Tonight, against the background of the forthcoming space policy, I am directing NASA to proceed with the preparation of a manned mission to Mars, and to do it within five years. Such a mission will permit quantum leaps in our research in science and communications, and our understanding of the nature of our universe.

Just as the oceans opened up a new world for clipper ships and Yankee traders, space holds enormous potential for commerce today…

Source: Public Papers of the Presidents of the United States: Ronald Reagan, 1981 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1981), p.362.

Thursday, April 16, 1981

NASA HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON, DC

Michaels called Tim Josephson into his office. He had loosened his tie and broken open a fresh bottle of his favorite Kentucky bourbon. But there was little mood of celebration, as the two of them sat there sipping their drinks in the half-light; Michaels seemed more exhausted than Josephson had ever seen him.

Josephson raised his glass. “Here’s to you, Fred. You’ve done one hell of a job, these last few weeks.”

Michaels drank. “Yeah. Yeah, so I have. Well, we’ve gotten our announcement out of Reagan. And when I go, I’ll take most of the blame for Apollo-N with me, away from NASA.”

“Fred—”

“That’s my job now, Tim,” Michaels said, his voice harder. “My last assignment. It’s the way these things work. But the biggest job lies ahead, still. Delivering this thing.” He eyed Josephson. “And that’s going to be a job you’ll have to handle yourself, Tim. I’ve already made my recommendation to the White House.”

Josephson had been expecting this, but still, panic spurted briefly in him. “I’m — delighted by your faith in me, Fred. But, am I the right guy? Hell, I’m a backroom boy. A functionary; a natural follower.”

“Jesus Christ, don’t you think I know that?” Michaels snapped. “But I also know there’s no better candidate available. You’re just going to have to overcome your weaknesses, Tim. You’ll get there if you work at it.”

Josephson hid a smile behind his glass. “Thanks, Fred. Hell, I’m going to miss you.”

“And I want you to lean on Muldoon. Use him. The two of you should make a hell of a team.”

“I’ll remember that.”

Michaels stared into his drink. “You know, sometimes I think we’ve lost something along the way in all this. I mean, the people furthest from the decision making have been the guys whose idea it was in the first place — the engineers of Langley and Goddard and Marshall — people who have given their whole lives to dreams of spaceflight. People like Gregory Dana. We take their studies and reports and use them as ammunition for our games of politics. But all that visionary stuff about exploration and destiny, all their efforts to stretch our hearts and minds — it’s gotten lost somewhere.”