverance. He was humbled now, all right, and he did not know when, if ever, he would be arrogant or self-confident about his destiny again.
Just before Jazz passed out for the last time, he had managed a last coherent remark.
“You’re quite a guy, Conn,” he whispered. “I mean it. I thank you for all you’ve done for me. The rest of us carry the load but you’re the greatest. You really are.”
And Connie had replied with a bitter, self-directed irony,
“Oh, no, I’m not. No, I’m not. I’m just the fool who thought he wanted to run the show. And the good Lord, bless his heart, said: Yes, little man, you may.”
One hour out, when they were safely in orbit around Earth and beginning to close with Mayflower, Bob and Andy called him from the space station over Special-1.
“Connie,” the administrator said quietly, “we think you have done an absolutely magnificent job of getting home. Chuck and his staff are confident they can save Jazz, but if they can’t, we want you to know that nothing can ever detract from the job you have done for him and for Planetary Fleet One. It has been absolutely heroic and everyone who knows space will always be in your debt.”
“It was my job,” he replied with a curious combination of gratitude, impatience, and a feeling close to resentment that he could not have analyzed if he tried. “I did it.”
“Don’t downgrade yourself,” Bob said gravely. “It was more than a job. It was inspired.” Then his tone changed in a subtle but definite way that suddenly alerted Connie to the fact that more than moonlight and roses was involved in this final in-flight conversation. “We have a message for you from the president. He also wishes to express his great gratitude and appreciation to you. He will be speaking to you himself before long. He hopes that in the meantime you will make no public statements of any kind whatsoever to anyone.”
“What does he mean by that?” Connie demanded sharply.
“The media have requested that they be allowed to be present at the docking,” Dr. Anderson said, “so we have agreed to a pool arrangement whereby you will be met by one pool reporter, a television newsman, a television cameraman, and a still photographer. We have brought them up by shuttle and they are now waiting here on Mayflower, along with ourselves and the vice president and one or two others.”
“So?” Connie said and his tone was frigid. “It sounds like quite a Roman circus to me. What do the bastards want to do, photograph Jazz unconscious with his mouth hanging open?”
“Connie,” Bob said quietly, “you must understand that there is enormous interest everywhere in the world about this. I think the president’s thought is that anything you say must be very carefully thought out so that there won’t be some unfortunate emotional or political reaction that could do you harm.”
“What? Did I hear you correctly? ‘Political reaction?’ Well, I’ll be God damned! I have lost half my crew—I am bringing home a crippled spacecraft, a wounded astronaut and myself—I am doing my level best to get us all there safely—and that devious son of a bitch is worrying about the political reaction! What in the Christ am I supposed to be doing up here?”
“All right, Connie,” Andy Anderson said sharply. “All right. We know you’ve had problems—”
“Ha!”
“—we know you’ve had problems. But so may he, in defending you.”
“Defending me?”
“Yes,” Dr. Anderson said, “defending you. You don’t know what has been going on down here in the last three days.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Let me tell you a little about it,” Andy said, still quietly; and proceeded to do so, calmly and dispassionately, presenting without comment or elaboration the situation that waited on the ground.
When it was over Connie said with equal quietness, “Thank you very much, Andy. I understand a little better now. Will NASA stand behind me?”
“Unequivocally.”
“Well,” he said grimly, “at least that’s a little comfort, anyway.”
But it wasn’t much, really, though he clung to it desperately in the closing minutes of his tragic mission.
He had entertained premonitions on the way home, indulged now and then in dark worries and speculations, occasionally thought gloomy thoughts he told himself he must not surrender to.
But it was only now that he realized how fully he and Planetary Fleet One were about to come once more under the scrutiny, malevolence, and attack of their relentless and vindictive enemies.
That sad knowledge, plus the terrible strains he had been under and the terrible relief of getting home, perhaps explained why the photographer on Mayflower was able to get the great picture that later won him several prizes: the commander of Planetary Fleet One, just after stepping aboard, crying in the arms of his wife.
The commander might have known, however, that no excuses, however human and reasonable, would be accepted for his temporary loss of control; nor would any charity or kindness be given him by hearts as desolate and uncompassionate as the Moon and minds as sterile and unforgiving as Mars.
Book Six
Chapter Thirty-Three
Hearts as desolate and uncompassionate as the Moon, minds as sterile and unforgiving as Mars: it had not taken them long to launch themselves upon their renewed and savage campaign. Roughly fifteen minutes after loss of signal from Adventurer and Planetary Fleet One, in fact.
From then on for three days there had been a steady crescendo of headline, broadcast, commentary and editorial, very little of it favorable in tone or emphasis to the mission or the men responsible for its fate.
First had come the emergency:
HOUSTON LOSES MARS MISSION … ALARM GROWS AS MARS FLIGHT BLACKS OUT … NASA TRIES STIFF UPPER LIP AS MARS MISSION STUMBLES … MARS FLIGHT LOST IN SPACE? NASA CAN’T CONNECT … SPACE DRAMA GROWS: WHERE IS MARS FLIGHT?…
Then had come reacquisition of signal:
MARS FLIGHT O.K. BUT MYSTERY ABORT ORDERED … STRANGE CHANGE IN MARS PLANS STIRS WORLD … NASA SILENT ON ABRUPT MARS TURNAROUND … WORLD CLAMORS FOR NEWS ON MARS PUZZLE … WHAT HAPPENED ON MOON? NASA MUM, U.S. GLUM …
Then had come Connie’s rough trip back:
MARS MYSTERY GROWS AS MISSION LIMPS HOME … HINT HARD-LUCK MARS CREW HURT … TRASKER ONLY VOICE FROM SPACE … MARS PUZZLE GROWS: WHERE IS CREW?… MARS FLIGHT HEADING HOME IN DISGRACE … WILLIAMS LEADS SENATE CALL FOR MARS INVESTIGATION …
Then had come the word from America’s well-wishers in space:
MOSCOW REVEALS SECRET SOYUZ 19 SCIENTIFIC MOON PROBE … REDS HAIL SUCCESS OF SURPRISE SCIENTIFIC FLIGHT TO MOON, PROMISE TO SHARE RESULTS WITH WORLD “AT SUITABLE FUTURE DATE” … COMMUNISTS SAY SOYUZ 19 MOON-SCAN “MAJOR ACHIEVEMENT” … U.S., WORLD SCIENTISTS PRAISE MOSCOW MOON SHOT … SENATE SPACE DOVES CALL FOR CLOSER COOPERATION WITH COMMUNISTS AFTER SOYUZ 19 TRIUMPH …
And then came the broadcasts, the commentaries, and the editorials:
“It is impossible tonight,” Frankly Unctuous said gravely in his musings following the 6 o’clock news on the night before Connie reached Mayflower, “not to contrast the sad collapse of America’s ill-advised and ill-fated attempt to reach Mars with the shining scientific achievement of Russia’s Soyuz 19 just announced in Moscow.
“On the one hand a hastily conceived, hastily planned, sadly foredoomed mission seeking only a faded national glory and a less-than-noble prestige. On the other a carefully thought-out, scientifically oriented achievement which does much to enhance the spirit of humanity as it ventures toward the stars.
“No details have yet been revealed by the Soviets concerning the flight of Soyuz 19. But we are assured by Moscow of this: its purposes were humanitarian, its goals were peaceful, and its triumph is a shining star in the Soviet crown.
“Not so, alas, our own unhappy mission to Mars, now limping home under extraordinary and unknown circumstances. It would take far more time than we have at our disposal tonight to expound, much less answer, the myriad questions that surround this ill-fated adventure. But one thing is overwhelmingly apparent: the Congress, the country, and the world will not rest content until all the facts are put upon the public record, without evasion, equivocation or guile.
“Our responsibility to ourselves—our responsibility to the world—our responsibility to our Communist friends who have so dramatically shown us once again what true and decent space exploration can be—all permit no other outcome.”
“So Planetary Fleet One limps home,” the Times said on the day of rendezvous, “under mysterious and presumably tragic circumstances. And America’s ill-starred attempt to wrest some empty bauble of prestige from a new space race with the Russians is apparently ending in the ignominy all such hostile and unfriendly ventures bring upon themselves and, possibly, deserve.
“We do not know yet what happened on the Moon when the Mars mission made what was originally scheduled to be a series of tests before departing on the main thrust to the planet Mars. But it is clear already that it can only have been something that brought no credit and no glory to the American name.
“In contrast, the news from Moscow of the scientific triumph of the Soyuz 19 mission to the Moon can only underwrite the glaring contrast between the opposing spirits in which the United States and the Soviet Union approach the great challenge of space.
“We do not yet know the full details of Soyuz 19’s triumphant visit, and in the Russian fashion, we may never be told them. Nothing has been released save Moscow’s bare statement that it has gone, has returned, and has been successful.
“Let it suffice that it was apparently a peaceful mission, designed to bring back new scientific knowledge for mankind. Nothing more is necessary to prove to us that the Soviet Union has again struck a blow for the peaceful and constructive exploration of space.
“And there is one other great aspect of the Russian achievement which must not be overlooked: it will help substantially to reduce the ‘imbalance of arrogance’ the United States has shown ever since the triumphs of the Apollo program. Soyuz 19’s triumphant voyage will place the Russians once again on an equal footing, technologically and psychologically, with the United States. It will destroy the overweening smugness of America in space.
“It, together with the disaster to Planetary Fleet One which has made an early American triumph on Mars impossible, will serve to bring the Russians and the Americans once more level with one another, so that neither can act from a dominant superiority.
“This is a great step forward for world peace.
“We hail it sincerely and pay it well-deserved tribute.
“Now there remains the task of determining what actually happened to Planetary Fleet One. And for that, the crew, the men of NASA who support them to this very hour with a computer curtain of obdurate silence, and the Administration which sent them, must be held to strictest public accounting at the earliest possible time.”
“Arrogance and a ruthless shouldering-aside of the decent and hopeful instincts of mankind have produced their just and sorry deserts in the apparently tragic failure of Planetary Fleet One,” the Post agreed on the same day.
“Seldom has a willful and wrong-headed Administration more flatly flaunted the desires of a larger number of thoughtful and farsighted American citizens. Seldom have the Red Barons of NASA been so adamantly determined that they should have their way with a foredoomed exercise in space futility.
“Well: they have had their way and we hope they are happy with the results.
“Stupidity, false pride, racism, and anti-internationalism characterized Planetary Fleet One’s beginnings.
“Failure, waste, ignominy, and human tragedy, to what degree we do not yet know, accompany its end.
“While the Soviet Union moves ahead with such peace-loving and genuinely humanitarian ventures as the just-announced Soyuz 19 scientific probe of the Moon, America plunges headlong down the blind road of space competition, outdated national pride and a fatuous ‘national prestige.’
“We warned against it from the beginning. In one short week we have seen all our forebodings come true. It is not a pleasure to say ‘We told you so,’ but it is a national duty that all who originally opposed Planetary Fleet One now speak out and emphasize the wisdom of their opposition.
“It is only thus that future space stunts can be forestalled. It is only thus that those responsible for the tragic failure of this one can be brought to book.
“And brought to book, we suggest, is what they speedily should be.”
And from the offices of the Committee Against Unilateral Space Exploration, the chairman and his Senatorial co-chairman issued a statement befitting their concern for America and their awareness of their own responsibility to fight for truth and justice in this ghastly and inexcusable episode:
“CAUSE regards with the deepest dismay and the sternest censure the tragic collapse of Planetary Fleet One and its ill-advised and ill-fated mission to Mars,” said Percy Mercy and Senator Kennicut Williams.
“We do not yet know the full details of this unhappy venture. We do know that CAUSE opposed it from the first as foolish, futile, anti-peace, anti-international, racist, arrogant, and unnecessary.
“CAUSE suggests that from now on the American Government and the present Administration take guidance from the Russians, who have just announced a successful Soyuz 19 scientific flight to the Moon.
“CAUSE does not know the details of this flight, nor does Moscow, apparently, intend to elaborate upon its terse announcement.
“But the announcement alone is sufficiently electrifying: At this late date, despite the example of American arrogance as a result of Apollo triumphs, a great power can launch a peaceful mission in space. It can act in the interests of all mankind. It can go beyond the confines of Earth with humanity, brotherhood, and good will.
