T-Minus Two

by K. G. MacGregor

  She’d thought all along she’d team with Marlon, but never had she actually promised to do so. “I’ve been watching her. She got a perfect score in concentration. Sailed through the dexterity tests. Nailed the underwater exercise and then kept six people from being killed down on the dock.”

  “I did all those things too. Not the incident on the dock, but you know I would have handled it the right way.”

  “I know. All of us would have because we were trained that way at NASA. She did it without the training. And the propulsion system we’ll use to get to Mars—that’s her design.”

  He shook his head, clearly not buying any of it.

  “Look, Marlon. You asked me if it was because she was a lesbian. The answer’s no. But the fact that she’s a woman…that mattered to me more than I thought. When it came down to finally having to choose, it was about more than teamwork. It was about living with somebody for the rest of my life. I had to go with what made me comfortable.”

  A staffer poked her head out the door to signal them. “We’re getting ready to start.”

  Marlon tightened his lips and sighed. “I hear you, Jancey. I thought we had the best shot.”

  “You and Jean-Paul will be tough to beat. And Mila mentioned something that made a lot of sense—the committee’s more likely to choose an international team. I expect all four of us to make it to Mars one day.”

  The common area in Building A had been configured classroom style with four long tables angled to face a podium and screen. Jancey took the open seat on the back row next to Mila, whom she now looked at in a whole new light. Intelligent, capable, determined.

  Intriguing.

  Do not go there. There was work to do.

  Eight teams. Sixteen finalists down from over forty thousand. From the day she’d sent in her application, she always knew deep down she’d be sitting here. She’d never imagined it would be with a twenty-seven-year-old woman with zero space experience. A foolish move? Time would tell. Six weeks to be exact. Probably sooner, since Mila would show her mettle as soon as they began their preparations. Dreams weren’t enough. She’d have to put them aside and focus on the task at hand. Jancey would see that she did.

  Dr. V paced the floor at the front of the room as he spoke. “The analog trial isn’t only a test of survivability. It’s a test of prosperity. After all, that is the objective of colonization—to prosper. Which team is likely to grow the most crops? Produce the most energy? Successfully complete all the experiments that will help us prepare for future colonization?”

  Beyond the performance of those duties, the selection committee also would look for signs of cooperation and effective teamwork. Did your partner lose weight or muscle mass? Were the workloads balanced? Were there any signs of discord? They would show up quickly in an isolated habitat.

  Success on Mars would take an all-out effort and that’s what the committee wanted to see in the analog trial. Six exhausting weeks that would prove which team deserved the first two seats on Tenacity.

  “More than anyplace on Earth, the barren slopes of Mauna Kea are uniquely suited to Mars analog training. The soil—if you can call it that—is rich in volcanic mineral deposits, but none that are amenable to plant life, so all of our crops must be grown indoors with hydroponics.”

  They’d have to use grow lights, which would draw heavily on their limited power supply, to say nothing of their water.

  “At eleven thousand feet, you can expect thirty percent less oxygen. Temperatures range from a balmy ten degrees Celsius during the day to below freezing at night. However, atmosphere and temperature will be irrelevant on Mars, since all of your extravehicular activities will require a spacesuit. To simulate that on Mauna Kea, you’ll be required to don one of those every time you exit the habitat. It will not be pressurized or temperature controlled, so dress accordingly underneath.”

  Jancey had never practiced planetary EVAs. Like most NASA astronauts, the bulk of her training had taken place in the Neutral Buoyancy Lab, underwater for up to eight hours a stretch working on simulated repairs in space.

  “As you know,” Dr. V continued, “communications from Mars must travel hundreds of millions of miles through space. Accordingly, your questions—no matter how critical—will require a minimum of twenty minutes for a response. You will find the same delays in your Internet usage, so do not allow yourself to get sucked into click-bait. You’ll receive a daily newsletter apprising you of world events—this world, that is—which will allow you to keep up with the Kardashians.”

  Jerry laughed. “That’s the main reason I want to go to Mars—to get away from those people.”

  His quip was worth a chuckle, but it resonated with Jancey in a decidedly serious way. The world was a mess. Global war, economic and social inequality worldwide. An abuse of nature that threatened to drown its cities and turn out the lights forever. The Tenacity Project wasn’t only about venturing into space. It would lay the foundation for how Earth’s inhabitants might have to live in the future, their air unbreathable and their resources depleted.

  Dr. V commenced a slideshow with an artist’s rendering of the Mars colony, and asked everyone to follow along in their training manual. “This is a repeat of the presentation you saw on the first day of orientation, but now the details will come together.”

  They reviewed the timetable. Two launches of equipment and life support systems, one of which was already en route. Robotic construction of an underground habitat. Manned flights at one-year intervals.

  “If everything goes as planned, you will arrive on Mars to find your underground home already built. It will be up to you to secure the proper seals and connections that will allow you to maintain life support throughout the structure, and to activate your power and water supply.”

  Nothing ever went as planned but that’s why they trained—to overcome equipment failures. Maintenance of the life support units was their top priority, another reason she’d be glad to have Mila on her team.

  “You remember this slide.” Tenacity en route to Mars, the first illustration they were shown on orientation day. Using a laser pointer, he described the various segments of the vessel. “During launch and landing on Mars, you will occupy this cone-shaped module. If you look closely, you’ll see that it’s identical to the life-support units that will already be operational on Mars, and in fact, that’s what it is. It isn’t designed for long-term occupancy. It’s quite small, containing two ergonomic seats around an instrument panel. Those seats, by the way, will be detachable so you can use them in your living area on Mars.”

  “Don’t expect to hit the ground running,” Jancey offered. “After eight months in zero gravity, just expect to hit the ground.”

  “Absolutely right,” Marlon said. “It took me three days to walk on Earth again after being on the ISS for five months.”

  It pleased her to hear him speak up in response to something she said, and she turned to see a hint of a smile that made her both happy and sad. She shouldn’t have blindsided him like that, but her decision to go with Mila had come at the last second. Besides, she hadn’t been sure it would even happen. If Mila had given up on her and named someone else first, Jancey would have ended up with Marlon as her second choice.

  “During your eight-month trip to Mars, you will live inside this second segment, which we’ll call the travel habitat. Practically speaking, it’s only a bit larger than your average cargo van. One of your fellow finalists, Jean-Paul Robillard, helped us create a design that maximized our usable space. As you can see, that space includes a sleeping chamber large enough for two”—the slideshow continued with sketches of the interior design—“a lavatory, exercise equipment, a galley and a very small common area for laboratory experiments and leisure. The sleeping chamber doubles as a radiation shelter in the event of a solar flare, which you can expect periodically throughout your trip.”

  Missing from the neat illustrations were the dozens of Velcro patches needed to keep their hand tools and
implements from floating around in zero gravity. It had taken Jancey a year after returning from her mission to break her habit of wanting to stick everything to the wall.

  She eyed the rendering with relief, increasingly convinced she and Mila were ideal for this mission. They were fifty pounds lighter than any other team, took up less space and required fewer calories to maintain their muscle mass. Of the final teams, only two others—the Norwegians and the Fagans—contained both an engineer and an expert on food production. There was no better combination of skills for laying the foundation of a colony. All they had to do was prove they were more capable than anyone else.

  “By this time, I’m sure you’re ready for me to shut up about Mars and tell you what you’re in for on Mauna Kea. The reason I’ve taken the time to go over these points is because we’ve melded some of the elements of your eight-month travel with your duties upon reaching the planet. Over the next few days, you and your partner will construct your habitat on the eastern slope, a geodesic dome approximately the same size as the travel habitat on Tenacity, and with many of the same features. Tall enough that you can stand in the center, and just barely large enough to hold everything you need.”

  The slideshow advanced to an actual photograph of one of the domes, and then to its interior, where one of the staffers sat at the worktable to illustrate just how tiny the habitat was. More than anything, it underscored the significance for Jancey of choosing the right teammate for the mission. Sharing such a small space with Mila would be difficult. Sharing it with Marlon would have been impossible.

  “After putting your dome kit together, you’ll stock it with food sufficient for six weeks and a week’s ration of water, which will be replenished by staff at regular intervals. On the day you begin the trial, staff will deliver outside each habitat the assembly kits for solar panels and hydroponic food production. You’re to set those up immediately and put them to use. We’ll have a workshop tomorrow on how that’s done.”

  There had to be more to it than that. It wasn’t feasible to limit their air supply, but none of the other tests had been as straightforward as this.

  All around her, the other candidates were exchanging curious looks, as though waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  “Ah, yes…there’s always a catch,” he added with a chuckle. “Do not be surprised to arrive and discover some of your equipment is not working as it should. Or that part of your food supply is tainted. Expect a solar flare. Or two. Or ten. The message for the next six weeks is to be prepared for anything. Monitor and maintain your equipment as though your life depended on it. Once you leave this earth, it will.”

  * * *

  OMG !!! OMG !!!!! OMG !!!!!!! JANCEY BEAUMONT PICKED ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :-D

  In one brief message, Mila had managed to violate all four of Vio’s email peeves by using an Internet acronym, all caps, excessive exclamation points and an emoticon. A video chat was out of the question, since their project-issued tablet computers were now programmed to delay Internet activity for twenty minutes.

  Five days of training and construction followed by six weeks in a tiny freezing bubble with hardly any oxygen. I CAN’T W8 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  Jancey had barely spoken to her since the selection, opting to sit with the other NASA astronauts during dinner, which was real food for a change. Roasted pork, potatoes, peas and pineapple. Four P’s that didn’t include poi. Only fitting, since they probably were still drinking recycled pee.

  The bedroom door opened and Mila hit the Send key on her message. In the same instant, she swung her feet off the desk and sat up straight as if at attention.

  “Why haven’t you put your things away?” Jancey asked. By her exasperated tone, she might as well have added you lazy twit.

  “I was waiting to see which side of the room you wanted.”

  Jancey launched into an elaborate display of incredulity complete with an eye roll, head shaking and deep, indulgent sigh. “For the love of the Big Banger himself, Todorov. Which of these two identical sides should I choose?”

  “It depends on your preference,” Mila said evenly, hoping Jancey would appreciate her attention to detail. “That side has an extra power outlet, plus the thermostat and the drawstrings for the blinds. I would have given you those automatically, except the mattress on the other bed appears to be new.”

  With a snort, Jancey tossed her belongings onto the newer mattress. “I don’t care about the outlet or the thermostat. Leave the blinds closed.”

  Mila wasn’t sure how much freedom she had to talk, or how casual she was allowed to be. Jancey was single-mindedly dedicated to the analog trial and so was she, but that was no reason not to be friendly. On the other hand, Jancey might view an attempt at conversation as an invasion of privacy, or worse, a sign that she was more interested in socializing than in preparing for their trial. A better use of her time was reviewing the technical materials for the solar panels and hydroponic gardens.

  “Those probably won’t do us much good,” Jancey said. “We won’t have all the pieces, or the pieces won’t fit, or everything will fit but nothing works.”

  “Did you find that to be true on Guardian?”

  “Yes and no. NASA tests all the equipment a million times and they’re meticulous about packing everything you need in a repair kit. But what if the only wrench that fits goes drifting off out of reach? Then you have to improvise. When I had that emergency with the Russians…I was able to reach their vessel, but we couldn’t dock because both of us had male ports. Ended up using my robotic arm as a lasso and then I had to escort them into my airlock.”

  “I know. Trust me, I read every word that was ever written about that, including the congressional report. It was amazing. What you did…you really were a hero.” Despite her intention of talking only when necessary, Mila couldn’t stop her feelings from spilling out. “I’ve looked up to you ever since I was thirteen years old. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably still be in Europe teaching physics at some university. I don’t know what made you change your mind about me, but I’m glad you did, because going to Mars with you will be the greatest privilege of my life.”

  Her fears were realized when Jancey scowled and shook her head. “I don’t want to be your idol, or your commander either. Don’t sit there and wait for me to tell you what to do. Learn your job and do it.”

  “I will.” Shit. That wasn’t at all the impression she’d wanted to make. “I didn’t mean for you to think I wanted to be your little helper. I only wanted to make sure no one else would try to turn either of us into theirs. I’ve worked with mostly men ever since I started college and that’s what they do. Every time they’re with women, they feel entitled to take over. Even when they’re total idiots.”

  “Especially if they’re total idiots.” Jancey softened a little around the eyes. “I’ve seen it too, especially at the universities where I taught after NASA killed the long-term space program. Marlon and those guys…they’re not as bad as the men in academia, but that’s because our jobs at NASA were compartmentalized. Each of us trained for very specific tasks. That’s one of the things I like about Tenacity. Everyone is expected to do it all. You and I”—she wagged her finger between them—“we need to be interchangeable.”

  “Exactly. That’s another reason I wanted to be your partner. You’re one of the world’s leading experts on making food out of thin air. I want to learn that from the best.”

  When Jancey dumped the contents of her duffel on the bed, Mila did the same. A basic toiletry kit. Tightly rolled underwear and socks. Three sets of thermal underwear. Lightweight T-shirts and microfiber shorts for exercising or sleeping. Another flight suit like the one she was wearing. A thermal coat, cap and gloves.

  As she stowed her clothing, she noticed someone had already stamped her initials inside each piece. The label on her thermal coat was marked LF. “Uh-oh, it looks like I have Libby Fagan’s jacket. I hope she has mine.”

  As she turned to show the label to
Jancey, she was startled to find her naked from the waist up with her back turned as she slipped into a T-shirt for sleeping. Mila quickly spun back around, trembling with…damn it…trembling with excitement. Very not good. She had to rein that in now.

  “You and Libby are about the same size. At least they didn’t give you Marlon’s.”

  “I’ll see about trading with her tomorrow.” With her back to Jancey, she too changed into a T-shirt and knit shorts, all the while conscious of being watched.

  “We’ll need to get our rhythms sorted out for the analog,” Jancey said. “When to sleep, when to eat. Our exercise schedule. And we’ll have to set aside several hours a day to work together. I usually like to work out first thing in the morning, but two hours at this altitude…I may have to split it up.”

  Mila had gone to the exercise room in Building A immediately following the afternoon seminar but had managed to complete only half of her workout before her muscles became fatigued for lack of oxygen.

  “Spreading out the workouts might be better anyway,” Mila replied. “According to the handbook, our biggest challenge will be boredom. Other than maintaining our habitat and keeping the logs, we don’t have much actual work to stay busy.”

  “That’s kind of the point of the analog—to see how we’ll handle long periods of not having anything to do.” Jancey removed her new tablet from the backpack. “So what have they loaded on this thing?”

  “All the training materials are there. Communications software. Interface plug-ins for the equipment we’ll be using…the solar panels and the water meter. Duty logs, exercise logs, food logs, sleeping logs. There’s probably one there for peeing and pooping too,” she added sarcastically.

  “You’d better believe it. The whole time I was on Guardian, everyone in Houston knew when I got my period. There’s no such thing as privacy.” Jancey propped against her pillow and stretched her legs out on the bed with the tablet in her lap. “Any external apps on here?”

  “There’s an Internet browser but it has a built-in delay so everything you try to access takes twenty minutes. Works fine for email though. A few solitaire games. And there’s a gaming app that looks like it’s set up to network with nearby tablets. We’ll probably have time to check that out in…oh, about six or seven years.”