Chapter 188: Imperial Seal Lost In A Foreign Land
This was an unprecedentedly contradictory psychology.
The more outstanding Lin Ran was, the more valuable the information he accessed, and the greater its significance to them.
But the more valuable the information he accessed, the harder it would be to let him return to China openly.
Ever since Lin Ran became NASA Director, China had stopped hoping to see him return openly in their lifetime.
It all depended on how to rescue him when he was exposed.
Now, seeing this development, the possibility of rescuing him back was becoming as slim as returning openly.
Dean Qian sighed: “White Horse has become like the Imperial Seal. After this is over, forget returning to China—whichever of the Soviet Union or America competes for him will naturally gain legitimacy in public opinion and propaganda.
This is too exaggerated.
America is a country with very obvious racism, and the Soviet Union even more so.
The White House can have someone of Chinese descent, but the Kremlin never has.
Yet a person of Chinese descent has become such a character in this world. Before this, I wouldn’t have dared to even imagine it.”
Who was Dean Qian? In 1943, he participated in drafting the JPL proposal, clearly defining the future research direction for missile and rocket technology.
He later participated in the development of Private A, MGM-5 Corporal, and WAC Corporal, designing the concept of an intercontinental spaceship, which became the foundation for X-20 Dyna-Soar.
As an Army technical consultant, he participated in America’s Department of Defense strategic planning, evaluating German wartime technology.
So, for China at this time, his abilities were certainly important, but his vision in technology was even more crucial.
But compared to Lin, the information he accessed was still a bit too peripheral.
Dean Qian’s abilities couldn’t compare to the cheating Lin on one hand.
More importantly, reputation: Qian’s reputation was limited to professional fields, while Lin was being shaped into the synonym for the American Dream.
“This reminds me that after this moon landing is successfully completed, White Horse’s fame will only grow louder.
The Soviet Union has Gagarin, so America definitely needs someone who can rival Gagarin.
Who else but White Horse?
It’s indeed hard to imagine.
Dean Qian, your metaphor may not be appropriate, but it’s clever. The Imperial Seal falling into another country is a nation’s misfortune, a nation’s regret.”
On this great day for all humanity, China’s high-level officials at Area 51 felt mixed feelings.
If China had the Soviet Union’s technological strength at this time, they could bring Lin Ran back and complete the first moon landing themselves.
The middle-aged man continued: “Dean Qian, I will push your proposal with all my strength.
White Horse is great, but we also need to cultivate our own White Horse.
We Chinese have 700 million people. Our generation’s Imperial Seal has fallen abroad, but our next generation, and the one after, will surely cultivate our own White Horse.”
The proposal here refers to the youth class.
University of Science and Technology of China was established in 1958 on the initiative of Dean Qian and scientists like Guo Yonghuai, to cultivate top-tier tech talent.
The youth class was originally to be established in the 1970s under Tsung-Dao Lee’s push.
Now, with Lin Ran’s example ahead—proving Fermat’s Conjecture at just over twenty—China realized that geniuses must be cultivated early, the sooner the better.
A couple of years ago, the Chinese Academy of Sciences’ news about joint recruitment through exams attracted students including a fifteen-year-old youth, with good results in the cultivation process.
This further strengthened Dean Qian’s belief that they needed to select true geniuses from 700 million people and start cultivating them as early as possible.
Thus, the youth class came into being.
But turning the initiative into reality takes time.
The Imperial Seal unable to return to its homeland made the middle-aged man deeply regretful and determined to quickly cultivate China’s native “Imperial Seal.”
Redstone Arsenal Control Center was brightly lit.
Dozens of engineers and control personnel sat in rows in front of consoles, screens flashing trajectory data from the command module.
Everyone felt only a sense of powerlessness, because there was nothing for them to do.
When Moscow agreed to transfer command authority, the originally relaxed atmosphere instantly tensed up.
Everyone realized they had to get moving.
Engineers began directing administrative staff to quickly brew more coffee.
Fluorescent lights cast cold white light, clearly illuminating the shift from relaxation to tension on every face.
In the end, they found there was absolutely nothing for them to do.
The professor stood at the top row of consoles and directly handled all the commanding.
Flight commanders, trajectory analysts, computer arrays—none were put to use.
The only ones put to use were the engineers responsible for communication stability.
They had to ensure stable and clear communication between Lin Ran and Gagarin.
Mission time T+219 hours, return traversing the atmosphere at 11 kilometers per second.
The control center was quiet, with only the low hum of electronic equipment and the ticking of the clock.
The control center’s engineers didn’t dare speak loudly, for fear of disturbing the professor’s thoughts.
John Smith reported softly: “Command module entering atmosphere, angle 4.5 degrees, speed 25,000 miles per hour, heat shield temperature rising to 2800 degrees Celsius.”
Lin Ran nodded, very calm.
Instead, Smith’s mind kept replaying tense moments from the previous mission: fuel tank mass error, ignition time adjustment—every step felt like dancing on a tightrope.
Gagarin’s hoarse but firm voice came from the speaker: “Control center, this is Gagarin. Parachute deployed, command module status good.”
The control center instantly erupted, applause and cheers rising one after another.
John Smith was thrilled inside, preparing to rush forward and hug Lin Ran in celebration.
A figure rushed in from outside the control room, even faster than him: “Professor, we did it!”
John Smith slowly backed away again.
He couldn’t afford to provoke McNamara.
Everyone at NASA knew McNamara unconditionally supported Lin Ran in all matters.
If Lyndon Johnson’s support for Lin Ran was hearsay, then McNamara’s support was something NASA engineers had seen with their own eyes.
Redstone Arsenal was originally an American military base, later handed over to NASA.
If the term “lapdog” existed now, everyone would definitely think McNamara was an outright lapdog in front of the professor, with an obsequious attitude as if he were NASA’s employee.
From the launch mission onward, McNamara had been at Redstone Arsenal the whole time waiting for the mission to complete.
Dobrynin had gone back to Washington after the first day’s tour.
McNamara was the type where the White House called him to watch the live broadcast there, but he refused and insisted on staying at Redstone Arsenal, telling Lyndon Johnson on the phone that he wanted to deliver White House congratulations to the professor first-hand.
Lyndon Johnson originally wanted James, also of Chinese descent, to go as representative for congratulations, but since McNamara wanted to go, McNamara was fine too.
McNamara gripped Lin Ran’s hand, excitement flashing in his eyes: “Professor, this is a great victory!
Without us, Gagarin definitely wouldn’t have made it back to Earth.”
Lin Ran said softly: “Still one last step.”
He glanced at the report from Moscow Control Center and said: “Command module speed now reduced to 200 miles per hour, altitude 10,000 feet, estimated splashdown in 2 minutes.”
Two minutes later, the communications officer shouted: “Rescue ship reports command module splashed down! Position 20 degrees north, 160 degrees west, error only 1 nautical mile!”
The control center erupted in thunderous applause.
Lin Ran patted McNamara’s shoulder: “Mike, we succeeded!”
McNamara wiped his excited tears, proud inside: “As expected, no one can match the professor in calculation precision!”
The rescue ship’s image appeared on the control room’s television screen.
Control center staff jumped up cheering, some hugging, some high-fiving.
The young engineer rushed to the front, shouting excitedly: “Professor, everyone, let’s go to the canteen to celebrate! Champagne and food are all ready!”
In the canteen, Lin Ran took the champagne and raised it with a smile: “To humanity’s first successful moon landing, cheers!”
“Cheers!” the engineers responded in unison.
After drinking, Lin Ran said: “Alright, I’m giving everyone a week off. Enjoy this week fully.
I know celebrating in Redstone Arsenal’s canteen with a bunch of engineers, everyone would rather be in Huntsville bars celebrating with blonde girls.”
After Lin Ran finished, McNamara took the microphone:
“Everyone, on behalf of the White House, I thank you all for your efforts, especially thanking the professor for his outstanding contributions to human space exploration.
Today we witnessed the peak of human space exploration. Gagarin conquered the moon, and NASA conquered the moon too!
Thanks to every NASA employee—this is your victory!”
Applause lasted a long time.
But some realized something was off.
Because in McNamara’s speech, there was no mention at all of US-Soviet cooperation.
Although the work had been hard this time, since Gagarin’s moon landing, most people’s work had actually been light.
Because Lin Ran had packaged almost all the calculations himself.
And they could still get outside information through newspapers and television.
Outside propaganda emphasized this as humanity’s great cooperative victory, a rare warm moment in the Cold War, humanity jointly exploring the universe, a new symbol of human peace.
Yet in McNamara’s summary speech on behalf of the White House, from start to finish, there was no mention of this—no peace, no cooperation.
Among the engineers present, the sensitive ones already realized this might not be the start of peace, but the final chapter of peace.
The most perceptive among them was surely Von Braun.
He said softly to the German scientist beside him: “It seems the White House’s goal was just to mitigate the impact of the Soviet moon landing.
True cooperation is still too distant.
Our Saturn V will still see action.”
“Yeah, it looks like human peace won’t come anytime soon.”
In the White House, Lyndon Johnson and the White House core team were in close discussion, as the press conference was about to be held in the East Room.
Lyndon Johnson sat behind the large desk, hands crossed, brows furrowed, gaze sweeping over the three officials before him: Vice President Humphrey, Secretary of State Dean Rusk, National Security Advisor McGeorge Bundy.
Scattered on the desk were NASA’s mission briefings and headlines from major mainstream newspapers.
Johnson slammed the desk, the pen jumping, and asked with a Texas accent: “How do we handle the reporters now?
If it’s about US-Soviet cooperation, reporters might latch onto that and make a big deal—under Europe’s influence, they’re eager to hear so-called peace-related news.”
Humphrey sighed: “Sigh, this cooperative moon landing—success is good, but too successful, and good things can turn bad.
This cooperation was too successful, making the public have even greater expectations for human cooperation on moon landings to open space exploration and propel humanity into the cosmic era.
The desire for peace and calls to stop the Cold War have surged globally.
This is really not good for the war we’re about to start.”
Dean Rusk said calmly: “Mr. President, we need to make global public realize this is NASA’s victory—our technology brought Gagarin back safely.
We must contain this narrative logic; we can’t emphasize cooperation with the Soviet Union anymore.”
George Bundy frowned, tone mild but firm: “US-Soviet cooperative moon landing can show the world peace is possible, especially after the Cuban Missile Crisis.
If we completely ignore cooperation, it might make Khrushchev think we’re provoking.”
Dean Rusk laughed: “Aren’t we about to move on Vietnam—that’s not the most direct provocation?
Would the Kremlin think our Vietnam strategy is for the Asia-Pacific, or to uphold justice for the Vietnamese?”
Good thing there are no mobile phones now—if discussing in a group and pulling in reporters, it would surely cause an uproar, public opinion in shock.
Johnson sneered, stood up, paced to the window: “Peace? You think Nikita will put down his nuclear bombs over one moon landing?
That guy didn’t hold back in the past yelling to bury us at the United Nations!”
Humphrey explained for George Bundy: “Mr. President, from a national security perspective, cooperation can indeed ease tension.
But we can’t appear weak. Domestic hawks are watching us, especially the Goldwater crowd.”
Johnson turned, pointing at Rusk: “Dean, how do we explain to reporters? They’ll definitely ask why Gagarin is the star and our fuel tank like a sidekick!”
Dean Rusk opened the briefing, tone clear and structured:
“We can emphasize America’s technological lead. Fuel tank design, professor’s calculations, our deep space network—without these, Gagarin wouldn’t be alive.
We can say this was a scientific cooperation, with America providing key support.
I propose we have the professor and Korolev do a TV interview show together, to talk about America’s technical contributions in the cooperation.
And why Moscow ultimately chose to transfer command to NASA.
Good lord, in front of the professor, who dares say we’re sidekicks?
Do the Soviet people dare say that?
Does Korolev dare say that?”
Johnson nodded: “Good idea, but we can’t completely deny cooperation.
After all, just a month ago, we had a joint press conference with Dobrynin in the East Room.
We can say this mission proves science knows no borders, but America remains the leader in space exploration.
The idea of the professor and Korolev doing a joint TV interview is great.
London? Soviets like London, doesn’t Korolev like coming to London?”
The three said in unison: “London works.”
Johnson rubbed his temples, sat down, tone a bit impatient: “But this still sounds problematic.
Reporters will ask what we do next—another with the Soviets? More space cooperation?
In fact, this cooperation was because the Soviets screwed us; we had to cooperate.
No similar cooperation in the future—we need a tough response this time.”
Bundy suggested: “You can say this cooperation was a special case; future plans will prioritize American interests. We’ll continue developing Saturn V to stay ahead in the space race.”
Johnson’s eyes lit up: “Saturn V, yeah, good. Let everyone know we haven’t stopped.”
He paused, tone low: “But what about Gagarin? He’s the first on the moon—reporters will make an issue of that.”
Humphrey responded calmly: “We praise his courage, but emphasize the mission’s success relied on our technology. Like, Randolph’s calculations precise to the second.
No one can beat Randolph in mathematical precision—we emphasize even if Gauss were reborn, no.”
Rusk added: “We can add, ‘Gagarin is a hero, but American technology is the behind-the-scenes hero.’
This gives the Soviets face while highlighting our contributions.”
Johnson nodded: “Good, that’s it.”
Press Secretary Moyers knocked and poked his head in:
“Mr. President, reporters are getting impatient. East Room is packed, CBS and NBC cameras are set up.”
Johnson stood, straightened his suit, tone firm: “Alright, guys, we gotta play this scene well. Tell the world we landed on the moon—we’re the winners!”
Bundy said softly: “Mr. President, reporters might ask about the Soviets’ next move. How do you want to answer?”
Johnson narrowed his eyes: “Say we welcome competition, but America will always lead by a step.”
The staff rose and followed Johnson to the East Room.
Johnson shook his head as he walked, thinking: “Peace? Maybe someday, but President Kennedy’s been dead less than a year—even as president, it’s hard to talk extravagantly of peace.”
