“The Saturn VB has yet to fly,” Dana pointed out.

“I realize that.” Muldoon changed his foil. “But this is assumptive planning, Doctor; we do have time to remedy the problems in that area. Here’s how the mission would proceed. We would deliver, first, an enhanced S-II to orbit, empty. The S-II would be docked to a new facility, which we will call the Orbital Assembly Facility. This would be a simple affair, just struts and attitude motors; it would be put into an orbit close to Skylab.

“Next, supplementary fuel tanks would be orbited by unmanned VB launches. Each of these External Tanks will contain, when fully loaded, seven hundred tons of liquid hydrogen and oxygen, securely insulated. The tanks would be docked with the assembly facility. Pods of fuel will be brought up by subsequent Saturn VB flights, and dumped into the tanks and the S-II stage itself. In all we’ll need a minimum of ten Saturn VB launches. Remember, the whole purpose of the Saturn VB configuration is its reusability — we can refurbish the four Solid Rocket Boosters and fly them again — which will reduce costs per launch. We are already devising operational facilities which will allow fast pad turnaround and rapid refurbishment of flight articles. And we can combine the fuel-delivery flights with other objectives, such as the flight tests of the Mars Excursion Module. The MEM is the main undefined article, by the way; we’ll issue a Request For Proposals in a few weeks, if we get approval…”

Josephson orchestrated a series of follow-up presentations; there were tables and charts showing costings, development and testing timetables. The funding slides were based on the assumption that there would be an incremental program of test shots of the various components and configurations in cislunar space, leading up to an initial set of three operational missions. The presenters showed how the new technology could be extended beyond the first landings to be used for a return to the Moon, establishing a Mars base, orbital missions to Venus; the new program would serve as a base, not just for a one-shot Mars trip, but a new expansion into the Solar System.

Michaels’s jowly, politician’s face was free of expression as he listened; some of the time he sat with his eyes closed, almost as if he was falling asleep.

As the presentations closed, Michaels massaged the bridge of his nose and the pads of fat under his rheumy eyes.

He asked Muldoon to stay behind.

“You’ve done a damn good job, Joe. What you’ve brought me is convincing. And I’m already under pressure from the White House to come up with some such proposal as this.”

Muldoon felt his heart pump a little harder at that.

Michaels reached into his desk and pulled out a bottle of Kentucky bourbon and two glasses; he poured them both a shot. “Tell me what you think of NASA’s long-term plans.”

Muldoon thought it over, and began to frame a complex, considered answer. Then he decide to shortcut.

“What long-term plans?”

Michaels grunted. “You have that right. You have all kinds of goddamn schemes coming out of the think tanks in the centers. Well, that’s fine. But I’ve always resisted, hard, any demand for a firm long-term strategy for the Agency. In all my time here. You know why? Because there’s so much damned opposition to the manned space program. Always has been, always will be. And every plan I produce — every damn statement — is a political fall guy, just a target for the opposition to shoot at. I learned all this from Jim Webb, back in the sixties. Webb defended Apollo at all costs — even at the expense of its own sequel. He knew what success with Apollo would mean: even more, its failure or cancellation. That’s partly responsible for the mess we’re in now. But, Joe, we’ve got to learn the lesson. Even if it means we’re mortgaging the future…”

Michaels poured them more drinks and talked some more, about tactics, detailed aspects of the proposals, about obtaining support from the military, the aerospace industry, other lobbies.

Slowly, Muldoon began to figure out that Michaels was thinking aloud, groping for a way forward. He’s talking tactics. He may be tired, but he isn’t played out yet; he’s telling us what he’s going to have to do to make this happen. He’s buying it.

After Michaels’s meeting, Udet sought out Dana. “Dr. Dana. We must speak. At heart we two are, I believe, at one in our ambition.”

Dana’s voice was disconcertingly thin, his eyes unreadable behind his glasses. “Once I would have said so, I think. But, I am now not so sure. Now, I am prepared to accept that I will not see humans travel to Mars in my lifetime — if the attempt incurs unacceptable risk.”

Yes, yes. But you did, nevertheless, accept Muldoon’s invitation to participate in this task group. If the dream was so feeble in you as you protest, then you would not even be here.

Udet felt oddly exhilarated; he felt a surge of kinship, almost, with this odd, bitter little man. But the battle is won, Hans. Do not endanger it with recklessness.

Udet disregarded the prompting of caution.

“Dr. Dana. I think we must address what is unspoken between us. We have worked together, in our strange way, for many years now. And we have, despite personal difficulties, achieved great things. I will build this ship. And it will be a memorial to your son.”

Dana’s head swiveled, like a gun turret. “My son has no connection to you, Udet. Make no claim on him.”

“Of course not. I only meant—”

“And as for us, you and I — we have roots far deeper than you may believe.”

Udet felt a prickle of fear. “Tell me what you mean.”

“That I was at the Mittelwerk.”

Dana picked up his briefcase then and, with a curt nod, walked away.

All Udet’s exhilaration, his mood of triumph, drained away from him; he felt as if he had been toying, ignorantly, with a loaded pistol.

The Mittelwerk He was there; one of those invisible thousands. My God.

There may be no limit to the power which this absurd little man can wield over me.

After Michaels’s meeting, events began to move with a speed that stunned Muldoon.

There was predictable opposition to the new proposal from Leon Agronski of MIT. Agronski attacked NASA for continuing to give too much attention to manned spaceflight. And he raised economic objections. He had studies to show that whereas aerospace R D attracted 35 percent of the national effort into R D, it accounted for only 4 percent of the total value added by U.S. manufacturers to their raw materials.

But Michaels was ready with other evidence which argued that two-thirds of all economic growth from the Crash of 1929 to Sputnik was traceable to new technology; and that the return on investment on NASA was, by 1980, around 43 percent.

Agronski, as Michaels expected, also attacked the new program as bad science. Michaels responded by saying that NASA was planning to deliver several astronaut-months on Mars, for a fraction of the cost of Apollo, which had delivered just a few man-weeks on the Moon…

Meanwhile, on another front, Michaels started negotiations with the secretary of defense, who suspected — rightly — that Michaels was trying to siphon off some of the billions Reagan had promised on military spending. So Michaels had to get the endorsement of the DoD for this new civilian space effort.

But it wasn’t immediately obvious why such support should be forthcoming. Having seen the Soviets send up a whole series of low-orbit military Salyut flights, the DoD, and the USAF in particular, were fighting hard for a new program based on a restriction to low Earth orbit, for reconnaissance and other purposes, and maybe some accelerated experimentation with space-based weapons systems — such as anti-ICBM particle and projectile guns — that would fit in with Reagan’s broader strategic thinking.

Michaels offered consolations to the military people. He showed how the Mars mission’s technology — orbital refueling techniques, for instance — could be adapted to military uses. And military personnel and experiments could fly on the Mars program test flights.