4

Fire and Ice

Will walked into Mars Control and spied Ruhullah in his office. Electronic pages were spread out all over the desk in front of him and he turned from one to the next, scribbling on them with a stylus.

“Inventory?”

“I always do a spot audit myself; your staffing cuts in Houston have resulted in occasional inaccuracies.”

“Maybe we need to rehire some folks then, or have another look at procedures. The consulting firm said the inventory department could be both smaller and more efficient.”

“Well, it got smaller first. We just got three nonfunctional Prospectors back from the field and we don’t have enough spare batteries to carry out a routine replacement. We’re scrambling to come up with substitutes.”

Will was shocked. “That’s crazy!”

“Well, we are half way through the columbiad; shortages start to show up about now. And we have other sizes of batteries, so we can substitute. But this does show a problem with the inventory system. I’ll have a report for you in a few sols. How was Caribbean Biome?”

“Oh, excellent. Alexandra and Lisa together gave me a tour; we walked very slowly because of the thin air, but that worked out also. We’re all amazed we could build a B-160 and put enough air in it to make it breathable. But we have lots of spare nickel-iron and the nickel-iron cables add enough weight and strength.”

“And it has 20,000 square meters of space; enough to feed 200 people!”

“It’s really too big for us right now; we can’t afford a depressurization accident. We’re crossing our fingers that the dome holds. It’s divided into airtight quarters and two will be for bioarchive; Virgin Islands rainforest and southern Rio Grande prairie. The other two will be agriculture. Setting up the biome will be a huge challenge; it holds a million cubic meters of air, which will require one hundred fifty tonnes of oxygen and fifty tonnes of nitrogen. It needs five thousand tonnes of regolith and about one thousand tonnes of water. Lisa’s going crazy because her crew has to be able to set up one of these every year. Alexandra’s trying to figure out how to build one every year.”

“At least we won’t have to go through names as fast,” replied Ruhullah, trying to make a joke. “If we had to build eight smaller biomes and name them, this place would start to get confusing.”

“It has too many names already, but that’s the least of our worries. We have to inflate another one of these by January 2040; ten months. Lisa thinks they can have enough soil ready by then to spread a thin layer over the floor to get agriculture started, and they’ll add regolith month by month to bulk it up.”

“At least water and oxygen are not problems. What’ll be the name?”

“Missouri, referring to the river, not the state. We’ll put the Ozark and northern Rocky Mountain ecosystems in it and use two quarters for agriculture. We have to build two B-75s for housing and work space, and that’ll be the challenge. Alexandra has to slow the work on caravel two to a crawl, and she’s not happy.”

“Thank God we sent caravel one back to Earth with a construction crew; they’re getting a lot done.”

“They’re actually ahead of schedule, though they’re getting pretty bored. They can’t wait for the second Venus flyby to relieve the monotony. I’m worried that some of the guys aren’t coming back who had planned to return.” Will looked around. “I better get up to the office. Anything new?”

“Rostam’s checking a slight methane leak on Ceres 1; he says he can fix it. The Hadriaca sent a request for access to the Prospectors on Gradivus and Amigo; they’re doing some low-priority exploration as part of their training. We got a hello from Argo 3, also; I replied.”

“Copy me; I’d like to send them greetings as well. Okay, I’m going upstairs.” Will walked out of Ruhullah’s office and headed up the ramp to his rooftop office. He put his attaché on his desk and opened it; he didn’t have to plug it in. He was surprised to see a videomail had arrived from Patrice Domkowski at Concord Station, Mercury. He pushed play. Patrice still looked pretty youthful, although he was now in his mid forties.

“Hello Will, this is Patrice. I’ve been meaning to respond to your congratulatory message of a year ago; it’s hard to believe we’ve been here that long. I’m sure you’ve been keeping up with our progress. We’ve accomplished our entire nominal mission and have tackled several supplementary goals. It took several months to get Concord set up, but our crater is now nicely illuminated by our ‘picket fence’ reflection system and our two habs and matching greenhouses are now functioning well. Mercurian regolith is proving fairly rich, once we add nitrogen and phosphorus. I suppose you’ll get an order for them, since Mars can supply them more cheaply than Earth can! We’ve got a dozen Prospectors functioning, mostly in the north and south polar regions, but we have moved two of them toward the equator. We doubt they’ll survive the night, though. The next flight will bring Prospectors with RTGs sufficient to keep basic functions operating at night, and at that point we’ll probably start clearing a trail between the two poles. Who knows when it’ll be safe for people to venture far from the outpost. Our existing equipment has proved able to handle polar conditions fine and crews have traveled up to 300 kilometers from here. The problem is that during the day the heating and solar radiation are very dangerous, especially for crew outside in suits, and the night is safe but pitch dark. This place will always be much harder to explore than Mars.

“But one reason I’m calling is because three of us have volunteered to stay an extra year to keep the outpost operating until Hermes 2 arrives. I suppose you heard that three days ago the Commission approved a plan to fly from Earth to Mercury directly, rather than via Venus. The ion tugs have proved themselves quite capable of handling the higher delta-v necessary for the direct flight, and we’ll actually receive less radiation exposure because the trip will be quicker; 150 to 160 days. Starting with Hermes 2, crews will spend 150 days flying here, will stay almost two years, then spend 150 days flying home, for a grand total of three years away. Flights will occur about once a year, so there will usually be two crews here, sometimes one for a few months. Mars really has been our inspiration for this new model. Hermes 2 will fly six here and we’ll stick to six for at least four years, at which point we hope finances will allow an increase to eight. Hermes 3 will see the first use of a solar sailing cargo vessel, too. The concern right now, of course, is making sure the Hermes Project doesn’t get canceled outright, but it appears the United States, China, Russia, Japan, Brazil, India, Pakistan, Korea, Mexico, Canada, Ukraine, and possibly Israel are interested in sending at least one crewmember eventually. If it proves possible to start families here—which should be as easy as on Mars, as long as the kids stay underground—we may see this place develop into a small colony, who knows. Right now we don’t even have married couples here, though; they’re all heading to Mars.

“I hope to hear from you some time. Since I’ll be staying here for another year and a quarter and will be Commander, I hope we can swap stories and ideas. I could use the advice occasionally. Bye.”

Will had to smile as the message ended. He had indeed congratulated Patrice for the landing; but that was mid March 2038, and here it was early March 2039! Patrice had probably felt inadequate to call Will as an equal. Now he had something to crow about. Will hit reply.

“Patrice, good day to you, and congratulations on the decision of three of you to stay. I’m delighted; it’s not only technologically difficult to abandon a facility after finishing it, it’s psychologically difficult as well! I have no regrets about my decision to stay here with Ethel. Neither of us had any idea we would still be here eighteen years later, with a fourteen year old son and an eleven year old daughter. I hope someone does start a family on Mercury eventually; it changes the social environment radically and converts visiting residents into passionate advocates and, eventually, some start to feel like citizens. I’d argue that a world deserves nothing less of its human population.

“I was glad to hear that direct Earth/Mercury flights were planned starting with Hermes 2. It means that Mars to Mercury to Earth flights should prove possible as well, and that increases the number of launch windows significantly. Mars can launch to Mercury every 110 days; Earth, every 116 days. Martian argon can fuel an ion tug to propel the vehicle from the moment trans-Mercury injection has been completed by a chemical stage until hours before aerobraking is performed on the people or cargo, and the 300-day flight is long enough for the ion tug to modify the orbit considerably and reduce departure and arrival velocities to reasonable levels. The new radiation shielding appears to be adequate for human crews as well, if they don’t mind the long trip. Our first cargo flight to Mercury is scheduled to depart in about half a year and we’ll be very interested to see how it goes. Once you have your Portal orbital station set up and able to provide emergency service, Mercury may even see some cargo and passenger flybys destined for Mars.

“As you probably know, all is going very well here. Our population of 368—if you include the sixteen flying the caravel Intrepid to Earth right now—is scheduled to grow to about 570 in a year’s time, so we are scrambling to be ready. A few years ago we could not have imagined that such a rapid population increase was possible, nor could we have imagined we would be able to be ready for it. We have an asteroid mission about to reach its target and Ceres 1 is doing well in spite of a string of technical glitches; it arrives there next year. In short, we are incredibly hopeful about the future. I hope some of our optimism rubs off on Mercury as well. Bye.”

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Nandan Rao, Commander of the Intrepid, and his partner, Evo Sanchez, were back at work on the caravel after a filling supper. The Intrepid’s walls had gone up quite fast on the flight from Mars, but the design called for the vehicle to have about 200 rooms, so there were always more walls to set up. The second level up from the bottom, where the gravity was about a third of a terrestrial gee, had a corridor running all the way around the circle and rooms opening onto it. With the six pressure doors open one could jog all the way around, a run of 95 meters; an impressively long way to run inside a ship.

They were finishing up a bedroom, making sure the walls were smooth and clean, checking out the electrical plugs. Just before they were ready to wrap up the work for the day—they were both exhausted—Nandan walked into the next room, which was still unfinished, and plugged a plastic cutting saw into the wall socket, so they could use it the next day. Putting the saw down he accidentally bumped the trigger and activated the blade, which then hit the power cord lying on the floor.

A burst of sparks flew everywhere from the short circuit. “Whoa!” exclaimed Nandan, surprised, and he jumped away from the saw.

There was a whoosh behind him and he turned to see a fire spreading in the hallway right outside the room’s doorway. A spark had fallen on an area covered with a slightly flammable glue, which was curing a bit before Evo could place the tiles. In a flash, Nandan saw the glue was more flammable than expected.

“Fire!” shouted Evo.

“Help, Evo, I’m trapped!”

Evo dashed into the hall and saw Nandan’s predicament. “Jump through the flames! It’s the only way!”

“They may burn out!”

“No, they’re spreading, the plastic’s beginning to melt!”

Suddenly the alarm sounded throughout the ship. Startled, Nandan bolted for the door and dashed through the curtain of flames, which singed him pretty badly, though his fire-resistant clothing protected him pretty well.

“We’ve got to get out!” Nandan exclaimed. “Let’s go!”

Evo nodded and the two men dashed along the corridor to the nearest pressure door, which was just 15 meters away. They leaped through it and shut it.

“Bridge, this is Nandan! We have a fire in sector 3! Close all pressure doors and activate the CO2 flood!”

“Where’s Evo!” exclaimed Susanne Lambert, who was on the bridge at the time.

“Right here with me!”

“Acknowledged. I’m shutting all pressure doors!”

Nandan popped his ears. “Hurry, the pressure’s building fast! You’ll have to depressurize the sector as well!”

“Acknowledged. All staff, evacuate the caravel immediately.” Susanne tried to remain calm and professional, but her voice boomed through the space. They could hear pressure doors closing all around them.

“Let’s go,” said Nandar, and Evo nodded. They headed for an access shaft that had both an elevator platform and an emergency ladder in it. They opened the pressure door by hand and entered the shaft. The walls between it and sector three were hard and stretched because of the increasing atmospheric pressure on the other side. They began to climb up toward the axis as fast as they could. Then through the wall they could hear a whooshing sound.

“Is that depressurization?” asked Evo.

“I think so. It’s the fastest way to put out the fire.”

“True.” They climbed up the ladder in the shaft as fast as their arms and legs could safely carry them. At the top, John Hu opened the pressure door to let them into the axis, which was not open to any of the caravel’s six separate sectors.

“What happened? asked John.

“A freak accident. The plastic saw accidentally cut through its electrical cord, showering an area of glue on the floor with sparks.”

“That stuff isn’t flammable!’

“No, I’m afraid it is!”

Just then Nandan’s communicator beeped with a call from Susanne. “Sector three is depressurizing rapidly, and all staff are accounted for. We’re transmitting everything back to Mars Control. Is anyone injured?”

“Negative.”

“Nandan, your hair is all singed and your arm is burned!” said John.

Nandan looked down and was surprised to see that his arm was badly burned; he hadn’t noticed before.

“Head for the sick bay; Sophie’s already standing by,” said Susanne.

“Negative; I’m on my way to the bridge.”

“We need you. We’re having all sorts of problems. Sector 2’s leaking air into sector 3, so pressure is not dropping as fast as expected. Heating is already distorting the structure so we have to stop the rotation right away.”

“Is there a door open?”

“Yes. . . sector 2/3, level 3.”

“Depressurize both sectors, then.”

“Sector 2 has open water; the toilets are full,” noted Evo.

“Probably better the water boils than spills everywhere when rotation stops,” replied Nandan. “Let’s get up to the bridge.”

The three of them headed across the hub to an airlock leading to the annex attached to the caravel. They could hear the depressurization alarms in sectors 2 and 3 through the walls, and as they reached the airlock to the annex, the derotation alarm went off as well. They pulled the door open and floated into the airlock, then crossed into the annex, which was in zero gravity. They headed down the central shaft to the bridge, which was crowded.

“Everyone’s out?” he asked.

“You guys were last,” replied Susanne. “I think the worst is over. The heat sensors show a decrease in temperature.”

“Assuming the bulkhead with sector 1 holds,” added Sonya Volkov, sitting at one of the monitors.

“They shouldn’t burn through that fast,” said Nandan. “Is Magellan station listening in?”

“I’m sure; we’re broadcasting everything to them as well. They can’t help.”

“No, I’m afraid no one can,” noted Nandan.

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When alarms went off in Mars Control, it was 11:20 p.m. and the shift had just changed. Kent Bytown, now in charge, immediately called Will.

“Hello.”

“Will, there’s a fire on the Intrepid.”

“How bad?”

“Uncertain; we’re getting the live feed of the telemetry. Fire alarms are going off in sector 3.”

“I’ll be right up.” Will closed the circuit and headed for the door, even if he was wearing pajamas. He dashed up the spiral ramp to the third floor and entered Mars Control ten seconds after the call ended.

They watched the data stream helplessly; round trip time for communication was over forty minutes. Meanwhile, technicians poured into Mars Control as the recall order reached them. The second shift had not yet gone to bed and were able to arrive quickly.

“It appears to be confined pretty well,” said Rostam Khan in a few minutes. “By evacuating air and flooding the sections with carbon dioxide, they stopped the flames pretty fast.”

“How much damage?” asked Will.

“They’ll need a few hours to assess it,” replied Kent. “But we’re getting one frame per ten seconds from every camera on the caravel, and four people are checking the images.”

“The flames were confined to section 3, level 2,” said Zach Hersey. “The smoke spread to levels 3 and 4 and a little to section 2, level 3. Air pressure has dropped to Martian levels, suffocating the fire.”

“How did it start?”

“Nandan says a plastic cutting saw cut an electrical cord, which showered some glue with sparks.”

“That glue is supposed to be flame resistant,” said Will.

“Sounds like a screw-up; maybe by the terrestrial manufacturer of part of the glue,” suggested Kent.

“It’s against regulations to be operating electrical equipment in the same room where flammable glues are being used.”

“Well, look at this,” said Zach. Will walked over and looked over his shoulder at the console. “Here’s the saw,” noted Zach, pointing. “And here’s the burned area. The saw is in the room but the fire was in the hall.”

“Why were they working at 11 p.m.?” asked Kent.

“Those guys work about thirteen hours a sol,” replied Will. “That’s why they’re ahead of schedule.”

“I think they’ll be working less now,” commented Zach.

“That’s for sure.” Will looked at Rostam. “Where are they? What’s the trajectory?”

“They flew past Venus last week and are heading ‘northward’ in an orbit identical to Venus’s, but out of the plane of ecliptic. They reencounter Venus on 25 June and will gravity assist to Earth. This accident wouldn’t have disturbed their trajectory at all.”

“And no one can help them.” Will looked at Ruhullah. “Call a head of staff meeting, Earth and Mars. I don’t know when we’ll start, but I want us all linked together as soon as possible.”

“This will have implications.”

“Exactly.”

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It was an exhausting and exasperating night. The forty minute time delay to the caravel and to Earth produced tediously slow, repetitious, disjointed discussions. Louisa Turner released news to the media as often as she could to keep them informed, because millions were fascinated and worried. Will finally held a press conference at 11 a.m. Aurorae time to straighten out misconceptions and encourage the discouraged. Then, before going to bed, he turned to the accumulation of messages. One was from Patrice Dumkowski.

“Will, all of us here at Concord have been following the situation on the Intrepid closely. I still think back on our last conversation a few days ago and how it was brim-full with optimism for the future. This is a good time to remember that optimism. One accident won’t change the situation radically, except for cynics and nay-sayers. I say, keep on course. That’s what we plan to do here. We’re about to launch a manned expedition to a volcanic complex 500 kilometers from here; the farthest we’ve traveled yet. I’m sure Mars will continue its plans as well. Bye.”

Will was touched by the comments and immediately hit reply. “Thanks, Patrice. You are quite right, and you’ve made my sol by saying so. We don’t see any reason to change our plans, not yet at least. The Intrepid is still intact, except for a month of repairs to sector 3 and some spilled water to mop up. This was a freak accident. At first we thought there was a violation of safety procedures, but there wasn’t. But the glue is definitely defective; the batch of ingredients from Earth did not include the flame-retardant chemical. Sounds like we’ll be suing. The crew on board gets several sols off to rest and get a good night’s sleep several nights in a row. One problem was fatigue; they were all driving themselves too hard. But the worst case scenario is that we’ll fly the Intrepid back to Mars without anyone living in sector 3. That’ll reduce its capacity from 100 to about 88 people, which we could live with. I doubt that’ll prove necessary because the fire was stopped before the damage was serious. We need to rethink our safety procedures and our procedures for completing major construction work during interplanetary transit when medical care is limited. But in principle, the problems can be solved. One thing that might help is a Mercury flyby, since it’ll reduce the flight duration. So we’ll have some things to talk about in a few months, I think. Bye.”

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