“Nice touch,” Susan said.
“Yeah, she’s got a feel for this.”
PAO, “Three minutes fifteen seconds and counting. Automatic sequencing has begun and the firing command has been received. Three minutes and counting – we are Go for launch. At this point, barring any problems, all mission elements are in the hands of the computers.”
“I wonder if that includes us?” said Jeff.
Gabe, sitting beside him, laughed nervously. “God, I hope not.”
PAO, “Two minutes forty seconds and counting. All launch control personnel at Cape Canaveral and Newport are intently watching the Atlas V’s parameters for even the most minor of system errors. There are none and we are Go for launch. Two minutes fifteen seconds and counting. Final fuel tank pressurization is now taking place. Two minutes and counting. Oxidizer tank pressure is building and we are Go for launch.”
“Does she sound a bit excited to you?” said Susan.
Jeff laughed. “Uh, just a little. Probably thinking about the millions of people that are listening to her.”
Abby grinned. “Sounds like she’s about to wet her pants.”
“Gabe, you knew her at Caltech, didn’t you?” said Jeff.
“Yeah, but not real well. She’s an engineer so we didn’t run into one another a lot. I remember her as smart and very methodical. Good math.”
“As good as yours?”
“No.”
Jeff grinned. “Did you pick her off the list?”
“Yeah, I recommended her to Chrissie.”
“Good call.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
PAO, “One minute thirty-five seconds and counting. Mars One Alpha’s destination is now 148,700,000 miles and 297 days away. We are Go for launch.
“T minus 50 seconds and counting. Power is switching to internal.”
Gabe took Jeff’s hand and squeezed it. He glanced at her and smiled nervously.
PAO, “Forty seconds and counting. The Atlas V is on internal power. All fuel and oxidizer tanks are now fully pressurized. Thirty seconds and Mars One Alpha is Go for launch.”
PAO, “Fifteen seconds. Twelve seconds, 10, 9, 8, guidance to internal, 6, 5, 4, ignition, 2, 1, the clock is running and we have liftoff of Mars One Alpha from Cape Canaveral Air Force Base at 6:48:32 a.m. Eastern Time.”
Even though four miles away, the roar of the Atlas’ thunderous exhaust shook the building. Jeff, Gabe, Abby and Susan sat transfixed, staring at the video wall as the rocket slowly rose into the dim morning light.
“Go baby,” Abby said. “Go!”
Susan elbowed Jeff in the ribs.
Jeff gasped, “Huh? What?”
“If you keep holding your breath you’re going to pass out and miss all the fun.”
He started breathing again. “Oops. Thanks.”
Susan grinned.
PAO, “We are at T plus 39 seconds, altitude five kilometers, velocity 497 meters per second, throttling down to 93%, roll and pitch programs commencing. Throttling down is for the purpose of minimizing dynamic pressure while the rocket rolls and pitches to its new heading.”
PAO, “At T plus 59 seconds, Mars One Alpha is at Max Q, the point of maximum dynamic pressure, roll and pitch are complete and we are throttling back up to 100%. Altitude is 12.8 kilometers, velocity 668 meters per second.”
“That was quick,” said Susan “There’s nothing left but a vapor trail.”
Jeff sighed. “Doesn’t take long, does it?”
“And that’s all there is to it?”
“Well, there’s lots more, but we won’t be seeing it. At least not this time.”
Abby shook her head. “Can you imagine being seated on the top of that?”
Susan groaned, “I’m trying not to.”
PAO, “At T plus 118 seconds we have solid rocket booster separation. Altitude is now 58.2 kilometers, velocity 1,212 meters per second, and all systems are Go. Mars One Alpha is changing call signs and is now Mars One Pathfinder.”
Jeff turned to Abby, Gabe and Susan. “Well, it’s a couple minutes before staging, then 3-1/2 hours of off-and-on Centaur burns before she’s actually headed for Mars. What do you guys want to do? I think I’ve lost the capacity for rational thought.”
They all glanced back and forth at one another for a minute.
“I have an idea,” Abby said.
“What?”
“Well, we can monitor the rest of this on the plane. And we’ve got three more launches in the next eight days. And we’ve been at this non-stop for three months since we got back from Gaucin. And Chrissie’s herding a flock of eggheads around the house…”
Jeff smiled, “Yeah, yeah, yeah… cut to the chase.”
“Okay, I say we fly over to New Orleans. It’s not in the itinerary, but screw the itinerary. We can be there by lunch. Let’s go get us some Creole shrimp, champagne and hotel rooms and sleep in. It’s not like we haven’t earned – and deserve – a day off. We can go back to Newport Monday.”
“Without Chrissie? What are you trying to do? Get me killed?”
“Eh, buy her a T-shirt.”
“Yeah, like that’ll help.” Jeff glanced at Gabe and Sue who both nodded.
“Hmmm.” Jeff hung his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s not an entirely bad idea. Alright, let’s go.”
Late Monday afternoon, Jeff, Gabe, Abby and Susan pulled to a stop at the front door of Wrentham House.
“Home again, home again,” said Jeff.
Abby stared out the Escalade’s window at the front door. “So, who gets to explain all this to Chrissie?”
Jeff smiled. “You.”
“No way.”
About that time the front door opened and out came Chrissie. As they all climbed out of the car, she stood on the front porch, arms crossed and tapping her toe on the tile. “New Orleans, huh? I’ll bet you didn’t even bring me a T-shirt.”
Jeff walked to the rear of the Escalade and opened the door. “Actually, I did.”
Chrissie frowned. “And you think that’ll make it all better?”
Jeff grinned at her. “No. But would you accept ten pounds of fresh Gulf jumbo shrimp, and another fifty pounds of frozen as additional payment?”
“You’re kidding?!” And she ran to join him.
Jeff patted the tops of two ice chests. “Nope. Help yourself.”
“Boy, do you know how to buy your way out of trouble.”
“Well, give us hand here and we can have some for dinner.”
“Deal!”
Tuesday, December 10, 2013 (T minus 833 days)
Jeff leaned back in his chair at the conference table, groaned and hung his head. “Oh god, Gabriel, we’ve covered this ground before.”
Gabe sighed. “I know, but we need to rethink it; six engines are much better than one. The difference in safety margin is huge. It gives us redundancy.”
“Yeah, I know, but it can’t be done. There are not twelve RL-10s available, and Pratt & Whitney can’t build that many that fast. It’s not an option, Gabe.”
“It is if we use 10B-2s on one vehicle and 10A-4-2s on the other.”
Jeff shook his head. “Only if we beg, borrow, or steal every engine in the pipeline for every planned launch for the next three years. That’s not gonna happen. And even if we could get them, they’d cost us their weight in gold. How would we pay for them?”
She frowned. “So our safety comes down to dollars?”
Jeff glared at her. “You know better than that! I would never put a price on our safety, but there’s a practical limit to what we can do. We’ve already got J-2s, and they cost us next to nothing. We can’t get RL-10s, and couldn’t afford them even if we could, and they wouldn’t work any better. The Apollo astronauts put their trust in the J-2, that’s good enough for me. The J-2 worked spectacularly on the S-IVB, it’ll work just as well on the EDS.”
“But…”
Abby, standing a few feet from Gabe, leaned back against the
wall and groaned, her impatience showing. “Jesus, Gabe, give it a rest! Like the boss said, we’ve been here before. Let’s move on.”
Gabe glanced at her and snarled, “I don’t recall asking for your opinion,” and immediately reached for her slide rule.
Jeff cringed. Uh oh, she’s losing it. He looked to his side at Susan, who rolled her eyes and shrugged. He decided to call a halt to the meeting, but wasn’t fast enough.
Abby leaped forward, screaming at Gabe and slapping the slide rule from her hands, “Will you put that goddamn thing down and just pay attention?” As the rule struck the floor the slide snapped in half.
Gabe stood for a moment staring at the broken rule in horror, then slowly knelt, gently picked up the broken pieces and clutched them to her bosom. Then she raised to her full height, towering over Abby, and socked her in the cheek. Abby crumpled to the floor, her head knocking a hole in the plasterboard wall. “Bitch!” screamed Gabe, as she turned and ran from the room sobbing.
Jeff leaped from his seat, “Shit!” Abby appeared unconscious. He glanced at Susan.
She jumped toward Abby. “I’ve got it.”
Jeff nodded and took off after Gabe. She had run out the front door and he finally caught up with her at the top of the drive where she was sitting on the ground, curled into a ball, clutching the broken slide rule and crying her eyes out. He knelt and put his arms around her.
Gabe, chest heaving with sobs, cried to him, “It’s broken, I can’t fix it.”
Jeff held her close, “I know. It’s okay; I’ll get you a new one. I promise.”
She looked up at him, tears streaming down her face, “I can’t do this.”
Jeff put his hands on her face and wiped the tears from beneath her eyes, “Yes you can. You’re one of the most brilliant minds on this planet. If you can’t do it, no one can. But you don’t have to do it alone. We’ll do it together, you and me, and Abby and Sue and Chrissie. We’re a team, we’re a family, and we’ll do it together.”
Gabe buried her head in Jeff’s shoulder and cried. He held her gently and let her get it out of her system. He refused to believe they were in over their heads.
After a while Jeff gently pulled Gabe to her feet and dusted her off. “You okay now?”
Gabe nodded and sniffed, “Yeah, I’m alright.”
“Okay.” He grinned at her. “That’s some right cross you’ve got. Let’s go see if Sue needs help extracting Abby from the wall.”
Jeff and Gabe returned to the conference room but found no one there. Jeff hollered down the hall, “Sue!”
“In the lab,” she yelled.
Gabe groaned, “Oh, God, what have I done?”
They hurried down the hall and into the lab. Sue was setting up the x-ray machine while Abby sat on the examining table, Chrissie holding an ice pack to her cheek.
Jeff stared at Abby, concerned. “How bad is it?”
Sue shook her head. “Oh, she’ll be fine, probably just a bruise and a bump on the head. But I’m going to take a couple x-rays just to make sure nothing is broken.”
Gabe, head bowed and still clutching the broken slide rule, slowly walked up to Abby. “I’m sorry.”
Abby gingerly shook her head. “Forget about it. I had it coming.”
Gabe sat beside Abby and put her arm around her.
Abby leaned her head on Gabe’s shoulder. “I’m sorry too. I swear I’ll never do anything like that again.”
Gabe hugged her.
Jeff sighed and nodded. “Alright then. Say, if you two are gonna kiss and make up, can I watch?”
Gabe glared at him. “Go away, or you’ll be next.”
Jeff grinned. “Yes, ma’am, on my way.” He turned and started out of the room. “I’ll be at the bar.”
Thursday, December 12, 2013 (T minus 831 days)
Jeff’s office intercom lit up on Chrissie’s line. “Boss, your one o’clock is at the gate.”
“Okay, thanks. On my way.” Jeff greeted his visitor at the front door and nodded in respect. “Salāmu `Alayka.”
“Wa-Alayaka As-Salām,” the gentleman replied, extending his hand to Jeff. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Captain Grey. You speak Arabic?”
Jeff smiled. “No, sir, just a few words.”
“Ah. I am Sheikh Salem Al-Fahad Al-Sabah, and I am the Director of the Kuwait Department of Aerospace.”
“The pleasure is all mine Sheikh. Please, come in.” Jeff showed the sheikh into the great room and offered him a seat.
“Your home is quite lovely, Captain.”
“Thank you sir, we find it comfortable. Forgive me, but I didn’t know Kuwait had an Aerospace Department.”
“It is a new and rather small department, consisting for the most part of, well, myself. I possess a degree in aeronautical engineering from Oxford, and my somewhat distant cousin, the Emir, humors me.”
“Ah. Well, Sheikh, every oak begins as an acorn.”
The sheikh smiled. “Exactly.”
“What can I do for you, sir?”
“Captain, I believe it is more a case of what I can do for you.”
“Really? And, how is that, Sheikh?”
“Captain, I am what some in the Arab world might call a ‘progressive’. From a technological perspective, many in the Western world look upon we Arabs as, uh, what is the word? Bumpkins?”
Jeff laughed. “Forgive me, sir.”
“That’s quite alright, Captain, a perfectly understandable reaction. Some in the Arab world would like to improve that image and, at the same time, hopefully improve relations with the West. Contrary to the viewpoint of many in the West, we are not all barbarians and terrorists, living in tents and longing for a return to the Dark Ages.”
“I’m not one that holds that viewpoint, Sheikh.”
“I can see that, sir. Besides your own country, I understand that your intended mission has attracted the interest of others; France, Russia, and I hear even China. Kuwait, representing the Arab world, is interested in, how do you say it? Getting in on the act?”
“Sheikh, the nations you mention have rather substantial aerospace programs and launch facilities. What did you have in mind?”
“Yes, of course. We are indeed lacking in such facilities. However, Captain Grey, what we do possess in substantial quantity is… money.”
Jeff smiled. “Ah.”
“Furthermore, Captain, it seems Kuwait owes you some debt of gratitude.”
“How is that, sir?”
“We have a mutual acquaintance, Senator Landers.”
“You know the senator, sir?”
“Yes, he has been most helpful in assisting our country with certain technological aide, particularly in the area of defense.”
Jeff nodded. “I see.”
“The senator informs me that you, at considerable peril to life and limb, aided in no small manner in the liberation and salvation of my nation’s oil fields during the Gulf War, and still bear the scars of your service on our behalf.”
“It was just my job, sir.”
“Be that as it may, Captain, we are most grateful. The senator also informs me that your mission is in need of some additional funding.”
Jeff smiled. “Well, sir, he’s right about that. This is a shoestring operation and two things we are always short of are time and money.”
“Understood. Captain, if I may be blunt, how much do you need?”
Jeff raised his eyebrows. “Ahem, well, Sheikh, that’s a little hard to say. There are a lot of intangibles.”
“Also understood. Perhaps a… ballpark figure?”
Jeff sighed deeply. “Well, sir, we’ve raised around $300 million in general contributions and grants, and the U.S. government, through NASA’s budget, has provided us with a one billion dollar loan guarantee, which I don’t think they expect us to repay. We’ve also received generous backing in terms of surplus systems and equipment from a variety of sources, and there are the international cooperative efforts you noted. And, of
course, there’s my personal investment in the project…”
“All that you have, I understand.”
Jeff smiled. “More or less. Still, there is a great deal left to be done. Offhand, I estimate we will need to come up with around another billion dollars.”
“A billion dollars?”
“Give or take.”
“Hmmm.” Sheikh Salem stared out the window for a minute. “Your view of the ocean is quite spectacular, Captain, in spite of the snow. I would imagine that during the summer months you spend a great deal of time enjoying the luxury of your… patio.”
“Not nearly as much as I would like, Sheikh. This job keeps me pretty busy.”
“Yes, but is it a job, Captain, or a passion?”
“By now, Sheikh, I fear it’s achieved the status of ‘obsession’.” Jeff shook his head. “Otherwise, I would have given up on it long ago.”
“Yes, I can imagine. Alright, Captain, you have your one billion dollars. If you’d care to have your bank contact my office, my secretary will see to it that the funds are transferred. Call it an investment in international cooperation.”
Jeff started coughing.
The sheikh leaned forward with a look of concern. “Are you alright, Captain?”
After a moment, Jeff got the coughing under control. “Yes, thank you. Ahem, wow. That’s, uh, very generous of you, sir.”
“It seems to be for a very good cause, Captain.”
“Thank you, sir.” Jeff rubbed his chin and thought for a moment. “Sheikh, please forgive me if this sounds rude but, what is it you want in return for this generosity?”
“A fair question, Captain. Only two things: first, I understand you intend to raise the flags of the various nations involved in this project on Mars.”
“Yes, sir, that’s correct.”
Sheik Salem picked up his briefcase, opened it, and handed Jeff a paper-wrapped package, emblazoned with the Kuwaiti coat of arms. “Captain, would you be so kind as to raise the flag of Kuwait as well?”
Jeff took the package. “Sir, it would be my honor. And, your second request?”
“Ah, yes. I understand you have a very interesting crew. I would very much like to meet them.”
Margaritifer Basin (Margaritifer Trilogy Book 1) Page 39
