Ice Moon 1 The Enceladus Mission

by Brandon Q Morris

  “Clever idea,” Martin remarked.

  “Unfortunately, the system is truly autonomous. Watson does not have access to it.”

  “And how can we change that?” Francesca asked, sounding as if she already knew the answer. Amy understood and smiled.

  “You must have guessed it. We do it the good old-fashioned way—by hand.”

  “Oh, Mitya would like that. It’s too bad he overslept.” No one but Francesca used Marchenko’s first name, and she had only recently started doing so.

  “How exactly would this work?” Martin would have preferred to write a program modification, but he suspected they were due for another EVA.

  “Our 4-meter-dish is located on a ball coupling and can be rotated in any direction by linear motors. These motors are not very strong, and the antenna hardly weighs anything. We go outside, turn it to the correct position, and hold it there until we have contacted ILSE 2. As soon as the EVA crew lets go, the motors will align the dish with Earth again.”

  High tech versus muscle power, Martin concluded. Yes, this is the kind of spaceflight Marchenko, or Willinger, would enjoy. He suddenly remembered his trainer at NASA, who had warned him of a mission without return.

  “So we just need to decide who will go,” the commander said. “Are there any volunteers?”

  Francesca raised her hand at once. “I need some fresh air—ha-ha. And the sooner we have solved this issue, the sooner we can start the return journey.”

  Amy swallowed hard.

  “And I guess it is my turn now,” Hayato said, standing up.

  “Good. Then you can start preparing for the procedure immediately. Let’s meet at the airlock. Martin, remember to visit Marchenko. We don’t want our doctor to be sick.”

  Why did the commander send me, of all people, to check on Marchenko? In the presence of the very experienced cosmonaut, Martin always felt like a boy who had just gotten his first job aboard a ship. He moved along the tube leading to the Russian’s cabin. One minute later, Martin knocked on his door.

  No answer.

  He pressed the button and the door slid sideways. Marchenko had not locked his cabin door. Martin noticed a stale, sweetish-wet smell. This should be impossible, since the air conditioning is centrally controlled. Marchenko was lying on his bed in a tracksuit, sleeping soundly. There was a smile on his face. He is probably dreaming. His ears were covered by a pair of headphones connected to a small device. It looked old-fashioned. Could it be an iPod? Martin had heard of these antique devices that could only play music. He believed such things were invented in the 1980s. Martin inspected the cabin. There was a box of cigarettes lying in front of the bed. I can hardly believe it! The Russian must have manipulated the air conditioning system. The vents had indeed been plugged with pieces of clothing. At the foot of the bed he saw an empty glass bottle with a Russian label. I wish I could have secret supplies! It seems Marchenko really tried to fulfill all the stereotypes.

  Martin touched his shoulder. The Russian jerked upward, almost making their heads collide.

  “What... what are you doing here?”

  “You did not react to anything, so Amy sent me.”

  “What’s the time?”

  “Ten o’clock ship time.”

  Marchenko sat up. Martin could smell the alcohol on his breath.

  “Fuck,” he said. “Something must have gone wrong.” He scratched behind his ear. “Francesca is going to be pissed.”

  “I did not notice anything like that. She volunteered for an EVA,” Martin said.

  “That is just like her. Of course, she does not show anything outwardly. But I know her better. She can be pretty... exhausting.”

  “My goodness, the way it looks in here...”

  “I know. It won’t happen again.” Marchenko took a look at the glass bottle. “It’s empty anyway.”

  “What’s going on?” Martin could hardly believe he asked this question. Do I really want to know? Is it any of my business?

  Marchenko looked him straight in the eye. “Yesterday, I had a fight with Francesca because she wants to break off the mission.”

  “But didn’t you want to end it, too?” Martin asked.

  Nodding, Marchenko replied, “For a short time, yes, though it probably doesn’t actually matter. The whole thing was uncertain from the very start. I told Francesca I would vote against breaking off the mission if we could fill up with hydrogen as reaction mass on Enceladus. She somehow saw this as a kind of betrayal.”

  “Hmm.” Martin did not know how to react to this.

  “I don’t know what I mean to her,” Marchenko said. “I always thought we were just sleeping with each other, as adults do who have only a limited time left and want to have fun.”

  Martin was surprised, but did not let on. “So she sees that differently?”

  “Ne znayu. I don’t know. We never talked about it. Looks like it, though. Damn.”

  Amy should have come herself, Martin thought. What can I say about this? He only had one logical answer.

  “Well then, maybe you should talk about it sometime,” he said to Marchenko.

  “Yes, you smart aleck, I realized that, but just try once to do that with an angry Francesca. Why do you think that mirror there is cracked?”

  Martin could imagine the scene. Marchenko does not seem the type to give in quickly.

  “Not long ago she called you Mitya. Isn’t that a term of endearment? Then she cannot be that mad.”

  Marchenko stretched his torso and looked at him. “Really? Is that so?”

  Martin nodded.

  “That’s good news. Well, get out of my cabin so I can get dressed.”

  Two hours later the outer hatch of the airlock opened and two figures in spacesuits moved out onto the hull of the ship. From the command module, Jiaying and Martin watched their progress. Marchenko and Amy were waiting at the airlock. After the exit, the two figures did not take long to reach the main antenna. It was attached to a mast with a height of more than two meters and currently faced almost directly backward, in the direction of Earth. Both of the astronauts—actually, one would have been enough—maneuvered it into the almost opposite direction. It wasn’t hard work, but it taxed their patience, because as soon as they let go, the mechanism tried to return the antenna to its original position.

  Mission Control had already sent them data on where to expect ILSE 2 if that ship had continued its journey. During this experiment they would have no connection to Earth. It was Watson’s task to direct the positioning of the antenna into alignment with the provided data. Consequently, the two spacewalkers heard a rhythmic sound in their helmet radios. The closer they got to the target, the more quickly the pitch changed.

  Martin logged on to the helmet radio channel.

  “Beep—beep—beep.” There was an interval of maybe two seconds. He watched his fellow astronauts via the camera. Francesca turned the antenna, and Hayato secured it.

  “Beep-beep-beep.” They were getting closer.

  “Beepbeepbeep—beep—beep. Damn,” cursed Francesca. One more try, and once again she turned the antenna slightly too far. Martin heard her breathe faster. Another attempt followed, and it also failed. Hayato placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “Should I try it?”

  The pilot sighed. “Yes, please. I seem to be useless today.” They changed positions. Now it was Hayato’s turn.

  “Beepbeepbeep.” That was the sound indicating the optimal position.

  “Watson, contact ILSE 2 according to special instructions,” Martin commanded. The AI did not answer, but Martin could follow its activity on the screen. Would it find the lost spaceship?

  “Connection established,” Watson acknowledged. Martin was shocked when he heard this. He was no longer used to receiving immediate answers to radio signals. ILSE 2 must be very close to us, and it does not seem to be completely inoperative, he noticed.

  “Hayato, wait right there.”

  Martin saw the status reports
from ILSE 2 arriving on the monitor. The transmission speed was low. It is obviously communicating with the low-gain antenna, which has a short range and uses less energy. Once they analyzed the data they would see whether only the main antenna was defective—a good sign—or if there was a general energy shortage.

  “Transmission completed,” Watson reported after exactly seven minutes. The EVA crew could come back inside. Mission Control had asked to analyze the data, so the people on board would not know how much of a chance they had until the next shift.

  August 17, 2046, ILSE

  “I am sorry to wake you in the middle of the night when it’s your time off,” Amy began, “but I thought you would be interested in the new data sent by Mission Control.”

  Everyone nodded. Of course they all wanted to know whether the mission still stood a chance.

  “First, the bad news,” she began. “Watson?”

  “On June 25, the spaceship ILSE 2 was hit by a meteoroid, which severed the connection to its drives. Otherwise, the ship is mostly intact, but it will not be able to decelerate once reaching the orbit of Saturn. The AI placed it into energy-saving mode.”

  “Is there any chance we can reach the contents of the cargo bays?” Marchenko asked.

  “ILSE 2 is only two weeks flight time ahead of us, but we can hardly catch up with that,” Hayato looked at his tablet while answering the question. “Theoretically, we could accelerate a potential 20 km/s, but if we increase speed now, we will have to shed it here,” he said, pointing at the orbit of Saturn. “And this would cost us a lot of fuel, or reaction mass, about 80 percent of what we need for the entire return flight. Even if we replenish our supplies afterward from ILSE 2, in the end we would have gained only 20 percent. That’s not enough for the return trip.”

  “So we have to let our roast goose get away,” Marchenko said with a sigh.

  “It looks like it,” Amy remarked. “However, Mission Control also has good news for us.”

  “The fusion drives,” Watson stated, “are not actually designed for a doubled flow rate. According to simulations, though, they most probably will not be damaged by it.”

  “So this means we can fill up our tanks on Enceladus?” The ship’s doctor seemed hardly able to believe it.

  The AI answered, “Correct, Dr. Marchenko. The hardware for splitting water into hydrogen and oxygen is already on board. The mechanism is used in the secondary motor of the DFDs, and there will be enough time for it. Using hydrogen instead of deuterium as a reaction mass has a drawback, though. In a certain percentage, a fusion of hydrogen and helium-3 might occur. That generates gamma rays. The drives do not possess sufficient shielding against that.”

  Francesca exhaled loudly but said nothing. Everyone seemed to understand the consequences.

  Marchenko asked, “Could we produce some shielding now. For instance, by placing water containers in front of the drives?”

  “No, Dr. Marchenko. For an effective attenuation of gamma rays we would need material made of elements with a higher atomic number, like lead. We do not have sufficient amounts of those on board.”

  “Well, then. Let me summarize our options.” Marchenko is really going full throttle today, Martin thought when he heard him continue. “Option 1: We immediately decelerate, but we will only get home if Earth rescues us and we haven’t starved by then. Option 2: We continue the mission as planned, generate hydrogen on Enceladus, and use it to fly home. But we will arrive hungry and grilled by gamma rays.”

  “That’s a rather drastic way of putting it, but that’s what it looks like,” Amy concurred.

  “The mission design allows for a few more variations,” Watson added. “If Earth supplies us with deuterium on the return trip, we only have to use hydrogen for the initial acceleration, and this would reduce the radiation exposure of the crew. If we catch up with ILSE 2, that would secure a fifth of our deuterium supplies. Then we would need less hydrogen. Furthermore, ILSE 2 has enough food on board for our return flight.”

  “A lot of ifs,” Marchenko said quietly. “Though I think it’s worth a try.”

  “Should we vote on it?” Amy asked, looking around. No one protested.

  “Does anyone insist on a secret ballot?”

  “Anyway, you know I am in favor of breaking off the mission,” Francesca said with a tense voice.

  “Well. Let’s do it quickly. Siri, please record and block from being deleted.”

  The AI acknowledged the commander’s order.

  “Who is in favor of breaking off the mission?”

  Francesca raised her hand. While doing so, she glared at Marchenko.

  “One vote,” Amy counted aloud, even though it was obvious.

  “Who is in favor of continuing the mission?”

  Hayato and Martin voted for it. After a short hesitation, Jiaying raised a finger.

  “That would be four votes,” the commander said. “since I am also in favor of continuing.”

  “Are there any abstentions?”

  “That would be me, I guess,” Marchenko said.

  “Then I determine that an absolute majority of the crew has voted to continue the mission. Siri, end recording and send it to Mission Control.”

  “You can’t just rush it like this!” Francesca said with a red face. Marchenko placed a hand on her shoulder, but she shook it off.

  “Francesca?” Amy looked her in the eyes.

  “I... no... this can’t be done! We haven’t even really discussed it!”

  “It did not seem necessary in this case. The results are clear. We...”

  “I don’t care what you want to do. I never signed up for a suicide mission. If I had known that, my children...”

  “Francesca, you don’t have any children. We know that.” Amy’s face displayed a mixture of confusion and outrage.

  “Well, no. Shit! Life is sometimes more complicated than in the case of you, with your lightning career.”

  Amy winced. “What do you mean by that?”

  “My sister. It is about her kids. We lived together in the same house. Shortly before launch, I learned she was suffering from breast cancer. Our mother died a long time ago. If I don’t return in time, the children will have to grow up in an orphanage!” A tear glittered on Francesca’s red cheek.

  “I am very sorry, Francesca,” Amy said with a sympathetic smile. “But the decision has been made. We will return, one way or another. Trust me, okay?”

  Francesca was breathing heavily. I know how she must feel inside right now. Martin recognized her inner struggle.

  “Fuck it,” she finally said, then turned around and quickly left the command module. At the hatch she turned back once more. “It will be your fault if those children have to grow up alone. All of you; your fault!” Then she left the room, where the only sound now came from the life-support system.

  November 15, 2046, ILSE

  Eleven months. Martin could hardly believe it. Eleven times thirty days crammed into a bunch of tin cans that seem to have been randomly attached to each other. After the decision to continue the mission had been made, the pursuit of ILSE 2 had initially made for some excitement. In retrospect, Martin was surprised everything had worked so smoothly. Accelerate, match speeds, retrieve cargo...

  Marchenko had turned out to be a veritable virtuoso with a SAFER and had repeatedly flown back and forth between the ships. When Martin first saw the damage that had been done to the other ship, his hands trembled. Afterward, Watson had shown him a visual simulation of what a direct hit would have done to the engines or the command module—an even more disturbing idea.

  They currently had a fifth of the deuterium aboard that they would need for the return flight, and their food supply issues had been permanently solved. Lying on his bed, Martin was staring at the ceiling, where white clouds moved across a blue sky. He was playing a game. To do so, he had to try to relax. The ship sensors measured his parameters, and the more relaxed he was, the bluer the sky became.

  He
envisioned an image of the commander. She does not seem as tough as she used to be—more maternal. Amy’s belly is rounded. It bulges out so much it seems unnatural, as if the low gravity is to blame. Each time he saw the commander again, during a shift or on his time off, her belly had grown a bit more. While she always complained she was not as agile as she used to be, or that she got winded too quickly, she also grinned. Marchenko was happy the pregnancy was progressing so well. The baby was doing fine, and the microgravity seemed to have caused no damage. However, the doctor could only be completely certain after birth, and even then, new problems might arise. The main question was how bone growth would be affected. The six astronauts were adults, but despite their intensive physical exercise, they were losing bone density. In Martin’s case, Marchenko had measured a loss of seven percent. This isn’t the end of the world. If the process continues, it might reach 20 percent by the time we return to Earth, which can be dealt with. Martin would not end up in a wheelchair.

  The pilot Francesca was now much more distant toward the others, except for Marchenko. Martin could imagine she felt betrayed. Only Marchenko had not voted against her. She was not openly hostile, but the friendliness Martin had noticed when he first met her was gone. I hope our relationship will eventually become normal again.

  Suddenly it was quiet. Completely quiet. Martin had become so used to the constant background noise that the silence felt like a blow to the head. The light flickered. Then the noise started up again. He noticed a breeze on his face. His felt cold sweat on his back.

  “Main computer rebooted successfully,” Siri reported. “Energy supply online. Battery capacity at 99 percent. Navigation, life support, and communication online. Drive offline.”

  Drive offline? Martin jumped up and hit his head. On the ceiling, storm clouds roiled, flashing lightning.