Margaritifer Basin (Margaritifer Trilogy Book 1) (19 page)

Monday, June 25, 2012
(T minus 1366 days)

Jeff opened the door at Cindtronix
for Abby and Gabe. “Morning, Bob. Have a good weekend?”

“Hey Jeff, just fine. How about
you?”

“Great. Say I’d like you to meet a
couple of my team members. This is Abigail Nolan and Gabriel Frederick.”
Turning to them, “Bob Masse, my flight instructor.”

Bob reached across the counter and
shook hands, “Pleased to meet you.”

“Bob, Gabe here also needs to learn
how to fly. I’d like you to give her the second slot I had reserved today, and
get her started with an introductory flight. And put it all on my tab.”

“Well sure, glad to.”

“Abby already flies, so she’s here
on a slightly different errand. Can you point her in the direction of whoever
it is that we can rent a hangar from?”

“Yeah, sure. You buying a plane?”

“Already did.” Jeff pointed out the
window to short-term parking, “That Citation.”

“Holy crap! Pardon my French
ladies. That’s yours?”

“Yeah, told you I was gonna get
one.”

“Yeah but, jeez! Everyone around
has been wondering who belonged to that. Nice plane.”

“Yeah, it’s fun. Picked it up in
Wichita on Friday.”

“So, who flies it?”

“Abby,” nodding his head toward her.

Bob’s eyebrows went up as he glanced at her. “Wow.
I’ve been flying for 40 years and never even flown a turboprop. Maybe I should
be taking lessons from you.”

Abby grinned.

Bob gave Abby directions to the
airport administrator’s office then headed for the door for Jeff’s flight
lesson.

Before following, Jeff turned to
Abby and Gabe, “We’ll eventually need space for another plane or two…”

“Two?” said Abby, looking a bit
puzzled.

“Yeah, in addition to a C90, I’m
thinking when another one of us gets type rated maybe we’ll get a Citation X,
just to give us some additional speed and legs.”

“Ooo…kay.”

“Anyway, we’ll need more space so
ask about pads that may be available that we could build on.”

“Right. Got it.”

“Oh, and don’t forget to show Gabe
the plane.”

Gabe smiled, “Uh, yes. By all
means.”

When Jeff returned from his lesson,
Abby and Gabe were waiting for him in the Cindtronix office. Abby smiled, “So,
how’d it go?”

“Great. Hey, we’re flyin’. Okay
Gabe, you’re up. Have fun.”

She took a deep breath, “I don’t
mind saying, I’m scared to death.”

Abby smacked her on the back of the
head, “Show some backbone girl, it’s easy.”

Gabe gritted her teeth and followed
Bob to the plane.

Jeff turned to Abby, “So?”

“Well, they’ve got some hangar
space available, but nothing big enough for a CJ3.”

“Figures. How about building
space?”

“That, they have plenty of.”

“Okay, job opportunity. Pick a spot
and get a hangar built. Hmmm…” Jeff stood tapping his fingers on the counter
for a minute while he thought.

“What?”

“You know, we’re also gonna need a
couple of mock-ups. Trainers. Command module, landing module, ascent module, at
the very least. Might think about putting all of that in one big hangar here.”

“Didn’t you say you could get space
over at the Naval Station?”

“Yeah, but this might be more
convenient. And if we have to build anyway…”

“We’ll need to figure out how much
space we’ll need.”

“Yeah. Work on it.”

“Got it.”

When Bob and Gabe returned, Jeff
and Abby were waiting for them on the tarmac.

As Gabe climbed out, Abby pointed
at her and nudged Jeff, “Jeez, look at her. She looks like she just saw a
ghost.”

Gabe gingerly walked up to them,
carefully measuring her steps.

Abby laughed, “Hey, you look a
little pale. What’s the matter, flying not agree with you?”

Gabe shook her head, “The good news
is I didn’t throw up or wet my pants. The bad news is I spent the past hour
thinking about doing both at the same time.”

Jeff smiled, “You’ll get used to
it. Come on, let’s get back to the office, we’ve got work to do.” He waved at
Bob, “Thanks, we’ll see you again tomorrow.”

Gabe’s jaw dropped, “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, crash course. Full
immersion.”

“Oh god.”

Gabe stood in the conference room
staring at the drawings that remained untouched on the dry erase boards.

Jeff could tell the wheels were
turning in her head, “What’s on your mind?”

“Oh, just curious. These tuna cans,
how are they constructed?”

“Well, we need to take a look at
that. Conventional wisdom would be aluminum, but I’m thinking of maybe a
Kevlar/carbon fiber laminate for the pressure shell; lighter and stronger.”

“And more expensive.”

“Yeah, but we could also make them
a bit bigger, which we’d probably be grateful for in pretty short order.”

“And what else?”

“Oh, maybe an inch and a half of
Aerogel insulation and a thin aluminum outer shell. Then some kind of flexible
coupling to join them, solar cells on the roofs to augment the larger arrays,
life support, blah, blah, blah. We’ll need to get started on a design pretty
quick.” Jeff’s cell phone rang. “Jeff Grey.”

“Hey Jeff, Paul Andovar.”

“Hi Paul. Good to hear from you. I
was starting to get worried.”

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t get back to
you sooner but I’ve been talking with a few folks, taking their temperature on
your plan.”

“And?”

“Well, obviously there’s a lot of
skepticism, but also a lot of interest. With all the budget cutbacks over the
past few years, the aerospace industry has been suffering and there are a few
players who may just be willing to go out on a limb to get the fires stoked up
again. Something like this, if well received by the public could, as you say,
open a whole new chapter. I’d like you to come down again and meet with a small
group of folks who are willing to hear you out. Would Thursday morning be
convenient, say around ten?”

“We’ll be there. Can I bring a
couple of my people – folks that are a bit smarter than me?”

Paul chuckled. “Sure, no problem.”

“Also, is there an airport around
there? I’m not keen on making that drive again.”

“Nothing commercial this side of Newark,
which is some distance.”

“We have our own plane, all we
need’s a big enough airstrip.”

“The Commercial Air Terminal at
Dover AFB is only a few miles from us.”

“That’ll do. Can somebody at ILC
pick us up, say, 9:30-ish?”

“No problem. I’ll pick you up myself.
One thing, you need permission to land at Dover. I’d call them today.”

“Got it. I’ll put my pilot on it.
And Paul, thanks. Really appreciate your efforts.”

“My pleasure. It’s an exciting
proposal. Look forward to seeing you Thursday.”

“Same here. Bye.”

Gabe raised her eyebrows, “Who was
that? Sounds interesting.”

“Yeah, it is. That was Paul
Andovar, Marketing Director at ILC Dover. I met with him last week and he wants
us down there Thursday morning for a meeting with some other interested
parties. Sounds promising. Where’s Abby?”

“In the office working on
something.”

Jeff yelled toward the door, “Abby!
Got a minute?”

She hollered back, “Coming.”

Jeff turned to her as she walked in
the door, “Have another job for you.”

“What’s up?”

“The three of us are going down to
Dover, Delaware Thursday morning for a meeting with a group of folks at ILC
Dover. They’ve been a major NASA contractor for years and make spacesuits,
inflatable habitats, airbags like the ones used to land the Mars Explorers and
some other stuff. I met with their Marketing Director last week and we were
just invited back for a second interview, so to speak. We need to fly down to
the Commercial Air Terminal at Dover AFB and be ready for pickup at 9:30 am.
Seems we need permission to land there. That something you can take care of?”

“No problem. I’ll get the
permission and file a flight plan. What are we gonna talk about?”

“The whole nine yards. Let’s have
all our ducks lined up and make a good impression. This could be our big
break.”

“Roger that.”

Gabe nodded, “Sounds good.”

As Abby headed out the door she
said over her shoulder, “We’re gonna need a secretary.”

Jeff grimaced, “Yeah, I know. It’s
on my list.”

Thursday, June 28,
2012 (T minus 1363 days)

Jeff, Abby and Gabe landed at Dover
Air Force Base at 9:00 a.m. after a 50-minute flight from Quonset. Jeff was all
grins, “Last time I came down here it took me six hours on the freeway. This is
great!” Abby taxied to the Civilian Air Terminal, parked the Citation, and they
waited in the terminal for Paul.

Besides Paul, at the meeting from
ILC were Malcolm Reynolds, General Manager; Debra St. John, Project Manager,
Spacesuits Division; Fred Dyson, Project Manager, Inflatable Habitats Division;
Steve Weymouth, Project Manager, Airbags Division; and Gary Langley, Business
Manager, ILC Houston Operations.

Paul introduced everyone around the
table and got the ball rolling. “Jeff, I’ve already discussed your proposal
with everyone here and I think we have a basic understanding of what you have
in mind. It is, to say the least, an incredibly ambitious undertaking. We are,
as you may well imagine, more than a bit skeptical about the prospects for
success. Nevertheless, as ILC’s brain trust, we’re fascinated by the prospect
of getting back in the space business. ILC, along with many other aerospace
firms, has been sorely affected by the past few years’ NASA budget cuts and
what effectively amounts to the demise of the U.S. manned space program. What
we’d like from you is enough detail on your mission plan for us to reasonably
assess the likelihood of success and what you see as ILC’s role.”

Jeff nodded, “Fair enough, and
thank you all for sparing us this time. I sincerely hope we’ll make it worth
your while. In a nutshell, what we envision is a high-risk, minimum cost,
minimalist approach using existing off-the-shelf proven and available
commercial technology and systems. Nothing fancy, nothing exotic, nothing… big,
and nothing to be invented. We have the technology to do this, we’ve had it for
years. NASA and the federal government, largely owing to a couple of shuttle
disasters and the associated negative public opinion, have essentially achieved
a state of analysis paralysis. Without suitable motivation, I don’t envision
any worthwhile manned space exploration program in our lifetimes, maybe not in
our children’s lifetimes. Our goal is to achieve something that will stir the
public and serve as a catalyst to get things going again. Yes, it is risky,
very risky. But, no pain, no gain. And this
can
be done.

“Our target budget for the complete
mission is one billion dollars, though I suspect it will ultimately be closer
to two or three.”

A wave of chuckles and sighs rose
from the table, accompanied by a lot of eye rolling and head shaking.

Debra St. John threw up her hands,
“That’s ridiculous. It cost that much just to launch the shuttle to low orbit
to service the ISS for two weeks.”

Jeff nodded, “Yep, it sure did.
Anything the government touches is very expensive, but we’re not the
government. Five years ago SpaceWorks produced an AIAA proposal for a manned
Mars mission that was generally well received and came in at $96.8 billion.”
Jeff shoved a stack of papers across the table where everyone could reach a
copy, “Here’s my version. I’ve provided direct, verifiable, workable
substitutes right down the list and it costs $1.8 billion. Go ahead, research
it, do the math. But then, you don’t really need to, do you? Because you’ve
already done it, at least in part, many times. And you know I’m right.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you don’t
need the Concorde to get from Los Angeles to New York. You can get there in a
clapped-out 1963 Volkswagen. It may not be as fast or as safe or carry as many
people or as much luggage, but it
can
get you there! And
that
is
the entire point.”

Jeff paused to give the group time to look over the
plan.

Malcolm Reynolds looked up after a moment, “You do
seem to have most everything covered, but there’s no redundancy. No safety
measures. No backups.”

“That’s correct. Sounds kind of
like the Apollo Program, doesn’t it? I can see there are a few of you at this
table old enough to remember the moment when Neil Armstrong first set foot on
the moon. How many people were complaining of a lack of redundancy then?
Kennedy said we were going to do it, and we did. Now I’m not Kennedy, but I say
we are going to do this, and we will.”

“And what if you don’t come back?”
Debra asked.

“Then I would hope that someone
would stand up and say, ‘At least they tried. Let’s try again and do better.’
Let’s be honest, the mission does not need to be entirely successful to be…
successful, in a manner of speaking.”

“And that’s a risk you’re willing
to take?”

Jeff, Abby and Gabe simultaneously
responded, “Yes.”

All heads snapped up and looked
furtively back and forth at Abby and Gabe. “You two are going?” Paul asked in
astonishment.

Gabe nodded. Abby smiled, “Wouldn’t
miss it for the world.”

“Jesus.”

Jeff smiled, “Well, he’s not on the crew manifest,
but I trust he’ll be with us.”

Malcolm chimed in, “Okay, I get the
picture. It may –
may
– be feasible. For now I’ll grant you the benefit
of doubt. What do you want from ILC?”

“What I want is, first, to know if ILC Dover wants
its name and logo emblazoned in big bold letters on our suits and habitats when
we broadcast live video from Mars? And, if so, what’s that worth to you?”