Chapter 2: Cape Canaveral, Florida 2025

Kennedy Space Center, Launch Complex 36, Blue Origin, T-200

Sara was at LC-36 Mission Control several hours before dawn.  A time that is normally owned by the fauna of the region.  Gopher turtles, wild boar, and sometimes alligators could be seen exploring the human’s temporary modifications to their natural environment. They came out of hiding to be seen from a distance across the complex.  The complex was already brimming with an anxious energy that seemed to seep into every steel beam, every console in the control center, and every heart that beat within its walls. The Florida air was thick and warm, still shrouded in the remnants of night as New Glenn sat erect and loaded over the platform.  A launch like this, would only move forward within a narrow set of parameters, any of which being out of tolerance, such as wind, temperature, equipment issues, would result in a delay or a scrub. The team was winding their way through the checks and double checks of all the possible elements that indicated risk.  It was tedious and stressful, wicking away in small increments their stamina.

Already there had been several hour long delays for resolving minor issues.  One of the delays was triggered by an out of nominal RTD.  The resistance temperature detector was a sensor designed to measure the electrical resistance in a circuit.  As the temperature rises, so does the resistance (at a rate of .00385 Ohm/Ohm/°C).  This RTD was one of millions of sensors feeding data into the control room.  Any one of them that was ‘out of nominal’ would require a reset, a determination of risk, and a go or no-go decision from the team.  The latest of these minor issues had been resolved and everyone who had been anxiously waiting four hours, and the illusive next step, took a collective deep breath.

Inside the dimly lit mission control room, Sara felt her pulse quicken, the calm facade she wore like a uniform beginning to fray at the edges.  She pulled at her DBIS badge unconsciously reminding herself that she belonged there.  As the Payload Specialist, she’d been entrusted with the spacecraft’s sensitive cargo. Her mind buzzed with the implications, a steady hum of nervous energy that had been with her since the payload arrived, sealed and secured, wrapped in layers of confidentiality and security clearances. A mission like this was a rare and fragile thing, and she could feel the weight of that fragility in every corner of her being.

“Glenn is in startup,” came the steady voice of the Flow Director, Tom Centano, breaking the fragile quiet and grounding her back into the present. Sara’s gaze shifted to the launch monitors, where countdown, multiple video views of the New Glenn rocket were shown, basic telemetry information, and system readouts for each station.

Across the room, Mason Reeves, the Launch Director, was a steady presence, his eyes never leaving the central screen as he surveyed each detail. His voice was quiet but resolute as he announced, “Blue Origin Launch Director is ‘GO’ for launch.”

In the corner of the room, Mason watched the countdown with arms crossed, his face unreadable but for the slight narrowing of his eyes. He had spent months overseeing this launch, every detail prepped and triple-checked, yet the unease was unmistakable. Every team member knew it, though no one dared to voice it.  It was already incredible good luck that the team had not had more delays or even an outright scrub which were common for first launches.  The team would be delighted with the current status of a ‘GO’ for launch, even if some of them felt like it proceeding too normally thus they had missed something,

Sara clenched her hands as the last ten seconds ticked down. Sara ran the payload readiness checklist in her head the way some people recited psalms. Not because she didn’t trust her team…because she didn’t trust the universe. The room went still, breath suspended, as if the collective willpower of every person there would lift the rocket from the ground. 

Sara allowed herself a small exhale, glancing at Ellie beside her. Ellie was the Telemetry Analyst, a meticulous technician with the kind of attention to detail Sara admired but could never replicate. Even now, Ellie’s hands danced over her console with practiced ease, her focus unwavering as she processed the streams of data flooding in from the Glenn’s systems.

“T-minus 30 seconds,” Ellie intoned, her voice low and steady.

The choreography of the launch was simple.  Ten minutes of terror.  The New Glenn rocket would ignite, slowly rise into the air, turn on its back to gain orbital momentum, separate from the second stage or GS2 with the payload, and while GS1, the booster, returned to the Atlantic for a landing on the recovery ship Jacqueline (named after the founder’s mother), GS2 would continue accelerating towards Earth orbit with second stage engines firing for precise durations to achieve GTO.

Sara felt a surge of pride mixed with anticipation. She’d spent the last three years preparing for this moment, designing protocols, testing instruments, and verifying every parameter. She had the sense that this was a pivotal moment in her life. The Jovian system loomed large in her mind, a glittering promise on the other side of Jupiter, wrapped in its mysterious shroud of ice, rock, and valuable minerals that could one day fuel missions to yet unknown reaches of the solar system.  What was the payload going to do all the way out there?  Science on the alien oceans of Ganymede, Europa, or Callisto?  A private bid to be the first to find signs of alien life?

“T-minus 15 seconds,” came the voice from Tom to all stations, and she felt her heart clench in response.

To her right, Jackson Walsh, the Range Safety Officer, was leaning in close to his console, his sharp eyes flicking from screen to screen. His role was simple but unforgiving; watch for the slightest anomaly, the faintest hint of danger, and call a halt to everything if needed. Sara could see the tightness in his jaw, the readiness to intervene if anything went awry, but there was also a calm steadiness in him. Jackson was like a rock in the turbulent sea of the control center, unyielding and ever-present.  He was responsible for ensuring that if anything went wrong the rocket wouldn’t endanger anyone on the ground or in the vicinity.  That vicinity was a five-kilometer radius around the launch pad.  His role was focused on considering factors like the rocket's trajectory, potential debris paths, and downrange landing zones for the reusable first stage.

Jackson’s main tool to ensure the safety of everyone and everything within the range was the flight termination system or AFTS. The AFTS is the computer that controls the flight termination self-destruct assembly.  Essentially it is a kill switch.

A way to blow up the rocket before it can cause damage to anything else.  It works through a set of linear shaped charge explosives that tear holes in the LOX and LNG tanks so that the propellant and oxidizer mix and maximize the explosion, which in theory should minimize any debris that would fall back to earth.  As it is the only thing that can ensure the safety of ground facilities, personnel and spectators during a rocket launch, the flight termination self-destruct assembly is required to be, effectively, 100 percent reliable.

The last ten seconds seemed to stretch out, each second marked by the hum of systems and the muted voices of engineers and specialists across the room.  Then, with a flash and roar that seemed to shake the very earth, the engines ignited. Ellie could feel the vibration deep in her chest, the sound rumbling through her bones as New Glenn lifted from the pad.  The colossal size of the rocket was hard for those that had not experienced it close-up to fathom.  New Glenn started to rise slowly into the air, as the engines lifted the rocket, the payload, and one hundred tons of fuel required to escape the gravity-well we call earth.  The control room was filled with data, readouts updating by the millisecond as the rocket climbed, and Ellie could only watch in awe as the screens filled with telemetry data confirming a nominal liftoff.

“Engine thrust is nominal,” Tom called out, his voice calm, each word clipped with professionalism.

“New Glenn has cleared the tower,” a significant milestone reached.

Sara felt a wave of pride and relief wash over her, grounding her for the briefest of moments in the comfort of routine. But a mission of this magnitude was anything but routine.

“Power and telemetry are nominal,” Tom echoed, bringing the first hint of ease to the tension-thick room.

“New Glen is supersonic,” Mason intoned, and Ellie saw a flicker of relief in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment that the rocket had crossed another of many hurdles. Outside, the sky was beginning to brighten, the sun just starting to breach the horizon, casting a thin golden line over the Atlantic.

“Max Q,” said Tom.  They passed Max Q, the point of maximum dynamic pressure, with a flurry of updates flashing across the screen, each one confirming what they all hoped; stability, performance, precision.

“Power and trajectory nominal,” said Tom as everything was on track and the tension in the room started to break as new stages were called out by the Flow Director.

“Ascent phase continuing,” then a few seconds later, “GS2 MVAC is chilling.” 

A normal launch and insertion to geo-stationary transfer orbit happens relatively fast.  Less than thirty-five minutes.  So every second without disaster is a milestone.  After 199 seconds, merely three and a half minutes into the launch Tom said, “GS1 Stage Sep starting, MECO, Standby for booster separation.”

Just as they passed the three-minute mark, Ellie’s console flashed, a red error box materializing in a place where only green should be. She blinked, her pulse quickening. No, this couldn’t be right. But there it was, a deviation in trajectory, a slight but noticeable drift.

“Uh, Flight, we’re seeing a slight lateral deviation,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. The control room went still, each person’s gaze zeroing in on their screens.

“Telemetry is showing a lateral deviation,” Sara confirmed, her voice laced with unease. “It’s subtle, but… it’s there. Guidance, please check thrust vector control.” 

Sara was worried about the gimballed engines having an issue.  These were the engines that were able to pivot to provide steering and adjust to small deviations.  The hydraulic TVC actuators are highly reliable, so a deviation at this point was abnormal.  

Mason leaned in, his brows furrowing. “Can we get a diagnostic on the guidance systems?”

The Propulsion Engineer was already on it, his fingers flying over his console. “Checking… but everything’s green here.”

Jakson looked on and said, “Flight, Range. Do we have a malfunction in guidance?”

“Range, guidance. We are within tolerances, standby,” said the guidance engineer as everyone was looking at their monitors trying to quickly troubleshoot an issue in real time.

Sara’s heart began to pound. The telemetry deviation was slight, barely noticeable to an untrained eye, but it was growing. And the longer it went uncorrected, the more it threatened to compound; to pull them off the precise trajectory needed for a successful Jupiter insertion.

“Whoa.  Guidance did the SWAT just fire?” said Tom trying to ascertain why the severe-weather attitude thruster would have fired during flight.  SWAT was never used during flight. It felt like watching someone blink out of sync with their own face. It was only used as an attitude correction procedure during booster return and landing.   The SWAT firing at this stage was a major deviation from the highly choreographed second by second dance that had been planned for years.  Sara’s hands went flat on the console. Pinning. A habit she hated because it meant she was scared.

“GS1 core separation in three, two, one, ” Tom’s voice cut through the room as the New Glenn’s main booster separated with a flawless plume of fire, arcing away from the main core, the separation confirmed with a mechanical, almost cold precision.

“GS1 core sep confirmed,” Ellie called, but her voice was brittle, laced with the growing sense of something slipping beyond their control.

“GS1 is safed,” came another voice, steady and professional, though Ellie could hear the underlying tension.

Mason’s gaze was sharp, calculating. “Can we get an updated trajectory plot? I want to see exactly where we’re heading.”

Ellie’s stomach dropped as the updated data streamed in. The lateral drift had corrected slightly, but now there was something else, a subtle but unmistakable tilt to the separated and falling GS1 booster, a slight skew that was not normal.  Suddenly the GS1 booster exploded in a massive fireball merely four kilometers away from GS2 and the Eden System’s payload. The control room went deathly silent, waiting for the boom they knew would take at least 10 seconds to reach them sonically.  It thundered through the mission control center, a deep rumble that shook the air in everyone’s lungs.  The sound was wrong in a way Sara recognized, like a door closing on a life that could have been saved if someone had bothered to respect a detail.

“Oh no…” Ellie whispered, the realization hitting her like a physical blow. “Did the explosion reach or impact stage 2?”

Sara looked at her, wide-eyed, the disbelief etched into every line of her face.

“Flight is still nominal for Stage 2.  Range, was it FTS on GS1?”

“This is Range.  We’re checking the logs for the GS1 FTSDA.”

Mason’s face hardened, his jaw set. “Telemetry, are you seeing this?”

“Confirmed, sir,” Elli’s voice was hoarse, barely concealing the fear that gripped the room. “Our trajectory is skewed. But we are within tolerances to adjust for GTO”

For a moment, the room was silent, the gravity of the situation settling over them like a shroud. Ellie could see the horror dawning in each face around her, the recognition that something was dreadfully, irrevocably wrong.

“Telecom,” Mason’s voice was like steel. “Have we lost guidance control? Did we get confirmation that the alarm file was deployed?”

“Negative,” came the answer, though it held no comfort. “All systems are nominal based on what we see in MCC.  Clearly there is some comms interference.  We’re looking into it.”

“Guidance. Get me an answer. Now.” said Mason. 

“Flight, Prop.”

“Go Prop”

“We are vented and primed, the propulsion system is now ready in GS2.”

“Flight, Range, are we Safety Passive yet?”

Jackson, still intently typing commands into his terminal to understand and relay information to Flow and Flight said, “This is Range, confirmed we are Safety Passive.  We are safing FTS. But we have a confirmed FTSDA log command just before GS1 sep at T+199 seconds.  But that didn’t happen, and we’re trying to figure out why.   The GS1 malfunction after sep was not FTS.  We are looking into it.”

Sara felt a chill creep up her spine. She thought back to the endless encrypted communications, the anonymous representatives, the heavy security clearances. Sara looked at Ellie, eyes wide with fear. 

“Flight, Guidance. Where are we?  I need answers on the SWAT as well…does that have anything to do with the GS1 malfunction post sep?” said Tom; frustration and stress breaking through his calm demeanor.

“Okay, all stations, stage 2 is still nominal, continue flow as normal.  Feed me results on GS1 malfunction if you have them, otherwise all focus is on GS2,” said

Mason, trying to calm and focus everyone on the amazing fact that despite a number of unplanned malfunctions they still had a salvageable mission.

“Stage 2 FTS is safed.”

“Stage 2 is in terminal guidance. MVAC Startup Ses 1”

“Fairing separation confirmed at MET 218”

“Apogee and perigee nominal”

“Nominal orbital insertion,” said Tom.  The plan had been for main engine cutoff (MECO) at mission elapsed time (MET) 199 seconds and then stage separation immediately after that at MET 202.  The first burn for the second stage BE-3U engines starts once there is sufficient distance between the stages.  The second stage engine starts just 4-seconds after that at MET 206 and starts to accelerate away from GS1.  Once passing the limit for aerodynamic heat flux to the payload approximately ten-seconds after that, the (PLF) payload fairing opens exposing the payload to space and is jettisoned while the stage continues to sustain powered flight.  

“Second burn for 10 mins 18 seconds, then SECO-1,” said Tom…completely focused on stage 2 orbital insertion and leaving the stage 1 malfunction in the past.  There were only so many seconds to diagnose and adjust if anything went wrong.  

“This is guidance, we’ve sent commands to adjust trajectory for GTO…but GS2 has already adjusted, on its own.” the guidance engineer said with alarm.  Ellie couldn’t answer, couldn’t even begin to guess at what lay behind the layers of secrecy. All she knew was that the rocket might be out of their hands, following a path none of them had charted.

Outside, the sun was fully risen, casting a golden light over the Atlantic, but inside the control room, a darkness had taken root, an understanding that this mission had slipped beyond their control. Each person was trapped in a moment of helplessness, a terrifying recognition that they were no longer the ones holding the reins.

After the second burn there were still no more answers on what had caused the multiple malfunctions in guidance and the serendipitous SWAT malfunction that seemed to both save GS2 and doom GS1 at the same time.  Quickly the second burn was coming to a close while perigee was achieved at 250 km above the earth.

“Second stage engine cutoff confirmed. We have fourteen minutes of glide until GS2 second burn for Hohmann transfer.”  

About a minute and a half later Tom announced that the second engine cut-off was confirmed before the payload separation was completed. 

“SECO-2 Confirmed”

“Separation confirmed. Deployment complete”

“Okay, all stations, we are waiting for sign of initial acquisition of signal.  Telecom will confirm when we have a carrier lock and DAM will let us know when they see the first packet down,” said Mason with relief as the final elements of the launch mission were closing out successfully.  

After only 1985 seconds or 34 minutes the launch sequence was complete.  The most intense thirty minutes of each of their lives and one they would never forget. And somewhere in that deep silence, as the final payload miraculously hurtled toward its original destination, both Sara and Ellie could almost feel the design or intentionality in the end state.  Eden had a working satellite where they wanted it, regardless of the path.  Was this fate or just extremely good luck?  

Luck doesn’t apply in space.  

Sara didn’t believe in luck. Not in rockets, not in families, not in anything that exploded because someone said probably fine.

And whatever had just happened up there hadn’t felt like probability.