Margaritifer Basin (Margaritifer Trilogy Book 1) (86 page)

“Are you
bored?” said Susan.

He chuckled.
“Um, after seven months in space this isn’t quite as dramatic as it was when we
left Earth. I’m just looking forward to being done with this part and moving on
to the next part.”

“Landing?”

“Yeah…
that part.”

“Okay
Jeff,” said Gabe, “diagnostics are good.”

“Rog.
Fire off a status update to Newport; I’m on my way. I love it when things work
right.”

“You’re
not the only one.”

Emerging
from the CM tunnel, Jeff glanced at Abby. “Ready?”

“As soon
as you’re buckled up.”

“Roger
that.” He swung into his couch and strapped in. “Alright then, standby for MDS
sep.”

“Pyros A
and B armed,” said Gabe.

“Rog.
Alright Abby, nice and easy, and straight back. Let’s not be banging our lander
into that booster chassis.”

“I’ve got
it, relax. Okay, thrusting.”

“And, SEP.
Gabe?”

“Yeah,
they all fired. We’re free.”

“Excellent.
Abby, you have Delta-V?”

“Yeah.
0.3… 0.5… 0.7, I’m gonna stop here.”

“Looking
good. Gabe?”

“Twenty
feet and opening. Looks good. Pyro bus A and B OFF, circuit breakers open.
Abby, SM RCS propellant valves?”

“Eight
gray. Guess that wasn’t as much of a jolt as the S-II sep.”

“Didn’t
feel like it.”

“We’re
gonna backup to, what was it? 20 meters?” said Jeff.

“Yeah,”
said Gabe, “about that. You know, we really should have settled on either
English or metric a long time ago.”

“Why?
Can’t you think in both simultaneously?”

“Yes, but
you can’t.”

He
chuckled. “I don’t need to, I have you.”

“RCS?”
said Abby.

“Yeah,”
said Jeff, “you’ve got eight gray talk-backs.”

“Rog.”

“Manual
Attitude Pitch to Accel Command?” said Gabe.

Abby
nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”

“Alright
then. PROCEED and… you’re pitching?”

“Yep,
pitching.”

The ship
slowly began to rotate on its axis.

Abby
pointed to the upper display. “Gabe, can you give me the MDS docking camera up
here, so I can see where the hell we are?”

“Yeah,
here you go.”

“Thanks.”

Jeff
frowned. “Um, Delta-V is minus 0.1 on the EMS.”

Abby
shook her head. “That’s bullshit. Sucker’s lost its mind. What’s the GDC say?”

“Plus
0.7.”

“That’s
more like it.”

He shook
his head. “Gabe, why does it do that?”

“Oh god,
can’t you remember anything?”

“Yeah, I
can remember a lot. I just can’t remember everything. Refresh my memory.”

She
sighed. “The Entry Monitoring System is just a single accelerometer here in the
CM that works on one axis. We’re rotating, so it sees our motion as heading
back toward the MDS because we’re not the center of gravity. The BMAGs, Body
Mounted Attitude Gyros, are stabilized and sense a change in velocity in all
three axes, and the Gyro Display Couplers, GDC, translate that to absolute
attitude. But, they have a tendency to drift, which is why we have to realign
the GDC before any maneuver, which I did.”

“Okay, I
bow to the superior intellect.”

Gabe
chuckled. “As well you should.”

Abby
groaned. “You two want to shut up? I’ve got it.”

“You’re
just about there, you have to…”

“I’ve got
it, Gabe. Shut up.”

Jeff
reached out and put his hands on both their shoulders. “Everybody just simmer
down. Let’s get this done and move on.”

“Right
about… there. Gabe?”

“Um,
yeah, looks pretty good to me.”

“Are we
static?”

“Uh huh.”

“Gabe,
circuit breakers on the SPS helium valves open?” said Jeff.

“Yes,
four of them.”

“Pitch
and yaw circuit breakers open.”

“Open,
four of them.”

“Rog.
Firing that engine while it’s docked in the MDS would be… bad.”

“You
think? Abby, you ready?”

“Yeah. Go
ahead.”

“Alright.
MDS to DOCK.”

“DOCK.”

“Auto-dock
ENABLE.”

“Got it.”

“MDS
Alignment lasers to ON.”

“ON.
Jeff?”

He
glanced at the video image from the Mars Departure Stage docking camera. “Yeah,
I see all three.”

“Okay,
PROCEED.”

The RCS
fired and the ship slowly began to back toward the Mars Departure Stage. They
all stared at the image of the SPS nozzle on the aft end of the ship as it
approached the MDS fairing. Abby shook her head. “You’d think we could have
found a better way to do this.”

“We
tried,” said Jeff, “but just couldn’t come up with one. Too many moving parts.”

“Really.”

Jeff held
his breath as he watched the nine-foot-long seven-foot-diameter nozzle
extension slip into the MDS fairing that had previously contained the lander.
“Please don’t dent that thing.”

Abby
shook her head. “Don’t look at me, the computer’s driving.”

“Jeff,
breathe,” said Susan.

He let
out a deep sigh and inhaled. “Sorry.”

“Contact,”
said Gabe. “Docking lugs to ENGAGE.”

“ENGAGE,”
said Abby. “And… hard dock.”

“Excellent,”
said Jeff. “And that’s that, nothing to it. Just like the SIM.”

“Easy for
you to say,” said Abby. “All you did was kibitz.”

“Hey, I’m
the Mission Commander, kibitzing is my job.”

Gabe took
his hand. “And you are very good at it.”

“Thank
you.” He frowned. “I think.”

She
grinned.

“Okay,
Gabe, Abby, get us into orbital mode and fire off a status report to Newport.
They’re probably wondering why we never write.”

“Rog,”
said Abby, “working on it.”

“Gabe,
how long to apoapsis?”

“Eleven
hours, four minutes.”

“Roger
dodger.” He got out of his harness, flipped over and folded his couch. “Okay,
Sue, wake up, time to go to work.”

She let
out an audible yawn and laughed.

“Come on,
let’s get out of these suits and unpack the Mark IIIs.”

Abby
rubbed her cheeks. “Boy, am I looking forward to gravity.”

“Yeah,
you and me both. 50 hours and we’re on the ground.”

Jeff
pulled open the resupply storage module hatch. “Good grief. I’d forgotten how
tightly packed this thing was.”

Susan
peeked in and shook her head. “It’s like a tin of smoked oysters.”

“Yeah.
Okay, why don’t you go over to the corner there, and I’ll toss these suits to
you.”

“Alright.”

He pulled
out their Mark III suits and, one at a time, tossed them across the commons to
Susan, who then strapped them to the bulkhead.

She
groaned. “Oh, they’re cold.”

“Yeah,
well, this is a deep freeze. The heaters keep it at zero. Start opening them so
they can warm up, I’ll be back in a second.” He ducked into the storage module.

“What are
you getting?”

“You’ll
see.” He checked the manifest on the bulkhead and located what he was looking
for. “Sue, catch!” He tossed her a box.

“What’s
this?”

“Open
it.”

“Oh my
god! Lobster tails, Blue Point oysters, cocktail sauce, and… frozen apple
juice?”

Jeff
swung back out of the storage module and closed the hatch. “Close. Lobster
tails, Blue Point oysters, cocktail sauce, and… frozen wine.”

“Where
did this come from?”

He
frowned. “Um, Earth?”

She shook
her head. “This was not on the manifest.”

“Sure it
was, you just didn’t know it. I thought we’d have a nice supper tonight.
Besides, it gives us something to use the last of our real butter on.”

She held
up the bag of frozen wine. “I didn’t know you could freeze wine.”

“Sure.
Not the best way to store it, but it should be fine.”

“What
kind of wine?”

“2006
Chablis
Vaudésir
.”

“We’re
going to drink
Vaudésir
through straws.”

He
shrugged. “When in space…”

“Yes. And
how are we going to cook them?”

“The
lobster tails are already cooked. Barbecued, in fact. Just thaw ‘em and nuke
‘em.”

“What
about the oysters?”

“Don’t
need to cook them.”

“I
thought oysters that had been frozen were only good for cooking.”

Jeff
grinned. “Not if they were quick frozen in liquid nitrogen.”

She
laughed. “Probably not an option available in most home kitchens.”

“Nah,
probably not.”

Susan
looked at the packages, then smiled softly at Jeff. “The last supper?”

He
sighed. “Well, hopefully not.” He shrugged. “But it seemed like a good idea.”

She
nodded.

Tuesday, October 4, 2016
(T plus 196 days)

Jeff
watched the event timer. “3, 2, 1… shutdown.”

“Shutdown,”
said Abby.

“Gabe?”

“Just a
minute. Okay, um, 250 by 33,854 kilometers. Inclination, 14.35 degrees; right
ascension, 257 degrees; latitude of periapsis, minus 12.74 degrees;
eccentricity, 0.82168; orbital period, 1,480 minutes. Bang on.”

“Outstanding!
Alright, ladies, closeout checklists. Let’s get on it, then get something to
eat and some rest. In twenty-five hours we’re gonna put footprints on Mars, and
we’ve got a busy week ahead of us.”

Abby
drifted out of the truss. “Okay, CM’s closed out. Nothing left on but heat and
comms.”

“Airlock?”
said Jeff.

“Secured.”

“Okay.
Guess it’ll be a while before we’re back in there.”

“Yeah, a
while.”

“Where’s
Gabe?”

“Bathroom.”
She sniffed the air. “Sue, what are you cooking?”

“Dinner.”

“We’ve
been up here for seven months and dinner’s never smelled like that. What is
it?”

“I’m not
going to tell you.”

“Oh god.
Jeff and his surprises is bad enough, not you too.”

Susan
chuckled and went back to her cooking.

Gabe
popped out of the truss, sniffed, and gasped. “Oh my god, is somebody cooking
lobster?”

Abby
frowned at her.

“What?”

“Are you
part hound?”

Gabe gave
her a puzzled look. “No. I remember smells just I like remember everything
else.”

Abby
shook her head. “You know something?”

“What?”

“You’re
weird.”

Gabe
pulled up her sleeves, baring her sizable biceps. “Would you care to step
outside?”

“No, not
really.”

She
grinned. “Alright then.” She floated to the kitchen and peeked in the microwave.
“Oh my god, lobster tails?”

Susan
nodded. “Yes. Now, get out of my way.”

“Those
weren’t on the manifest.”

“I know.”
She pointed at Jeff. “Talk to him.”

Gabe
lurched around and looked at Jeff.

“What? If
you don’t want yours, we can toss it out the airlock.”

She
gasped. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Okay,
then get out of Sue’s way, and let her cook.”

“Uh,
yeah, okay.”

Fifteen
minutes later they settled down to a supper of Blue Point oysters on a half
shell, barbequed lobster tails, and potatoes with broccoli and cheddar cheese,
the first non-rehydrated food they had had in seven months.

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 O
₂
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?”