13
Birthday
The next three days were filled with adrenaline. The bridge in the habitat became mission control for the cargo landers, with the ability to abort the landing if systems appeared to be malfunctioning. Someone was in the bridge at all times monitoring the three vehicles and making occasional last-minute corrections; Earth was almost seven light-minutes away one way and therefore was not in the position to make snap decisions. But all went well and all three landings were perfect, with the vehicles touching down near the centers of the hundred-meter circles that had been cleared of rocks for them.
The cargo on the three new landers was nearly identical to that on the three old landers they had just unloaded. This was intentional; it guaranteed that wherever the shuttles touched down, an entire set of mission supplies could touch down as well, and at the prime landing zone there would always be a backup. The main difference was that the new landers did not come with a tonne of unrolling solar arrays; the shuttles bringing the crew had brought inflatable solar power units, so additional solar power was unnecessary. The first day lander 1 brought a second ranger, which was badly needed; with it, they had far more flexibility and safety with transportation. They used the ranger to excavate the dish-shaped hollow for habitat 2.
Setting up habitat 2 was their major priority, as it gave them a complete housing unit in case of explosion, fire, or some other emergency in habitat 1. They inflated it, then attached to it two more docking units, one to serve as a second pressure suit donning facility. One of the docking unit’s doors was attached to the greenhouse, providing a connection between the two habitats. One of the other doors would attach to their spare docking unit, to which they would “dock” their industrial modules for making chemicals and metals, heavily sandbagged to protect everything against possible explosion. A docking unit on the opposite side of habitat 2 would eventually connect to greenhouse 2, which would provide yet another route between the habitats. Thus the design of the Outpost, from the air, was of two circular habitats connected together by two rectangular greenhouses, one on each side. The design was capable of infinite expansion, producing a network of greenery connecting buried housing.
As soon as the habitat was fully inflated—even before the plastic floor and wall panels were added—greenhouse 2 was set up, giving them the entire interior space to run around in. It was a great antidote to cabin fever; they even opened all the doors one Sunsol and held a footrace to see who could make the 76-meter round trip first. But otherwise, the month of April reduced itself to twelve-hour days of hard work, gluing floors, installing life support units, and running pipes. Tempted as they were to use some of the plastic panels to improve habitat 1—the upper and lower stories were still unfinished—they concentrated instead on habitat 2 and made it comfortable. They did undertake one departure from the plan; they moved the geo-bio lab to habitat 2’s Great Room, almost tripling the space for equipment and samples, and the repair facility from its cramped room in habitat 1 to the geo-bio space in habitat 2. While everyone planned to continue living in habitat 1, habitat 2 was going to be used for work.
In late April the question of the next priority for their work arose. It came up at breakfast every morning. “So, is today the day we can set up the chemical synthesis unit?” asked Ethel, after pouring her morning coffee. “We’ve got the water and electricity we need, and it’ll make the hard plastic panels we need if we want to fix up the basement and reinforce this floor.” She tapped the floor under foot.
“But Will and I wanted to get the Sunwing put together,” replied David. “It’s essential for the surface exploration program. We’ve got six automated rovers to fly to their proposed deployment sites. If we can get them into the field and run them from here, before we leave the Sunwing can fly out and retrieve their sample canisters.”
“I know. I understand. But even half a day of work by four or five of us will get the chemical and plastic synthesis unit running. The sooner, the better; in six months NASA has to finalize the equipment flown here by Columbus 2, and that will be heavily influenced by the results.”
“Ditto with the metallurgical refining equipment,” added Sergei. “It’s urgent that we get the carbonyl synthesis unit running, in particular. But that requires not just assembly of the parts; you geologists have got to go out and get us meteoritic nickel-iron.”
“Anyone can do that,” said David. “We have two rangers.”
“The best nickel-iron is in the highlands, though, not in a fluvial-lacustrine environment, unless we find lag deposits,” said Sergei.
“How long will these projects take?” asked Shinji.
“Assembly?” asked Sergei. “The chemical and plastic synthesis unit is the simplest; a few person days is plenty. It’s mostly plumbed and set up. If they could have flown the entire fractionation tower here intact, we’d have nothing to do, but the lander’s volume constraints prevented it. The carbonyl synthesis unit is a bit more complicated. The Sunwing’s by far the most complicated; it’s several weeks of work.”
“A sixty-meter wingspan doesn’t fit launch or reentry constraints either,” noted Will.
Laura came into the Great Room. “Shinji, Greenhouse 2’s beginning to smell.”
“It’s going to smell pretty bad for the next six months; it’s going to take that long for the sewer digesting bacteria to get fully established in the sand bed. We’ve got two months of accumulated sewage solids for the bacteria to digest and convert into soil.”
“So I should walk through Greenhouse 1 for the next six months?”
Shinji nodded. “In a few weeks we can lay some pipes from our gray water processing unit here in Hab 1 to Greenhouse 2, so that facility can convert shower and toilet water from either habitat.”
Laura nodded. “Yes, make it so. I don’t particularly like walking through the connections and greenhouses to take a shower next door. If we can use this shower more intensely, we can avoid the hassle.”
“Right now we were debating other uses of our collective time, though,” explained Ethel. “I really want to get the chemical and plastic synthesizing unit running, so we can start experimenting with procedures and in the next few months determine whether we can make useful compounds or not. If we can, Columbus 2’s cargo roster is very positively impacted. But Sergei wants to get the carbonyl units installed and our geologists are concerned about the Sunwings.”
“Only one of them,” corrected David.
Laura looked at her colleagues. “Cost-benefit analysis. The chemical and plastic synthesis unit requires the least set-up work and needs its results the soonest. So let’s get it operating today. And I suspect we can have the carbonyl unit functioning by midnight tomorrow if we turn to it once the chemical and plastic unit is operating. Its results are important in the next few months. On sol three some of us will start on the Sunwing, whether the carbonyl unit is working or not. Shinji, how much time can you give to this effort?”
“You mean from the medical and ecological research? Assuming you’re asking us to work twelve hours, I can give you six.”
“Good. Daoud and Moonman, what are your minimal geology commitments? Let’s say we give the folks in the geology control rooms a two day vacation; how bad would that be?”
“Today’s Sunday on Earth, so we have no commitments today,” replied David. “As for tomorrow, I suspect if we said we weren’t going out, most would be relieved. They’re burning the candle at both ends to digest all our work and propose new explorations.”
“I’d make it a three sol moratorium, so that we can get substantial work done on the Sunwing,” suggested Will. “They’ll understand that; they can’t wait for us to acquire the ability to fly the six rovers to their designated landing areas.”
“Okay; it’s vacation time for the geologists,” agreed Laura. “I’ll talk to Mission Control about it in. . . eight hours, when they have enough staff conscious and in the office to consider the plan.”
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With all six of them available after breakfast, work began on the chemical and carbonyl units at once. The suit donning facility attached to Habitat 1 was given to the carbonyl unit, the similar space attached to Habitat 2 to the chemical and plastic synthesizing unit. Both units started with carbon dioxide and hydrogen—made from electrolyzing water, of which they now had plenty, as a result of the well—but there the resemblance ended. The carbonyl making unit combined them in equal quantities, yielding carbon monoxide and water; then they condensed off the water and combined the carbon monoxide with ground up metals at low heat—110 Centigrade for iron—to make carbonyls, such as iron carbonyl (Fe(CO)5). Iron carbonyl was a liquid at room temperature, allowing it to be poured into molds, then it could be heated to 200 Centigrade to drive off the carbon monoxide (which was captured for reuse). The carbonyl converted in a blob of solid iron of any shape or size desirable. The resul was not as strong as hot-rolled steel, but was plenty strong enough for many purposes, such as structure support members for the habitats and reinforcing bars in Martian concrete. Meteorites were an abundant source of nickel-iron for this process. The sifter they used to separate sand from other size fractions had a magnet attached to it and already had accumulated fifty kilograms of iron fragments for them.
The chemical synthesis unit started with three times as much hydrogen as carbon dioxide, enough to yield water and ethylene or C2H2 under the right temperature and pressure conditions, in the presence of the right catalysts. Ethylene was useful as an anesthetic, a ripening agent for fruit, an agent that speeded germination of seeds, and as a fuel for rockets and welders; it was also the starting chemical for polyethylene, polypropylene, and many other very useful plastics. Both units could not turn out tonnes of the material per day; they were experimental units about twice the size of a refrigerator able to make about twenty kilograms at a time. But that was plenty to determine, through experimentation, how larger units could be used. Furthermore, both units produced oxygen as a “waste” gas, a useful byproduct.
They postponed lunch to 2 p.m. and when they broke to eat the chemical synthesis unit was ready to be tested. That afternoon Ethel turned to it and Shinji to his work while the other four continued assembling the carbonyl unit. Sergei and Laura were still hard at work at midnight, at which point the unit was ready to be hauled to its place near the chemical synthesis unit for final assembly.
Breakfast the next morning was late. David took advantage of the quiet to ask Will a question. “How well did your fast go, when you fasted back in March?”
“Okay, I guess. You saw; people adjusted to it. I assume you’re asking about their reactions and not about my stomach.”
“Exactly.”
“Why?”
“Ramadan began the other day. I always have the option of postponing the entire fast to a later date, and I always figured that’s what I’d do. But your once-per-week fast is a good idea. I’d have fewer days to make up later, and it would be something I could do in solidarity with my family and Muslims around the Earth.”
“They’d love to hear about it, too.” Will nodded. “I’d do it. How long will you fast?”
“I suppose, first light to last light, just like on Earth. The Martian day’s a bit longer than Earth’s, but with the thin atmosphere, twilight’s a lot shorter.”
“It’ll come out to be about the same.” Will considered. “Say, when you say your obligatory prayer, which direction do you face?”
“I face roughly toward Earth. In practice, that means looking out the window and facing toward the sun, because the Earth’s always within about forty-five degrees of the sun. Right now it’s about thirty degrees, I think.”
“Ah, so you use the sun. Clever.”
“Believe it or not, I asked an imam about the problem. He said that most interpretations of Islamic law indicate that when you aren’t sure which way Mecca is—because you’re traveling, for example—it is permissible to face anywhere within ninety degrees of Mecca. That’s half the horizon! Since the Earth is always much closer to the sun than that, I figure the sun is a reasonably good indicator of direction. Why?”
“Because Bahá'ís have an obligatory prayer, too, and we’re supposed to face our qiblih as well. Since it’s on Earth, I think I’ll adopt your practice of facing the sun!”
David smiled. “It seems to work.”
Just then Ethel entered the room, so they switched topics. Within a few minutes, Shinji and Sergei arrived as well. Then Laura arrived. She was angry. “Has anyone see the news?”
“Do you mean, the Dow’s down another ten percent?” asked Will.
“No. Well, maybe this isn’t mainstream yet. I just got a videomail from Kimball.” Captain Heather Kimball had been the cap com lately. “She says that negotiations are underway to cut Columbus 2 in half: one ITV, one shuttle, and a crew of four only. And no cargo landers. It’d save a billion and a half dollars.”
“And cripple capacity here.” Will shook his head. “Haven’t they learned any lessons from history? ISS was practically useless for years because it was limited to a crew of three. Whenever they’ve cut Shackleton to four, half the university geologists doing lunar science had to twiddle their thumbs.”
“They still haven’t recovered from your departure, Moonman,” added David. “And what about safety? They had better not miss the Outpost here, or they’d be dead.”
“I think the plan is that we’d load up the shuttle remaining here with a ranger, portahab, and supplies, so that it could be flown to them in an emergency,” said Laura. “But even the interplanetary cruise, as smooth as it seems, needs real backup. Furthermore, the lunar fueling system is built on the assumption that there is a certain level of demand for fuel. Cut demand and you really don’t save any money.”
“Could the landers really be dropped?” asked Shinji. “That seems dangerous to me.”
“I suspect even an eight-person Columbus could manage with one cargo flight, at the rate we’re going. They won’t need the hydrogen, right?” Laura looked at Will.
Will nodded. “We’re extracting one tonne a week from the well, which is already enough to refuel two shuttles four years from now. The rate of water production can only increase.”
“So we’re talking about each shuttle having a cargo capacity from Earth of fifteen tones. With the habitats and greenhouses already set up here, that may be enough anyway; the main thing Columbus 2 has to bring is a third ranger and portahab and more manufacturing equipment. A cargo flight from Earth to Mars orbit could carry fifteen more, and a shuttle could fly up and pick it up to bring it to the surface.” Laura nodded, satisfied.
“But once this outpost is set up, it takes two and a half full time people to run it,” said Shinji. “A team of four will have less than half its time available for science.”
“And if they sent eight on Columbus 2, think of the results!” exclaimed Will. “Wait until the Mars Exploration Society hears about this.”
“Yes,” said Laura. “That’s why they’re keeping it quiet, I’m sure.”
“Who; pro or con?” asked Sergei, and they all laughed. The Mars Colonization Society had an unscientific, popular, and slightly fanatical reputation; it was not clear which side would benefit from their loud opposition to the cuts.
“Well, it sounds like our manufacturing experiments may be taking on more importance,” suggested Ethel. “Because they can lead to a reduction in mass imported from Earth. This habitat would be two tonnes lighter if the structural members had been made here, and the greenhouse could be at least a tonne lighter. If we could make wire and pipes as well, that’s save maybe another tonne.”
“Yes, let’s figure this out,” agreed Laura. “Columbus 2 is designed nominally to be a duplicate of Columbus 1; that means hauling nine tonnes of hydrogen in each shuttle, a full set of consumables, and sending three cargo landers. But eliminating the hydrogen pretty much eliminates two of the landers! Let’s get the carbonyl unit set up and running as soon as possible. Can we delay the Sunwing by a week?”
“Is that really necessary?” asked David. “Look, Laura, if this is that important, let’s lengthen our work week for a month or so.”
Will nodded. Laura looked at the others; only Shinji looked hesitant. “Okay,” she said. “We’ll work a full day Satursol instead of half, and make the official work day twelve hours instead of ten. That gives us seventeen extra hours of work per person per week. Can we handle that?”
“For a week or two; it’ll be worth it,” replied Will.
“We’ll give it a try for a week and revisit the issue,” said Laura.
That settled the matter. They all returned to breakfast. Will looked out the window and contemplated the northern escarpment, which was impressively through the porthole. What would this place be like in a few years? How much could the six of them accomplish in their remaining time? He was finding Mars more and more interesting all the time.
They all finished up their meals and headed for work. Ethel cornered Laura near the bathroom for a private moment. “Will’s birthday is Satursol,” she said. “I thought we should start celebrating birthdays here. It’ll be his 35th, too.”
“My fortieth was a few months ago.”
“I know; now. I didn’t know then, Laura. But I think we should celebrate everyone’s birthday from now on.”
Laura nodded. “Okay; I agree, it’s a good plan. Are you trying for a surprise?”
“Hum; that hadn’t occurred to me. Maybe we could manage it, though, if he’s outside all day and there are two of us—maybe Shinji and I—doing the cooking. I think we have all the ingredients to make a birthday cake.”
“I’ll assign him to work on the runway that day; that’ll keep him busy! I think you’re already scheduled for Satursol lunch and David for supper; maybe I can switch the two of you around.”
“Thanks, Laura.”
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With the concern about Columbus 2, the six members of Columbus 1 redoubled their efforts. By Satursol they had made their first carbonyl and had used the process to separate iron, nickel, and the platinum group of metals from each other. Meteoritic nickel-iron was richer in platinum, iridium, and other rare, expensive metals than typical ores on Earth; the carbonyl making unit had the ability to separate them from each other because each liquid metal carbonyl reverted back to a solid metal at a different temperature. Thus the mix of metallic liquids could be heated, the first metal deposited, the remaining liquid poured off and heated to a higher decomposition temperature, etc., separating the metals progressively. Eventually, export of platinum group metals was a potential Mars profit center, as their value typically exceeded ten million dollars per tonne.
Ethel also had considerable success with plastic synthesis, devoting two long days to making her first batch of polyethylene. It was rather soft, but it was a start.
Progress on the Sunwing was the most exciting to watch. It was a biplane with wings sixty meters from tip to tip, 2.25 meters wide, and staggered (the lower wing was one meter behind the top one). The wings’ 270 square meters of surface was covered with solar cells that had an impressively high efficiency (32%) converting sunlight shining above and an 18 % efficiency converting light shining on it from the bottom. Peak solar energy was about forty kilowatts at noontime. Assembling the wing from prefabricated five-meter sections was a long, tiring effort, for they had to be carefully wired together; furthermore, a small propeller and motor had to be attached to each section of upper wing and tested. Since the flying wing had literally thousands of solar cells and twelve propellers, all able to operate independently, massive electrical and mechanical failure were inconceivable.
Also complicated to construct was the fuselage with its computer controls, fuel cells, methane/oxygen storage tanks, and its heated carbon dioxide takeoff and landing system. Electricity from the wings could be routed to a cylinder filled with fifty kilograms of beryllium bearings to heat them to as much as 1700 degrees Centigrade, through which liquid carbon dioxide—compressed by an electric motor from the Martian atmosphere—could be forced, producing a rocket strong enough to effect a vertical takeoff or landing. In this way the vehicle could deploy or pick up probes up to 200 kilograms in mass without the need for a runway.
The crew assembled the Sunwing with great care and excitement because they felt its importance. If Sunwings worked as expected, they had the potential of opening up the planet. A crew exploring Mars could be resupplied by Sunwing. Sunwings could use a hook to grab sample canisters for return to the Outpost. They could explore the canyons and volcanoes in great detail at a very low altitude, providing higher resolution data than satellites. And they could serve as communications relays for ground crews in canyons, boulder fields, and other places where communications were limited. Riding the winds, Sunwings could achieve average ground speeds of almost three hundred kilometers per hour; far faster than surface transport. Larger models might eventually be used to move even heavier cargos, such as ore. If the model proved reliable, it might even be upgraded for human transportation by added a light-weight passenger capsule large enough to seat two surrounded by airbags in case of a crash..
After long day’s work assembling and testing, Will and David came inside, washed up, and enjoyed the supper prepared for them.
When the birthday cake came out—minus candles, for none existed on Mars—Will was quite surprised. “What’s this!”
“Happy birthday to you. . .” The others all sang to him, and he sat with an embarrassed smile on his face.
“There are no candles to blow out, so you’ll have to cut the cake instead,” said Ethel when they finished.
“Oh, sure. Thank you, everyone.” Will leaned over to shake hands with Shinji and Sergei and patted David on the back. He shook Laura’s hand as well and kissed Ethel on the cheek.
“Oh, thank you too,” Ethel replied, a bit surprised by his gesture but obviously very pleased.
“Ethel did all the work and deserves the credit,” agreed Shinji.
“Will wasn’t planning to kiss you anyway,” replied Laura, with a laugh.
“You baked the cake?” Will asked, surprised. Ethel had frequently confessed her complete culinary helplessness.
She nodded. “It really wasn’t bad. Shinji said to ignore instincts and stick to the recipe, since instincts formed in Earth kitchens are all wrong here. So I did.”
“I hope the result is good,” said Laura.
Will dished out slices of the rich cake, strawberry with chocolate frosting. Since their strawberry plants had started to bear again, the cake had real berries; real eggs from their chickens as well. Will took a bite and nodded. “Congratulations.”
“Really?”
“He’s right; it’s very good,” confirmed David.
Ethel beamed.
“So, Moonman, have you any wisdom on the other side of the great divide?” asked Laura.
“Thirty-five? I assume you can offer advice from across some other divides.”
“I can; I just passed forty. But today is your day.”
“Hum. Well, I’ve always found years divisible by five to be my lucky years. I first walked on the moon when I was thirty.”
“Of course, you got your PhD at 27 and joined the corps at 28,” said Ethel.
“Yes; not everything fell on a year divisible by five,” agreed Will. “And this is the year I’ve first felt a bit of slowness and a few pains.”
Sergei laughed; at age 43, he was the old man on board. “I assure you, it won’t be the last! I’m beginning to understand the idea that it’s all downhill after age thirty.”
“Especially forty,” agreed Laura, with a sigh. “David, how old are you?”
“Thirty-seven, like Shinji.”
“And I guess I’m the baby on board,” added Ethel. “I’m still thirty-four.”
“By just a few months, though,” said Will. “Watch out, I’ll plan quite a culinary response to this!”
“Good; then we all benefit!” replied Laura, and they all laughed.