Chapter 123: Victory After Victory
When the mission reached the third orbit and was preparing for reentry, inside Mercury Control Center, the air was filled with tension, the room full of gray consoles, screens flashing with green numbers and curve charts.
Lin Ran stood in the center, looking confident, his hands on his hips, breaking the brief silence with a calm voice:
“Joe, how’s the heat shield data?”
Staff wore white short-sleeved shirts, fine beads of sweat on their foreheads, gazes quickly switching between the dashboard and each other.
Joe Smith sat at the console, brows furrowed, fingers flying across the keyboard, data streams slowly scrolling on the screen.
“Director, the alarm is still flashing, but we compared the telemetry data, it might be a switch problem. The heat shield itself should be fine.” Affected by hours of continuous work, his voice was slightly hoarse.
Lin Ran relaxed even more, nodded, and turned to communicator Scott Carpenter:
“Scott, tell Glenn we think the heat shield is safe, but have him keep the parachute pack, just in case.”
Carpenter adjusted his headphones, leaned close to the microphone, his voice steady and clear.
Unsteady wouldn’t do; for his position, even if the spaceship was about to explode the next second, he had to calmly reassure the astronaut to say his last words the second before.
“Friendship 7, this is Mercury Control Center. We analyzed the data, the heat shield should be fine, but please keep the parachute pack during reentry, just in case. Over.”
Seconds later, John Glenn’s voice came through the speaker, clearly the good news that the heat shield was fine had improved his mood considerably:
“Mercury Control Center, Friendship 7 received. Keeping parachute pack, understood. Over.”
The engineers in the control center relaxed a bit, but the tense atmosphere hadn’t dissipated.
After the mission reached four-thirty in the morning, John Glenn sat in the cramped spacecraft, his body tightly secured to the seat by the seatbelt. The dashboard lights in the cabin flickered dimly, emitting a faint hum. Through the small front window, he could see Earth’s blurry blue.
The spacesuits of this era had limited functions due to backward battery technology, the temperature control system was somewhat weak, so the interior was stuffy and hot, sweat slid down John Glenn’s forehead, but he remained focused.
“Starting deceleration,” John Glenn said softly to himself.
His fingers deftly pressed the button.
The three deceleration rockets ignited in sequence, the cabin vibrated slightly, and the spacecraft began decelerating, preparing to plunge into the atmosphere.
Outside the window, the darkness of space was gradually replaced by a streak of orange-red glow, the fire from friction with the atmosphere during reentry.
In the control center, everyone’s gazes were fixed on the orbital diagram and speed readings.
The clock on the wall ticked away, every second stretching the sense of time.
Only Lin Ran knew this would succeed, but considering he had already changed so much “history,” what if this time it changed too—Lin Ran’s hand gripped the chair’s handrail a bit tightly.
“Deceleration rockets ignited, speed dropping.” Smith’s voice came from the console, his tone starting to lighten.
“Good, keep monitoring.” Lin Ran responded briefly, his eyes still fixed on the screen.
Suddenly, Glenn’s voice pierced the control room’s silence over the radio: “Mercury Control Center, I see large chunks of the parachute pack breaking off! It’s a real fireball out there!”
His voice mixed with surprise and faint fear.
The room instantly fell into dead silence, everyone holding their breath.
Lin Ran glanced at the data, then said: “It should be the parachute pack ablating, the heat shield can hold.
Joe, keep observing, Carpenter, tell him to stay calm! The heat shield will protect him, have him continue monitoring.”
Carpenter immediately shouted into the microphone: “Friendship 7, stay calm, the heat shield will protect you. Continue reporting status. Over.”
Glenn’s voice came again, slightly urgent but still trying to stay composed: “Understood, I’m watching. Can I talk to the professor?”
NASA had many directors, but only one professor.
Carpenter removed his headphones, turned his head: “Director, Glenn wants to talk to you.”
Lin Ran nodded, walked to Carpenter’s position, took the headphones, and said loudly: “Glenn, remember what I told you!”
John Glenn said: “I remember, professor.”
“Good, I’m telling you now, temperature is rising but within controllable limits, remember the manual operations in the simulator, prepare for return, over.”
Lin Ran didn’t listen to what John Glenn said next, handed the headphones back to Carpenter, and returned to his seat.
The people in the control center exchanged a glance, the room almost audible with heartbeats.
When the mission reached four fifty-five, Friendship 7 burst through the clouds at astonishing speed, finally splashing huge waves in the North Atlantic Ocean. The sea surface churned with white foam, the spacecraft rocked a few times on the water, then slowly stabilized.
Inside the cabin, Glenn let out a long breath, unbuckled his seatbelt, feeling a wave of relief. He looked out the small window, seawater slapping the cabin wall, just not sure if he had landed in the planned zone—he only knew this was the North Atlantic for sure.
Moments later, the roar of helicopters approached from afar. A Navy helicopter hovered overhead, rotors whipping up wind and waves. Rescue personnel quickly lowered a rope, preparing to hoist the spacecraft. Glenn opened the hatch, a salty sea breeze hit his face, he squinted: “Professor, I did it.”
“Landing confirmed!” Smith looked up from the console and shouted. Before the words finished, the control center erupted in deafening applause and cheers.
Lin Ran stood and clapped, the entire control center joining in applause.
“Well done, guys!” Lin Ran said loudly, though his voice lacked much excitement: “Glenn landed safely!”
Carpenter removed his headphones, wiped sweat from his forehead, smiled to himself: “He did it, we did it.”
At ten in the morning after the mission ended, the press conference hall at Cape Canaveral was packed, reporters holding cameras, notebooks on their laps.
The air was filled with the smell of coffee and cigarettes.
Microphones were placed on the central podium, NASA logo in the background, blue and white tones.
Previously, there were many reporters at Cape Canaveral, but mostly foreign reporters, with more foreign media reporters than American ones.
This was because NASA kept failing, no American would want to cover such news.
American media mostly approached NASA news with an “if it happens, I have to report it” attitude, far from enthusiastic.
Unless they could dig up some big scoop.
Foreign media loved reporting it—who doesn’t enjoy fun?
Especially England and Germany media.
The Times had coined “Flopnik” to mock America, a merger of Flop (failure) and the Soviet Union’s successfully launched satellite Sputnik.
Germany’s Pravda used “Kaputnik,” Kaputt meaning “broken” or “done for” in German language.
With NASA’s two consecutive successes last year, whether the successful hard landing moon mission or the subsequent manned flight, it greatly boosted American morale, everyone realizing NASA was truly different after the change in leadership.
This also led to more and more American reporters being sent to Cape Canaveral.
NASA Director James Webber stood on stage, suit impeccably tailored, face bearing an irrepressible smile.
“Today is a great day in American aerospace history.” Webber’s voice carried through the speakers to the whole room, “John Glenn’s courage and the NASA team’s efforts achieved the feat of the first American orbital flight. This is not just a technological victory, but a victory for the spirit of freedom.”
John Glenn wasn’t there in person, but his photos were, just fished out of the Atlantic, still receiving treatment on the carrier.
In the post-event interview segment, to most reporters, compared to Lin Ran, an old-school bureaucrat like James Webber was just too boring.
So hardly any reporters asked him questions, most directed at Lin Ran.
“Professor, I’d like to ask, you’ve said before you’d only bring NASA victory after victory, we’ve clearly seen you did it again this time. How did you help NASA achieve such a great transformation?”
The question came from Jenny, who was practically Lin Ran’s dedicated reporter now.
After the last Nobel Peace Prize awarding ceremony, Jenny’s long-form feature on Lin Ran in the New York Times received rave reviews.
It not only gave Americans a more direct impression of Lin Ran, but also made him more famous globally.
In the past, when Americans talked about Chinese descent people, they usually mentioned Anna May Wong, Hollywood Chinese descent stars before Bruce Lee, but now everyone mentioned Lin Ran.
American public might not know Anna May Wong’s English name is Anna, but they certainly knew Lin Ran’s English name Randolph.
Lin Ran smiled at Jenny’s question: “I’ve answered this many times before. NASA has the world’s best aerospace engineers, America has the world’s best batch of aerospace enterprises, together we can accomplish the impossible.
Past NASA failures were just a small integration problem, Director James Webber and I are great partners, once we solved that small problem together, NASA got on track.
Which is what everyone has seen, success after success.”
“Assistant Lin, hello, I’m a reporter from Agence France-Presse. First, congratulations on winning the 1961 Nobel Peace Prize. Recently, according to reports from Germany’s Pravda, during the Geneva hotline negotiations, you were requested by the Soviet Union side to have a two-hour meeting with Korolev.
Could you share the content of your meeting?”
Clearly, with so many people involved in the negotiations, it’s hard to keep such things from the outside world, from officials to staff below, to internals in various countries, everyone leaks news for various purposes.
Though for America, since it was caused by Lyndon Johnson, they could try to keep it secret, but the Soviet Union wouldn’t keep it secret for you.
Maybe Korolev thought to wait slowly, Lin Ran was young, eventually he’d see through America’s hypocritical surface to its evil nature and run to their camp.
But others couldn’t resist pressuring Lin Ran, creating an unfriendly atmosphere through various means.
McCarthy was gone, but his soil remained.
Current America hadn’t yet been guided by critical theory school, with the Donkey Party specifically operating large-scale modifications, thoroughly polluting the soil.
Lin Ran said after hearing: “Sorry, this is NASA’s press conference, not my personal one.
But since you asked, I can tell you, yes it happened, we discussed some mathematical problems, probably because he’d seen the limit of human wisdom before, and wanted to see it again, so he came to me.”
Lin Ran cleverly answered the question while giving himself a strong pat on the back.
The reporters present reacted differently to the answer based on their affiliations.
Those chuckling were friendly to Lin Ran, those scribbling furiously in notebooks not only recorded his exact words but also their own ideas, the type aiming for a big news story.
“Professor, you could completely ignore such obviously malicious questions. They ask this to make it real, constantly creating the illusion that you have close ties to the Soviet Union, that Korolev admires you, and because of your Chinese descent identity and admiration for Chinese culture, you’ll eventually defect to the Soviet Union camp.”
Jenny reminded, her eyes showing a trace of worry.
Lin Ran and she were strolling on the beach, here called Cocoa Beach, the city closest to Cape Canaveral, basically full of aerospace-related staff or supporting facilities like restaurants and pharmacies.
“Alright, actually whether I respond or not, those with ulterior motives will do it anyway.
All I can do is hit back with achievements.” Lin Ran said helplessly.
Bluntly, the essence behind it was simply because he was Chinese people.
If he were a white person, there wouldn’t be half a word of such gossip.
In the current environment, a Chinese people leading NASA to success after success, rapidly closing the gap with the Soviet Union in the space race.
For many white supremacy believers, they’d rather lose.
Even sixty years later there’d be soil for rednecks to emerge, sixty years ago the phenomenon was even more pronounced.
“Professor, you’re right, no matter what you say, some will do this.
I’ve already had media under Hearst Group build momentum for you, shaping you as the representative of the American Dream of this era.”
Jenny worried the Chinese descent from Europe might not know what the American Dream was, so she explained carefully: “Though now television portrays the American Dream as owning a villa with a white picket fence and big garden as the symbol.
Treating James Truslow Adams’ words in The Epic of America about the American Dream: ‘In this land, everyone can live a better, richer, fuller life according to their ability or achievement, unrestricted by birth or class.’ as the American Dream.
But in my view, these are just part, excerpts from President Thomas Jefferson’s Declaration of Independence.”
Lin Ran asked after listening: “Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness? In my impression, the Declaration of Independence says something like that.”
He had actually casually seen the words under Jefferson’s statue at Columbia University, his camera-like memory firmly etching them in his brain.
Jenny’s eyes narrowed, she naturally linked arms with Lin Ran: “Your talents in aerospace and mathematics are so outstanding, I’ve almost forgotten you’re also a potential philosophy master.
Right, but tracing the core of the American Dream further back, to the Puritans sailing the Mayflower to New England, hoping to build a city upon a hill.
Its core isn’t just pursuing a better life regardless of status.
There’s a more substantial kernel: opening up frontiers, for oneself or for America.
Professor, you fit the definition of the American Dream in every aspect.
You’re opening up America’s frontiers in the universe.
Is there anyone in all of America who fits this standard better than you?”
Jenny waved her fist: “Professor, rest assured, Hearst Group is best at public opinion promotion.
Just wait to be shaped as the representative of the new era American Dream.
With this identity, the Elephant Party won’t find it so easy to trip you up.”
This was actually Jenny’s good intentions; as a woman from a major family background in the news industry, she knew all too well the fates of scientists like Oppenheimer in the past.
In her view, building a halo was very necessary.
“Thanks.” Lin Ran could feel her good intentions; he knew well that Chinese people identity didn’t mean there’d definitely be trouble.
Take Wu Chien-shiung as example, she was the only Chinese people in the Manhattan Project, involved in uranium isotope separation technology development, Geiger counter improvements, and solving the xenon poisoning problem in Hanford B reactor. These could be called core.
But not only did she participate, she got high security clearance, and faced no investigation during the later McCarthy period.
In Lin Ran’s view, his problem was close ties with Korolev, and emotional sympathy toward China tendency.
He felt Jenny wanted to counter these issues by shaping him as the American Dream image.
When Jenny linked arms with him, Lin Ran then felt that sometimes having senses too sharp wasn’t a good thing.
He always got easily distracted.
“Professor, where are you planning to treat me to dinner tonight?” Jenny asked.
For Lin Ran, after the manned spaceflight success, this was a short vacation time.
Lin Ran said: “Tonight I’m meeting John Morgan, sorry I can’t accompany you.”
“John Morgan? I think he won’t mind one more person joining you for dinner.” Jenny narrowed her eyes, knowing exactly who that was.
Lin Ran said: “Alright, then I might get angry, as long as you don’t mind.”
