March 30, 2033
Earth Departure Minus Twenty-five Months
14:55 Universal Time
Earth Orbit
“Steven Treadway reporting from four hundred miles above Earth’s surface, thanks to the wonders of virtual reality.”
He seemed to be standing in empty space, solidly three-dimensional, real. Behind him curved the massive bulk of Earth, heartachingly blue flecked with purest white clouds. To his right on the television screen hovered an ungainly-looking spacecraft, bulbous and bristling with piping, antennas, and a single cone-shaped thruster at one end.
“Today,” Treadway intoned, “the centuries-old dream of using the energy of the atom to propel a ship into deep space will become a reality when the nuclear thermal rocket engine of spacecraft Fermi comes to life.”
Treadway was actually standing in a TV studio in New York, in front of a blank green screen, reading his script from a teleprompter. He felt an urge to cross his fingers when he said so assuredly that the nuclear rocket would work, but realized that the viewing audience would see him do it.
“Within seconds,” he continued, “Fermi’s propulsion system will begin pumping 400,000 pounds of hydrogen through the fuel rods in the core of the nuclear reactor. The fissioning uranium atoms will heat the hydrogen fuel to three thousand degrees, giving the nuclear thermal rocket twice the propulsion efficiency of chemical rockets like those that were used on the old Space Shuttle or the Apollo program’s Saturn V.”
On TV screens across the world, Treadway walked godlike on the face of the deep, explaining, “The Fermi lander is unmanned, completely automated. Its mission is to land on the surface of Mars, delivering enough supplies to keep the Arrow’s crew of eight men and women alive and well for thirty days, once they get there. The lander will also serve as rather Spartan quarters for the human explorers as they live and work on the surface of Mars.”
Pressing one finger into the electronics bud in his left ear, Treadway announced, “Rocket engine ignition will take place in thirty seconds. Remember, there will be no sound. In space, there’s no air to carry sound.”
Treadway’s image disappeared from the scene, but his voice continued, “There won’t be much to see, either, since the ultrahot hydrogen gas expelled from the rocket’s thruster will be invisible. But—there she goes.”
It seemed that nothing much happened, but suddenly the huge bulk of the Fermi spacecraft leaped off the screen. The view immediately changed to a camera on board the ship, and the immense sphere of Earth dwindled noticeably.
“Godspeed, Fermi!” Treadway’s voice called after the departing spacecraft. “On to Mars!”
Treadway’s image appeared again. He was standing in the empty studio, looking slightly embarrassed after his burst of emotion.
“Steven Treadway reporting,” he said.
The TV broadcast immediately switched to a scene of picketers marching in front of the main gate of the Kennedy Space Flight Center in Florida, some carrying signs proclaiming no nukes in space and others hands off mars.