In the heydays of the space program, it was easy to spot the goal. It shone nightly, or at least on most nights, in plain view for anyone who went out and looked up. But the days of simply reaching for the Moon are gone, and the space program has become the space programs.

America does not know where it will go next.

Caught in the middle is the Jet Propulsion Laboratory (JPL), a NASA robotics institute with the expertise to support any of these goals and the desperate need to have one. The institution is at a critical moment in its history. Back-to-back failed Mars missions in 1999. Staff cuts that have gutted talent over the past decade. Decades of rules have been suddenly declared irrelevant to modern space exploration.

JPL employees effectively have put their faith in one man, Charles Elachi, who took over as director in May and has promised to revive the somewhat stagnant technology house.

While some JPL employees are not ruffled by recent problems, others see Elachi as a breath of fresh air. One called the change "invigorating." Said another: "Everybody is ready to move on, to move on to something different."

If by different one means "has done lots of different things," then Elachi is the man.

Charles Elachi has been a JPL scientist for 30 years. He was born in Lebanon and schooled in France and the United States. He holds a doctorate in electrical sciences from Caltech, has a master's degree in business administration from the University of Southern California and another in geology from UCLA. He has published more than 200 scientific papers and written three textbooks. Respect for his accomplishments is even reflected in the heavens, by an asteroid named 4116 Elachi.

As a boss, Elachi has a reputation for being direct, for solving problems in a thoughtful way. NASA's Administrator Dan Goldin called him "both an effective administrator and a visionary."

Without question, JPL needs a reinvented administration and a new vision. But as JPL emerges from what one of Elachi's managers calls its darkest hour, does the new director also have the courage to take some chances?

Outside experts say this is no time for JPL to shy away from risk.

In a recent telephone interview, Elachi spoke about the new goals he has set for JPL and a reinvigorated culture he hopes to engineer in order to make it possible to achieve the goals. At the top of his list is a simple desire: Make JPL a better place to work, where top scientists want to come instead of leave.

If Elachi succeeds, it will be partly due to the fact that he does not hide from JPL's problems. He answers questions head-on, in a manner that indicates he might make a lousy politician.

For example, if you are a JPL scientist and don't like the heavy dose of mission planning and engineering that's expected of a typical JPL researcher, Elachi has a message for you: "Then JPL is the wrong place for you."

One can sense that the 54-year-old director is just as clear, in his own mind, about his private agenda for where JPL will venture in the coming decade, on what grand cosmic trips it will lead America and the world.

But there's another reason Elachi is evasive on this point, one that runs deeper, that marks the difference between his large organization and smaller ones. Elachi is responsible for the hopes, dreams and success of more than 5,000 employees. Were he to pick a pet project, his flock might drop everything else and run to it.

"I'm not going to say there is a single mission," he said, "because then people will say, 'Gee, Charles favors this mission or that mission.'"

Charles Elachi is direct, even when he dodges.

Elachi's dodging has a purpose. It is designed to force others to take leadership roles. Elachi is the conductor, but he does not plan on plucking any strings. Instead, he wants to orchestrate a shift in moral and motivation. And one glaring problem is high on his list of things to solve:

"Everybody at JPL, including the drivers and the business administrators, is at JPL because they're excited about the space program," he said. "But they feel that they are not part of the expedition. All they see is paperwork."

So in addition to setting up a committee to slash rules, plus opening a dialogue with NASA headquarters about increasing basic staffing in order to free engineers to do their science, Elachi has reached into the bag of tricks he collected when he was on the other side of the bureaucracy. He's setting up a regular program of lectures for scientists and engineers to explain their work to accountants, secretaries and people who order parts.

If everyone understands the goals and the missions, the acronyms and the science behind them, then Elachi figures a common sense of purpose will evolve.

"I want them to always be ahead of the engineers, anticipating their needs, and preparing the ground for them. So when the engineers need something, it's waiting for them. And I never want them to say to an engineer, 'You cannot do this.' They should be answering, 'You cannot do this. However, let me show you a legal way how to do it."

Over the next year, Elachi wants to "create an environment of excitement, where everybody looks forward to coming to work every day. Like I do."