Margaritifer Basin (Margaritifer Trilogy Book 1)

by Gregory Gates

  (Bob Schieffer) “Joining us on Face the Nation this morning are Senators Richard Landers and Edgar Marshall to give us their perspectives on the manned mission to Mars currently being planned, organized and funded by the California lottery winner, Jeffrey Grey. Senator Landers, Senator Marshall, thank you for joining us this morning.”

  “Uh, boss… You might want to watch this. We’re on TV,” Chrissie said.

  “Huh? What’s up?”

  “Senators Landers and Marshall on Face the Nation, talking about us.”

  “Hmmm, Landers and Marshall, huh? Let me know when they get to the mud wrestling.”

  (Bob Schieffer) “Senator Marshall, this week’s hearing before the Science and Space Subcommittee got a bit heated at times. Why was that?”

  (Sen. Marshall) “Bob, I think the problem is that Mr. Grey simply doesn’t understand the enormity of what he’s proposing, if indeed he’s actually proposing it. Honestly, I’m still not convinced this isn’t just one of the greatest publicity stunts of all time. Mr. Grey has pulled together a handful of people – all women, I might add, which makes one a bit suspicious – that purport to have some expertise in aerospace. But the simple fact is, he’s proposing to do something that the real experts – NASA – say can’t be done. And when the subcommittee got down to some serious questioning, Mr. Grey simply got defensive and, if I may say so, a little arrogant and obnoxious.”

  “Jeez! Was he at the same hearing we were at?” Chrissie asked.

  Jeff laughed. “I think he may already be on another planet.”

  (Bob Shieffer) “Senator Landers, was that your take?”

  (Sen. Landers) “No, Bob, not even close. I know Captain Grey personally and, by the way, he is a retired Navy Captain and a recipient of the Navy Cross and Purple Heart for his service in the Gulf War, so I believe we should show the man a little respect and courtesy. I’ve also met the members of his team and a finer, more talented, more knowledgeable group of people you will never find. Captain Grey and his organization know what they are doing. They did not appear before the subcommittee to ask for anything, they came because the subcommittee asked them to testify. They want nothing from the government or the taxpayers other than for us to get out of their way and allow them to accomplish this incredible journey.”

  “That was nice of him,” Jeff said.

  (Sen. Marshall) “Well, if Mr. Grey thinks the government is just going to sit by and allow him to go about launching spacecraft from his backyard, he’s sadly mistaken. The United States Congress will protect the safety of the American people, even if it means protecting Mr. Grey and his people from their own foolishness. And tomorrow I will be submitting legislation to ensure that this nonsense is stopped and the future exploration of space is left to the professionals at NASA.”

  Chrissie held up her middle finger at the TV. “For you, Senator Dipshit.”

  (Bob Shieffer) “Senator Landers?”

  (Sen. Landers) “A couple of facts may be in order here. First, Captain Grey will not be launching anything from his ‘backyard’ as my learned colleague knows full well. The Grey mission will be utilizing the very same commercial launch vehicles and launch facilities that are used by NASA, the United States Air Force, and commercial satellite operators. He is not doing anything that isn’t regularly done by every other space launch operator. Senator Marshall’s allegation is preposterous and utterly false. Second, Captain Grey’s launch two and a half months from now will utilize the only three heavy-lift vehicles to be launched in this nation this entire year! Not because they’re the only ones available, but because he is the only one that wants them and is willing to pay for them. That is $300 million dollars out of his pocket going into the American aerospace industry! That is $300 million dollars in aerospace industry jobs that Senator Marshall seems to object to. Both this government and polls of the American people have time and again suggested that space exploration needs to involve more commercial business and less government, that is: more private sector investment and fewer tax dollars. And that is EXACTLY what Captain Grey is doing! So, what’s the problem? Well, Bob, I’ll tell you. The problem is that certain elements in our government – and in the international community as well – believe that THEY own and operate Mars. And those elements object vehemently to an individual, such as Captain Grey, potentially undermining their authority. But, Senator Marshall, will you please show me where in the United States Constitution – or the constitution of any other nation on Earth – we are granted ruling authority over another planet?”

  Gabe, Abby and Susan wandered into the kitchen. “God, boss, that smells great!” Abby said.

  “Thanks, should be just about ready.”

  “What’s this?” Gabe asked, staring at the TV.

  Chrissie groaned. “Face the Nation. Senator Rottweiler’s chewing on the leg of Senator Lamebrain.”

  “Yeah, well, Senator Lamebrain’s party owns Congress,” Jeff said, “so it may not matter much. Chrissie, is there going to be any polling on this anytime soon?”

  “Yeah, Rasmussen should be polling on it right now. Hopefully, they’ll be posting the results on their website tomorrow morning. There may be others, but that’s the only one I know of.”

  “Okay, well, public opinion is our best hope. Let’s wait and see. Why don’t you turn that BS off and let’s eat this while it’s hot. Get the rest of that stuff out of the fridge, I’m starving.”

  “Amen to that,” said Abby.

  #

  “No, no, no. You shot behind it again. You’re not swinging through. Swing through it and pull the trigger just as the muzzle covers the pigeon.” Jeff pulled the shotgun Gabe had shouldered in a smooth, sweeping motion. “Swing through it. Try it again.”

  Gabe sighed, loaded another shell in the shotgun and pointed it downrange. “Okay… PULL!”

  Abby yanked the cord on the trap thrower and the clay pigeon took flight in front of them. BANG! And the pigeon was reduced to dust.

  “Yes!” Jeff hollered. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”

  Gabe lowered the shotgun and shook her head. “I still think a hammer would be easier.”

  Jeff smiled. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”

  She started to hand the gun to Jeff. “Okay, can I go home now?”

  “No. Do it again.”

  “Groan. I told you, I don’t like guns.”

  “Gabe, until fifteen minutes ago you’d never shot one. How can you not like something you’ve never tried?”

  “I’ve never been eaten by cannibals, but I don’t think I’d like that either.”

  Jeff laughed and shook his head. “Oh lord, just try it again.”

  After taking a piece off another bird, Jeff grinned and winked at Gabe. “Excellent! Now you’re getting the hang of it.”

  “Great. Can I take a break now? My shoulder hurts.”

  “It’s a 20-gauge shotgun with a light target load, it can’t hurt that much.”

  “My shoulder disagrees.”

  “Alright, wuss. Sue, job opportunity. Gabe needs a physical therapist.”

  Susan curled up her lips in a wry smile. “Take two aspirin and call me in the morning.”

  Gabe handed the shotgun to Jeff and frowned at Susan, “You’re a big help.”

  Jeff looked over the side-by-side double-barrel shotgun, then turned to Abby. “Your father has nice taste in scatterguns. These Spanish?”

  “Yeah, AYAs. Personally I prefer a Browning over-and-under with a pistol grip, but these’ll do.”

  “Sweet.” He held out the gun to her. “Okay, Annie Oakley, let’s see what you’ve got.”

  “Eh, that’s my mother’s gun. I prefer dad’s 12,” She picked up the other shotgun. “Okay. And let’s just cut to the chase: doubles.”

  “As you please.” Jeff stepped back to the trap thrower and loaded two birds. “Ready.”

  Abby loaded two shells and shouldered the shotgun. “PULL!”

  The first pigeon wasn’t
ten yards out when Abby powdered it. She quickly swung onto the second and likewise reduced it to dust.

  Gabe’s jaw dropped. “Jeez! How do you do that?”

  Abby broke the action, ejecting the two empties, turned around with a cocky grin, and shrugged. “Nothing to it. Too easy.”

  Jeff smiled. “Your grandfather taught you well.”

  “You remembered.”

  He nodded. “Sure. Again?”

  “Load ‘em up.”

  Abby promptly repeated the feat.

  Jeff shook his head. “Okay, guess we need a couple of skeet towers to make this a bit more challenging.”

  Abby winked at him. “No, this is fine. It’s fun.”

  Chrissie came running up the hill from the villa. “Rasmussen just posted it. 84% strongly support allowing the mission to go forward!”

  “84%?” Jeff asked, appearing a bit puzzled. “What’s with the other 16%?”

  Chrissie shrugged. “That’s the 16% that voted for ‘Free the gerbils.’”

  “Hmmm. Who would have ever thought that the first manned mission to Mars would come down to politics?” Jeff rubbed his chin, sighed deeply and glanced lamentingly at the other four. “We need to get back. We need to do something to give the Science and Space Subcommittee a reason to kill Marshall’s bill, and give Landers some support.” He thought for a moment. “Chrissie, get us on an airplane tomorrow.”

  Chrissie nodded. “Okay.”

  Abby frowned and sighed. “Damn.”

  Wednesday, September 25, 2013 (T-909 days)

  “Jeff, Marshall and Fairchild will back off and you’ll get the full cooperation of the United States government. Just consider it.”

  “No need, Senator. My answer is not only no, but hell no! Replace two members of my crew with NASA astronauts and let NASA take control of safety issues? You’ve got to be kidding? You tell Marshall and Fairchild that I will hold a press conference tomorrow and name names, and we’ll see what happens to their reelection prospects next year. Senator, what has happened to this nation? Teddy Roosevelt and John Kennedy are spinning like tops in their graves. It’s embarrassing.”

  “Honestly, I was hoping you’d say that, Jeff. Marshall and Fairchild’s play is about power, nothing else. You know it, I know it, they know it. They have a lot of aerospace – organized labor aerospace – in their states and that’s all that matters.”

  “But Senator, isn’t that the insanity of the whole argument? We are supporting the aerospace industry, not trying to kill it.”

  “Jeff, you’re supporting a tiny portion of aerospace and making the rest – including NASA – look like fools, and therein lies the problem.”

  “We just want to get off the ground, Senator. We’re not trying to gore anyone’s ox.”

  “Of course you’re not. But this is Washington and the issue is money and political power, reality has nothing to do with it. Look Jeff, I told you once before and it’s still true, if you want to defeat Marshall and Fairchild you’ll have to do it on the stage of public opinion. Can you get on TV?”

  “I dunno, maybe. Truth be told, I’m beginning to feel like a political pawn.”

  “And here I thought you were a bright boy.”

  “Huh?”

  “Jeff, you are a political pawn. In fact, this year you may be the political pawn. In case you haven’t figured it out, you represent the quintessential difference between the conservative right and the liberal left. You represent the difference between independence and dependence, and you’re in the news. And if you don’t think we politicians aren’t going to make hay of that, you best think again.”

  “Oh shit.”

  “You never really thought this would be easy, did you?”

  “No I didn’t, Senator. But I thought the problem would be launch mass and cost and how to survive for a year and a half on an utterly hostile planet. I never figured my biggest obstacle would be the United States government.”

  “As I told you before, Jeff, welcome to America. The government is everybody’s biggest problem. Jeff, get yourself some major publicity. Get in front of the people. They’ll see it your way and Marshall and Fairchild will be forced to back down.”

  “Alright, I’ll see what I can do. Thanks for the call.” Jeff hung up the phone and rested his head in his hands. He had long calculated that government regulatory agencies would present their fair share of obstacles, but he had never counted on pure election year politics. “Chrissie!”

  Friday, October 25, 2013 (T-879 days)

  On cue, Jeff led the team through the curtain and out onto Universal Studios’ Stage 1. The five of them held hands and bowed to the audience, then one by one shook hands with Jay Leno and took seats on the set of the Tonight Show.

  “Alright now, tell me truthfully,” Jay said to Jeff, “is going to Mars really that hard?”

  Jeff smiled. “Well, given traffic conditions, it’s not a lot more difficult than going to Burbank. And probably doesn’t take much longer.”

  Leno turned to the studio audience, “And there you have it. Mars, Burbank… same thing.” He turned back to Jeff. “Okay, you’ve been in the news a lot lately, but there are probably a lot of folks out there that don’t know you and your team. So, how about introducing yourselves.”

  “Sure. I’m Jeff Grey, owner of Grey Aerospace, and mission commander. On down the line here are Dr. Gabriel Frederick, flight engineer and navigator; Lieutenant Commander Abigail Nolan, pilot; Dr. Susan Lú, flight surgeon; and Christine Mallory, ground control and, uh, well… everything else.”

  The studio audience gave them an enthusiastic round of applause.

  “Okay,” Jay said, “Gabe, is it?”

  Gabe nodded

  “You’re a doctor of…?”

  Gabe smiled. “I have a Ph.D. in Aeronautics and Applied Physics.”

  There was a chorus of “oohs” and “ahs” from the audience. Jay asked, “From?”

  “Caltech.”

  “I understand you also went to MIT?”

  “Yes, I received my Master’s degree there.”

  “In…?”

  “Nuclear Science and Engineering, emphasis in applied plasma physics.”

  Leno again turned to the audience. “Okay, the rest of us can feel stupid now.”

  The audience laughed and Gabe grinned sheepishly.

  “Alright now, Gabe, why are you going to Mars?”

  Gabe smiled and pointed to Jeff. “Because that’s what he’s paying me for.”

  “Well, I hope he’s paying you a lot.”

  “It’s enough.”

  “Now, how long will you be gone?”

  “934 days, give or take a day or two.”

  “934 days? For those of us that are mathematically challenged, what’s that in years?”

  Gabe grinned. “Oh, a little over two and a half years.”

  “Has anyone spent that much time in space before?”

  “No. The Russian cosmonaut, Sergei Krikalev, has spent a total of 803 days in space on six separate missions. He currently holds the record. On the other hand, we won’t be spending that entire period in space. We’ll be on Mars for a year and a half. I’m not sure that counts.”

  Leno turned to the audience. “Everyone that thinks Mars counts as ‘space’ applaud.” There was a loud round of applause. “Okay Gabe, I think you’re good to go. Abby? You’re the pilot, right?”

  “Yes. Actually, we’re all pilots, but for the log book I’ll be pilot-in-command.”

  “You all fly?” Jay turned to Jeff. “What do you fly?”

  Jeff nodded. “Well, Abby’s type rated to fly just about everything from a Piper Cub to a 747, including our Cessna Citation, a bizjet. The rest of us are putting an awful lot of hours on a Beech King Air, a twin turboprop, in preparation for our eventual Citation type ratings. By the time we launch everyone on the mission will be fully qualified to fly the command module, lander, and MAV.”

  “MAV?”

  “Sorry,
Mars Ascent Vehicle; kind of like the Apollo lunar lander, but a bit bigger.”

  “Abby, now you’re a Navy pilot?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “What do you fly in the Navy?”

  “F/A-18E, Super Hornet.”

  “That’s a fighter?”

  “Yes, multi-purpose fighter and ground attack aircraft.”

  “Forgive me for pointing out the obvious but, uh, you’re a woman.”

  Abby laughed. “Thanks for noting that.”

  Leno turned to the side and made a motion like sticking his foot in his mouth. “That didn’t come out quite the way I meant it. What I meant was, I didn’t think the military allowed women in combat roles.”

  “No, there are a few of us. It took the Navy a while, but they finally realized that a woman with PMS in the cockpit of a jet fighter was something not to be messed with.”

  Leno and the audience howled with laughter. Finally calming down, Jay asked, “And you’ve flown in combat?”

  “Yes, two tours in Iraq, primarily flying close air support.”

  “Off an aircraft carrier?”

  Abby nodded. “Yes.”

  “Have you ever actually engaged in combat?”

  “Yes. Not air combat, the Iraqis had no air left by the time I got there. But I’ve been shot at from the ground, and returned the compliment. I won.”

  The audience laughed.

  Jay again turned to the audience. “Ladies and gentlemen, Tom Cruise is my very good friend and has been on this show many times,” he pointed to Abby, “but there sits the real deal.”

  The audience exploded in applause. Abby stood and took a bow. “Thank you.”

  “Speaking of Tom Cruise, I’m sure many of our viewers remember the film, Top Gun, and the rather novel callsigns of the pilots. Do you have one?”

  “Sure.”

  “What is it?”