Margaritifer Basin (Margaritifer Trilogy Book 1)

by Gregory Gates

  Abby’s smile faded and she sighed. “Might as well be wearing a neon sign.”

  Gabe bowed her head and bit her lip. “Please don’t hate me.”

  Abby sat back, sighed, and rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I hate you? You’re the one that’s gonna have morning sickness, get to spend months looking like you swallowed a watermelon, gain 30 pounds, have to go to the bathroom every 15 minutes because there’s no room left for a bladder, then go through labor, and then you’ll get to change diapers eight times a day and have a kid gnawing on your boobs for a year and a half… not me.”

  Gabe cringed and glanced at Jeff. “Um, yeah, forgot about that part.”

  Jeff smiled and shrugged. “All part of the job.”

  “Yeah. Um, maybe we should discuss this a little more.”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “Too late. That horse already left the barn.”

  Gabe giggled. “Yeah, I suppose.”

  “Well, I’m hungry.”

  “So am I. Famished.” Gabe launched herself out of the chair and toward the kitchen. “What’s for dinner? I’ll cook.”

  Jeff, Abby, and Susan all stared at one another, wide-eyed.

  Abby shook her head. “I think that’s the first time she ever volunteered to cook.”

  Jeff nodded.

  Susan glanced at Gabe, busying herself in the kitchen, then back to Jeff and Abby. “It’s a maternal instinct.”

  Friday, September 30, 2016 (T plus 192 days)

  Jeff glanced around the table. “Okay, decision time. We’re three days from Mars. Land? Or swing-by and go home? Gabe?”

  “All our cargo’s here, the MAVs are here, Balboa’s in orbit. I say, land. That’s why we came.”

  He nodded. “Abby?”

  “What Gabe said. Besides, I’m tired of space. I’m ready to feel some ground under my feet.”

  He smiled. “Alright. Sue?”

  “Land.”

  Jeff shrugged and sighed. “Okay, I’ll make it unanimous. Gabe, Abby, line us up for MOI.”

  They both nodded. “Roger.”

  “And, Sue, let’s jettison some excess weight.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Gabe, do we want to transfer any LOX or H2 from what’s left in the EDS before we jettison it?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t see why. We’ve got more than enough left in the service tanks to last until we dock with Balboa. It’d just be excess mass. Let’s conserve as much SPS fuel as we can for the trip home.”

  “Works for me.”

  Sunday, October 2, 2016 (T plus 194 days)

  Abby stuck her head through Jeff’s door. “You better get in here.”

  He looked up from the computer, “What is it?” but she disappeared back into the truss. He followed her. In the commons he found Susan at the table with her arm wrapped around a blubbering Gabe, while Abby looked on with a concerned expression. Jeff pulled into the chair next to Gabe, who had her face buried in her hands. He glanced at Susan. “What’s wrong?”

  Susan shook her head. “She’s not pregnant.”

  Jeff winced, then wrapped his arms around Gabe as Susan pulled aside allowing him to take over. He held her tight. She leaned her head on his shoulder and sobbed. He kissed the top of her head and whispered, “It’s okay.”

  Gabe whimpered, “I’m sorry.”

  He stroked her cheek. “Gabe, come on now, it’s okay.”

  “But I want to give you a baby, and I can’t.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly. We knew the odds weren’t good this time. Zero-g, first time, don’t worry about it; just consider this a trial run. In three days we’ll be on Mars, have some gravity to work with, and it’ll be fine. We’ll get it next time.”

  She sniffed, took her glasses off, and wiped her eyes. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” He gently lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes. “Worrying about it is not going to help.” He smiled. “You need a positive attitude. Okay?”

  She nodded. “I just want this so bad.”

  “I know, so do I. We all do. Come on, we’re not done. We’ll get it right next time.”

  “Okay.”

  Jeff glanced at Susan and Abby, then back to Gabe. “Now look, in twenty hours we have EDS separation, and 79 minutes after that, MOI. And we have a lot to do between now and then. So I need you to set this aside and get on that checklist. Can you do that?”

  She sniffed and nodded. “Uh huh.”

  “Alright.” He pulled her face up again, looked at her and smiled. “You’re a mess.”

  She chuckled softly.

  “Why don’t you go wash your face, and then we’ll get busy.”

  “Okay.”

  As she floated off toward the bathroom, Jeff patted her rump. She glanced back at him and smiled. When she was gone Jeff turned to Susan. “You said you’d be a bit surprised if she didn’t conceive on the first try.”

  Susan shrugged. “Well, I am… a little. But as you said, the odds were not the best. Who knows? Lack of gravity may have more of an impact than we supposed. It’s a big question mark. And obviously she is emotional and nervous about this, and her hormonal balance could be upset. And don’t forget what I told you about maternal immune tolerance.”

  Jeff nodded, then grinned sheepishly. “Uh, yeah, we did work on that.”

  “Yes, but only for a couple days. Keep working on it.”

  He chuckled. “Okay, if you insist.”

  Abby frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  Susan glanced at her. “I’ll explain later.”

  Abby shrugged.

  “Jeff, I’ll give her something to calm her down a bit, just take the edge off. She’ll be fine.”

  “Okay, but moderation. We’ve got several very busy days ahead of us, and I need her fully functional.”

  “Alright,” and she shoved off toward the medical locker.

  Jeff glanced at Abby, questioningly.

  She shook her head. “Don’t look at me, this was your idea.”

  He sighed. “Yeah.” He nodded toward the front of the ship. “Well, let’s put this on the back burner, that rock is getting awfully big in the window. What say we get to it?”

  “Roger that.”

  Monday, October 3, 2016 (T plus 195 days)

  “EDS sep in 30 seconds,” said Gabe.

  Abby nodded. “Rog, 30 seconds.”

  “Pyros armed?”

  “Pyros A and B armed.”

  “CMC mode, AUTO.”

  “AUTO.”

  “Start the event timer.”

  “Started.”

  “Abby, you’re going to translate minus-x to 0.8 feet per second.”

  “Yeah, minus-x, 0.8.”

  “On the mark…”

  “Rog. Here we go. And… thrusting.”

  Jeff nodded. “Roger thrust, and… SEP.” He felt the gentle shock of the explosive bolt detonations that separated the Earth Departure Stage and Storage Module from the forward end of the Sundancer. “Gabe?”

  “Yeah, sep confirmed. She’s opening.”

  “Rog. Newport, Ares, we have EDS sep. She’s all yours.”

  “Gabe,” said Abby, “I’ve got 0.7. I’m gonna stop here.”

  Gabe shrugged. “Okay.”

  “Do we need to wait for a reply from Newport before performing the evasive maneuver?” said Jeff.

  Gabe shook her head. “No.”

  “So we can do it now?”

  “Well, I think we ought to wait until we open the range by a couple hundred meters, then Abby needs to get us aligned for the burn.”

  “Understood. And we’re gonna burn the SPS for three seconds?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Okay. You call it.”

  “Rog.”

  “How many orbits will it make before impact?”

  “Hard to say. It’s like an Earth satellite in a decaying orbit; depends on atmospheric density at high altitude, which fluctuates. Newport will burn most
of the remaining RCS fuel to give it a low periapsis, then work with JPL to try and coordinate impact with a MRO pass and in a location that JPL feels might be rewarding. They want to see if they can get the MRO’s spectrometer on the impact.”

  Jeff nodded. “Kind of like that lunar LCROSS impactor a few years ago?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Looking for water?”

  “They’re looking for whatever they see.”

  “Well, just so it doesn’t come down anywhere near us.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. If it turns up something interesting, it might be nice to go take a look.”

  “Yeah, but a flaming Greyhound bus landing on the station at 6,000 meters per second would be… what’s the word? Bad?”

  Gabe chuckled. “Um, yes, that would be one word for it.”

  Abby whistled softly. “God, what a view!”

  Jeff leaned over her and glanced out the port rendezvous window. “Yeah, that’s really something. Gabe, what’s our altitude?”

  “A bit over 12,400 miles, just inside Deimos orbit.”

  He pulled back into his seat and buckled up. “Rog. Abby, we aligned?”

  “Yep. Standing by for 3.2-second retrograde approach burn.”

  He shook his head. “Wow. Seven months and a hundred million miles and we’re down to just 3.2 seconds of RCS thrust to hit the MOI mark. Nice job, Gabe.”

  She smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Alright, here we go,” said Abby. “In 3, 2, 1, thrusting. And… shutdown.”

  “Gabe?” said Jeff.

  “Hang on. Um, okay, 6,277 meters per second.” She grinned. “Perfect.”

  “And MOI?”

  “79 minutes, 15 seconds.”

  Jeff glanced at the incoming message on the comm panel. “From Newport, ‘Go for MOI’.”

  Abby glanced at him. “Is that Heidi trying to be funny?”

  “She’s just following procedure. Gabe, here come the TEI-2 and 4 PADs.”

  “Hopefully we won’t need those.”

  “You want to look at them now?”

  “No. If we need to return to Earth without landing, I’ll look at them after we’ve docked with Balboa.”

  “And if we can’t dock with Balboa?”

  Gabe groaned and shook her head. “Then we won’t be needing them anyway, will we?”

  “Um, no. I guess not.”

  “Jeff, let’s just get into orbit. We can worry about Trans-Earth Injection later.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Uh huh. TIG minus 58 minutes.”

  “Okay. And we’re gonna burn for 8 minutes and 14 seconds?”

  “Yes.”

  “So we set the timer for 8:22?” said Abby.

  “No.” Gabe sounded aggravated. “That extra 8 seconds is only needed with the J-2, not the SPS. We’ll burn for 8:14, or until the EMS says we’ve reached delta-v.”

  Jeff grabbed her hand. “You sound nervous.”

  “I am nervous. This hasn’t been done before.”

  “Sure it has. Lots of stuff has been put into orbit around Mars, including by us.”

  “Not with me onboard.”

  He chuckled. “Point conceded.”

  Jeff stared out the starboard window. “Oh my god.”

  “What?” said Abby.

  “What a view. Gabe, what’s our altitude?”

  “Above what?”

  “The ground. You know, AGL? Come on, you’re a pilot.”

  “Jeff, what do you see out the window?”

  “More than I thought I’d see under just starlight. Um, what is that? The Candor Chasma?”

  “Right. And the elevation down in there varies by over 8,000 meters, and we’re traveling at over six kilometers per second. AGL is jumping all over the place. I can’t give you an accurate AGL.”

  He sighed. “Okay, how about an inaccurate AGL? Say, from the MOLA? Give or take a few miles.”

  “I don’t know. Um, about 475 miles.”

  “Thank you. Close enough. And… take a pill.”

  “I don’t have any pills. Sue wouldn’t give me any.”

  He groaned. “Susan.”

  “What? Don’t yell at me, you’re the one that wanted her sober.”

  Jeff laughed.

  “Would y’all just shut up,” said Abby. “Jesus! Sue, remind me never to take children on a long drive again. I swear to god, on the trip home I’m gonna send you two through in checked baggage. Gabe? Can you give me a 3-minute mark?”

  “Yes, that I can do. TIG minus 3 in 3, 2, 1… Mark.”

  “Got it. Jeff, Rotational Control Power, Direct, both Main A and B.”

  “Roger. RCP, Direct, Main A/Main B.”

  “Rog. SPS Helium Valves, Auto. Limit Cycle, OFF.”

  “Got it.”

  “Delta-V Thrust B, ON.”

  “At two minutes.”

  “Roger. Two minutes.”

  “You’re not there yet,” said Gabe.

  “I know!”

  Jeff groaned. “Everybody calm down.” He gently grasped Gabe’s hand.

  She jerked it away. “Don’t touch me!”

  “What is your problem?”

  “I’m scared to death.”

  “Well, get un-scared, and just get us into orbit.”

  Her sigh was audible. “I’m trying.”

  “Two minutes… Mark,” said Abby. “Delta-V Thrust B, ON.”

  “Translation Controller, Armed,” said Gabe.

  “Rog.”

  “Rotation Controller, Armed.”

  “Rog. Okay, I’ve got to go horizontal at 35 seconds.”

  “Roger,” said Jeff. “Gabe, how long till we reach the day-night terminator?”

  “Um, we should hit it somewhere over the Ophir Planum so, I don’t know… about 75 seconds.”

  “Telescope aligned on the station?”

  “Yes, and synchronized.”

  “Frame rate?”

  “10 frames per second, true color, visible light.”

  “Will we be able to see anything?” said Susan.

  “Sure,” said Gabe. “At full mag, apparent distance as we pass over will be about 500 meters with resolution of around twelve centimeters per pixel. After applying digital enhancement we should have some pretty good pictures.”

  “Alright,” said Abby, “enough with the sightseeing. Coming up on one minute.”

  “Mark,” said Gabe.

  “Roger.”

  “There’s the terminator,” said Jeff. “Just ahead.”

  Gabe glanced out the window. “I see it.”

  “Gabe, do we need to see the data stream from Newport?”

  “No, it’s nine minutes old. Ancient history.”

  “Alright.” He pointed at a video monitor atop the central instrument panel. “Can you put a live image of the surface on this monitor? I’m getting a kink in my neck trying to look out your window.”

  “Whiner. Just a second.” A moment later an image of Mars’ surface appeared on the monitor. “That’s from the ‘E’ camera. Happy?”

  “Great. Thank you. 35 seconds, DSKY’s blank, EMS mode, NORMAL.”

  “Roger,” said Abby as she glanced at the monitor. “Jesus, there’s nothing there. Where the hell are we?”

  “East end of the Ophir Catenae,” said Gabe.

  “Crap. Where’s the beach, and palm trees, and hotel?”

  Jeff pointed out the port window. “100 million miles that way.”

  Abby shook her head. “Boss, you’re gonna have a hard time selling time-share condos in this place.”

  “You think?”

  “I want to see,” said Susan.

  “Channel 12,” said Gabe.

  Jeff frowned. “Sue, aren’t you supposed to be watching our vital signs?”

  “I don’t have a window. If any of you suddenly die, just holler.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, okay. TIG?”

  “8 seconds,” said Gabe.

  “Roger, PROCEED.”

&nb
sp; “Standby,” said Abby. “Got B Mode.”

  Jeff nodded. “We’re burning.”

  “I can feel it. Thrust A and… Mark.”

  “Got it,” said Gabe.

  “Chamber pressure?”

  “It’s fine. 95, 95.”

  “Coming up on 4 minutes,” said Gabe.

  “Roger,” said Abby. “Chamber pressure is approaching 100 psi.”

  “I see it. I’m predicting cutoff about 6 seconds early.”

  “8:16?”

  “Give or take. Maybe 8:15 or 14 by the time we get there.”

  “Roger.”

  “Gabe,” said Jeff, pointing at the video monitor, “can we get the telescope view up here?”

  “Yeah, here it is.”

  He gasped. “Holy shit! Look, tuna cans, solar fields, rovers… Jesus! Home sweet home!”

  “My god,” said Susan, “look at all the rover tracks.”

  “Yeah, busy little beavers.”

  Gabe grabbed Jeff’s hand.

  “I thought you didn’t want to be touched.”

  “I changed my mind.”

  He chuckled.

  “Okay,” said Abby, “we can watch home movies and you two can play footsies later. Pitch and yaw trim are oscillating just a bit. It’s kind of aimless, but the rates are deadbanding on all three axes.”

  Jeff patted Gabe’s hand and grinned. “Roger footsies. Abby, call the ball.”

  “Both balls are right on the crosshairs. She’s steering like a champ.”

  “Outstanding.”

  “Chamber pressures are 100 even,” said Gabe. “Predicted cutoff at 8:14. Delta-V switches OFF right at shutdown.”

  “Yeah,” said Abby, “I’ll get them.”

  “Gabe,” said Jeff, “do you have a range to Balboa?”

  “Um, yeah, a hair under 100 kilometers.”

  “Okay. And how close will we be at shutdown?”

  “I don’t know exactly, but it’ll be inside of 1,000 meters. Maybe around 900.”

  “Wow. Seven months, 100 million miles, and we end up less than a klick from it, and in the same orbit. I’m impressed.”

  “Isn’t this what you hired me for?”

  Jeff chuckled. “Among other things.”

  “I can think of at least one other thing,” said Abby.

  Gabe glanced past Jeff and glared at her. “Shut up and drive.”

  Abby laughed. “Yes ma’am.”