NationStates Jolt Archive

OFFICIAL PRESS RELEASE

DATELINE: Thursday, 2 September 2004

CLASSIFICATION: None

For General Release

A scheduled launch of Texas Space Shuttle Lone Star 2 will occur at 12 Noon TT on Sunday, 5 September 2004. The vehicle will launch from the Harrison Space Shuttle Launch Facility in Pablicosta, and Mission Control will be handled by the Greenspoint Aeronautic and Space Agency from the Strickland Space Center in Webster, Greenspoint. The mission of the vehicle is to deliver into high orbit a component of the Texas Star Wars Missile Defense System for testing. The payload has been dubbed "Blade 1".

Please direct any questions or inquiries to the office of the Texas Secretary of Space, or the office of the Assistant Secretary.

Tim Foster
Texas Asst. Sec'y of Space

Link to post on Texas Forum (http://invisionfree.com/forums/Texas/index.php?showtopic=1200&st=0)

Control Room 2, Strickland Space Center, Webster, Greenspoint: 12:33 PM

Carl Harding entered the control room walking briskly. He was excited about the upcoming shuttle flight, and as the flight controller he was in overall charge of the flight and its mission. That was a big responsibility, but one that he eagerly looked forward to. He almost skipped as he made his way to the control desk on the upper level of the "pit" containing all the usual control stations. The room was mostly dark, except for a few nightlights and standby indicators on some of the boards. He flipped a switch at his console as he sat in the upholstered chair, and a fluorescent desk lamp illuminated the rest of the desk's controls. He looked around at the rest of the room, his hand hesitating over the toggles that would bring up the room lights and send power to the rest of the consoles and the main display on the far wall. He always felt this was a magical time in any flight, the period just before all hell broke loose in the control room. All the potential of the mission was there, waiting for the ground controllers and the flight crew to realize the fullness of what could be accomplished. He took in the darkened stations that would all to soon be lit up and manned by other trained controllers. He smiled to himself. He closed his eyes and took in the sounds of the quiet room; taking a deep breath he enjoyed the smells. The cleaning crew had been in the night before in anticipation of the activity soon to erupt in here.

With a sigh he opened his eyes and ran his thumb across the switches. Lights all over the room came on as control panels purred to life. The main display screen came to life, showing all the continents and islands of the world, with Texas smack dab in the middle. He glanced at the clock at the upper right corner of his console. 12:44. The rest of the crew would be arriving soon, in compliance with his order to be there at 1:00. He could hear voices down the hall through the main doors. Some others were coming in early. That was ok. It showed a level of eagerness he appreciated. It had been too long for his liking since the previous shuttle flight. And this time GASA Director Jadloski had given him the command slot. Too cool.

The voices from the hallway grew louder, then the door opened and a small group of technicians and controllers came in. Carl looked to see who was in the group, and found the one person he'd hoped would arrive early.

"Gwen," he called. "Would you set up a direct link to Harrison as soon as you can? I want to check with the Pablicostans on the progress of the vehicle to the pad." The fiery-haired woman who looked over at him smiled and nodded.

"Sure thing, Carl. I'll get it up in an jiffy," she said as she slid into her seat. Carl watched her for a bit, entranced by the sight of her bright red hair pulled back in a ponytail. He really liked her hair and the watching the way it waved and bobbed as she attended to the tasks at her console was as hypnotizing to him as the swaying of a gold pocket watch might be to one of Mesmer's subjects. He shook himself when he became aware of where his thoughts were headed, and got back to his own task of brining systems online.

"Carl," Gwen called. "I've got Coordinator Bahroon on the link at Harrison. Channel 3."

"Thanks Gwen," Carl said, grabbing the headset and plugging it into the jack on the console. He dialed it over to channel 3 and could hear the background noises he knew were coming from the VAB at Harrison.

"Jacob," he said into the mic. "How we doing on getting the bird to the pad?"

Link to post on Texas Forum (http://invisionfree.com/forums/Texas/index.php?showtopic=1204)

Jacob was stood outside the security bunker when the call came through from Greenspoint Command. The cold breeze russled his greying hair as he gazed at the shuttle, lying Horizontal beside the launch pad. The vertical Launch structure was about 20 feet from its final location, but that could be an eternity in moving giant launch pads. The words 'Lone Star Two' glistened in silver against the white body of the shuttle, and Jacob caught a final glimpse of it as he turned round and tapped the accept button on his headset. He opened the door to escape the gentle breeze, and was basked in the warmth of the controll room immediatley, the giant apexing roof of glass reflected the light beautifully. He took a breath in and looked arround before begining the conversation;
'Hey Carl, We're doing good. We just need 12 minutes to erect the Shuttle and move the structure into place, then your looking at 3 minutes to get everyone clear and the games yours' He sneezed quitley, but as he tried to keep it in it hurt, wrenching his stomach causing him to let out an audible 'Ow'. 'Are you guys ready to take over? 'Cause the structure just started moving in ready to receive...'

Control Room 2, Strickland Space Center, Webster, Greenspoint

Carl Harding sighed again and rubbed at the knot of tension forming in the back of his neck. He looked again at the two clocks on his console. The current time: 12:35 PM. The launch clock: T minus 32 minutes and holding. He sighed again. What was taking those … he shied away from any demeaning epithets he could use for the ground crew at Harrison. The folks in Pablicosta knew what they were doing, even if they couldn’t seem to find the problem that caused all the warning lights to flash on almost simultaneously over an hour ago. Everything had been green all through the countdown. The flight crew were in their seats, ready to go. The payload was snugly secured in the cargo bay of the shuttle, waiting for deployment. Everything was going smoothly. Then this. He sighed again.

“Jacob,” he said into the mic on his headset. “Status?”

“Same as it was five minutes ago, Carl,” the voice in the earpiece snapped. Jacob Bahroon, Mission Coordinator at Harrison, sounded as frustrated as Carl felt. And with good reason. Carl’d been hounding him at regular and more frequent intervals for an update as he continued to hear nothing from the ground crew about the problem. “I’ll let you know as soon as I do, I promise.”

“Sorry, Jacob,” Carl almost mumbled. “I know you’re doing your best.” Jacob didn’t answer, presumably busy at his end of the connection.

Another voice came across the speakers in the room and the earpiece of Carl’s headset.

“Flight Com, this is Two. Can I get an update?” Major Timothy Hongos, shuttle commander, had been patiently sitting in the cockpit with the rest of his crew now for almost two hours. By this time in the schedule they should have been in orbit. “I’ve got a few folks up here that … uh … well … need to use the facilities, if ya know what I mean.”

Carl quickly looked at the status board. The weather was holding, they had another 45 minutes in this window for the launch. If they missed it, they’d have to wait at least another day. It would take at least an hour and a half to get the crew out of the shuttle then back in once they’d taken care of … “business.”

“Can y’all hold on another 45 minutes or so, Two?” Carl asked. “I’d hate to lose this window, and Harrison might yet find the glitch.” There was silence on the line for a bit. Hongos was probably asking the rest of the crew if they could hold it.

“Yeah, we can wait, Flight. Please keep us apprised, though.”

“You got it, Two,” Carl said. He rubbed at the knot of tension in his neck again. “Jacob, you got anything you can tell me?”

Launch Pad "B", Harrison Shuttle Launch Facility, Pablicosta, Texas

The 'Trains', tiny little golf buggy like things, were buzzing around the entire launch facility, people yelling to other people. Engineering Commander Jo Higgins was peering at the fuel pipes inside the Shuttle. 'Come on, come on' he muttered to himself again and again as the light scaffold that was erected quickly swayed gently away from the shuttle. As the tower brought him closer once again to the target he reached out and grabbed at a tap with desperation, holding the scaffold still with all his strength. He let out a light groan as his Second in engineering command pulled himself up onto the top rung of this far too unsteady ladder. 'Ahhh, ha' he yelled as he reached into the Shuttles engines and twisted the suspect hose that Higgins had located. 'Well Franck? Anything doin?' called Jo from only a few feet away, 'Oh yeah Sir. The caution light is flashing, but that’s just 'cause this doors open, I'm sorry but there ain’t a problem here'. Jo sighed out loud and let go of the shuttle allowing himself and his crew to begin swaying again; 'Lets get down guys' he said with a groan. Then he pushed the COMMAND button on his headset and listened to the beep which indicated he was on loudspeaker to the Harrison Command Facility. 'Command, We've checked the last of the Shuttle areas, nothing to see or fix'. Command was silent for a moment, 'Okay Higgins, continue your search elsewhere', Higgins didn’t reply, he saw one of his Engineers on the ground waving his arms around and jumping. The entire crew began clambering down the makeshift tower, leaving the two trainees with them to bring down the scaffold quickly. Jo lead the charge towards this man standing next to a colossal Man-Hole cover which was slid open. 'We got the problem Sir!' said the jubilant engineer, to which the out of breath Higgins managed only to yell the word 'YES' before sitting on the ground. 'The new power cables for the launch were not sealed correctly so when the massive serge of power came through to activate the shuttle and begin the movement of the launch Tower the computer turned it off to avoid catastrophe. John's down there fixing it right now, just a 2 minute job'. Franck took charge as his superior was down on the ground, 'Good work guys, I’ll inform the crew and Command, expect your bonus next week!'

In just a few minutes the launch site was cleared and green lights were flashing again as the final signal was sent from Harrison Command; 'Strickland, you have control. T-minus 10 minutes and counting, good luck.' The giant counter began beeping every second at Harrison Command as the digital numbers ticked away.
'Do it for Texas Strickland, Do it for Texas' said Jacob Bahroon as the mic switched off.

Yes, SB, what happened? Please don't tell me it's an another explosion at the TLC sector, I'm tired of beaming instructions there, they should know by themselves how to treat a Molecule Transmutator.
Those words were spoken at 5:10 AM at the dodecahedron shaped Techno Palace - the gouvernment building of Trentaur - by the Supreme President
Tangaros Aldarion.
No, sir, said the one referred to as "SB" - a shorter version of SBPM, SecretaryBot Presidential Model - a black and green human shaped robot,
it's the Lone Star 2 launch: it's delayed. Our interceptors have got messages about an undefined malfunction.
Really? Well, let's help them. Get a Diag team working.

When Quendior Morquen rushed into the Presidential cabinet,
Tangaros couldn't suppress a smile: the sight of his skinny, tower - tall, nearsighted old friend had always had this effect on the President.
The absent - minded and stubborn Quendior was nonetheless a very interesting person and one of the best scientists on Trentaur, and that is what made him the Vice - President of TIA Quantum Industries and the Scientific advisor of Tangaros.
The smile vanished rapidl - Quendior was very upset:
Tang, they MUST NOT launch this shuttle, said the advisor.
What happened, Quen? You look like you've found out that it's about to explode!
Worse, Tang, much worse! The whole world will be in danger if they launch!
I've got to contact them immediately! Can I use your SB?
Yes, Quen, you're welcome.
Noiselessly, the robot rose before them. The time was 6:07 - three minutes after the launch.

Trans Urgent Telegram
From: The Confederacy of Trentaur
To: Jacob Bahroon, The Militant Mercantile Alliance of Greenspoint

Dear sir, we have indicated a severe problem in the computer systems of the Lone Star 2 shuttle: an HO type trojan virus was installed into the main computer's core. We know that a second malfunction took place at the launch site: power cables were sealed incorrectly, leading to a complete shutdown of the shuttle systems. This malfunction was intentionally caused in order for the Virus to get past the ship's advanced antiviral systems and settle itself deep in the core during the reboot.
The virus now gives the organization that sent it a complete control over the shuttle and it's systems, and if the rumors about the Blade 1 systems are correct, this organization now holds the entire hemisphere on the sight.
The whole Anti-CyberCrime crew of Trentaur is at your disposal.

Quendior Morquen, Scientific Advisor of the President

Control Room 2, Strickland Space Center, Webster, Greenspoint

Carl Harding could feel the excitement and tension in the room grow as the countdown clock passed T minus 5 minutes. After missing two launch windows already to the mysterious glitches and loose power couplings, it looked like Lone Star Two was finally going to get off the ground. The crew was in the cockpit, the ground team at Harrison was well clear of the Launch Pad "B", and all the consoles in the control room showed green across the board.

Following the routine schedule, Carl made his next request.

"T minus 5 minutes. Remote landing site check, please." His voice carried across the comm channels was heard by no fewer than 300 people directly in their own headsets, from the flight crew in the shuttle, to the ground crew at Harrison, to every man and woman in the same control room. His voice was also broadcast over the PA systems of both Strickland and Harrison. The large crowd in the grandstand at Harrison to view the launch first hand heard him. They cheered at his announcement of the time to launch. The crowd was made up of relatives of the flight crew, reporters and camera operators from hundreds of news agencies, off-duty Harrison employees, and dignitaries and national leaders from all over Texas.

The reports came back to his headset from each of the 4 emergency landing sites downrange.

"Little Field, clear."

"Carter Lake, clear."

"Jackson City, clear."

"Phillips Field, clear."

"Roger that," he answered. "We show all remote landing sites clear." He sighed. If anything else went wrong, he'd have plenty of options as to where to put the shuttle back down in a hurry. He took another sip of tea and looked around. The hum of the control room was reassuring. There was normally a lot of movement, people getting up and moving around the room, but at this point it was critical that everyone be on constant alert for any discrepancy. As a result, nobody moved and over 100 people were intently monitoring their consoles. The "big board" showed the geography of the world, with the projected flight path of the shuttle snaking across the map, with one end anchored in the middle of Texas.

The next few minutes passed quickly with various routine checks and tests being run. As the clock approached T minus 2 minutes, Carl prepared to make the final Check For Launch. He expected to get a "go" for launch, since any major problem that could halt the launch would have been brought to his attention as the Mission Controller. But things can always happen at the last minute. He sipped his tea again, watching the clock. As it hit 00:02:00 he keyed his mic.

"We're at T minus 2 minutes, all stations say if 'go' for launch. Medical?"

"Go."

"Communications?"

"Go."

"Flight?"

"Go."

"Payload?"

"Go."

"Data?"

"Go."

"Electrical?"

"Go."

"Environmental?"

"Go."

"Propulsion?"

"Go."

"Guidance?"

"Go."

"Mechanical?"

"Go."

"Fuel?"

"Go."

"All right folks, we're go for launch. T minus 1 minute 40 seconds." Carl took another sip of his tea.

The final word came from Harrison Command, 'Let that Bird Soar!', which was Jacob Bahroons way of saying make every final check and preperation now. The final clamps on the base of the shuttle keeping it to Earth Disconnected leaving only one thing to do, the guys at Strickland had to push the Go Button.

T-minus 40 seconds.

Lone Star 2, Launch Pad "B", Harrison Launch Facility, Pablicosta

As the countdown passed T minus 30 seconds most of the functions for launching the shuttle became automated and were handled by the computers at Mission Control. One final step in the launch sequence, however, was completely out of the computer loop. Commander Hongos, in the cockpit of the shuttle itself, was in charge of starting the engines. The Texas space program had many times looked at ways to streamline and automate all aspects of space flight, but the conservative minded Texans just couldn't find it within themselves to take the responsibility of starting the motors away from the man flying the ship. Especially not in the case of giving that to a silicon-hearted computer.

So Commander Hongos waited patiently yet with tense excitement as he listened to the mission controller's calm voice as he counted down the last remaining seconds.

"T minus 20 seconds."

"T minus 15 seconds."

"T minus 10…"

"…9…"

"…8…"

"…7, and go for main engine start!"

Hongos took a deep breath and flipped the switch, closing the circuit which would activate the starter and ignite the primary engines, as well as the solid rocket boosters.

Miles away, at the grandstand viewing area, relatives, employees, reporters and dignitaries first heard the deep rumble of the shuttles engines kick on. The countdown clock was passing 6 seconds. The audience could then see the billows of smoke boiling up from beneath the shuttle as the engines built up to the amount of thrust needed to lift the vehicle into the air. The sound drowned out Carl Harding's voice as it came over the PA system, ticking off the seconds.

"…4…"

"…3…"

"…2…"

Commander Hongos felt a slight shudder in the shuttle as the thrust began to reach the point where it would lift the massive weight. Even as he became aware, he was slowly yet irresistably shoved back into his couch as Lone Star 2 began to lift clear of the pad.

Control Room 2, Strickland Space Center, Webster, Greenspoint

Even as the crowd in the Harrison grandstand began to cheer, Carl continued speaking.

"… zero! And we have liftoff! At 3:04 PM Texas Time, Texas Space Shuttle Lone Star 2 has cleared the launch pad nad is on its way into orbit with the first component of the NewAlamo Space Station, and a single module of the Texas Star Wars Missile Defense System!"

Cheers broke out around him in the control room as the main screen displayed the glorious sight of the shuttle shooting skyward atop a column of fire and smoke.

The crowds cheered violently as the grand shuttle glowed with a bright yellow colour, pouring over the entire front of the the vehicle as it proppeled itself through the Atmosphere. The giant red solid fuel rockets had fallen now, crashing down not far from the launch site at Harrison. The giant splash that was emitted when they landed in the lake drew the attention of many spectators, and by the time they looked back to the glorius shuttle;The culmination of Jacob and Carl's hard work, it had gone. They could still see the billowing smoke trail, but the shuttle itself had left that behind and was now headed for its Orbit position.

Control Room 2, Strickland Space Center, Webster, Greenspoint

The mission clock read T plus 00:07:42 as Carl glanced at it. The Lone Star 2 was now at an altitude of over 60 miles and was 752 miles downrange, traveling at a relative velocity of over 13,000 miles per hour. The SRB's had separated from the vehicle at T plus 00:02:12, when the vehicle was 30 miles up, and were just about to splash down into the Gulf of Texas where they'd be retrieved by ships from the Greenspoint Navy. As the mission clock approached T plus 00:08:02, Carl spoke into his headset mic.

"LS2, stand by for main engine cutoff in thirty seconds."

"Roger that, control," the voice of Commander Hongos came across Carl's headset, and the speakers throughout the room. With his eye on the mission clock as it counted up to 00:08:32, he noticed out of the corner of his eye someone come through the door and head in his direction. As the time passed 08:20 he recognized Josiah Reese, the Communications Officer for the entire facility. Carl motioned for him to wait in response to his attempt to get Carl's attention. As the mission clock reached T plus 00:08:31 Carl spoke again.

"LS2, go for main engine cutoff."

"Roger, go for main engine cutoff," Hongos' voice replied. After a second another voice was heard on the circuit.

"We confirm main engine cutoff at T plus 8 minutes 32 seconds." The voice was that of Michael Maldonado, the propulsion team controller. "Good job, LS2, looks like you hit it perfectly," Maldonado continued. Carl checked the mission clock again.

"LS2, stand by for main tank separation in twenty seconds."

"Standing by, control."

"Guidance, confirm flight profile and say if 'go' for main tank separation."

"Flight profile is right on the money and we're 'go' for separation, control," the voice of Al Banks, the guidance team controller responded.

"Roger guidance." Another glance at the mission clock. "LS2, you are go for main tank separation."

"Roger, go for main tank separation." Seconds later the confirmation came from Brent Morton, fuel team controller.

"We confirm main tank separation at… T plus 8 minutes 54 seconds."

Carl broke into a relieved smile for the first time in a day and a half. "Well done LS2, we show you in the proper orbit at an altitude of 74 miles, relative velocity of 16,668 miles per hour." Cheers broke out in the control room again. "Y'all take a break up there, we'll be back to ya after awhile."

"Roger that control," Commander Hongos' voice said. "We'll get the video feed up and running and begin the post-launch diagnostics."

Carl removed his headset and leaned back, stretching the soreness out of his lower back. A figure loomed up next to him. He looked up at Reese and smiled. "What's up, Joe?"

"This," Reese answered, handing Carl a sheet of paper. "This message came in about 5 minutes ago, but it's addressed to Jacob Bahroon. Thought you might need to see it." Reese looked troubled. Carl sat back up and started reading.

"Dear sir, we have indicated a severe problem in the computer systems… HO type trojan virus… malfunction was intentionally caused… complete control over the shuttle… now holds the entire hemisphere…"

What the hell? Sabotage? A virus? Carl frowned, thinking furiously. Who was this Quendior Morquen? He'd never even heard of the Confederacy of Trentuar. Carl doubted seriously that anybody could get a virus into the shuttle, the computer systems on board and at Harrison were all stand alone. Carl thought about it some more, but couldn't imagine how it could happen, but he also knew that wasn't his area of expertise. He put his headset back on.

"Gwen," Carl said, addressing the communications team controller. "Get me a direct, and secure, link to Jacob at Harrison." He looked up at Reese. "Forward this to Jacob, would ya?"

Reese nodded and hurried to an alcove behind the control consoles, where Carl knew there was an auxiliary communications setup.

Bahroon had left the control room as soon as the vehicle lifted out of its range, taking himself outside to watch the glow fade into the darkness. His shift manager Jo Higgoh came to him outside holding a headset with a blue flashing light on it. That made Jacob think this was from an un-recognised caller ID, 'Maybe the system is screwed?' he thought to himself, 'Not recognising the number?'. Higgoh stood still and said 'It's Strickland Sir, they say its urgent'. Jacobs face sank and a cold breeze felt like ti was attacking him. 'Give it here, thanks Jo', the pair saluted with very little effort-the traditionalist appraoch had long since left Harrison Space facility. 'Strickland? Jocob Bahroon, Harrison Space Facility, whats up?'

Control Room 2, Strickland Space Center, Webster, Greenspoint

"Jacob!" Carl said into his headset mic. "I'm forwarding a message that arrived here for you, alerting us to the possibility that someone planted a very nasty virus in the onboard computers of the LS2."

"What?" Jacob's voice sounded… well, not shocked, more outraged. "That's impossible!" he continued. "There's no direct interface, no way for a virus to enter the system. Who sent you this warning?" Carl could hear the mounting anger in Jacob's voice. Not anger so much at the possibility of a virus but at the implication that his system could have been compromised. It was a matter of pride.

"Someone in the Confederacy of Trentaur. Ever heard of them?"

"Never." Jacob was silent for a minute.

"Jacob, are you absolutely certain of the security of the system?" Carl had to ask, even though he knew what the answer would be.

"Yes, Carl, 100%! The telemetry downlinks are all one-way from the shuttle. In order to install a virus in that system would require actually getting into the vehicle and accessing one of the data ports." Jacob was silent again, but Carl was busy trying to imagine another entry vector for a virus. He couldn't dismiss the message from Trentaur out of hand, much as he would like to. They'd received numerous threats and warnings at each launch in the past, all of which, so far, had proven to be false. But that didn't mean this one was false. Jacob was the guru of the Shuttle's computer system, though. If he said it couldn't be done, it probably couldn't be done.

"What does the message say, exactly?" Jacob's voice cut into Carl's thoughts.

"You should have a copy of it momentarily." Carl rubbed his forehead, then reached around to that ever-present knot of tension in his neck. He really didn't need this kind of hassle, but visions of the Galdagan Shuttle Corona kept playing in his mind. If there were a virus on board, that would be an attack as sure as if someone had fired a missile at the vehicle. Carl made a decision, the only one he could really make, despite Jacob's assurances.

"Jacob," Carl said, "I'm going to have Major Hongos run a complete diagnostic on the computer system and the base code, just to be safe." He went on past the objection Jacob started to voice. "It'll only delay payload deployment by a couple of hours at most, and I'm sure he'll find nothing, based on what you've said, but I don't see that we can take the chance." He paused, waiting for Jacob's outburst.

It never came.

"You're right, Carl," Jacob said. "Even I would have him do that, knowing as I do that there's no possible way anyone could have infected the LS2's system." Carl heard Jacob talking to someone at his end of the connection. "I've just ordered a complete security check at our end too. I said it's impossible to get a virus into the system, but, as I also said, someone actually in the vehicle could have done it. We're going to run a check on the tapes from the security cams and log sheets. I'll get back to you soonest."

Before Carl could acknowledge, Jacob cut the link. Carl let out yet another deep sigh. He keyed his mic over to the main channel.

"LS2, this is control."

"Go ahead control," Hongos' voice answered.

"Tim, I'm ordering a level 1 diagnostic of the computer system, with a check of the base OS code as well."

"Acknowledged, control." Hongos' tone carried all the questions he wouldn't dream of actually voicing.

"We have received a so far unconfirmed report that there may be a nasty virus in the system, Tim. I need to know for sure, absolutely, before we deploy the payload.

"All right Carl," Hongos sounded a bit subdued at the thought of what a virus could do to the vehicle he was piloting 80 miles above Texas. "We'll get right on it."

A scheduled launch of Texas Space Shuttle Lone Star 2 ...


OOC: Isn't "Lone Star 2" a contradiction in terms?

OOC: Isn't "Lone Star 2" a contradiction in terms?

:p One might think so, but... no. :p

'Carrol' called Jacob, 'It seems we may have a problem'.

Carrol aproached the raised position of Bahroon and asked what was going on, only to be hit by another question; 'Is this site COMPLETELY isolated electronically?'

Carrol stuttered for a moment at the questions 'Er, Yes Jacob, tottaly secure-after Geneva VI had that Infultrated power cut we had the place made as secure as possible-including electrics'.

'Right' said Jacob as he scratched his head, 'So there is no direct links from here to anywhere else?'

'Well actually' proposed Carrol with a face clenching, so tight that Jacob new this was bad news, 'The only link is the code link to Strickland'.

'But thats secure yeah?'

'As secure as we can make it, its all encrypted lock down files-every file sent is password protected on three levels and deleted itself if the wrong password is entered once. It also tracks itself so we can detect if the loop is tampered with.'

'So it could be tampered with?'

'Theoreticaly yes'

'All a terrorist needs is theory carrol. Lander V learned that!'

Jacob linked up his headset to Strickland and began telling the whole story of how it is possible to get into the code if the Internet connection is attacked with great skill, and how he had dispatched a MP brigade to check out every inch of that line to the border.

Jacob called into Strickland with a quick message;

'Were waiting on the news of that diagnostic sweep Strickland, any news yet?'

Jacob stood up and walked to his communications corner. Hours since they should have finished the diagnostics and still nothing from those guys at Strickalnd... He said to himself as he paced the 3 metres in the corner. He picked up the headset and spoke.

Strickland, this is Harrison SLF, do you read me?.............Strickland, this is Harrison SLF Do you read me?!?...............................................Strickland Command Center, This is Harrison Space Vehicle Launch Facility, Come in!!!..................Damnit Strickland Come in...Arghh!

The line was overcome by static for some reason at this point, but it was clear Strickland could not hear anything.

Jacob pushed the switch on the comms from Strickland to LONE STAR.

Lone Star 2, this is Harrison Space Vehicle Launch Facility, do You read me?

Harrison, this is Lone Star 2, we read you loud and clear.

Thank God Lone Star. We've lost contact with Strickland, have you got communication with them?

Not recently Harrison, we lost contact a few hours ago. We thought it was a Sunspot or something, obviously not.

Indeed not Lone Star. Could you try and communicate with Strickland for me.

Affirmative Harrison, bringing Outbound Comms online...

Thanks, Get back to me.

Jacob put the receiver down and stepped over to his blue phone.

Hello, get me the Security Office, I need a check ASAP. Its Harrison.

---Please Wait One Moment---

.................

Hello, Harrison? Whats your problem?

G'day Sir. I think we may have a security breach. We recieved threats a few days ago which I have faxed to your office. We checked it out and found nothing, the shuttle is running a diagnostics but now we have lost comms with Strickland through both lines. So has Lone Star. I'v tried both satelites and neither can get a signal to Strickland, is there any chance you could fly someone their fast and find out whats going on?

Gee Harrison its more of an order, we can't let the Program get jeopodised. I'l send a jet over now, and I'l get some Paratrooper jets over with it, we'll find your problem.

Well, seeing as Strickland may or may not have been hit, any chance we could have some security here?

Sure thing Harrison. The SAM Operational Awareness code is 55258 A4, Red Key left. I'l also send a some hardware to watch that place from the base, we got you covered.

Thanks Commander. If you'll excuse me, I have to catch up with Lone Star's diagnostics.

Sure thing Harrison.



Jacob hung up and jogged over to the main control desk where he flipped open a pannel marked SAM!, sheilding a numerical code system. 55258 A4 he keyed in and took the red key from his pocket, put it in the left lock and turned it left...Beeep Beep! The SAM systems lifted from the ground arround the facility and began scanning the skies, they were online and ready. Then he headed over to the comms corner.

Lone Star, do you read me?

Yes Harrison, we read you Loud and Clear.

Do you have Strickland?

Negative Harrison, communication with Strickland is negative.

Damnit! I'v got a fleet of jets en-route to them to check it out and all our systems are GO here to defend us and keep us online. Best bet for you is to proceed with the mission, we don't want to miss the re-entry window. Lone Star, untill we have communication with Strickland we are taking control of this mission indefinatley.

Affirmative Harrison.

Good, now. Have you completed diagnostics?

Yes command, and I can confirm that their is nothing wrong with this vehicle. We managed to find our orbit just fine, and we can hear you. All the virus sweeps were fine and everything seems dandy-ready to proceed with the mission on your command Harrison.

You have my command Lone Star, begin primary deployment stage. Get yourselfs into the right position and get back to me when your ready.

Affirmative Harrison, preparing for first stage deployment.

Control room 2, Strickland Space Center, Webster, Greenspoint

Carl Harding ran his hand through his hair in the now almost legendary gesture he'd unconsciously developed during times of great stress.

"Oh Gwen," he called across to the normally stunning yet now befrazzled redhead. "How's the comm situation now?" His tone carried a large portion of the frustration he was feeling despite his attempts to conceal it. Everybody at GASA was doing everything they could to fix the 'problem' before it turned into a real 'situation', but so far the results had been less than breathtaking.

Gwen's glance over her shoulder towards Carl's station could have melted adamantium into slag. "The situation has not changed." … Since the last time you asked, three minutes ago! she didn't say, but Carl heard it in her tone anyway. He grimaced. We can put a shuttle into orbit, but we can't maintain a freaking landline connection to Pablicosta! he thought disgustedly. He shook his head at the absuridty of it all.

"…kland, PLEASE come in! Harrison SLF to Strickland, do you read me?" The voice was faint and tinny, and it took a second for Carl to react. When he did it was with a Whoop! as he scooped up his headset and held it in place.

"This is Strickland, Harrison, read you loud and clear! That you Jacob?"

"Carl!" Jacob Bahroon sounded almost as frustrated as Carl felt. "What the hell is going on over there?"

"Not quite sure, Jake, but it really 'barred up our comms. Seems we have it fixed now."

"We were beginning to think you'd been attacked. I've got Harrison on full alert, all anti-air batteries on line ready to shoot down anything that comes in uninvited." A slight pause. "Plus, you will be having visitors in a few minutes."

Carl was about to ask who when he got the answer.

"Incoming aircraft," Harry Betts, liason with the Greenspoint Air Force announced, "challenging the tower, demanding to land. They say they're a rapid response rescue team."

"Jacob! A rapid response rescue? Don't you think that's a bit over the top?" Carl actually smiled, the first time in almost 15 hours.

"Look," Jacob defended himself. "I had no idea what was going on. Lone Star couldn't raise you, all I could get was static on any channel. On the heels of that virus warning, what was I to think?"

Carl shrugged, then said "Well, it seems we've got things fixed on this end. Telemetry is coming back in, and our Big Board is finally updated. I assume from what I see that the diag on Two's computer came up negative and y'all were continuing deployment?"

"Yeah," Jacob said. "But since you're back in the loop I'll turn command back over to you. You are going to stay in the loop, aren't you?"

"Yes Jake," Carl nodded. "I'm getting a thumbs up from Gwen. Seems our own intensive check into security is what caused the comm failure. Someone threw a switch in one of the substations that shouldn't have been thrown. We're good to go. I think that message about the virus was just a crackpot hoax, someone's bad idea of a joke."

"Ok," Jacob said. "We'll continue monitoring from our end. Good luck with deployment."

"Thanks Jake," Carl said. He switched his commset back over to the general channel.

"Ok folks, we're back up and running the show. Col. Hongos, do you copy?"

"Roger that Strickland, glad to have you back with us."

Carl checked the updated mission clock. "Ok Tim, we've got 34 minutes to get Two into the right attitude to deploy the NewAlamo command module. Let's get navigation in the loop here and we'll get you oriented properly."

"Roger, Strickland. Lone Star 2 is standing by."

==========================================

BB12: GNS Bexar, Gulf of Texas

Standing on the port flying bridge of the largest battleship in the Greenspoint Navy, Captain Myron Jarrett watch through high-powered binoculars as the heavy cruiser James Sculthorpe continued to recover the external fuel tank which was the shuttle's key to carrying enough fuel to get into orbit. The swell of the Gulf was a piddling 6 feet, with a light southwesterly breeze and almost no cloud cover. What a glorious day to be at sea. Jarrett stepped back into the main bridge of his ship and glanced around. Lt. Cmdr. Sykes was standing near the sonar station observing the recovery of the tank on a live video feed coming from the Sculthorpe. The sonar operator was glancing up occasionally at the TV monitor, also, though he was, mostly, tending to his duties. Jarrett smiled indulgently. This was a proud time to be a Texan. He didn't think such a slight distraction would be harmful. Not much for the sonar operator to miss, anyway. A large battlegroup such as the one centered around the Bexar made a lot of noise. And it tended to scare away the more cautious submarine commanders of those inferior navies out there. If there were anything down there for the sonar operator to see, it would have had to get past a double ring of anti-submarine aircraft and destoryers, as well as a screen of cruisers, all of which were constantly on the lookout for just such an intruder on which to practice dropping depth charges other anti-sub munititions. No, Jarrett thought, there's not a submarine within 200 miles of this battlegroup. He stepped over next to Sykes to get a better view of the TV monitor.

============================================

Underneath the Bexar Battlegroup, Gulf of Texas

A sleek black shape slipped quietly through the warm Gulf waters, easily keeping station almost directly beneath the biggest of the ships noisily cruising along the surface 200 feet above. The sonar operator had each of the ships in the formation clearly mapped out on his waterfall display, while the fire control team had translated that information to a two-dimensional chart of the Gulf itself. The captain watched indulgently as the various teams plotted missile and torpedo courses and times to impact for each vessel. This was something they did by rote, for any and every vessel they came in contact with. To be able to shadow such a large battlegroup and set up firing solutions like this was a sheer joy for most of them.

The captain had been nervous about the meneuvers he'd had to go through to get inside the battlegroup's screen and under the central ship undetected. But he'd managed it. As they took up their station with no response from any of the surface ships, the bridge crew let out a very quite, even whispered, cheer. Their boat was the best in the navy, and they knew it. The captain checked the clock and looked at the chart. Just another 10 hours and they would be able to put the missile launch crew through the actual paces of launch. Won't [b]that[b] be a surprise for those boys on the battleship up there? The captain smirked at the thought.

Control room 2, Strickland Space Center, Webster, Greenspoint

"Roger that, Strickland. We are green across the board, standing by for
deployment."

"Strickland copies you standing by Two. Take a short break while we put
the finishing touches on things down here," Carl Harding acknowledged Major
Tim Hongos' transmission as he glanced up at the big clock. It had only
been an hour since they'd sent the rapid response rescue team on their way,
and gotten Lone Star 2 into the proper orbit and orientation for the
deployment of the NewAlamo's Command Module, but damn it felt like it'd
been months! In that hour they'd had to: deal with a faulty relay which
delayed the nav burn for 10 minutes, fix a glitch in the programming that
kept the cargo bay doors from opening, and remove a chunk of ice from the
Cargo Deployment Arm which had required a quick EVA by one of the mission
specialists to accomplish.

Now everything seemed to be ready, and Carl, feeling the full weight of his
responsibility, needed to take a quick breather before the next step in the
mission. He unconsciously ran his hand through his hair as he took a deep
breath and surveyed the control room. He didn't focus on any one thing or
person, just tried to take it all in at once, to get a sense of the big
picture. He'd switched from coffee to hot English tea twenty minutes
earlier, and he frowned as he realized his cup was now empty. He thought
about getting a refill, but noticed that several of the other controllers
were watching him from their seats. He looked around. No, almost all of
them were watching him. Well of course they're watching you. The next
move can't go until you say so, he told himself. Stop stalling and
let's get this thing done!

He took another deep breath. "Ok folks, as one very wise man once said,
'Ain't nuthin' to it but to do it!' Let's get this thing online!" He saw
several heads nod, and a muted cheer went up quietly from a couple of the
telemetry guys in the front of the room. Carl smiled.

"Col. Hongos, this is Strickland. Proceed with deployment of the NewAlamo
Command Module," he said over the all stations channel.

"Roger that, Strickland, " Major Tim Hongos voice came over the line.
"Commencing deployment."

Carl sat back and watched as several indicator lights on his master board
turned green as Lone Star 2 began the task of placing the large piece of
equipment into its precise orbit. Whichever mission specialist was
actually handling the controls up there knew what he was doing. It was
like a robotic ballet watching the live feed from the cargo bay camera as
the long boom of the CDA began to lift the Command Module clear of its
mooring position in the bay. He was interrupted by a felt presence near
his right shoulder. He turned and looked up into the face of Gwen, her
copper hair more disheveled than ever. Carl smiled up at her.

"Hey," she said with an answering smile.

"Hey."

"How come you keep calling Tim 'Colonel' when he's a Major?" she asked with
a perplexed smile on her face, yet with a twinkle in her eye that showed
she expected it was some sort of inside joke.

"Cause I'm a Bowie fan."

She frowned at him, not understanding.

"Ground Control to Major Tom?" he prompted. She still didn't get it. "If
I keep calling him Major, I'm going to eventually slip and call him Tom
instead of Tim. And he hates Bowie."

Light dawned on Gwen's face, and she smiled and nodded. "Want some more
tea?" she offered.

"Sure, thanks."

Carl watched her as she took the empty cup over to the coffee bar at the
back of the control room. He turned back to the video feed as she was
pouring more tea. Things are looking up he thought to himself.

Operations Deck, Texas Space Shuttle Lone Star 2, Earth Orbit

Mission Specialist Daniel Ruffner calmly and confidently worked the controls of the CDA as he progressed with the task of placing the NewAlamo command module into its primary orbit. He unconsciously hummed to himself while he was working, unaware that this was severely annoying the other two members of the Lone Star 2 crew working near him.

He really really REALLY enjoyed what he was doing. His hands worked the control levers almost of their own accord as he reflected on his sheer exhuberance at being picked for this mission. When he’d emigrated from the Kingdom of Grays Harbor to the newly purchased Crown Colony of Channelview the previous year, he’d had no idea that it would be so easy for him to get into the Greenspoint Aeronautic and Space Administration’s astronaut program. The law had said that Channelview citizens were to be treated as Greenspoint citizens for any such national program. The fact that the law didn’t differentiate between native Channelviewers and legal emigres from the KGH presented the GASA administration, and the Greenspoint State Department, with a loophole that they quickly shut, but not before the Senior Leftenant in the RAF was able to secure his place.

Once into the program, he’d clearly shown his aptitude and skill for working in freefall, and had been at the top of the list for the next mission. Now here he was, working on perhaps the greatest adventure in Texas history since the Battle of San Jacinto. Certainly one for the record books.

He watched the coordinates shift as the CDA extended into space, with the large command module held firmly in its robotic grip. It was slow going because of the large mass of the module. The entire task was going to take upwards of another 90 minutes before---

“Daniel!” the husky contralto voice said from right next to his ear, almost causing his heart to stop. “If you don’t stop humming God Save the Queen in a continuous loop, I’m going to strangle you.” Ruffner turned and looked at Mission Specialist Lita Ford. The young astrophysicist and quantum mechanic was a fully tenured professor at North Hendrixston University in Bangon, but that didn’t mean that Ruffner doubted she’d carry through on her threat. No, more like a promise from her. And the fact that there was no malice at all in her tone of voice just made it seem all the more ominous to him. He could feel his face burning as he blushed.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered, with a sheepish grin. He’d imagined having her face this close to his on several occasions since they’d met only six weeks ago. That made his face burn even more, and he turned back to the CDA controls, hoping she hadn’t seen. He could hear the other man on the deck, Lt. Cmdr. James McPearson from the Ukroatian Air Force, chuckling as Lita moved back to her station.

“Something a bit more contemporary would be nice is you just MUST hum,” she said. “Know any Steve Stone Band stuff?”

Oh Lord, Ruffner thought. Steve Stone Band? That’s the worst excuse for music short of that rap stuff. Ruffner’s actual reply was cut off before he could even open his mouth.

“Lone Star 2, this is Strickland. The CDA has stopped moving. Is there a problem?” Ruffner recovered his composure.

“No problem, Strickland,” Ruffner answered. “Just.. uh.. had to get a new grip on the levers. This is long work.”

“Roger that Two. Best to take a little more time and do it right, eh?”

“That’s affirmative, Strickland. Recommencing deployment now.” Ruffner paid close attention once more to the coordinate readout of the CDA. He paid closer attention to his humming.

***

Ninety-five minutes later the coordinates were at their prescribed values. Ruffner heaved a sigh of relief and stepped away from the console to work some of the tension out of his shoulders. Mission Commander Hongos was talking to ground control.

“Roger Strickland. The NewAlamo Command Module is fully deployed and we are standing by to release the CDA.” Hongos was on the command deck of the shuttle, but his voice was clear through the radios in the operations deck console.

“Strickland copies that Two. You are go for CDA release, at your convenience.”

“Anytime your ready down there, Daniel,” Major Hongos said over the intercom. “I don’t need to tell you to make damn sure that module has absolutely no delta V relative to the ship, do I?”

“No sir, you don’t,” Ruffner answered. He knew how important it was that the command module of the space station be perfectly stationary alongside the shuttle for the next phase of the mission. That meant that he had to be even more careful with releasing the grip of the CDA than he had been in placing the module in the first place. The slightest bump of the grip as it let go would give the module just enough relative motion that it would go floating away, either into a higher orbit or down to a fiery death in the atmosphere. It would take more fuel for Lone Star 2 to catch up to the module in either event than they had in their reserves for the landing.

Ruffner had worked most of the kinks out of his neck and shoulders and was ready for this next important task. Lita looked over at him.

“Daniel, if you need to hum, go ahead.” She smiled at him, and he smiled his thanks to her.

He took hold of the controls of the CDA, double checking the geospatial coordinates on the module, and the force readings on the CDA itself. Everything was motionless. He slowly squeezed the trigger mechanism that would cause the robotic grip to open. The video camera at the end of the CDA showed the grip clearly, and Ruffner saw the jaws of the grip slowly part as he applied the pressure. He kept it up until the jaws were at their fullest extent. At this point, for all intents and purposes, the command module was falling around the planet as a separate entity from the shuttle. But Ruffner knew he still needed to retract the CDA. He confidently worked the controls which slid the CDA away from the module, and clear of any possibility of nudging it. Without the large mass in the grip, the CDA moved a lot faster than on the deployment, and in a mere five minutes he had the CDA back in its cradle in the cargo bay, and the NewAlamo command module was alone in space.

Major Hongos’ voice came across the radio. “CDA release is confirmed, Strickland. Standing by for EVA to commence NewAlamo power up.”

“We copy CDA release, Two. You have a go for the EVA.” The cheers of the ground control crew could be clearly heard over the link.

“Nice job, Daniel,” Hongos’ voice came across the intercom. “Time for that EVA, folks.”

James McPearson looked around. “Guess that means me, huh?” The crew moved to the airlock hatch that led into the cargo bay to assist McPearson with his EVA suit.

***

Fifteen minutes later, McPearson was exiting the airlock into the hard vacuum of space. Standing within the cargo bay he could look “up” and see the command module clearly. “Ok, here goes nothing,” he muttered, as he activated the thruster on his EVA pack and began the slow journey across the gulf between the two vehicles.

As he landed on the side of the module near the hatch, he heard Major Hongos’ voice. “Ok, James, you have ten minutes to get inside and get the power online. You need to use the module’s thrusters to bring its delta V back to zero.”

“I’m on it, boss,” McPearson said. He cycled the hatch and climbed into the module. The interior was dark, but his suit lamps provided plenty of light. I don’t know why we didn’t power the module up before we turned it loose he thought. That idea probably made too much sense to the gov’mint bureaucrats. Oh well, it all pays the same. As the module slowly drifted away from Lone Star 2, McPearson worked his way to the command console at the center of the module. Hopefully everything was working properly and it fired right up. If it didn’t, he’d have to get out of the module within those ten minutes so he’d still be close enough to the shuttle to fly back. Otherwise he’d be returning home to Ukroatia in a blazing streak of light across the sky.

He got to work on entering the computer codes that would bring the NewAlamo finally to life.

Control Room 2, Strickland Space Center, Webster, Greenspoint

The way the mission had been going, Carl Harding had expected... well, he wasn't sure what he'd expected, but he'd felt sure it would have involved a lot of stressful sweating, high blood pressure, and tension so thick it could be cut by a knife. But it was just a little over three minutes after Lt. Cmdr. McPearson had entered the NewAlamo Command Module when his voice came across the radio.

"Batteries are charged and online, Two. I'm powering up all systems now and should have station keeping thrusters in 30 seconds."

Carl felt the tension that hadn't quite built up flow away in relief. Major Hongos' voice replied to McPearson.

"We copy that James. We're ready for CPU boot up and transponder signal acquisition. Two standing by."

After an eternity that was only four minutes by the clock, McPearson's voice came again.

"Two, the Command Module is back on station and holding position relative. Commencing CPU boot up."

Hongos acknowledged, and Carl waited another two minutes as high above, the Command Module's main computer came online and ran several internal systems checks. Then:

"Two, I'm ready to bring the transponder online."

"Roger that McPearson," Hongos' voice answered. "Stand by. Strickland, this is Lone Star 2, standing by to enable NewAlamo transponder. At your command." Carl looked around. This is it, he thought. He glanced around at the various controllers at their consoles on the main floor of the room. Those that were looking his way nodded when he locked eyes with them. He took a deep breath.

"You are go to enable transponder, Two."

"Roger that, Strickland. You heard the man James, hit the switch!"

And just that suddenly, there were two space vehicles displayed on the main tracking plot on the front wall of the control room. Carl checked the clock, then spoke into his all channels link.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, at 28 minutes past the hour of 3:00 PM, Texas Space
Station NewAlamo is officially in orbit and online." Cheers almost drowned him out as the controllers in the room burst into applause.

40 meters beneath the Bexar Battlegroup, Gulf of Texas

In the CIC just aft of the main control room, the submarine commander turned as the sensor technician looked up. "There it is, sir." He pointed at the new light code on the screen, now tagged "NewAlamo".

The commander nodded. He checked the time. "A little behind schedule, but close enough to on time as doesn't matter." He walked over to the intercom and spoke.

"Missile room, begin prepping birds 3 and 4 for launch."

"Aye aye!" came the reply. The commander switched to PA mode.

"Exec to the CIC." the commander called. He turned back to the main plot that showed the battlegroup sailing along above him. They'd be getting a surprise soon. He just hoped his boat didn't get too beat up trying to get away after the surprise was sprung.

"Daniel, I've been meaning to ask you a question. A couple of them actually." Lita said, looking across the small bit of aluminium that passed for a "dinner table" onboard the space station.

"OK?" he said, swallowing what was in his mouth, and making a 'go ahead' gesture with his hand

"Well, You're a lieutenant, right? But when I checked the bio's of who was going to be on the mission before we left, it said you're a Major. Whats up with that?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing really. In the RAF, a Senior Leftenant is the equivelant of what you call a major. Our rank structure is similar, but the titles are a bit differant is all. A bit confusing I suppose, when you get used to your own ranks, I guess. Actually, Major Hongo's rank had ME a bit confused as back in the Kingdom only the army and marines use the rank of major, but there its the same as what you call a leftenant colonel, so our own majors actually out rank yours!" He replied around a bite of the concentrated paste that passed for dinner, and reminded him a bit of trying to consume a tube of toothpaste. "You said you had a couple of questions?"

"Umm, yeah, I guess I did" Lita answered, looking a bit sheepish, "Uh, I don't know how to ask this without sounding all uptight and all, but ......... whats with all the humming??"

"Oh, That! I don't know, its just a habit I picked up in flight school, I think. Some pilots talk to themselves, others flex their fingers on the control stick alot, its just my way of concentrating, I guess. I don't even realize I'm doing it half the time. I did try to quit once back when I was a brand new Pilot Officer, thats like a 2nd Leftenant in your services. I had just converted to Gladiators, our primary fighter. One day I was on a routine flight with my flight leader, getting to know the ropes, when a general radio signal came across to all aircraft flying from the control tower saying that "the commanding general was in the tower and whoever was doing the piss-poor imitation of a bloody starling can cease and desist right now!". It seemed that while humming I had accidently keyed my own com and was broadcasting to the entire wing!"

"Oh, My!" Lita managed to get out around a startled burst of laughter, "Did they ever find out it was you?"

"Fortunately for my backside, no. The Wing CG at the time was a bit of a stickler when itcame to proper radio procedure, and I had broken vitually every 'commandment' he had for it! I made a very conscious effort for a while to keep a low profile."

"I imagine you did." She laughed again, "One more, then thats all, I promise. How did you get into the Space Program for Greenspoint?"

"Well, I had just volunteered for the new wing forming for Channelview and was set to become a Squadron XO, plus I liked the climate here and planned on becoming a colonial citizen when I heard about the program. I checked with our admin types and they told me I could apply without loosing my commision, rather tike a temporay-duty assignment, plus, the Greenspoint government had opened their slots to any Channelviewers since we had previously been a part of Greenspoint. I expect they thought they woulfd just get Texas-Channelviewers applying. I don't believe they expected the small flood of Harberian-Channelviwer applications. They must have liked what they saw in my records jacket, and I was invited to take a battery of tests and physicals and such. Out of 43 applications, only 4 of us made the cut. The other three are set for future flights, as far as I know. I considered myself quite fortunate to be chosen for this one. I always thought flying Glads was the pinnacle, but frankly, they pale compared to this!"