Margaritifer Basin (Margaritifer Trilogy Book 1)

by Gregory Gates

  He grabbed her waist, pulled her to him and kissed her cheek. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

  Gabe leaned her head on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

  “No. Thank you.” He pulled back a bit, smiling. “Okay. Now… work.”

  She grinned and nodded.

  #

  CAPCOM, “Ares, Newport.”

  Jeff, exhausted, shook his head and wiped his face, then keyed his mic. “Uh, yeah, Newport, go ahead.”

  CAPCOM, “We’ve been trying not to bother you, but we thought you might like to hear this. At T plus 28:38:27, you’re velocity is 13,902 feet per second and your altitude is 250,093 miles. About ten minutes ago, you broke Apollo 13’s record for the greatest distance from Earth by humans.”

  “Yeah, well, how about that.” Jeff yawned. “Okay, well, we always kind of figured on breaking that one. And I think we’re gonna kind of blow right past it. But thanks for the update.”

  CAPCOM, “How are you doing?”

  “Well, we’re all mighty tired, but we’re making progress. I think we’re all gonna sleep pretty well tonight.”

  CAPCOM, “Roger. Do that. Newport, out.”

  Thursday, March 24, 2016 (T plus 33 hours, 10 minutes)

  Abby fumbled around beneath the toilet, grunting and groaning. “Shit! I can’t get this damn locking ring on.”

  Jeff twisted to see what she was doing. “Um, you’re turning it the wrong way.”

  “Huh?”

  “It’s Russian, Abby, it’s reverse threaded.”

  “Ah, crap, forgot about that.”

  Jeff felt something tickle the back of his neck. He glanced around and found Gabe’s ponytail reaching out as though it meant to strangle him. The rest of her appeared sound asleep. He smiled and gave her a gentle shove toward the other end of the Sundancer.

  Abby sat up. “Okay, got it.” She glanced at Gabe and frowned. “Lucky her. You ought to grab that ponytail and take a half-hitch on the truss with it before she collides with Sue.”

  He chuckled. “Eh, leave ‘em be. They need the rest.”

  “They’re not the only ones.”

  “Yeah, that’s a fact. Come on, let’s get the last set of wall panels in place, then maybe we can join them.”

  “That’d be nice.”

  The ‘bathroom’ was a 5-foot-long, 3-foot-wide, 7-foot-tall, self-contained modular unit consisting of shower, sink and toilet, the base of which was rigidly affixed to one side of the truss and the upper end free-floating near the Sundancer’s interior wall. Once assembled, the unit was both water and airtight, and sat in the utility room at the rear end of the Sundancer, to which the CSM was now docked. The toilet was of Russian design and virtually identical to those used on the International Space Station. The remainder was of their own design, loosely derived from modular bathrooms utilized in motorhomes and travel trailers. A forced airflow was created by fans in the ceiling blowing air in, while suction fans in the drain lines of the toilet, sink and floor, drew water and waste material out. All liquid waste was passed through the Potable Water Processor, while solid waste was burned in a methane-fueled incinerator – methane being available from the Sabatier reactor – releasing the water for recovery. The remaining ash – mostly carbon residue – would be periodically collected and stored, eventually to be jettisoned with the rest of the non-recyclable trash.

  The Sundancer’s interior walls consisted of tongue-and-groove, ultra-lightweight, half-inch thick, aluminum honeycomb panels within acoustic-dampening thin fiberboard sheaths. The panels were rigidly attached to the truss on one end, and free-floated in notched slips glued to the Sundancer’s interior walls; thus allowing the habitat’s hull to contract and expand under solar heating and cooling without damaging the wall panels. Access to the eventual seven compartments – utility room, commons, four bedrooms, and storeroom – was through the truss.

  The panels required to outfit the interior all had to fit within the truss for launch. There were 74 of them, all individually pre-fitted and marked with orientation – fore, aft, side, and location – with corresponding markings on the truss. It was an Erector Set, but a fairly simple one.

  “Okay, Abby, bundle #4, panels 19 through 24.”

  One at a time, Abby fed Jeff wall panels that he slipped into the outer notch, slid across the truss to align with attachment points, mated with the adjoining panel, and torqued the bolts, pre-loaded in grommets. The penultimate panel had no tongue, and the last had neither tongue nor groove, and were affixed to the adjoining panels with four aluminum strips that ran the length of the joints, and were bolted together through the panels.

  Jeff sighed. “Well, that part’s done.”

  Abby glanced around. “Hey, we built a wall.”

  “Yeah, and a bathroom.”

  She hung her head and rubbed her forehead.

  “You okay?”

  “Just tired.”

  “Yeah.” Jeff pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her. “Why don’t you try and get some sleep.”

  Abby leaned her head on his shoulder. “Uh huh.”

  Less than a minute later Jeff felt her body go limp in his arms. He smiled, closed his eyes, rubbed his cheek against her head, and whispered, “’Bout time.” They were 294,000 miles from Earth and cruising toward Mars at two and a half miles per second. But for the moment that just wasn’t very interesting, and Jeff fell asleep.

  #

  FLIGHT, “Ares, Newport.”

  Jeff rubbed his eyes and keyed his mic. “Yeah, uh, roger Newport, go ahead.”

  FLIGHT, “ Good morning. How are all of you feeling today?”

  He laughed. “Well, now that we have a functional bathroom, and about 15 hours of sleep under our belts, I think we all feel a heck of a lot better than we did yesterday.”

  FLIGHT, “Uh, roger, that’s great news. At 49 hours, 55 minutes, we have you at 13,551 feet per second, 448,664 miles from Earth, and right on course.”

  “Uh, roger, Newport. We took a peek in the rearview mirror a little while ago. It’s comforting to see y’all still back there. You look to be about twice the moon’s diameter as seen from Earth, but you’re sure shrinking fast. And of course we’re viewing the night side with just a hint of the morning terminator, so there’s not much to see. Anyway, we’re looking forward to a busy day and, uh, hopefully getting into a bit more of a routine. A good long rest was very helpful.”

  FLIGHT, “Roger, that. We’ve been looking at your rotational wobble and it doesn’t appear to be increasing. We concur with your assessment from yesterday to let it be, for now.”

  “Yeah. Um, we looked at that just a little while ago and agree. We’re gonna spend most of the day working on the Sundancer’s interior. I think we’ll all be a lot happier once we get that job done. But, uh, we’ll be right here so, if you need us, you know where to find us.” He heard Chrissie chuckle.

  FLIGHT, “Uh, roger that. Per the flight plan, the MCC is now in a three-section watch with only the primary consoles manned. Also, CAPCOM has passed to FLIGHT.”

  “Yeah, roger. Hope everyone there is also getting some rest. Okay, Chrissie, you get some rest too. And if we need anything, we’ll be sure and give you a holler.”

  FLIGHT, “Roger, Ares. Newport out.”

  Saturday, March 26, 2016 (T plus 3 days, 16 hours)

  Jeff panted as he pedaled the bike while breathing pure oxygen from a mask.

  “Come on, Jeff,” said Susan, “pedal faster.”

  “Do I look like Lance Armstrong?”

  “No, not really. Just shut up and pedal faster. We don’t have a recompression chamber and you don’t want the bends.”

  “Nag, nag, nag.”

  Abby, also wearing an O2 mask, shook her head. “Jesus, Gabe’s stuffed bear can pedal faster than that.”

  Jeff grumbled, “Shut up. How much longer?”

  “Five minutes,” said Susan. “But if you don’t pick it up, I’ll make it ten. I’ve got nothing better
to do than sit here and watch you suffer.”

  “Gee, thanks.” He grunted and picked up the pace.

  Five minutes later Susan patted Jeff’s hand. “Alright, that’s enough.”

  Jeff stopped pedaling and leaned over the handlebars, panting hard. “Oh, thank god.”

  “I thought I had you in shape.”

  “I am in shape.”

  “Really? Abby barely broke a sweat doing that.”

  “Abby’s a lot younger than I am.”

  “Whiner. Okay you two, into the airlock.”

  Jeff glanced at Abby. “That has a rather ominous sound to it, don’t you think?”

  Abby grinned. “Eh, she’s not gonna kill you, you’re the only man for a million miles around… literally.”

  Susan smiled and shook her head. “Just get in. Let’s not take all day, I’ve got other things to do.”

  Jeff motioned toward the airlock. “Ladies first.”

  Abby chuckled. “Whatever gives you the idea that I’m a lady?”

  “Beats me.”

  “Me too. I’m a fighter jock, there’s a difference.”

  Jeff grinned. “Alright then, fighter jock, get your ass in the damn airlock.”

  “That’s more like it.” Abby twisted around, dropped into the truss, and crawled into the airlock while Susan fed her oxygen line in behind her.

  Jeff followed behind and, once inside, closed the hatch. “Well, isn’t this cozy?”

  “Yeah.”

  Susan peeked through the window as her voice came over the intercom. “Okay, commencing nitrogen purge. 50 minutes and you’ll be on pure O2, then you can remove your masks and suit-up. I’ll be back.”

  Jeff gave her a thumb-up.

  Between their I-suits, the high gain antenna array, the telescope, an assortment of tools, and themselves, the airlock was cramped, at best.

  Jeff squeezed in beside Abby against the aft hatch. “Guess we should have brought a deck of cards.” He could see her smile behind the air mask.

  “I can think of something else to do. 50 minutes is plenty of time.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, um, maybe later.”

  Abby shook her head. “There’s no maybe about it. Regardless of what else happens on this trip, I don’t want to go home without having made love with you in space. That’s an experience – and a memory – that I want.”

  Jeff leaned his head back against the hatch and nodded. “Yeah.” He glanced at her. “A story to tell the grandchildren while bouncing them on your knee?”

  She laughed. “Uh, probably not.” Abby twisted a little sideways. “Ah, that’s better. Why couldn’t we have used the Mark III suits, and skipped the pre-breathe?”

  “Cause we’re not gonna have them with us on the way back, because they’ve been on the surface, and’ll be jettisoned with the MAV. So we may as well get used to doing this.”

  “Hell of a waste of $60 million worth of perfectly good suits.”

  “Well, they’re liable to be a bit worn by the time we’re done with them.”

  “Still…”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Besides photos and data, all we’re bringing back is rocks and the CM, which will belong to NASA. I mean, for $3 billion we won’t even have any t-shirts.”

  “Uh huh. But we will be able to say we were there.”

  “Yep. That should count for something.”

  She nodded.

  They sat silently for a while, then Jeff sighed, “It sure is quiet in here.”

  “Yeah. In the Sundancer at least you hear the hum of the ventilation fans. But this is like a tomb.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t use that word.”

  She chuckled. “Sorry.”

  “When I lived in Long Beach I never imagined any place could be so quiet.”

  Abby nodded.

  “Must have been a little quieter up on the hill?”

  “I don’t know. It got so crowded up there, there was constant traffic noise.”

  “Where’d you live?”

  “You familiar with Palos Verdes?”

  “Some.”

  “Eastfield Drive.”

  “Behind the gates?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wow, high rent district.”

  “Yeah. It was nice.”

  “Your grandfather didn’t make that kind of money in the Navy.”

  “No. Grandma came from old money. She inherited a lot.”

  Jeff nodded. “Is she still alive?”

  “Yeah, she’s 77. Still lives up there.”

  “Alone?”

  “She has three cats.”

  He chuckled. “I’m not sure they count.”

  “She thinks they do.”

  “Yeah, I suppose. So, what does she think about all this?”

  “She thinks I’m crazy.” Abby chuckled and shook her head. “But she’s always thought I was crazy.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Eh, grandma’s really prim and proper; Victorian-like, almost to a fault. She tolerated grandpa because he was a dashing Naval officer.”

  Jeff grinned. “Aren’t we all?”

  “Yeah, but grandma didn’t think dashing Naval officer was a suitable occupation for a girl. She always leaned toward debutant, cotillion balls, some fancy private girl’s college, and marriage into a wealthy family. Unfortunately mom was a great disappointment, failing dismally in that arena. Course, growing up in Southern California in the ‘60s and ‘70s, that was probably inevitable. So, grandma had higher hopes for me, but grandpa had other plans.”

  “I dunno, that doesn’t sound too bad. Maybe your grandmother had a point.”

  Abby shook her head. “Boring.”

  “I seem to recall you mentioning an uncle.”

  “Uh huh, mom’s older brother, Eric, but he left right after high school. He went to Texas A&M on an Army ROTC scholarship. After college he got his commission, went Armored, did his twenty, retired as a light bird, and lives on a small ranch in Wyoming. Hardly ever hear from him.”

  “Does he have a family?”

  “Yeah. Got married when he was in the Army. He’s got two daughters, my cousins, but they’re a lot younger than me; like 26 and 24, I think. I’ve only met ‘em once, about eight or nine years ago. I thought they’d come to grandpa’s funeral, but they didn’t.” She shrugged. “Neither did uncle Eric.”

  “Huh. Why?”

  “I dunno. He’s kind of standoffish. He keeps his family real close, but doesn’t socialize much with anyone else. He was with the 1st Cav in the Gulf in ’91. Mom says he changed a lot after that; she thinks he saw some stuff and has PTSD. He retired the year after 9/11 when it looked like we were gonna get busy in Iraq and Afghanistan. He wanted no part of it. I guess it’s a lot different being on the ground than in the air.”

  Jeff sighed, “Yeah.”

  “Well, I saw plenty of gun-camera footage, including mine. You could see hostiles on the ground before the bombs detonated, and none afterwards. You couldn’t see the whites of their eyes, but what happened to them was pretty obvious.”

  Forty minutes later Susan tapped on the window. “Okay, you’re on pure O2, you can remove the masks and suit-up.”

  Jeff nodded to her and turned to Abby. “Okay, guess it’s time.”

  “This should be entertaining.”

  He grinned. “Uh huh.”

  They undressed in a tangle of arms and legs. When they were naked, squeezed up against one another, and fumbling for their absorbency garments and coolant suits, Susan’s voice came over the intercom. “Um, that looks like fun.”

  Abby grabbed her coveralls, floating nearby, wadded them up and tossed them at the window.

  “Spoil sport,” said Susan. “You two better behave.”

  Abby rubbed against Jeff. “Why?”

  Jeff smiled. “She can’t hear you.”

  “Good, she doesn’t need to.”

  His body tingled. “Would you stop that
, we have work to do.”

  Abby groaned. “You’re no fun.”

  “Like I said… later.”

  “Yeah.”

  An hour and a half later Jeff and Abby were suited-up, had completed their oxygen pre-breathe, and were ready to go for a space-walk. Jeff twisted around and looked at her. “All set?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Okay Sue, put us in space.”

  “Roger that. Depressurizing.”

  Jeff and Abby floated, hanging on to hand holds, and simply staring at one another for several minutes as the vacuum pump sucked the atmosphere out of the airlock.

  “Alright, you’re airless. Tethers?”

  “Right.” Jeff held out his hand to Abby. “Give me the end of your leash.” He took the carabiner, knotted to the end of the tether attached to her harness and, along with his, inspected the knots again for about the twelfth time in the past two hours, then connected them to separate steel rings welded to the inside of the EVA hatch frame. Then they both connected carabiners on either end of another tether to their harnesses – connecting them to each other, and both independently to the airlock. “Okay, we’re tethered. I’ll get the hatch.” He turned around to the EVA hatch on the side of the airlock and gave the handle a couple pumps to ratchet the 12 latches open. Then he grabbed the handhold, pulled the hatch inward, latched it open, then glanced out and was greeted with his first good view of space. “Oh my god.”

  “What?” said Abby.

  “The view, it’s incredible.”

  “Well, move your ass. I want to see too.”

  Jeff pulled halfway through the hatch then stopped again. “God damn it’s a long way down!”

  Gabe’s voice came over the radio. “Define… down.”

  He laughed. “Every which way I look.” He pulled hand over hand out of the airlock, spun around, grabbed an external handhold with a death-grip, and nervously glanced about. “Oh god, what was I thinking?”

  Gabe laughed. “Relax. If you let go you’re not gonna fall.”

  “You sure?”

  “Pretty sure.”

  “Yeah. Well, if it’s okay with you, I’m gonna just hang on here for a while.”