Margaritifer Basin (Margaritifer Trilogy Book 1) (7 page)

“Oh lord.”

“Sorry about that. The front door
and kitchen side door are keyed alike, that’s this one, but everything else,
including all the original interior skeleton locks are different. I’m sorry, I
have no idea which one is which. Good luck. But at present, everything inside
should be unlocked.”

“Good. And it’s probably going to
stay that way.”

“And here’s the alarm code. You
can, of course, change it whenever you’d like. However, if you’ll need me to
let people in when you’re out of town, I’ll need to know what it is.”

“No problem. Are there instructions
somewhere?”

“Yes, there’s a drawer in the
kitchen island with instructions and paperwork covering all the new systems and
appliances. The alarm instructions are in there along with everything else.”

“Great.”

Jeff showed them off and found
himself standing alone on the front porch, the master of Wrentham House. “Toto,
I’ve a feeling we’re not in Long Beach anymore.”

That afternoon Jeff met with the
rep from CORE Business Systems and gave him his marching orders: Passive
optical Internet connection, GPON or better; gigabit Ethernet, hardwired on the
lower level, wireless everywhere else; extensible server rack in the climate
controlled wine cellar with online mirror redundancy; firewalls; a block of
static IP addresses; a domain, greyaerospace.com; top-of-the-line desktops and
laptops; VOIP; computer driven audio-video throughout the house, and on and on.
“Don’t spare the gigabits.”

Late in the afternoon Jeff suddenly
realized he had missed lunch and was getting hungry. As he also needed a few
things for the house, he drove into town for a little shopping. Bedding,
kitchenware, a few hand tools, a small table and a couple patio chairs from
Wal-Mart; scotch, wine, and a bag of ice at Vickers’ Liquors; and a large sack
of takeout Szechwan from Kio’s Asian Stir. “That should get me through the
night.” Back at home he spread out on the patio to enjoy the ocean breeze, the
view of Goose Neck Cove… and some Chinese.

Reflecting on the three and a half
weeks since the lottery payoff, Jeff was satisfied with his accomplishments so
far, particularly since he was still working. One week of school to go, and
then he’d be able to devote 100% of his time to the project. He felt like he
was at the beginning of a marathon, somewhere back in the pack and yet to even
cross the start line.

Jeff retrieved his ‘To do’ list
from his briefcase, a yellow legal pad with page after page of notes that was
rapidly reaching the stage of chaotic incomprehensibility and cried out for a
better solution. He added another line to the last page, “Get a secretary.”
Unfortunately, that would have to wait a few weeks until he actually made the
move to Newport.

He flipped back to his notes on
getting help; that was certainly the next critical step. He knew what he
wanted: a small nucleus team – four or five – that possessed enthusiasm for the
project equal to his, and willing to devote the next six and a half years of
their lives to the single-minded goal of accomplishing the mission. And he
wanted them here at Wrentham House. No semi-autonomous collection of
nine-to-five department heads that only saw one another once a week in the
conference room, but a family that lived, breathed, ate and thought together as
a single entity. One goal, one purpose, one existence, no distractions; nothing
else mattered until they were done. There was no other way; there just wasn’t
enough time.

Jeff had also concluded that this
should be, in a broad sense, an owner-operator mission. Not just from his
perspective, but the crew as well. After all, if those that were planning the
mission knew they would be going on it, they’d likely have a bit more
motivation to get it right.

The required skill set was easy
enough to define: astronautics, aeronautics, physics, engineering,
communications, medicine and, of course, an abundance of intelligence and
organizational talent. Oh, and a pilot. A geologist would be nice, but looking
at rocks was not high on the list of mission priorities. Getting there and back
– alive – was the first order of business. But just as important was attitude.
These people would need to get along with each other, not to mention Jeff
himself, and for a long time under some of the most difficult conditions and
circumstances imaginable. These people would have to be very special. Indeed,
extraordinary. And he had to find them quickly.

Jeff sat back, closed his eyes and
tried to picture the group. What did they look like? How did they interact? Who
was sitting across the table from him at a brainstorming session? Who was in
the chair beside him in a command module atop an Atlas V during those last
seconds of countdown, anticipating a million pounds of thrust and a launch into
oblivion? And most importantly, if things went wrong, who’s might be the last
face he would ever see? Now there was interesting question. Seeing as how he
apparently had the choice, whom might he want beside him at the end?
Philosophically it might not matter much at that point, and it was not a
subject he really wanted to dwell on. Still, it was something to think about.

He sat up and stared at the ocean
with a sudden curious realization: all the faces that appeared to him belonged
to women. “Hmmm, that’s interesting.” Was this some kind of Freudian
subconscious thing brought about by his past two years of solitude and celibacy
following Marsha’s passing? Or was his brain just trying to tell him that he
might just get along better with women? There was no reason why a woman
couldn’t do the job just as well as a man. There were plenty of women in NASA’s
astronaut corps, many having flown shuttle missions, even commanding some.
There had even been a few in ISS crews. But an all-female crew? That could be a
little strange. Still, Jeff thought, if that’s what his gut was telling him, he
ought to at least give the matter serious consideration.

He decided against the conventional
recruitment routes – want ads, headhunters, industry rags – and instead thought
he’d do his own headhunting, go to the source and try to expedite the process.
Jeff wasn’t interested in “seasoned” professionals; they’d just bring a lot of
establishment baggage, and probably fight him every inch of the way. He wanted
younger folks, those that had the necessary knowledge but wanted to break
boundaries and push the edge of the envelope. Jeff thought of grad students,
doctoral candidates, medical residents, pilots fresh out of the service –
people on the cusp, just starting out or anew, willing to accept a big risk for
a big gain. He thought about it for a moment and jotted down three notes:
“Caltech,” “space medicine website,” and “charter business jets.”

Monday, May 28, 2012
(T minus 1394 days)

“Good morning, Dr. Vlohakis. Thank
you very much for taking the time to see me.”

Dr. Bernard Vlohakis was the
Theodore von Kármán Professor of Aeronautics and Mechanical Engineering at the
California Institute of Technology, better known as Caltech, and Chairman of
the Division of Engineering and Applied Science.

“My pleasure, Mr. Grey. Please,
have a seat. I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with your firm. What is your
particular involvement in the industry?”

Jeff grinned a bit sheepishly,
“We’re a very new startup that’s still flying well under the radar. Our
specific interest is in the application of existing, tested, and proven
technology for use in deep space travel. What we hope to do is develop
concrete, workable solutions for the many challenges of space travel without
the necessity of having to invent something. In other words, we hope to address
various space travel problems with solutions available today, not ten, twenty
or fifty years from now. Essentially, we’re looking to expedite the process
and, in so doing, reduce the cost. I want to apply what we know, not what we
don’t know.”

“That’s an interesting challenge.
Particularly since so much of the aerospace industry survives on research and
development, advancing the science in seeking new solutions. What can I do for
you Mr. Grey?”

“I’m looking for an engineer;
aeronautics, aerospace, applied mechanics, physics, etc. Someone young,
doctoral, post-doctoral, maybe a bit rebellious, understands the problems and
the mechanics but willing to think outside the box, is good with propulsion
systems, someone who likes a challenge, and someone who will be available very
soon.”

Dr. Vlohakis sat scratching his
chin for a moment. “Hmmm. We do have several students here that may well be the
type of individual you’re looking for. However, most in fact are already
employed, or at least committed. Ah, yes. There is one that prominently comes
to mind. She is a doctoral candidate in aeronautics and applied physics, and
will be graduating this term. She is certainly familiar with propulsion, though
her thesis involves some rather advanced plasma drive theory. Very bright, very
intelligent young lady, and subtlety is definitely not her strong suit. Gabriel
Frederick. You could check with the graduate secretary in Guggenheim, just
across the mall, to see if she’s on campus today, or leave a message for her.
As I said, there are probably others but…” pausing to chuckle, “I think Ms. Frederick
might be just who you’re looking for. You should speak to her first.”

#

“May I help you?”

As buildings go, Caltech’s
Guggenheim Laboratory was less than impressive. Still, Jeff figured one
shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Clearly some of the world’s finest minds
were wandering around here and he was out to find one.

“Yes,” handing the secretary his
business card, “I’m looking for a graduate student, Gabriel Frederick. Dr.
Vlohakis pointed me in her direction.”

“Just a moment, let me see if she’s
on campus today.” The secretary keyed a couple of strokes on her computer
keyboard, “Yes, she should be over in Firestone. Let me give her a call and see
if she’s available.” She picked up the phone and dialed, “Gabriel? Hi, Roberta,
there is a Mr. Jeffrey Grey of Grey Aerospace here to see you. Dr. Vlohakis
recommended you to him… No, I don’t know… Alright, I’ll send him over.”

Roberta hung up and turned back to
Jeff, “She’s in the Firestone Lab, just across the walk there, room 108,”
motioning toward a slightly more upscale structure.

“Thank you.” Jeff smiled
appreciatively at the secretary, picked up his briefcase, turned and walked out
the door. Where the Guggenheim Lab looked rather like a 1960’s vintage
apartment building, the Firestone Lab appeared more like a prison, with its
narrow multi-story vertically barred windows. But it looked newer. The
California Institute of Technology, one of the world’s highest institutes of
learning; Jeff half expected it to look like something out of
Star Wars
,
but it was really rather plain. He walked down the corridor, finding room 108,
knocked, opened the door a few inches and stuck his head in, “Gabriel
Frederick?”

The head of a young, blond-haired
women popped up from a cubicle divider, “Yes?”

Jeff opened the door and stepped
in. “Hi, Jeffrey Grey.”

“Oh, hi. Yes, please come in.” She
quickly walked around the cubicle with her hand extended toward Jeff. Her grip
was firm, for a young lady. Clearly, she wasn’t bashful. Very tall, around six
feet Jeff guessed, slender, flaxen hair in a ponytail that hung to her waist,
oval gold-rimmed glasses framing cerulean eyes, blue jeans, and a bright orange
sweatshirt with “CALTECH” emblazoned on the front. Jeff momentarily wondered if
perhaps he’d accidentally stumbled into the dance department. She sure didn’t
fit his mental image of a doctoral candidate in aeronautics and applied
physics.

“What can I do for you?”

“Well Ms. Frederick, you come
highly recommended by Dr. Vlohakis and I’d like to talk to you about a job.”

Her eyes widened, “Really? Wow.
Okay.” She motioned to a small round dining table in the corner, “Please pardon
our sparse décor, these are grad student offices and our budget is, um, well…
not.”

Jeff followed her to the table and
took a seat beside her.

“Would you care for some coffee?”

“Yes, that’d be great. Thank you.”

She hopped up rather lightly and
filled two styrene cups from a glass pot that looked like it hadn’t been washed
since the 1970s and returned to the table. “What kind of job, Mr. Grey?”

“Please, it’s Jeff. And may I call
you Gabriel?”

“Sure,” she smiled coyly, “but most
people call me Gabe.”

Jeff smiled, “Gabe. I like that.”
She had a husky alto voice and a pleasantly forthright demeanor. Jeff liked her
right away. “I own a company, a start-up aerospace firm, and I’m looking for a
chief engineer.”

“Dr.
Vlohakis recommended me for an aerospace engineering job?”

“Yeah.”

Gabe gave him a puzzled frown.
“That’s weird. Did he recommend anyone else?”

“Nope, just you. Why? What’s so weird
about it?”

“Um, well, he and I don’t get along
very well. It’s a, I dunno, a personality conflict thing.”

Jeff nodded. “It happens. Doesn’t
mean he doesn’t respect your talent.”

“Yeah, I suppose, but I’m… I’m not
an aerospace engineer. Yes, my degree is in aeronautics but I’m really a
physicist and mathematician.”

Jeff chuckled. “Close enough for
government work.”

“Government work?”

“Just a figure of speech.”

“Oh, okay. Also, I don’t have any
experience. I’m all academia. In fact, except for interning at JPL, I’ve never
had a job. Any job.”

“Well, you have to start
somewhere.”

“Yes, but honestly, I’m not even
looking for a job. I was hoping to come back here in the fall for a postdoc
research fellowship.”

“I see. Do you have something lined
up?”

Gabe shrugged and shook her head.
“No, not yet. But I’ve got some feelers out.”

Jeff nodded. “Okay Gabe, well,
we’re here, perhaps you’d like to just hear me out. Who knows? Maybe I’ll say
something that interests you.”

She smiled. “Alright.”

He took a sip of the coffee, it
tasted as though it had also been around since the ‘70s. “Okay, but first, can
you tell me just a little more about yourself?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. I’m 25, originally
from Dayton, Ohio. Went to college at Oberlin. Double degree program, music and
math.”

Jeff’s eyebrows went up. “Wow.
How’d that come about?”

“I started as a piano performance
major, but along the way decided a career in music wasn’t what I really
wanted.” She shook her head. “Life on the road, touring, hectic concert and
recording schedules, or… just teaching. I dunno, none of it appealed to me.”

“I can understand that. Still,
piano performance major at Oberlin? You must be pretty good. How long have you
been playing?”

“My mother started teaching me when
I was three.”

“Do you still play?”

“Yes, I just don’t practice very
much. No time.”

“I can imagine. Why math?”

“I’ve always been pretty good at
it, and it just interested me.”

“Music and math often do seem to
fit together.”

“Uh huh. I really wanted applied
math, but Oberlin doesn’t offer it. So I did a semester abroad in applied.”

“Really. Where?”

“Cambridge.”

Jeff stared at her in mild shock.
“You studied applied mathematics at Cambridge?”

“Uh huh.”

“Did you get to meet him?”

Gabe smiled. “Once, very briefly.
It’s ironic, he’s so small and frail yet a giant. He’s the Holy Grail of
applied math.”

“You have met Stephen Hawking?
Okay, I’m impressed, go on.”

“After Oberlin, I went to MIT for a
Ph.D. in Applied Physics but, um, it just didn’t work out very well. So I
dropped out of the doctoral program and settled for a masters in Nuclear
Science and Engineering, with an emphasis in applied plasma physics.”

Jeff grinned. “Now there’s a
mouthful. What went wrong? If you don’t mind my asking?”

“Um…” Gabe bit her lip and stared
at the table.

“More personality conflicts?”

She nodded, and after a moment
looked up at him. “I… I sometimes have trouble getting along with people.”

Jeff nodded and smiled. “Gabe, in
the rarified atmosphere of your intellectual caliber, I don’t think that
problem is particularly uncommon.”

She forced a tiny smile.

“Have you seen the film,
Real
Genius
?”

Gabe laughed. “I think it’s my
favorite movie. I love it.”

Jeff winked at her. “One of mine,
too. Smart People on Ice.”

She covered her mouth, laughing.
“That scene is hilarious.”

“Yeah. I think Jordan is my
favorite character. Talk about hyperactive.”

“Yeah, she’s great.”

Jeff couldn’t help but think there
was a lot more to Gabe than met the eye. Perhaps wound a little too tight, but
also much smarter than even the academic résumé suggested. “Don’t be too hard
on yourself, Gabe. Being smart is not the world’s easiest job. People expect a
lot more from you, and meeting those expectations takes a lot more than just
being smart.”

She smiled softly. “Thank you.”

“So, from Massachusetts you moved
on to sunny southern California?”

“Yes. I’ve been here for three
years. And if my thesis defense goes as planned, I’ll graduate in a few weeks
with a Ph.D. in aeronautics and a minor in applied physics.”

“Congratulations. Hell of an accomplishment.
Tell me about your thesis.”

“It’s a theoretical investigation
into the potential use of super-cooled magnets in magnetohydrodynamic plasma
jets and the tradeoffs between fuel consumption, thrust and power
requirements.”

Jeff smiled and nodded, congratulating
himself for comprehending what she just said. “Okay. So you have an interest in
propulsion systems for deep space exploration?”

“Well, they’re the next step to the
stars. They’re far more powerful than ion drives and much safer than nuclear electric.”

He nodded in understanding, “Uh
huh, but is your motivation theoretical or practical?”

She stared at him and raised her
eyebrows curiously, “Both, I think. We’re not going to be leaving for outer
space anytime soon, but it’d be nice if we had the means to get there at our
disposal when the time comes. And it will come.”

“No argument there. I presume you
also have a pretty good handle on chemical propulsion?”

She smiled, “Yeah, I know a bit
about it. Besides all the requisite book learning, I interned over at JPL doing
some work on the Mars Science Lab cruise stage.”

 “Ah, that could be useful.” Jeff
sat back and thought for minute. Why not? She was just the kind of partner he
envisioned. “Gabe, I have a great deal of money and a plan for how to spend it.
And in spite of your concerns, I think you’re just the kind of person I’m
looking for.”

Gabe brushed her bangs back while
tilting her head and staring at him quizzically. “Well, I’m flattered but… What
exactly is it your company does?”

Jeff tried the coffee again. A few
minutes of cooling had not helped. He leaned back in the chair and held his
breath; now came the awkward part. After a moment, he took a deep breath, bit
his lip, and answered her question. “Right now? Nothing. But it’s going to do great
things. Monumental things. Things that no one has ever done before. I am
financing a manned mission to Mars. The first cargo launch will go up in
eighteen months and crew launch is scheduled for March 2016, a little less than
four years from now.”

Gabriel sat silently, staring at
him, as though her brain was trying to digest a calculus expression with a few
missing symbols. Jeff gave her time to get a handle on it.

“You’re kidding,” she said,
sounding more hopeful than incredulous.

“No, I’m dead serious.”

She exhaled audibly through her
teeth and scratched her eyebrow, “Okay, well… look, NASA couldn’t land a man on
Mars in four years, even if they wanted to…”

Jeff, cut her off. “You’re
absolutely correct. No, they could not. But not because they don’t have the
technology, they do. Nor is it because they don’t have the manpower, they have
plenty. And it’s not because they don’t have the money, the U.S. government can
raise as much money as it wants. It’s none of that. They reason they can’t do
it is because they simply don’t have the will. Look, NASA is a giant government
bureaucracy whose primary mission is, like all government bureaucracies, job
security, nothing more. NASA doesn’t want to go to Mars, because it’s bosses,
Congress and the White House, don’t want to go to Mars because their boss, the
people, also don’t want to go to Mars. At least, not right now. The days of
Kennedy and ‘We choose to go to the moon in this decade’ are gone. Today
Americans want cheap healthcare and iPods and social safety nets. Fine,
democracy, we vote. That’s their decision. So if we are going to go to Mars –
and you know as well as I that we can, the technology exists, the commercial
aerospace industry is full of manpower, and I have a great deal of money, and
believe I can get more – it all boils down to assembling a team of people that
have the will to do it. Do that, and this can be done. Someone will do it. It’s
not a question of if, only when. And I intend on being the one to do it. And I
want you on my team.”