8.
Exports
After the staff meeting ended, work began immediately. Each shuttle had brought fifteen tonnes of supplies and equipment to unload, store, set up, and test; almost as much as Columbus 1 and its three automated landers. Among the items in cargo were Habitat 4 and Greenhouses 5 and 6. The former was needed because the three habitats were filled to capacity with the twenty-four people in them, and the greenhouses were needed to accommodate the new plants and animals that Columbus 3 had brought.
Will was outside with Pavel Rudenkov, their new civil engineer, that afternoon to plan the location of everything. They stood near the eastern base of Face Rock—an outcrop separated from Boat Rock by a massive crack, its eastern side etched by millions of years of weather so that, if one stood at exactly the right spot, the profile of a human face could arguably be seen—and surveyed the existing facilities stretching out downhill, and north, of them. There were three round habitats in a row, each twelve meters in diameter and six meters high, though with their radiation shields of Martian regolith, ice, and parachute material they looked to be more like sixteen meters across and eight meters high. Sandbags or dry stone walls protected the airlock doors on the east and west sides, and the frequent windows, from sliding and slumping dirt; the parachute material stretched over the tops made the habitats a bright white in the sun. The airlocks connected to greenhouses, which ran north-south on each side of the habitats, providing green corridors through which people could move from habitat to habitat.
At the bottom of the slope was the Mars Life Science Facility, connected to the east side of Habitat 3 via the industrial facility, and to the west side of the same via a pressurized tunnel, which was stuffed with aromatic herbs. At the top of the slope west of Habitat 1 was a long mound of dirt which buried the Geology Facility, their first pressurized building, made of welded Martian iron and plastic.
Beyond the habitats and other modules, at the base of the northward slope, were three cylindrical solar power units, each thirty-two meters long and thirty meters in diameter; the cylinders rolled on a plastic skirt to keep their silvered hemispheres pointed toward the sun, which in turn reflected nine hundred sixty square meters of sunlight onto about one hundred meters of solar panels. The high efficiency panels generated about 150 kilowatts of power and, once the sun had heated them to 150 degrees Centigrade, powerful fans circulating Martian air across their backs recovered another 150 kilowatts of heat energy for heating the habitats and greenhouses.
Beyond the solar power units were three sets of wells, drilled up to half a kilometer into the rock and sediment of Aurorae Chaos. Surplus hot air from the solar power units was pumped into the wells, where it evaporated ice from the permafrost, extracting hundreds of tonnes of water per year for the Outpost’s use; the emptied pore space could then be used to store compressed oxygen and methane gas, and the heated underground rock stored enough heat to maintain the outpost’s warmth for months through the thickest of dust storms. The wells were distinctive because each was surrounded by white parachute material, which in turn covered an ice-dirt mixture that capped the wells against pressure leaks.
Pavel gazed at the very impressive facility, then turned and looked southward past the edge of Face Rock at the rolling, stony plain of Aurorae. The surface was interrupted by a landing strip one kilometer long and one hundred meters wide, with a hanger of stone, plastic, rock, metal, parachute material, and ice-cement at one end. It was for the sunwings, big-winged, flimsy, solar-powered aircraft capable of flying for weeks across the planet, taking extremely high-resolution photographs, serving as high-altitude communications relays, or transporting up to half a tonne of people or cargo from place to place. While the sunwings normally performed vertical takeoffs and landings using small rocket engines, Aurorae outpost had an emergency runway for machines whose rocket systems were exhausted.
Beyond the landing strip were six circular clearings a hundred meters across; landing pads for shuttles. Four pads were occupied. Barely visible were electric cables running from vehicle to vehicle; they ran under lines of anchoring rocks to the hanger, then to the Outpost.
“An incredible amount of work,” Pavel finally said.
“You can see why, when I stand here and look around, I feel immensely proud,” replied Will.
“Indeed. And if the work weren’t enough, the view is spectacular as well!” Pavel pointed northward to the escarpment marking the edge of the Aurorae Valley, some twelve kilometers away. Rising 1.5 kilometers, the escarpment was an immense wall of rock blocking part of the sky.
“We’ll have to take you over to the escarpment base; it’s really impressive there,” said Will. “You can see why we moved the Outpost here. The original site was at the western end of Boat Rock, just on the north side of the notch separating it from Layercake Mesa. The view would have been nice there as well, but here we have Face Rock, we have a better view to the south, and we have better transportation to the air strip and the shuttle pads.”
“And you can get on top of Boat Rock from here.”
“Yes. The path was hard to clear; it would have been a bit easier over by Layercake. But we built a narrow road up there a few years ago, and now we have two wind turbines on top of Boat Rock. During the last dust storm season they generated quite a lot of power. When you approach the Outpost they’re the first things you see.”
“I bet. I really have to salute all of you for this achievement.”
“It’s about ten person-years of labor, out of the total of thirty-eight person years of work expended on Mars so far. That doesn’t include the clearing of the pads and the stringing of the cables them, which was all done by remote control during the two years before we arrived. And now we have twenty-three adults giving eighteen months of service here; another thirty-five person-years, and another eight to ten will go to expansion of the Outpost.”
“I can hear the pride in your voice,” said Pavel. “It truly is exciting to be involved in this work.” He pointed. “Now, I assume we are expanding parallel to the existing facility, but west of the three habitats and downhill of the Geology Facility? That’s the official plan. Habitat 4 will go immediately downhill from the Geology Facility and west of Habitat 2; then the new building will go downhill from that.”
Will nodded. “That’s the plan, but I’d like to propose a different arrangement. I’d like to reserve the place where the building is scheduled to be built for a dome of some sort; a large pressurized facility with a transparent top, filled with plants, with open space, etc.” He pointed down slope to the rocky terrain to the left—west—of Habitat 3.
Pavel was surprised. “But no plans for such a facility exist.”
“I know, but I’m hoping we can get such plans approved in the next year. If we build the building on that site, then the dome will be relegated to the side of the Outpost, but I suspect it will prove centrally important to it.”
“Where would we put the building we’re scheduled to erect?”
“West and maybe a bit north of the Geology Building. Its eastern end could have a connection to the Geology Building and a connection to Habitat 4 via separate pressure tunnels, so it would have two exits.”
“But both would be on its eastern end; the western end wouldn’t have an exit at all.”
“True, but the building, right now, is probably going to be two stories high. So if a leak sprang on the top floor, one could run to the western end and down the stairs to the lower level, or the other way around. Alternately, we could build a pressure tunnel into the southern wall of the building, which would be buried and thus would be the most enclosed part of the building.”
“People using that building will be a bit far from the rest of the Outpost.”
“Yes, but ‘a bit far’ will still be only thirty meters or so. It would be thirty seconds walk; not much. Once the dome is installed they would be a convenient walk from it, and the dome, I suspect, will emerge as the new center of the Outpost.”
Pavel looked unconvinced. “This is an unexpected change in the plans.”
“Sometimes, unexpected change is good, don’t you think? Consider that the new site of the building will put it farther up slope, closer to Boat Rock. That means it’ll have a better view of the escarpment. Any building built down slope from it would have to be low enough so that its roof won’t block the view.”
“Of course, as the Outpost expands, there will be many buildings built, and some will have better views than others.”
“Yes, that’s true.” Will was frustrated by Pavel’s resistance. He turned to him so they could see each other’s faces through their helmets. “Pavel, I appreciate your professional advice very much, and I look forward to seeing what you can do to organize us to build a truly excellent, sophisticated building. But let us leave room for a dome or some other large exterior space as well. It isn’t part of the plans, but I think it needs to be, and I think it can be.”
The Russian looked at him, hesitantly, then nodded. “Very well, Commander. We can change the plans. What you are suggesting is not a major change, and it is not a major problem. I’ll see what I can do to refine the idea.”
“Thanks. And call me Will. There are only twenty-three of us here; we can be informal most of the time.”
Pavel smiled. “Okay, Will, I will.”
“When do you think we can get started?”
“With construction? The next four weeks will be filled with setup of Habitat 4 and the two greenhouses. I can use that time to move the building plan to the location you propose and consider the safety implications; as you say, we’ll have to plan a two-story building and maybe incorporate an evacuation tunnel. Such a tunnel would be a good idea anyway; it would allow for pedestrian traffic through the building without disrupting the interior space, and if the Outpost grows in size quite a bit in the future, a lot of people will be walking through buildings to get to work or to the cafeteria. I suspect we can start with a lot of the basic work in two weeks. We’ll have to do all the excavation with the rangers before they’re taken out on expeditions.”
“Two weeks. Good. I’m glad we were able to come out here and talk about the site.”
“So am I. Now I need to supervise the placement of the habitat.”
“You go do that, and I have to go inside to complete a video appointment. Thanks, Pavel.”
Will walked back to the airlocks and the suit donning facility attached to Habitat 1. In twenty minutes he was back inside at the bridge in Habitat 1. There he sent an email to Heather Kimball, his old friend who was the new President of the Mars Exploration Society. He summarized his various ideas and plans; she had proved a valuable informal advisor and brainstorming partner. Then he received the message from Harold Lassen, head of Mars Mission Operations, for which he had been waiting with some trepidation, because he had no idea why Lassen wanted to speak to him. Lassen looked older and more stressed than usual.
“Will, I’m glad we can have this exchange of videomails about Aurorae Outpost. For months I’ve been looking at your various emails and thinking that we need to hold a big half-day meeting with the various experts so we can go through your suggestions and either get them moving or put them to rest. So far, that hasn’t happened; the unexpected staff cutbacks we’ve had to implement have been very difficult. We’re in the position, down here, to hold on and make sure nominal plans are carried out, but we have few resources left over for new ideas. Frankly, Mars has just grown too fast for the budget. Three years ago we drew up this year’s budget to support a Mars operation with twelve crew, not twenty-three. This means your hopes and our reality are clashing rather badly, and I apologize for that. I really appreciate your approach to developing the Mars project and wish we could provide more ground support.
“Regarding your conducting two simultaneous expeditions: our ground team will be barely adequate to provide support for normal conditions, but an emergency for one expedition probably would require the other one to hold tight, and an emergency with both would be impossible to deal with. So I don’t see how we can do it, right now.
“Regarding the so-called Dome Project: I agree that you all need some sort of large space for agriculture and recreation, but it is impossible to justify the expense right now. The dome will cost between one and two hundred million to design and build. The expansion of Pax is costing two billion more than planned, and the Drake Radio Telescope slated for Earth/solar Lagrange 2 is proving to be a monetary black hole. If that weren’t bad enough, as you know Congress is breathing down our necks right now to slash our launch budget and use the Swift Shuttle instead. Upper management is convinced this is a false economy, that the Swift’s safety is unproven, and using it puts all our eggs in one basket and jeopardizes NASA’s future. I fear Congress may force the issue by slashing NASA’s budget, in which case Columbus could suffer badly; there might even be a decision to cancel or cut back Columbus 4. Under those circumstances, there can’t be a dome.
“Regarding your proposal to use the automated cargo vehicles to fly methane back to Earth: besides the problem that it partially dejustifies Shackleton’s fuel manufacturing facilities, it will also demand more precise flying of the ACVs, extra computational work, and more work at Gateway to recover and store the methane. Right now we just can’t afford it.
“As for selling Mars rocks, the resistance that idea has generated in the scientific community is unbelievable. I suspect you have received hate e-mail as a result. That proposal will be dead in the water for some time.
“As for the idea of exporting argon and nitrogen, it is premature; the equipment you have wasn’t designed for it.
“But I am not just the bearer of bad news, as sad as I am to have that duty. We have looked at your proposal for additional reactors for Columbus 4. With the President safely reelected, momentum in favor of further developing nuclear power has increased, in spite of the launch vehicle controversies. It appears that you’ll have two more nukes on the way in two years even if passenger flight is cut from Columbus 4. The moon will get three more, minimum. The new design is optimized for outer solar system use as well; the Lewis and Clarke Project was recently approved, as you know, and it involves an ion engine to push sixteen tonnes of satellites and probes to the Saturnian system, where the mother ship will go into orbit around Titan and serve as a powerful communications relay between the entire Saturnian system and Earth. It’ll use a 250-kilowatt nuke. We also have a green light to develop a small bimodal solid-core nuclear engine.
“So energy, at least, will be on the way. I’m hoping that we can get next year’s budget re-configured to provide better ground support for your initiatives. Meanwhile, let’s think of creative ways to use your people efficiently within budgetary constraints. Looking forward to your response. Bye.”
Will stared at the screen, stunned. Lassen was pulling the plug on half of Columbus 3 and possibly ninety percent of Columbus 4. It was a common historic pattern: NASA had put scientific stations on the moon with the Apollo vehicles, and then had turned them off because of lack of funds; it had even turned off deep space vehicles because of no funds, even though they were functioning normally. And they were funding a nuclear engine that would probably be more expensive to operate than the solar-powered ion tugs they were already using for cargo transportation; eliminating a perfectly good vehicle for another, more problematic one was another common NASA pattern. But it made absolutely no sense to put people on Mars and be unable to employ them all. That infuriated him.
Furthermore, the “good” news had nothing to do with him. He had mentioned the potential use of two more reactors in a memo, but had not requested them. He had known that requesting them was unnecessary because the White House was pushing nuclear power in space strongly for various strategic and defense reasons, which guaranteed support for sending them to Mars whether they were needed or not.
Will began to scribble talking points on his attaché; he had to be clear but exceedingly polite because Lassen was known as one who did not like having people disagree with him. He hit reply.
“Thank you, Dr. Lassen, for your message. I
sympathize deeply with your dilemma, which is one the agency has faced again
and again. It has always been easier to justify the expense of mounting a
program than in maintaining it. But it occurs to me that there is an important
principle to remember in this case: idling people who have put their lives on
the line to explore is a far more serious matter than turning off an automated
probe because of lack of funds once it has completed its nominal mission. And
presumably we are talking about essentially laying off people here. If we can’t
send out two expeditions, what will we do with the folks who were scheduled to
go on expedition 2? I don’t think it’s fair to expect them to sit around
watching television for eighteen months. Would it be better if, in addition to
an expedition, we have three vehicles exploring Aurorae? Since the trips are a
sol or two at most, they aren’t official expeditions and we can authorize them
ourselves. But surely that is as risky as a second expedition? On the other
hand, if we put those people to work on expanding Aurorae, that strains the
industrial, construction, and greenhouse support staff more; how would that be
better?
So I’m not sure what we can do to resolve this dilemma. Of course, one possibility is to do more work to boost Martian ‘exports.’ We can intentionally export fossiliferous rock for sale, rock that has not been selected for its scientific value and therefore is not being taken from scientists. Based on the market for moon rocks, we can sell Mars rocks in small quantities for about two million dollars a tonne; and the costs of sending twenty-five tonnes of rocks back to Earth is maybe half a million dollars per tonne at most, so NASA can make a good profit. And we have the rocks sitting here, ready to go.
“We can also devote human resources to methane exports. I was interested in your comment about dejustifying the facilities on the moon; but we are not talking about eliminating Shackleton as a principal source of propellant in low earth orbit, just supplementing it with a fuel that can use the waste oxygen it currently creates and can’t sell. Surely demand is so high, and rising, that shipping seventy-five tonnes of methane every two years hardly undercuts Shackleton? I understand the shipping creates some extra costs, but again the extra costs are less than the potential sales price. Even with the Swift Shuttle as competition, methane is worth a thousand dollars per kilo or a million dollars a tonne in low earth orbit, about fifty percent more than that at Gateway and twice as much on the moon.
“As for argon and nitrogen, we have ten tonnes of each in the extra tank capacity of the shuttles, and we can make a tonne a month.
Every tonne of supplies that is shipped here costs thirteen million bucks in transportation costs, using the EELVs, ion tugs with xenon propellant, and lunar fuel. Martian argon will cut that to eight and a half million. The shuttles, automated cargo vehicles, and lifters that bring us supplies are designed to be flown back to Earth and reused, so they are able to fly back to Earth exactly the same mass of Martian resources they ship here. This opposition, we are receiving seventy-five tonnes of supplies and equipment. If we could ship the same amount back, you could amortize the equipment cost over twice the tonnage; that would lower shipping cost to here to about seven million. Perhaps the money saved would cover the cost of greater ground support? I suspect the surplus could cover the cost of a dome, over two years, don’t you think? We’re talking about a total income of about one hundred million dollars, which can make quite a dent in the shortfall. It could even save important parts of Columbus 4.
“So it occurs to me that one problem we have—the lack of ground support for exploration—is partially solved by another problem, that of exporting and selling Martian materials. Why not create the natural synergy the two offer?
“I understand the argument that if Mars starts to export, its scientific mission will be diluted and expectations will rise to the point where the outpost will have to cover its entire expenses or be shut down. But surely a middle ground can be found. Why not aim for a partial coverage of transportation costs only? Mars will have to start contributing to its expenses eventually. Why not make the contribution an organic aspect of the expansion of the human presence here?
“Thank you for the news about the nuclear reactors. That is an excellent development. Not only will our expeditions be strengthened further, but the Outpost will be in a much better position to ride out dust storms. We look forward to the arrival of our first two reactors in about a month’s time.
“What do you think of my concerns? Let’s talk more. Bye.”
Will reviewed his message, then sent it. He sat and stared at the screen, wondering whether he could do anything at all. They had a bit of leverage; if the Mars residents passed a resolution allowing the civic authority to sell land, they could raise millions of dollars from Mars enthusiasts and sell services to them such as photographing their property thoroughly, retrieving samples from it, and combing it for meteoritic iron they could use for manufacture, for which privilege they could pay the landowner a royalty. That would be immensely controversial, and thus was an excellent bargaining chip. But he didn’t want to try something like that yet.
While waiting for a reply, Will called Jerry McCord, who was outside. “Hi Will,” he replied right away.
“Jerry, if Mars exported seventy-five tonnes of methane when it sent the automated cargo vehicles back to Earth, half for Columbus 4 and half for sale, how upset would the folks on the moon be?”
“Hum.” Jerry thought. “You mean methane without oxygen?”
“Yes.”
“Then you can only capture about twenty percent of the market anyway, because they’re still supplying the oxygen. And you’re doing them a favor, in a sense, because it allows the sale of a resource they mostly have to waste now. And with the growth in lunar tourism, they’ll probably have trouble meeting demand. They’ll probably want to buy some of the methane themselves.”
“Can you call any of your buddies about this matter? Because I’m trying to persuade mission control to let us export methane from the moons, fossiliferous rocks, argon, nitrogen, and other items of value, to cover shipping costs at least. I’m sure this is something that will cause some opposition from the moon lobby, at least at first.”
“Oh, please don’t ask me to do something like that. I’m not comfortable serving as salesman. And Will, as you know, you’re really rocking the boat with these ideas. I’m not sure I can represent your ideas fairly, let alone advocate them.”
Will considered that. “Thank you, then, for your honesty. I much appreciate it. Yes, I am rocking the boat and calling for some rather large and important changes. But if the moon exports, why shouldn’t we? These aren’t as major as having married people on Mars, or children on Mars. At any rate, I can ask someone else for help, if you aren’t comfortable with the request. Have a good sol, Jerry.”
“Thanks, Will.” He sounded relieved.
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
Will closed the circuit and paused barely a few seconds. Neal Stroger had many friends on the moon—he was a gregarious fellow and made friends easily—and had a good reputation. He called Neal, catching him outside unloading a shuttle as well. Neal stopped work and stepped aside to listen. “Sure, I can make a call or two, if you want. I agree with you, this is an important matter. We need to be able to ship methane. If Shackleton can export, why can’t we? The communication and navigational burdens aren’t significantly greater than shipping water from the moon; the delta vee is actually much less than from Phobos. There should be plenty of demand to go around. I don’t see this depressing demand.”
“Neither do I. The price of propellant in LEO is set by the cost of shipping it up from the Earth; if we beat that price, people will buy from us. We can beat that price and make quite a profit because even from Mars, shipping to LEO is cheaper than from Earth.”
“Especially for NASA, which is insisting on hauling everything up with its EELVs. I probably can’t make any calls until tonight, though.”
“That’s fine. It’ll give me time to brief you a bit more.”
“Great; after dinner, then?”
“Yes. Thanks.”
“No problem. Bye.”
“Bye.”
A few minutes later, Lassen’s reply popped onto Will’s attaché. He opened it immediately.
“Will, thanks for raising these matters further. Look, unless we have that gathering of administrators and experts, I’m afraid I can’t change my positions. Everyone is saying we can only support one expedition at a time and that this is not the time to send us Mars rocks, methane, or anything else. Remember that even if we don’t launch EELVs, we have to pay the launch crew anyway.
“More importantly, though, people are beginning to balk at the question of personal risks. No one has died on Mars yet. The recent incident on the moon has generated huge negative publicity. We have to be careful; or maybe I should say we have to be more cautious. These proposals you offer risk either people, or machines, or both. We have to think about them extra carefully right now.
“What can I say? Maybe I can set a date for the meeting for next week. Let’s touch base about this in a few days, okay? Bye.”
He stared at the screen, anger building in him. Caution was always the recommended reply to innovation. It depressed him to think that far more people do and can have scuba diving accidents in the oceans on Earth than in a spacesuit on the moon or Mars. He searched the computer for the first videomail and attached it to a video message to Heather Kimball. “Good sol, Heather. I’m attaching a highly confidential exchange between myself and our friend Dr. Harold to this message. What can be done? He’s essentially saying that NASA can fly twenty-three people to Mars, but can’t afford to employ them all, and won’t let them moonlight on the side! The arguments strike me as extreme, too. I’m tempted to tell everyone here—which I’ll have to do eventually—and while they’re angry, suggest that the Mars residents authorize the sale of land to anyone who wants to buy it. Then when we’re idle, we can be providing land owners services here; we might even be able to collect items for private export, if we could ever obtain a vehicle for returning them to Earth. But of course I won’t do that to Harold. It’d infuriate him and make matters worse. Maybe the Mars Exploration Society can act in ways we can’t, though. It sounds like the Swift shuttle is becoming a hot issue. Bye.”
Then, if that weren’t enough, he attached the same video exchange to a message to Dr. Armando Cruz, Columbus 2’s physician, who had settled back in Houston and was again one of the Capcoms for Mars. “Armando, good sol. I need your help to talk to Dr. Lassen; or maybe he needs your help to talk to me. As you can see, Mission Control wants to idle half of us, up here, and won’t let us employ ourselves with exports and other potentially useful tasks. You can see him face to face; I can’t. Furthermore, it appears that various people oppose us, and you can talk to them face to face as well. I need help communicating; above all, I want logical reasons, as opposed to political reasons, why we should accept Lassen’s arguments! Bye.”
He sent the videomail, then stared out the porthole window. A late afternoon dust devil swirled a few kilometers away. His desire to do anything was drained from him, so he sat and looked. The window faced part of the future construction area that he and Pavel had just examined and he wondered what would rise there, and on the stony plain beyond.
He was startled when his attaché beeped with an incoming message. Ten minutes had passed.
“Good sol, Will,” said Kimball. “I’m blown away by Lassen’s message. This is just ridiculous. Safety is important right now, but not that important. I’ll make a few private calls to friends to ‘discover’ this information. If I learn anything else, I’ll let you know. Then the Mars Exploration Society will act. I may start by talking to Lassen and a few of his associates, letting them know what the MES can do, and I’ll talk to some journalists. I think we can be confident there will be embarrassing publicity.
“I know the 10,000 members of the MES will spend money on Mars; our survey indicates they’ll spend several hundred bucks per year. The survey suggests that there is about a million people around the world willing to spend an average of one hundred dollars per year on land, rocks, and services. Money is out there, and it can be tapped. A friend of mine who just retired from the astronaut corps has ‘his own’ little piece of the moon bordering the Aristarchus Trail south of Tycho; he doesn’t own it, but he’s explored it, has a chunk of it at home, he drove a few stakes into the reg to mark boundaries, and he considers it ‘his.’ Why shouldn’t he be able to buy it? The situation is ridiculous. Anyway, I’ll get started. Bye.”
That gave Will some hope. Just then another videomail arrived, from Armando. He activated it. “Hi, Will. I know something about this. Lassen’s getting pressure from the White House to make sure there are no other accidents. So if I were you, I’d focus on safety for people and reliability for machines. Some of this is an excuse to avoid innovation, too. The Swift shuttle matter has everyone scared. Regardless, I can’t see how idling people increases their safety; as you noted, they can make short excursions instead. I’d focus on that. Bye.”
Will hit reply. “Thanks, Armando; that’s very helpful. You may hear from Heather, too. Bye.” He sent the message, then just sat and looked out the window. The sun was getting low. He watched it set and considered his options. Now that Columbus 3 had arrived and the entire team was assembled in one place, it was time for safety practices and briefings. Some were already scheduled, but he could easily stretch out the schedule of other tasks and increase the safety drills. Then he rose to head to supper and talk to his staff about the new plans.