Choi took her seat next to Harris and waited silently for him to speak, attempting to calm herself before the coming barrage of questions and answers.
"Deployment of the TES unit will commence in ten hours." Harris got right to the point. It's one of the reasons Choi agreed to serve under him. "The ground crew will follow one hour after touch down."
Harris took time to look each crew member directly in the eyes. "But before you get your feet wet, we need to get you acquainted with your new space suits."
Choi could see the concerned looks already emerging around the table. She wondered how this crew would handle significant discovery if they were thrown out of sorts by a new space suit.
Harris spoke. "We won't be using the bulky suits you had during training. What we have for you is much better. Your work will go much more quickly in these, moving around will be considerably easier and if the worst should happen, they can withstand the polar opposite pressures of open space and deep ocean waters."
Choi picked up a large metal suitcase that sat on the floor next to her chair. She set it on the table, popped the latches, opened it up and swiveled it around so the crew could see its contents.
Inside the suitcase was a folded up, grayish blue space suit that looked as thin and as smooth as silk, along with a matching helmet. Choi took the suit by the shoulders and lifted it out of the suitcase. It unfolded in her hands, looking like a cross between a biohazard suit and a traditional space suit.
She could see the aghast looks on the crew's faces. Knowing they would soon express their doubts as to how this flimsy suit could protect them from both space and ocean depths, Choi launched right into her prepared speech. "This is a newly designed space suit formally called a Personal Multi-Pressure Space Suit, or simply called a PMS."
Choi paused, giving Willard time to finish chuckling.
"It is much lighter than traditional space suits," Choi continued, "and provides ten times the comfort, safety and maneuverability than the old suits. A small pack on the back provides air filtration, heat and pressurization, all controlled by this small screen on the left wrist."
Choi held the left sleeve out for everyone to see.
Robert started to raise his hand. "How—"
"Before you bombard me with questions, let me finish my briefing," Choi said.
Robert yanked his hand down.
"The PMS is made from a flawless silicon reconstruction of spider's silk, which is the strongest natural fiber in existence, only made stronger by man. They are impossible to tear, cut, or pierce. They aid in protecting the human body from radiation, micrometeorites and in combination with a reinforced honeycombed exoshell, they provide a stable, comfortable, pressurized atmosphere."
Choi waited for the first comment. She didn't have to wait long.
"I hate spiders," Willard said.
Choi resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She knew Willard was attempting to be humorous, but his humor was often ill-timed. If it were not for his perfect record when it came to safety and his accurate prediction of unpredictable circumstances, she would have considered leaving him on board Surveyor during the initial landing, if only to avoid hearing more jokes.
"What about the face mask?" Connelly said. "The suit is impervious, but what about the mask? It looks like it could break pretty easily."
Choi kicked herself for forgetting to explain the mask. "The mask is composed of a self-healing alloy. The masks are shatter resistant, but can be cracked under extreme duress. However, if you simply close your eyes, hold your breath and count to ten, your mask will reseal itself at ninety percent its original strength."
"They've been tested in space and excel beyond all our safety standards," Harris said, standing to his feet. "If you could, just gather around. We have suits for all of you and Choi will help you put them on."
As the group stood and began shuffling towards her, Choi felt some relief. Loss of human life had been her enemy—her nemesis—for years. She looked down at the row of suitcases lined up at her feet. The fact that the crew would be wearing PMSs at least meant that something severe would have to happen for one of them to die.
Choi relaxed as she reached down for Connelly's suitcase. She felt certain the crew would be safe. What could be more severe than the bombardment they had already survived?
* * * * *
Sitting motionless for ten minutes straight, Connelly found her palms to be unusually sweaty. Her stomach churned like she'd eaten a cup of butter and her mouth was painfully dry. The symptoms, at first, seemed similar to an anxiety attack. But Connelly's past anxiety had been brought on by simple choices. She had once stood in front of the banana display at the grocery store for fifteen minutes, frantically trying to choose which bunch was best. There was one with five bananas, but they were too small, one with four, but they were too big, and the bunch with five that were just the right size, were too green.
Thinking about her current situation, waiting in the command center, killing time until TES was launched, Connelly knew that this was not a banana episode. She decided to chalk it up to nerves and pushed the subject to the recesses of her mind. Wiping her damp hands on her jumpsuit, Kathy sat up straighter and asked, "How much longer?"
Harris spun around in his console chair. A wide grin was stretched across his face. "Deployment is prepped. We're ready if you're ready."
Connelly felt her stomach stir. She tightened her stomach muscles and bit her lip for a moment.
Why am I so nervous? What am I afraid of?
"Ready," Connelly said, and then looked at Robert, who was seated with Peterson and Willard at a six foot, round table at the center of the room. "Ready?"
"Ah, yes…I've been ready for the past ten hours," Robert said with a grin. Connelly noticed his legs were bouncing nervously. Robert saw Connelly's eye on his legs. "I can't help it. I'm nervous."
Right there with you, Connelly thought.
She stood and shook her hands out, willing the nervousness out of her body. She rolled her shoulders and walked to Harris's side. "What are the chances of anything going wrong?"
The question was meant as space filler—something to occupy her mind. But the way Harris's fingers froze over the keyboard and the suddenness with which he held his breath, told Connelly that it was a loaded question. Harris turned to her and sighed. "You really want to know?"
"I—I guess," Connelly said.
"Cause you look nervous," Harris said with a sympathetic glance.
"I do?"
Harris nodded. "Look, I'm the best there is. I wouldn't be here otherwise. If I can't get this baby to set down on the ice without a hitch, no one can."
Connelly forced a smile.
Harris took her hand and squeezed it. "Just sit back and enjoy the show." Harris pulled a remote from his pocket, pointed it at the ceiling and pushed the button. After turning a hazy white, the ceiling became transparent, revealing Europa.
Connelly instantly felt her apprehension fade away, replaced by a sense of wonder she thought could never fade, no matter how many times she saw this view. Connelly took a seat next to Willard.
"Don't worry, boss," Willard said, "There's an extremophile down there with your name on it."
Connelly gave an unsure smile and returned her eyes to the view above, which was in fact, below. "Please, God, let this work."
"On my mark," Harris said to Choi, who was seated at the next console over. He turned his head to the crew, his smile growing. "Launch."
Choi pushed a single button at her console and a dull thunk reverberated from somewhere else on the ship. Connelly stared up at the clear ceiling. She realized she was holding her breath when her chest began to burn. She let the air out and sucked in another breath. Then something she had never dreamed could be possible floated into view.
The fifty foot, triple diamond shape of TES eased away from the Surveyor, drifting slowly toward Europa. It looked like a black spinning jewel, like some fantastical magical gem. She imagined that entire
nations would have fought and died for TES, and now they were sending her away. Connelly felt a wave of sadness sweep through her, but it was quickly replaced by excitement when a burst of blue flame shot out of TES's exterior.
Connelly gripped the table's edge and opened her mouth. Before she could speak, she clenched her jaw tight, having almost made a fool of herself. The blue flames originated from directional jets installed by the GEC. She had forgot they were there, but quickly remembered what they were. Without them, TES would fall to Europa and crash on impact, destroying her life's work.
TES continued away from the ship, blue jets erupting every now and then, adjusting its course. Occasionally, Connelly would hear Harris or Choi speak some rapid words and work their consoles in a hurry, but her attention was firmly fixed on TES. Connelly broke into a wide smile as TES, which was now the size of a quarter began to open her panels.
She looks like a blooming flower.
The panels opened until they lay out flat, like a defunct radiation symbol. Blue flames burst several times, sending TES into a slight spin as she continued toward the surface. It was soon the size of a dime and in less than a minute, looked like a black speck hovering over the white surface of the moon. Connelly looked away when she could no longer see TES.
"How are we doing?" she asked.
Harris ignored her question and glanced at Choi. "Stabilize."
"On it."
"How are we?"
"A little hot."
"Got it…Altitude."
"Ten."
Ten feet?
"Engage clamps."
"Done."
"Initiate feed."
"Feed is…activated."
"Well done."
Harris and Choi simultaneously leaned back in their chairs, looking very relaxed. Harris glanced up and saw Connelly standing behind him. "Did you say something?"
"Are we? Did you?"
Harris leaned forward, tapped a few keys on his keyboard, and leaned back with a smile. The screen in front of him blinked to life, displaying a white landscape. The sky was dark and covered with stars, the ground was gleaming and in the distance, a patch of red color could be seen. Connelly leaned in close and the rest of the crew gathered around.
Connelly looked back at Robert, who had his hand to his mouth and was chuckling. She looked back at Harris. "Is this?"
Harris cracked his knuckles and let out a slight laugh. "One small step."
Peterson placed his hand on Connelly's shoulder and squeezed. "You did it. Welcome to Europa."
CHAPTER 10 -- GOING DOWN
Willard stepped forward, hearing only the swishing sounds his freshly donned PMS suit made when he moved. He looked at the door in front of him marked, "Decon," and wondered how the process would feel. Decontamination, other than a steaming hot shower, was not part of his daily routine. Not that he minded. Contamination was one of his primary concerns. He'd taken Choi aside after the last debriefing and grilled her about the possible dangers that would be involved with the crew coming into contact with alien biology.
Standing in the doorway of the conference room, Choi appeared to be hesitant at first, but ensured him that the true danger of biological contamination was human to alien. If life exists outside of Earth, and we step into that ecosystem, we are the invaders—we are the invasive species. It occurred on Earth in the 1800 and 1900's when germs, disease and various sycophants brought to the New World wreaked havoc on ecosystems that had no defense. Only the ecosystems that had highly adaptive defense systems survived.
"That is the danger of humankind," Choi said. "In the past we've sought to protect only ourselves from new environments. Not the other way around. The result was the loss of eighty-five percent of the world's plant and animal species."
Willard felt himself relax around Choi for the first time. She spoke passionately and he could swear a genuine smile was seeping onto her face.
It seems our second in command has a soft side after all, Willard thought, for germs.
"But what about the dangers to the crew? If we can infect other species with our germs, what about the other way around?" Willard asked.
"As I mentioned, the human race always protects itself first." Choi leaned against the door frame. "And we're no different. Unlike your typical unintelligent life-form, which develops defenses through millions of years of natural selection, we can prepare for the worst in advance."
Willard nodded.
"The electromagnetic shielding, the PMS suits, decontamination procedures… We're prepared to defend against microbial invaders."
"But how do we know it will work against something new?"
"In theory, we don't."
Willard opened his mouth to speak, but the protest he nearly raised was cut short.
"I designed the decon system myself," Choi said. "I guarantee you, nothing short of a human in a PMS could survive the process."
Willard shifted his weight. "You designed the decon?"
Choi appeared stymied for a moment. Willard wondered if her involvement in the decon system was supposed to be public knowledge.
"I uh, yes. I designed the system."
Willard became more curious. "Forgive me for asking, but what do you know about decontamination? Is that standard astronaut training?"
Choi looked at the floor and then sighed. She returned her eyes to Willard's and took a sudden casual demeanor. "I was with the CDC for a few years before moving to the GEC."
"CDC…" Willard said, letting his mind fill in the full phrase. "You were with the Center for Disease Control?" He didn't hide his rising apprehension.
"My history with the CDC had nothing to do with my qualifications for this mission," Choi said.
Willard wasn't sure whether to believe her or not, but he felt certain he wouldn't get an honest answer if there was more to the story. "A lucky bonus then?"
"Very lucky," Choi said, regaining her relaxed posture. "Their previous decon system had several flaws. The crew and the alien environments will be safer from contamination than ever before."
"How's that?"
"Decon consists of an alcohol solution spray down—three variants, an O2 wash down, an anti-bacterial mist to kill anything that survived the alcohol, a second O2 wash and exposure to low level radiation and extreme heat at the end. We'll be comfortable in our PMS's the entire time. Won't feel a thing. And anything that survived would also have to withstand the vacuum of space. Nothing, microbe or otherwise, could survive. We pass through decon on the way out for the environment's protection and on the way in for ours."
Willard chewed through the information and came up with only one question. "What about the germs inside the suit? You can't decontaminate our bodies."
Choi's eyebrows rose. "Good for you, Mr. Willard. The solitary remaining risk of contamination lies in the rupture of our PMS suits or face masks. The decompression of the suit will pull air out of the suit, still protecting the suit's wearer from contamination, but exposing the environment to any germs the wearer might be carrying. So as far as crew safety goes, we're in no biologic danger."
Willard wasn't sure if he felt better or not, but she had answered his questions and then some. "Guess it would be bad if any of us had an infectious disease then, huh?"
Willard wasn't expecting the response he got to his off-hand comment. Choi's casual demeanor vanished and was replaced by a steely gaze. "Very bad," she said before turning and walking away.
Standing alone before the decon room, Willard now wondered how well the PMS would protect him. If it can survive decon, Willard thought, it can handle space. The light above the door flashed green, signaling that Connelly was through decon and the rest of the crew was now waiting on him before they descended to Europa's surface.
The door slid open, revealing a long, dimly lit hallway. A conveyor belt moved slowly forward, leading to four separate compartments separated by hanging sheets of plastic.
Like stepping into the throat of a whale.
"
Please step forward," a voice commanded.
Willard had heard the voice several times as the rest of the crew went through decon before him, but it still made him jump. He stepped on to the belt and was pulled into the chamber. The hallway dimmed as the hatch sealed behind him. A loud spraying mist coated his body, killing everything it came into contact with.
* * * * *
Lander One's hatch craned up, revealing a bright white landscape that reminded Connelly of Antarctica. If it weren't for the way her body floated in Europa's low gravity, she would have felt right at home. Of course the luminous landscape mixed with a starry sky was something she had never seen before. On earth, when the sun was shining, the sky was blue, but here, on a moon with the tiniest of atmospheres, the skyline was perpetually filled with stars.
After an anxious ride on the Lander, which looked like a cross between a Ferrari and a Winnebago, Connelly took her first step into a low gravity environment with a bit too much jump in her step. She soared seven feet out before landing. Smiling wide, she turned around and looked back as the rest of the crew exited the silvery grey Lander.
Robert leaped out of the open hatch and landed next to Connelly. "Amazing." Robert bounced around Connelly, "So strange."
Willard, Peterson and Choi, exited the Lander and quickly adjusted to their low-grav legs. Choi spoke into her headset microphone, knowing that while on the surface, every one of them, and Harris, who was monitoring them from the Surveyor, could hear every word she said. "Everyone check out?"
Nods and yeses all around.
"Peterson and I will be collecting ice samples from the nearby red streak," Choi said. "Connelly, Samuels and Willard, you will begin the melting process. Check in every half hour. Meet back here in two."
BENEATH - A Novel Page 10