Chapter 75: Cape Canaveral Launch Site

In James Webb’s original plan, he was to visit the Cape Canaveral Launch Site on Florida’s east coast just before the scheduled May launch, to rally the NASA staff and boost their morale.

As a non-specialist, his presence now could offer no useful advice.

But upon learning that this launch might have issues, he could not help but board the private jet to Florida with Lin Ran, his heart heavy with unease.

On the morning of March 8, 1961, the sky over Cape Canaveral, Florida, had just turned pale with dawn, the sea breeze carrying salt across the land.

James Webb, the newly appointed NASA administrator, and Lin Ran, the White House’s Special Assistant for Space Affairs, stood before this newly built space launch center; Lin Ran’s expression was calm and composed, while James Webb frowned tightly.

On Launch Complex 5, the Redstone rocket soared into the sky, its top bearing the silver-white Freedom 7 spacecraft, glinting brightly in the morning light.

Robert Gilruth, the actual head of the Mercury program, accompanied them, while engineers bustled around the launch apparatus, inspecting wiring and adjusting equipment.

“Gilruth, this sight is truly magnificent,” Webb stopped walking, gazing at the rocket, his voice tinged with awe.

Gilruth nodded, a faint smile on his lips: “Administrator, this is the fruit of our team’s labor.

Freedom 7 has undergone over a hundred tests; the Redstone rocket has completed multiple unmanned launches. We’ve done everything possible to ensure readiness.”

Webb’s gaze fell on the booster; the Redstone’s red paint stood out vividly in the sunlight.

“How reliable is Freedom 7? I’ve heard there were minor glitches during earlier tests.”

“There were indeed some setbacks,” Gilruth admitted honestly, “but we’ve improved the navigation system and reinforced the electrical connections. This time, we’re confident.”

Webb gave a slight nod, yet his heart remained uneasy—Randolph said there were problems, Gilruth was utterly confident—who was telling the truth?

This manned spaceflight was not merely a technical matter—it was a symbol of national dignity.

And it directly impacted his reform plans at NASA.

While Webb toured Freedom 7, Lin Ran remained in the launch center’s conference room, where detailed blueprints lay spread across the table, their dense lines marking every detail of the booster and spacecraft.

Launch Operations Director Kurt Debus stood beside the table, his fingers tapping lightly on its surface, clearly confident in his work.

“Kurt, how is the electrical system?” Lin Ran asked, pointing to a section of the blueprint.

Kurt stepped forward, picked up a pencil, and traced the circuit layout: “Professor Lin, during early tests we identified some short-circuit risks. We redesigned the wiring, added protective devices, and simulated extreme conditions. The system’s stability has undergone a qualitative leap.”

In addition to Kurt Debus, Rudolf Arthur was also present—he was responsible for the propulsion system improvements in the Mercury manned program.

So he was here too.

Rudolf Arthur desperately wanted to mend his relationship with Lin Ran and feared Lin Ran and James Webb would shatter NASA’s existing structure.

He smiled and added: “When handling manned spacecraft, our fault-detection mechanisms are thoroughly established—from system testing and data analysis to fault tree analysis—we examine failures from multiple angles.

We ensure the astronaut returns safely.

Professor Lin, rest assured, NASA’s rigor and professionalism are as reliable as your work in mathematics.”

Kurt’s fingers brushed the edge of the blueprint, his eyes fixed on the intricate lines—these were the results of countless nights of labor by NASA engineers and researchers.

Lin Ran pretended not to know Rudolf Arthur, inwardly verifying that the blueprint matched his memory exactly.

He knew clearly: if the timeline remained unchanged, this launch would repeat the same mistake as in history.

In the open field, James Webb asked about the astronaut’s condition: “Gilruth, how are the astronauts prepared? Alan Shepard, Gus Grissom, John Glenn—who will be the final pilot?”

“Without doubt, it’s Alan,” Gilruth answered without hesitation. “He’s one of the best pilots—his physical and psychological fitness is impeccable. He understands the mission’s significance and is ready for the challenge.”

Soon after, Webb met Alan Shepard, the man about to write history. Shepard wore his training suit, standing tall, his face bearing the steely resolve of a soldier.

He extended his hand and shook Webb’s; his palm was warm and firm.

“Alan, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Webb smiled.

“Administrator, I’m honored,” Shepard replied, his voice low and steady.

“How do you feel about this mission?” Webb studied his eyes, seeking deeper meaning.

Shepard smiled: “Excited, and a little nervous—like my first fighter jet takeoff. But I trust my team, and I trust Freedom 7. It will take me up, and it will bring me back.”

Shepard was indeed highly professional.

In the original timeline, Freedom 7 began rolling left approximately 2 minutes and 15 seconds after launch, at a rate of about one degree per second.

The automatic control system failed to correct this; the roll rate soon increased to about ten degrees per second.

Shepard switched to manual control and successfully halted the roll.

Fortunately, they chose Shepard—otherwise, Freedom 7 would have become a disaster.

Webb patted his shoulder: “You represent America’s hope. This launch may be broadcast live across the entire nation.”

Shepard nodded firmly: “I won’t let them down.”

Leaving the control center, James Webb and Lin Ran walked along the streets of Cape Canaveral. Once barren sand dunes, the area now thrived with life thanks to the space program.

Military bases and research facilities stood shoulder to shoulder; the air buzzed with a tense, electric excitement.

Tourists along the roadside craned their necks toward the launch pad.

Back on the private jet, Lin Ran and James Webb sat facing each other.

“Professor Lin, what’s the verdict?” James Webb asked urgently.

“As I expected, Freedom 7’s control system has a serious unresolved flaw—and they haven’t found it,” Lin Ran whispered close to Webb’s ear.

“We must warn them immediately!” Webb did not want this to happen under his tenure.

A failure in the first manned spaceflight would be a scandal far worse than a live rocket explosion.