“Okay, thanks, Bill. There will be more coverage as it happens, and we confirm that the maneuver has been completed successfully.”
At ten o’clock in the morning, Aleksandr called everyone to the hub.
“This is it, ladies and gentlemen. We are about to turn around, and start slowing down on the approach to Mars. Nikita, if you would, please.”
Nikita darkened the display to the glass wall, so that they could see the entire solar system outside. He augmented it with a curved orange line around the Sun, showing their path if they carried on as they were, and a green line showing their path once the turnaround maneuver was completed. The two diverged – minimally at first, but then exponentially as they got further away. The orange line shot off towards the orbit of Jupiter and the outer Solar System. The green one curved back in towards the Sun. There, unmistakably, at its terminus, was Mars.
“Computer, initiate flight sequence maneuver NAV1500.”
The ship began to slowly rotate around them, but the stars, planets and Sun about them remained constant in their place. It was a strange sensation. After two minutes, the computer said: “Heading locked, accurate to one milliradian. On course to intercept Mars’ gravitational field in forty-five days.”
They cheered unanimously, and did flips in the center of the hub, bouncing from wall to wall. Collisions, bumps and laughter. A welcome break from work. A celebration of the milestone.
“This is Jill Bowers, reporting once again from the IDSA. We have confirmation that the Mars Explorer craft has completed its mid-flight maneuver, and is now on course to intercept Mars. All its engines and other systems are functioning well, and the astronauts are in good health. Commander Kozlov will give an address shortly.”
Aleksandr appeared on screen. “Hello, planet Earth! As you have heard, we are now slowing down in our orbit around the Sun, in order to meet up with our planetary neighbor, Mars. The ship can decelerate faster than it accelerated, because we have less mass on board now. No, we did not throw anybody overboard. At least not yet! It is because we have used nearly a quarter of the xenon gas that powers our flight. Therefore we are lighter now, so our engines can move us more quickly.”
* * *
@KR_IME: FROM THIS VANTAGE POINT, IT IS APPARENT THAT THE SUN IS THE REAL CAUSE OF GLOBAL WARMING. ERGO, ALL ECO-HIPPIES CAN NOW GO HOME AND GET A REAL JOB. AND, FOR GOD’S SAKE, FIX THAT HAIR!
* * *
“I propose a movie night,” Christopher said, later that evening. “I would lay odds that not one person here has seen Ferris Bueller's Day Off.”
“Ferris Bueller's what?” Nikita asked.
“Exactly,” Christopher replied. “So, if nobody has a better idea, I'm proposing we watch this, admittedly very old, movie. It's funny, though. I've got a whole load of old cult movies we can watch. By the way, why did nobody bother to install a microwave oven on this thing? Then we could have had microwave popcorn.”
So, they watched Ferris Bueller's Day Off, laughing, while wondering how on earth people managed without being constantly wired with connectivity to everyone else. Kinuko didn't understand all the humor, and was promptly accused of having German DNA that stopped her from finding things funny.
38
T-plus 52 days
“This is ENN live from Johannesburg, where the city erupted in violence overnight. We are hovering over the outskirts of the city now, and as you can see fires are burning everywhere. The air is thick with smoke. There are at least 100 dead that we know of, but that figure is likely to climb much, much, higher as they day goes on. Riot police are out in force, and even the army has been called in to quell the rioting and looting that is taking place as we speak.
“A terrorist group known as the Workers' Front says it is targeting all businesses that use more than forty percent robotic labor, as well as the stores that buy from them. They are a highly-coordinated underground group. A leader, believed to be somewhere in America, has threatened that one city will be attacked each week, until governments impose a tax on robotic labor that will allow humans to compete in the workforce. As you know, robots are everywhere now, from the manufacturing floor to retail to restaurants, including both kitchen and wait staff, and this has taken out a huge swath of lower-end jobs.
“Unlike the terrorist actions of religious extremists, this shadowy organization has a lot of popular support, which will make tracking it down that much more difficult. Its leader, a self-styled modern-day Lech Wałęsa...”
The news captivated them, as they watched in the hub, over breakfast.
“My brother lives in Johannesburg,” Emile said, somewhat alarmed. “They have many gated high-security developments outside the city, though, and he lives in one of those, so hopefully he will be okay. I must go and send him a message. I'll be back.” He floated off up the central tunnel, towards his cabin.
“I sure hope they get this under control. This is unreal. It could lead to civil war,” Christopher said.
“Yeah,” the others agreed, shaking their heads in disbelief at the scene unfolding before them.
Half an hour later, Emile got a notification that he had a new message. He popped back to his cabin to view it. A few minutes later, he was back, with a relieved look on his face. “It turns out they are not in South Africa at all. They are in France, to be with my father. The bad news, though, is that he is not doing well.” At this, his eyes looked down, and he visibly teared up.
“We are so sorry, Emile,” Alessia said. “Group hug?”
They all crowded around Emile in a silent, almost weightless, embrace. Emile began to cry softly.
Alessia prayed: “Blessed Virgin, mother of our Lord, please bless Emile and his family at this time. I pray that his father may be made well and, that his pride in his son's accomplishments in traveling through the heavens that You made, would be a comfort to him.” She then went on to recite the Lord’s Prayer. Everyone present, regardless of their faith, said “Amen.”
After they had time to regain their composure, Christopher said: “Okay, I think it's time for dodgeball. I brought a volleyball along for this exact purpose. About the only place big enough for it is the hub. Who's in?”
They all played, energetically smacking the ball across the large space at each other, dodging and moving in all three dimensions. They bounced the ball and themselves off every conceivable surface, including the central truss, laughing and playing. Some leftover pouches of breakfast foods and a stray clipboard went flying, too. Laughter was indeed the best medicine.
39
T-plus 55 days
Christopher relaxed in his hammock. The curved main wall of his small cabin was his computer display, and it was showing Earth slipping by below as it would if he were in orbit around it. Stark coastlines delineated dark blue oceans from brown and green continents. He could recognize some geography. At this resolution, it was indistinguishable from the real thing. He kidded himself that he was still in low Earth orbit, and only a day's ride away from home should the need arise.
His thoughts drifted back over the years. The Corvette’s engine raced at top speed, just short of the redline, its pitch never wavering. The median, the lane markers, and other vehicles flashed by. He and Greg were tearing up Interstate 5, on his way back to his second semester at Oregon State University. Greg's focus was total, and his foot was flat to the boards. At this speed one wrong move was fatal. The old 'Vette split the air, and held the highway flat to the ground.
There was a forty-mile section where the builders of the median wall had apparently not gotten the memo about the police needing places to park to catch speeders. This section was as reviled by law enforcement as it was loved by motorists, and they were taking full advantage of it now. Late at night, the highway was mostly empty. Christopher was recording the speedometer reading on his phone for later bragging rights.
Those were the days. They were just two kids. The future, the real future beyond the next semester, hadn’t yet crossed their minds.
Nor should it have – youth was a special time in a person’s life, where the feeling of near-immortality, and living in the moment, met with reckless abandon.
Greg had a girlfriend at the time; Christopher did not. There was the time they made a home-made bomb by tossing a small propane cylinder, of the type used to power a barbecue, on a specially-built fire. They ran away expecting an explosion with shrapnel, but were disappointed when the safety release valve let the gas out in a huge jet rather than an explosion. Highly entertaining, but not what they had hoped for. Probably just as well.
His mind flashed forward to now. How times had changed. Greg had married his girlfriend, and they now had two kids – a boy and a girl – and lived in the suburbs. He had obtained a degree in forensic science, and was now doing some CSI-type job. He still lived in Medford. Meanwhile he, Christopher, was flashing through deep space at the equivalent of Mach 141.
Presently, the computer said: “Incoming video call.”
“Accept.”
The screen changed to show the scene inside an elementary school auditorium. A play was about to start. Greg's older kid, Brandon, was in one of the lead roles. Quiet descended on the room.
The teacher directing the play announced: “As you all know, we have a very special guest tonight. This performance is being streamed out to the International Mars Explorer, far away in space, where Medford’s most famous son, astronaut Christopher Fay, is watching.” The crowd cheered. A boy held up a model of the IME in view of the camera, complete with glowing engines.
“Alright, quiet down everybody. Let us begin.”
The lights dimmed and the spotlights shone on the stage, where Dorothy appeared on the set of the farm in Kansas.
“She isn't coming yet, Toto. Did she hurt you? She tried to, didn't she? Come on – we'll go to Uncle Henry and Aunty Em. Come on, Toto.”
He smiled at the cuteness of it all. Brandon wouldn't appear yet – he was the Tin Man. He had been Uncle Chris to Brandon since he was born. Christopher sometimes wished he had kids of his own, but he had been in no hurry and it was out of the question after being accepted to the astronaut pool. One day, he thought. There was no shortage of eligible women for an astronaut.
* * *
Interactions with the Cosmos – The Blog of the International Mars Explorer
We're past the halfway point now. The deceleration is much quicker than the acceleration, since we have less mass now. It's not enough that you can notice it, but it is definitely affecting our change in velocity and hence our time to arrival.
Our distance from the Sun has increased by 20 million kilometers - far less than our distance from Earth – 133 million kilometers – but the Sun is noticeably smaller and its heat less harsh now.
40 days to go, and we will be not just in Martian orbit, but parked next to Phobos! It is exciting, and will be an historic moment for all the people of Earth.
-Kan Tung-chi
40
T-plus 56 days
The telephone rang in the office of the President of the People’s Republic of China, Jian Hua. This wasn’t any old phone call – it was the kind that gets put through immediately. It was Russian premier Stas Valentin.
“Greetings, President Jian.”
“Greetings, President Valentin.” He had a bad feeling about this. “How are Lana and the children?”
“Let me get to the point, President Jian. Russia has learned of China’s aspirations in space. Russia implores China not to go through with it.”
“China has no aspirations beyond the common goals of the International Mars Explorer.” He was trying to buy time and learn how much Valentin knew.
“That is not what our connections are telling us. They are telling us that China has, shall we say, other ideas. You know of what I speak.” The other end of the line went quiet.
“Russia cannot condone and will have no part of what you are planning, President. You will ruin any goodwill that is left between our countries, and China’s standing in the international community will be lost,” Valentin said.
“President, China has the right to pursue her own goals independent of any other country,” Jian replied.
“Yes, she does, but any consequence is a risk she brings on herself. I bid you good day, President.”
The line went dead. Jian, now shocked, put the phone down. How could Valentin know? How much did he know? Where was the leak? Would they be blocked from going through with the plan? Only time would tell. However, one thing was certain: the leak would be traced, and those responsible would simply disappear.
41
T-plus 57 days
* * *
@KR_IME: IS THERE INTELLIGENT LIFE ON EARTH? OF COURSE NOT; IT’S ALL UP HERE!
* * *
These words rang out across Earth like the peal of morning church bells, heralding a new day of rudeness and impropriety from deep space. By now, KR_IME was being followed at least as closely as the official mission blog and the TV coverage of the mission. It was the stuff of late-night TV hosts, besides providing an instant laugh to those who followed the posts on their mobile devices. Still nobody knew who KR_IME was, although many had worked out long ago that the last three letters being IME was no coincidence.
Mission Control was so shocked by the latest post that it was decided a clandestine attempt to trace the mysterious poster should be conducted after all.
42
T-plus 60 days
It was 1:30 AM. All the crew were asleep.
In Aleksandr’s cabin, a pinging noise began, and his screen showed the words: LEVEL 5 PROXIMITY ALARM. Aleksandr slept on. A few minutes later, it changed to LEVEL 4 and the pinging got louder. Now he awoke, and tried to make his eyes focus on the screen. An object, roughly 100 meters across, had been detected by radar, and was going to come pretty close to them (by space standards). The screen showed a radar image of an irregular, potato-shaped, asteroid spinning slowly. It would pass within 2,500 kilometers of them.
He got on the intercom to Martin and Nikita. The first, because he was Chief Scientific Officer and there might be some useful observations to be made. The second, because he was Navigator, and he always had to be involved when there was even the remotest possibility of having to make a course change. “Guys, meet me in the hub. It seems we have a visitor.”
The sleepy trio met up in the hub. Aleksandr brought up the display of the object.
“It’s about 600,000 kilometers away right now, but it’s moving fast – around forty kilometers a second. Its orbit is perpendicular to ours. As you can see from the projections, it’s ahead of us right now, but we’ll cross its track just before it gets here. Closest approach is about 2,500 kilometers. Let’s get some observations on it, Martin.”
Martin pulled up the remote sensing suite. The telescope showed it clearly. It was made of a dark brown material. He said, “It doesn’t have a coma or a tail, so it’s not technically a comet. Looking at its orbit, it’s not a stray object from the asteroid belt. It must be a free-flying space rock that came into the solar system from somewhere else. It’s obviously got a solid surface, since there are small impact craters on it. Let’s lase it and get spectral data for it.”
He focused the instruments on it, and commanded them to record all that they detected. For several minutes the crew watched the screen, and the spectral charts changing as the instruments probed different regions of the tumbling object’s surface. A LIDAR mapped its contours. A faint box around its telescope image, overlaid by the computer, showed its designated radar target name: 1A.
“Computer, show solar-system scale orbital projections for target 1A,” Martin said. Another display opened up showing the orbits of all the planets around the Sun, with lines representing their trajectories and that of the mysterious space rock. There were now three displays open, covering nearly half of the interior of the hub. The rock’s path swung inwards towards the Sun, then bent significantly at its closest approach to the Sun (which would be less than 100 mill
ion kilometers) and went back out again towards the outer planets. It wouldn’t pass too close to any of the giant planets, so they had little effect on its orbit. In nineteen years, it would exit the Solar System again, bound for the reaches of deep space.
“Don’t you just love gravity?” said Martin, enthralled. “Everything is falling, all the time. It’s like we, and everything else, are in some kind of cosmic ballet. It’s only with the advent of VASIMR that we’ve even been able to come close to matching the speeds of comets. I say we get some interstellar probes going soon. Maybe our great-grandkids will be the ones seeing the data come back from them.” He paused for a while, watching the rock continue its tumble through space.
“You know what?” he continued, “I think we should hit it with an impactor. Blast a chunk off its surface, and see what it’s made of deeper down. What do you think?”
“Is it safe?” Aleksandr asked. “It’s going to pass very close to us. I don’t want to break chunks off it that could cross our path.”
“Well, we could wait until it’s about to pass us, and then any debris field that expands out from it won’t have a chance to hit us. Oh, wait… when it’s that close, its angular velocity is going to be too high for the instruments to keep up with it. The mounts are made for precision, not fast tracking. They can only do about half a degree a second, max.”
“Hmm, so we would still have to hit it when it’s further out. Do you think it’s a solid rock?”
KR_IME Page 10
