Margaritifer Basin (Margaritifer Trilogy Book 1)

by Gregory Gates

“Now that I’m here, where do you want me to start?” Susan said.

  “Get licensed here in Rhode Island and board certified. That comes first. We need a fully licensed and certified M.D. And in your spare time take a look at the ILC Dover habitat modules they’re proposing and make sure they’ll do the job for us for a year and a half. Also, figure out what we’re going to eat while we’re there. Most of that will be going up with the first cargo launch. I want us to take this weekend off and rest up a bit. Monday morning we’ll have our first full status update session and figure out which pots are boiling over and need the most immediate attention.”

  Susan nodded in understanding.

  Abby climbed out of the pool, quickly gathering all eyes to her – she was naked.

  Jeff averted his eyes, sort of, and Gabe sighed, “Uh, didn’t you forget something?”

  “What?” Said Abby, nonplussed.

  “Oh, I don’t know, maybe… a swim suit?”

  “Why? We’re gonna be joined at the hip for two and a half years, now hardly seems the time to get modest. Besides, one of us is gonna conceive his child. Won’t be many secrets after that.”

  With that reminder, there came a lengthy silence. Abby grabbed the towel, dried off, wrapped it around her and dropped into a chair. “Anybody seen my drink?”

  Chrissie handed it to her and after a moment asked, “What are you talking about?”

  Abby took a sip of champagne, “Huh? What do you mean?”

  “When you said, ‘one of us is gonna conceive his child,’ what did you mean?”

  “Well, not you, you’re not going.” She paused for a moment. “Oops. Uh, boss, did I just…”

  Jeff shook his head, “No. I guess it just never came up. No reason for her not to know.”

  Abby sighed with relief, “Whew. Okay.”

  Chrissie frowned and glanced back and forth between them. “Know what?”

  Abby shrugged. “One of us is going to bear a child on Mars.”

  Chrissie gasped, “My god! Wow. Which one?”

  Abby shrugged. “Don’t know yet. We’ll figure it out later. Draw straws or something.”

  “But… why?”

  Jeff turned to her, “Why not? Think of all the old questions that will be answered, and all the new ones that will be asked.”

  Chrissie stared silently at her lap for a while. Then slowly drew up a smile. “Jeez, a child born on another world. That’ll be incredible.”

  Gabe sat up and stretched. “Yeah, it’ll be a hell of dinner conversation topic. It’ll drive the tabloid press absolutely out of their minds.”

  Jeff rubbed his neck; he’d had too much to drink. “Well, for now it’s just another item in the mission plan. We’ve got a long way to go before we need to concern ourselves with that. But Susan, when you’re planning consumables, don’t forget diapers.”

  They all laughed.

  “Oh, and Chrissie,” he continued, “that particular item is not for publication. That’s just between us.”

  Chrissie nodded, “Understood.”

  Jeff looked out over the bay, and then laughed. “Well, at least we do know one thing for certain now.”

  “What’s that?” said Gabe.

  “Abby really is a carrot top.”

  Monday, July 30, 2012 (T minus 1331 days)

  Jeff’s now complete team assembled around the conference room table.

  “Alright, time to get busy. As John Wayne said, ‘We’re burnin’ daylight.’ As I see it, we have two major priorities. First, determining what we’re going to send up in the cargo launch that, I shouldn’t have to remind you, is a mere fifteen months away. We need to make certain we have the necessary launch vehicles and services reserved, and we’re already borderline on that. Second, we need to identify any long lead-time items and get moving on them right away. There’s a lot of stuff we’ll be able to buy off the shelf, but a lot of other things we’ll have to have made. And that can take years. Command module, service modules, Mars landers, descent stages, the list goes on and on and these are big ticket items that will take time. So here’s what I’ve got in mind – and everybody feel free to jump in at any time. This a team, not a dictatorship – Gabe, I’d like you to take the lead on the cargo launch.”

  “Okay.”

  “Look over my notes, look over the literature, and come up with a launch plan. The key here is that this launch is our proof of concept. This fails, the mission fails… probably. Look at what best serves us to send up, minimize the mass and come up with the most cost effective plan to get it there.”

  “Got it.”

  “Abby, since many, if not most, of the long lead-time items will fall under the heading of ‘command & control,’ that’s yours.”

  “Alright.”

  “This is a huge job.” Jeff shook his head, “Maybe too big, I don’t know. But let’s give it our best shot.”

  “I’m ready.”

  “I think the transit vessel, the ‘Crew Exploration Vehicle,’ or CEV, is going to be the biggest issue. Most of the stuff we’ll set down on the planet is fairly straight forward. Yeah, there’s a lot to it, but it’s not all that complicated. But the CEV? That’s a spaceship, and it will be big and complicated and have a lot of moving parts… and the only ones around are either 50 years old, or way too big. So, we’ll probably have to build one. There are maybe a dozen CEV plans around left over from NASA looking into it a while back. We need to pick one. No point in reinventing the wheel here. A lot of folks have done a lot of research on this, let’s use it and pick one. I like the Spacehab CEV ‘cause it’s light and based on Apollo, but go over them all again and see what you think. And then we’ll have to find somebody that’s actually willing to build the damn thing, and build it fast. So start there.”

  “Right.”

  “Susan, your major challenge – in case you haven’t figured it out – is life support.”

  She smiled, “You don’t say?”

  “Remember, nobody’s done this before. We’re going to be on artificial life support for two and a half years. Now, the International Space Station has been up for a lot longer than that, but it’s only 185 miles away and can be re-supplied on pretty short notice. When we’re 250 million miles from Earth on the other side of the sun, there will be no re-supply; we’ll be on our own. We will need to have systems that work. And if they stop working, we’ll need to be able to fix them. This is probably not the best of places to cut corners. Food is probably not a real big deal. Oxygen, water, CO2 scrubbing, those are big deals. Look at what they’ve done on the ISS, and everywhere else. Go through the literature, find out what’s available or could be made. Come up with a plan for the trips over and back and our stay on the surface. There probably won’t be a lot of long lead-time items, but system integration could take a while. Work with Abby.”

  “Okay.”

  Jeff grinned, “Don’t put your pen down, I’m not through with you yet.”

  Susan grimaced, then smiled, “Uh oh.”

  “You need to come up with a physical fitness program for us. Actually, several.” He nodded toward Abby, “Even for her joggingness there.”

  Abby frowned.

  “We’ll need a plan to get us in shape here, prior to the launch, another one for the trips over and back to keep us from withering away, and a third for Mars. Look at NASA programs and what they’re doing on the ISS. Oh, and speaking of the ISS, Gabe, Abby and I have spent a lot of time over the past two months going over both the ISS and the Apollo Program in nauseating detail. We’ve assembled a list of everything – every system, program, test, feature, nut and bolt – in both programs, and Chrissie is in the process of organizing it all into a searchable database. That’s the foundation of our checklist. Chrissie can show you where it is on the computer. You’ll need to wade through all of it. The idea is that each of the four of us will independently make up our own list from that, then we’ll sit down and negotiate a final preliminary list to which we will then add Mars nece
ssities that don’t appear in either Apollo or the ISS.”

  “Oooo, that has to be quite a list.”

  “It is, it’s huge. We also went through the complete list of launches to the ISS and tabulated everything that’s been sent up there, everything. And where we could, we also noted who made it; source information. It’s likely that whatever they have on the ISS is too big, too heavy and too expensive for us. Maybe we can do a lot of business with Hamilton Sundstrand, maybe not. But it’s a starting point. You can cross-reference that against crew size for any period and obtain a rough cut at consumable usage, though ours will no doubt be different; we’ll need to do a much better job on recycling, for example, particularly in space. Diet of course will be a major issue. Frankly, I’d like to see our Mars consumables go up with the first cargo launch. I don’t know about you, but I’d feel a lot more comfortable about going there if I knew our food, water and oxygen was already there. Would sure beat us landing there only to find the catering truck is nothing more than an impact crater.”

  Gabe groaned. “Thank you for that happy thought,”

  “The bottom line is: we just need to make damn sure we don’t forget anything. There’s no 7-Eleven on Mars.”

  Abby laughed.

  “What?”

  “Oh, I was just thinking, we need to make up a sign to hang on the Hab for when we broadcast images back to Earth, ‘Mars Post Office, gas, ice cold beer.’”

  They all laughed.

  Jeff nodded, “Definitely! We have to do that. ‘Next gas, 200 million miles.’” He turned back to Susan. “That enough to keep you busy for a while?”

  “Uh, yeah. I think so.”

  “Oh, forgot, we’ll also need to get you started on flight training. I’ve got a lesson at Cindtronix this afternoon, you can go with me and we’ll get you started.”

  “Okay.”

  “Chrissie, I’m not leaving you out of the flight training, I’m just postponing it a bit since we’re pushing Cindtronix’ facilities to the limit right now. Once the three of us are past the basics and at least instrument rated, we’ll start you in the program as well. And when we get to training on the simulators, you’ll be right there with us. Once we launch, it will be invaluable to have someone here on the ground that’s trained exactly as we are and thoroughly understands our capabilities and limitations.”

  Chrissie grimaced, “Are you sure you’ve got the right person for this? Wouldn’t somebody like Abby be better suited?”

  “I have confidence in you. Until two months ago I’d never flown an airplane, and I’m the mission commander. You’ll do fine, and you’ll have plenty of help. But there will be no substitute for having someone who knows what we know, has the same experience we do and thinks like us. We will need to be of one mind – all of us.”

  “Okay, you’re the boss.”

  “Look, I could probably find some ex-Air Force test pilot/astronaut with a couple hundred hours in space to do the job. But he or she would not think, act, or react like one of us. You will, because you are one of us.”

  Chrissie nodded. “Gotcha.”

  “But for now your job is to keep all this organized. I want everyone to make copious notes and everyday provide Chrissie with a complete copy thereof. If they’re digital, email it too her. If on paper, scan it and email it. I’ve bought several all-in-one scanner-printer-copiers – use them. Chrissie, organize it, keep track of it. All of this work will eventually end up in Mission Plans, Flight Plans, Launch Plans, Instruction Manuals, Timelines, Schedules, whatever. Let’s keep track of it, not lose it, not have to reinvent it, and not waste time duplicating one another’s work. Get it on the computer in an organized fashion so we’re not flailing around in the dark.”

  Chrissie nodded, “Got it.”

  Jeff looked around the table, “Any questions?”

  “What are you going to do?” Abby asked.

  “Whatever I have to, to see that this gets off the ground. Three principal issues for me will be coordination, particularly with regard launch services, funding, and cooperation. We’re going to be launching a lot of stuff. In the absence of any heavy lift vehicles I’d imagine we’re going to be putting substantial strain on the commercial rocket industry. I’ll need to coordinate with SpaceX and ULA, and probably the European, and even Japanese, Russian and Chinese space agencies. If we can’t come up with enough launch vehicles, it’s all over. With regards funding, I have a lot of money, but not nearly enough. We’ll need partners, supporters, contributors, and, groan, the government, particularly for launch services, which will likely fall under the heading of cooperation. I’m convinced we’ll face a lot of opposition, and from a lot of people in high places. There will be many that will be adamantly opposed to this. And government, and not just our government, is going to throw every regulatory blockade they can think of in front of us. So we’re going to need some allies.”

  Abby looked puzzled, “Why do you think there will be so much opposition?”

  “An endless array of personal, political, philosophical, and even scientific reasons. For one thing, I think there will be a lot of folks in Congress and NASA that will be very upset at the thought of some local yokel that won the lottery beating the United States government to Mars. That is not going to go over well. So one thing I’ll start working on immediately is finding some influential cooperation in a few House and Senate subcommittees, so that when the battles start we’re not alone. Anything else?”

  “Yeah,” Gabe said, “We’ll need a CAD system, Computer Aided Design. We’ll probably want to farm out most of the engineering, but we’ll need something for basic design work, something more than cocktail napkins.”

  Jeff smiled, “I dunno, an awful lot of good engineering has been done on cocktail napkins. Wasn’t the original Atlas drawing done on a cocktail napkin, or something like that?”

  “Okay, then we’ll need a large supply of cocktail napkins.”

  Jeff grinned, “Nah, just kidding. Make up a list and we’ll get it. Oh, and that reminds me…” Jeff reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of credit cards. “Here’s some business plastic for each of you, American Express and VISA. Use your heads, please. And, Abby, no, diamonds and furs are not business expenses.”

  “Damn.”

  “Though I will be happy to pop for a swimming suit.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Why?”

  Jeff smiled and reflected for a second, “Uh, good question. Never mind. What else?” Everyone sat silent. “Okay then, let’s go to work.” As he started to get up from the table he paused, “Oh! Dang, there’s one other thing. Before we hit the books, let’s all go into town. There’s something we need to pick up.”

  “What?” Chrissie asked.

  “You’ll see. Come on.”

  Jeff parked in front of Grenon’s of Newport.

  Abby peered out the window and frowned, “A jewelry store? I though you said diamonds were out.”

  Jeff laughed, “We’re not shopping for diamonds. Come on.”

  Inside they were met by Raymond Grenon, the owner. “Hi Jeff.”

  “Hi Ray. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  “Sure, just a second, they’re in back.” He retrieved a large black felt jewelry case from his office and presented it to Jeff at the counter. “This is just some of them. There’s another batch at the factory for refurbish and recalibration per your specifications. And I still have a few more to find. After all these years, finding these in serviceable condition is not easy.”

  “Understood. I have complete confidence in you.” Jeff opened the case. Inside were seven Omega Speedmaster wristwatches with the caliber 321 movement in factory-fresh like-new condition. “Ah, very nice.” Jeff picked up the case and turned around, “Everybody take one. These are the original Omega Speedmaster moon watch, the exact same model worn by Neil Armstrong and virtually every other Apollo program astronaut. Like I said, ‘tested and proven’.”

  “Me too?” Chr
issie asked.

  “Of course. The reason I brought you all along is so that Ray can adjust the bracelet size to fit. Ray, if you would? And, Susan, why don’t you observe this surgical procedure, so you can manage it in the future.”

  Susan smiled, “Sure.”

  “You’ll note that the crowns are blue, that’s not original. These are calibrated for a 24-hour Earth day as we know it. There is another set that will eventually be here that is calibrated for a 24-hour day that’s actually 24 hours, 37 minutes and 22.7 seconds in duration – the length of a Martian day. The crowns on those will be red. And by the way, these are all over forty years old. They’re the real deal.”

  Gabe held one up and turned it in the light, “Cool. Thanks boss.”

  Tuesday, July 31, 2012 (T minus 1330 days)

  Abby met Jeff at the front door, excited. “How did it go?”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life, but it went fine.”

  “You soloed? Congratulations!”

  “Thanks. I need a drink.”

  “Just remember, any landing you walk away from is a good one.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I keep hearing. But four years from now we’re gonna have to do a whole lot better than just walk away from it.”

  Abby’s smile faded. “That’s a fact. Come on, I’ll buy you that drink.”

  Friday, August 3, 2012 (T minus 1327 days)

  Jeff found Abby in her office downstairs. “Hey, sorry to drag you away from whatever you’re doing, but I have to go to San Diego this weekend, a friend of mine is retiring.”

  “No problem. Who?’

  “Captain Ralph Dillard, COMNAVSPECWARGRU 3.”

  “A SEAL?”

  “Yeah.”

  Abby’s eyes lit up. “Oooo, ought to be lots of handsome men around there. When do we leave?”

  Jeff laughed. “As soon as you’re ready. Bring your Full Dress Whites.”

  “Okay. Uh, we gonna be back in time for the MSL landing?”

  “Oh yeah, have to be. The retirement’s at ten tomorrow morning and there’s a reception afterwards at the Kidd Club. I imagine the grog will be flowing, and you’ll want to take the opportunity to try and drink a few SEALs under the table.”