Margaritifer Basin (Margaritifer Trilogy Book 1)

by Gregory Gates

  Gabe stood, “Alright.”

  As she began to stand, Jeff leaned toward her and whispered, “Break a leg.”

  She whispered back, “I’d prefer not to.”

  “What are you going to play?” Jay asked.

  Gabe paused, “The Miller’s Dance from The Three Cornered Hat by Manuel de Falla,” then walked to the piano.

  As she concluded the final flourish the audience broke into an enormous applause. Gabe stood and took several bows then quickly walked to rejoin the group that was now shaking hands with Jay Leno.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, the Ares Expedition: Jeffrey Grey, Gabriel Frederick, Abigail Nolan, Susan Lú, and Christine Mallory.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Sunday, October 27, 2013 (T-877 days)

  Jeff picked up the phone. “Yeah, Chrissie.”

  “Boss, ULA just called. They’re going to be assembling Pathfinder and the Atlas V next week and they want to know if we’re going to be there.”

  “Ugh. We’re gonna be there for the launch, but the assembly is their job. We’d probably just be in the way; not to mention acting like a bunch of long-tailed cats in a room full of rocking chairs. I don’t see a reason for us to be there for the assembly, but ask Gabe. She may want to go down for it. I dunno.”

  “Will do.”

  A minute later Jeff’s phone rang again. “Yeah, Chrissie?”

  “Gabe said the same thing you did. She’d like to go, but doesn’t have the time.”

  “Okay, well, there’s your answer. Call ‘em back and tell ‘em we have complete confidence in their abilities. Oh, and ask them kindly not to dent the fenders, that’s the only one we’ve got.”

  “Right.”

  Their first launch was 41 days away and though Jeff wanted desperately to hover over every step of it, he had other things to do.

  The phone rang again. “Yeah?”

  “It’s Abby, boss. We’re all in the MCC, waiting for you.”

  “Okay, be there in a minute.”

  Jeff left his office and ran down two flights of stairs. “Sorry everyone. Gabe, run it from the top.”

  What were once Wrentham House’ theater and recreation rooms was now a single 36-foot wide by 26-foot deep room, loosely modeled after the White Flight Control Room at NASA’s Johnson Space Center in Houston, Texas. Arrayed across the south wall were three 165” LCD displays with a three-foot high, three-foot deep stage running the width of the room beneath. Filling the center of the room were sixteen control consoles in three rows and, at the back, 14 theater chairs in a single row on a raised platform.

  “The very top?” Gabe asked.

  “Yeah. Start at T minus 60 seconds.”

  “Oh god,” Abby groaned. “Again?”

  “Yeah, again. We’ve got 41 days and if we screw this up I’ve got nothing to show for a third of a billion dollars. So, what say we get it right?”

  Gabe nodded. “Okay, Atlas V 521, SLC-41 at Cape Canaveral, T-60 seconds and… counting.”

  Abby began the countdown sequence. “ULA Launch Director reports green board, weather clear, range clear, we’re Go for launch. Power to internal, 50 seconds. Pressurization complete, 35 seconds. Guidance to internal, 15 seconds. T-9, ignition. 3, 2, 1, we have liftoff. The clock is running.”

  Gabe now took over. “T+4 seconds, Mars One Alpha has cleared the tower. T+13 seconds, roll program initiate. T+34 seconds, roll program complete. T+50 seconds, core throttle-down. T+55 seconds, altitude 4.7 kilometers, velocity 430 meters per second, throttle 57%. T+85 seconds, 11.8 kilometers, 530 meters per second. Two minutes thirty seconds to booster jettison.”

  They all stood quietly watching the simulated launch on the displays.

  “T+235, booster throttle-down,” said Gabe, “and, booster sep, and core throttle-up to 100%. 104 kilometers, 3650 meters per second. T+277 seconds, fairing jett. Go at five minutes. T+328 seconds, MECO, main engine cutoff. And, staging. 178 kilometers, 5,850 meters per second. T+347 seconds, second stage ignition, thrust is Go on all engines. 200 kilometers, 6,380 meters per second, and we are Go at six minutes. And now not much happens for about eleven minutes until SECO, second stage engine cutoff.”

  “Boss?” Abby said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why do we need to keep going over this? This part is entirely in the hands of launch control at the Cape.”

  “Two reasons. First, this command center has never been tested and we need to make damn sure it works as designed and does what we need it to do. Second, if Alpha loses an engine on ascent, we’re going to have to think fast and work quick with ULA to adjust the burn of the remaining engines to get this hunk ‘o junk into the proper orbit. If Alpha ends up in the wrong orbit we’re totally screwed. So we have to know not only what is supposed to happen, but also what we’re going to need to do if something doesn’t go exactly as planned.”

  “Okay, I’ve got that. I understand that part. But shouldn’t we be working on casualty control? You know, the part about what if an engine fails?”

  “Oh, we will – until we’re sick to death of it. But we need to walk before we run. So we take it one step at a time.”

  “Okay, sorry. It’s just getting… so close.”

  “I know.” Jeff winked at her. “Gabe, how we doin’?”

  “Projected cutoff at 17 plus 55.”

  “17:55 Rog. And what’s the projected time for the second burn?”

  “89 plus 20.”

  “And how long’s that burn?”

  “19 seconds. We are Go at 15 minutes. SECO in 2 plus 50.”

  Chrissie came running into the room. “Rasmussen’s out. 91% strong support for the mission.”

  Jeff smiled. “Whoa! That’s interesting.”

  “And you got a call from Senator Landers’ office. He’d like you to call him as soon as convenient.”

  “Convenient? That’d be about five years from now. Okay, I’ll get back to him shortly.”

  “Good morning, Senator. How are you today?”

  “Just fine, Jeff. Say, that was a great job you folks did with Leno. If nothing else, you may have turned Gabriel into a national celebrity.”

  Jeff laughed. “She was so nervous I’m surprised she was able to make it over to the piano without falling.”

  “She was great. You all were. Have you seen Rasmussen’s polling numbers this morning?”

  “Yes sir, just a few minutes ago.”

  “91%. I know plenty of people here in Washington – and I’m one of them – that would kill for numbers like that. And someone else has taken notice. Are you busy Friday night?”

  “Senator, a month from now we have four launches over just seven days. We’re kind of busy day and night. All of ‘em.”

  “Jeff, I think you’ll want to take the evening off for this. I just got off the phone with the White House Chief of Staff. The President has decided to get involved with your little venture, but he wants to do it in a congenial atmosphere rather than beating his shoe on the bully pulpit. So he’s invited you to the White House for dinner Friday night, along with a few of the other major players in government. Maybe we can all hash out our differences over prime rib.”

  “Uh, wow. Okay, yeah, I guess I can squeeze that into my calendar. Good grief.”

  “And bring your whole crew, he wants to meet you all. Six o’clock at the East Wing. Don’t be late.”

  “Not even fashionably?”

  “No, not even fashionably.”

  “Okay. Uh, what’s the dress?”

  “Ah, glad you asked. Black tie. The President likes formal dining, even though we’ll probably be in the Family Dining Room, owing to the small crowd.”

  “You’ll be there?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been invited as well.”

  “Who else?”

  “I’m not sure. Probably the major players in space policy: Vice President, the head of NASA, President’s Chief Science Advisor, a couple Congressional Committee heads, you know, the usual suspects.”
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  “Good god.”

  “Yeah, well, here’s your chance to make your case.”

  “Right. Okay then, we’ll see you Friday.”

  “Okay. Make it good.”

  “Yes sir. And, thanks.”

  Jeff hung up the phone, sat in shock for a minute then sighed deeply. “Oh brother.” He hurried back downstairs and into the control room.

  Abby glanced up at him from her console. “Jesus, boss, you look like you just saw a ghost.”

  “Close. I don’t suppose you guys have evening gowns?”

  “Huh?”

  Gabe’s eyes opened wide. “I haven’t worn an evening gown since my high school prom. What’s up?”

  “Well, we’ve been invited to the White House for dinner on Friday night.”

  “The White House?”

  “Yeah, that one.”

  “Oh my god.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I said. Chrissie, looks like we need to do some shopping. Anything around here?”

  “Newport? I dunno, might be a bridal shop in town.”

  “We’re going to the White House for a formal dinner, not getting married.”

  “Okay, how nice do you want? Madison Avenue?”

  “There’s nothing closer than New York?”

  “Um, let me think.” She scratched her forehead for a minute. “Oh, there’s a Valentino Boutique in Boston. I’ve never been in there, couldn’t afford the cover charge, but they should have some nice stuff.”

  Jeff nodded. “Alright, let’s go shopping. Make sure we give them time for any fitting that’s necessary.”

  Abby gasped, “Valentino? Oh lord.”

  #

  “What do you think?”

  Jeff turned around and nearly fell over. “Oh-my-god! Jeez, Gabe, that is drop-dead gorgeous. But, uh, you don’t think maybe that’s a bit much cleavage for the White House?”

  She shrugged.

  Chrissie sat gaping at her. “That’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen.”

  Standing six foot three in heels, Gabe stood grinning in yards of gathered black silk crape, strapless, a square opening at the cleavage and flared from the waist to the floor. “They don’t have a lot that’s long enough for me. But I kind of like this.”

  Jeff coughed. “Yeah, well, it’s certainly a statement.”

  Abby came out of the dressing room wrapped in tight fitting floor-length silver-grey silk, strapless, gathered at the bosom, and slit down the front of each leg with a flourish of shimmering silver lace lamé beneath, and elbow-length white gloves.

  Jeff dropped into a chair. “Oh good lord. You guys trying to start a riot?”

  Abby frowned. “What, you don’t like it.”

  “Au contraire mon cheri, it’s spectacular.” He turned to Susan. “And what are you doing just sitting there?”

  Susan smiled. “I’m fine. I have something to wear.”

  “Okay.” He turned to Chrissie, “And what’s your story?”

  “I didn’t think I’d be going.”

  “Whatever gave you that idea? Of course you’re going. Go find something to wear.”

  Chrissie leaned over and whispered, “Uh, boss, have you seen the price tags on this stuff? You don’t pay me as much as you pay them. I can’t afford these.”

  Jeff rolled his eyes and smiled. “Chrissie, this is a business expense, it’s on me. Go find a dress.”

  Abby turned to Gabe, “Wow!”

  Gabe grinned. “You like it?”

  “You’re gonna give some old geezer a heart attack.”

  Jeff laughed. “That might not be so bad, so long as it’s the right old geezer.”

  “What about you, boss?”

  “Oh, while you two were rummaging through the racks I got fitted for a tux… and solved world hunger.”

  Gabe frowned. “We didn’t take that long,” and turned to Abby, “Did we?”

  Jeff smiled. “Never mind. Chrissie, move it. And you two… shoes, bags, whatever. Let’s not make a career of this.”

  A short while later Chrissie emerged from the dressing room in a two-tiered strapless pale mauve taupe silk number, topped with a gathered ‘belt’ of fabric cresting the bodice and wrapped around her upper arms to the back, and accented with full-length moss green gloves. She swished out in front of Jeff and twirled. “Well?”

  Jeff grinned and nodded with approval. “Oh yeah, that’ll do. Splendid. Okay, we about done here?” Jeff turned to the young sales attendant that had been helping them all afternoon. “Marcie, is it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You want to total all this up and we’ll be on our way. Thanks for your help.”

  “Oh, you’re very welcome. I’ll get you a bill, but it will be a few more minutes until we’ve finished the fittings.”

  “Fittings? You fit gowns?”

  “We fit these gowns.”

  “Right. Okay, when can we have all this?”

  “It should be ready by Thursday.”

  “No, no, no. ‘Should’ won’t do it. The five of us are having dinner with the President at the White House on Friday. So we need this by Thursday, absolute latest. Wednesday would be even better. Hmmm?”

  Marcie swallowed hard. “Ah, yes. Of course. Would, uh, Wednesday afternoon be satisfactory?”

  “Fine. Thank you. Why don’t you get me a bill and we’ll settle up while the, uh, fitting continues.”

  “Of course.” And she scurried off.

  Jeff turned back to Chrissie. “I’m starving. Can you get us to Durgin-Park from here?”

  “Sure.”

  “Okay, let’s get an early supper before we head back.”

  A few minutes later, Marcie approached Jeff and handed him the bill. Jeff stared at it for a moment. “Uh, you sure that comma’s in the right place?”

  “Yes, Mr. Grey. They have, uh, good taste.”

  “Ya think? Thirty-seven thousand dollars?” Jeff whistled. “Okay.” Jeff pulled out his wallet and handed Marcie his American Express card. “Yeesh.”

  At four-thirty Friday afternoon, Abby brought the Citation to a stop in front of the Dulles Aviation terminal at Manassas. Jeff yelled from the cockpit. “Alright, thirty minutes till the car arrives. Move it!”

  They all grabbed garment bags and rushed to the bathrooms to change. Jeff emerged wearing his tux and wasn’t surprised to find himself and the terminal attendant alone in the lobby. “They haven’t come out yet?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Figures. Hey, can we leave this stuff with you? Our car’s gonna be here any minute.”

  “Yes, sir. No problem.”

  Jeff walked to the lady’s restroom door and pushed it open a few inches. “Any time ladies!”

  At five minutes before six, the limousine pulled to a stop at the White House East Gate and Jeff rolled down the window.

  A uniformed Secret Service Agent approached the car. “Good evening, sir, welcome to the White House. I’ll need to see a photo ID from each of you.”

  Earlier in the week Chrissie had spoken with the White House Assistant Social Secretary and received a detailed description of the security procedures and visitor protocol, so all of them were prepared with driver’s licenses at the ready. After carefully checking each face with each ID and each ID against the guest list the agent motioned to open the gate. “Thank you, sir, have a pleasant evening,” and he waved the driver on.

  Jeff noticed Gabe’s hands shaking as she fumbled to return her license to her purse. “You okay?”

  “I’m scared to death.”

  “Why?”

  The car made a slow left-hand turn and pulled beneath the covered colonnade at the front of the East Wing. Gabe stared out the window. “That’s why.”

  “What? The White House.”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Gabe, just take a deep breath and calm down. We’re just going for dinner. You’ll be fine.”

  Gabe pursed her lips and swallowed hard.

  “And s
top panting, you’ll hyperventilate.”

  “I can’t. Oh god, why’d I wear this dress?”

  “Gabe! Stop it.”

  Abby shook her head and rolled her eyes while Susan looked on with concern.

  The car stopped in front of the East Wing entry and the driver quickly got out, walked around the car and opened the doors for them. They gathered on the walk before the East Wing doors and glanced back and forth at one another. Jeff finally shrugged. “Well, we’re here. Might as well go in.” Halfway to the doors Jeff stopped and glanced over his shoulder. Gabe hadn’t moved. She simply stood there looking rather like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. “Oh lord. Hold up.” He quickly turned around and walked back to Gabe, stuck his face in hers and spoke softly. “Gabe, now is not the time.”

  She was on the border of tears. “My legs won’t move. I’m terrified,” she whimpered.

  “Gabriel, I need you to be in one piece tonight. Do you understand me?”

  Her lower lip quivered as she slowly nodded.

  “Now come on.”

  Gabe tried to take a step. “I can’t.”

  Jeff turned again to her, exasperated. He stared straight into her eyes. “Gabe! You’re either part of this team or you’re on your way back to that cubbyhole I found you in at Caltech. Which is it gonna be? Last chance.”

  Gabe’s whole body shook briefly, then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. A moment later her shoulders relaxed, she opened her eyes and barely whispered, “I want to be a part.”

  Jeff nodded. “Okay.” He stepped around beside her and took her hand. “Let me see a smile.”

  Gabe managed to squeeze out the barest of tiny grins.

  “Alright, that’ll do. You know, you’re a lot prettier when you smile.”

  She leaned her on head on his shoulder and sniffed, “Thank you.”

  “Okay. Can we get on with this? I don’t know about you but I’m hungry and I understand this place has pretty good food.”

  Gabe laughed softly and nodded.

  “Alright, come on.” Jeff nodded to the others to go ahead.

  Just inside the door a young brunette in a nicely tailored dark blue suit greeted them. “Mr. Grey?”