Margaritifer Basin (Margaritifer Trilogy Book 1)

by Gregory Gates

  She shook her head and ran back out.

  Jeff sighed and said to himself, “Now it gets interesting.” He picked up his coffee and joined Gabe, Abby, Susan and Chrissie on the sofa in the great room where they were watching CNN. “Something interesting on the news?”

  They all looked at him in astonishment.

  Jeff grinned. “Alright. Never mind.”

  Without removing her gaze from the TV, Abby said, “They found out you’re a Navy EOD Captain and some lunatic is claiming this is a secret government mission for you to disarm a doomsday device sent to Mars back in the 1950s from Area 51 that’s supposed to go off in five years and destroy the universe.”

  Jeff laughed, “You’re kidding!”

  Susan shook her head, “No, she’s not. It’s embarrassing.”

  Jeff stopped laughing and looked at her. “It’s not embarrassing, it’s insane, and you and I know better.” He got up, walked over to the TV and turned it off.

  Abby frowned, “Hey.”

  “Hey, nothing. It’s a media circus, a feeding frenzy. All they’ve got is what we told them so they’re making up the rest as they go. It will all sort itself out over the next few days, weeks and months. Alright? In the meantime, don’t we have work to do? I don’t know about you but I don’t want to make liars out of us, and we’ve got a launch in fourteen months.”

  They nodded but didn’t grumble, and headed downstairs. Gabe stopped beside Jeff and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”

  Jeff returned her smile. “Forget it. Just give me that launch.”

  She nodded. “You’ll get it.”

  Early that afternoon Jeff placed another call to the office of Senator Richard Landers, ranking minority member of the United States Senate Science and Space Subcommittee. For two months Jeff had been trying to speak to the Senator personally, but was continually blocked by his Chief of Staff, Mark Chambliss. Jeff hoped that with the morning’s press release he might finally get through.

  “Good afternoon Mr. Grey,” said Mark, “Quite a splash you made in the news this morning.”

  “Hello Mark. I’d like you to listen very carefully. First, it’s Captain Grey, United States Navy, I’m not some fucking plumber from Arkansas. Second, I’ve been trying to speak to your boss for two months and I’m plumb out of patience. Now you get him on the phone – and I mean now – or I’m gonna fly down to Washington tomorrow morning and call a press conference on the front steps of the Dirksen Building and embarrass the living bejesus out of you. Am I making myself clear?”

  There was a short pause before Mark responded. “Quite clear, Captain. Hold on a minute.”

  A minute later Senator Landers came on the line. “Captain Grey? Dick Landers. What can I do for you?”

  “Senator, it’s a pleasure to finally speak with you. You, as the whole country probably knows, are the government’s foremost proponent of our space program. But your visions for space exploration have been tabled and pigeonholed for a number of reasons, but mostly revolving around budget and partisan politics. I’d like to help. I am not a nut, not a publicity-seeker, and what you heard on the news this morning is not a hoax. It is anything but. I am dead serious about this. And if I am successful, I believe it will open an entire new era of U.S. manned space exploration, which just happens to be right up your alley. Senator, I’d like to meet with you and prove to you beyond any reasonable doubt that we are serious, that this can be done, and that we are going to do it.”

  “Captain, I had the Secretary of the Navy send me over a copy of your service record this morning. You’ve served this country for longer than I have, and you have done so faithfully, honorably and in what I can only imagine is a very hazardous job. I guess I owe it to you. When and where?”

  “Though I’m sure it would be more convenient for you for us to come down to Washington, I believe you’ll get much more out of it if you come to us up here in Rhode Island. Then we can show you everything: plans, mock-ups, every last detail.”

  “Very well. When?”

  “At your convenience, sir. We have a jet, we’d be happy to fly you, even put you up for the night, if you’d like.”

  “Would a weekend work?”

  “That would be excellent, sir.”

  “Alright. How about next weekend?”

  “Perfect.”

  “Alright, Captain. I’ll have my travel secretary contact you and make the necessary arrangements.”

  “Thank you Senator, I sincerely appreciate your time.”

  “Okay. Then see you next weekend. And, Captain, don’t hold it against Mark. He was just doing his job.”

  “I know sir, just as you’re doing yours and I’m doing mine. The game has rules. Right?”

  “That it does, Captain. Good day.”

  “Good day, Senator.”

  Jeff hung up the phone, leaped out of his chair and ran downstairs. When he hit the lower level landing he yelled, “All hands on deck! Everyone. Office. NOW!”

  Only Abby was in the main office. “Jeez, boss! What’s up?”

  “I’ll explain. Just hang on a minute.”

  Gabe, Susan and Chrissie came running in. “What is it?”

  “Okay, listen up. I just got off the phone with United States Senator Richard Landers, ranking minority member of the Senate Science and Space Subcommittee. Hold onto your butts, he’s gonna be here next weekend and he’s gonna want a complete and thorough explanation. And we’re gonna give it to him.”

  Abby’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit.”

  “Yeah. Chrissie, Abby, we’re gonna fly him up in the CJ3, figure out where the hell we can land down there.”

  “Okay.”

  “And Chrissie, his travel secretary will call to make arrangements. And he’ll be here for the weekend. Roll out the red carpet, make sure we’ve got rooms available and ready, plenty of food and drink, blah, blah, blah. Handle it.”

  “Got it.” She sighed. “Oh God.”

  “Gabe.”

  “Huh?”

  “SRT has a rover up and running, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Get it here before next weekend. Let’s give the Senator a real live demonstration of something he can lay his hands on that we’ve actually done. Hell, let him drive the damn thing.”

  “Okay.”

  “Chrissie, help her with the arrangements.”

  Chrissie nodded.

  “I don’t care what it takes, charter a 747 cargo if you have to, but get it here.”

  “Okay.”

  “Sue, get some suits from ILC Dover. They’re not gonna want to part with them, but we need ‘em. Call Paul and make him understand. It’s crunch time, okay?”

  “Right.”

  “And Chrissie, call in all the troops. Get the house cleaned, the pool cleaned, the lawn mowed… you know the drill.”

  “Relax, boss. Take a pill. I’ve got it.”

  “Yeah, sorry, just a little wired. Boys and girls, we can’t ask for a better ally than this. We need to make a good impression.”

  They all nodded.

  “Alright. Five o’clock, update meeting in the conference room. Move like you have a purpose.”

  Promptly at 5:00 they all met again in the conference room. Everyone looked more than a bit frazzled. Jeff rapped the table with his knuckles. “Busy day? Chrissie, why don’t we start with you? How do we get the Senator up here? Any airports down there we can fly into?”

  “Not many. Reagan is open on a limited basis to general aviation, but I think flying to Mars will be easier. They allow 48 GA flights a day, but they have to originate from one of 24 ‘gateway’ airports around the country. And, no, Quonset isn’t one of them.”

  “Surprise, surprise.”

  “And – and here’s the part you’re gonna love – in addition to a full background check of crew and passengers, you’re required to have an armed federal agent on board.”

  “Jesus! You’re kidding?”

  “Nope.”

  “God
. Bureaucrats, you gotta love ‘em. How about Dulles?”

  “No GA. There’s Baltimore, but it’s a ways away. Best bet looks like Manassas. It’s about 30 miles southwest of D.C. Lots of GA and, according to AirNav, 27 jets based there.”

  “Runways?” said Abby.

  “Uh, 16 left – 34 right is 5,700 feet, 16 right – 34 left is 3,700 feet.”

  “Okay, no problem. ILS?”

  “Yeah, 16 left.”

  Abby turned to Jeff, “Works for me.”

  “Yeah, me too. Okay, Manassas it is. Chrissie, have you talked to the Senator’s secretary yet?”

  “Yeah, didn’t have much for her when she called. I promised to get back to her with complete details by tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Okay. Well, let’s have complete details by then. See if you can find some ground transport. How about a limo or something? Find some executive service that knows the routine. The Senator probably has his own transportation, but let’s have a backup just in case. Did she say who might be coming with him? God I hope we don’t need a bigger plane.”

  “Just the Senator, his Chief of Staff and executive secretary.”

  “No Secret Service?”

  “They didn’t say anything about it. I don’t think a mere Senator warrants Secret Service protection.”

  “That’s a relief. One less mouth to feed.”

  Chrissie grinned. “Yep.”

  “No wife or anything?”

  “Nope.”

  “Okay. Chief of Staff, huh? Crap, that’s Mark Chambliss, the twerp that’s been giving me the runaround for two months. He may need killing. Abby, it’d be bad form for me to do it. Would you mind?”

  Abby grinned. “No problem.”

  “Thanks, I’ll let you know. Uh, once Chrissie has final details, flight plan’s your responsibility.”

  “Got it.”

  “Chrissie,” Jeff raised his hands and motioned to the house, “what about this place?”

  “All set. Spring cleaning on Thursday.”

  “Good. Gabe, Rover One?”

  “It’ll be in Boston Wednesday afternoon on a FedEx cargo flight, and they’re sending it on its trailer. We just need to drive up and get it.”

  “Excellent.”

  “It wasn’t cheap.”

  “I didn’t think it would be, but it’s worth it.”

  “We’ll need to fuel it.”

  “Okay, well there’s got to be a gas farm around here somewhere. Find somebody that has liquid CO and LOX.”

  “Don’t need to. Roger says it’s multi-fuel. All we need to do is adjust the mixture and it’ll run on CO, methane, propane, even LNG.”

  “Cool.”

  “And we don’t need LOX. It won’t run on atmospheric oxygen, the mixture is too far off, but plain old medical or industrial O2 will work fine. There’s even a separate fitting for it.”

  “Outstanding.”

  “Just remember, it’s a prototype. It’s kind of rough but it should easily provide proof of concept. And Roger says it runs great. But he would like it back. It’s got his test engine in it.”

  “No problem, just as soon as we’re done with it. Good job.”

  “Sue, suits?”

  “Paul has two for us; a second generation I-Suit that fits me and a Mark III that should fit the Senator.”

  “Good thinking! How’d you find his measurements?”

  “I called and asked.”

  “D’oh. Well done.”

  “We just need to go down and get them. They’ll be in shipping containers, and heavy. I don’t think we can get them in the plane. They’ll go through the door but they’re too big for the aisle.”

  “Alright. Well, see if they’ll fit in the Escalade. If not, we’ll just rent a truck and go down there.”

  “Okay.”

  “Oh, stands? PLSS ready to go?”

  “They’ll have stands ready for us. Charged life support packs will be with the suits.”

  “Very good. Well, that’s the easy stuff. The fun part comes next – getting us ready. We need to anticipate every possible question, and have a good answer for each. So first thing tomorrow let’s try to work out a presentation, a plan of attack. Let’s try to keep things structured in our favor and minimize the awkward tangents. Okay, anything else?”

  Chrissie raised her hand. “I am way behind on returning calls, faxes, emails, etc. With everything else I’ve had to do today, it’s been a mess.”

  “Understood. Don’t worry about it.” Jeff looked around the table. “Any volunteers to help Chrissie get all those media queries answered?”

  “I can,” Susan answered. “I’ve probably got a little less prep work for this event than Gabe and Abby.”

  “There you go. Oh, while I think of it, one other thing: start putting together your shopping lists for the government. At this point I don’t want to ask for money, though we’ll get to that eventually. But think about services that Uncle Sam can provide that may be of use to us that the taxpayers have already paid for. Stuff like the Deep Space Network, satellites, either communications or photos, like HiRISE while it’s still working. Any launch services, communications interfaces to here, I dunno, whatever. Just think about it, make a list.”

  They all nodded.

  “Okay then. I’m hungry. Let’s get some dinner. Who’s cooking tonight?”

  “Me,” said Susan. “Szechwan shrimp stir-fry.”

  Abby’s eyes lit up. “Does hot sake go with that?”

  “You bet.”

  “What are we waiting for?”

  Around nine the following morning Jeff bounced into the office downstairs and found Abby at her desk.

  “Morning boss. Where have you been? You were up and out early.”

  “Flight lesson.” Jeff grinned and handed her a folded piece of paper.

  “What’s this?” She unfolded it and jumped out of her chair. “Alright! You’re licensed! Congratulations.”

  “Thanks. Finally got my ticket punched.”

  “Well done. So now you don’t need me to haul you around anymore.”

  “Yeah, right, only if I want to travel in a single-engine Cessna. And you know that ain’t gonna happen.”

  “How are you coming on the instrument rating?”

  “I’ve been working on it at night and I think I’m about ready for the written exam. Cindtronix has a 12-day crash course in the hands-on portion, but lord, I just don’t know if I can devote that amount of undivided attention to it. Still, it’d sure be nice to just get it done; and it includes the complex and high performance endorsements.”

  “Eh, you could manage that. We can hold down the fort for that long, though probably not this week.”

  “No, definitely not this week. Hey, I found a really neat C90GTi for sale in Illinois.”

  Abby wagged her finger at him. “You’ve been shopping online again, haven’t you?”

  Jeff smiled. “Guilty as charged. It’s a 2008 with around 450 hours, Collins ProLine 21, like new leather interior. It’s sweet.”

  “Well, let’s go buy it. You could be flying it in a month or two.”

  “I’m sorely tempted, but they’re asking $3.1 million. Seems like an awful lot of money for a mid-size turboprop. Gonna have to think about it. So, what are you guys up to?”

  “Just trying to get our ducks lined up for this weekend. You know, it’d sure be nice if we had a little more than two suits and prototype rover to show him.”

  “Yeah, but what? After only four months on the job, it’s unreasonable to expect too much.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Hmmm…” Jeff thought for a minute. “I have an idea.”

  “Uh oh.”

  “Where’s Gabe?”

  “In the conference room, where she usually hangs out.”

  “Hang on.” Jeff stuck his head out the door. “Gabe? You have a second.”

  “Yeah. Be right there,” she called back.

  Jeff turned back to Abby. “Ca
ll Chrissie and ask her to come over too.”

  “Okay. Sue’s not here.”

  “Yeah, I know. I ran into her up at Cindtronix, she took off just after I finished up.”

  Gabe and Chrissie showed up at the door. “Hey, gather ‘round, I have an idea. Abby and I were just talking about trying to come up with some other stuff to show the Senator. Obviously we’re not gonna have any more hardware, there’s just no time. But some reasonable graphics and imagery might go a long way toward filling the gaps. Gabe, how’s your expertise with the CAD program?”

  “Good. What do you need?”

  “I know you’ve done a lot of sketch work on various system proposals; transit ship, MAV, tuna cans, etcetera. Is there any chance you could render some of that in 3D? At least wire-frames? Better yet, surfaced and shaded?”

  “Sure. It may be a little crude but, yeah, I can do it.”

  “Outstanding. Chrissie, you know anything about PowerPoint?”

  “I’m not an expert but, yeah, I can assemble presentations.”

  “Alright. How about the two of you piecing together some kind of chronological pictorial presentation of the mission – launch, transit, landing, habs, MAV, whatever you can do – I dunno, maybe superimposed on a surface image? Gabe, can you do that?”

  “Sure. Easy.”

  “Great. What I’m thinking is, it would be a whole lot better if we could show the Senator what we’ll be doing rather than just telling him about it.”

  Gabe nodded. “Yeah, I see what you’re driving at.” She turned to Chrissie. “We can do that.”

  “Yeah,” Chrissie said.

  Jeff nodded. “Okay. Don’t kill yourselves with it. We still need to support it with details. But see what you can come up with. Chrissie, how many laser pointers do we have?”

  “Uh, two, I think.”

  “Why don’t you get three or four more? We can hand ‘em out, let everybody have a toy to play with, use them to ask and answer questions.”

  “Good idea. I’ll take care of it.”

  Abby waved her hands in the air. “By the way, announcement. Drum roll please. Our beloved boss got his pilot’s license this morning.”

  Chrissie and Gabe cheered. “Congratulations,” Gabe said.