Many years ago I was lucky enough to witness a nighttime Space Shuttle launch at Cape Canaveral. That experience was awesome, the power of a gigantic spacecraft lifting up on thrusters that looked as bright as the sun even after dark.

This time, though, what I watched was the triumph of geniuses and entrepreneurs doing something that others said was impossible. A consortium has offered the "Ansari X-Prize" -- a $10M prize to anyone who launches a spacecraft carrying the equivalent of three passengers to the edge of space, and return them to Earth; then do it again within a two-week period (to prove that the technology is reproducible, not a one-shot).

Paul Allen (co-founder of MicroSoft) sponsored one of the entries, SpaceShipOne, a slick-looking innovative design that is ferried up to about 40,000 feet by a special airplane, White Knight, from which it drops, then lights its rocket which takes it up to 360,000 feet, the edge of space.

My friend Harry, who works on the SpaceShipOne team, offered me a VIP invitation . . . but unfortunately he asked me when I was in the middle of an exhausting book-signing tour for DUNE: THE BATTLE OF CORRIN. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was travel somewhere *else* two weeks after I came home, so I politely declined his invitation. Harry held my shoulders, looked me in the eye, and said "Are you crazy? This is HISTORY." There would be a public observation area for the launch with 8000 people expected; a media area with about a thousand media representatives. And then a separate VIP area for about 200 of us. And because he was part of the spacecraft team, Harry could get me out of the VIP area and onto the runway itself. He said again, "Are you CRAZY?" So I changed my mind.

I flew out to LA last Tuesday, drove to Lancaster, the nearest town to the Mojave desert air field where the launch would take place. Next morning, up at 3:30 in the morning, I got ready and drove out to get to the airfield by 5:30.

It was a real carnival atmosphere, tents and exhibits and a huge big screen TV, people crowding next to the fence, watching the runway in the cold desert predawn. Of course I bought T-shirts, hats -- how many times do you get to see the first launch of the first independent spacecraft? The sun rose, the excitement built, and we all gathered close to the runway to watch the carrier aircraft ("White Knight") cruise by with SpaceShipOne slung underneath it. It raced past us with a roar echoed by our cheers, and then it took off, a beautiful swan in the sunrise.

For the next hour White Knight circled and climbed, always visible against the blue backdrop, rising up to its maximum altitude of 40,000 feet. When White Knight released the ship, it dropped, then the rocket kicked in. We could see the plume shoot straight up into the air, rising and rising. I felt tears in my own eyes, other people were whistling, cheering, crying. Then once the ship got out of sight, we turned to the big screen TV and the telescope images, watching the ship climb and climb; reach the top of its orbit, then start to spin unexpectedly. Gasps and very audible concern among the crowds. But the pilot got the ship under control within a few seconds, then began his descent.

While it was still out of view, we heard the thunder of the sonic boom as the ship came down. More whistles and cheers. The sky seemed full of chase planes. Binoculars passed around, people staring into the bright and empty desert sky, and then finally somebody spotted the ship on its way down. Beautiful, beautiful, it just glided down to the runway, landed like a charm, and then SpaceShipOne cruised slowly down the runway and stopped in front of the VIP area, where we all got to take pictures. I came close, grinning in front of the ship, got my photo taken. 

Afterward, I sat in my first press conference surrounded by reporters that I had seen on CNN, NBC, ABC. The excitement still hadn't died down (though the reporters seemed most interested in blowing the "scary spin" into a near-tragedy). I found it very moving and unexpected when a representative from the FAA named the Mojave field "America's first commercial spaceport." Think about that.

To win the $10M prize, the team had to repeat the launch within a two-week period. They went up four days later, successfully, and it was well covered on the news. Now I suppose I can answer, honestly, that I write "mainstream" fiction!

-- Kevin J. Anderson
    October 7, 2004