Margaritifer Basin (Margaritifer Trilogy Book 1)

by Gregory Gates

  Wednesday, October 5, 2016 (T plus 197 days)

  Jeff drifted out of the truss and into the Commons where all three women, attired in liquid coolant suits, were floating near the dining table. None of them looked at him, they just stared quietly at nothing in particular. “Time to dress.”

  Abby glanced over her shoulder at an image of Mars from one of their cameras. “It’s still dark down there.”

  “Sunrise in about an hour. We’ll be on the ground in time for brunch.” Jeff tried to lighten the mood. He failed. “Come on, time to go.” He turned and propelled himself toward the Mark III suits, now arrayed along the Sundancer’s starboard bulkhead waiting for them. The others followed. Once fully suited except for helmets, gloves, and PLSSs, Jeff glanced around the Sundancer. “Are we sure we haven’t forgotten anything?”

  “Time to change the clocks,” said Susan.

  “Oh yeah, don’t want to forget about that.”

  She held out a jeweler’s case and opened the lid. Everyone removed their blue-crowned Omega Speedmasters, placed them in the box, retrieved their red-crowned versions and strapped them about their wrists on the outside of their suits.

  “I’ve got 3:26:12.”

  The others nodded.

  “Okay. Anything else?”

  Gabe shook her head. “I don’t think so. Abby and I went over the closeout checklist three times. The ship is ready for a year and half of hibernation.”

  “Roger that. Newport have any last minute instructions?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. Five hours to touchdown. Gabe, grab your gear and let’s go.” They headed into the forward airlock, there was only room for two. Jeff smiled at Abby. “See you in half an hour.” She nodded and sealed the hatch. Before putting her helmet on, Jeff looked into Gabe’s eyes. “You okay?”

  She smiled. “A little late for that question, don’t you think?”

  He grinned, nodded, placed the helmet over her head and latched it. Then Gabe did the same for him. He caught her eyes through the face shields. “Ready?”

  “Uh huh.”

  He punched the DECOMPRESS button and waited. “Sure beats two and half hours of O2 prebreathe.”

  “Yes it does.”

  When the pressure gauge read 0.1 psi, he pulled the outer hatch open. “Abby, Sue, we’re in space.”

  “Roger,” said Abby. “Once you’re out, don’t forget to close the door.”

  “Roger that.” Jeff pulled out of the hatch and hung onto the lip of the hatch seal. Gabe pulled out right behind him. He reached back in, pulled the hatch closed, and sealed it. “Okay, hatch closed and sealed. You’re cleared for REPRESS.”

  “Roger,” said Abby. “Pressurizing.”

  “Okay, Gabe, shall we?”

  “Lead on.”

  They worked their way over the storage module to the lander, now awaiting them on the forward end of the ship, and split up. Jeff inspected the fifteen-foot-diameter 70-degree sphere-cone aeroshell, while Gabe went over the approach stage attached to the lander’s nose. Upon completing his inspection, Jeff swung around to the side of the lander and opened the hatch. Gabe joined him. “How’s the stage look?”

  “Fine. How about the lander?”

  “All looks good.” He motioned to the open hatch. “Ladies first.” For all practical purposes the lander was identical to the Mars Science Laboratory lander, except that it contained four couches and avionics instead of the rover. Gabe swung around and began entering the lander feet first. Jeff helped her align with the hatch. “Tight squeeze.”

  “I’ve got it.” She pulled in across Susan’s seat and wiggled beneath Jeff’s into hers. “Okay, I’m in. I think.”

  “Alright, light her up. Let’s see if we’ve got a ship.”

  “Roger. We’ve got power and… computer’s up. Commencing diagnostics.”

  “Roger. Abby, Sue, how you doing?”

  “We’re in the airlock,” said Abby. “Be there in ten minutes.”

  “Roger. Gabe, how we doing for time?”

  “Plenty of time. Separation’s not for another 90 minutes.”

  “Rog.” Jeff stared down at the Martian surface. “I can see the day-night terminator. Looks like about an hour after sunset at Olympus Mons.”

  “Can you see it?”

  “Barely. It’s pretty dark. What’s that ridge in the southeast corner of the Amazonis Planitia called? The one southwest of Olympus Mons.”

  “Gordii Dorsum?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. Got a pretty good view of that. This place is really something.”

  “Still glad you came?”

  “You bet. How about you?”

  “I’ll let you know in four and a half hours… if we’re still alive.”

  “Pessimist.”

  “Realist.”

  “Hmmm, I hope not.”

  Gabe chuckled. “Me too.”

  “You have comms with Newport?”

  “Not yet, we’re still in Mars shadow. Should be about another ten minutes.”

  “How’s it look?”

  “Looks fine. Diagnostics are Go, and I’m uploading our current state from the CM.”

  “Rog. Abby, how you doing?”

  “Decompressing. Just about there. Another couple minutes.”

  “Rog.”

  “Jeff?” said Abby.

  “Yeah.”

  “We’re outside and closing the hatch. Be there in just a minute.”

  “Rog.”

  “Good god, what a view.”

  “Yeah, it’s really something, isn’t it?” He could hear Susan panting. “Sue, you okay?”

  “Yes. It’s unbelievable.”

  “Yeah. Um, our sun’s gonna be setting pretty soon. Get on over here and let’s get inside while we still have some daylight.”

  “Rog,” said Abby. “On our way.”

  When they arrived, Jeff oriented Susan in the hatch and shoved her in. She settled into the couch beside Gabe. “Hmmm, cozy.”

  Jeff eased forward through the hatch a short distance. “Alright, Sue, help Gabe get strapped in, then I’ll strap you in.”

  “Working on it.”

  Once they were both belted up, Jeff folded Abby’s couch down, then reached across and did the same for his, and latched both in place. He then backed out, turned around, and Abby guided him in to take his seat. He peeked beneath his console and Gabe’s at her helmet resting between his boots. “Gabe, comfy?”

  “Yeah, great. I’m just thankful I’m not claustrophobic.”

  “Really.”

  Abby strapped Jeff in then pulled into her seat. “Okay, let me get the door.” She grabbed the lanyard attached to the hatch and the capsule’s frame above her seat and gave it a yank. The hatch closed and she cranked the latching handle until a green light appeared above the hatch. “Okay, door’s locked.”

  Jeff held up the right side of Abby’s shoulder harness. “Stick your arm through.”

  “Got it.” She poked her arm through the left harness. “Okay, now comes the fun part.” For the next three minutes they struggled to get the harness clamped and cinched. “Maybe we should have practiced this in the refrigerator at home.”

  He chuckled. “That would’ve been easy, it’s bigger.”

  “Okay, I’m in… I think. Sue, give me the RCS.”

  “Coming up.” Susan raised the arms of Abby’s couch, which had the attitude control joysticks on each end. “There you go. Can you see them?”

  “No. I can’t lean forward far enough. But I can feel them.”

  “Gabe,” said Jeff, “time to sep?”

  “71 minutes.”

  “Rog. Anyone think to bring a deck of cards?”

  Nervous laughter.

  “Okay,” said Gabe, “we’ve got comms with Newport. They concur with our current state, right on track. Entry Interface minus 251 minutes.”

  “Rog. What time is it there?”

  “1746.”

  “That’s good. Maybe they
’ll all be able to stay awake long enough to see this through.”

  “What if there’s a good movie on TV?”

  “I think we’re gonna be the only thing on TV tonight.”

  “You don’t think we might be preempted by a hockey game?”

  Jeff laughed. “Wouldn’t surprise me.”

  “There’s a message from Chrissie; she says the whole world is watching.”

  “Oh great, an audience of seven billion. Let’s try not to embarrass ourselves.”

  Abby chuckled. “If we do, we’ll probably be the only ones that never know it.”

  Susan slapped the inside of Abby’s leg. “Thank you for that encouraging observation.”

  “You’re welcome. Jeff, we’re missing cocktail hour.”

  He glanced at his watch. “Not here. It’s a quarter past four in the morning for cryin’ out loud.”

  “Whatever. I could still use a drink.”

  “Yeah.”

  #

  “30 seconds,” said Gabe.

  “Roger,” said Abby. “RCS armed?”

  “A and B armed,” said Jeff

  “Pyros?”

  “Pyros A and B armed.”

  “Gabe?”

  “Go for sep. 20 seconds.”

  “2.5 feet per second?”

  “Yes.”

  “Rog.”

  “10 seconds. 5, 4…”

  “Thrusting,” said Abby.

  “2, 1… sep.”

  “SEP,” said Jeff. He felt a gentle shock as explosive bolts separated the lander from the ship. “The clock is running. EI minus 180:00.”

  “We’re clear,” said Gabe.

  “Rog,” said Abby. “0.4, 0.9, 1.4, 2.0, and… shutdown.”

  “2.5 on the EMS,” said Gabe. “Nice driving.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Alright, back off to about 50 meters then do a manual RCS check. Coming up on seventeen minutes to deorbit burn.”

  “Rog.”

  “Standby for manual RCS check,” said Abby.

  Jeff felt the lander roll, pitch and yaw both plus and minus.

  “Manual RCS is Go.”

  “Rog,” said Gabe. “And auto RCS check…” The flight computer performed the same series of checks. “Auto RCS is Go.”

  “Rog,” said Jeff. “Are we Go for EDL?” He heard Gabe take a deep breath.

  “Yes, we are Go for EDL.”

  “Roger. Do you need to get a fix?”

  “No, GDC’s aligned.”

  “Rog. Okay, Abby, turn us around and spin us up.”

  “Rog, pitching.” Abby slowly pitched 180º, orienting the lander for a retrograde burn of the approach stage main engine. “And… rotation. 0.5, 1.0, 1.5, and… shutdown. 2.0 RPM.”

  “Oh my god!” said Gabe. “I think I’m gonna barf.”

  “Just close your eyes for a minute and try not to think about it,” said Jeff. “You’ve done this in the simulator.”

  “Yes, I know. And what happened in the simulator?”

  Jeff laughed. “Um, you barfed.”

  “Right.”

  “But that was in gravity. Just relax, think happy thoughts.”

  “Do you know where we are and what we’re about to do?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Perhaps you could suggest a happy thought.”

  “Um, well, in a little over three hours you’ll be walking on Mars, you’ll have gravity, no spinning, and a nice comfy bed in the Genesis tonight.”

  “Comfy bed?”

  “Alright, comfy air mattress. In any case, you won’t be in space anymore. How’s that for a happy thought.”

  “Okay, allow me to dwell on that for a minute.”

  “Dwell away. Time to burn?”

  “14 plus 25.”

  “Rog. Range to Sundancer?”

  “110 meters.”

  “Do you have an image from that little camera in the approach stage?”

  “Yes. It’s in Video-3.”

  Jeff punched up the image on his display and watched as their home for the past seven months slowly drifted away.

  “That’s a little unnerving,” said Susan.

  He sighed. “Yeah.”

  “Not as unnerving as it’s gonna be in fourteen minutes,” said Abby. “Once we light the engine on this flying saucer, there’ll be no going back.”

  Jeff nodded to himself and stared for a moment longer, not sure what to say. “So long old girl, see you in a year and a half. Um, Gabe, here comes your state vector from Newport.”

  “I see it. Hang on.”

  He waited.

  “Okay, looks good. We’re in agreement. Abby, your sextant star is Shaula. Can you find it?”

  “Shaula? Never heard of it.”

  “It’s star 53.”

  “Yeah, right, like I remember all of them?”

  “It’s in Scorpio’s tail.”

  Abby groaned. “Can you just give me the shaft and trunnion angles?”

  “It’s already aligned. Just keep that one in the crosshairs.”

  “Okay, I’ve got it.”

  “Engine ARM,” said Gabe. “PROCEED.”

  Jeff glanced at the event timer. “Okay, standby for 180-meter per second, twelve-minute four-second Descent Orbit Insertion burn in twenty seconds. Next stop, the Margaritifer Basin.”

  “Rog,” said Abby. “If there is life down there, I hope it’s ready for some company.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Thirteen seconds,” said Gabe. “Ten seconds… 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…”

  “Ignition,” said Abby. “We’re burning. 10%.”

  “Roger,” said Gabe. “Thrust. Looking good.”

  “Rog. Throttling up. Attitude’s good. Right down the pipe.”

  “Roger. Delta-V is good. EMS and G&N are together.”

  “Gabe, pitch trim is down about a degree.”

  “That’s alright. We didn’t start at full thrust. Give it a minute or so and it’ll pick up.”

  “Rog.”

  “Not a bad ride,” said Jeff.

  “A lot smoother than launch,” said Susan.

  He chuckled. “I think the San Francisco Earthquake was smoother than launch.”

  “30 seconds,” said Gabe.

  Jeff glanced at his heads-up display. “Gabe, Delta-V looks good, don’t you think?”

  “Yes. 174.76, right on the mark. Abby, cutoff should be nominal.”

  “Rog.”

  “15 seconds… 10… 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…”

  “Shutdown.”

  “Roger,” said Jeff. “Engine ARM OFF. Abby?”

  “Residuals are all under 0.2 feet per second. Gabe, you want me to make a note of these before I trim?”

  “I don’t see why. I don’t think anyone is going to be doing this again.”

  “Good point. Trimming.”

  “Gabe,” said Jeff, “time to Entry Interface?”

  “145 plus 20.”

  “Oh boy, two and a half hours is a long time to sit here and twiddle my thumbs.”

  “Don’t you dare. I need you to keep an eye on the gravimeter, and how it’s plotting relative to our predicted track. It’s been 50 years since Apollo and we still don’t have a good understanding of mass concentrations, and they’re a lot bigger here than on the moon. The elevation difference between the Syria Planum and the Valles Marineris is around 14 kilometers, and that doesn’t include the Olympus Mons and Tharsis Montes. Those are some pretty substantial masses. Our track is relative to the MOLA, but all those gravitational perturbations could pull us down or let us float up. We need to hit EI at exactly 3,522.2 kilometers Mars radius, 569.35 kilometers from our landing site, and a descent angle of 11.5º. If we’re not exactly at that point, at that angle, at that moment, we could be in for a very long walk. So, for the next couple hours, will you please pay attention?”

  Jeff chuckled. “Yes ma’am. Do you know who’s sitting FIDO today?”

  “Supposed to be Jim, but Heidi drew up that roster over a y
ear ago. Could have changed by now, I don’t know. Why?”

  “I was just wondering if they might be any help if your mascon modeling was off a bit.”

  “Well, it’s a certainty that the model will be off by something. I mean, we aren’t even certain of the mass of the masses. I think Jerry, Jim, Dianne, and Joanne did a great job with the model, but the data points are still largely a guess. In any case, by the time they even see an error, it will be too late to do anything about it. That’s why we need to stay on our toes.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “Good. Sue, time to forget about our vital signs and be a pilot.”

  “Rog.”

  “I’m going to slew the sextant around to vertical and try and pickup our ground track. By the time we reach EI, every second we’re off in hitting our navigational marks will be roughly a mile long or short in our downrange landing position, and during hypersonic aeromanuevering we can only compensate for so much. Let’s not make Amos drive halfway around the planet to find us. More than two seconds off on any mark… I want to know about it.”

  “Got it. Gabe, calm down. We’ve practiced this a hundred times, and we all know what we have to do.”

  “Okay. Sorry.”

  #

  “EI minus 40 minutes,” said Gabe, “EDL Main.”

  “Rog,” said Jeff, “System to Entry, Descent and Landing mode, Main. Flight status poll. Flight dynamics?”

  “Go.”

  “Guidance procedures?”

  “Go.”

  “Propulsion?”

  “Go.”

  “Guidance, navigation and control systems?”

  “Go.”

  “Crew systems?”

  “Go.”

  “Electrical generation and illumination?”

  “Go.”

  “Instrumentation and communications?”

  “Go.”

  “Data processing?”

  “Go.”

  Jeff sighed. “Okay, sounds like we’re ready.”

  Abby gave him a sarcastic chuckle. “We better be, cause we’re long past the point of no return.”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Gabe, we’re still gonna go manual on Approach Stage SEP and de-spin?”