“Channel open,” came the reply. A videoconferencing window opened.
“We are on board, and ready to begin attitude control systems checkout.”
“Roger that, IME. ISS, release the clamps.”
The clamps that had held the ship fast to the station while under construction were released.
“Computer, display glass wall,” Martin said. The screen that was the entire inside of the room darkened to show a crystal-clear view of space, at retinal resolution. The contrast and clarity made it almost indistinguishable from the real thing. It was as if they were floating in space, with the only exception being the ship status window.
“Nikita, as Navigator, you get the honors,” Aleksandr said.
“Computer, activate direct piloting mode,” Nikita said.
“Direct piloting mode activated.”
“Computer, up ten meters at twenty centimeters per second.”
“Up ten meters at twenty centimeters per second,” it replied in confirmation.
A short pulse from the translation control thrusters moved the huge ship slowly upwards from its berth. Inside the command module, the floor came up to meet them. Looking down, the top of the space station receded. Another pulse from the opposite thrusters brought them to a stop exactly ten meters from where they started. The blue and white swirls of Earth moved swiftly by below, with the station in the foreground.
“So, those thrusters work at least,” Aleksandr joked.
“Computer, up 1,000 meters at one meter per second,” Nikita said.
The command was confirmed and, with a burst from the thrusters, they began to rise as smoothly as an elevator – the most complex, expensive elevator ever built. The station receded below.
At the end of their sixteen-and-a-half minute cruise, they came to a halt. Rather, the ship came to a halt, but the crew didn’t. They drifted to the ceiling on their momentum, chuckling. Now they felt truly separate from the space station, as though they were its offspring who had learned to walk. They pushed off the ceiling and back to the floor.
“That thing’s got some real capability!” Mission Control said, over the still-open videoconference.
“Yes. Yes, she does. She’s a beautiful ship,” Martin answered. “We’re in a real spaceship. She’s fully fueled and ready to go. We’ve got everything we need on board. We can go anywhere we want! Mars, Venus, Jupiter, anywhere. Just point her in the right direction and light her up!” Laughter from Earth and from those watching from the space station.
“So, what about some more complex maneuvers?” Aleksandr asked, with his pilot instincts just itching to do some real flying.
“Coming right up,” Nikita said. “Computer, pitch forward 360 degrees in three minutes.” It confirmed the command. This meant, of course, that the ship would do a complete nose-down rotation, and stop back where she started. It was a strange sensation for the three astronauts. The room spun around them, as they floated roughly in its center. The view of space around them remained unchanged. Only those items that were fixed to the walls moved, like the ship status display, the videoconference window and the truss segment in the center.
“Pitch rotation complete,” Nikita reported as they came to rest.
The sun set quickly, as they crossed over to the night side of the Earth. All went dark, apart from the stars and the Moon.
“Computer, augment display with radar and IR.” The space station instantly appeared again as a wireframe, filled with various hues of orange and blue representing the hot and cold zones on it.
Over the next two days, many more maneuvers and navigational trials were carried out successfully. They ate and slept on board for the first time. During a meal break, Martin asked: “So, Aleksandr, how did you get here? I mean, what drew you to the space program?”
“I never set out to be a cosmonaut in the beginning,” he replied. “I was a major in the Air Force. I was flying my Su-70 on a routine training flight in the Urals one day, and we were practicing maneuvers to avoid the American ISTM air-to-air weapon.”
“Is that the missile that breaks up into a swarm of tiny ones that chase down their target as a team?” Martin asked.
“Yes. It was almost impossible to outmaneuver them. I had – how do you say it? An epiphany? I realized right there that manned fighter aircraft are almost a thing of the past.”
The others nodded.
“I wasn’t done flying, or leading, though. So, I applied to Roscosmos to join the cosmonaut corps. The timing couldn’t have been better – the IME mission was announced just after I was accepted, and there was no way I was saying no to a chance like this!”
Their final act was to maneuver under the space station and dock with it. Once the hatch was opened, they floated through.
“Out one hatch and in the other!” joked the Commander, shaking their hands as they rejoined the station crew. The next time they boarded the IME, they would be heading for Mars.
11
T-minus 14 days
The combination of the ISS and the IME docked together was a skywatcher’s dream. It was over 2,000 tons in all – the largest manmade object in space – and appeared as an extremely bright star moving from west to east at the right times of the morning and evening. Nobody on Earth, however remote, could look up and fail to know that something was afoot in the heavens.
Meanwhile, the excitement had built to a fever pitch. Never before had there been one story that everyone, in all countries, had followed so closely. Coverage, which had been strong ever since the mission was announced, was now continuous in all media. The public couldn’t get enough of the astronauts who would soon be leaving Earth for another destination in the Solar System. Everything about them and their lives was under the microscope. All sports stars, pop musicians, film stars and royalty faded into the background.
The astronauts had been kept relatively protected from the media as they traveled across the globe and trained in various countries. Now, however, they were presented to the world for the last time before they would leave Earth. The auditorium in Lyon only held five thousand people; they needed somewhere that would hold five million. Eventually, Cape Canaveral was chosen. A giant outdoor venue was created, with a temporary stage, fences, and crowd facilities. New roads were built. Thousands of temporary workers were hired. And the crowds came, just as predicted.
People made the pilgrimage from every country on Earth. There wasn’t an ethnicity that was not represented. It meant something to them. It was the largest, most daring voyage ever attempted by Man.
There were speeches by the President of the United States, and presidents of all the participating space agencies. These were followed by specially-written musical performances. Finally, the astronauts themselves took the stage.
They were dressed in their flight uniforms. They were the Eight. The resplendent, chosen ones. Heroes, especially to those in their own countries, but also to the whole world. The applause was deafening.
When it finally subsided, they each gave a speech of about five minutes. They all had speech writers available to them, but chose not to use them. Each of them gave a very different take on what the trip meant to them. Common among all of them was a desire that this mission be for all humanity, and that the scientific discoveries they made would benefit all future generations. They honored their families and loved ones.
When the speeches were over, they left the stage, smiling and waving. The applause was rapturous, and lasted a full five minutes. It was late in the afternoon, and musicians now took the stage again. The party continued well into the night. It was the biggest single outdoor event in history.
Meanwhile, the astronauts were whisked away in a van. They would now spend the next two weeks in quarantine – any crewmember who fell ill at this stage would not be able to fly.
12
T-minus 4 days
It was late in the evening. The crew was sequestered in their quarters at Kennedy Space Center, having completed the last day of
their training. They had only had contact with a small group of crew specialists and technicians since entering quarantine.
Alessia and Kinuko were getting ready for bed in the women’s dorm. Alessia sat at the small table in the kitchenette, drinking a glass of water and reading. Kinuko pottered around, brushing her teeth and getting her uniform ready for the morning.
“What do you really think about all this?” Alessia asked, setting her book down.
“You mean the mission?”
“Yes. I mean, it’s like there’s the face we present to the world. Our carefully manicured media image. And then there’s us. I sometimes feel like I’ve lost who I really am in all of this. We’ve trained so hard, and thought about nothing else for years. The world sees Alessia Abbado, astronaut and hero. But, inside, I’m still really just that kid from Naples. I’d love to have some stereotypical Italian story for the world to savor, but I don’t. My parents never owned a pizzeria. My mother never baked. We never had a vineyard. Naples is a pretty rough place. In fact, I was almost in a gang once.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Some street kids that lived near us. I sort of made friends with the wrong crowd. They just seemed so cool. They were smoking and hanging out while I was still playing with dolls. They offered to protect my brother and me on the block.” She flicked her hair out of her eyes. She looked glamorous even in a bathrobe, Kinuko thought. A cigarette between her fingers would have completed the image.
“I didn’t do it, though,” she continued. “My parents would never have forgiven me. E’ fondamento di ogni virtù l’affetto verso i genitori – loving one’s parents is the greatest virtue.”
Kinuko nodded; she understood this well. Family was everything, though she wondered if it was sometimes based more on conformity than love.
“Ever had a boyfriend?” Alessia asked.
Kinuko laughed. “Not really. I never had time, with school and everything. Besides, when I left home, I couldn’t wait to get away from men.” They both smiled knowingly. “I was consumed with my studies,” she continued. “I had to know what is inside of a star, what makes it tick. Is there life out there, in the universe? Why is the Earth right in the middle of the habitable zone? Why do we have an oxygen atmosphere? Where did all this life come from? There are plenty of people studying the Earth, but I think if we can get answers to the questions out there, we can answer the questions down here.” She was as animated as Alessia had ever seen her by this point – which really wasn’t saying much. That’s what makes her tick, she thought to herself.
“Okay, so you’re Kinuko the scholar. One of the best planetary scientists out there. What I want to know is, who is Kinuko the person?”
Kinuko chuckled.
“What’s the first thing that comes to your mind?” she pressed.
“Playing the bagpipes!” Kinuko answered. They both fell about in fits of laughter. When Alessia could finally breathe again, she asked “Why the bagpipes?”
“I saw that ancient movie, Braveheart. I wanted to be like them. I started reading about all the history of wars and clans in Scotland and England. I always wanted to go there, but never did.”
“Well, you can go when you get back. We’ll all deserve a vacation when all this is over. We’ll go together. Just you and me – the girls from Mars. Try and disguise ourselves, though.” The fits of laughter continued.
“Yeah,” Kinuko replied, wiping away a tear. “I might have to have plastic surgery when we get back, just so I can walk down a street.”
“Do you feel like you’re ready to do this?” Alessia asked.
“Yes. It will be uncomfortable and lonely at times, but then isn’t all exploration? Christopher Columbus and Magellan never had a cruise ship to take them places, and they could have died at any time. We just have to take a step of faith, you know? The Apollo crews just had to have complete faith that hundreds of thousands of people had done their jobs exactly right.”
“Yeah,” Alessia replied. “If we let fear or worry get to us, we’ll be internally paralyzed, and actually in more danger because we won’t be able to think clearly. The meditation techniques they taught us will help. But, you know what? I’ve just come to accept it,” she said. Kinuko noticed that she unconsciously touched the crucifix around her neck. “None of us really know what’s coming down the road and, if I die on this mission, I’ll go out with a bigger blaze of glory than practically anyone who’s ever lived.”
They chuckled. “Sleep well,” she said. “We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”
“You too. Goodnight.”
They settled in for their last night on Earth.
13
T-minus 6 hours
All Earth had watched as the two shuttle craft had left Cape Canaveral, at T-minus three days and T-minus two days, respectively, lifting the astronauts from Earth for the last time. They boarded the International Space Station, and prepared for the mission. It was now almost zero hour.
They floated through the docking hatch into the International Mars Explorer. They had been here dozens of times in person, and thousands of times in their minds. Now they were here to stay, for over two years. It was a surreal feeling for all of them.
They took their bags, containing their twenty kilograms of personal mass allowance, and headed to their cabins. The cabins were very simply furnished with a hammock, stowage nets, and two small lockers. They were wedge-shaped, with a door where the small end of the wedge would be. The large end of the wedge was the inner wall of the living module, and hence was curved. This entire wall was a computer for the occupant’s use. It was connected to the ship’s network, so it could display information but not control any shipboard systems.
They spent a while making themselves at home. Technicians checked and re-checked systems. On an old-style rocket mission from Earth’s surface, they would have been getting suited up about now, and making the famous bus journey of five miles out to the launch pad. Then, pad technicians would help them clamber through the hatch in their bulky pressure suits and get them strapped in. This was a time-honored tradition for the men and women with the “right stuff,” but there was no such ritual here. No spacesuits, no high-G blast offs. Only floating from one spacecraft to another, and bedding down in its spacious interior. It was more like boarding a jetliner, or a cruise ship.
14
T-minus 75 minutes
The docking hatch between the IME and the space station had been closed.
“Mission control, go to undock?” Aleksandr said over the open comms channel.
“You are go to undock,” came the reply.
“ISS, confirm ready to undock?”
“Go ahead, IME. Godspeed.”
“Computer: activate direct piloting mode,” Aleksandr instructed.
“Direct piloting mode activated.”
“Undock and separate at ten centimeters per second.”
No clunk was heard, as the undocking mechanism was so far from the command module, but the ship began to back slowly away from the ISS as instructed. At fifty meters, Aleksandr commanded: “down one kilometer and left two kilometers at ten meters per second.” The ship picked up speed, moving as instructed, but not changing its orientation with respect to the station.
By now, the crew had all gathered in the command module, craning their heads into the dome windows to watch as the ISS receded. The beautiful blue Earth raced by below. The ISS crew was also jammed up against all available windows watching the IME, with its load of friends and fellow spacefarers, back away. It was a bittersweet moment for all.
T-minus 15 minutes
“Hands up if you want the glass wall,” Aleksandr said. Eight hands were immediately raised, though in completely different directions as they flipped and bounced off the walls.
“Computer: display glass wall.” The walls seemed to melt away, and they felt like they were truly floating in space, in some kind of transparent bubble. They were on the night side of Earth. The sun was just be
ginning to rise. A minute later, they were bathed in its full glare. This timing was intentional, so that they would be in daylight when the main engines started.
“Everyone doing okay?” Alessia asked. As the flight surgeon, the crew’s medical and mental well-being were her responsibility. “Yes, ma’am,” replied Martin, amid a chorus of nods.
“Mission control, confirm attitude for TMI?” Aleksandr asked.
“Attitude correct to one milliradian. Confirm power output?”
Christopher took over communications as the ship’s engineer. “Current output is 482.12 megawatts.”
“Life support?”
“Nominal.”
“Navigation?”
“Nominal.”
“Ullage?” This referred to getting the liquefied xenon gas to the back of the tanks, in order to be fed to the engines, as it could be floating anywhere in the weightless environment.
“We’ll fire the forward ACS thrusters at T-minus thirty seconds to move it back,” Aleksandr said.
“Very good, Mars Explorer. Speaking of which, you’re at that point now.”
“Computer: forward thrust at ten centimeters per second per second for ten seconds.”
The ship moved forward gently. In the time-honored tradition, there would be a countdown of the last seconds.
“Ten… nine… eight…” People around the world counted down in a thousand different languages. “Seven… six…” The magnetic fields formed a bottle shape in each of the nozzles. “Five… four… three…” The xenon started to flow in, and the radio frequency heaters fired up. “Two… one… zero.”
The gas heated to the point of becoming plasma, and was ejected from the nozzles at unimaginable speed. The display in front of Christopher, showing the engines in their hexagonal array, lit up as they came online.
“Engine start is confirmed. 390 all performing well,” Christopher said.
At first, very little happened aboard the ship. Then, the crew noticed they had begun to drift slowly with respect to the fixed items in the cabin, such as the central truss. They looked at each other, and grinned. Fifteen seconds later, they made very gentle contact with the floor.
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