“Yes.”
“Well, that’s good. Cause if we were flying forward, that would be bad.”
“Yes. Very bad.”
“That’s Alaska down there, isn’t it?” said Abby. “A lot of mountains.”
“Yes,” said Gabe.
“Alright,” said Jeff, “everyone stop sightseeing and pay attention. Let’s get back on Earth first, we can do the travelogue later.”
“Ares, Newport, transmitting through ARIA 1, we’ve got your data. You’re 1,729 miles uprange, 35,706 feet per second, and about one minute from entry interface.”
“Rog, Newport.”
“Here we go,” said Gabe. “Communications blackout in one minute. God I hope these parachutes work.”
“Well if they don’t, I’m gonna write Boeing a very nasty letter.”
“No you won’t. Sue, how’s Ghita doing?”
“Proverbially speaking, sleeping like a baby.”
“Lucky her. I wish I was.”
“Come on, Gabe,” said Jeff, “in 13 minutes we’ll be back on Earth.”
“Define Earth. We’re coming down in the Pacific Ocean and the nearest land is two miles away… straight down.”
“400,000 feet,” said Abby. “Entry Interface. And… .05g light on the EMS.”
“EMS scroll,” said Gabe.
“Scroll.”
“.05g switch ON, EMS roll ON.”
“Both ON.”
“1g… 2… 3”
“Accelerometer and DSKY?”
“Looks good.”
“Three and a half… 4… 5… 6… 6.2. Rolling 180.”
“Looking good.”
“Decelerating. 4gs.”
“450 miles,” said Gabe.
“3gs.”
“EMS is…”
“Minus 70. Right on the money.”
“Ares, Newport. How do you read?”
“Newport, Ares. Weak but readable. How me?” said Jeff.
“Read you same. Sure is good to hear from you.”
“10,000 feet per second,” said Gabe. “About 100 miles to go. I can barely see.”
“That was quite an experience,” said Jeff. “One that I don’t think I’d care to partake of again.”
“60 miles. I’m receiving our cross range data now.”
“Newport, Ares,” said Jeff. “We’re at 50k, about eight and half miles to go on the EMS.”
“Copy.”
“Sequence Pyro, two, to ARM,” said Gabe.
“Pyro to ARM,” said Jeff. “Newport, Ares, Pyros armed, standing by for 30k feet.”
“Rog.”
“Coming up on 30. Abby?”
“I’ve got it. ELS logic ON. AUTO.”
“Okay, standby…”
“Drogues. Cabin pressure increasing. Standby for mains. 10 seconds.”
“Ares, this is Recovery 1, I have visual contact.”
“Uh, rog. 14… 13… 12… Eleven thousand feet and… main chute deployment.”
“Mains!” yelled Abby.
“Ares, this is Recovery 1, I have your mains.”
“Roger. Repress OFF, direct O2 OPEN.”
“CM RCS logic ON,” said Abby.
“Propellant to DUMP,” said Gabe.
“Ares, this is Swim 2, we have you 080, two miles. Over.”
“Copy, Swim 2. We’re not going anywhere,” said Jeff.
“Ares, this is Photo 1, chutes look good.”
“Roger. All three?”
“Affirmative.”
“Roger.”
“Ares, this is Makin Island, over.”
“Good morning, Makin Island, nice to hear from you.”
“This is Makin Island, we are approximately eight miles southeast of your anticipated splashdown position and on our way to you. What is your condition?”
“Everything seems fine, 3,500 feet. Crew’s in good shape, and we’re just hanging around waiting to go for a swim.”
“This is Makin Island, roger. Airboss, Makin Island.”
“Airboss, go ahead.”
“Roger, Airboss, do you have visual on Ares?”
“This is Airboss, affirmative.”
“This is Ares,” said Jeff, “2,500 feet.”
“Roger. Airboss, Makin Island, what’s the swimmer status?”
“Swim 2 is closing in on Ares, should arrive just a minute or two following splashdown. Swim 1 is still a few miles out. Swim 1 will attempt to recover the chutes, then assist Swim 2 once Ares is at stable 1.”
“Roger. Photo 1, we are receiving your video.”
“Photo 1, roger.”
“This is Ares, 1,500 feet.”
“Roger, Ares, this is Swim 2, you’re looking great. I’m about a mile from you.”
“Roger, Swim 2. We’re looking forward to shaking your hand.”
“I’ll bet you are.”
“This is Ares, 1,000 feet. Gabe, Cabin Pressure Relief CLOSED.”
“CLOSED,” said Gabe.
“Main Bus Ties OFF.”
“OFF.”
“500 feet. Here comes the water, everybody hang on. And… splashdown!”
Abby sighed aloud. “Well, that wasn’t so bad.”
“This is Swim 2, splashdown.”
They sat there for a moment, and then began to tip.
“Uh oh,” said Jeff, “here we go.” And the capsule rolled over, leaving them all hanging upside down from their shoulder harnesses. “Oh, great. Stable 2.”
“Didn’t all the Apollo capsules splashdown this way?” said Susan.
“About half of them. It was a coin toss. Occupational hazard. The bitch is: besides being upside down, we have no communications because our antennas are underwater and it’ll be eight or ten minutes before the flotation bags flip us back over. Oh, crap, gravity isn’t what it’s all cracked up to be. Um, Abby, Gabe, break out the post-splashdown checklists, and see if you can get us through that before the swimmers arrive.”
“I just wet my pants again,” said Gabe.
“Yeah, well, there’s a lot of that going on. Just grab the damn checklist and get us through this.”
“Ah, there we go,” said Jeff. The capsule slowly rolled upright. “Finally. Swim 2, Ares, seems we’re finally at stable 1.”
“Swim 2, roger, sir, concur.”
“Airboss, Makin Island, is the capsule at stable 1?”
“This is Airboss, that’s affirmative. Swim 2 you are cleared for recovery.”
“Swim 2, roger. Lowering swimmer.”
“This is Airboss, swimmer is in the water.”
Jeff looked up at the knock on the hatch, and waved at the frogman. “The reception committee is here.”
Gabe grasped his hand, and at the same time smiled and cried. “We made it.”
He took Abby’s hand and reached down for Susan’s. “Yeah, we made it.” He leaned back in the couch and laughed. “We did it! WE DID IT!”
Abby leaned over and kissed him. “No, boss, you did it. And somewhere on Mount Everest, George Mallory’s ghost is smiling.”
Jeff wiped the tears from his eyes. “Yeah, I’ll bet he is.” He took a moment to catch his breath. “Okay, let’s get out of here, go for a little sail, and go home.”
“Works for me. I’m tired.”
“Me too. I’ll get the hatch. Sue, you want to wake Ghita up, and prepare for a little helo ride?”
“Roger that.”
Jeff climbed out of his seat and opened the hatch. The swimmer shook his hand. “Welcome home, sir.”
“Thank you. It’s been a long time.”
One at a time they exited the capsule into a small raft and were lifted in a basket to the helicopter; first Gabe and Ghita, then Susan, then Abby, and finally Jeff. During the 15-minute flight to the USS Makin Island they changed into dry flight suits, and Gabe changed Ghita’s diapers.
“I don’t think I can walk,” said Gabe. “My legs just aren’t there.”
Jeff shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, too much
time in space. We’ll get you a wheelchair or something. You’ll be fine in a day or two.”
Upon landing on the Makin Island’s flight deck, a gaggle of flight deck personnel brightly decorated in a variety of shirt colors swarmed around the helicopter led by a dozen or so “whiteshirts” – medical personnel. Once the flight crewman got the door open, Jeff yelled, “Corpsman!” A whiteshirt ran up to the helo. Jeff took Ghita from Gabe and handed her to the Corpsman. “Here, take her, and don’t drop her, she’s the only Martian. And we need a wheelchair.”
The Corpsman, eyes wide as he took Ghita from Jeff’s arms, nodded, then turned around and yelled, “wheelchair!”
Another Corpsman came running out of the crowd with a wheelchair. Flight deck and aircrew personnel helped Gabe from the helicopter and into the wheelchair. Then assisted Jeff, Abby, and Susan out onto the flight deck where they gingerly stood wobbling. Over the 1MC, the ship’s public address circuit, they heard a Boatswain’s Mate pipe, “Attention,” ring four bells, and announce, “Captain, United States Navy, arriving.” That was immediately followed by another, “Attention,” four more bells and, “Commander, United States Navy, arriving.”
A yellowshirt, a flight deck officer, came running up to them. Jeff and Abby both saluted the stars and stripes flying from the mast. Jeff turned to the officer, saluted again, and said, “Request permission to come aboard, sir.”
The officer returned Jeff’s salute, and said with considerable excitement, “Permission granted, sir. I’m the Executive Officer, Commander Day, welcome aboard the USS Makin Island, and welcome home.”
“Thank you.” He glanced at Gabe, Abby, and Susan. “I think the four of us are glad to be back.” Then he pointed at Ghita, crying in the Corpsman’s arms. “Her, I’m not so sure about. She’s never been here before.”
Another whiteshirt came running up. “Hi, I’m Commander Richards, one of the ship’s medical doctors. How are you all feeling? You look a little unsteady.”
“Commander, we just spent seven months in space and haven’t felt Earth’s gravity in a little over two and half years. I think we’re all okay but, yes, a little unsteady.” He pointed at Ghita again. “And she’s never felt anything like this. Fact is, she’s spent over half her life in space.”
The Commander smiled. “Understood. I’d like to put all of you in wheelchairs until we can get you down into sickbay and get you checked out. You just got here, let’s not have any accidents.”
Jeff gave Susan a questioning look.
She nodded.
“Okay, whatever you say.”
Gabe reached out for Ghita.
“Ma’am,” said Commander Richards, “why don’t we let the Corpsman take your daughter down to sickbay? It’ll be safer, and we’ll get her back to you just as soon as we’re below.”
Gabe nodded. “Alright.”
Inside the superstructure a senior officer greeted them. “Welcome aboard folks. I’m Captain Xavier, the ship’s Commanding Officer.”
They each shook hands with the Captain.
“It’s a great relief to see you all back home safely.”
“Thank you, Captain,” said Jeff. “It’s nice to be home, and thanks for picking us up. I hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience.”
“No, not at all. We were scheduled to be in Pearl about now anyway, and when we received orders detailing us to the recovery the crew was ecstatic. We don’t get to do many of these anymore – particularly one of this magnitude – and it’s something all of us will remember for the rest of our lives. And if you don’t mind, we’re gonna paint your mission patch up on the bridge wing right next to the ship’s decorations.”
Jeff nodded. “We would be honored, sir.”
“Alright then. Let’s see, you’re on your way down to sickbay for a checkout. After that we’ll get you settled into some staterooms, and then, if you feel up to it, I’d be honored if you would join me for lunch.”
“I think we would enjoy that, sir.”
“Also, in accordance with instructions from your Mission Control Center, there is no media onboard except our own Mass Communications Specialists. If later today you could give them a few words, I’m sure they’d appreciate it. Otherwise, no press conferences until we arrive in Pearl tomorrow afternoon.”
Jeff smiled. “Thank you, Captain. We’re astronauts, not celebrities.”
“Sir, I think you’re celebrities now, whether or not you want to be.”
Jeff shook his head. “Good point.”
“Oh, and you don’t have to call me sir. I looked it up – you’re about six months senior to me.”
“Call it a professional courtesy, Captain.”
“Alright, then off to sickbay with you. Oh, forgot, we’ll be bringing your capsule onboard in about an hour. If any of you feel up to it and want to watch, you’re welcome to join me on the bridge. We’ll be remaining at flight quarters until we’ve recovered all of our aircraft.”
“Sure, sounds interesting, but we’ll see what the medics have to say.”
“Roger that.”
An hour later Jeff and Abby stood on the bridge wing watching the capsule recovery effort, Gabe and Susan having elected to remain in sickbay with Ghita, who was extremely displeased with gravity. They watched nervously as the United States Marine Corps CH-53K heavy-lift helicopter gingerly set their command module on the Makin Island’s flight deck. “Captain,” said Jeff, “are you going to leave it up here, or move it into the hangar bay?”
“We’ll move it down into the hangar bay for the transit to Pearl. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to it.”
“How?”
“We’ll have Tilley pick it up, move it onto an elevator, and take it down.”
“Rog. Um, be careful, it belongs to NASA. We just have it on loan and I’m pretty sure they want it back. There are two containers inside beneath the left and right couches. Those belong to us. Once it’s in the hangar bay I wonder if you could loan us a couple of greenshirts to get those out of the capsule and onto a pallet? We’ll take those back to Newport with us. What to do with the rest is between you and NASA.”
“Sure, no problem. NASA has a C-135 at Hickam waiting to take the capsule to Houston. What are they going to do with it?”
“Oh, about the same they did with the Apollo command modules: thoroughly inspect it, analyze performance and effects of re-entry, download a bunch of data from the computer’s memory banks, retrieve all the gear that we borrowed from them, like our launch suits, download copies of all the images from our cameras before they return them to us, retrieve a box of contingency samples for JPL that we brought back in case the sample return vehicle doesn’t make it, that kind of thing. And eventually, so we’re told, it’ll go back on display at the Apollo-Saturn V Center at Kennedy, albeit with a different service module, since the original CSM-119 module is now toast.”
“What happened to it?” said Commander Day.
“Burned up on re-entry, as did the Sundancer – our living quarters in space – and our storage module. There’s just no practical way anymore to return stuff that big to Earth intact. Might have been able to do it with the Shuttle, but that’s no longer an option.”
“I see. Commander Nolan, what’s flying that like?”
“You can call me Abby.”
He chuckled. “Okay.”
“It’s not as hard as you might think. Most of the time you’re just drifting in space. You only make occasional burns and, for the most part, the computer handles those. Docking with something or reorienting for a slow rotation to maintain constant solar heating of the surface are about the only hands-on maneuvers. The biggest difference between it and say, an F/A-18, is all the buttons and switches. For something that compact, it has a lot of gear in it, and remembering where everything is and what it does can be a bit of a challenge. It’s more like flying a 747 than a fighter or helo, which is why there are three of us at the flight controls.”
“Can we take a peek inside?
”
Jeff nodded. “Once it’s settled in the hangar bay, sure.”
That evening, the team declined the Captain’s invitation to dine with him again, suggesting instead that they dine with the crew. “I think they deserve it,” said Jeff. Abby and Susan dined in the wardroom and Chief’s mess respectively, while Jeff, Gabe, and Ghita dined in the crew’s mess. A Marine Gunnery Sergeant accompanied Jeff, Gabe, and Ghita – harnessed to Gabe – to the crew’s mess.
“Sir, ma’am, we’ll get you seated, then have the mess crew bring you your meals.”
Jeff shook his head. “Thanks, gunny, but we can go through the mess line like everybody else.”
“As you wish, sir.”
As they entered the vast mess, the hundreds of sailors and Marines stood and applauded. Jeff held out his hands in a calming motion, then motioned for them to sit. “Thank you. We hope you don’t mind if we join you for supper.”
A couple hundred people stood and grabbed their trays to make seats for them.
“Everybody sit,” yelled Jeff, laughing. “We only need two seats.”
At the beginning of the chow line, people cleared out of the way for them.
Jeff motioned them back. “No, go ahead. You folks earned your chow. We can wait.”
Jeff and Gabe picked up trays and utensils, then walked down the buffet and were served their meals. Then waded into the mess and found two seats. Those at the table stood to attention as they sat.
Jeff smiled. “Ladies and gentlemen, carry on. We’re just here to eat. Except for lunch this afternoon with your Captain, we’ve had almost nothing but freeze-dried food for two and a half years, and we’re looking forward to some good Navy chow.”
Seated beside Gabe was a young female petty officer.
Gabe looked at her. “And what do you do on this ship?”
“I’m an Information Systems Technician.”
Jeff glanced over at her. “Is that what they used to call a Radioman?”
“Yes, sir.”
“God, they sure made it more complicated. I’d be lost today.”
“You were in the Navy, sir?”
“Technically, still am. Inactive reserve.”
“What are you?”
He laughed. “You mean my rate or rank?”
Margaritifer Basin (Margaritifer Trilogy Book 1) Page 103