Margaritifer Basin (Margaritifer Trilogy Book 1) (126 page)

“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?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m a captain.”

“Wow. I’ve never sat at the table
with a captain before.”

“Relax, Petty Officer, we eat like
everybody else.”

“What did you do in the Navy, sir?”

“EOD.”

“Was that useful on Mars?”

He smiled and shook his head. “No,
not really.”

The young lady stared at Ghita.
“Ma’am, is she a Martian?”

“Well, she was born on Mars and
this is her first visit to Earth, so, yes, I suppose so.”

The petty officer held her hand up
with some apprehension. “May I touch her?”

Gabe chuckled. “You can do better
than that.” She unsnapped Ghita’s harness. “You can hold her while I eat.” And
she handed Ghita to the petty officer.

The petty officer gasped. “Oh my
god!”

“Just hang onto her. She’s sort of
a rag doll. Unlike Sir Isaac Newton, she has little comprehension of gravity.
It will take her a while to get used to Earth. She’s lived in space for more
than half her life.”

The others at the table simply sat
there with their mouths hanging open.

As people finished their meals more
and more gathered around the table.

Gabe looked around and smiled.
“I’ve never had an audience at supper before.”

After a moment another petty
officer across the table from them said, “Ma’am, are you in the service?”

Gabe smiled and shook her head.
“No. My title is Doctor.”

“You’re a doctor?”

“Of Philosophy. I have a Ph.D.”

“In what?”

“Aeronautics and Applied Physics.”

“Wow.” The sailors glanced around
the table at each other.

Jeff stared at the sailor. “Son,
pick a six digit number. You know, something between one hundred thousand and
one million.”

“Sir?”

Gabe slapped Jeff on the shoulder.
“Don’t.”

“I’m just making a point.”

“Son, pick a number.”

Gabe groaned.

The sailor said, “Alright,
341,906.”

“Okay. Now, pick another one.”

“Um, okay. Uh, 694,240.”

“Very good. Now multiply those
numbers together and give me the square root of the product.”

The sailor looked at Jeff with some
consternation. “I can’t, sir. I don’t even remember what both numbers were.
Besides, I’d need a calculator.”

Jeff looked around the table.
“Anyone else want to try it?” All he got was shaking heads and blank stares.
“Hard problem, isn’t it? Gabriel?”

She glared at him. “I’m going to
make you pay for this.”

“I have no doubt.”

“The product of 341,906 times
694,240 is… 237,364,549,720. And the square root of that is, um, 480,200.73 and
change.”

Everyone at and around the table
just stared at her.

She smiled and took a bite.

“How do you do that?” said the
sailor.

“I have kind of a mental chalkboard
that I can manipulate just like a chalkboard on the wall. I can see the
numbers. Then I just do the math. I also have eidetic memory, so I can remember
it all.”

Jeff patted her on the back. “And
that, ladies and gentlemen, is why she was our navigator.”

A sailor standing behind the other
side of the table raised his hand.

“Yes?”

“Sir, what’s Mars like?”

“Cold and dusty.”

“How cold?”

“Well, where we were, in the
Margaritifer Basin about fifteen degrees below the equator, on a warm summer
day it may get up to freezing. At night it frequently drops to below minus one
hundred degrees Fahrenheit. At the poles in winter it gets cold enough to
freeze the atmosphere, which is about 95% carbon dioxide, and it snows CO
₂
ice.”

There were soft gasps around the
table.

Jeff smiled. “That’s not the worst
of it. All that atmosphere falling to the ground, creates enormous low pressure
systems over the poles that draw in atmosphere from the rest of the planet
creating winds in excess of one hundred miles per hour. Those winds kick up
dust, generating dust storms that can cover the entire planet for weeks, or
even months, and block up to 99% of the sunlight.”

“Did you experience one like that?”
said another sailor.

“Yes we did. We had one come up
about a month after we landed. It lasted about six weeks. Couldn’t see a thing
outside.”

“What did you do?” asked the sailor
holding Ghita.

“Well, we did what most sensible
people would do in conditions like that; we stayed inside and, um…” He glanced
at Gabe who closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. “And, uh,” he pointed at
Ghita, “made her.”

The crowd laughed.

Another hand went up.

“Yes?”

The sailor pointed at Jeff’s chest.
“Sir, the wings on your flight suit are different than the ones all the pilots
onboard wear, and even yours and hers are different.”

Jeff nodded. “Yeah. These are
astronaut wings. Mine are Navy; Gabe is a civilian astronaut. Her wings were
issued by NASA.”

“What was re-entry like?” asked
another.

Gabe frowned. “Harrowing. It only
took twelve minutes from atmospheric entry interface to splashdown, but in the
interim we peaked at 6.2gs. At that point it feels like there’s an elephant
sitting on you. But that wasn’t nearly as bad as the Mars landing. That only
took seven minutes, but we peaked at just a bit over 11gs. I passed out.”

“11gs?!”

“Uh huh. If you weigh 150 pounds
here on Earth, at 11gs your body weighs 1,650 pounds, and everything inside
your body is trying very hard to get out the back. I’d prefer not to do it
again.”

There was muted laughter.

Another asked, “Did you find any
signs of life on Mars?”

Jeff shook his head. “Nope, not a
thing. We reconfirmed what the various Mars rovers have discovered; that once,
billions of years ago, Mars
may
have possessed an environment conducive
to the rise of biologics, but we found no sign of that ever happening. Our
theory is that there just wasn’t enough time for biologic development before
the cataclysmic event that created the Borealis basin occurred, and blew away
Mars atmosphere and any surface water that existed.”

“What was that?”

“The Borealis basin covers roughly the northern 40%
of Mars, and is generally believed to be an impact crater from a meteor about
the size of Pluto. That took place around four billion years ago during an era
known as the Late Heavy Bombardment, so whatever potential Mars had for life
form development vanished a long time ago.” He shrugged. “So, no Martians.
Well, one.” He pointed at Ghita.

“But is she really a Martian?”

“Well, she was born on Mars and
until today has never been to Earth. So, what else would she be?”

“Why is she so weak?” asked the
sailor holding her.

Gabe shrugged. “Lack of muscle
development. She spent the first six and a half months of her life on Mars,
which only has 38% of Earth’s gravity, and the next seven months in the
weightlessness of space. We had exercise equipment on our ship – a bike, a
Bowflex, and a few other things – but they were beyond her ability to use. We
tried a lot of isometrics, but that’s kind of hard with an infant. They’re
generally uncooperative. But once she gets the hang of Earth gravity, we think
she’ll catch up pretty fast. We believe she has the genetic makeup to achieve
normal human stature and strength, she just needs some time.” Gabe handed Ghita
her spoon. Ghita took it and stuck it in her mouth.

“She knows what to do with a
spoon?”

“Sure.”

“Does she eat regular food?”

“No. We decided it would be simpler
not to introduce her to regular food until after we got home. She knows what to
do with a spoon through imitation, but so far she’s been exclusively
breastfed.”

“Are you glad to be home?” asked
another sailor.

Gabe laughed. “If you saw our
habitat on Mars, our habitat in space, and our home in Rhode Island, you would
know the answer to that question.”

Saturday, October 13,
2018

1314 local time

As two tugboats slowly maneuvered
the
Makin Island
into a pier at Pearl Harbor Naval Station, Jeff, Gabe,
with Ghita harnessed to her, Abby, and Susan watched from the starboard
aircraft elevator. “Good grief,” said Jeff, “there has to be a couple thousand
people down there.”

Gabe groaned. “At least.”

“What’s with all the limousines and
black SUVs?”

“I don’t know.”

Two women stood at the edge of the
pier, jumping up and down and waving furiously. Jeff chuckled and pointed.
“Looks like those two have been missing their husbands or boyfriends for a
while.”

Abby peered at them. “I don’t think
so. That’s Chrissie and Heidi.”

He looked hard. “I’ll be damned, it
is.”

They all grinned and waved.

Once moored and the gangplank
secured, the team made their way down to the quarterdeck. Jeff saluted the
Captain. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“It was our pleasure. You’ve given my
crew an experience they’ll never forget.”

They all shook hands, then Jeff
turned to the Officer of the Deck and saluted. “Request permission to go
ashore.”