Abby nodded. “Okay, that’s more like it.”
“Yeah. Now, Site G, up here in the northeast, is kind of remote. The yellow circles are all points of interest, collected from various things I’ve read, and you’ll note that most of them are in the southern part. So, this Site C, down here, looks to be the most promising. It’s flat, should have good ground, it’s still some 1,750 meters below the MOLA datum, so lots of air time for the parachutes to do their job, and it’s big, at least twenty by twenty kilometers. Thirty by fifty, if we include this eastern section south of that big crater, and just avoid these hills down here.”
Gabe shuffled images, spread them out on the table, stared at them for a minute, then pointed at one. “What’s this?”
“Oh, that’s a THEMIS VIS image of this crater just south of Site C, and part of the plane just north of it. At 17.5 meters per pixel, it doesn’t tell us much about the ground, but it’s better than nothing.”
“How big is that crater?”
“Um, about ten kilometers east-west.”
“What’s your interest in some of the sites? Like, this one? And this?”
Jeff nodded. “Both of those sites were imaged by the HiRISE, so somebody felt there was something important there. I don’t have those images here, there up in my office. These sites over here in the Morava Valles show signs of layering in MOC images. This up here, I dunno, it’s kind of an odd-shaped sunken area. Looks kind of like a giant swimming pool. I’m just curious as to what may have caused it. If we can get up there, take some photos and samples and maybe come up with an explanation.”
“Huh. You’ve really done your homework.”
“Yeah Gabe, I have. Like I told you, I’m serious about this. It’s not a joke.”
Abby glared at her. “What? Did you think he was kidding?”
Gabe shook her head, frowning. “I don’t know what to think.”
Jeff stared at her for a moment, then smiled. “Say, you guys want to get some air? Let’s go for a walk.” Jeff led them upstairs, through the great room, across the front porch, and down the gentle slope of the large lawn to the point of the promontory on which Wrentham House was built, overlooking the rocky coastline and the Atlantic Ocean beyond. He clambered up onto the rocks and sat. “I like it here. Things seem clearer.”
The three women took seats on the rocky outcropping beside him and sat quietly, taking in the shore and the surf and the gulls and the blue-green ocean stretching to the horizon.
After a while, Jeff cleared his throat. “There’s another item we haven’t spoken of yet that I imagine you’re a bit curious about. This is a job and you will want to be paid. The term of your contract will be about six and a half years, essentially now until splashdown. I propose compensation of $250,000 a year, each, of course, plus all expenses – housing, food, full medical, dental, car, transportation, etcetera, and an expense account. If you wish to sock some of that away in a 401k, or some other retirement plan, I’ll match your contribution up to, say, $75,000 a year. If you have any educational debts, I’ll pay them off. Gabe and Susan, you’ll need to learn how to fly. So will I. I’ll pay for that, up through a business jet type rating. Then Abby can take over and teach all of us how to really fly. And upon our return, I’ll pay you each a bonus of two million dollars. Further, I’ll establish a one million dollar fund for our – and I use the word ‘our’ in the collective sense, as it will be a collective effort – child, for education and other needs. I think that totals out to around $4.1 million each, give or take.”
They all sat in stunned silence. Susan sniffed and looked up, “Abby, I think this calls for one of your patented exclamations.”
Abby laughed softly, “I can’t think of an adequate one.”
“What happens if we don’t come back?” Gabe asked.
“Fair question. I’ll set it all up in a trust fund before we go. Designate a beneficiary. In fact, I’ll put all of it into trust funds right up front before we do anything else. So if anything happens to me – like I end up broke, or worse – your money will be safe.”
Abby leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands. “Well, I’ll say this for you Mr. Grey, you sure know how to impress a girl.”
Jeff laughed, “I’m not trying to impress you or, for that matter, bribe you. I’m asking a lot from each of you, an awful lot. Perhaps, everything you have.” He leaned back and stretched. “Anyway, when it’s all over, you should be pretty well set. You can continue with your careers, write a book, go on the lecture circuit at $50,000 an hour, buy a small Greek island and retire in seclusion, do whatever you want. And for a while at least, you’ll be the most famous women on the planet.”
Abby sat up, “I think I need a drink.”
There was a unanimous vote in support of that idea and they all got up and headed back toward the house.
Gabe walked beside Jeff. “Realistically, what’s your budget for this?”
“At present, the ballpark guess is around two billion, may go three.”
Gabe glanced at him with an incredulous smirk, “It cost NASA two and a half billion just to land the MSL. And you think you’re gonna put four people up there for that?”
“Back in 2007, SpaceWorks Engineering published a proposal for an AIAA conference laying out a plan for a manned Mars mission based on lunar mission technology. They pegged the total cost at around $100 billion. On their shopping list were a couple of inflatable TransHab modules for the crew to live in during the mission. SpaceWorks estimated the cost for the TransHabs at $6.9 billion. But almost simultaneous with that, Rob Bigelow of Bigelow Aerospace was announcing plans to construct his BA 330 module – essentially the same thing as SpaceWorks envisioned, but three times bigger – and sell them for $100 million a copy.
“Obviously thinking NASA was going to be the prime mover in this effort, SpaceWorks went on to calculate that launch vehicles – four Ares Vs and an Ares I – to put their half-million pounds of junk in space would cost a bit over $14 billion. But SpaceX can lift that much into low earth orbit with eight Falcon Heavies for one twentieth the price, around $720 million. Hell, SpaceWorks even tossed in another $9 billion just for ‘government program integration’, whatever that is? Somewhere in the aerospace industry there is a huge price disconnect between what might be done and what can be done.
“Now look, the entire Apollo program cost around $22.5 billion in the late ‘60s. That’s about $132 billion in 2008 dollars, a bit more today. But that was seventeen missions and, though a lot of the work was based on the Mercury and Gemini programs, an awful lot of what they did was done from scratch. So, divide $132 billion by 17, you get around $7.5 billion, now remove all the R&D and tracking station construction and moon surveys – we don’t have to survey Mars, it’s already been done – and eliminate the $30,000 toilet seats, I’ll pick one up at Wal-Mart for $8.95, and the $15,000 pens, we can use pencils like the Russians did, and the $5 million treadmills, I’ll get us a used stairstepper on eBay for fifty bucks, and what have you got? We’re in the ballpark. For now, my best guess is around $425 million for launch, and that’s the big cost. I can buy a pound of liquid hydrogen for thirty-two cents, but it will cost me at least $1300 just to get that same pound off the ground, let alone to Mars. All we need is some luck. And let’s be honest, practically speaking, the only difference between a lunar mission and a Mars mission is consumables, a place to live on the planet, and a year’s worth of coasting in space. Yeah, admittedly that’s a gross over-simplification, but the concept is fundamentally valid. It’s just a matter of working out the details and doing it.”
“Do you have three billion dollars?”
“No, about $400 million.”
“So where’s the rest coming from?”
“We’ll get it. I was talking to Abby and Sue about this during your, uh, brief sabbatical this morning, what we need is a proof of concept. We need a successful cargo launch in 18 months. We need to put something on Mars that work
s and proves our point. And we need to do it cheap. If we do that, we’ll have a line of sponsors at the front door that wraps all the way back to Bellevue. This’ll be the biggest thing, well… ever. And no one will want to be left behind. Money will be no problem at all, and our ship will be stickered up like something at a NASCAR race.”
“You don’t think everyone will just write you off as a nut?”
“Not if we make our case.”
They all walked back into the house, straight to the bar and fixed some drinks.
Jeff motioned toward the stairs, “Come on, let’s go back downstairs and finish off this overview, then tomorrow we can talk about what I’d want – I think – from each of you.”
Walking straight up to the boards, Gabe took a sip of her drink and pointed at Jeff’s sketch of the Earth to Mars transit vehicle, “Okay, so this is a Bigelow Sundancer and… what else?”
“Well, some kind of command module, a service module, an airlock and the descent vehicle, whatever that may be,” Jeff responded.
“That’s it?”
“Yeah. What more do we need? It’s just a place to live for six or seven months while drifting through space.”
“What’s the mass of that?”
“Oh, I dunno, depends on the hardware. With a fueled service module, I’d guess around 50 tons.”
“Wow. You’d need a Jupiter-130 just to get that off the ground and a 246 for the EDS.”
“Sounds about right.”
“Six months? That’s a fast transit.”
“Yeah. There’s a window during the 2016 opposition that can give us a 190 to 200-day transit with about the same fuel consumption as a standard Hohmann transfer. The good news is, the 2018 opposition is even closer. We should be able to make the return trip in 180 days, give or take.”
“Okay, so we use the service module to brake into what? A high elliptical orbit? Then what?”
“Right. A very high and fast elliptical, basically just under escape velocity at periapsis. Then we climb into the descent vehicle and use its cruise stage to get us to entry interface. Then we’re on our own.”
“And, uh, now that we’ve used all our fuel for an orbital insertion burn, how do we get home?”
Jeff laughed, “Damn! Forgot about that.”
All three women snapped around toward him.
“Just kidding. We send up a re-supply ship, around the same time we launch. Then it just sits there waiting for us. After we take off from the surface we re-dock with our transit ship, jettison the ascent module, dock with the re-supply ship, transfer fuel, food, oxygen, water… whatever, and then head home. Simple.”
“Okay, so that gets us there and back, almost. So the command module is the Earth re-entry vehicle?”
“Right. Just like Apollo. We jettison everything else on approach, dive into the atmosphere, pop chutes and splashdown in the South Pacific.”
“So once more, how long are we gone?”
“Well, 195 days out, 582 days on Mars, 179 days back. All told, 956 days, give or take. A little over two and a half years.”
Abby pushed her chair back and exhaled loudly, “Remind me to pack my vibrator.”
Susan smiled. “Bring two.”
Gabe wrinkled her nose in a frown. “Eeeew.”
“Gabe,” said Susan, “is Jeff right? Is this possible?”
Gabe sighed, shook her head, and just stared at the boards.
Jeff smiled at her. “I’d like to hear the answer to that too.”
After a moment she turned around and faced them. “Okay, yeah. I think it’s possible. It could be done. But I don’t think it can be done in four years. I don’t think NASA, with all its resources, could do this in four years.”
“Of course they couldn’t,” said Jeff. “It would take NASA two years just to draft the specs for toilet paper, another two years to let the contracts, and three years to field test the stuff. It would take us an hour and a trip to Wal-Mart. We are not the government, Gabe. We can do things differently.”
Sue looked at her questioningly. “Gabe?”
“Yeah, he’s got a point.”
By the following evening they were worn out. They’d covered every aspect and last detail of the tentative plan and were more than ready to put it to rest for a while and relax. Instead of cooking at Wrentham House, Jeff suggested dinner at the Spiced Pear. “It’s right on the water, on the north end of the Cliff Walk, you’ll love it.” So off they went.
“Everything’s great. The lamb is exquisite,” Jeff informed them.
The waiter appeared and took their orders. “And to start,” Jeff added, “two ounces of the Caspian caviar and a bottle of Bollinger ’70.”
Jeff had wanted to avoid any discussion of ‘business’ during dinner, but as they enjoyed the meal and the Newport twilight view his curiosity finally got the better of him. “So, you’ve heard the whole sordid tale now and tomorrow you’re off for home. Any thoughts, conclusions, uh, decisions?”
Abby didn’t need any time to think about it, “It was certainly an informative and eye-opening weekend. And, I should note, a very pleasant one. Thank you.”
All three women nodded in agreement and heartily thanked him.
Then Abby continued, “Wow, the adventure to end all adventures. I think I now understand how early sailors felt when they looked at the edge of their charts and it said, ‘Beyond here there be dragons.’ As of Friday, I think all three of us were more than a little skeptical, but you’ve sold me on it. Though it didn’t take a lot. I’m in.”
Jeff smiled and nodded gratefully, “Thank you. I’m delighted to have you aboard.”
“I’ll need to turn in my apartment keys, put a few things in storage and abandon the rest on the sidewalk.” They all laughed. “But I can be back in less than a week and get started, if that’s alright?”
“Perfect. I’ll get you an open ticket. Just give me a call when you’re on your way and I’ll pick you up in Providence.”
They sat quietly for a minute, Gabe just staring out the window at the ocean and Susan glancing at her wondering if she was ready to speak. Clearly she was not. Finally Susan took a sip of wine and a deep breath, “When I decided I wanted to go into space medicine, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind. But practicing medicine in space must, by anyone’s standard, constitute the very essence of space medicine. I don’t know if I can do all that you will be asking of me; there is much that I need to learn.” She paused and followed Gabe’s stare out the window for a moment, then turned back to Jeff, “But I will try. I’m in.”
Abby lunged over and gave her a hug, “Yes!”
Jeff raised his glass to her, “And to you also, thank you very much. I’m pleased beyond words. Welcome aboard.”
“But as you know, I still have a six weeks left in my residency, so it will be the end of July before I can get back.”
“Understood. Put all this out of your mind, if that’s possible, do what you need to do and we’ll see you when you get here.”
She nodded, “Alright.”
Jeff, Abby and Susan simultaneously turned to Gabriel. Her eyes were closed as she rested her head on her hand, motionless. Finally she raised her head and sighed without looking toward them, “I still think you’re all crazy. But of course, that doesn’t exclude me from being crazy too.” She slowly shook her head, “I don’t know,” and turning to face Jeff, “I just don’t know.”
Jeff smiled softly at her and nodded, “I understand. Believe me, I understand. Take a few days, a week, think about it, and let me know.”
She nodded, “I will.”
“I would like to say, regardless of how you ultimately decide, your input and insight has already proven invaluable, and I appreciate that… greatly.” And he likewise raised his glass to her.
CHAPTER 5
Monday, June 18, 2012 (T minus 1373 days)
The hollow sound of Jeff’s footsteps as he descended the stairs were a reminder – and not a pleasant one – that, b
ut for him, Wrentham House was again empty. As he saw Gabe, Abby and Susan off at the airport that morning he immediately felt emptiness in his stomach. He missed their company, even before they were out of sight. Only now did he realize the extent of his loneliness since Marsha’s passing. He still grieved for her but the time for a monastical life of solitude was clearly over. He craved companionship, and eagerly looked forward to Abby’s return, both for her company and her help. But for the moment he set that aside; there was much work to be done.
On a large dry erase board in the downstairs office Jeff had written the names of some twenty commercial aerospace companies that might prove potential providers of systems or services. He wanted to call them all and make appointments as soon as possible to speak with the powers that be and get things moving. However, that would present an awkwardly long schedule and Jeff felt it might be better to wait until Abby returned and they got a plane to make travel easier, not to mention her moral support while he assaulted these bastions of the industry. So instead, Jeff decided to pick on just a couple to start with. ILC Dover was located in Delaware, so fairly close, and besides being NASA’s prime contractor for space suits, was also on the leading edge of inflatable habitats and lander airbags, having provided the airbags for the MER program. ILC had a lot to offer and getting them onboard would be a major coup.
“Good morning, ILC Dover, how may I help you?”
Jeff had already spoken with SpaceX, and he wasn’t quite as nervous about appearing out of his league now as then, but he still had trouble thinking of himself as an aerospace executive rather than a schoolteacher. But now was no time for timidity. “Good morning. Jeff Grey, CEO, Grey Aerospace. I’m not sure who I need to speak to there, somebody with a handle on your full line of capabilities and capable of helping me out with some substantial space systems integration.”
Margaritifer Basin (Margaritifer Trilogy Book 1) Page 13