“That’s it?”
“Yes, Captain, that is… it.”
“Huh. Well, sir, that can certainly be arranged. Excuse me a moment.” Jeff pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Chrissie’s number. “Yeah, grab everyone and get up here… now!” Jeff hung up and turned back to the sheikh. “It’ll be just a moment, sir.”
Shortly, Gabe, Abby, Susan and Chrissie appeared at the door. Jeff motioned them in and began to make introductions. When Abby started to step forward and extend her hand, Jeff caught her eye and quickly shook his head. She paused, bowed slightly, and stepped back.
“Salāmu `Alaykunna,” said the sheikh. “It is a pleasure to meet you all. I have noticed in my travels that American women are not like Arab women. That is not necessarily a bad thing. Go with God, and good luck.” The sheikh turned to Jeff. “I shall take my leave of you now. Our business is concluded and I know you are a busy man, Captain. I shall take no more of your time.”
Jeff walked Sheikh Salem to his car. “Thank you again, Sheikh. I don’t know what to say.”
“Just come back alive, Captain Grey.”
“We’ll do our best, sir.”
“Oh, that reminds me, there is one other item.”
“Yes, sir?”
The sheikh reached into his coat pocket and produced a small, leather-bound book, and held it out to Jeff. “This is my personal Qur’an, it was given me by my father, who received it from his father… and so on. Perhaps, Captain, you would take it with you and… bring it back?”
Jeff turned the book over in his hand; it appeared very old. “Certainly, Sheikh, I think I can find a place for this in the manifest. Of course, whether or not I bring back is in the hands of Allah.”
The sheikh smiled. “I would be most grateful, Captain. And, good luck to you.” And he got in his car and departed.
Jeff watched the car turn down the drive and disappear, and then walked back into the house, closing the door behind him.
“What the hell was that all about?” said Abby.
“The government of Kuwait just gave us a grant of one billion dollars.”
“Holy shit!”
“Yeah.”
“What was that business with the handshake?”
“In business, Arab men do not shake hands with women.”
“Really?”
“You’ll get over it.”
“Boss, for a billion dollars I’ll shake his… well, never mind.”
“Uh huh.” Jeff smiled. “What are you all standing here for? Get back to work.”
“A billion dollars, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah.”
Saturday, December 14, 2013 (T minus 829 days)
“MOD, FLIGHT, how we doing?”
“FLIGHT, at this time Canaveral LCC is reporting Go for launch on all pads. T minus 28 minutes and counting for Mars One Bravo on LC-40.”
Chrissie looked around the MCC and nodded. “Alright everyone, buckle up and suck it in. This is the real thing. FIDO?”
“Go, FLIGHT.”
“GUIDANCE?”
“Go, FLIGHT.”
“GC?”
“GC is Go.”
“PROP?”
“Go, FLIGHT”
“GNC?”
“Go.”
“MAX?”
“Go, FLIGHT.”
Chrissie worked her way around the MCC. Having received a “Go” from each station, she turned to Jeff and smiled.
Jeff returned the smile, nodded, and mouthed the words, “Go, FLIGHT.” He sat in the back of the MCC with Gabe and Susan, acknowledging this was Chrissie’s show and, as much as he wanted to jump in and take part, she had to do it alone because next time they would be the cargo and she would be on her own. Seated with them was SURGEON, Rebecca Stockman. As there was no crew in this launch, her job was superfluous and Abby had commandeered her console in case of a malfunction in the auto-docking sequence, necessitating Abby’s taking manual control and docking the spacecraft herself.
“Three near-simultaneous launches,” said Gabe. “Why did we have to try something that’s never been done before?”
Jeff shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe because there was no other way?”
“Maybe we should have found a way.”
“Didn’t we try that?”
“Maybe we should have tried harder.”
Jeff rolled his head toward her. “I think we’re a little beyond that now. Don’t you? What say we just keep our fingers crossed and pray that we know what we’re doing?”
The PAO, Heidi Christianson, was seated just a few feet in front of Jeff, making it easy to hear her commentary.
PAO, “We are at T minus 26 minutes and counting. Launch Control at Cape Canaveral reports the Falcon 9 Heavy, Mars One Bravo, on pad 40 is Go for launch. Mars One Bravo will be launching the first heavy lift to Mars. It’s payload, contained within an aerodynamic bent biconic lifting body, includes three human habitable modules, the first group of nine that will eventually comprise the Mars station; 13,000 pounds of food; a Mars rover capable of completely autonomous operation; a surface exploration trailer, capable of accommodating two crew members for several weeks; a twelve kilowatt solar cell array; and a Sabatier process plant for the production of water and fuel on Mars.”
“FLIGHT, MOD, Canaveral’s Launch Control Director wants to talk to you on channel-C.”
Julio Mendoza, MOD, sat next to the PAO, right in front of Jeff, and could be overheard easily. Chrissie was a row further up and Jeff could only hear her when the room was otherwise quiet. He watched intently as she spoke and listened, occasionally nodding her head.
After a minute, Chrissie announced, “All stations, FLIGHT, Canaveral has instituted an unscheduled weather hold at T minus 20.”
“Crap.” Jeff started to get out of his chair, but Susan grabbed his arm.
“No. Not your job. Let Chrissie handle it.”
Jeff glared at Susan, but after a moment his glare turned into a sigh of resignation and he nodded and sat back down.
“Just let her do her job.”
“Sorry, you’re right.”
Chrissie removed her headset, dropped it on the console and walked back to Jeff. “Okay, here’s the deal. We’ve got high upper atmosphere shear winds at Canaveral. We’re still within the envelope and could get Bravo off, but the next few hours are really iffy. I don’t want to launch Bravo if there’s any chance we can’t follow up with Charlie and Delta. Tomorrow looks a bit better, though there’s still some question. After that we’ve got three days of probable bad weather, which leaves us with only the 19th, the last day of the window. After that, we drop back ten and punt. If we’re going to scrub today’s launch, the sooner we do it, the more time we have to prepare for tomorrow. So, unless you have an objection, I’m gonna call it now, and we’ll try again tomorrow.”
Jeff nodded. “Any objection I might have is irrelevant. It’s your call.”
Chrissie nodded, returned to her console, and got back on her headphones. The room was dead quiet as she spoke with Cape Canaveral Launch Control. Jeff could only hear her side of the conversation.
“Okay.
“Yeah, we agree.
“Well, you know Thursday is our drop-dead day.
“Right.
“Okay, that works for us.
“Right, then I’ll talk to you later.” She removed her headphones and spoke to the room. “Alright, everyone, listen up. We are scrubbing today’s launch. High shear winds aloft and the next few hours don’t look good. We’ll try again tomorrow. We don’t know what time, but stay close to your phone, and stay sober. We’ll let you know just as soon as we know. So, everybody stand down.” Chrissie turned around, looked at Jeff and shrugged.
Jeff nodded and crooked his finger at her, then called Abby over as well. The three of them, along with Gabe and Susan, huddled in the back of the MCC. Jeff gently grabbed Chrissie’s shoulder and gave her a smi
le and a little shake. “Good job. And, for what it’s worth, I agree with your call.” He looked around at each of them. “Still, we’ve got two more opportunities to get this off the ground. But if it doesn’t happen by close of business Thursday, well, I think the five of us are going to have to sit down and have a serious talk about our next move; beginning with whether or not there is a next move.”
The other four nodded in understanding.
“Okay. Chrissie, what’s the prognosis at the Cape?”
“Their meteorologist is gonna take a look at it and get back to me in an hour or so. I’ll know more then.”
“Alright. Well, for what it’s worth, here’s my two cents. If we’ve only got a small window, I’d just as soon take a crack at Plan B rather than wait till Thursday and face the possibility of a complete washout.”
Chrissie groaned, “Oh, jeez. They’re not gonna like that.”
“I know, I don’t like it either, but they said it was possible. All we need is fifteen minutes and we can get all three into space and stop having to worry about what Mother Nature is gonna do next.”
“Okay, but I can’t make them do it. I can only ask.”
“Understood. But if it comes to that, hold their feet to the fire. These launches don’t get off and it’s no skin off their nose, no money out of their pocket, and they’re all gonna go home and get a good night’s sleep, and collect their regular paychecks next Friday. For us… well, you know how that sentence ends.”
Chrissie nodded. “Why don’t we wait and talk to their weather-guesser, and then we’ll see.”
“Okay.”
An hour later Chrissie approached Jeff with a scowl.
He grimaced. “Uh oh. You don’t look happy.”
She shook her head. “It’s not good. Tomorrow is looking bad and the storm that’s due in on Monday is stringing out and could easily spill over into Thursday.”
Jeff rubbed his forehead. “What do you recommend?”
“Well, Plan B. I don’t see where we have a choice.”
Jeff nodded. “Agreed. Okay, call in your crew. We’ll go to the mattress here – I’ll send Gabe and Sue out and get some stuff – and we’ll man up whenever we need to and when we have a window, we’ll launch.”
Chrissie nodded. “Okay. I’ll go give the Launch Directors the bad news.”
Jeff found Gabe, Sue and Abby in the kitchen throwing together an early lunch. “We’re going with Plan B. Gabe, Sue, I need you to run into town and get mattresses – foam or air will probably do – and sleeping bags for the MCC crew. Chrissie is going to bring everyone back to spend the night here. We’ll man up when we think we’ve got a window approaching, go with a short count and, six minutes later everything’s in the air.”
“Holy shit,” said Abby.
“Don’t have much choice at this point. Mother Nature doesn’t seem to want us to go to Mars, so we need to wait for her to slip up and go when she’s not looking.” Jeff sighed deeply. “Let’s make it happen.”
Jeff woke with a start. He rolled over and glanced at the clock, a little past 2:00 a.m., and reached for the ringing phone. “Yeah?”
“Boss, Chrissie. Canaveral is looking at a weather window between six and seven this morning. They’re picking up on a four-hour countdown right now. With the planned holds, that should give us a launch time of around 6:25. I’m gonna raise the troops and man up.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll be down in a minute.”
The MCC was already buzzing with activity as Jeff dropped into a seat in the back beside Gabe. “Good morning.”
“Is it morning yet?”
“Technically. Nice outfit. I’ll bet no one at the Cape is wearing a bathrobe and slippers.”
Gabe grinned sheepishly. “I’ll go up and change in a minute, I just wanted to see where we were.”
“And where’s that?”
“T minus three hours forty-seven minutes and counting.”
“Dear god, can we please get this launch off? I’m getting tired of looking at new gray hairs in the mirror every morning.”
Gabe laughed gently and patted his hand. “This is the day. I feel it.”
“Hope you’re right.”
For the next three and a half hours Jeff sat fidgeting in the back of the MCC, following the countdown, Heidi’s PAO commentary, and watching the Cape Canaveral weather radar displayed on one of the screens up front. The countdown clock on the mission parameters screen now read “T – 00:16:32.”
Susan leaned back and stretched and rolled the kinks out of her neck. “You look like you’re about to have kittens. Want another cup of coffee?”
Jeff shook his head. “No, I think I’m adequately wired. Thanks anyway.”
PAO, “We are at T minus sixteen minutes and counting. In twelve minutes, launch control at Cape Canaveral will institute a planned ten-minute hold to fine-tune the on-time launch sequence.”
“I hate those planned holds,” Jeff said. “I wish to God they’d just get on with it.”
Gabe patted Jeff’s shoulder. “Don’t have an apoplexy. Nobody’s ever done this before, give ‘em a few minutes to get it right.”
Jeff laughed. “Except for sub-launched ICBMs, I don’t think anyone has ever even thought about trying this before.”
“Well?”
Jeff turned to her and smiled. “Well… at least I’m not jumping up and down, screaming.”
“That’s a good thing.”
PAO, “We are now in a planned ten-minute hold at T minus four minutes on Mars One Bravo, T minus seven minutes on Mars One Charlie and T minus ten minutes on Delta. Launch Operations is making final adjustments to the guidance parameters, burn and staging times on all three rockets to ensure matched orbits and intercept timing. Intercept timing is particularly critical as the docking maneuvers – and there are two of them – each take approximately three minutes, and there is only three minutes between each launch. The vehicle RCS – Reaction Control System – can place each vehicle in a holding pattern to accommodate some adjustment in docking timing. However, each payload RCS has a limited amount of fuel and the closer the intercept and docking times, the better.”
Jeff sat nervously, mesmerized by the video image broadcast from atop the former Space Shuttle gantry tower on pad 39A at the Kennedy Space Center looking southeast to the launch pads at Cape Canaveral. Two miles away on pad LC-41 stood Mars One Charlie, an Atlas V HLV. A mile and a half beyond at LC-40 was Mars One Bravo, a Falcon 9 Heavy. And another two miles further down the beach on LC-37B stood Mars One Delta, a Delta IV Heavy. The long telephoto lens compressed the image depth-of-field, making the three rockets appear much closer together than they actually were. “Damn, I wish I was there.”
“You’d just be in the way,” Gabe said. “Besides, your job is here.”
“What job? We’re just sitting here in the bleachers.”
“Well, you never know, we may need you for something.”
Jeff turned to her and grinned. “Like what? CPR practice?”
PAO, “The countdown has recommenced at T minus four minutes and counting. Automatic sequencing for Mars One Bravo will initiate in 40 seconds. Safety and abort checks are complete and we are Go for launch.”
Gabe took Jeff’s hand and squeezed it. “You’re about to make history.”
“We are about to make history. I hope it’s good history.”
The minutes and seconds ticked by, the eerie silence in the MCC broken only by Heidi’s commentary.
PAO, “We are Go for launch at T minus thirty seconds. Power transfer is complete on Bravo, Charlie automatic sequencing will commence in twenty seconds.”
PAO, “Fifteen seconds. Twelve seconds, 10, 9, 8, guidance to internal, 6, 5, 4, ignition, 2, 1, zero, all engines are running and we have LIFT OFF of Mars One Bravo from Cape Canaveral Air Force Station at 6:23 a.m. Eastern Standard Time.”
Knowing what was coming next, Jeff smiled in stunned admiration at the restrained, professional reaction of the
MCC team. Chrissie had done her job and trained them well.
PAO, “Tower cleared, control switching to Newport.”
FLIGHT, “All stations, FLIGHT, that bird is ours.”
MOD, “Canaveral, Newport, we’ve got it.”
FDO, “Roll program commencing.”
PAO, “T minus two minutes and forty seconds. Charlie is Go for launch.”
FDO, “We’re good at T plus fifty, altitude one mile.”
PAO, “T minus two minutes on Charlie, five minutes on Delta. We are Go for launch. Bravo is at Max Q, running hot and true.”
PROP, “Throttle up.”
PAO, “Charlie, T minus sixty seconds.”
PROP, “Bravo, inboard engine cutoff.”
PAO, “T minus twenty-five seconds on Charlie, Bravo has shutdown its inboard engine to limit acceleration. Automatic sequencing has commenced on Delta. Delta is Go for launch.”
PAO, “Fifteen seconds. Twelve seconds, 10, 9, 8, guidance to internal…”
FDO, “MECO (main engine cutoff) and staging on Bravo.”
PAO, “… ignition, 2, 1, zero, all engines are running and we have LIFT OFF of Mars One Charlie at 6:26.”
FDO, “Bravo second stage ignition and running.”
PAO, “Charlie has cleared the tower.”
MOD, “Canaveral, Newport, we have Charlie.”
FLIGHT, “All stations, FLIGHT, Charlie belongs to us.”
Gabe gasped, “Wow! Look at that!”
Jeff caught a glimpse of the image from the Cape as his eyes danced over the flurry of activity in the MCC. Two enormous plumes of smoke left by the burning rocket-grade kerosene slowly drifted off the launch pads. Between them stood Mars One Delta. Two down, one to go.
GUIDANCE, “Fairing jet on Bravo.”
PAO, “Mars One Bravo has jettisoned it’s payload fairing at T plus 200 seconds, exposing the bent biconic lifting body aeroshell that 308 days from now will enter Mars atmosphere and guide the first cargo of the Grey Aerospace Mars Mission to its landing site in the Margaritifer Basin. Mars One Delta is Go for launch at T minus two minutes and forty seconds.”
FDO, “Charlie coming up on Max Q. Standby for throttle down at T plus 59 seconds.”
Margaritifer Basin (Margaritifer Trilogy Book 1) Page 40
