Day One Hundred and Eighty-Four
Abrams dashed around the flight deck, examining the various indicators and switches while checking off items on a checklist attached to a clipboard that he was carrying. Occasionally, he would tap one of the gauges with the back end of his pen and frown.
“Are we good, Abrams?” asked Matthews, peering of the shoulder of the engineer. Matthews and Abrams were the only two that had not strapped themselves down to their seats yet.
“We need to move in twenty,” Matthews reminded Abrams.
“Yeah, I think we’re ready,” Abrams answered. “I just want to run over everything a few times. It’s been a long time since we’ve done the de-orbit simulation.” He scribbled on the clipboard. After fifteen minutes of fervent examination, he snapped the clipboard to the wall, using the magnets that were on the underside of the clipboard. “Let’s do it,” he said as he retrieved his helmet.
Lennon affixed her own helmet while Abrams and Matthews fastened their restraints. She could feel the butterflies forming in her stomach, reminding her of how she felt while waiting in line for her first ride on a roller coaster. This would be a much better ride than a roller coaster, however. No human in recorded history had been where she was going. She closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing.
“You ok, Rebecca?” It was Matthews, holding his helmet and twisting in his seat to see her.
“I’m fine,” she smiled, and gave the thumbs-up sign. “I’m just a little nervous, is all.”
“You and me both, darlin’,” said Dish, “I feel like I’m gonna puke.” He punched some buttons on the console with his index finger. “I love it!”
“You can have this part of the trip all to yourself, Dish,” Parker said with a wry smile, “I just want to get there and get it over with.”
Matthews secured the seal on his helmet and Lennon heard him speak through the speaker in her left ear. “All right everyone, report in when you are ‘go’ for de-orbit.”
“Check,” said Dish and Parker simultaneously.
“I’m good,” said Lennon.
“Ditto,” chimed in Abrams.
“Hold on to your shorts, we’re goin’ hot,” yelled Dish with a cheer, as he started the landing process. “Get ready for the best thirty minute ride of your lives!”
When the crew started the de-orbit procedure, the Mars Lander would separate, along with the flight deck, from the Seeker 3, which would remain in parking orbit around Mars. The Lander assembly would complete the de-orbit maneuver and would land on Mars, earning the designation Lander 1. Seeker 3 would wait in orbit for rendezvous with Lander 1. The rendezvous would happen after the crew left the surface of Mars for the home trip. Over the last four days, the crew had carefully packed the plants from the Atrium, as well as the rats and a selection of stores that included food, medical supplies, and plant seeds for the hydroponic system that would be set up in the settlement. One of the things that Lennon found ironic was the thought of bringing rats to Mars: rats were the blight of ships travelling to the New World so many years ago.
Signal communications from the planet of Mars can take some time to reach Earth. To be exact, from Mars’ current position in orbit relative to the Earth, a one-way message would take ten minutes and twenty-five seconds. At the closest alignment, messages might take three minutes, and at the farthest orbital alignment messages could take twenty minutes to arrive. This presented a unique challenge for landing, because the crew essentially had to perform the landing without any assistance from Ground Control. Granted, the ship’s computers handled most of the landing automatically, but in case of a contingency, the crew was on its own. “Approaching one-hundred and thirty kilometers,” Dish said. When it came down to piloting, he was all business. He was very good at what he did.
“Crew, prepare for atmospheric entry,” added Matthews. Mars’ atmosphere is only 0.7 percent of Earth’s. However, that amount is still more than enough to cause atmospheric drag, which is the slowing of the craft due to the resistance of air.
Lennon had very little to do during the landing process, so she simply let Matthews and Dish do their jobs without her input. Dish’s tinny-sounding voice spoke in her earpiece. “Copy, velocity dropping to seven decimal three kilometers per second.”
The ship began to shake. The vibration was intense, and made it hard to focus on any single object. Dish and Matthews did not seem to notice. After a minute, Dish spoke. “Approaching forty kilometers.” A growing roar accompanied the vibration of the ship.
“Reaching peak heating,” shouted Matthews, calmly.
“I’m not seeing any signs of abnormal structural stress,” interjected Abrams, “cabin temperature is nominal.”
Lennon gripped her chair with an iron grip. No doubt about it, this was intense. There was no way a simulator could have duplicated this experience. She did not know how the pilots did their job. Along with the vibration, the sudden slowing was smashing her into her seat—the Lander purposefully entered the atmosphere aft-end first.
After about a minute, the pressure holding her against her seat eased. Dish flipped a switch on the console. “Approaching eight decimal six. Crew, prepare for parachute deployment.”
There was a loud clank at the front of the lander as the parachute deployed, and then Lennon felt her body smashed into the back of her seat again as the spacecraft rapidly decelerated.
“Six decimal five kilometers; releasing heat shield.” In addition to the relentless roar of the descent, there was a ‘pop’ and a clanking sound behind Lennon.
She could feel the pull of Mar’s gravity, which was now affecting her circulatory system, despite the fact that the gravity on Mars is only a little larger than a third of the gravity on Earth.
No one spoke for what seemed to be a long time, although in reality it was probably only a period no longer than a minute or two. “We are at one decimal five kilometers. Ground acquisition has occurred.”
“Copy. Crew, prepare for landing,” called Matthews.
“Prepare for rocket assisted deceleration,” yelled Dish, trying to overcome the roar of the landing, even though the sound had diminished significantly as the ship slowed.
There was another roar, higher in pitch, with a distinguishably different timbre from the sound of the atmosphere outside of the ship. The new sound was from the solid-fuel rockets attached to the Lander, which were firing to counteract the fall and further slow the descent. The first roar quieted considerably.
“Crew, prepare for landing in five, four, thr—”
There was a loud screech accompanied by the sound of crunching metal. Lennon felt herself pressed into her seat with such force that she was unable to lift her arms up from the armrest on the seat. She felt a snap as her forearm slipped off the armrest and broke from the strain of the downward pull. Something went wrong, she thought, as her body suddenly decelerated to zero velocity. The force was too great for her body to handle, and she disappeared into blackness as the sound of multiple alarms filled her ears.
Lennon awoke with a horrible throbbing in her arm. There was a bright orange light shining in her eyes that made her squint. She tried to move but was unable to. Was she strapped down?
She began to regain her composure. She was in a space suit. Something was holding her down. She turned her head in her helmet, cursing the limited view as her head turned but the helmet remained forward.
There was a large object next to her. With much effort, she lifted her head to get a better view. Her head felt so heavy! She identified the object next to her as another astronaut, lying to her left on his or her back. She looked right and could see the telltale metal rigging of the Mars Surface Vehicle. She was being transported somewhere, lying in the bed of the MSV.
She was outside. On Mars. She involuntarily gasped, and the action brought sharp pain to her chest. Her ribs. They must have been broken. She tried to look at the landscape, but could not lift her head high enough to see. She wanted to see it so
badly. This is what she came for! The Sun shone brightly, stinging her eyes even though the visor was down on her helmet. A cloud of what appeared to be dust blew in front of the Sun, leaving an eerie pale orange light in the area.
She realized that she was breathing in short gasps. Deep breaths hurt her ribs too much. She tried to ignore the mounting pain in her broken arm, but the more she tried to ignore it, the more it hurt. Unable to make the pain go away, she screamed in frustration.
The Martian vehicle went over a small ledge. Despite the lessened gravity of Mars and the suspension system of the Rover, the impact of the drop resonated through her body and filled her with pain. She fell back into blackness.
Lennon awoke again with a chill. She was in a large room with few objects inside. The walls were grey and puffy, as if they were made of a padded material. Inflatable structures. They must have landed successfully in Arsia Mons and made it to the caves. They had chosen Arsia Mons because of the caves, which are suitable for shelter from solar radiation and cold temperatures. Robots had pre-deployed to Arsia Mons before the arrival of the astronauts. The mission planners tasked the robots with finding a suitable cave so that the crew could have a natural shelter while only having to worry about one exposed entrance. Since the atmosphere of Mars is so much thinner than Earth’s, the robots would construct inflatable shelters inside of the caves, structures that could maintain atmospheric pressure, heat, and oxygen content for the arriving astronauts.
Several years ago, the committee of geologists, which included Dr. Maria Parker, had discovered, using the robots, a suitable cave. It was large enough to house the inflatable shelters and the Mars Lander. The crew would eventually move the latter from its landing site and connect it to the shelter for auxiliary power and communication.
Lennon was still in her suit, but her helmet was off. Major Matthews was nearby, squatting on the ground. His back was to her.
“Jonas?” she called, surprised at the weakness of her voice.
He jumped at the sound and then rushed to her side. He took hold of her hand, and she realized that someone, probably Matthews, had removed her gloves along with her helmet. “How are you feeling?” he asked, sounding concerned.
“My arm…”
“I know,” he consoled, “it’s broken. I had to splint it. Here, let me help you with the space suit. I couldn’t remove it while you were unconscious.” He helped her remove the suit, taking considerable time with her left arm as she pulled the splinted limb from the sleeve of the suit. Thankfully, he had only splinted the forearm, so she was still able to bend the elbow. She would need to set it properly later.
“Where are the others?” she asked, as she rotated her legs in front of her. She was sitting on a mat, on the floor.
He nodded his head towards the back of the room, where hanging curtains divided the room into a separate section. “Parker is sleeping over there, in our temporary sleeping quarters. We have several other inflatable sections available, but they haven’t been fully configured yet. Dish, well, he’s over there.” He pointed back to the spot he had come from, and Lennon noticed that Dish was lying on his back and still in his space suit. “He’s hurt badly, Lennon. He can’t move his legs.”
“Does he have feeling in his toes?”
“I don’t know. I need you, Rebecca.”
“Ok,” she said. “I’ll do whatever you need. Let me look at him.” She rubbed her eyes. “Where’s Abrams?”
He looked down and kept silent. The tightening of his jaw told Lennon the answer. “Help me get to Dish,” she said, forcing herself to think of something other than what she had just learned. He helped her stand and she clung to him with her good hand. As soon as she stood, dizziness overcame her. She gripped his arm tightly and waited to get her bearings, and then tried to walk to Dish.
Every step was a challenge. She felt as if she were neck-deep in mud. After three steps, she was panting for air and the dizziness had returned. She fell onto Matthews, and he held her while she recovered.
“It’s the gravity,” he stated, “It’s going to take a bit.”
“Mars’ gravity isn’t that strong,” she objected, “I feel like I’m eighty years old.”
He said nothing, but continued to hold her. She buried her head in his neck, not wanting to move. “I didn’t realize I was so weak… I should have been better with my self-analysis. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. We’ll get the trampoline set up soon and you’ll be back to full speed in no time.”
No one knew the effects of living long term on Mars, specifically, dealing with the lesser gravity for so long. Pre-deployed equipment included various exercise equipment. One of the notable pieces was a trampoline with various cables and pulleys attached, which would allow the astronauts the ability to enjoy the extra g-forces a trampoline provided, without fear of shooting themselves thirty feet into the air. In fact, a trampoline would probably be used on the spacecraft itself if it weren’t for the laws of physics—the equal and opposite reactions from jumping and being pulled back down with rubber straps would create a terrible wobble on the ship that over time would require the use of precious fuel to correct.
With the gentle assistance of Major Matthews, Lennon eventually made her way to the spot where Dish lay. Every part of her was sore, and her body burned with exertion. She took hold of the corner of a large metal crate for added stability and was surprised to notice that it was wet. “Why is the crate wet?”
“It’s condensation. The water recycler is active but it is in power saving mode. We are going to have to do some work on it, I think.”
“Well, Abrams can…” She never finished the sentence. “Is he still in the Lander?”
“Yes, he is. I put him in a suit but…” he shrugged, and she saw weariness in his eyes that made her look away for fear that emotions would overtake her.
He saw the look in her face, and he answered the question that she could not ask. “We’ll be ok, I think, though certain tasks will be much more difficult. Technically, we only need two operators to pilot us back home, so we can endure a few contingencies before our situation is really grave.”
She closed her eyes. A few contingencies. It sounded so cold; he was describing the death of a crewmate as a contingency. She knew he didn’t mean anything by the term; maybe using it was his way of coping. “Let’s see if we can get Dish up,” she offered, trying to focus. She turned to him and examined him visually. Matthews had stuffed a blanket under his head to keep it level, due to the thickness of the suit as he lay on his back. No one should have moved his head at all, but Lennon knew that Matthews had little equipment and had done what he had to do to get Dish to the camp. She touched Captain Petri’s cheek. “Dish, wake up.” She did not know what injuries he had sustained, so she did not want to move him excessively. She tousled his hair and his eyes fluttered.
“Where am I?” he whispered.
“You’re on Mars,” Lennon smiled weakly. “We made it.”
“Yeah?” He opened his eyes. “My legs…”
“You may have an injury. Do you remember what happened?”
“We came in too hot. The altimeter was off, or the velocity reading. I don’t know. We hit hard. I felt something in my back. It felt like something bad happened.”
“Let’s take off his boots,” she said to Maj. Matthews, and the two began removing them. “Do we have medical equipment here?”
“I grabbed your bag from the Lander,” he said, and picked it up from the floor to show her. “Everything should be in there, except for the splint of course.”
“I hope we have more supplies here,” she pondered. “This won’t last long.”
“We do, but we have to go get it. As I said, only the essential parts of base camp were set up. We have a whole structure planned for medical—it just needs to be built.”
Building it would not be hard. Finding the supply crates… that might be another story. She squeezed Dish’s left big toe. “Ca
n you feel this?”
He nodded. That was a good sign. The right toe had the same results. She took a pen from her bag and poked various parts of his feet. He was able to feel them all. With some effort, he was able to wiggle his toes. With the help of Major Matthews, she cut away the remainder of the space suit and then performed a thorough examination.
“What do you think, Doc?” Dish asked nervously.
She thought for a moment. “Well, I can’t be sure without X-rays, but to me it looks like you may have sustained a compression fracture of the spine. There doesn’t appear to be nerve damage, which is good.”
“What does that mean? I mean, when can I be back to normal?”
She did not know. “We need to keep you immobile for a while. A compression fracture can take eight to twelve weeks to heal.”
“I’ll be ok after that, though, right?”
“I don’t know, Dish, I’m sorry.” She held his hand in a feeble effort to comfort him. “Sometimes this type of injury requires surgery. Sometimes it doesn’t. We will have to wait and see.”
His eyes watered and she could tell he was trying not to let his emotions show.
“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you,” she said as she squeezed his hand. He held tightly and did not let go. She stood by his side for half an hour, until he drifted to sleep.
Matthews helped her set her arm. It was one of the most painful things she had ever had to do. Under her direction, Matthews pulled straight up on her wrist while she lied down and angled her arm to get it in the right position. They had to try a few times to get it right, and the tears poured down her face. She thought she might faint at any time; sheer willpower got her through it. Once it was set properly, it immediately felt better. There was still throbbing pain, but it was no longer stabbing and cutting. Matthews helped her fit a proper splint. She fell asleep quickly and woke two hours later from the pain. She fell asleep again quickly.
Day One Hundred and Eighty-Six
Single Event Upset Page 16