Over the last three days, they had constructed the dome themselves inside and out from a kit, and stocked it with equipment and six weeks’ worth of supplies.
“So far it looks like everything’s still where we left it yesterday,” Mila said.
“Don’t celebrate yet. We don’t know if any of it works.”
They had scripted every step the night before to make the best use of the two hours they could spend outside. The first task was to confirm their water tank had been filled. It was mounted on the exterior of the dome and insulated to keep it from freezing, and had a valve inside from which they could draw what they needed. One hundred liters per week was their ration. Jancey assured her they could make do with less. Much less. Mila was afraid to ask if that had anything to do with urine.
The most complicated job was to mount the solar panels on their roof so they could begin charging their other two power packs. Once that was done, they’d move back inside to assemble the hydroponics garden and get their seedlings started.
Jancey went to work unpacking her spacesuit, which wasn’t a spacesuit at all. Actual EMUs—extravehicular mobility units—were multimillion-dollar individual life support units designed to maintain body temperature and air flow, and deflect bullet-like particles that floated through orbit. Their analog suits were bulky and restrictive to simulate the difficulties of EVAs in space, but had none of the technology.
“I’ll get changed and go start on the solar panels,” Jancey said. “You check out what’s in the widget box and I’ll let you know what we need.”
The widget box looked as though it had been assembled by sweeping the floor in a hardware store. Spare parts, specialty tools. Duct tape, plastic tubing, sealant. Twine, razor blades, binder clips. Pipe fittings, conduits, wire connectors.
“Uh-oh,” Mila said, holding up a spool of electrical wire. “What do you want to bet the connectors have been stripped out of the solar panels?”
“I’m worried about the water caddy too. We should put a seal around the valve just in case, and check the bottom for cracks.”
It was all Mila could do to keep her eyes on the widget box when she realized Jancey had stripped off her clothes to put on a moisture-wicking layer underneath her spacesuit. After four nights together in close quarters at the residence, they’d surrendered all sense of modesty, but seeing her naked still had the same effect on Mila as the first night. She’d lain awake for hours fighting to erase the vision and then fighting to bring it back.
Jancey was gorgeous. A real woman, not one of those waifs from the fashion rags. Sculpted nipples sitting high upon her rounded breasts. A dark triangle of reddish-brown hair at the top of her curvy thighs. A stubborn paunch below her navel, the only extra fat she carried. In a word, perfect.
She dressed methodically, pulling the bulky leggings over her shoes. A stiff vest encased her torso like a cage beneath an overstuffed jacket. Once everything was in place, she put on a wide belt that snapped it all together at the waist. It looked vaguely like a spacesuit. Or more accurately, like a spacesuit costume one might wear on Halloween.
The one piece that was close to authentic was the communications cap—the comm cap—which had a built-in headset and microphone that worked wirelessly off an ordinary smartphone in her chest pocket. It was imperative they stay in constant communication outside the habitat.
“Here I go. Log me out.”
Mila entered the data into their primary tablet computer, the one linked to project headquarters. As promised, there were data logs for practically everything—EVAs, exercise routines, menus. She logged Jancey out and slipped on headphones that connected her to both Mission Control and Jancey.
As Jancey called out the materials she needed, Mila placed them in a canvas bag by the door.
“See any Martians out there?”
A crackle came through the headset as Jancey chuckled. “The Clarkes are out together. They dragged their widget box outside. Something tells me they don’t quite understand the objectives.”
As Mila waited inside for further instructions, she meticulously inspected their indoor equipment. “The plug on our stove appears to be French. La stove.”
“Is there an adapter in the widget box?”
“Of course not. I’ll have to adapt another adapter.”
The friendly banter between them had been slow to emerge. For the first couple of days after their pairing, Jancey had seemed almost resentful, as though already second-guessing her decision. That changed once they went to work on their habitat. Using her natural gift for spatial relations, Mila took over the construction inside and out with Jancey following her lead. The result was a structure completed more than an hour before any of the other teams.
That’s what Jancey had bragged about to Shel. She trusted Mila to take charge and wasn’t afraid to admit it. None of the men would have deferred to either of them on something related to construction. They would have taken over and relegated them to holding the ladder or handing them tools.
They were perfect together. And they were going to Mars.
Chapter Twelve
Jancey squeezed her grips, fifty reps. It was the only exercise she could do without making noise. The only anything. Even though it was nearly two hours past her own bedtime, she didn’t want to wake Mila, who had struggled to sleep their first three nights in the habitat.
Presumably, all of the married couples slept together, probably from ten to six just as they’d always done. Jancey had considered asking to share the bunk with Mila so they could get on a normal schedule. They’d have to do that anyway if Mission Control announced a solar flare because it doubled as a radiation chamber. Plenty of room for both of them to stretch out without touching.
So why hadn’t they? Jancey had told herself when she was drafting their timetable the first day that sleeping at the same time meant she’d never have a moment alone. A split schedule gave her seven hours of privacy while Mila was sleeping.
Except Mila hadn’t slept that long until tonight. She usually flopped around for a couple of hours before falling asleep and then woke well before midnight. That wasn’t enough to function effectively, or to maintain her attention level throughout the day. Now exhausted and running on fumes, she’d crashed completely, sleeping like a teenager on the weekend.
Jancey had spent the last four hours reading but her brain needed a break. Her favorite way to unwind was to turn out all the lights and play her clarinet, but that was out of the question with Mila sleeping. Mendelssohn, Mozart, Strauss. She’d told Mila if they went to Mars together, she’d take along an extra clarinet and teach her to play. It was too bad she hadn’t packed it for the analog. Then she would have had an excuse to suggest sleeping together so they’d have time to play in the evening.
What was she afraid of?
Losing control. Giving someone else power over her. Those were the obvious.
Mila had the very sort of sex appeal Jancey had always been powerless to ignore. It began with smart. A physical spark couldn’t happen without it, and Mila had it in abundance. She also had a tantalizing body. Smooth-looking skin and long, lean hands only a lesbian could truly appreciate. Add to those things her sensitivity and easygoing manner, and she definitely was a woman Jancey could fall for.
No, her greatest fear at this point was growing close enough to discover something about Mila she didn’t like. Something that would unravel the possibility of having a near-perfect life with a partner on a world far away. Better she remained a mystery for now.
* * *
Mila blinked herself awake and stared at the arched ceiling only a meter above her head. A sliver of light from Jancey’s headlamp pierced the corner of the sleeping enclosure like a saber. Even through her earplugs, she could hear fingertips tapping on the tablet’s keyboard.
After four nights on the slope, she still hadn’t adjusted to her new sleep schedule, four to midnight. Admittedly, the lack of sleep was wearing on her but the bigger issue was how bad
it looked on their log that she was averaging only a few hours a night.
It was nervous energy, she decided, along with the shift in her schedule that had her in bed at four in the afternoon. Plus the excitement of being with Jancey. Other than that, their partnership was working. It bothered her at first to realize Jancey was inspecting her every move, but then she decided that was a good thing because there was so much at stake. One small slip-up could cost them everything. Rather than be annoyed about it, she began doing the same to Jancey.
A quick check of her Sinn confirmed it was only a quarter after ten. She had two choices. Lie in bed for two more hours pretending to sleep, or get up and endure Jancey’s ire for having so little control over her cycle. Neither would be pleasant.
Cold air hit her when she threw back the blanket, but that would feel good once she started her workout. Girding for Jancey’s sharp tongue, she drew back the curtain at her feet and slid out.
“It’s freezing in here.”
“Because you’re half naked,” Jancey said flatly. “And also because it’s twenty-nine degrees outside. Fahrenheit, of course. Coldest day of the summer so far.”
The concepts of below freezing and summer didn’t go together, at least not in this hemisphere. “How low is it supposed to get?”
“This is probably the worst of it. Rain on the way. That should warm things up…unless we get snow.” Jancey stood and stretched.
So far no scolding. Perhaps she’d given up.
“I feel pretty rested. You can go on to bed early if you want.”
“Early?”
“Yeah, it’s…” Mila checked her watch again as she strapped it on…only this time, she turned it right side up. Five minutes till three. “Holy shit! Are you telling me I’ve been asleep for over ten hours? Why didn’t you wake me?”
Jancey shrugged. “I figured you needed it. That’s what happens when you go four nights in a row without a full night’s sleep.”
“Great. Now they’re going to think I’m a lazy slacker.”
“Not if you get it straightened out. Sleep is part of your job. You stay awake when you have to, you sleep when you’re supposed to. It says that right here in the log.” She pointed indignantly to the tablet on the table. “That needs to happen starting tonight. Take the zolpidem and go to sleep. All the astronauts do it. That’s what it’s for.”
Mila groaned. It was one thing for Jancey to insist she eat poi but this was different. She had no use for medications, especially ones that screwed around with her brain. “Have you read those studies? That stuff stays in your system for half the next day. The warning label clearly says not to operate heavy machinery. That probably includes a spaceship, you know. You can’t get much heavier than that.”
“If you’re going to read the label, read all of it. It says some of those side effects were observed in study trials, but it doesn’t happen to everyone. This is the perfect place to try it out because there’s no heavy machinery to operate.”
If not for the exasperation in Jancey’s voice, Mila would have dismissed it out of hand. She felt guilty for stealing two of her sleep hours. That couldn’t happen again. “Fine, I’ll try it tonight. Or maybe after sleeping so long, I should skip a night and start tomorrow.”
“Tonight.” Jancey stretched again and unzipped her flight suit. “I’m going to turn in for a few hours. Get me up by eight.”
Mila hated the idea of taking a sleeping pill, but maybe Jancey was right.
Of course she was right. She’d managed on her own aboard Guardian for over a year.
She noticed Jancey had already completed a couple of the tasks on their morning checklist. Their daily water rations—four liters each for personal use—were already measured out in plastic jugs next to the galley area, and their planned menu for the day was already logged.
The scheduled breakfast was a strawberry protein shake. She mixed one and set it aside to thicken while she completed her workout. Jancey’s earplugs would muffle the whoosh sound the hydraulic stair climber made with every step. Two thousand steps, to be exact, followed by two hundred sit-ups and twenty minutes of upper body exercises using stiff rubber bands.
Dripping with sweat, she relaxed in the low chair with her breakfast. The strawberry packets were her least favorite, but ever since the dressing down over the poi, she’d become rigid about eating everything she was given, no matter how disgusting. It didn’t matter so much at this altitude because her sense of smell and taste were less acute. By all reports, that was even more pronounced in space.
Jancey had shared with her some of the other oddities of space. Workouts were easier in zero gravity, so it took extra effort and twice the time to engage the muscles and bones used for weight-bearing. Refrigeration used too much energy, so everything was warm. No such thing as a “bed,” just a floating sleeping bag tied down on both ends like a hammock so it wouldn’t bump into controls and equipment.
Eight months of that. Most people would consider that a hardship, maybe even some of their fellow candidates camped alongside them on the hillside. Mila, on the other hand, could hardly wait. Alone in a space vessel with Jancey. It was quite literally a dream come true.
After breakfast, she took a sponge bath and changed into fresh underwear before sliding back into the same flight suit she’d worn since the first day on Mauna Kea. Sturdy and durable enough to wear for three weeks before changing into the second one.
Underwear was a different matter. They’d brought along a washing machine—a five-liter plastic bag with a zipper seal. One liter of water with no-rinse soap was enough to wash six pairs of underwear and socks at a time. All she had to do was squeeze for ten minutes to swish the water around, and then wring it out and pour the wastewater through their filter, where it would then be used in the garden.
There is no waste in space.
By the time she finished, the cloudy sunrise had lightened the room through the hatch’s porthole. She quietly set about the daily routine of measuring the plant growth and transcribing the data into their log. Four days and already everything had sprouted—Bibb lettuce, green onions, carrots and snow peas. That’s what happened when you handed an expert in food production a tray of sprouts and a hydroponics kit. Jancey estimated they’d be eating fresh food in only three weeks as long as they were able to generate the power needed for the grow light—not a sure bet with rain on the way.
One by one, she ticked off the other items on their morning checklist. Water, food and power supplies, all of which Jancey had taken care of. She conducted a careful inspection of the interior of their habitat. All that remained was the walk-around outside, which she couldn’t do until Jancey was up, since they were required to be in constant contact.
Someone on the staff had visited their habitat two nights ago to strip off a few pieces of the reflective exterior of their dome. Obviously, the objective was to keep them vigilant with regard to inspections and repairs, since maintenance of their equipment on Mars was a matter of life and death. Mila had discovered and repaired the sabotage within hours. While it may not have earned them points for being reliable, it hadn’t cost them any for being negligent. Or as Jancey had put it, “You don’t get points for doing it right. You lose them for doing it wrong, or for not doing it at all.”
Every time they faced a challenge, she wondered how the other groups responded. Had any of them failed to notice or report the exterior “damage?” Had they shrugged off the repair as inessential? Were they managing their resources? Were they getting along?
It was hard to imagine anyone handling the analog better than they had so far. Marlon and Jean-Paul were probably on top of things, as were Jerry and Wade. Perhaps the Fagans too, since Libby had gone through NASA training and knew exactly what was expected of her. The fact remained that no matter how well they executed during the analog, none of them could get by on as little as she and Jancey when it came to water and food.
They were the only logical choice. It was no longer a ques
tion of whether or not they’d go to Mars. But would they be first?
* * *
Jancey awakened to an unpleasant sound—rain—and knew immediately Mila had let her sleep too long. Nine fifteen to be precise. Turnabout was fair play.
The other sound she heard was Mila talking in a low voice as she recorded their daily video report. If she crawled out of bed at that moment, she’d appear in the background of the transmission dressed in her thermal underwear.
“We have sixty-eight liters of water remaining. Power packs are at one hundred, ninety-two and forty-six percent. We’ll be implementing strict conservation measures in anticipation of continued rain for the next two days. That is all.”
Jancey slid out to find the habitat chilly and damp. They could close the air vents along the floor, but then it would be chilly, damp and stuffy.
“What happened to my eight o’clock wake-up call?”
“Seriously? You let me sleep all night and you think I’m going to wake you up after five hours? Besides, there’s nothing to do. I’m caught up with everything except the walk-around.”
“So I heard. I wonder if anyone else has more than half of their water supply left. We’re supposed to be restocked day after tomorrow.”
“I wonder if anyone else is watering their food with pee-pee.”
It struck her as funny to hear a grown woman use the word “pee-pee,” made even sillier by the Slavic cadence. Jancey snorted with laughter and swatted Mila’s head with a rolled-up T-shirt.
“I know. Two parts hydrogen, one part oxygen. It’s all the same.”
They’d collected rocks, gravel and sand to construct a water filter so they could get by on less. On their journey to Mars, the ship’s dehumidifiers would recycle not only their urine, but whatever floated around the compartment, including their sweat and the condensation from their breath.
“Did you get your workout done?” Jancey asked as she peeled out of her thermals and into her shorts and T-shirt.
“Workout, bath, breakfast shake.”
T-Minus Two Page 13
