Back to the Moon-ARC by Les Johnson, Travis S. Taylor

would allow the Dreamscape to remain in a stable orientation while in space—in other words, keeping it from spinning in random directions. There would be no flight unless the problem was resolved. The spin could induce too much of a g-load on the structure and tear the ship apart. Of course, that would be after the crew had either vomited themselves into oblivion or passed out.
    “Hold on, Paul, we’re looking into it,” was the reply from the engineer in the Space Excursions control room.  
    “Warning, ACS system failure imminent.”
    “Well, check it faster!” Paul replied.
    Unlike their NASA counterparts, Space Excursions had no big control room full of specialized engineers. Instead, their mission control consisted of five people, each cross-trained in multiple engineering disciplines. At this time, all five were working frantically at their computer stations, looking at their status screens and a large replica of Paul Gesling’s screen prominently displayed on the wall at the front of the room. They saw what Gesling saw in addition to the next level of detail, available at the touch of a button. Having only five people running the mission saved the company a lot of money. And the automated systems now monitoring the health of the vehicle, though costing the company a load of cash to develop, were working flawlessly, reporting the status of every major and minor system to mission control. Any significant issues that could affect the flight were flagged and brought to the attention of the people who controlled it.
    “I’m still waiting.” Gesling tapped the red icon on his screen again.  
    “Warning, ACS system is offline.”
    “Oh, shut the hell up,” he shouted to Bitchin’ Betty.
    It seemed to him that an intolerable length of time had passed, but to the flight controller, and to any external observers not impatient for a launch, barely three minutes had gone by. Paul chewed at the inside of his mouth, certain that he would have to wait a bit longer, quite a bit longer, before Dreamscape would make its full-scale test flight to space and back.
    “Damn.”
      
    “We have a technical problem with one of Dreamscape ’s systems that I am sure will be resolved momentarily,” Gary Childers said to the VIP guests in the room with him. He scanned the readouts of the test from an observation room just outside his personally funded, high-tech, and oh-so-expensive mission-control room. Not that he understood all the data—Childers was a businessman. What he understood was that delays cost him money.
    Childers was clearly impatient, yet at the same time he remained firmly in charge. In his mind, VIP stood for “valuable investment people.” Childers had invited several potential investors to attend the test flight, with full expectation they would be so impressed with his operation that they would commit to helping him fund his next entrepreneurial space endeavor—a charter cruise to the surface of the Moon. Once Dreamscape was making routine flights around the Moon, Childers’s marketing surveys indicated that many of the world’s ultrarich would be willing to put up at least one hundred million dollars each to actually walk on the Moon. And he was ready to offer the service.
    Despite his sizable wealth, even Gary Childers didn’t have the money required to finance the construction of a spacecraft that could take people to the Moon and back. After all, the same mission was costing NASA billions of dollars. He had invited ten of his most promising investors to the test launch; seven accepted. And now he was in the position of having to explain to them what was going on and why the launch had already been delayed two hours.
    “Folks,” he began, nodding and smiling, “we’re experiencing some problems with one of the Dreamscape ’s many systems, and my team is telling me that the launch will at best be delayed another hour or so.
    “I’m needed in the control room for a few minutes. Ms.