“Irina, can you help me refit the yacht?” He had tracked down the former engineer in the canteen. She seemed to be enjoying a huge pudding.
“So you got the assignment? I thought you would.”
“What did you think?”
“It was logical to send you.”
Irina was perceptive. He could not pretend. She’d notice and get angry with him.
“I thought the same.”
“So what do you need from me?”
“I don’t have anybody else I can trust. Zero mistake policy on the refit—it would be my death otherwise. Just look at our colleagues,” he said, finishing on a special note of disdain.
“I hear you,” said Irina. “I need to check with the boss, but I’d love to help you.”
“Boss is good. I get all that I need. Anything at all. Comes right from the top.”
“Tell him you need a real beef steak. The cook told me he had some in cold storage, especially reserved for the boss.”
“I can try.” Artem laughed.
“When do we start?”
“Right now, Irina, right now.”
An hour later they stood before the sleek rocket. The yacht was perched on top. Irina shielded her eyes with her right hand. The sun dazzled them, despite standing low. There was no atmosphere here to take the bite out, and he would get many million kilometers closer still. The sun would become so big in the bullseye window of the ship that nothing else would be in view.
“A little plump, your yacht,” said Irina.
“I have no idea who planned that.” Elegant or chic really didn’t describe the crew capsule, which looked more like a chubby bullet.
“Any ideas for the shield?”
“No. Just getting the balance right will be a challenge. Just look at it.”
They needed to attach a heavy, disk-shaped shield to one side of the yacht without losing stability for the entire rocket. Mercury had only one-third of Earth’s gravity, but a launch was far from child’s play here, either. The load had to be distributed evenly.
“It would be a lot safer if we could do that in orbit,” said Irina.
“Hmmmm.”
“Well…”
Artem wanted to scratch his crotch, but then he noticed his spacesuit was in the way. If it had a flap he could pee on the Mercury desert. He smiled at that idea.
“What’s wrong?” his helper asked.
“I was just imagining how I… not important.”
“How you what?”
A flap, sure. They didn’t need to mount the shield down here. He’d take it on the ship and unfold it in orbit.
“No matter. I just had an idea.”
“Get it out in the open,” said Irina.
Artem cringed at the idea, then deflected. “You ever heard of origami?”
“Japanese folding cranes?”
“All kinds of figures, but yes. A British space company applied it to space technology in the 30s.”
“That was before my time.”
“Before mine, too. But I heard about it on the History Channel.”
“Doesn’t sound like it was a success.”
“No, Irina. They didn’t need to carry big stuff in rockets with limited space anymore, shortly after that.”
“Sure, since starting space manufacturing and assembly. That is quite a bit more practical.”
“We could fold the heat shield using origami. Then I take it up in the capsule and unfold it in orbit.”
“That sounds feasible,” said Irina.
“I sure think so, too. Headquarters can probably get us old plans.”
“You have another big headache, Artem.”
“Fuel, I know. I transferred it away myself.”
“We have enough water here to split into hydrogen and oxygen.” Irina pointed to the shadows thrown onto the ice by the crater wall. “The necessary tools are in storage for an emergency.”
Artem sighed. “That is going to be hard work, pulling the machines out here and wiring it all,” he said.
“That’s what you have me for.”
“Go ahead, press the button, Irina.”
It was 2000 hours, official base camp time. Artem’s stomach growled perceptibly but he had no rations on him. Three spotlights illuminated the tech jumble in front of them. There was the melting machine. Irina stood beside it, shovel in hand and ready to load ice into the funnel at its top. She pressed a red button. If all went well, water would be running through a short tube into the separator where the water would be split into hydrogen and oxygen. Both gases would be cooled and bottled. The bottles were to be carried to the rocket, emptied, and returned for more. Earth insisted they work through the night. Energy came through long cables from base camp supplies.
It was surreal to an extreme. They stood in the darkest night with bright sunshine only 50 meters away. Machines running, pumps pumping, yet no sound other than life support humming inside a spacesuit.
“System started,” said Irina.
“Keep your fingers crossed then.”
Artem went from machine to machine. So far everything was working. The machines were like black boxes to him. They had been constructed back on Earth, with a focus on allowing idiots like himself to operate them. Irina probably knew more about them, but even she would not be able to repair anything. The days of grease monkeys switching out gears had been over for a long time.
“It’s starting,” he said. The cryo unit had come online, cooling the gases to liquefy and press them into bottles.
“Excellent,” opined Irina, cramming the funnel with additional ice.
“I can’t believe everything is running so smoothly,” admitted Artem.
“Be glad for it.”
“Base camp calling exterior work team.”
Mikhail’s voice spooked Artem. Was this bad news in the making?
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Headquarters has transmitted origami plans.”
“Do I need to…”
“No need for nothing. They congratulate you for the idea and have sent the modified construction plans already.”
“That was quick.”
“What do you expect? It is the research facility with the highest budget on the planet.”
“Thanks. We’ll need all night out here.”
“Shouldn’t you take a break? You must be getting hungry.”
“We will take turns hourly.”
“Then you will be happy to learn that your heat shield is being assembled by fabrication units in the lab wing. It looks like things finish tomorrow evening.”
“Thanks, Mikhail.”
“Base camp over and out.”
“Did you get that, Irina?”
“Yes, I heard it. You can leave tomorrow then.”
“I need to sleep a few hours first.”
“Will you take me along? There won’t be a single decent person here when you are gone.”
The request touched him. But Irina didn’t know him at all. A pity he had not met her before. He should have left his cabin more often. On the other hand, that would just have created additional problems now.
“Don’t get angry with me but I work alone, I always do. There is no room, anyway.”
May 15, 2074, Earth Orbit
“I’d like to present Mike.” Heather pointed to the ball of electronics above her head. “And I am Heather Marshall. In my previous life I was an astronomer at DKIST. I suggest we stick with first names, okay?”
Being the most senior Ark resident, she had taken the responsibility for starting introductions amongst the group members. They had gathered together in the same meeting room where Callis had discussed the spaceship construction with her. It was still rather small for four people, but to Heather it felt larger than it had a few days back. She seemed to be getting used to things up here. It probably would be better to avoid open spaces for a while after getting back to Earth.
“I am sorry that it is so cramped in here,” she continue
d, “but that will be our routine for the next few months.”
“I am Callis John. I was lead member on the last solar mission at JPL, and I am looking forward to traveling with you all.” Callis briefly looked up at an empty spot above him. “As you can see, I have deactivated my assistant. However that is not permitted until you have been here for 72 hours.”
“I have been wondering how to get that thing to shut up. I am Amy Michaels. I got out of space a while back, but they convinced me that I would be needed one more time.” Amy appeared to know that she did not have to mention her past. Heather compared Amy’s face to her memory of the astronaut. The commander had hardly aged at all. If I can look this good at 70, I will be more than pleased with myself.
“That only leaves me,” said the man whom Heather could thank for this excursion. He had a noticeable accent, but his grammar was good. “I am Alain Petit, lay astronomer and degree-holding engineer. Sewage is my specialization. If the toilet ever fails I can repair it.”
“Oh, now that is a true luxury, to have an expert in that field with us,” said Amy. She couldn’t help but be reminded of Martin’s repairs during the second mission on ILSE so many years ago.
Alain raised an eyebrow, not knowing what to make of her statement.
“I am serious,” Amy continued, “those toilets fail far too often, and morale takes a real hit every time. Besides, you are our head of life support, too.”
“Yes, and you would be surprised how advanced air supply and filtration, and waste-disposal technology in a luxury hotel or an office building has become. All those environmental regulations! I have checked it out, and I can tell you that life support on a spaceship is primitive in comparison.”
“In addition to being your commander, I also am your doctor,” said Amy, changing the topic. “Please let me know whenever you are having issues. I won’t hide my concern about our medical equipment. They omitted bringing a robodoc since we won’t be away for more than three months. If something serious comes up, you will have to suffer under my scalpel. But probability for that is pretty low, thankfully.”
“When can we see our ship?” asked Alain.
“Good news,” answered Callis. He checked his pad for the time. “In 40 minutes one of the interns will fetch us. There will be a brief tour and you can move in.”
“Launch is planned for tomorrow,” added Amy, “assuming the last of today’s tests go well.”
“The latest word is that things are looking good,” said Callis, “I watched the integration of the DFD earlier today, a very impressive piece of technology.”
“It does have its drawbacks, I can tell you!” said Amy.
We should have lots of opportunities to hear the stories, thought Heather. She was glad the launch was imminent. The waiting was unbearable, and more than once she had considered taking the next transport back to Earth. She didn’t fit into this group. She lacked the drive the others all seemed to have. Heather did her job, make no mistake, but then she was ready for downtime—preferably a glass of wine outdoors in a green place, or looking over the ocean.
The intern pulled her out of her thoughts. The young woman had opened the door to the meeting room and stood waiting in the hatch. Most likely she didn’t dare to interrupt. Amy, Alain, and Callis had their heads together discussing something. Maybe it was zero gravity, whatever, but it did look like the men respected Amy, their commander. Amy deserved it, being the legend she was. Heather felt a pang of jealousy regardless—Callis chasing her had felt so good.
“You are looking to pick us up?” asked Heather in an effort to get the attention of the group.
“Yes, Karl Freitag sent me. Would you please follow me?”
The crew trooped along. Heather knew the Ark corridors quite well by now. They were heading toward the same airlock she had come through on her arrival. The new solar explorer happened to use that very same airlock now. If that wasn’t a sign, what would be? But what was the sign telling her?
“I came through this airlock when I first entered the Ark,” Heather told Callis as they halted in front of it.
“You remembered that?”
She nodded.
Karl Freitag had been expecting them. Heather waited for a little speech, but she was not very surprised to see him open the hatch and say, “This way please,” rather unceremoniously.
Amy entered first, being the commander. Heather followed right behind her, somewhat disappointed at second place, although there was no reason to be. On the other side of the airlock, things were no different from the Ark. It didn’t even smell new. Machine oil and sweat were the dominating odors, not very surprising given that the modules had been taken out of several places in the Ark habitat.
There were three separate areas, each with a circular cross-section. The airlock was at the end of the common room. There were no private cabins here. Each of them had a berth that receded into an alcove-like section of the wall and could be closed off by a curtain. The four berths were on one half of the cross-section and the sanitary area was right opposite. It was a bit like a locker room combined with a shower and a toilet. That would be the biggest issue for Heather.
The middle module was entered through a lockable hatch. It looked like a mixture of lab, workshop, and fitness studio. The treadmill and bike would be in use for several hours of every day. The workshop was full of spare parts and little machines. A special fabricator unit had been provided, too. It would enable them to build anything they might happen to need, as long as the suitable raw materials were available to be processed. Apparently that even included food.
Instead of alcoves there were lockers along the walls. Karl Freitag opened up a few doors to show their contents.
“The inventory is fully recorded in the computer,” he explained.
The lockers had codes. Only one had a clear label. ‘Weapons,’ it read.
“What are those doing here?” asked Amy, pointing at the arms locker.
“Those are ‘just in case.’ You will be investigating an alien construction. Who can promise us the constructors were peace-loving benefactors? At a minimum there might be guard facilities,” explained Karl.
“Couldn’t we get some extra tools instead? I don’t feel comfortable with those,” replied Amy.
“I am sorry. I have instructions from on high. And there is information that makes me personally request that you agree to take the weapons.”
Heather noticed the head of security looking for the right words—and holding information close to his vest. She looked at Amy, who didn’t press the issue. Maybe it was better that way. She had gotten the impression Karl would have shared more if he could have.
“What about the other supplies?” asked Amy.
“One moment, please.” Karl Freitag did an about-face turn and moved down toward the common room floor.
“Do you see this trapdoor? There is a narrow aisle below that allows you to retrieve the content of the supply container. Be warned, physics prevents the shield from fully covering the aisle, so you should not spend too much time down here. Would you like to look inside?”
Amy waved it off.
“Okay, let’s continue upstairs then.” Karl pushed himself up, passing through the common room and the lab module, leading them into the command module.
“This is your living room and work space,” he said. Each of the astronauts had an armchair here.
“You will all need to sleep here during acceleration and deceleration—the bunks won’t work for that,” explained the head of security. He indicated a button and pressed it, and the piece of furniture transformed into a lounger. “It’s very comfortable. You should try it out. I wish I had one of these, but it is only half the fun in zero gravity.”
Alain took him up on the suggestion and tried to lie down but it would not work, because gravity was necessary to keep a person in place.
“There is a retractable display in the armrest.” Karl bent over one of the armchairs, pulling on the armrest. A di
splay unit slowly appeared.
“It is mostly an interface to the onboard computer, but you can also pull up your own virtual machine with your private computer. That will be encrypted so the onboard computer has no access,” explained the head of security. “For us the advantage is that the onboard computer won’t suffer if you blow up your VM.”
“Can I check out solar images with that?”
“I’ve heard about your hobby, Alain,” said Karl. “Sure you can. I hope you recover the pole position.”
“What about AI support?” asked Amy.
“AIs are more regulated since the latest incidents. But your request has been honored, Amy. You get a fresh Watson install.”
“How fresh?”
“It’s a fully-equipped AI, but without any experience of a space flight. You should know that the risk of unexpected reactions and failures increases with the accumulated experience of any given AI.”
“I’ve never had such an experience, but I’ll trust you on that, Karl.”
So they would be five, not four. Heather was curious. She had never worked with an AI before. After an initial phase where they seemed to be installed everywhere, things had gotten a lot more restrictive in recent years.
“That’s it for our quick tour. Amy, I’d like to explain the controls in a moment. Other than that you just need to grab your luggage from the Ark.”
“Just a moment, please,” said Amy. “Crewmates: We will take off tomorrow morning at 0800 sharp. Make sure you’re on board in plenty of time. I will sleep here and you are welcome to join me.”
No thanks, thought Heather. She was going to enjoy the privacy of her tiny cabin for the last time in many months.
May 15, 2074, Mercury
Silent Sun: Hard Science Fiction Page 12