Margaritifer Basin (Margaritifer Trilogy Book 1) (5 page)

Over the following few weeks Jeff
read and studied everything he could get his hands on regarding Mars missions
of all kinds and manned lunar missions; past, present and future. He soon
discovered there were a number of mission plans already in existence; clearly a
lot of people had similar ideas and had put a lot of work into the problem.
Further, the various plans had certain similarities: a cargo launch preceding
the crew launch by one 26-month launch window, a crew of six or more, proposals
to manufacture fuel on Mars for the return trip, an economical Hohmann transfer
trajectory, and landing a rather sizable ship on the planet. But landing that
large ship seemed to propose the biggest challenge as the awkward combination
of Mars’ atmosphere and gravitational pull made landing anything big extremely
difficult, if not impossible, given current technology. So after giving the
matter some thought, Jeff decided to go the opposite direction and take the
minimalist approach: What would it take to put footprints on Mars and get those
feet back to Earth alive? And do it using nothing but tested and proven systems
and technologies. Forget all the rest.

Jeff also quickly learned that the
projected costs involved were frequently one to two orders of magnitude greater
than that advertised by existing commercial vendors. SpaceWorks 2007 AIAA
proposal, for example, suggested a cost of $14.13 billion for launch vehicles –
rockets – to put a bit over half a million pounds of payload into LEO, or Low
Earth Orbit, utilizing the Ares V. Yet according to SpaceX, eight Falcon
Heavies could do that for $721 million, or about 1/20
^th
of
SpaceWorks’ estimate. Further, SpaceX owner, Elon Musk, in 2004 had suggested
to a Congressional committee that if demand warranted a super-heavy rocket –
what he called the BFR or ‘Big Fucking Rocket’ – the cost per pound to LEO
might very well be reduced to as little as $500. That would cut the launch
vehicle cost in the SpaceWorks proposal to a mere $261 million, less than 2% of
their proposed cost. If this could be applied across the board, the total cost
of SpaceWorks proposal dropped from $96.8 billion to $1.8 billion! Jeff assumed
he was making some rather gross oversimplifications, but still there appeared
to be a vast disconnect between estimated costs and reality. Certainly there
was enough of a difference to make the project worthy of serious consideration.

Further, Jeff noticed there were
substantial weight reductions available – and it all came down to weight – by
scaling back both the scope and ‘luxury’ of the systems. He didn’t need the
Ritz-Carlton, Motel 6 would do quite nicely. Nor did he need a crew of six; two
would do, four at the most. Returning again to SpaceWorks proposal, he noted
their estimate of 10.5 tons for astronaut living quarters, a TransHab, for the
outbound and return journeys; two of them, one each direction. Yet Bigelow
Aerospace already had a couple of their Genesis modules in orbit that weighed
only 1.5 tons. They weren’t big, but they’d do. And if he could use the same
module for the round trip, he could save nearly 20 tons, or one entire $90
million launch.

So Jeff started with SpaceWorks
‘Architecture’ list and began paring it down to size. He eliminated the frills
and nice-to-haves, like a four-ton, $3 billion pressurized rover, reduced the
weight wherever possible by utilizing more compact, yet available, systems, and
plugged in advertised commercial prices. When all was said and done, what he
found was quite a surprise: 257,600 pounds to lift and a total mission cost of
$682.5 million! He could pay for half of that, and Bill Gates and Warren Buffet
could cover the rest out of petty cash. Even if he was off by a factor of
three, with some investment from commercial marketing interests it was still
very doable. And who wouldn’t want to have television images of their company
logo broadcast back to Earth from Mars? Talk about a marketing bonanza…

Friday, May 4, 2012
(T minus 1418 days)

Jeff pushed back from the desk.
There were two weeks of school left and he was a bit sorry he hadn’t quit his
job immediately. Jeff felt he owed it to his students to finish the term but
wondered if anyone would not have understood if he’d bailed right away? He once
again looked over his work on the computer. Given that he was 27 years out of
college and held only a B.A. in chemistry, Jeff was pleased with himself. His
planning, assumptions and math were certainly not precise, but the bottom line
was close enough to convince him it was worth a shot.

At that instant, Jeff made up his
mind. It may be lunacy, wishful thinking, or merely a fantasy but… he was going
to Mars.

So, now what?

First of all he was going to need
some help; that part was abundantly clear. Second, he’d need an organization,
something official, a corporation or foundation or some such thing, “Hi, I’m
Jeff Grey, Mega Millions Lottery winner,” wasn’t going to impress many people
in the aerospace industry. He’d also need a place to work and the house in
Bixby Knolls wasn’t it. He’d need plenty of space, with more space available on
demand, and something that could make an impression… show he was serious. And
he needed it all right away.

Because it takes Mars nearly twice
as long to orbit the sun as Earth, launch windows appeared only every 26
months, give or take. The next window was winter 2013, barely 19 months away.
After that, spring 2016, not quite four years. Jeff was 49 years old. In four
years he’d be 53. Add another two and a half years for the trip and he’d be
around 55, give or take. He figured time wasn’t on his side. If he waited
another two years, he’d be around 58 when it was all over. Yes, John Glenn was
77 when he went up in the Shuttle, but he’d been in space before. Besides, it
should be enough time. And it’s a lot easier to push it back than forward. Further,
the 2018 opposition was very close, thus considerably shortening the trip home.
That would probably be welcome.

Getting help was going to have to
wait until after school was out. There simply wasn’t time between now and then
to research the kind of people he wanted and conduct interviews, but he could
contact a lawyer first thing next week and form a corporation; that should be
easy enough. Jeff thought for a minute then brought up a search window on the
Internet and typed in “Grey Aerospace.” No results. Okay, so much for that
question.

Alright, so where to work? The
strip mall on the next block over? No, singularly unimpressive. A high-rise in
Century City? No, it’d take two days through traffic to get to work. The Mohave
Air and Spaceport? No. The Mohave Desert? No way. Houston or Orlando, near Cape
Canaveral and the Kennedy Space Center? NASA’s centers? No. NASA’s involvement
will be minimal at best, why setup camp next door to them? Jeff thought he
needed someplace quiet, but not too quiet. Large, but not too large. Near an
airport, but not too near. He hadn’t traveled much, he didn’t even have a
passport, but he scratched his head trying to envision, well… just the right
place. He thought hard back to places he’d been and tried to fit the puzzle pieces
together.

“Hmmm, how about Newport?”

Jeff had spent some time at the
Naval Education and Training Center, Newport, Rhode Island while he was in the
service. It was a delightful place and seemed to have everything he wanted,
though it was at the opposite end of the country from Long Beach. Oh well, a
small matter. Newport also had one of the world’s largest supplies of mansions.
That could work. Jeff went back to an Internet search window and entered
“Newport Rhode Island mansion for sale,” just for the hell of it.

“Another
beautiful Newport, Rhode Island house has hit the market. Wrentham House was
recognized in 2008 with the Rhode Island historic preservation and heritage
commission award. The granite and brownstone oceanfront estate, which was
originally known as Indian Spring, was the first collaboration between Richard
Morris Hunt, legendary founder of the American Institute of Architects, and
esteemed landscape designer Frederick Law Olmsted. The 14,400-square-foot
mansion was created in 1891 for yachtsman and defender of the America's Cup,
J.R. Busk. The twenty-two-room masterpiece on five acres was recently restored
and is located on Ocean Avenue with prime water views.
This home is
listed at $12.75 million.
”

Wow! That could do. Jeff brought up
the listing and carefully looked over the floor plan and numerous photos. Ten
minutes from downtown Newport, ten bedrooms, fifteen baths, fifteen fireplaces,
library, den, billiard room, recreation room, theater, elevator, wine cellar,
and a living room-dining room-kitchen complex that could hold his entire Bixby
Knolls house, with room to spare. The architecture and grounds were drop-dead
gorgeous, high on a bluff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean just across the
street, and it was only a quarter mile from the Newport Country Club. “Oh – my
– god.” He sent the broker an email, “Call me tomorrow about Wrentham House and
we’ll discuss price. Jeff Grey.”

Around eight o’clock the next
morning Jeff was awoken by his cell phone. “Mr. Grey? Ann Collins, Collins
& Associates, realtors. I got your email regarding Wrentham House. How can
I help you?”

Jeff rubbed his eyes, “Good
morning. Sorry, still asleep. Late night.”

“I could call back later, if you’d
prefer?”

“No, that’s fine. Yeah, Wrentham
House, nice looking place. Where’s the garage?”

“Ah, you have a keen eye. There
isn’t one.”

“I didn’t think so. Looks like
there’s a pad at the end of the west wing. Could that be converted into a
garage? I realize the house has significant historical value, but if it was
done right…”

“Yes, it’s possible. It’s already
been discussed with the Newport building department by the current owner, and
they’re agreeable if it’s done in a manner in keeping with the building’s
original architecture.”

“Uh huh. Okay. I did some research
and noticed that the house was listed less than a year ago for $9.9 million;
same description, same pictures. And now the asking price is $12.75 million.
Tell you what, Ms. Collins, tell the owners I’ll give them $10 million, cash,
today. Call me back,” and Jeff hung up the phone and went back to sleep. It
didn’t take him long to realize that with money came a certain degree of power.

Jeff finally woke up around ten,
showered, dressed and fixed some breakfast. Near noon, his cell phone rang
again, “Mr. Grey? Ann Collins.”

“Hi. Sorry about the earlier call,
I’m grumpy in the morning.”

“No problem, I’m not really a
morning person either. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to see the house? I could
arrange a showing at your convenience.”

“Ms. Collins, I’m in California. I’ve
seen all I need to see and can’t make it to Newport right away.”

“I see. Well, the owners have
considered your offer and state they couldn’t go less than $12 million. There
has been a great deal of additional work done in the past year.”

“Uh huh. Okay, seems like we’ve
settled on $11 million. Call me back with a ‘yes’ Ms. Collins… or don’t call
back,” and he hung up again. Jeff really liked Wrentham House and wanted to buy
it, but he was going to need a lot of deal-making skill in coming years, and this
seemed as good a place as any to start.

Less than an hour later the phone
rang again, “Ann Collins, Mr. Grey. The owners have agreed to $11 million.”

“Excellent. Draft some paperwork,
letter of understanding or whatever, and fax it to…” Jeff suddenly realized he
had no fax machine, but he gave her his home phone number anyway. “and I’ll
wire a deposit immediately. I need this done as soon as possible, so let’s
expedite escrow. I’ll pay cash, so that should speed things up a bit. Can you
also send me a list of current service providers? Gardner, housekeeping, that
kind of thing? I’ll need to keep that going. Also, can you recommend a
first-rate interior decorator in Newport? Looks like I’m going to need some
furniture. I’ll see if I can fly out there for a day or two next weekend. Light
some fires under it, Ann. And, thanks.” They concluded their business and Jeff
immediately grabbed his car keys and headed for Radio Shack to buy a fax
machine.

That afternoon Jeff booked a flight
on United that would put him in Providence around midnight Friday. He’d have to
find a substitute for his Friday afternoon class, but most everyone at school
was getting used to his newfound eccentricities by now, and understood. He’d
spend the night in Providence, buy a car first thing Saturday morning and drive
to Newport. Then fly home Sunday afternoon. It would be a whirlwind weekend
but, given what he had in mind for the next few years, probably not the worst.
Besides, he’d just bought an $11 million house and was anxious to see it.

The following Friday night Jeff
found himself standing on the curb at T. F. Green airport in Warwick, Rhode
Island. He hailed a taxi, “Westin Hotel.” At 8:30 Saturday morning he climbed
into another taxi, “Herb Chambers Cadillac.” He paid the cab fare and walked
straight into the showroom. Looking around he immediately spied a dark blue
Escalade ESV All-Wheel-Drive Platinum Edition with beige interior. “Sweet.” He
turned to the approaching salesman, who had yet to open his mouth, and pointed
to the car, “I’ll take it, and I’m in a hurry.”

Owing to its elevation and setback,
Wrentham House could not be seen when approached from the east on Ocean Avenue.
Jeff turned into the driveway and started up the hill, anxiously glancing up
the escarpment for his first view. Rounding the bend at the top of the hill,
the home’s north façade suddenly came into full view and Jeff slammed on the
brakes, “Wow.” From east to west, brownstone trimmed granite stretched across
the top of the plateau for more than 150 feet and, including the mostly
subterranean lower level and the attic rooms in the west wing, comprised four
stories. On the ocean-facing south side, two massive conical-roofed towers
adorned the corners of the main wing, while a third was inset into the angle created
by the northeast corner of the main wing and the diagonally set east wing. Jeff
was reminded of photos he had seen of English and French baronial manors;
Wrentham House was so much more than a ‘house,’ but not quite a fortress. He
slowly drove around the circular drive and stopped in front of the large
double-door arched entry alcove, got out and stood for a while with a wry
smile, just taking in the grandeur of the place. All the photos he’d seen
didn’t do it justice. It was glorious. It was perfect.