3
Proposals
In the next two weeks, and in spite of the fact that Roger, Érico, Carmen, Monika, and Shinji headed out on a month-long expedition to the northeastern chaoslands of Aurorae, considerable progress was made on the new projects. Madhu harvested a new crop of soybeans and extracted three kilograms of soybean oil from it. Paul managed to purify six kilograms of discarded lubricant, added a half kilo of light hydrocarbons to it that he made with the chemical synthesis unit, and added the soybean oil, producing 9.5 kilograms of reconstituted lubricant. The various chemical tests on the substance all came out positive. They loaded some of it into ranger 2 so that the month-long expedition could serve as a test.
Perhaps more important was Ethel’s work with the copper. The tonne of copper ore was crushed into small grains and soaked in an acid bath with iron present, precipitating out the copper. Then the latter was collected, rinsed, dried, and melted using a methane-oxygen heater; the softened copper was drawn through a wire maker—they did have that—the separate strands were braided together, the bundle was wrapped in plastic tape (which Ethel was able to make), then dipped into a plastic sealant bath. Since they had few pieces of equipment directly related to the work, a lot of it required improvisation and work by hand. Nevertheless, in two weeks Ethel managed to make five hundred meters of copper wire. Electrical tests showed that it was fine for use in their electrical system, though it did not meet the quality standards for communications systems.
“The guys in the machine shop in Houston are hard at work, figuring out how I can make some simple machines to speed up the process,” Ethel told Will one morning. “We’ve got plenty of small motors here that can be used for spooling the wire as it’s made and for braiding it or wrapping plastic insulation around it. It’ll still take maybe ten times as many person hours per kilometer of wire as on Earth, but the result will still be cheaper.”
“Great. So we’ve freed up the entire 350 kilos?”
She nodded. “Except they will send us about thirty kilos of parts that I can’t easily make here, so the net gain is 320 kilos. Paul and I have been talking, though, and we can cut another 100 kilos from the spares allocation. Some of the parts that we’ve essentially thrown away could be repaired temporarily if we had to, so we’ve decreased the allocations for those parts to the predicted replacement level. If the actual replacement rate is higher, we’ll have to scramble using the old parts.”
“If the two of you are sure, send me an email and I’ll pass it on to Houston. Copy the relevant experts in Houston, too, so they know and can weigh in.”
“Alright.” She leaned over and gave him a kiss. “I’m heading back to the shop now. We want to make some of the wire-making machine right now, while the ideas and issues are fresh in our minds. The rest has to wait until Columbus 3 arrives, not only for the parts, but because we have too many other things to do to prepare for their arrival.”
“How is the manufacture of parts coming?”
“It was going fine until the wire making derailed it. I’ll need your help in another week to put up the partitions in the basement of Habitat 2. The design utilizes the curved floor pretty well—areas where people stand are in the middle where the ceiling is the highest, desks and beds are in an area with a lower ceiling, storage is located where the floor meets the ceiling—but the resulting design will be a lot of work to implement. We’re also using sheet metal for almost everything, which involves a lot of cutting and welding. We’ll be lucky to get one basement complete before they arrive.”
“But that’ll be sufficient to house people temporarily until Habitat 4 arrives. That’s the main priority.” Will stood. “If you need me, I’ll be in the Prospector control area, then I’ll be doing maintenance in Habitat 1.”
They both headed their various ways. Keeping the telerobotically operated rovers, or Prospectors, operating was a problem when they were all occupied with other tasks. Three were still functioning; six were broken and scattered across Mars awaiting rescue; four more were on their way from Earth. One had climbed ten kilometers up the side of Ascreus Mons, one of Mars’s big volcanoes. When controlled from Earth, it was difficult to move a Prospector more than about one hundred meters per sol. Most of the movement was performed by the Prospector itself, utilizing image recognition and self-steering away from obstacles. But when someone on Mars “drove” the Prospector remotely, five hundred meters per sol, and ample science, was achievable. The pattern of movement was such that a single driver could handle at least two and as many as four Prospectors at once; one drove it, then set it about to doing something—such as analyzing a rock sample or scanning the area from the new location—while one drove a different Prospector. Even running two or three Prospectors, one achieved perhaps a quarter as much geology as one could in a pressure suit, but the Prospectors were scattered about in areas that humans would not visit for some time.
But before Will could get the virtual reality helmet on, his attaché beeped. It was Jerry McCord.
“Good sol, Will. A few weeks ago I promised you a report about commercialization on the moon. I think we did a pretty good job at Shackleton, but there are critics. Do you know Theo Brown? He’s an electrical engineer and was on the moon putting together the solar arrays when you were there. He’s been articulate about his concerns, so you might want to email him if you want another opinion.
“We’ve avoided some of the tackier strategies, like plastering corporate logos all over vehicles or the sides of buildings. Our big step was into lunar tourism. It has indeed taken time from other tasks, at least temporarily. The hotel unit was installed last year and can accommodate eight tourists; it’s the standard habitat, just like your habitats, but more attractive and comfortable inside. Some would call it luxurious. The transportation system can haul up to seven people to the moon at once and the ultimate goal is twenty-six flights per year, or one every two weeks; that would keep the facility full and would occupy two vehicles full time. But the four million dollar price per ticket is pretty restrictive and each trip requires fifty tonnes of lunar oxygen and hydrogen fuel, some of which has to be electrolyzed and refrigerated in low earth orbit. It’ll take years to grow the infrastructure to support the fuel production. This year I think they project four tourist flights; three are in the summer, one during Christmas vacation. The guys at Shackleton grumble a lot because they have to drop all their research to take the tourists around. It takes at least four people to occupy and otherwise serve them. But the projection is that tourists will drive down the cost of moon transportation, and that’s the exciting prospect. The number of flights to the moon per year have been doubled already. Shackleton Station’s thirty percent larger. The hotel has been used to house professional couples and long-term workers during the off-season. Lunar fuel output had to double and the resulting cost is thirty percent less, per kilogram; that will benefit Columbus 3 as well. It will take a hundred tonnes of lunar fuel to get us on our way in six weeks.
“I don’t see tourism coming to Mars any time soon, of course, so I don’t know whether this is of any help to you. Let me know. Bye.”
Will immediately hit reply. “Good sol, Jerry. I wasn’t interested in tourism, so much. What sort of discussions have been going on over commercializing fuel production? I gather there were some. And I’ve heard that moon rocks have been made available for sale; what was the result? There has been some talk about exporting lunar iron, copper, titanium, and of course there’s always Helium-3. I can’t see tourists coming here any time soon, unfortunately. Bye.”
Will turned back to the work at hand; Prospectors. He put on his virtual reality equipment and switched to the Prospector in southern Hellas, which was examining both the basin’s rim and associated volcanic features. He moved the Prospector twenty meters over very rough and bumpy terrain to a particular boulder, probably ejecta from deep inside Mars, and placed the sensor package against it. He set the cameras to scan the ground for possible fragments they could pick up.
Then he turned to Sunwing 2, flying high over the northeastern chaos of Aurorae. It was being controlled from Earth, but periodically someone at the Outpost checked in to make sure everything was alright. Finished, he was about to turn back to the Hellas Prospector when he saw that McCord had replied. He projected the videomail into the virtual reality helmet, a strange experience because it almost made McCord look like he was sitting nearby.
“Oh, that kind of commercialization. We have never officially made moon rocks available for sale, but the twenty-five or so tourists per year bring back a few kilos of rocks in their personal baggage, and some of that gets on the market. Some astronauts have done the same. I think we should haul a few tonnes of rocks back to Earth every year for sale. It appears that moon rocks that are pretty sell for more than ordinary ones. The going rate is about five dollars per gram, which is half the value of gold. I suspect Mars rocks with fossils in them would command a better price. The fossils provide authentication, too. There was a scam a few years ago when some of the ‘moon rocks’ on sale through a reputable science company proved to be anorthosite from the Adirondacks. The microfossils in Mars rocks will guarantee their authenticity.
“Another thing occurs to me; you guys usually collected samples the size of a fist, but analysis requires only a few grams. Half a typical sample could be sold and the other half retained for future scientific study.
“As for commercializing fuel production, this has stalled for various reasons. It isn’t clear it will save money and may raise costs instead. Companies worry about the financial risk. And no one is sure that land on the moon can be sold, because of international treaties, though long-term leases should be possible. Until that’s resolved, it’s unclear what authority can be devolved to a commercial outfit. The problems with titanium and such are similar; we just don’t have the developed technology and the developed market yet. That reminds me, a small number of individuals persistently express an interest in buying plots of lunar real estate. Most of the tourists wish they had a piece of land of their own that they could visit. If the ownership issue can be cleared up, lunar land sales could be small but significant. Bye.”
That was interesting. Will hit reply. He barely remembered to take off the virtual reality helmet, which would have made for an interesting video image. “Thanks; that’s the information I was looking for. I’ve been wondering about sales of Mars rocks and land. Bye.”
He turned back to the task at hand: the Prospectors. The Hellas Prospector was still analyzing, so he switched to the Prospector on the western slopes of the Elysium uplift, where it was skirting the edge of a fairly recent lava flow; a sample flown back to the Outpost by the Sunwing last year had been potassium-argon dated at 25.7 million years. But in spite of his interest in the geology, the questions of expanding Mars exploration persisted.
Will was so concerned because governmental interest in exploring the Red Planet had apparently peaked. The U.S. wanted to cut its contingent in Columbus 4 in half; Brazil wanted to give up its slot. Of course, China wanted to join the partnership of nations and send several astronauts, but the U.S. was vigorously opposing their involvement. Columbus 4, tentatively, was scheduled to fly no additional habitats, greenhouses, or vehicles. No automated cargo vehicles were scheduled for use.
American support was soft because of the Swift shuttle. It promised major cost savings; it could put eight tonnes into orbit for eight million dollars. But NASA and its contractors had tens of thousands of workers dependent on the use of the EELVs—Evolved Expendable Launch Vehicles—that cost at least six million dollars for every tonne of cargo placed in low earth orbit. They were refusing to switch to the Swift, claiming the Swift Corporation had pirated technology from the Columbus Project and refused to compensate them, and had cut corners in quality control that made the vehicle impossible to man-rate for NASA personnel.
The discovery of microfossils had hastened the exploration timeline; Mars had not been scheduled ever to have more than sixteen personnel. Will and Ethel’s marriage had helped, also, in terms of the popularity and permanence of the mission. But further expansion of Mars operations required at least a change in NASA’s launch vehicles, and possibly another breakthrough in the study of Mars as well. Will was searching for one or the other, even though he knew that one person rarely could set such powerful forces in motion.
He moved the Elysium Prospector to a boulder filled with large vesicles and set it to scanning the surface closely while measuring the rock’s chemical composition. He started to switch back to Hellas when his attaché beeped again. It was a video message from Liz Gordon, a very capable space journalist who had always impressed Will as fair and trustworthy. He pulled off the virtual reality helmet to take a rest and played her message.
“Good sol, Will. You’ve probably heard that there have been rumors over the last two weeks that you were asked to endorse the President of the United States and that you declined because you dislike his politics. I suspect no one has contacted you about the story. It doesn’t seem to have any legs. But today I heard it again from a source—a Washington source, let us say—so I thought I would ask you a few questions, if that’s alright with you. First: were you asked to endorse the President? Second, did you decline, and if so, why? Third, what can you say about your politics? Bye.”
He stared at the screen with a sinking feeling. He had been warned about the rumor, but no reporters had contacted him about it. Most likely, the White House had released the rumor itself as a way to make a point with him. He jotted down the three questions. Then a few other points occurred to him and he added them to the list. Finally, he combed his hair and hit reply, knowing the video clip could appear on television.
“Good sol, Liz. Thanks for asking. About two weeks ago I considered the matter of issuing an endorsement of the President and concluded that it was not appropriate for the Commander of Mars operations to get involved in domestic politics. The position of Commander is not a political position; it is a position entrusted with great responsibility toward the exploration of Mars and the development of its resources, all within the framework of the safety of the people doing the work. Those are and must be the Commander’s priorities.
“You ask about my own politics. Like a growing number of my fellow American citizens, I am an independent. I am neither a Democrat nor a Republican. I am also a well-wisher of everyone who supports exploring Mars.
“You may ask me, if you want, whether my concern extends to endorsements by other astronauts here on Mars. It does not. The other crew are free to exercise their freedom of speech.
“You may also ask me about modifications to the Columbus 3 cargo manifest. We are currently pursuing some very clever ideas that will make Mars more self-sufficient in several important supplies, allowing us to import more machines and some spices and other foods that will decrease the monotony of our diets. We’re quite excited about ways to improve our efficiency here. Our overall goals, long term, are to make maintenance of the Outpost cheaper, so that it can continue to expand.
“Hope that helps. Bye.”
He sent the message. He was pleased by the “you may ask me about” phrasing he had hit on. It allowed reporters to repeat the question in their own words and add it to the interview. It saved a lot of time, since every question and response took half an hour. And it gave him greater potential control over the interview; reporters often were lazy, after all, and would follow the interviewee’s lead.
He turned back to the Prospectors. He moved the Prospector in Hellas twenty meters toward its next destination—a small crater one hundred meters away—when the emergency bell on his attaché beeped urgently. He pulled off the virtual reality helmet to look.
It was a standard emergency phrase—there were hundreds, and they all went to the Commander or someone he designated—and it said “Truck 1 excessive lateral deceleration.” The vehicles all had accelerometers and when a vehicle got banged or jolted beyond a certain limit, the warning was triggered. Still, the warning hadn’t occurred more than four times in the last four years. At least there was no indication that airbags had deployed or that there was depressurization. Will popped up a communications directory by touching an icon in the upper left corner of his screen, then touched the buttons for “Truck 1 general” and “Roger Anderson,” for Roger was in charge of the expedition. “Will here. I’ve got an excessive lateral acceleration warning on ranger 1. Anything to report?”
A pause. “We slid into a big rock,” replied Érico, apparently from the ranger, which was clearing the trail for the expedition. “We were advancing along the recommended route at three klicks, in and around some pretty big rocks. The ground dropped away about half a meter on the right side of the ranger; the aerial photos didn’t show the ditch and the radar somehow missed it, here among the boulders. So we slid to the right about half a meter and banged into the side of the rock.”
“It was a fluvial erosion feature around the base of the rock,” added Roger. “I can see the rock now, from ranger 2. I’m right behind. Are you stuck?”
“I haven’t tried backing up,” replied Erico. “I was assessing the situation. We have a dent on the right side above the wheel but in front of the passenger door. Cabin integrity is not compromised. Here goes.” A long pause. “Negative, but I did move us a bit before sliding back down.”
“Be careful that rocking back and forth doesn’t bash you into the rock more,” warned Roger.
“Put on your helmets and gloves,” suggested Will.
“Negative. Unnecessary,” replied Érico. “I’m applying more power early, this time.” A long pause. Will could even hear the wheels whining and spinning in the background. Then the alarm went off again: “Truck 1 excessive rearward deceleration.”
“What happened this time?”
“I pulled out of the ditch and backed up so fast, I ran into a boulder behind me!”
Roger laughed. “You’re okay, ranger 1. There was already a dent in the bumper there!”
“Acknowledged!” laughed Érico. The ranger had acquired many bangs in four years.
“This has been a really bad route, Will,” said Roger. “In the boulder fields, the data has been really poor. Earlier this sol we backed up thirty meters and set out on our own, and found a much better route right away! A camera on top of a fifteen meter boom often gives us better information than a sunwing.”
“I think the guys in Mission Control in charge of mapping routes were on vacation when this one was planned,” replied Will. “Seriously; I mean it. The top two people were both out. This is a bad time in Houston. People want to rest before plunging into the work for Columbus 3. Our support teams were budgeted when Columbus 3 was supposed to be a crew of eight, not eleven, doing half the exploring that we’ve done, with no more than three people staying over for the nine months during the crew change. We’ve really pushed them hard.”
“Well, we need more support than this. Can you talk to Lassen?”
“We had a long budgetary talk yestersol. Don’t hold your breath. We’ve cost them more than they expected. Lassen’s been told to hold the line on expenses until Columbus 3 arrives. I suggest you slow down in boulder fields, use the boom camera more, and be careful.”
“Thanks a lot,” growled Roger.
How’s it going this sol?”
“We’ve only been out a few hours. We’ll make it into Tiu Vallis on schedule, I think. We found the remains of a little early Hesperian quiet water pond this morning and the shale layer had really great fossils; the macular kind that you can just see with the unaided eye. We’ve called the site ‘Primavera.’ The pond must have existed a hundred thousand years, alternatively freezing solid and getting renewed, until a flood broke open its spillway and drained it. Then it was buried under a sand dune and preserved from further erosion, until a crater smashed it and scattered the shale layer all over the area.”
“But you found the stratum in the crater wall?”
“Affirmative; it’s almost a meter thick. We’ve got some excellent specimens. We’ll be flying some back to you from Tiu.”
“Thanks for the update. Be careful, guys.”
“We will. Bye,” replied Roger.
“Bye.” Will closed the line. He wondered about the problem of poor quality data and occasionally poor quality routing advice. The ground crew assembled the best map they could by computer, but the data was sometimes sketchy. The ground could have a dip in it that the photography missed because of the sun angle. Even when the radar data had ten-centimeter resolution, if the Sunwing was not straight overhead the data had radar shadows behind boulders. A more expensive computer program that integrated the radar data from different locations along the flight path would have eliminated much of the shadowing, but had been cut from the budget. And the twenty-member team that planned thousands of kilometers of routes often made bad guesses about the best route; the best route over a half kilometer might avoid boulders, rocks, and angled slopes, but might lead into another half kilometer that was quite rough. If one chose a different route over the first half kilometer that was slightly rougher, it might lead to a much smoother second segment. Fancy software helped avoid such problems, but what was really needed was more teams planning parallel routes that could be compared and mixed together. That approach, though, would require far more personnel.
Of course, Will suddenly realized, that was a task volunteers might be able to do. If all the data were properly integrated and placed on a website, individuals could use their personal computers at home to map routes across Mars. Perhaps thousands of routes. And since each route ran through existing data squares, they could be crudely assessed by computer. He popped up a blank “page” in his “pad” on the attaché and began to scribble talking points, which he could compose into a videomail to Lassen and Heather Kimball. This was a task the Mars Exploration Society could tackle.