Margaritifer Basin (Margaritifer Trilogy Book 1) (88 page)

“AUTO.”

It was an almost imperceptible
bump, really just a tick, but Jeff felt it, and it wasn’t empty space.

“Atmosphere?” said Susan.

“Yeah.” Jeff didn’t want to be
scared, but he was. And from the tone of her voice, he knew she was too. Then
another tiny bump. Then several more. “Here we go,” he said with his best
artificially stoic inflection. A few more seconds and the capsule began to
shake a little. And then it began to shake a lot. They’d passed through the
exosphere, the upper reaches of Mars’ atmosphere, fairly quickly. There wasn’t
much there, just a few wisps where the last bits of atmospheric gas blended
into the void of space, undecided about favoring gravity or vacuum. Now came
the thermosphere, an unhappy place where high temperatures from solar heating
cause the atmospheric gases to disassociate and create a cobblestone road of
pressure pockets and random erratic thermals.

“EI plus 10 seconds,” said Gabe.
“4,575 meters per second, altitude 118 kilometers. 1.5 g’s.”

Jeff closed his eyes and leaned his
head as far forward as he could in the helmet. He didn’t know if there was a
God, but at that moment he suddenly hoped that if there was, it was a merciful
God. ‘Seven Minutes of Terror,’ that’s what they called it. That’s how long it
took to get from low orbit to the ground, seven minutes.

“EI plus 22 seconds, 4,384 meters
per second, altitude 109 kilometers. 2.6 g’s.”

He was certain it would be the
longest seven minutes ever… for anyone, any time, any place. Unless of course
it ended early, which would be worse. Four and a half kilometers per second,
9,950 miles per hour, headed into a place so inhospitable most people simply
could not imagine it.

“EI plus 37 seconds, 4,154 meters
per second, altitude 98 kilometers. 4.9 g’s. Oh god!”

But here he was, and there was no
going back. He opened his eyes briefly and glanced at the HUD. Hundreds of
hours of training for this moment and suddenly the numbers were just so much
gibberish. He reached down, searched around briefly until he found Gabe’s hand,
and tightly clasped it. “How are you doing?”

She whimpered. “I’m terrified.”

“Hang in there. How are
we
doing?”

“Um, EI plus 60 seconds, 3,820 meters per second,
altitude 82 kilometers, 8.0 g’s. I can’t breathe.”

“Hang on! Abby?”

“Dead center in the corridor. One
express elevator to Hell; goin’ down!”

Jeff wanted to laugh at Abby’s
Aliens
reference, but he couldn’t. As the lander bounced and jiggled like it was being
jostled down a rocky riverbed, nothing was funny. Still, her voice was
comforting, rather like she was issuing a traffic advisory. She was the most
skilled pilot and the iron backbone of the crew. Were she the only one of them
to survive, he figured she’d assemble the MAV alone and still make it home. He
wasn’t so certain about himself.

Gabe cried, “Oh god! EI plus 80
seconds, 3,521 meters per second, altitude 67 kilometers, 11.0 g’s. Peak heat!
Max pressure in five seconds.”

As the g-force continued to rise,
Jeff found it more and more difficult to breath. And in spite of his suit’s
cooling system, the cabin was getting awfully warm as the external temperature
of the ablative heat shield approached 3,600ºF. The HUD was now difficult to
read as his vision began to blur under the g-force. He thought it read 11.2
g’s, but wasn’t sure. They should reach peak dynamic pressure and 11.4 g’s
momentarily, but supersonic chute deployment was still three minutes away. It
was going to be a long three minutes. “Sue, how ya doin’?”

“Oh god! I think my boobs just
popped out my back.”

Abby chuckled. “What boobs?”

“Jeff, smack her for me!”

“Later, I can’t lift my arm!”

“One minute thirty seconds,”
screamed Gabe. “11.4 g’s! Max pressure! 53 kilometers, 3,228 meters per second,
2:52 to chute deployment!”

“Gabe!” yelled Susan. “You’re
hyperventilating. Stop it!”

Gabe gasped. “How can I be
hyperventilating? I can’t breathe.”

“You’re on pure oxygen, relax,
breathe normally.”

“I can’t!”

“We’re banking!” said Jeff.

“Deadbanding cross-range error,” said
Abby.

“Rog. How do we look?”

“Right down the pipe.”

“You sound awfully calm.”

“I’ve pulled 11 g’s before.” She
groaned. “Oh! But not for this long.”

Jeff did everything he could to
force his lungs to work. Exhaling was easy, inhaling was almost impossible. He
panted, short breaths. Gabe’s hand went limp. “Gabe?” There was no reply.
“Gabe!”

Susan squeaked, “She’s fainted.”

“Is she alright?”

“Yes, she’ll come around in a
minute.”

“She never passed out in the
centrifuge at 11 g’s.”

“We only got to that point
momentarily, and it was on Earth. I don’t think she was afraid of dying there.”

“We need her. Is there anything you
can do?”

“Strapped in here and encased in
Mark III suits? No.”

“Rog. Abby?”

“What?”

“Where are we?”

“I dunno. All I’m looking at is our
trajectory. Oh, crap. Hang on a minute… uh, yeah, um, two minutes forty,
leveling out. G’s are dropping fast: 8.1, 7.9, 7.7… 2,332 meters per second,
14.5 kilometers altitude, and we’re still in the corridor.”

Gabe groaned. “Oh… god. What
happened?”

“You fainted,” said Susan.

“Oh, my head hurts.”

“Just relax, breathe normally,
you’ll be fine.”

“I can’t see straight. How long was
I out?”

“About a minute. Just close your
eyes, relax, and breathe.”

“Okay. Where are we?”

“Three plus fifty,” said Abby.
“1,300 meters per second, about 10 kilometers altitude, in the corridor, but
maybe a couple klicks northwest.”

“Okay. At 1,100 meters per second,
transition to alignment phase.”

“Yeah, I got it. Transitioning.”

“Gabe, you okay?” said Jeff.

“Yeah, I think so. Sorry. Balance
mass jett in 25 seconds.”

“Rog. Don’t worry about it. We’re
doing fine.”

“Pyros, ARMED.”

“ARMED,” said Jeff.

“20 seconds. 35 seconds to chute
deployment. Based on position data from
Pathfinder
, looks like we’ll
touchdown about 020º 15 kilometers from the station. Abby, watch out for those
hills to the west.”

“Not much I can do about it now,
we’re pretty much ballistic.”

“Bank us up and delay balance mass
jett and chute deployment by two seconds.”

“You sure?” said Jeff.

“Yes.”

“Rog. Abby, do it.”

Abby grabbed the RCS joysticks.
“Pitching.”

“Five seconds,” said Gabe. “And…
jett.”

Jeff punched the jettison button
and the six entry balance masses on the wind side of the hull just above the
heat shield joint were explosively discharged, returning the craft to a fully
balanced state.

“Rog. I gave the computer a +2.
PROCEED.”

“PROCEED,” said Jeff.

“10 seconds.”

“Sure glad you didn’t decide to
sleep through this part.”

“Me too. 5 seconds… 3, 2, mach
2.05”

Jeff felt the jolt as the
mortar-deployed parachute was ejected. “Ouch.” As the chute opened, the craft
suddenly decelerated.

“Oh god!” cried Gabe.

Jeff groaned. “Yeah. That’s like
driving into a brick wall at 70 miles an hour. How much was that?”

“Nine g’s. 15 seconds to heatshield
jett. 300 meters per second, 9 kilometers. Anticipate touchdown 16 kilometers
north of the station.”

“Good job,” said Jeff. “Close
enough.”

“10 seconds… 5, and… heat shield
jett.”

The lander momentarily lurched
upwards as the 840-pound heat shield detached and fell away.

“We’ve got radar,” said Gabe. “145
meters per second horizontal, 6.9 kilometers altitude. 68 seconds to backshell
jett. MARDI activated.”

“You have an image?” said Jeff.

“Yes. I think we’ll be fine. North
of the ellipse center, but in the flat.”

“Excellent. You gonna tell
Amos
to pick us up at the airport?”

“Already on his way.”

“Rog.”

“15 seconds. 120 meters per second
horizontal, 2.5 kilometers altitude. 10 seconds… 5, and… backshell and chute
jett.”

The lander dropped suddenly then
stabilized as the eight engines of the descent stage throttled up.

“Powered descent,” said Gabe. “One
kilometer altitude, 84 meters per second vertical, 24 horizontal. 40 seconds to
touchdown.”

“Rog. How’s the ground look?”

“Looks good. Just what we saw from
all of the
Amos
and
Andy
imagery. 22 seconds to Sky Crane.”

“I wonder what everyone on Earth is
thinking right now?”

“They’re thinking we’re still in
space. What they’re seeing happened 9 minutes ago.”

“Oh, yeah, forgot about that.”

“8 seconds. 5, and… Sky Crane.
Descent stage is in hover at 35 meters and we’re descending.”

“By god, it worked!”

“Oh, thank god! 3 meters per second
descent, horizontal travel is static. 10 seconds to touchdown. One meter per
second vertical. 5 seconds. Here comes the ground!”

Thursday, October 6,
2016

MSD 50750.392 (Sol 0)

“Oof!” said Jeff as the lander
impacted on the Martian surface. “That was a little harder than I thought it
would be.”

“Bridle SEP and flyaway,” said
Gabe. The three umbilicals of the Sky Crane were separated from the lander by
an explosive cutter and the descent stage throttled up and flew off to crash
half a mile away.

Abby sighed aloud. “I think I’m
supposed to say touchdown, but, um, it seems redundant.”

Jeff laughed softly. “Uh huh. Okay,
we’re here. Everybody alive?”

“Yes,” said Susan.

Jeff waited a moment, but there was
no response from Gabe. “Gabriel, are you alive?”

She whimpered. “Yes. I think so.”

“Well, you think, therefore you
are.”

She sniffed. “Descartes could have
been wrong.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I suppose. But
for now, let’s take that one on faith. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Alright then. You have an ETA for
Amos
?”

“About fifteen minutes… traffic
permitting.”

“Okay. Well, that was the longest
seven minutes of my life.”

“Amen to that,” said Abby.

“What say we all sit back for a minute
and catch our breath. Did anybody note our touchdown time?”

“Yes,” said Gabe, “2:04:19 UTC.”

“Thanks.” After a moment he
chuckled.

“What?”

“Oh, I was just thinking… we’re on
Mars, and we’re alive. We made it.” He took Abby’s hand and reached down between
their couches to Gabe and Susan. They all held hands in silence for a minute.

Gabe squeezed his hand. “Oh my
god.”

“What?”

“Gravity.”

“Yeah.”

“Finally!” said Abby. “Now maybe
this puffiness in my face will go away and I can stop blowing my nose every five
minutes.”

Jeff chuckled. “Right. Well, shall
we open the door and have a look around?”

“By all means.”

“Okay. Pyros A and B armed and…”
Jeff heard a soft ‘bang’ as explosive bolts separated the upper crew
compartment aeroshell. “SEP.” He and Abby pushed up on the aeroshell, walked it
hand-over-hand to the forward end of the crew module, and tossed it on the
ground. Jeff raised his head and glanced around. “Oh my god.”

“What?” said Gabe.

“Well, Toto, we’re not in Kansas
anymore.”

“No kidding? Hurry up, I want to
see.”

“Uh, yeah. Just give me a minute,
I’ve waited a long time for this.”

Abby grabbed his hand. “Boss, go
put your footprints on Mars.”

He glanced at her and returned the
smile he saw through her helmet face shield. “Yeah, okay.” He slapped his harness
quick disconnect, switched on his helmet camera, gingerly stood in his couch,
looked around again, and laughed. “I don’t believe it! We made it! We’re here!
Earth, mankind has arrived on Mars!”

Abby joined his laughter.
“Womankind also.”

“Yeah, them too.” He turned around,
sat on the edge of the lower aeroshell, slowly spun around, and slipped off
onto the surface. “Whoa!”

“What?” said Abby.

“Um, in spite of our exercise
routine in transit, standing takes a bit of getting used to.” He carefully took
a few steps and stopped, taking in the view: burnt orange sky, dark grayish-red
sand, scattered rocks, an outcropping here and there, but otherwise nearly
featureless to the horizon in all directions. “Wow. Not much here. Looks a lot
like
Opportunity
’s images of the Meridiani Planum.”

“That’s why we picked it,” said
Gabe.

“Yeah. Abby, your beach, palm
trees, and five-star resort must be someplace else, cause they’re not here.”

Abby groaned. “Damn.”

“There’s a crater out there to the
west, maybe a hundred yards. Looks like it’s about twenty-five or thirty yards
in diameter. Old. Shallow. I’ll bet we came in right over it. It’ll probably
show up in the MARDI images. And looks like there are some dunes to the north,
maybe a couple kilometers.” Jeff knelt on one knee and scooped up a handful of
sand. “Sand looks pretty typical. Compresses easily, but footing’s good. Looks
like a mix of course dark grey grains and fine reddish powder, not as much
gravel as where
Curiosity
landed, though the descent stage blast pattern
looks similar.” He spread his gloved fingers and made a handprint in the sand.
“Makes for good, crisp imprints. Not as good as what the Apollo missions saw on
the moon, but a lot better than dry desert sand on Earth.” He stood and shook
his head. “God, this is incredible.” He turned around and looked down at his
footprints. “Well, there they are: human footprints on Mars. Hope you folks
back home are seeing this. Gabe, do we have comms with the
Pathfinder
orbiter?”