Chapter 340: The Professor’s Command Reappears
The aftermath of the explosion echoed through Odyssey, with alarm lights flashing wildly inside the cabin, red light reflecting on the astronauts’ faces.
Aldrin floated by the porthole, staring at the white mist spraying from the service module outside—that was the precious oxygen leaving its final mark in the space vacuum.
His heart was already suspended in mid-air.
Similarly suspended in mid-air with him was Lyndon Johnson: exploding neither early nor late, but right when I’m about to leave office—you give me an explosion, fireworks to celebrate my departure from the White House?
Even more critically, there was Buzz Aldrin up there, America’s merit-class astronaut.
Aldrin going to the Moon again really wasn’t news, and most of the audience wasn’t interested, but if Aldrin died in space, that would be huge news, with all the major media reporting on it extensively.
Lyndon Johnson felt like he was suffocating.
Aldrin in space took a deep breath silently, pretending as if nothing had happened, forcing himself to calm down.
Jack Swigert’s fingers flew across the DSKY keyboard, trying to restart the system, while Jim Lovell gripped the dashboard, his face pale: “Oxygen Tank 1 is also dropping, PhD, our electricity is only half left.”
A faint smell of scorched metal permeated the air, and the cabin temperature began to drop slowly, as the cooling system was also affected.
On Earth, the control center at Cape Canaveral instantly turned from calm to a battlefield.
The control room was spacious and dim, with rows of consoles under fluorescent lights, each screen flashing real-time data.
Flight Director Gene Kranz stood in the center, sweat beading on his forehead; he had never been so tense, thinking to himself, could this really be metaphysics? Things like this happen as soon as the professor is away.
As Lin Ran walked into the control center, the whole scene slowly became orderly. “Quiet! Everyone stay calm, small problem, this is completely solvable small problem.”
Lin Ran went to the systems engineer’s side, staring at the EECOM console, the screen showing the oxygen pressure curve plummeting: “Oxygen Tank 2 is completely gone, Oxygen Tube 1 is leaking, Fuel Cells 1 and 3 are about to fail, the electricity problem means we definitely can’t continue the moon landing this time.”
“Gene, get me connected to Odyssey,” Lin Ran commanded. “Then drag a whiteboard over behind me!”
“Yes, professor,” Gene Kranz replied without hesitation.
“Buzz, don’t panic, small problem!
I’m analyzing the problem now, I’ve seen the telemetry data coming from your side, I need to confirm some details with you specifically.”
Lin Ran’s voice came through, and not only Aldrin, but Jack and Jim instantly calmed down.
When Aldrin replied, he glanced at the white mist outside the porthole that hadn’t fully dissipated, thinking, as expected of the professor, this is just a small problem.
“Okay, professor, a loud bang, then everything went haywire.
Gas is leaking now, the entire spaceship’s attitude can’t stay stable.”
Lin Ran quickly drew a spaceship schematic on the whiteboard: “Our only choice now is to use the lunar module as a lifeboat; the lunar module has oxygen, electricity, and propulsion system.”
Gene reminded: “Professor, but it was designed for two people for two days, not three for four days.”
Lin Ran said: “So you need to provide me with detailed data now, including oxygen consumption, carbon dioxide, electricity, and water; I need to calculate everything.”
In the first hour after the malfunction, the control center confirmed the cause of the explosion: an internal short circuit in Oxygen Tank 2 caused a fire, leading to the outer shell rupturing.
Lin Ran arranged for Kranz to organize a simulation team in another room to recreate the scene using backup consoles.
At the same time, he commanded Aldrin to stabilize the spaceship: “Buzz, close the valve on Fuel Cell 3, switch to Main Bus A and B to save electricity, and turn off all unnecessary lights and heaters.”
Aldrin executed: “Received, professor, closing Cell 3…”
“Bus voltage stable at 28 volts currently,” Aldrin reported after execution.
“Good, also manually fire the attitude control thrusters to correct the spaceship’s tumbling!” Lin Ran continued.
After Jack Lovell operated according to the command, he said: “Professor, attitude recovering.”
The next key step was transferring to the lunar module Aquarius.
The atmosphere on site was incredibly tense; Lyndon Johnson stood next to Lin Ran and asked when he had a moment: “Professor, how’s it going? Can the astronauts return safely?”
Lin Ran said seriously: “Leave it to me with confidence; the lunar module has an independent life support system: oxygen tank, battery, water.
The only problem is limited electricity, can only sustain 45 hours.
But this is solvable.”
After calculating, Lin Ran found they couldn’t turn around directly; he said: “Gene, we have to have them loop around the Moon to return, instead of direct turnaround; direct turnaround would cause fuel shortage.”
He then commanded: “Buzz, prepare to activate the lunar module.
Have Jack enter Aquarius first, start the main battery and environmental control.”
Jack unbuckled his seatbelt and floated toward the tunnel: “PhD, help me tell the professor, I’m in.”
He opened the hatch and crawled into the narrow lunar module, space about the size of a telephone booth, walls covered with switches and pipes.
Jack pressed the circuit breaker: “Main battery online, oxygen pressure normal.”
Aldrin replied: “Professor, Aquarius all normal.”
Lin Ran said: “Good, now you and Jim also transfer to Aquarius, remember to bring first aid supplies and food.”
Jim and Aldrin executed according to the command; the three squeezed into the lunar module, air cool but humid, scattered tools floating on the floor.
While commanding space, Lin Ran also commanded the ground; he said to Gene Kranz: “The next challenge is carbon dioxide buildup; the lunar module’s lithium hydroxide canister can only handle CO2 from two people, three will spike the concentration to dangerous levels.”
At that moment, Aldrin reported: “CO2 reading rising to 15 mmHg.”
Lin Ran replied: “Don’t worry, Buzz, I’ll provide a solution as soon as possible.”
Kranz suddenly tensed up; he really couldn’t think of any way to solve it.
But the professor didn’t disappoint him.
Lin Ran turned to Kranz: “Gene, use the tape, socks, plastic bag on the lunar module—whatever’s up there, we have to use it all to make an adapter, to let air flow between the lunar module and command module.”
Seeing Kranz didn’t understand, Lin Ran explained carefully: “The lunar module’s filter canister is round, while the command module’s spare filter canister is square, can’t directly adapt to the lunar module’s ventilation system; we need a device to make it fit, so air from both cabins can be used.
What you need to do now is immediately design a device according to this, then experiment to ensure it works, ensure carbon dioxide can be filtered through this device, and finally we’ll fax the blueprint to them.”
Gene Kranz understood, gave a thumbs up: “Professor, as expected of you.”
This process was the peak of creativity in the Apollo moon landing project, later considered one of the most iconic moments in the Apollo series missions.
(The makeshift device used in Apollo 13 to transfer carbon dioxide from the lunar module to the command module)
Lin Ran added: “Best to wrap the square canister in a plastic bag, connect a hose to the top of the bag, cardboard pieces on both sides of the canister to prevent the plastic bag from collapsing, tape wrapped in multiple layers for sealing.
This way, we ensure the airflow path draws air from the lunar module ventilation system’s intake through the hose into the plastic bag, flows through the command module’s LiOH canister, carbon dioxide absorbed, then returns to the cabin from the other end.
Remember to wrap the hose-to-vent connection with multiple layers of tape to prevent leaks; cardboard keeps the airflow channel open.”
Lin Ran drew while speaking.
Gene Kranz nodded: “Yes, professor, I’ll arrange engineers to act on your instructions right away.”
Lin Ran’s performance was seen by Lyndon Johnson, who watched the entire control center atmosphere go from tense to calm.
After Gene Kranz left, Lyndon Johnson sighed: “Professor, is there anything you can’t do?”
Lin Ran smiled: “I can’t be president.”
After conducting the experiment, the ground control center faxed the blueprint to the astronauts.
Seeing it, Aldrin’s suspended heart finally relaxed; the biggest problem was solved.
“The professor didn’t lie to us, the professor really has a way!”
Jim, wrapping the plastic bag and cardboard with tape while looking at the blueprint, joked.
Aldrin said calmly: “Of course, always remember one thing: unconditionally trusting the professor in space is the guarantee of success; from the moment I heard it wasn’t the professor commanding this mission, I had a bad feeling.”
Hearing this, Jack inwardly ranted wildly: does the professor personally commanding mean the oxygen tank won’t explode? We’re astronauts sent to space by science, not metaphysics.
But he wouldn’t say it out loud; no one at NASA dares to offend the professor.
Following the ground control center’s commands, they built the crude device and completed the connection: “It’s working, carbon dioxide concentration dropping.”
Aldrin reported via radio.
Lin Ran remained calm: “Good, Buzz, this is just one step; you can’t relax vigilance, the lunar module’s battery can only provide 2000Ah, you need to hold out at least until re-entry into the atmosphere; shut down all non-essential systems now.”
After thinking for a moment, he issued more specific instructions: “Buzz, turn off the heater, computer to standby mode, use radio only when necessary.”
Cabin temperature dropped to 3 degrees Celsius; the astronauts shivered, no mood to talk.
They took turns resting to save oxygen consumption.
Jack gazed at the Moon drawing closer outside the porthole: “So close, yet can’t land, really unlucky.”
Looping around the Moon was the turning point. 70 hours after the malfunction, the spaceship entered the Moon’s shadow, communication cut for 40 minutes.
The control center atmosphere was unprecedentedly tense.
The outside world had gotten the news; live television broadcast had long been interrupted, insiders leaking info nonstop.
No one watched the moon landing live before, now news reports were all about this moon landing failure, viewership exploding.
Conspiracy theories spread outside: moon landing failed, astronauts killed in action, White House blocking news.
Reporters swarmed outside Cape Canaveral, eager to see Lin Ran and Lyndon Johnson.
The control center atmosphere hit rock bottom; no one dared speak loudly.
Lyndon Johnson silently prayed for the astronauts.
Kranz paced tensely: “They’ll come through.”
Only Lin Ran stared at the screen calculating.
After reconnection, Aldrin reported: “Professor, everything normal.”
Lin Ran said: “Good, Buzz, to return to orbit, prepare for PC+2 burn, propulsion 2 hours after lunar closest approach.
I’ve calculated the specific procedure for you, considering lunar gravity and spaceship weight changes, burn time 142 seconds, Delta-V 2.3 fps.”
No computer, no portable calculator, not even the computation group used; at this critical moment, only Lin Ran’s mental math.
No one on site found this strange or abnormal.
IBM can’t outcalculate the professor, is that strange?
NASA’s engineers often joked privately: IBM is the Deep Blue Giant, then the professor is Ymir.
Jack operated the LM’s descent propulsion system (DPS): “Ignition… engine stable.”
Burn successful, slinging them toward Earth.
Due to lack of electricity, navigation also a problem; explosion caused trajectory deviation.
Luckily there was Aldrin, who could manually align the platform with the sextant: “Using the Sun and Earth as references.”
Ground Lin Ran handled calculating correction burns for them; three small adjustments ensured re-entry trajectory: too steep would burn up, too shallow would bounce.
Final stage of return journey, 143 hours after malfunction, spaceship approaching Earth.
They jettisoned the service module; astronauts stood at the porthole taking commemorative photos.
Then separated the command module: “Goodbye, Aquarius. You saved us.”
The three squeezed back into “Odyssey”, activated remaining batteries.
Lin Ran’s final instruction: “13, enter re-entry attitude, black-out period 3 minutes, radio silence.”
Re-entry into atmosphere like a fireball falling.
External temperature reached 5000 degrees Fahrenheit, ionized gas blocking communication.
Control room deathly silent.
After black-out ended, Aldrin’s voice rang out: “Professor, we’re still alive!”
Parachutes deployed, command module splashed down in the South Pacific, only 3 miles from recovery ship Iwo Jima.
Helicopter hoisted the three; led by Lin Ran, all engineers in the control center applauded.
Lyndon Johnson also breathed a sigh of relief; good thing Aldrin didn’t die.
