Ford lost in The Oval Office
Ford was in a daze. As he left the Oval Office, he saw Soraya was waiting in the car. She got out and opened the door. This was the commission of a lifetime, but ridiculous. Why didn’t he explain the difficulties more fully to the president? Of course, he felt flattered and buoyed up by the success of the Wilson operation, but…
Soraya was trying to catch Ford’s eye, but he was too absorbed in the clutch of papers on his lap. On leaving he had been given a folder marked ‘Confidential’. Laid out plainly was what Luther wanted to achieve.
It was candid, starting with budget (too little), the time frame (impossible), the technology (undeveloped) and the risks of failure (high).
Ford was the only person in NASA that Luther Garvey thought had the right ‘left brain’ to take it seriously. Ford’s use of hundreds of amateur astronomers had not only saved money, but also improved accuracy when tracking Wilson. The president had also been impressed by how Ford had brought the old observatory back into use to track the event.
The president promised the mechanism of state and the personnel needed would be made available, as well as the diplomatic outreach for multinational co-operation.
Luther was cancelling military programmes to free up resources. The president knew it was the only time he could go for something so risky. It was his second term and he did not need to worry about re-election. If the other party were elected, they wouldn’t support it, so it was imperative to get it ‘off the ground’ now.
The president had been frustrated in achieving many of his original goals. But there was one thing he could do. To be a leader you have to lead. The world was a mess, but if humanity could see a bigger picture, it might proceed with greater consideration and care.
If life was found on Mars, it would put humanity’s sea of troubles into true perspective. There was one simple question: ‘If not now, when?’
The initial report was to be confidential. Ford was to keep this only between his colleagues and close family. He looked up from his papers and became aware of Soraya’s presence. ‘Thanks for waiting all that time.’
Soraya took her opportunity. ‘How’d it go? What’s he like?’
Ford fumbled in his pocket. ‘Great! Full of surprises. He gave me this, by way of thanks.’ Ford held up the little scorched rock.
Her eyes widened in the mirror. ‘So you save the planet and he gives you a pebble!’
Ford’s journey home flew past, and it was getting late by the time he lined up his landing on the distant strip. The wind was north-east, so he landed with the warm light of the setting sun lighting up the woods and the shadows of the terminal almost reaching his path. He was eager to get home and tell Jane – in confidence, of course! She shared his life and would share his secrets. What an adventure it promised to be, and he was going to need all her support.
As Ford approached their farm, he saw the light on in ‘the den’ – Jane was catching up with her regular ‘secret lives’ paper for the ETA journal. All this Wilson business had been disruptive. Ford’s stress and the tension had completely disturbed her equilibrium. At least if the ‘end of the world’ scenario had happened she would have had a good excuse for missing her deadline. The sound of the car pulling into the yard stopped her. Ford was excited to tell her all the news, but also felt a little guilty. He’d forgotten to even text her! He knew she worried about him flying his ‘old crate’ but his mind had been buzzing. She’d even made a leek flan with sweet potatoes and tomato salad to welcome him home.
Ford crossed the dark yard. Macks rushed to greet him. Ford’s mind was on Jane, though. He couldn’t tell the dog about his day.
Jane’s beads rattled as she wrapped her arms around him. ‘I wish I could have come with you! Come on, I’ll open a bottle.’
‘Look, the president gave me this!’ Ford opened his hand to show her the precious piece of the asteroid.
‘A pebble?’ Jane uncovered a lot of these when grubbing about for insects. Then, holding it to the light, she appreciated its significance. Under the scorching were green and yellow tinges of glass and streaks of metal. ‘Wow! Of course. It’s come a very long way. What else did he give you?’
‘A job, honey – a hell of a job!’
Over a bottle of Glyndwr 2010, Ford went through his audience with the president. Jane’s mood went from excitement to growing apprehension. She was quiet for a while and didn’t want to crush him. Finally, she looked at his expectant face. ‘It sounds like a wild goose chase, honey! He’s giving you two years to do something that could take twenty. And that “trailer” you’ve been making for years is still without windows!’
All she could see was massive disruption followed by disappointment. She cleared the table and washed up at the old white sink, gazing out of the window as she tried to see it all in perspective. The low crescent moon and the unmistakable bright red dot of Mars were in close conjunction. That was one of the lovely things about living here – the stars. She had grown up with them in Wales, and it felt like home.
She held her thumb up against the glass and made two dots in the condensation: one for the moon and a small one for Mars. There was no more than 2 inches between them, so maybe it wasn’t so very far after all. Life was never going to be quiet with Ford and she just loved his enthusiasm, even if she felt compelled to crush it at times.
Ford was now standing by her, drying cloth ready in hand.
‘OK, cariad, just go for it!’ said Jane. ‘There’s one thing, though. Promise me, please?’
Ford would have agreed to anything to have her support.
Jane looked out of the window again and drew a small square lower down in the condensation.
‘Just finish that bloody trailer!’
Chapter 5
The Team Begins
Ford had worked late into the night to the rhythm of the grandfather clock to prepare the briefs and Jane had taken the opportunity for an early night. In the early hours, the farmyard cock’s crow broke the night as Ford finally got on to the budget ‘brief’. The dark sky was losing its depth and a faint glow was in the east. Aware he would need some sleep before travelling to headquarters, he kept this report brief.
He wrote: ‘A billion dollars short of any sensible budget. You are going to have to do a lot of politics, make alliances and make sure the teams don’t waste a penny on peripherals. This boat will not be lost from a lack of luxuries, but for the want of a nail.’
Bed at last, tiptoeing across the creaking boards, he very cautiously joined Jane’s sleeping form.
Jane Sleeping
The meeting room that would become the headquarters of the mission dated back to the Apollo days and was anything but high tech. Tired walls, brown chipped veneer table and mauve chairs – the kind that are mistakenly bought to ‘brighten the place up’. Opening a dark panelled door revealed a large whiteboard, which also served as a projection screen. On the west wall was a long strip window with a view over the wooded suburbs, with the bright haze of the ocean shimmering above the city beyond. Opposite hung a series of old photographs of crews of historic missions. Underfoot was a carpet, coffee-stained and threadbare.
In order to instil a sense of urgency, the chairs were stacked. His team were now standing and checking each other out around the Formica table – a mix of familiar faces and new kids, as if on the first day of big school.
Ford felt nervous. He was not unfamiliar with leadership, but this was new territory, as the pace would be daunting.
After his meeting with Luther Garvey, Ford had split his time between planning and putting together the team. With only ten weeks to complete their initial work, the task would be split between four groups with specific areas to investigate. If they didn’t get it right, there would be no project. Ford felt like a new national football team manager. To be successful he’d need to bring together their individual skills and inspire them to work as one unit. He was fairly sure of his own players, as they had all work
ed together for years and were hot off the trail of tracking Wilson. Some of the new faces came with formidable reputations. But the politics and the PR were two completely new disciplines, and he feared these ‘wild cards’ Stephen and Yasmin might need high maintenance. He quaked at the sight of the health-and-safety manager, the infamous Edward Stalk, already checking out the room for hidden risks.
The room smelled of a mix of coffee and the lilies Sharon had arranged when she’d helped Ford set up the meeting. Sharon took a broad brief in her role as mission planner and understood esprit de corps. She had also persuaded him to expand the meeting into a social event later on.
Ford had prepared a short speech. Looking up over his glasses, he was surprised to hear an authoritative voice start up to his left. ‘I am Stephen Dyer…’ There was a dramatic pause. ‘My duty over the last few years has been identifying problems and eradicating them. I’m hard-nosed and don’t do bullshit! My thankless role in this mission will be to put your proposals through the mill – a devil’s advocate.’ Then, with a slow, thin smile, he nodded at Ford.
Stephen appeared pleased with the first move on his mental chessboard.
Ford bristled inwardly before trying to make light of it. ‘Anyone else like to set out their stall…?’
He was perplexed. It was not the brief he had been promised by the White House. He changed his tack. Instead of a prolonged group gathering, he cut his speech and announced he was going to meet each group individually, ending with Stephen. His truncated speech summed up the mission: ‘Four issues to solve: time, equipment, crew and budget, and two outcomes: remarkable science and a safe return.’
Time – Luther’s agenda was totally artificial; the only feasible time to visit Mars was when it was closest to Earth as the distance between them was so great. Their elliptical orbits passed each other every twenty-one months. In three years’ time the distance between the two would be the shortest. It was sheer luck that Luther’s political timeframe worked perfectly with the science.
In any event, it was a long time to be in space. As distances go: if the moon is one small step, say a yard, Mars is 200 more – a real giant leap.
When you got there you would want to stay long enough to make it all worthwhile. In any case, you would have to time your return so that the Earth was still at its closest. Almost two years in space!
Team One’s task: timescales, provisions, supplies, and fuel needed to make it there and back. Fortunately they could build on established knowledge, as many rockets had been sent to Mars, but the biggest lander was the size of an empty SUV. This trip would need the equivalent of the SUV, its passengers, a large caravan, a petrol station and a small supermarket, and with a return ticket!
Equipment – Team Two: the hardware needed to make this incredible journey.
Politicians do not weigh up all the factors in setting their goals.
Winston Churchill did not have a plan for winning the Second World War. ‘KBO!’ he would exclaim – something would turn up.
To be successful in life, it helps to be an optimist.
The fact that the USA had no rocket big enough for the task had not crossed Luther’s mind. Where there’s a will there’s a way, was his mother’s maxim. It’s not rocket science to know you will need a rocket, but for this mission, at least two would be necessary.
If the Earth were an apple and the moon a grape, Mars would be a lime.
Sizes of Earth, Moon and Mars
A mighty Saturn V rocket leaving Earth was a spectacular sight, but for all its size it had only had to deliver the tiny command module to the surface. Due to the moon’s small gravity (one-tenth of Earth), Eagle needed only two small rockets, one to land and the other to blast the capsule back at 2,000mph to join the command module, which then thrust them home.
Mars’ gravity is four times the moon’s, so getting back off the surface needs a more powerful affair, which makes landing far more taxing. There’s little atmosphere to break the descent and no soft seas to splash down in, so lots of fuel will be also be needed. The long journey means another large rocket is required. The whole thing soon becomes an exponential nightmare and the weight of everything is crucial.
Three men can be stuffed in a tin can and be OK for a few days to the moon, but for months of travel, a home is a necessity.
Space isn’t empty, it’s full of hostile radiation. We would appreciate our world and the moon all the more if we understood the protection they give us, cutting out the malicious forces thrown at us by the sun and every other local cosmic cataclysm. This home must also be a shield.
Ford was well aware that there would be strict limits to the payload, because it affected the size of the rockets, the amount of fuel and the project’s viability.
Lunar and Mars Landers
No matter how many times Ford worked it out, the astronauts’ weight could be no more than 200kg. Solving this was Team Two’s biggest task.
Lunar Module – 1968
Weight on Moon: 1.5 tons
Escape Velocity: 1.47 miles per second
*
Mars Expedition – Present
Weight on Mars: 12 tons
Escape Velocity: 3 miles per second
Crew – Team Three was the HR department. In this case ‘Human Resources’ was a reasonably accurate description, as people could do things that machines couldn’t. The longest-surviving rover had covered just over 20 miles.
In Ford’s opinion this assignment would count for nothing if it did not deliver scientific results. The payload really bothered him, as 200kg equalled only two or three crew. Where would they find these new ‘Renaissance’ people? It would be fine if the likes of Melvyn Bragg had a pilot’s licence or Lewis Hamilton had a PhD in geology, and even then, who would clean the toilets? They definitely needed at least six crew to cover all the disciplines required.
The HR team would have to find them and plan for their needs, training and safety. The qualities of the people would make or break the mission.
Who but an idiot would want to do it? Those with these superlative qualities had to be intelligent enough to see the risks and run a mile. There would be a lot of time sorting the sheep from the goats.
Ford was regretting his plan to meet Stephen last; the man had been stalking the place like a lone wolf since the introductions. Finally it was the turn of the ‘Budget’ group. Stephen was part of this group, but had studiously ignored his other team members till now.
The afternoon wore on and at the end of the session everyone went to freshen up or change before the ‘team building’ dinner.
Stephen hung on. ‘Sorry to not play the game, Ford, but I haven’t done second in command and I will be better in an independent role.’
‘OK, Stephen, write your own brief.’
Stephen made a palms-up gesture, and instead opened his black leather case and picked out a beautifully laid-out document.
‘Quick work!’
‘I like to be prepared and organised,’ said Stephen. With that, he turned and left.
Stephen absented himself from the dinner in a curt email. Ford’s keynote address was now to be made this evening.
Sharon had arranged quite an event.
LA-born and bred, she kept her mother’s membership of the Flint Hills Country Club. With her charm and influence, she had secured the prestigious Sky Room, which she felt would make an auspicious start.
Los Angeles
California, USA
34.0N 118.1W
Altitude: 233ft
Geology: Plate boundary
Situated on a ridge were a collection of buildings looking lost in time. In the 1930s this had been countryside, but now it was surrounded by a mishmash of 1950s and 1960s mansions. If it hadn’t been for the golf course, there would have been no open space left – just a sea of leafy suburbia. Pulling into the car park, Ford had noticed a couple of characters hanging round the entrance. They approached him on his way to the door. At first he tried to whisk p
ast them, like a businessman side-stepping a beggar.
All smiles, they were not to be brushed off. ‘Mr Harris, are you here to celebrate your success in tracking the meteorite?’
Ford felt suspicious. ‘What’s it to do with you?’
‘Oh, we’re not staking you out. We’re from the Pasadena Globe and we regularly check out the celebs here.’
‘Well, I’m no “celeb”.’
‘Oh, you are now, Mr Harris, “the man who deafened the planet”.’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that, and I’m a little late,’ Ford retorted as he dodged them and broke free towards the door.
‘Just a word for our readers, please?’
Softening, he turned and shouted back at the young reporters. ‘I didn’t invent Wilson – it was “an act of God”! You should be grateful that we’re all still here.’
Professor Philip Brook was nervous. In all his years he had never got over the terror of facing an audience. He was sheltering in the marbled bathroom before the meal. Ensconced in a cubicle, he read through his short speech and rechecked his slides. Finally he emerged, stopping briefly at the art deco mirror. He straightened his tie and tucked in his shirt. Philip was not part of the mission, but was there to deliver something so compelling that no one would doubt why they were there, nor the need for a manned mission to Mars.
Menu
Under Sharon’s cool direction, the wood-panelled Sky Room had been transformed and a single long table set out with thirteen chairs. She had hung up four huge images of Mars on the walls, each showing one quarter view of the planet. An orange tablecloth and green china gave it a slight 1970s feel. She had positioned the specially printed menus and place names. The teams filed in from the bar, to a background soundtrack of ‘Rocket Man’. The smell of earthy pepperiness pervaded the space as the diners took their places. The double doors flung open and the waiting staff stormed in, wielding bottles of wine and water.
On their tail, with his shambling gait, was Professor Brook.
The Other Things Page 6