“Uh, goodness… perhaps you should speak with Mr. Andovar, our Marketing Director.”
“Okay. Can you connect me?”
“Just a moment, let me see if he’s available.”
Jeff sat on hold, listening to a canned promo on all the things that ILC Dover has done, does, and may do someday in the future.
“This is Paul Andovar. Mr. Grey, is it? How may I help you?”
“Yes, Paul. Jeff Grey, Grey Aerospace. I’m sure you haven’t heard of us, we’re a pretty new startup with an eye on systems integration for near-term commercial planetary exploration. And I’m looking to make an appointment for a face-to-face sit-down with someone at ILC to explain what I need and want, and perhaps what I might do for you.” Jeff was, as usual, intentionally vague. Coming right out and announcing his plan to fly to Mars in four years usually didn’t elicit the best response.
“Well, that certainly sounds ambitious. Uh, might I ask, what kind of systems are you interested in?”
“Pretty much everything you’ve got: suits, habitats, lander airbags, the works. We’re looking at options for assembling the full package.”
“Really. Alright, um, let me see. I’m afraid I’m going to be tied up tomorrow, how about Wednesday afternoon, say 1:00?”
“That would be great.”
“Where are you located Mr. Grey?”
“Please, it’s Jeff. We’re up in Rhode Island, Newport, not terribly far from you.”
“Okay, then I’ll see you Wednesday. I’m looking forward to hearing more about this.”
“Great. I think this may interest you and I look forward to meeting you. Thanks for your time and have a good day.”
Jeff hung up then dialed the next number on his list.
“Dr. Loewen.”
“Good morning sir, my name is Jeffrey Grey, I’m the owner and CEO of Grey Aerospace. I pulled your name off the Stanford Racing Team website and I hope you might be able to help me out with a wee little project.”
“Aerospace, huh. What can I do for you Mr. Grey?”
“Well, I’ve been reading up on SRT’s success in the DARPA Grand Challenge a few years back, and it seems you might be the right folks for a project I have in mind. I need a vehicle, capable of remote, manual, and autonomous off-road operation. It needs to carry and/or tow up to 1200 pounds, have a top speed of at least twenty miles per hour, twenty-five would be better, and operate largely unattended in an extremely hostile environment for at least three and a half years. It must weigh no more than 1875 pounds, and… I need it in 18 months.”
“Wow. That’s a pretty tall order. I’m not sure it could even be done. How ‘hostile’ of an environment are you talking about?”
“Oh, how about… Mars.”
“Mars? Okay, that’s pretty hostile. Um, are you planning to put a remote rover up there?”
“That’s correct.”
“Wait a minute, you said ‘capable of manual operation’. Why’s that?”
“Because from time to time somebody will be driving it.”
“Uh huh. On Mars?”
“That is correct.”
“Excuse me Mr. Grey, is this some kind of joke?”
“No, Dr. Loewen, this is not a joke. I’m dead serious. First cargo launch, including the first of two rovers, goes up in December 2013 and crew launch in March 2016. Are you interested, or do I hang up and call Carnegie Mellon?”
“If you’re for real, hell yes I’m interested! But I still don’t know if it can be done. Why haven’t I heard anything of this in press from NASA.”
“Because NASA is not involved. This is an entirely private venture. I’m thinking you might start with a basic, off-the-shelf Kawasaki Mule. Internal combustion is fine; we’ll just need to configure it to run on carbon monoxide and LOX. Besides all the usual collision avoidance ability, it’ll also need to navigate by range and bearing data from something like a TACAN, in addition to pretty good inertial, as there’s no GPS up there. And I will, of course, pay for it. Would you like to talk it over with your people and get back to me in a day or two?”
“Uh, yeah. We’ve talked about projects sort of like this off and on but, jeez.”
“Very good. If you decide to take it on, I’ll fax you a complete list of specifications and requirements. Let me know, soon.”
“Carbon monoxide?”
“Yeah. It’s either that or methane. CO’s not quite as efficient but just as easy to produce, and you don’t have to fool with water recovery from the exhaust. Nothing coming out of the tailpipe but CO2, which is what you make the CO and O2 from in the first place. Nice and neat.”
“This will be interesting.”
They exchanged contact information and Dr. Loewen promised to get back to Jeff as soon as he could.
Jeff suddenly thought that all this might be a lot easier if the press got hold of it and the mission became public knowledge. That would certainly eliminate the credibility problem, up to a point. Still, it was awfully early and he wasn’t terribly excited about the idea of facing a room full of reporters. He figured someone would eventually spill the beans, but for now there seemed little point in rushing the process.
Glancing over the list again, Jeff spotted one task he was really looking forward to.
“Good morning, Cindtronix.”
“Hi, I want to learn how to fly. What do I do? How do I get started?”
“Great. That’s what we’re here for. Have you ever flown in a private plane?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, well, you might like to start with one of our ‘Discovery Flights’. It’s an actual hands-on lesson and the time counts toward your Private Pilot license training requirement.”
“Yeah, that sounds good. When do you have an opening?”
“Well, let me see… we’re fairly open this afternoon. Otherwise… it would be Wednesday.”
“I’ll be out of town Wednesday so let’s make it today. What time?”
“We offer 30-, 60- and 90-minute flights. We have a couple openings that we could fit the shorter flights into but, if you’d like the 90-minute flight, we could fit you in at one o’clock.”
“That’ll work. One o’clock it is.”
A little before 1:00 Jeff parked the Aston Martin in front of the Quonset State Airport terminal and walked upstairs to Cindtronix’ office. At the counter was a short gentleman, probably in his mid-60’s. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah, I’m Jeff Grey, I called this morning and am here for an introductory flight.”
“Ah yes, Mr. Grey, I’m the one you spoke to,” reaching across the counter to shake hands, “Bob Masse. I’m one of the flight instructors here and I’ll be taking you up this afternoon.”
“Great. Pleased to meet you, Bob.”
“Have you ever flown in a small plane before?”
“Nope.”
“Well, you’re gonna love it. It’s great fun. So you want to learn to fly?”
“Yeah, that’s the plan.”
“Just for pleasure? Or are looking at an aviation career?”
“Well, kind of somewhere in between. I’ve got an assortment of reasons, not the least of which is that I’ll be doing a great deal of traveling around the country over the next few years and having my own plane so I can bypass the hassle of commercial flights just seems like a good idea.”
“Well, there you go. Good for you. What line of work are you in?”
“Aerospace.”
Bob laughed, “Well then you definitely need to learn how to fly… part of the job description.”
Jeff grinned, “Uh, yeah, you might say that.”
“Are you at all familiar with the pilot training program? What’s involved?”
“Yeah, I’ve done some reading about it on the Internet, I think I’ve got a pretty good handle on the process.”
“Alright, then we’ll forego the nauseating introduction, and get right to it. I’ve got you slated for a 90-minute intro flight, that’s $299. That al
right with you?”
“Sounds good. Look, Bob, I’m very serious about this. I want to get it done safely and intelligently, but as quickly as practical. I’m going to need a private license, instrument rating, all the endorsements – complex, high performance, multi-engine, etc. – and probably a commercial certificate just for good measure. Then I’ll need to build up some time and skills and push right on for a type rating. So, what’s the full tab for a private license? I’ll write you a check and we can get going.”
“Wow, you are serious. Okay, on average it takes most folks about 54 hours of flight time and that’ll run around $8000. If you make a deposit of $1000 or more, we’ll give you a five percent credit on your account.”
Jeff pulled out his checkbook and wrote out a check for $8000. “Okay, this should get us started.”
“Okay, let me write you a receipt. You mentioned a type rating, what are you planning on flying?”
“Citation.”
Bob’s jaw dropped, “Jeez! You aren’t kidding. You’ve got your work cut out for you, that’s for sure.”
“Yeah, well, the convenience and flexibility of having your own plane drops off rather quickly unless you’ve got the speed and legs to keep up with commercial flights, and that means a jet. So that’s the plan.”
“Okay, then let’s not waste any time. Follow me, we’ll go to the ready room for a preflight briefing and get right to it. This will be a cross-country flight, and you’ve got your choice of destinations. Any place around here you’d like to go?”
“Oh, not really. Maybe down along the south end of Aquidneck Island. I’d kind of like to see what my house looks like from the air.”
“Okay.”
Jeff took a seat in the ready room and got his first ground school lesson, after which Bob led him out onto the tarmac. “This is a Cessna Skyhawk 172, the plane we’ll be flying today and the one you’ll be training in. It’s not a Citation, but it is a bit easier to fly.”
“Works for me. Have to start someplace,” Jeff grinned.
Jeff followed Bob around the airplane and listened attentively as he conducted the preflight inspection. Tires, brakes, fuel level, control surfaces, lights clean, cabin air intake, Pitot, baggage door closed and locked, tie downs and wheel chocks removed… check. When Bob was satisfied that all was in proper working order they climbed in and buckled up. From the right seat Jeff was immediately impressed by two things: the view, no tiny commercial jet window here, this was like being in a car, and the vast number of gauges, instruments and controls. Clearly there was a lot involved in flying, even a small plane.
“Today, I’ll just walk you through the startup, taxi and takeoff checklists. I’ll explain the ‘what’ but not the ‘why,’ you’ll get all that in later lessons,” said Bob as he began the cockpit preflight. “Many of us old codgers like me have tinnitus from listening to the noise of these engines for too many years so most everyone these days wears headsets to save their hearing. The cockpit intercom is voice-actuated so to talk with me, just talk. To transmit on the radio you have to key the transmit button here on the control yoke. So just follow me as I go through this. Okay?”
“Got it.” Jeff could feel his pulse rising. This was already fun and Bob hadn’t even started the engine.
“Alright, here we go. Preflight complete. Brakes set. Mixture to rich. Carb heat to cold. Prime and lock. Throttle open ½ inch. Master switch to ON. Rotating beacon to ON. Propeller clear. And… START.”
The Skyhawk shook as the Lycoming engine fired and the propeller beat the air.
Bob went on, “Throttle to 1,000 RPM. Oil pressure, check. Radios and avionics to ON and transponder to standby. Radios, turn coordinator, magnetic compass, vacuum, ammeter, working and check. And we’re ready to go.” Bob keyed the radio transmit button, “Quonset ground, Cessna three eight one tango mike, Cessna one seven two uniform, at transit parking, request taxi one six for departure to Newport on local flight.”
“Cessna 381TM, taxi 16, squawk 1200, maintain at or below four thousand feet,” came the reply.
Bob repeated the instructions word for word then eased forward on the throttle to get the Skyhawk rolling. Jeff carefully followed Bob’s every action and listened intensely, thinking to himself, there’s a lot to this.
Bob taxied along the ramp to the end of the runway, stopped short and set the parking brake. “Cabin doors closed and latched, fuel select to both, flight controls free and clear, throttle to 1,700 RPM, mixture rich, magnetos – check, carb heat – check, throttle to 1,000 RPM, instruments – check, flaps up and carb heat cold.
“Quonset tower, Cessna 381TM holding short 16, ready for takeoff.”
“Cessna 381TM, cleared for takeoff runway 16, after departure turn to 18 and maintain.”
“Cleared for takeoff 16, turn to 18 and maintain, 381TM.”
Bob released the brake and again eased the throttle forward. He turned right, got the plane lined up down the center of the runway and pressed the throttle all the way forward. The Lycoming wound up and the Cessna began to accelerate. When the airspeed indicator showed 55 knots, Bob eased back on the control yoke promptly lifting the nose wheel off the ground, and a moment later they were airborne.
Jeff was giddy, “What a rush! Why didn’t I do this years ago?”
Bob turned due south and leveled off at 3,000 feet. In 15 minutes they were over the south end of Conanicut Island and Bob banked left toward Aquidneck Island. “Well, here you are. Where’s your house?”
Jeff looked down and located the Newport Country Club, then followed Ocean Boulevard a short way east to Goose Neck Cove. “Right there, on the bluff. Up above the cove.”
Bob followed Jeff’s finger, “Wow. Nice house.”
“Yeah, I like it.”
“Okay, well, where to now?”
“You’re flying, you choose. I’m just here to learn something.”
Bob turned southeast and headed out over the Rhode Island Sound toward Martha’s Vineyard.
After an hour of sightseeing up and down the New England coast, they flew up the west side of Narragansett Bay and banked right heading toward the airport.
“Okay Jeff, now comes the fun part. Mixture to rich, carb heat on, fuel select to both, flaps down and throttle back to 60 knots.
“Quonset tower, Cessna 381TM on approach 16, 1800 at the outer marker.”
“Cessna 1TM cleared to land 16.”
“Cleared to land 16, 1TM.
“Alright Jeff, we’re cleared to land, descending at a leisurely 300 feet per minute and about six minutes out.”
Jeff strained to see the runway ahead of them but couldn’t make it out. He hoped Bob knew where he was going. “What’s the ‘outer marker’?”
“It’s a radio beacon six miles from the end of the runway that provides range and bearing information, primarily used for instrument landings. In this plane, using it as a landing reference makes things real easy. At 60 knots you’re traveling one nautical mile a minute. The airport’s only eighteen feet above sea level so, for all practical purposes, zero. So if you’re at 1,800 feet MSL – mean sea level – over the outer marker lined up with the runway and descending at 300 feet per minute, you should be right on the money.”
“Gotcha.”
“Now, under Visual Flight Rules – VFR – some might call that cheating, but what the hell. If you can look out the window and know where the outer marker is, I think that’s splitting hairs. Still, a lot of small fields have no navigational beacons, so you’ll learn to do it by eye as well. But today we’ll do it the easy way.”
Jeff grinned, “Okay by me. Easy is good.” He finally saw the airport ahead, it looked like they were trying to land on a pinhead. But, as they approached it got larger and larger.
“Okay, now we already have permission to land so no further communications required with the tower. And here we go. Over the end of the runway, pull back just a bit on the yoke to put us in level flight a couple feet over the runway, cut the thro
ttle and… touchdown. Nothin’ to it.”
Jeff laughed, “Easy for you to say.” He scheduled all the flight time both he and Bob could accommodate and headed back to Newport exhilarated. Flying was a thrill and he anxiously looked forward to more.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012 (T minus 1371 days)
“Mr. Grey? Paul Andovar, pleased to meet you. Come on in. Can I get you anything? Coffee, soft drink?”
“No thank you, I’m good.” Jeff took a seat in the ILC Dover Marketing Director’s office. He was tired after the six-hour drive from Newport and glad to be sitting in something other than the car.
“If your goal on the phone was to pique my curiosity, it worked. What can I do for you?”
“Well, Paul, I’ll get right to the point. I am financing a manned mission to Mars. Crew launch is tentatively scheduled for March 2016, and I have a rather lengthy shopping list. Thought you folks might be able to help me.”
Paul sat in stunned silence for a moment then cracked a wry smile, “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious. This is no joke. It’s time for this to be done. We have the means, all it takes is money and desire. No one else seems interested, so I’m gonna do it.”
“Okay. Just for argument’s sake, how are you going to do it?”
“We go tested and proven, off-the-shelf, commercially available all the way. We go light, we go small, we go simple. Nothing fancy, nothing to be invented, no R&D. We take what exists and make it work. We launch lightweight compact loads and land lightweight compact loads, and we assemble in orbit or on the surface as necessary. It’s not foolproof, it is high risk, but it can be done.
“But here’s the deal, since this is an entirely commercial venture, I’m not looking for subcontractors who are only interested in making a buck. I’m not NASA. I’m looking for partners. Not necessarily the financial kind but let’s say, fellow enthusiasts. I’m looking for folks who want to see this happen as much as I do.”
“Well, I’m not going to argue with you. I think you’re right, it is possible. I think the odds of success are pretty remote, but it is possible.” Paul leaned forward on his desk and rubbed his chin. “I’m going to need to talk to some people. And I’m going to need details. What exactly is your plan?”
Margaritifer Basin (Margaritifer Trilogy Book 1) Page 14
