3
2015AS
“Boy, it still stinks in here!” exclaimed Will.
“Be thankful we were able to rearrange our space to put all our horticultural cabinets in here,” replied Ethel, picking lettuce inside one of them. “Of course, the volatile imbalances are driving David crazy.”
“He just needs to relax a bit. If the two ITVs have slightly different masses, it doesn’t make a big difference to the rotation and the relative gravity. We can rebalance them every week, rather than every day.”
Ethel laughed. “That’s not his view.”
“Laura’s terrorizing him about it. She needs to relax.”
“She has been hard to deal with since the accident. I suppose it’s the stress.”
“What stress?”
Ethel looked up. “It isn’t easy to be the female Commander of an historic mission like this, you know. She feels she has to prove herself to the entire world. And the way all of us was selected was so political, you just don’t know what to make of it.”
“It wasn’t that political.”
Ethel laughed a bit. “It’s easy for you to say, Will! You were the natural choice; you’ve published more on lunar geology than anyone else in the astronaut corps and you know Mars really well also. The rumor is you didn’t even want the assignment.”
“What? Of course I wanted this assignment!”
“But the moon’s your baby, not the Red Planet.”
“True, I’ve made my career on lunar geology. And I love roving around the moon; it’s incredibly exhilarating for me. But I don’t dislike Mars. It’ll probably grow on me. The moon did.”
“I hope it grows on me, too. Anyway, consider Laura’s situation. NASA has two slots for Americans and one is filled by their best geologist. He can’t be commander because he isn’t military, and the commander, so far, has always been someone with military experience; it’s tradition. NASA wants to appoint Jerry McCord commander; he’s commanded a mission to Sun-Earth Lagrange 2 and the mission to Asteroid 2011AR. But NASA is under pressure to appoint a woman as well. So, voila! They chose a woman Air Force pilot to be Commander who’s flow one mission to Sun-Earth L2 and only one flight to the moon. She’s not Commander because she’s Laura Stillwell, but because Will Elliott’s the American geologist.”
“They could have made a European the Commander.”
“Not a chance, not on Columbus 1. The Commander had to be American.”
“I suppose. Perhaps that explains why she tried to bump me. Well, I can’t live my life as if I am the cause of Laura’s troubles. It’s not my fault. Maybe you should remind her of that.”
“I’ll keep trying. But she’s been rough on everyone. Sergei and she have had a few fights.”
“I noticed one, but with my quarters and work space over here, I haven’t see her in action as much as you have. David’s upset, too.”
“She’s pushed him around, as well.”
Will sighed. “Well, I don’t want to backbite about the Commander. Look at this one!” He held up a carrot that was about fifteen centimeters long. “So big, and it’s only six weeks old!”
“High CO2 concentrations and constant light will do it. It’s amazing how much food these cabinets make.”
“Shinji told me the other day they’re recycling all our carbon dioxide output and producing plenty of spare plant matter to keep the composting and soil organisms thriving as well, not to mention the chickens and rabbits.”
“It’s a good experiment; it makes me feel much better about the trip.”
Will frowned. “Why?”
“I’d rather be going to Mars with a greenhouse and a few chickens and rabbits than with just supplies; the thought we can grow at least some of our food is comforting.”
“Oh, that’s what you mean. Yes, I agree. I even have some seeds with me, you know.”
“Really? Does Shinji know?”
“No. Yamamoto knew; he encouraged the idea. But I haven’t told Shinji yet. A lot of the seeds are for flowers; I wanted to make sure we had things that were not just strictly practical. I’ve got a few tree seeds as well.”
“Trees!”
Will shrugged. “Why shouldn’t we have trees on Mars? Long after we’ve left, they’ll still be growing.”
“I’m not sure where!”
“I was thinking in the great room of the hab; it’s got a nice, big window.”
“That’s an idea.” Ethel closed the cabinet she had been harvesting and opened another one. “Oregano for the pasta tonight.”
“Here, let me help; I want a lot of oregano.” Will walked over, looked in, and immediately shook his head. “Maybe next week.”
“Or the week after; oregano doesn’t seem to like hydroponics.”
“I guess not. So, yesterday you were telling me about MIT.”
“Oh, that’s right, and the strange circumstances that got me in, as an undergraduate. I was just about the only Scot there, of course. But it worked out pretty well and made me understand Americans.”
“Are we that inscrutable?”
“No, but American culture is different; certainly there are aspects that strike Europeans as utterly barbaric, like the fetish with guns and capital punishment. It takes some getting used to.”
“I agree, I never understood those two things either. Laura would, though.”
“Yes, she’s a southerner, and quite conservative. I am always surprised by that. Now your parents; one was black and one white, right?”
“One was multiracial, actually. My father was himself half black and half white, with a bit of Cherokee in him as well. My mother’s German, Polish, and Mexican; her mother’s mother was from Veracruz. So I guess I’m pretty typically American, in terms of mixing.”
“That’s typical of everyone nowadays, isn’t it? I may say I’m a Scot, but my father’s mother was English and my mother was raised in Canada. Sergei may be Russian, but he has a German last name and his father was a Muslim named Ali and who spoke Kazakh. And David is half French, half Moroccan.”
“I call him Daoud in private, you know. That’s his real name.”
“Really? I didn’t know. What about Laura? I suppose she’s an ethnic mix as well.”
“Probably. Shinji is just Japanese; but then, most Japanese are ‘pure’ blood. I’m glad we represent the diverse flowers of the human garden. It’s the way the first human expedition to Mars should be.”
“I agree. I just wish our little United Nations got along better.”
“It is a problem,” agreed Will.
They went back to picking vegetables in silence; Will was tackling the beans. “Say, you promised to give me another lesson about Martian crustal rocks, remember?” said Ethel. “Your explanation of the history of Martian volcanism was really illuminating.”
“Good; I wish we were more sure about the progression of magma types. The various landers have given us a rough picture of crustal geochemistry, though. There are two basic rock types, andesitic and basaltic, rather like the terrestrial crust, though the andesitic is not as high in silica as the earth’s continental crust, and is much rarer. That’s to be expected; Mars never had much plate tectonics. Say, I should show you. Want to see?”
“See what?”
“The two basic rock types, I have samples. The lunar surface has Mars rocks and if you tune your eyes, you can spot them.”
“And you’re famous for that. Sure, show me.”
“Then come with me.” He turned and headed up the ladder shaft; she followed right behind. One level up was his bedroom; after a week sleeping in the Olympus, he had returned to his room. She immediately was curious and started to look around. “Your parents?”
“Yes. Mom’s retired and dad passed away a few years ago.”
“Do you have kids?”
“No. We wanted to have kids, but Jamie didn’t want to be a single parent and I wouldn’t quit the Corps. She asked me for a divorce about two years ago.”
“I’m sorry. My husband and I divorced, too. The Corps is not an easy life for a married person or a family person.”
“No, not at all.” Will picked up a small rock. “This is andesite, and it is pretty typical if our samples and the chemical analyses are to be trusted.”
“Hah.” Ethel turned the piece over and scrutinized it closely. “Large crystals.”
“Yes, it’s usually intrusive and slow cooling. Here’s basalt; browner on weathered surfaces, black on fresh surfaces, and microcrystalline. Mars has a lot of vesicular basalt, but this piece lacks them.”
“Quite a contrast.” She looked at his samples. “What else do you have?”
“Well, the usual. Chondrite, like 2015AS.” He handed her a soft, grayish, dusty ball. “This is pretty weathered. Then there’s the V-type, which came from Vesta, and a stony meteorite, and a nickel-iron.”
She took the chunk of metal from him. “Pretty, actually.”
“Yes, I think so, too.”
“What’s this? Very pretty!”
“Impact glass; it’s usually not as multicolored as this piece.”
“Wow.” Ethel picked up a piece and looked it over closely.
“Take it, if you’d like. I have several spares, as you can see. This was a sample I collected as a gift.”
“Well, I don’t want to take it away from someone else!”
“I didn’t collect it for someone in particular; I picked it up to give away. You can help me discharge my obligation.”
Ethel smiled. “You’re very kind, Will.” She put the piece in her pocket.
They headed back to the Cimmerium with their bags full of produce. There Will started cooking; he was a good cook—the best one on board—and he tended to make the meals special. As soon as he arrived Sergei left, so he had to keep one ear on the bridge as well.
The fax machine began to receive a document; unusual, since most things arrived by email as attachments. They used special paper that could be passed through a cleaning solution and wiped clean of all ink, allowing it to be reused up to ten times. When the machine finally stopped, Will wiped his hands and picked it up. His Russian wasn’t great, but it was sufficient to understand what had arrived. He immediately called Sergei. “Hey Sergei, this is Will. You just got a private document by fax.”
“Thanks, I’ll be right there,” Sergei replied.
It was more like seconds than minutes when he came down the ladder shaft and grabbed the document, which Will, embarrassed, pretended he had not seen. Then Sergei hurried off to read the draft of his divorce settlement.
He hadn’t returned 90 minutes later when dinner was served. The five of them gathered around the pasta and salad and munched down. “Will, you are incredible,” said Laura. “Master cook as well as master geologist. I vote that you cook dinner every night!”
“Maybe not every night,” replied Will with a wan smile and concern in his voice.
“Where’s Sergei?” asked David. “He loves Will’s pasta.”
“He received a fax about an hour and a half ago,” replied Will.
“It must be his divorce agreement,” said Laura. “It was expected.”
“So, how many of us are divorced now?” asked Ethel. “Four?” She looked around, then fixed on Shinji.
“Not me; I’ve never been married,” he replied.
“That’s one solution,” commented Laura.
“Well, a lot of people of my generation haven’t gotten married,” Shinji said, a bit defensively.
“One of the reasons the population of Japan will have halved by the end of this century,” agreed Laura. “So, David, how do you do it?”
“I have a traditional wife, to some extent, and she lives with my extended family, so she has a support system.”
“The traditional approach,” summarized Laura. “I could have used a husband like that.”
“Everyone wants a ‘wife,’” agreed Ethel. “And no one wants to be one.”
“The solution, clearly, is partnership,” said Will. “Split the work fairly, and keep the husband and wife in the same place, and it really isn’t difficult.”
Laura laughed. “But men don’t want to split the work fairly and they don’t want to stay put; at least not the ones in the Astronaut Corps!”
“You’re away a long time; it isn’t easy,” agreed David.
Will picked up Sergei’s plate and loaded it with pasta and salad. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’d leave him alone,” cautioned Laura.
Will ignored her. He looked up the ladder shaft to make sure Sergei wasn’t coming down, then pushed a button for the fourth floor. The platform he was standing on began to move up the shaft. It was easier to take the elevator than climb a ladder with a plate of pasta in one hand.
He got off at the fourth floor, where Laura’s room was also located; Sergei had never moved back to the Ausonia the way David and Will had. He knocked.
“Who is it?”
“Sergei, I’ve got your dinner.”
“Oh. Thanks, come on in.”
Will opened the door and walked in slowly, mindful that the roughly lunar gravity required care with plates of food. Sergei was sitting at his desk. He had puffy eyes. Will noticed that Earth was visible out the window.
“You’ve got a good view from this side of Columbus.”
“Yes; I’ve been staring at it, watching it move in a circle as we rotate.”
“I thought you’d like some pasta; you’ve always said you like it the way I make it.”
“I do. You’re very kind, Will.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
Sergei sighed. “I wish someone could persuade my wife not to divorce me, but I doubt you can do that.”
“No, I’m afraid not. We were just talking downstairs about how most of us are divorced here. My wife and I split up about eighteen months ago. It was a really terrible blow to me and I was wounded by it for a long time.”
“I bet. What did you do?”
“I cried a little, then moved on. What can you do?”
Sergei said nothing. He stared out the window. “Thanks, Will. I appreciate your effort to help, I really do.”
“Any time, Sergei. I guess I’ll go back down, now.”
The Russian nodded. Will headed back out of the room and rode the elevator platform down to the great room at the bottom of the Cimmerium.
“How’s he doing?” asked Ethel.
“Alright, I guess.”
“You should leave him alone, Will,” said Laura, clearly irritated by the effort.
Will decided not to reply; there was no reason to argue with her. They continued to eat in silence until someone asked about the American presidential election due to culminate in a mere month, and the conversation turned to politics.
Out came the after dinner coffee and small portions of orange sherbet. David and Will finally headed up the shaft to their rooms and Shinji piled the dishes into the dish washer; he was on cleanup duty that evening. Laura headed up to her room.
But first she knocked on Sergei’s door. “How are you doing?”
A pause. “Okay, I guess.”
Laura opened the door. Sergei was at his desk and had eaten about half his plate of food. “I’m glad you aren’t starving yourself.”
“Well, I guess I could be eating more.”
“Is it the divorce settlement?”
He nodded. “It says exactly what we had discussed, before departure. But it’s bad enough to talk about it and worse to actually see it in print.”
“It’s pretty final looking, once it’s on paper.” She walked over. “But what can you do? You won’t be back to Earth for thirty months.”
“I know, that’s the problem. I’ll sign it and fax it back tomorrow.” He shrugged.
She put her hand on his shoulder. “My husband and I split up three years ago, and it took me at least a year to recover. Divorces are pretty painful. Thank God we didn’t have any kids to drag through the process.”
“Yes, I’m relieved by that as well.”
She began to rub his shoulders with both hands. He looked up at her, surprised. She looked steadily at him. “Let’s make love,” she said.
Sergei was surprised for a moment. He looked at her, considering the offer. He stood, and she was still uncertain what he would do. He looked back at her intensely. Then he kissed her.
-----------------------------------
Their flyby of 2015AS occurred two days later. The little rock was heading towards aphelion about thirty million kilometers past Mars. Columbus was catching up to it gradually, thus they closed on it quite slowly and easily. As a result, the flyby took place over twenty hours.
“One point three kilometers per second,” said David, shaking his head. “That’s all we would have needed to rendezvous with it.”
“And that would have required about twenty-five tonnes of lunar fuel,” agreed Will. “Doable, for sure. But you know how it is; the first mission to Mars doesn’t do any extras.”
“I know. But if we’re careful and the equipment works as expected, Columbus 2 will probably visit 2009KM20, or so they say.”
“I hope so.” Will concentrated on the equipment; Ethel was fixing a bad circuit and he had to give her feedback occasionally.
“Of course, Phobos would require only half a kilometer per second of delta vee to visit, and another half to head for Mars,” persisted David.
“After we get to Mars, we can ask permission for that. It’s the only way the fuel making plant is going to function properly; they can’t seem to resolve some of the problems by remote control.”
“What are the chances we’ll get the green light for that?”
Will shrugged. “One percent. The plant is making fuel very slowly using the one functioning drill and there’s already an adequate emergency supply for us; furthermore, plant number 2 is on the way and it should function okay. Besides, NASA never wanted it; from their point of view, it was a superfluous Russian contribution to the mission. So Columbus 2 will get the green light for the repair mission, and by then the Russians may land an inflatable hab and some emergency supplies there anyway.”
“I suspect you’re right.” David sounded discouraged.
The communications line to Ethel beeped. “Will, check the radar; is it on line now?”
Will pressed an icon and was pleased to see that the software was working. “Affirmative! What did you do?”
“Gave the system a kick,” she replied cryptically.
“Thanks, Ethel.” Will turned to the radar, which quickly acquired a good lock on 2015AS. “Yes, the entire remote sensing package is functioning well, now,” he exclaimed to Laura, in the bridge on the other ship and to ground control in Houston. “Resetting the radar fixed the problem. I’m powering up the laser now.” He pushed a button on-screen and the ship’s laser began to pull power from the solar panels. Fortunately, Columbus 1 had four sets of solar arrays that made a total of forty kilowatts; plenty of power for highly efficient life support recycling systems, plus extras like the deep space sensor array on each ITV.
A detailed radar image of 2015AS appeared on the screen; far more detailed than any system on Earth could prepare. Will stared at the little rock, a chunk of debris ejected from the outer asteroid belt, probably by a perturbation caused by a close encounter with Jupiter. Some day, if Earth was not vigilant, 2015AS could collide with humanity’s home; the forty-six-meter object would make an explosion similar in size to the Tunguska event, which, over a city, could kill a million people.
The laser’s sight appeared on the screen as well; that meant it was powered up and ready. Will touched his finger on the screen and pulled the sight over to a depression in the surface. Then he pushed the “fire” button, sending the pulse of intense light at the asteroid. A spot appeared on screen.
“I’ve got my first hit, right on target,” he reported. He looked to David, who nodded.
“We got a spectrum,” he said. A moment later it popped up on the screen in front of David and Will leaned over to look.
“Yep; that looks like stony meteorite to me,” said Will.
“That’s to be expected,” said David. “But even the expected is welcome; it’s data.”
“Exactly. If we planted a driller on a rock like this, right now, we could extract thousands of tonnes of water and other volatiles. It could be worth a lot of money, some day.”
“This one, and a half million other objects in this size range,” agreed David.
Will maneuvered the laser to another spot and fired it. They had twenty hours of work ahead of them; enough time to gather lots of data.
© 2004 Robert H. Stockman