“Danger level 2. Breach of EVA protocol. Permission by Mission Control required,” the AI reported.
“For us, Mission Control is offline. Permission by Commander is sufficient. What specific dangers?” Amy asked.
“Erratically increasing acceleration against direction of flight.”
Martin could visualize what Watson’s brief statement meant. The hot gases emitted in the direction of flight—hydrogen and helium-4—posed no danger. Their exit velocity from the engine nozzle was much too high, and the decelerating ship would never reach them. However, the two astronauts would have to climb down a 30 or 50-meter-tall metal monster while hanging on their safety lines. Below them yawned an infinity into which their own inertia tried to pull them. About every two minutes its force would first double, then triple, and so on. Every additional drive coming online would increase the danger of a fall. If they fell, their safety lines would hold them, but that fact would save their lives only for a short while. The hatch they must reach was located just short of the mighty habitat ring, which was still rotating fast. How high was the probability that Francesca and Marchenko would survive this descent? Martin did not dare to estimate that.
He looked at Amy. She returned his gaze. Was she envisioning a similar scenario? She nodded. Martin shook his head.
“We would save another four or five minutes,” she said, “exactly the time Watson needs to turn us into a Saturn orbit in time.”
“Amy, the risk is too great. We would lose them. Then the mission would be over as well,” Martin explained.
“It could be done by four people. I would be in orbit, you on Enceladus, Hayato, and Jiaying in Valkyrie.”
“You know this isn’t a good idea, Amy.”
“But I have to make a decision, this second. If we decelerate too late, all of us will die—only later.”
“Yes.” Martin nodded. I am glad not to be in her shoes and having to choose two human lives against four.
“Watson is wrong,” Martin said an instant later. “The calculated trajectory is based on estimates. There is the density of Saturn’s atmosphere at a great altitude, the exact plunging angle, as well as various safety distances. Watson’s calculation is based on 100 percent safety. We can do it with less.” Martin was surprised how sure he sounded, as he himself wasn’t really convinced.
“Watson,” he then said, “calculate a trajectory to Enceladus with a window of safety of 80 percent. What is latest deceleration moment?”
“46 hours, 3 minutes, 27 seconds from moment 0, Commander.”
“Thank you, Martin. Commander to EVA team. You don’t have to rush.”
“What is going on? Have we lost any chance?”
“No, Francesca. We are going to reach Enceladus. I will explain the rest later. Commander, out.”
The fog display showed the pilot filling the tank of the motor one last time. Marchenko took the empty container from her and carried it back to the storage module, along with his own container. Then they both carefully climbed in the direction of the hatch.
“Outer hatch locked and secured,” Francesca reported ten minutes later. Several hours would pass before they could rejoin the others, as the EVA team first must get reaccustomed to the interior pressure. Plus, the life support system would have to fill all rooms with a breathable atmosphere again. That would happen once the DFDs provided enough energy for it.
“This is the commander, please identify.”
“Identified, I am listening,” Siri replied. Martin had already heard this dialog earlier today. It seems like years ago, he thought.
“Restart fusion drives according to standard protocol.”
“Initiating restart,” said the AI.
A faint, deep rumbling filled the ship. It remained constant. Martin counted and had reached 100 when the sound got louder.
“DFD 1 online,” Siri reported.
Martin looked around. The others seemed to be silently counting as well. He reached 105, and then the rumbling got louder. A slight force pressed him sternward. Jiaying was not fast enough and almost fell on her back. It was time to turn the seats around.
“Siri, reconfigure command module,” the commander stated.
As if by magic, the tabletop moved. The chairs took on a new configuration. Forward was now down. From now on they would have to climb upward to reach their cabins.
“DFD 2 online.”
It was working. They would not suffocate. Amy reached the necessary conclusion. “Watson, stop rotation of habitat ring.”
The solid-propellant engines of the ring fired in the opposite direction and slowed it to a standstill. In the coming weeks, the deceleration process would provide the illusion of gravity.
“DFD 3 online.”
Martin turned optimistic. He no longer counted along. He decided to trust the ship again. After all, he would have to do so in the coming months.
“DFD 4 online.”
“DFD 5 online.”
“DFD 6 online.”
Amy already stood upright, a broad grin on her face. Hayato jumped up. Even Jiaying could not stay in her chair anymore. Martin sighed with relief and went to them. The commander spread her arms wide. All four of them hugged each other. It is a strange, but pleasant feeling, he decided.
Part 2: The Goal
December 7, 2046, ILSE
“The tiny dot, that’s us,” Amy said, pointing to a dot blinking in various shades of green on the fog display. It was located on an ellipse, and at one of its focal points the symbol of a planet appeared in red. The diagram was not true to scale. When Martin looked out the window, he saw a disc almost as large as the window itself. It appeared to have two narrow handles. The rings currently could only be seen from the edge.
“And we have come so far.” The commander placed her hands in front of her belly, and then the scale of the diagram decreased. The ellipse on which the spaceship was moving shrank more and more, until the green dot and the planet symbol almost merged. Now they saw a red line, at the end of which another symbol appeared, an image of the blue planet, Mother Earth, which had given birth to all of them.
Amy snapped her fingers and the diagram started to move. While their home planet wandered around the sun, the green dot went on its journey. It aimed for the red symbol. After a year, the icon for Earth had reached the same spot as during launch, while the red symbol for Saturn had only advanced 30 degrees.
She explained, “As you can see, Saturn made it easy for us to aim for it. It moves through space at only about 10 kilometers per second, while Earth is three times faster, and Saturn has a much longer distance to cover.”
Martin had heard a similar speech during his training on Earth. It feels quite different now because I am flying along in this green dot. The distance we have covered during the past twelve months appears like a huge chasm because we are nine times as far from the orbit of Earth as Earth is from the sun.
“I wanted to thank all of you for what you have done for this mission. And I am particularly grateful because I learned and experienced that you did not just do this for the mission, not for honor or country, but for us. For you,” she said and pointed at Jiaying, “as well as for you, Hayato, for you,” she continued and nodded toward Martin, “for you, for you, and for me. Yes, and for you.” Now Amy pointed at her bulging belly.
“A year ago today we launched from Earth. I have saved up something for this occasion. You probably won’t remember, but before we launched from Earth, I asked each of you about your favorite drink. Marchenko and Hayato, you made it easiest for me. You can share this whiskey. Martin, for you I have a bottle of German beer. Francesca, champagne for you, and Jiaying, you mentioned mango juice. I myself already got the most beautiful present, and I thank you for it.” Martin’s eyes seemed to itch. This must be from the dry air in the ship, Martin silently determined. Marchenko took the whiskey bottle and read the label. Francesca ran her hand through her shaggy hair. Jiaying smiled. She does not smile often, Martin thought,
but when she does, she looks lovely. Martin sighed. He looked at the beer bottle in front of him, and the label was for Budvar, a lager from the Czech town of Budweis.
He tried to remember the time around launch, but he had forgotten many details already. It all happened amazingly fast. He remembered his first trip on a plane. The moment it took off was really impressive, so much so I promised that I’d never forget it. Yet over the years, flying had become as normal as taking taxis.
The same was now happening with his cosmic journey. He remembered the moment in the Blue Origin capsule when he had first experienced weightlessness. The deep black of space, which made me feel tiny like never before—even the vivid blue of my home planet—this left me in complete awe of all this beauty. True, every astronaut returning to Earth raved about this, but it was an experience you could never completely describe—someone had to have shared it. Yet he had a difficult time recalling the thrill he’d experienced in those days when he had thought about space.
Martin got up. He forced himself to break off his musings. The beer was waiting for him. He looked for something to use as a bottle opener.
“If you find any glasses...” Marchenko called after him. Sure, glasses for everyone—and a bottle opener, Martin reckoned.
“Look in Drawer 13b.” Of course, Amy would know where I could find what I am looking for. Martin opened the drawer. He found glasses there, embedded in some spongy material, and even a bottle opener. He returned to the table. As the drives were still decelerating the ship, pouring liquids was no problem.
“Cheers.”
They touched their glasses together in a loud clink. Francesca had poured herself too much, spilled some, and bent over the table to lick up the puddle. Then she laughed. Marchenko stared at her rear. Martin smiled to himself. The Russian noticed this, grinned at him, and licked his lips.
No matter. Martin had not had any alcohol for a long time, so he quickly felt the effects of the beer. It tasted delicious, reminding him of home, and it also made him relaxed and a bit sleepy.
“Cheers.” More glasses clinked. Marchenko gave a short speech, a toast as he called it. How can one say a toast? Jiaying laughed about the term and could not stop laughing, even though she had not had any alcohol. Her laughter was oddly contagious. I can’t help laughing even though it is ridiculous for me to do so, Martin thought. Yet it is so ridiculous that it is funny all over again, particularly since Francesca was now giggling, the corners of Amy’s mouth were moving upward, and Marchenko uttered a roaring guffaw. Hayato appeared to be embarrassed by his five laughing fellow astronauts, but right now even this seemed very funny to Martin. The situation is a scream, and I cannot remember the last time I have felt this way. Maybe, the serious part of himself thought, it is because the threats of the last weeks are now falling off, like a shell. A shell, very funny, his laughing part thought, and then even his serious side lost control.
The laughter only faded when everyone was utterly exhausted. Now and then, someone still giggled. Amy and Hayato were the first ones to retire. Then, with a short interval between them, Marchenko and Francesca climbed up the ladder that led to the habitat ring. Martin looked at Jiaying and had to laugh again. She was giggling. It is time to go to bed, he thought. He got up and walked toward the door until he felt a touch on his arm. He turned around and smiled at the woman who followed him into his cabin.
December 8, 2046, ILSE
Now the routine seemed to be over. This was already the second day on which the normal sequence of shifts had been canceled. They met in the command module at 0800 hours.
“After we all had our fun yesterday,” the commander said, and looked at each of them in turn, “things will get serious today. Therefore I ask for your full concentration.” Then Amy looked toward the still-invisible fog display, where it seemed something was about to happen.
“Watson, describe braking maneuver,” she instructed the AI.
“In order to reach the Saturn moon Enceladus, ILSE has to first get into an orbit around Saturn. However, the craft is moving too fast to get captured by the planet’s gravity. If we simply brake using the drives, the ship will leave the solar system on a parabolic trajectory. I have therefore calculated a course on which the planet’s own atmosphere will help us decelerate. That is the only method to reach an orbit around Enceladus.”
“Won’t there be a danger once we get into the area of the rings?” Martin had been itching to bring up this question. I want to show Jiaying I can also provide the answer. What a silly little boy I am.
Watson replied, “Not in our case. We are moving in the orbital plane of Saturn and Earth. The ring system is tilted 27 degrees compared to it. Our path is clear.”
“Watson, does this mean there is no danger at all? Then, why don’t we just perform that maneuver?” Jiaying’s objection was justified.
“My calculations are based on data collected during previous missions. We know, though, the climate conditions on Saturn undergo temporal variations. We do not have sufficient data about those to form a reliable prediction.”
“So we are flying according to ‘pi multiplied by your thumb?’” Jiaying asked. Martin had told Jiaying about this German expression for an approximate measure last night. She had thought it charming, the combination of a mathematical constant and a human body part. The ideas these thoughtful Germans came up with! he fondly recalled her saying.
Of course Watson understood this, as he could communicate in the languages—and their colloquialisms—of all crew members.
“The plotting of the course is based on uncertain data.” This was about as close as you could get an AI to admit that chance played a great role.
“This discussion does not help us in the least,” Amy complained. Martin had to agree with the commander. She was being very levelheaded, as always.
“So, what is the plan?” he asked.
Amy replied, “I need two astronauts in EMU, already in the airlock and adapted to the lower pressure. In the event the spaceship is damaged due to the stress of this maneuver, we will need to get a repair crew out there quickly.”
Martin, Jiaying, and Hayato raised their hands.
“Hayato, you are going to watch the drive,” the commander said. “It would be particularly bad if it failed at this moment. I know the AI is constantly supervising it, but I want you to look for patterns, anything that seems strange to you, even if it lies within permissible parameters. We need to stop potentially dangerous processes before any damage appears.”
“Then Jiaying and I will go outside?” Martin briefly exchanged glances with her.
“Great, Martin. You two can get suited up right away. Two more minutes,” Amy said.
“Marchenko, I need you in sick bay. My water broke an hour ago. I know this is a bit earlier than predicted, but who knows what is normal in space? Hayato, I should have told you, but I did not want to worry you. But I really need you at the drive. Francesca, could you help us?”
Martin, who was just getting up, fell back on his seat. What did I just hear? And in what calm voice?
“Now go,” Amy said. “The airlock is waiting. Have a nice time.” Then she grinned, as if everything was normal.
Well then, let it be that way, Martin resolved. No big deal. After all, it is only a birth... in space. The gravity created by the braking maneuver will make some things easier, although, entering the upper layers of Saturn’s atmosphere... that might shake things up a bit. Yet everything was normal, all values in the green range. The commander tried very hard to convince them of that.
By now, preparing for an EVA had become routine for Martin. His last mission was three weeks back. Mission Control had been all upset about the repaired radio antenna. After communication had been completely cut, they had assumed the ship was lost. And unlike during the Mars incident a few years ago, there were no observation satellites out here that could have told them otherwise. Nothing else with functioning hardware was currently so far away from Earth. ELF, the
probe that had found the first traces of life 15 years ago, had long since found its final resting place inside Saturn, just like its predecessor Cassini.
He shook his head. The landing will have to wait. Now he followed Jiaying to the airlock. The lower part of the EMU hung loosely around his waist, and he had to hold it so it wouldn’t drop. Jiaying first helped him into the HUT. To do so, she had to lift her arms. Below the long-sleeved ‘shirt’ of the LCVG he could see the outlines of her breasts. She hit him slightly against the upper arm of the HUT and laughed. Martin lowered his eyes. I better not think about last night right now. A sense of uncertainty tortured him. They had talked a lot, and he had probably said more words than he had uttered during the entire flight, but they had not talked about each other. Wasn’t that what you did? Maybe my fellow astronaut considers this a one-time event between adults, where everyone has gained something? This seems to be the case with Francesca and Marchenko. Is Jiaying following this example? It would be better if I got used to this beforehand.
“Don’t dawdle. We have to use the masks.”
Jiaying was right. They had to continue the pre-breathing phase so they would be ready to go outside in time.
“Initiating course change,” Watson reported. Nothing else could be heard, but Martin felt a slight force pulling him forward. In the end, I hope we don’t have to go outside again, he thought. The last excursion had involved a lot of climbing, as the spaceship was still decelerating. Only in the acceleration-free phase of the return trip would the EVAs become easier again.
He imagined the spaceship as heading for the planet, only to brake and reverse at the last moment. In reality, their approach course was going to be rather flat. Watson would continually check how much the outlying fringes of the atmosphere were already decelerating them. They did not have to dip very deeply into the atmosphere. It would be sufficient to slow down the craft enough so that the drives could handle the rest. The goal was 35.5 kilometers per second. If they went slower, the gravitational pull of the giant planet would inevitably capture them.
Ice Moon 1 The Enceladus Mission Page 18