In what seemed like the blink of an eye it covered the remaining distance, and there was a bright flash as it hit the spacecraft. Broken glass and parts of the bot exploded outwards as the vast force of the cabin’s air pressure was released. Sample jars, equipment, and other loose objects flew out of the porthole. Tung-chi’s head and limbs were pulled towards the window by the rush of escaping air, but thankfully his seatbelt held him fast.
Cheers erupted on board the Explorer, and from Kinuko herself, as she watched the spectacular display from a distance. The debris was moving fast and dispersed quickly. Aleksandr gave her the go-ahead to proceed back to the Adventurous Fire. “That spacecraft more than lived up to her name,” they would remark later.
71
Kinuko flew back to the derelict ship. “I can see clearly now through the porthole, and he appears to be in one piece,” she said. “Here goes.”
She tied the SEV up to the handhold once again, made her way to the door, and pushed on it. “It's open!” she said, as it swung inwards. The crew cheered.
“Go ahead and enter,” Aleksandr said.
She was greeted by sample jars large and small, paper labels, pens, and a couple of locker doors that had burst from their hinges. She pushed through all the clutter to reach Tung-chi, and checked his suit's wrist data display. “He's alive!” she yelled. The others, 1,800 kilometers above, cheered wildly.
“I can't believe it!” Aleksandr said.
“Holy Christ! He survived the explosion!” Christopher exclaimed. “It's nothing short of a miracle!”
“Oh, my God!” Emile said. “So, it was worth the risk to go and rescue him.”
“He's unconscious, and his heart rate is eighty-eight beats per minute,” Kinuko said. “He must have lost some blood.”
“Let's get him back here as quickly as possible,” Aleksandr said.
Kinuko fumbled around for the seatbelt latch, batting floating debris out of the way so she could see. She found and released it. Tung-chi was easy to move in zero gravity. She backed out of the hatch, dragging him by one arm.
“Just thought of something,” Christopher said. “We don't have a back board, or any way of transporting someone with a possible spinal cord injury.”
“Crap, that is true,” Aleksandr said. He paused, then lowered his voice grimly: “Anyone with such an injury would not survive until we get back to Earth anyway. We don't have any way to treat them.”
“Let's hope he doesn't have one, then,” Alessia said.
Kinuko pulled him out of the hatch, being careful not to bump his head on the way out. She was thankful that he was not a heavy person, because he would be harder to move even though they were weightless. She slowly and awkwardly got them both back to the SEV, and got him in a sitting position on the rear seat. She fastened the lap belt.
“Tape his hands to the grips, and try to put tape around behind him to keep him upright,” Aleksandr instructed. “Then run tape from the hand grips around and behind his helmet, so his head doesn't fly back.” She did so. He looked like some kind of strange blue duct-taped mummy by the time she was done. Only afterwards did Kinuko realize that she would then have to get around him in order to change out the fuel pack for the return trip. This was accomplished eventually, and not without risk as she only had Tung-chi's limp body to hold onto as she accessed the fuel port behind him. Once she was back in the front seat, she unhooked the SEV from the dead ship. It had given up its precious cargo, and it was time to go home.
72
Twelve minutes after the IME emerged from Mars' radio shadow, Mission Control and the rest of humanity fell silent in amazement as the story of the daring rescue was told. All other news stories seemed to fall off the edge of the world, as the news channels carried nothing but the video highlights of Kinuko's mission of mercy thousands of kilometers from the mother ship.
The Chinese National Space Agency broke its silence, and thanked Japan and the other IDSA nations for their help. Japan, meanwhile, went wild when it was revealed that their most famous daughter was the heroine. 3D-printed action figures of Kinuko were being sold within minutes, and street parties and revelry, the like of which had not been seen in a hundred years, took over the usually-reserved nation. All worries had been forgotten. The rest of the world was not far behind in their celebration of the amazing triumph.
The IME eventually caught up with the Adventurous Fire, and some of the precious Martian surface samples were still there to be salvaged. The CNSA thought about claiming sole ownership of the samples, but decided, wisely, to make them available to all the participating nations' scientists. Tung-chi, once his head wound had been treated and he had been able to recuperate some, addressed the world – both to apologize for his country's actions, and to praise the rest of the crew for rescuing him.
73
Eighteen years later
Nikita, Emile, Aleksandr, Alessia, Kinuko, Martin and Christopher sat on the stage in the auditorium at the IDSA headquarters. They smiled at each other, as the seats filled with dignitaries from the scientific community.
“How's young Kantaro?” Christopher asked.
“He's doing great,” Kinuko replied.
“Yeah, he's a freshman in high school this year,” Martin said.
“Okay, let me rephrase: how's Kantaro at robotics?” Christopher asked. The others chuckled.
“Well, some of his Uncle Chris's talent rubbed off on him, that's for sure,” Martin answered. “He's coming up with some unbelievable stuff. Very tiny machines that do very clever things.”
“Good to know,” Christopher replied. “I’m not surprised he’s as smart as a whip, being your son. How long's it been for you two now? Sixteen years?”
“Yep,” Martin answered. He broke into a mischievous grin. “You get less time...” Kinuko interrupted him, and finished his punch line for him: “…for killing somebody!” She paused, in mock indignation. “See? This is what I have to put up with!” Christopher nearly collapsed from laughter. He had to wipe away a tear, and tried to compose himself again before the presentation started.
Presently, they were joined on the stage by other senior IDSA scientists. The world knew a big announcement was to be made, and they were watching. They had no idea how big it would be.
A much older, grayer, Fernand Alliaume took the podium. He cleared his throat and addressed the audience:
“Dear distinguished members of the scientific community, and humans everywhere: years of design, planning and research have led us to this moment. We are now ready to unveil the next generation of deep space technology. Firstly, our propulsion engineers, in eighteen nations, have collaborated over the last ten years, at the research site in the Nevada desert, to create this.” He motioned to the huge screen behind him, where a picture of a large device appeared. It was hexagonal in cross-section, and roughly four times as long as it was wide.
“This, ladies and gentlemen, is the massdriver. It is a nuclear-thermal propulsion unit, the like of which has never been seen before. It can output a sustained thrust of seventy kilonewtons, or seven tons, using only ammonia as a working fluid. Its efficiency will enable us to easily cover interplanetary distances, tens of times faster than has ever been achieved before.”
An awed hush settled over the audience. Cameras flashed from all angles. After a suitable pause, Alliaume continued:
“Of course, an engine is nothing without a ship. Along with the new IDSA partner nations: India, Brazil, Canada, Australia, and South Africa, we will now attempt the most significant deep space endeavor in the history of humankind. It gives me great pleasure to present that ship.”
The picture of the engine behind him disappeared, and was replaced by a picture of spaceship. Its design was unlike anything seen before. The audience gasped.
“This is the International Mars Explorer II. The total mass of this vehicle is 4,350 tons. As you can see, the rear consists of an array of six massdrivers. Forward of the engines is a large truss, inside w
hich is a living and working space for thirty crewmembers. Outside the truss is fixed an array of fourteen entry, descent, and landing vehicles. These will be used to land the crew, habitats, and all the food and equipment necessary for a four-year stay on the surface of Mars. Two years into that mission, a decision will be reached as to whether to make this a permanent colony.”
The audience erupted into a full five minutes of applause. The world at large was stunned and captivated by the thought of a permanent human presence on another planet. The IME crew smiled at each other, as firm friends at the opening of a new chapter in history. They wouldn’t be going on that mission. They would have an equally important job – training the next generation of astronauts, who would make the trip. As veteran space travelers, and the only other human beings to have been to Mars, they were uniquely qualified to do so. As revered, history-making explorers, nobody would have it any other way.
After the presentation had concluded, the friends mingled among many of the attendees over cocktails at a large reception event outside under marquees. They were always outgoing in their interactions with others, but strangely, they never moved too far from each other. It was as if an unseen and unbreakable familial bond held them together. Then, a familiar figure entered the throng.
“Lesley Jones!” Aleksandr exclaimed. “Wow… great to see you!”
The others greeted her in similar fashion. After the excited talk about the new mission had drawn to a natural conclusion, she wryly asked: “So, Aleksandr, are you ready to tell me who KR_IME was?”
Aleksandr was caught far more off-guard than he had been during any life-threatening emergency in space. The others watched him expectantly. He paused, and then broke into a sly grin. He simply said, “It was all of us.”
A Note from the Author
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