Margaritifer Basin (Margaritifer Trilogy Book 1) (16 page)

“Okay, so that gets us there and
back, almost. So the command module is the Earth re-entry vehicle?”

“Right. Just like Apollo. We
jettison everything else on approach, dive into the atmosphere, pop chutes and
splashdown in the South Pacific.”

“So once more, how long are we
gone?”

“Well, 195 days out, 582 days on
Mars, 179 days back. All told, 956 days, give or take. A little over two and a
half years.”

Abby pushed her chair back and
exhaled loudly, “Remind me to pack my vibrator.”

Susan smiled. “Bring two.”

Gabe wrinkled her nose in a frown.
“Eeeew.”

“Gabe,” said Susan, “is Jeff right?
Is this possible?”

Gabe sighed, shook her head, and
just stared at the boards.

Jeff smiled at her. “I’d like to
hear the answer to that too.”

After a moment she turned around
and faced them. “Okay, yeah. I think it’s possible. It could be done. But I
don’t think it can be done in four years. I don’t think NASA, with all its
resources, could do this in four years.”

“Of course they couldn’t,” said
Jeff. “It would take NASA two years just to draft the specs for toilet paper,
another two years to let the contracts, and three years to field test the
stuff. It would take us an hour and a trip to Wal-Mart. We are not the
government, Gabe. We can do things differently.”

Sue looked at her questioningly.
“Gabe?”

“Yeah, he’s got a point.”

By the following evening they were
worn out. They’d covered every aspect and last detail of the tentative plan and
were more than ready to put it to rest for a while and relax. Instead of
cooking at Wrentham House, Jeff suggested dinner at the Spiced Pear. “It’s
right on the water, on the north end of the Cliff Walk, you’ll love it.” So off
they went.

“Everything’s great. The lamb is
exquisite,” Jeff informed them.

The waiter appeared and took their
orders. “And to start,” Jeff added, “two ounces of the Caspian caviar and a
bottle of Bollinger ’70.”

Jeff had wanted to avoid any
discussion of ‘business’ during dinner, but as they enjoyed the meal and the
Newport twilight view his curiosity finally got the better of him. “So, you’ve
heard the whole sordid tale now and tomorrow you’re off for home. Any thoughts,
conclusions, uh, decisions?”

Abby didn’t need any time to think
about it, “It was certainly an informative and eye-opening weekend. And, I
should note, a very pleasant one. Thank you.”

All three women nodded in agreement
and heartily thanked him.

Then Abby continued, “Wow, the
adventure to end all adventures. I think I now understand how early sailors
felt when they looked at the edge of their charts and it said, ‘Beyond here
there be dragons.’ As of Friday, I think all three of us were more than a little
skeptical, but you’ve sold me on it. Though it didn’t take a lot. I’m in.”

Jeff smiled and nodded gratefully,
“Thank you. I’m delighted to have you aboard.”

“I’ll need to turn in my apartment
keys, put a few things in storage and abandon the rest on the sidewalk.” They
all laughed. “But I can be back in less than a week and get started, if that’s
alright?”

“Perfect. I’ll get you an open
ticket. Just give me a call when you’re on your way and I’ll pick you up in
Providence.”

They sat quietly for a minute, Gabe
just staring out the window at the ocean and Susan glancing at her wondering if
she was ready to speak. Clearly she was not. Finally Susan took a sip of wine
and a deep breath, “When I decided I wanted to go into space medicine, this
isn’t exactly what I had in mind. But practicing medicine in space must, by
anyone’s standard, constitute the very essence of space medicine. I don’t know
if I can do all that you will be asking of me; there is much that I need to
learn.” She paused and followed Gabe’s stare out the window for a moment, then
turned back to Jeff, “But I will try. I’m in.”

Abby lunged over and gave her a
hug, “Yes!”

Jeff raised his glass to her, “And
to you also, thank you very much. I’m pleased beyond words. Welcome aboard.”

“But as you know, I still have a
six weeks left in my residency, so it will be the end of July before I can get
back.”

“Understood. Put all this out of
your mind, if that’s possible, do what you need to do and we’ll see you when
you get here.”

She nodded, “Alright.”

Jeff, Abby and Susan simultaneously
turned to Gabriel. Her eyes were closed as she rested her head on her hand,
motionless. Finally she raised her head and sighed without looking toward them,
“I still think you’re all crazy. But of course, that doesn’t exclude me from
being crazy too.” She slowly shook her head, “I don’t know,” and turning to
face Jeff, “I just don’t know.”

Jeff smiled softly at her and
nodded, “I understand. Believe me, I understand. Take a few days, a week, think
about it, and let me know.”

She nodded, “I will.”

“I would like to say, regardless of
how you ultimately decide, your input and insight has already proven
invaluable, and I appreciate that… greatly.” And he likewise raised his glass
to her.

Monday, June 18, 2012
(T minus 1373 days)

The hollow sound of Jeff’s
footsteps as he descended the stairs were a reminder – and not a pleasant one –
that, but for him, Wrentham House was again empty. As he saw Gabe, Abby and
Susan off at the airport that morning he immediately felt emptiness in his
stomach. He missed their company, even before they were out of sight. Only now
did he realize the extent of his loneliness since Marsha’s passing. He still
grieved for her but the time for a monastical life of solitude was clearly over.
He craved companionship, and eagerly looked forward to Abby’s return, both for
her company and her help. But for the moment he set that aside; there was much
work to be done.

On a large dry erase board in the
downstairs office Jeff had written the names of some twenty commercial
aerospace companies that might prove potential providers of systems or
services. He wanted to call them all and make appointments as soon as possible
to speak with the powers that be and get things moving. However, that would present
an awkwardly long schedule and Jeff felt it might be better to wait until Abby
returned and they got a plane to make travel easier, not to mention her moral
support while he assaulted these bastions of the industry. So instead, Jeff
decided to pick on just a couple to start with. ILC Dover was located in
Delaware, so fairly close, and besides being NASA’s prime contractor for space
suits, was also on the leading edge of inflatable habitats and lander airbags,
having provided the airbags for the MER program. ILC had a lot to offer and
getting them onboard would be a major coup.

“Good morning, ILC Dover, how may I
help you?”

Jeff had already spoken with
SpaceX, and he wasn’t quite as nervous about appearing out of his league now as
then, but he still had trouble thinking of himself as an aerospace executive
rather than a schoolteacher. But now was no time for timidity. “Good morning.
Jeff Grey, CEO, Grey Aerospace. I’m not sure who I need to speak to there,
somebody with a handle on your full line of capabilities and capable of helping
me out with some substantial space systems integration.”

“Uh, goodness… perhaps you should
speak with Mr. Andovar, our Marketing Director.”

“Okay. Can you connect me?”

“Just a moment, let me see if he’s
available.”

Jeff sat on hold, listening to a
canned promo on all the things that ILC Dover has done, does, and may do
someday in the future.

“This is Paul Andovar. Mr. Grey, is
it? How may I help you?”

“Yes, Paul. Jeff Grey, Grey Aerospace. I’m sure you
haven’t heard of us, we’re a pretty new startup with an eye on systems
integration for near-term commercial planetary exploration. And I’m looking to
make an appointment for a face-to-face sit-down with someone at ILC to explain
what I need and want, and perhaps what I might do for you.” Jeff was, as usual,
intentionally vague. Coming right out and announcing his plan to fly to Mars in
four years usually didn’t elicit the best response.

“Well, that certainly sounds
ambitious. Uh, might I ask, what kind of systems are you interested in?”

“Pretty much everything you’ve got:
suits, habitats, lander airbags, the works. We’re looking at options for
assembling the full package.”

“Really. Alright, um, let me see.
I’m afraid I’m going to be tied up tomorrow, how about Wednesday afternoon, say
1:00?”

“That would be great.”

“Where are you located Mr. Grey?”

“Please, it’s Jeff. We’re up in
Rhode Island, Newport, not terribly far from you.”

“Okay, then I’ll see you Wednesday.
I’m looking forward to hearing more about this.”

“Great. I think this may interest
you and I look forward to meeting you. Thanks for your time and have a good
day.”

Jeff hung up then dialed the next
number on his list.

“Dr. Loewen.”

“Good morning sir, my name is
Jeffrey Grey, I’m the owner and CEO of Grey Aerospace. I pulled your name off
the Stanford Racing Team website and I hope you might be able to help me out
with a wee little project.”

“Aerospace, huh. What can I do for you Mr. Grey?”

“Well, I’ve been reading up on
SRT’s success in the DARPA Grand Challenge a few years back, and it seems you
might be the right folks for a project I have in mind. I need a vehicle,
capable of remote, manual, and autonomous off-road operation. It needs to carry
and/or tow up to 1200 pounds, have a top speed of at least twenty miles per hour,
twenty-five would be better, and operate largely unattended in an extremely
hostile environment for at least three and a half years. It must weigh no more
than 1875 pounds, and… I need it in 18 months.”

“Wow. That’s a pretty tall order.
I’m not sure it could even be done. How ‘hostile’ of an environment are you
talking about?”

“Oh, how about… Mars.”

“Mars? Okay, that’s pretty hostile.
Um, are you planning to put a remote rover up there?”

“That’s correct.”

“Wait a minute, you said ‘capable
of manual operation’. Why’s that?”

“Because from time to time somebody
will be driving it.”

“
Uh huh
. On Mars?”

“That is correct.”

“Excuse me Mr. Grey, is this some
kind of joke?”

“No, Dr. Loewen, this is not a
joke. I’m dead serious. First cargo launch, including the first of two rovers,
goes up in December 2013 and crew launch in March 2016. Are you interested, or
do I hang up and call Carnegie Mellon?”

“If you’re for real, hell yes I’m
interested! But I still don’t know if it can be done. Why haven’t I heard
anything of this in press from NASA.”

“Because NASA is not involved. This
is an entirely private venture. I’m thinking you might start with a basic,
off-the-shelf Kawasaki Mule. Internal combustion is fine; we’ll just need to
configure it to run on carbon monoxide and LOX. Besides all the usual collision
avoidance ability, it’ll also need to navigate by range and bearing data from
something like a TACAN, in addition to pretty good inertial, as there’s no GPS
up there. And I will, of course, pay for it. Would you like to talk it over
with your people and get back to me in a day or two?”

“Uh, yeah. We’ve talked about
projects sort of like this off and on but, jeez.”

“Very good. If you decide to take
it on, I’ll fax you a complete list of specifications and requirements. Let me
know, soon.”

“Carbon monoxide?”

“Yeah. It’s either that or methane.
CO’s not quite as efficient but just as easy to produce, and you don’t have to
fool with water recovery from the exhaust. Nothing coming out of the tailpipe
but CO2, which is what you make the CO and O2 from in the first place. Nice and
neat.”

“This will be interesting.”

They exchanged contact information
and Dr. Loewen promised to get back to Jeff as soon as he could.

Jeff suddenly thought that all this
might be a lot easier if the press got hold of it and the mission became public
knowledge. That would certainly eliminate the credibility problem, up to a
point. Still, it was awfully early and he wasn’t terribly excited about the
idea of facing a room full of reporters. He figured someone would eventually
spill the beans, but for now there seemed little point in rushing the process.

Glancing over the list again, Jeff
spotted one task he was really looking forward to.

“Good morning, Cindtronix.”

“Hi, I want to learn how to fly.
What do I do? How do I get started?”

“Great. That’s what we’re here for.
Have you ever flown in a private plane?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, well, you might like to
start with one of our ‘Discovery Flights’. It’s an actual hands-on lesson and
the time counts toward your Private Pilot license training requirement.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. When do
you have an opening?”

“Well, let me see… we’re fairly
open this afternoon. Otherwise… it would be Wednesday.”

“I’ll be out of town Wednesday so
let’s make it today. What time?”

“We offer 30-, 60- and 90-minute
flights. We have a couple openings that we could fit the shorter flights into
but, if you’d like the 90-minute flight, we could fit you in at one o’clock.”

“That’ll work. One o’clock it is.”

A little before 1:00 Jeff parked
the Aston Martin in front of the Quonset State Airport terminal and walked
upstairs to Cindtronix’ office. At the counter was a short gentleman, probably
in his mid-60’s. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, I’m Jeff Grey, I called this
morning and am here for an introductory flight.”

“Ah yes, Mr. Grey, I’m the one you
spoke to,” reaching across the counter to shake hands, “Bob Masse. I’m one of
the flight instructors here and I’ll be taking you up this afternoon.”

“Great. Pleased to meet you, Bob.”

“Have you ever flown in a small
plane before?”

“Nope.”

“Well, you’re gonna love it. It’s
great fun. So you want to learn to fly?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan.”

“Just for pleasure? Or are looking
at an aviation career?”

“Well, kind of somewhere in
between. I’ve got an assortment of reasons, not the least of which is that I’ll
be doing a great deal of traveling around the country over the next few years
and having my own plane so I can bypass the hassle of commercial flights just
seems like a good idea.”

“Well, there you go. Good for you.
What line of work are you in?”

“Aerospace.”

Bob laughed, “Well then you
definitely need to learn how to fly… part of the job description.”

Jeff grinned, “Uh, yeah, you might
say that.”

“Are you at all familiar with the
pilot training program? What’s involved?”

“Yeah, I’ve done some reading about
it on the Internet, I think I’ve got a pretty good handle on the process.”

“Alright, then we’ll forego the
nauseating introduction, and get right to it. I’ve got you slated for a
90-minute intro flight, that’s $299. That alright with you?”

“Sounds good. Look, Bob, I’m very
serious about this. I want to get it done safely and intelligently, but as
quickly as practical. I’m going to need a private license, instrument rating,
all the endorsements – complex, high performance, multi-engine, etc. – and
probably a commercial certificate just for good measure. Then I’ll need to
build up some time and skills and push right on for a type rating. So, what’s
the full tab for a private license? I’ll write you a check and we can get
going.”

“Wow, you are serious. Okay, on
average it takes most folks about 54 hours of flight time and that’ll run
around $8000. If you make a deposit of $1000 or more, we’ll give you a five
percent credit on your account.”

Jeff pulled out his checkbook and
wrote out a check for $8000. “Okay, this should get us started.”

“Okay, let me write you a receipt.
You mentioned a type rating, what are you planning on flying?”

“Citation.”

Bob’s jaw dropped, “Jeez! You
aren’t kidding. You’ve got your work cut out for you, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, well, the convenience and
flexibility of having your own plane drops off rather quickly unless you’ve got
the speed and legs to keep up with commercial flights, and that means a jet. So
that’s the plan.”

“Okay, then let’s not waste any
time. Follow me, we’ll go to the ready room for a preflight briefing and get
right to it. This will be a cross-country flight, and you’ve got your choice of
destinations. Any place around here you’d like to go?”

“Oh, not really. Maybe down along
the south end of Aquidneck Island. I’d kind of like to see what my house looks
like from the air.”

“Okay.”

Jeff took a seat in the ready room
and got his first ground school lesson, after which Bob led him out onto the
tarmac. “This is a Cessna Skyhawk 172, the plane we’ll be flying today and the
one you’ll be training in. It’s not a Citation, but it is a bit easier to fly.”

“Works for me. Have to start
someplace,” Jeff grinned.

Jeff followed Bob around the
airplane and listened attentively as he conducted the preflight inspection.
Tires, brakes, fuel level, control surfaces, lights clean, cabin air intake,
Pitot, baggage door closed and locked, tie downs and wheel chocks removed…
check. When Bob was satisfied that all was in proper working order they climbed
in and buckled up. From the right seat Jeff was immediately impressed by two
things: the view, no tiny commercial jet window here, this was like being in a
car, and the vast number of gauges, instruments and controls. Clearly there was
a lot involved in flying, even a small plane.

“Today, I’ll just walk you through
the startup, taxi and takeoff checklists. I’ll explain the ‘what’ but not the
‘why,’ you’ll get all that in later lessons,” said Bob as he began the cockpit
preflight. “Many of us old codgers like me have tinnitus from listening to the
noise of these engines for too many years so most everyone these days wears
headsets to save their hearing. The cockpit intercom is voice-actuated so to
talk with me, just talk. To transmit on the radio you have to key the transmit
button here on the control yoke. So just follow me as I go through this. Okay?”

“Got it.” Jeff could feel his pulse
rising. This was already fun and Bob hadn’t even started the engine.

“Alright, here we go. Preflight complete. Brakes set.
Mixture to rich. Carb heat to cold. Prime and lock. Throttle open ½ inch.
Master switch to ON. Rotating beacon to ON. Propeller clear. And… START.”

The Skyhawk shook as the Lycoming
engine fired and the propeller beat the air.

Bob went on, “Throttle to 1,000
RPM. Oil pressure, check. Radios and avionics to ON and transponder to standby.
Radios, turn coordinator, magnetic compass, vacuum, ammeter, working and check.
And we’re ready to go.” Bob keyed the radio transmit button, “Quonset ground,
Cessna three eight one tango mike, Cessna one seven two uniform, at transit
parking, request taxi one six for departure to Newport on local flight.”