Margaritifer Basin (Margaritifer Trilogy Book 1)

by Gregory Gates

  Abby grinned. “Alright, Captain, then let’s go flying.”

  Jeff nodded. “Okay, sounds good.”

  #

  Twenty minutes later, Molly stuck her head in the elevator. “Captain, Commander, we’re ready for you.”

  Jeff and Abby stood and followed her across the 65-foot gantry to the White Room where their helmets and gloves were refitted and suits once again pressure tested.

  When the Closeout Crewchief, Alain Ronald, was satisfied, he nodded. “All set?”

  Jeff and Abby both nodded.

  Alain smiled. “Alright. Commander, let’s get you seated and buckled up.”

  “Okay,” said Abby, who then turned toward the hatch and climbed in, followed by Alain.

  A few minutes later, Alain stuck his head through the hatch. “Captain, this way please.”

  Jeff sighed and grinned nervously. “Right.” He climbed through the hatch and settled into the center seat.

  At some point during their seemingly endless hours in the command module simulator, Jeff and Abby agreed that the Apollo era procedure of the command module pilot sitting navigator in the center seat and the mission commander sitting pilot in the left seat for launch, then swapping seats once they were in space, made no sense to them; particularly since the CM’s new glass cockpit flight information panels could be reconfigured to any mode – flight instrumentation, navigation, engineering – with the push of a button. Thus, Abby, as pilot-in-command, took the left seat; Jeff, as mission commander, the center command seat; and Gabe, flight engineer, the right-hand seat; while Susan sat in her rabbit hole beneath Jeff, boxed in by two crates of supplies that would be transferred to the Sundancer on arrival and, during Earth reentry, replaced by two three-foot long pressurized capsules, one of which they hoped would be occupied by a Martian.

  Alain wiggled his way around the CM, shaking everyone’s hand, then climbed over Jeff. “Good luck, God bless, and see you when you get back.”

  Jeff smiled. “Thank you, Alain. Will do.”

  And Alain climbed out of the capsule.

  Jeff keyed his radio. “Kennedy, Ares, we’re all seated and strapped in. Let’s get this show on the road.”

  KSC LCC CAPCOM, “Roger, Ares. T minus two hours, ten minutes and counting. Post ingress switch reconfiguration.”

  “Roger.” Jeff turned to Gabe. “Give her to us.”

  Gabe nodded, “Roger,” and reached forward and flipped a dozen switches. “Post ingress switch reconfig complete.”

  “Roger.” Jeff reached for the radio stack and switched to COM3. “Newport, Ares.”

  Newport MCC CAPCOM, “Newport, go ahead, Ares.”

  “Yeah, hi Chrissie. Um, Colonels Creighton and Creighton will be arriving at Quonset in a couple hours. I wonder if you could have someone pick them up, then give ‘em some comfortable quarters for the next few days – I believe my suite will be vacant for a while. They’ll stick around and provide some moral and technical support, if needed.”

  MCC CAPCOM, “Roger, Ares, will do.”

  “Thanks,” and Jeff switched back to COM1. He groaned. “Oh, ugh.”

  “What’s the matter?” said Susan.

  “My back hurts. And if this harness was any tighter, I couldn’t breathe.”

  Susan sighed. “Check your left sleeve pocket.”

  “Huh?”

  “I said, check – your – left – sleeve…”

  “I heard you. It was a rhetorical… ‘Huh’.”

  “Well, in that case, just shutup and do as I tell you.”

  Jeff grinned. “Yes ma’am.” He reached into his sleeve pocket and found a small envelope containing two white tablets. “Vicodin?”

  “Yes.”

  “You actually thought of this?”

  “Of course, it’s what you pay me for. Besides, you were complaining of back pain after the dress rehearsal, and I just thought…”

  “Good thinking.”

  “Take those and your back will feel better in a little while. However, I would advise against driving or operating heavy machinery for the next few hours.”

  Jeff laughed. “Sue, this ship weighs 4.8 million pounds. Does that not count as heavy machinery?”

  “Yes, it does. But Abby is flying and Gabe is operating. And you, I hope, are just sitting back, watching the blinking lights, and keeping your hands off the knobs, switches and buttons.”

  Jeff laughed even harder. “Okay.” He took the two tablets, leaned back and closed his eyes. “Somebody wake me up when we get there.”

  Abby chuckled and shook her head. “Or maybe we’ll just toss you out the door somewhere along the way.”

  Jeff leaned forward and glanced across the instrument panel. “Okay, I’m awake.”

  LCC CAPCOM, “T minus one hour thirty-five minutes. Verify all systems ready for crew module closeout.”

  Jeff keyed his radio. “Roger, standby.” He glanced to his left. “Abby?”

  “Go for closeout.”

  “Gabe?”

  “Go.”

  “Susan?”

  “Oh god.”

  “You okay?”

  “I’m terrified.”

  “Yes. Well in that, I don’t think you’re alone. But, are you ready for closeout?”

  “Yes.”

  Jeff nodded. “Kennedy, Ares, ready for CM closeout.”

  “Uh, roger, Ares, close CM hatch.”

  Molly stuck her head through the hatch. “Godspeed, guys. Please come back.”

  Jeff smiled. “That’s the plan, Molly. Thanks for everything, and we’ll see you on the flip side.”

  She smiled and nodded, and the Closeout Crew sealed the hatch.

  CAPCOM, “Commence cabin pressure verification.”

  Gabe keyed her radio switch. “Pressurizing.”

  CAPCOM, “T minus 40 minutes. Commence Ground Launch Sequence presequencing. Command module leak checks complete. Perform cabin vent.”

  “Roger,” said Jeff, “cabin vent.”

  CAPCOM, “We are at T minus 20 minutes and holding. This is a planned 10 minute hold. Clear Closeout Crew from the launch pad. All test personnel switch to channel 212. Initialize fuel cell purge.”

  Jeff rubbed his lips and stared at nothing in particular on the instrument panel. “Gabe?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “The first weekend we all met at Wrentham House? What was the countdown?”

  “Um… T minus 1,376 days.”

  “Hmmm, what is that? Something over three and a half years?”

  “Uh huh, three years, nine months, and a week.”

  “You think the next two and a half years will go by as quickly?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He took her hand and looked at her. “I’m looking forward to doing this, but I’m also looking forward to being done with it.”

  She gazed into his eyes. “Me too.”

  CAPCOM, “T minus 7 minutes 30 seconds, retract capsule access arm.”

  Jeff sighed. “Well Abby, there goes our last chance to step outside and have a cigarette.”

  She groaned. “Yeah. I don’t suppose you thought to bring a bottle of Scotch?”

  He patted his pockets. “Oops.”

  She glanced at him and shook her head. “Poor planning.”

  “Yeah.”

  CAPCOM, “T minus 6 minutes 15 seconds, Go for APU pre-start.”

  “Roger, APU pre-start,” said Gabe. She flipped the power switches for all three auxiliary power units and watched the gas generator temperature, turbine speed, and gearbox pressure gauges come up, and waited for the talkback indicators to show “Ready to Start.”

  CAPCOM, “T minus 5 minutes, Go for APU start.”

  “Roger, APU start.” Gabe flipped all three APU switches to Start/Run.

  Jeff glanced at the engineering display as hydraulic pressure came up and noticed Gabe’s gloved hand was shaking.

  “We’ve got hydraulics,” she said.

  Jeff nodded. “Roger. You
okay?”

  “No. I’m scared half to death.”

  He took her hand and squeezed it. “Come on, you’ve done this a hundred times.”

  “In the sim. It’s not the same thing.”

  CAPCOM, “T minus 2 minutes and counting. Close visors.”

  “Roger, visors,” said Jeff. “Okay everybody, close and lock visors.”

  Gabe moaned, “Oh god,” and started panting.

  “Gabe, stop it, you’re gonna hyperventilate in all this oxygen. Just close and lock, and pay attention to what you’re doing.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “Try harder.”

  She whimpered, “Okay,” and closed and locked her visor.

  CAPCOM, “T minus one minute 30 seconds and we are Go for launch.”

  Susan’s voice came over the intercom. “Gabe, Jeff didn’t say to stop breathing.”

  Gabe exhaled loud enough to be heard. “Sorry.”

  Jeff squeezed her hand again. “Just hang on. In 13 minutes we’ll be in orbit.”

  “You could have gone without saying that.”

  He chuckled.

  CAPCOM, “T minus one minute. Good luck Ares and Godspeed. Have a safe trip.”

  “Will do,” said Jeff, “and thank you. So long Earth, see you in two and a half years.”

  Gabe squeaked, “Ground power disconnect.” There was a bump. “Fuel valves closed.”

  “Roger.”

  “God damn,” said Abby, “it’s a good day to go flying.”

  Jeff glanced out the starboard window. “Yes it is. So, what say we go flying?”

  “Roger that.”

  CAPCOM, “T minus 31 seconds, Go for auto sequence start.”

  “Hey boss,” said Abby, “there’s your cue to panic.”

  He chuckled. “Roger, panic.”

  “SRB APUs running,” said Gabe.

  “Roger.”

  CAPCOM, “25 seconds.”

  Vibration. “SRB gimbal test.”

  “Roger.”

  CAPCOM, “20 seconds. Sound suppression water.”

  Jeff, still holding Gabe’s hand, grasped Abby’s with his other and held them down between the seats. Susan clasped their hands with both of hers and held on tight.

  CAPCOM, “15 seconds.”

  Jeff blinked as a bead of perspiration ran off his forehead and into his eye. “Okay, everybody hang on, here we go.”

  CAPCOM, “10, 9, 8, main engines start…”

  The ship shuddered.

  Gabe cried, “Main engines running!”

  CAPCOM, “… 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, SRB ignition…”

  The ship shook violently as seven and a half million pounds-force of thrust shoved it upwards.

  Gabe shrieked, “Oh dear god!”

  Jeff ignored her.

  CAPCOM, “… and we have Ares liftoff at 11:36:47 Eastern Daylight Time.”

  Jeff yelled, “The clock is running.”

  CAPCOM, “Tower cleared. So long Ares.”

  “Roger, Kennedy. Thanks. See you on the flip side.”

  Communications automatically transferred to the Newport MCC where Chrissie sat CAPCOM. Her remarkably calm and collected voice came over the radio. “Ares, Newport, good morning.”

  “Morning, Chrissie!”

  Abby yelled, “Roll program!”

  CAPCOM, “Roger, we’ve got your roll. How’s the ride?”

  “Bumpy!”

  CAPCOM, “Abby, you don’t have to yell, I can hear you.”

  “I’ll yell if I want to yell!”

  CAPCOM, “Okay.”

  With all the shaking, shimmying, and bumps, Jeff thought his fillings might come loose.

  Abby hollered, “1.5 g’s! Roll complete! Pitching!”

  The flight computer switched to secondary abort mode.

  “One Bravo,” said Jeff, “and Chrissie’s right, stop yelling. Gabe, are you still conscious?”

  “Barely.”

  “Sue, how you doing?”

  “I wet my pants.”

  “Yeah, okay. Well, no point in wasting a perfectly good diaper.”

  She laughed.

  “Throttling back to 92%,” said Abby.

  Jeff nodded. “Roger.”

  “And… max Q. Throttling up to 104%.”

  “Roger.”

  CAPCOM, “Ares, altitude’s 6.2 miles and you’re good to go at one minute. SRB separation in 43 seconds.”

  “Roger,” said Jeff. “Abby?”

  “Right down the pipe. Looking good.”

  “That’s comforting.”

  “You think?”

  “Come on, Abby, back off. Let’s just get into orbit, then we can relax for a while. One step at a time.”

  Abby sighed audibly. “Aye, aye, sir. 2.5 g’s.”

  “Oh god, it feels like there’s an elephant sitting on me.”

  “It’s gonna get worse.”

  “Yeah, I know. Gabe, would you say something every now and then just to let me know you’re still alive.”

  Gabe whimpered, “Like what?”

  “Okay, that’s something.”

  CAPCOM, “SRB sep in 10 seconds.”

  “Roger.”

  CAPCOM, “5, 4, 3, 2, 1.”

  Jeff groaned, “Ugh,” as the solid rocket boosters separated, acceleration almost instantaneously dropped from 2.5 to one g, and they were thrown forward into their shoulder harnesses. “SRB sep.”

  “Oh god!” cried Gabe. “That’s gonna leave a mark.

  “You think that was bad?” said Abby. “Just wait for staging.”

  CAPCOM, “We confirm SRB sep. At 2 plus 20 seconds we have you 39.9 miles downrange and, uh, 32 miles altitude. Velocity is 6,234 feet per second.”

  Jeff glanced at the flight instrumentation panel in front of Abby. “Roger. Abby?”

  “Looking good. 1.3 g’s, here comes the grape-crusher.”

  “Couldn’t we have left this part at home?”

  “’Fraid not.”

  “Sue, how we doing?”

  “Well, aside from everyone’s blood-pressure, pulse, and respiration being off the chart… we’re all fine.”

  “Sorry I asked.”

  “Wow,” said Abby.

  “What?”

  “It’s getting dark outside.”

  Jeff glanced passed her at the port window. “Yeah. Look at the edge of the atmosphere.”

  “It’s incredible.”

  CAPCOM, “At T plus 3 minutes we have you 70 miles downrange, 54.9 miles altitude, and, uh… 7,382 feet per second. Thrust is good on all engines and you’re looking good, Ares. Escape tower jettison in 10 seconds.”

  “Well ladies, any abort from here on will be to orbit.”

  Gabe groaned. “Well, you wanted to go into space.”

  “Uh, yeah. Um, Newport, tower’s gone.”

  CAPCOM, “Roger, tower.”

  CAPCOM, “Ares, you are Go at 4 minutes. 170 miles downrange, 68.4 miles altitude, and 9,514 feet per second.

  “Roger.” Jeff smiled, glanced out the window, and shook his head. “Boys and girls, welcome to space. We made it.”

  Abby gasped, “Oh my god! I’m an astronaut!” She grabbed Jeff’s arm and shook it. “Thank you!”

  He patted her hand. “No. Thank you. Thank you all.”

  CAPCOM, “Ares, Newport, you are Go at 5 minutes. 269 miles downrange, 83.4 miles altitude, 12,470 feet per second. Looking good for staging at 6 plus 20.”

  “Roger.”

  “2 g’s,” said Abby.

  “Roger. Gabriel? Feeling any better?”

  “Yes, thank you. Much.”

  “Good. How we doing?”

  “Everything looks good. All engines running hot and normal. Standing by for staging.”

  “Roger. Newport, Ares, please convey our thanks to FLIGHT. She’s a fine ship.”

  CAPCOM, “Roger, Ares. Wish you could see the grin on her face.”

  Jeff smiled. “Yeah. Somebody take a picture.”

  CAPCOM, “
WILCO.”

  Abby groaned, “2.5 g’s.” She rubbed her chest. “Oh god that hurts. I don’t think I’ve been this flat-chested since I was ten.”

  Jeff laughed. “Another 30 seconds or so and they’ll pop back out.”

  “God, I hope so.”

  CAPCOM, “Ares, you’re Go at 6 minutes. 400 miles downrange, 94 miles altitude, 16,442 feet per second. Go for staging in 15 seconds and, uh, standby for Mode IV.”

  “2.8 g’s.”

  “Roger, Mode IV and 15 seconds.”

  CAPCOM, “Mark. Mode IV.”

  “Oh god,” said Gabe, “that’s a relief.”

  “Yeah, 2nd stage or service module, now we can make it to orbit with either.”

  “3.2 g’s.”

  “Newport, Ares, inboard shutdown.”

  CAPCOM, “Roger, we confirm inboard shutdown.”

  “Hang on,” said Abby, “this is gonna hurt.”

  “And… staging.”

  Susan yelped. “Ouch!”

  Abby chuckled. “Yep. That’s worse than slamming on the brakes in Jeff’s Aston Martin.”

  CAPCOM, “Roger. Copy staging.”

  “And… ignition.”

  CAPCOM, “Confirm ignition. Thrust is Go. You’re looking good.”

  “Confirm ignition?” said Abby. “I swear to god, when we get home I’m gonna slap her. 0.7 g’s.”

  Jeff chuckled. “Now, be nice. She’s just doing her job. Um, Newport, we’ve got skirt sep.”

  CAPCOM, “Ares, Newport, roger, skirt sep, and you are Go at 7 minutes. 531 miles downrange, 105 miles altitude, and velocity is 19,030 feet per second.”

  “Ares, roger.”

  CAPCOM, “Uh, SURGEON says y’all seem a bit nervous. How’s everyone holding up?”

  “Yeah, um, I think we’re all doing a bit better than we were a couple minutes ago. It takes a few minutes to get the hang of this. We all gave a great sigh of relief at Mode IV and, uh, it’s great to be in space. Hell of a view out the window. Once we’re in orbit, we’ll take a few snapshots and send ‘em down. How are things there in Newport?”

  CAPCOM, “Um, I think ‘elation’ would be an appropriate word.”

  Jeff chuckled. “Roger that.”

  CAPCOM, “Ares, Newport, predicted cutoff is at 10 plus 40.”

  “Uh, roger, 10 plus 40. Newport, how are we looking for intercept?”

  “Yeah, Ares, um, at SECO, Sundancer should be about 53 nautical miles behind you and closing at around 70 feet per second. Looks like you’ll have about a 76-minute wait. We’ll have a better estimate following SECO and, uh, orbital verification with ground radar.”