Seconders, p.8
Seconders, page 8
“Bulls-eye!” shouted Callum.
“Watch your descent Beth,” Jan called, “you’re taking it too fast.”
In the elation of her sharp shooting Beth had forgotten to slow her flight. Too late she pulled on the flaps. There was a jerk and the spool ripped off the underside of her glider, which tipped it forward into a spin. The spool shot back as if it were on elastic and sliced through Callum’s wing. Jan’s breath caught in his throat, there was nothing he could do but watch. Callum’s glider spiralled out of control, plummeting towards the barren slopes of Pavonis Mons. Beth was struggling but beginning to push her glider out of its spin. When she finally pulled it level, she looked around for two gliders and could only see one.
“Where’s Callum?”
“…”
“Jan, I can’t see Callum.”
“Beth… it was an accident…”
“Oh no! NO! NO!” she screamed. Jan guessed she must have seen the glittering white fragments of wing and fuselage strewn across the volcano.
“Beth, listen to me.”
“Oh… no… Callum, no…” she was sobbing now. It was heart breaking.
“Please Beth, listen. You have to go back. You’re in no condition to fly. Go back and land as quick as you can.”
“Land?”
“Yes, go back and land your glider. Don’t think about anything else, just go back and land.”
“Land… yes… ok.” She banked away and headed north towards the runway. Jan hoped and prayed that she would make it. Then he prayed that he would.
“Captain Bulman, there’s been an accident…” Jan explained what had happened. There was a short silence followed by an order.
“Continue with the operation, Wojcik. No more mistakes.”
What do you say to that? Jan knew how much depended on anchoring that cable. He knew there was no time to land and see to Beth. He turned his glider around and lined it up on the black-blue metal end-weight.
Jan was not as confident a shot as Beth, so he took a dummy run past the weight first, lining up the sights, pulling away and then opening the flaps to slow his flight. The second time around he found the target in his sights again and decided it was now or never. He fired. There was a high-pitched whine as the spool paid out the cable, the harpoon pierced metal and he banked.
For a moment Jan was disorientated by the sharp tilt of the horizon, then remembered to pull the flaps to slow himself before levelling out and lining himself up with the caldera at the top of Pavonis. The spool was still whining. He checked and rechecked the airspeed to make sure it wasn’t exceeding what the spool could take. Now he could see the anchorage and called the anchor team to let them know he was coming. Shanks was in a rover with a pair of droids, ready to go.
The mouth of the caldera yawned wide beneath Jan, over forty kilometres across. The rim rose like a small mountain range over the plain within. The anchorage was on the near edge of the caldera, as close to the equator as possible, and so he steered the glider straight towards it. As he flew, he steadily lost height and checked over his shoulder that he still had the cable end. He was about two-hundred metres above the rim when he closed on the anchorage and pulled the release lever. The whine from the spool ceased abruptly as it fell away.
“Guide cable dropped,” Jan called.
“I see it, on my way,” Shanks replied.
As he passed the ragged rim, Jan started a gentle turn that would take him back out over the slopes and north towards the runway. It was in the elevator team’s hands now. They would have to retrieve the guideline and haul in the main elevator cable, to secure it to the anchorage. Jan had done what he could.
He said a prayer for Callum and was about to ask for Beth’s safe return when the landing strip came into view. There was a knot of rovers at the far end and he felt his stomach muscles clench.
“Wojcik, this is Bulman. Make a circuit of the landing strip and come in from the east. The east end is blocked so you’ll need to aim for the west end to land.”
Jan already knew the answer, but had to ask: “Why?”
“We have teams picking up the wreckage of glider four.” Bulman’s voice was flat. Unemotional.
“Beth?”
“She’s dead.”
August 6th, Mars orbit – V. Meier
The second team were packed into the nose module again, shoulder to shoulder like commuters on a train. And just like a commuter train, nobody spoke a word to anyone else. There’s nothing you can say when you find out that two people have just died to make your landing safe.
Callum Douglas’s death had been a tragic accident. Beth Daley’s death was incomprehensible to any of them. She was the team’s most experienced glider pilot, so how could she have lost her head and crashed? Bulman’s account had been curt and factual, ending with the news that the elevator cable had been secured and the powered climber car was on its way up to get the plants. Suárez ignored the implied insult. Instead, he told him that their thoughts were with Callum and Beth’s families and that they would assist in whatever way they could when they were down.
Dark thoughts lurked in the back of Verena’s mind. She knew Beth. Although they had only met a few times, they had got on well. When Verena asked her about gliding, she would bubble with the energy of an enthusiast and brim with the knowledge of a professional. She was so looking forward to gliding over another planet that Verena felt swept up with her. It had been no surprise that her landing on Mars had been textbook, unlike poor Pieter Storhaug’s. The suggestion that she could have crashed by accident, no matter how upset she was about Callum, seemed untenable to Verena. Had she crashed deliberately? Had she been so overcome by guilt, no matter how misplaced, that she had committed suicide? The thought tore at her heart, and she could only guess whether similar thoughts were crowding those sombre faces around her.
It took most of the day for the climber to ascend. Once the plant containers had been stacked into it, Suárez asked for Figueredo and his two agricultural technicians to take the remaining space and accompany the plants on their journey down. They would be the first human space elevator travellers to descend onto Martian soil. The rest would have to wait their turn.
It was only after they had closed the airlock door and started their descent that Suárez received another call from Bulman.
“Another storm is coming. Brace yourselves for a rough landing.”
A less generous soul may have detected a hint of glee in his warning. Verena chose to give him the benefit of her doubts.
Sol 209, Mars Space Elevator – V. Meier
The climber returned, spreading its solar arrays to the sun like petals. Verena pitched in lifting and strapping the supplies into the climber cabin. The lack of gravity eased the task. While she looked forward to being able to walk normally again, Verena knew that unpacking at the anchorage was going to be much harder work than she had been used to for many months. Even harder if they were going to be fighting a Martian dust-storm. She pushed such dour thoughts to the back of her mind as they began their descent.
Looking up Verena could see the huge cable spool that had been delivered by a previous mission and nestled into the Aldrin, now taking its new role as elevator head. This was it: the colonists were on their own now, wholly dependent on Mars for their survival.
Looking down she saw the reds and ochres of the Martian landscape. Her new home. Leo’s home. To the west she could see Olympus Mons, unmistakable even from this distance. To the north she could see the flat wastes of the Borealis Basin. All features to the south and east were lost beneath an angry orange dust cloud. She could not see the anchorage as it was obscured by the base of the climber, but she guessed that it may already be under siege from the Martian winds.
Gradually she became aware of a strange sensation: weight. Onboard the Aldrin, Verena had only been aware of her momentum as she collided with walls and ceilings. Now she was starting to feel a gentle pull towards the floor of the climber and the strange world below. She could just make out a faint background hum as the dynamo started to turn the downward fall into electrical energy, stored in batteries to assist with the next upward journey. She wondered when that journey might be, as it would be many more months before the Armstrong returned with its next supply run.
Her eyes drifted up to space again. On the horizon of the red planet Verena could just make out a tiny speck of light. Stefanie saw her squinting and explained what it was.
“Phobos, the bigger brother of Deimos,” she said. “The first team had to go nudge it before they landed.”
“Nudge it? Why?”
“Just in case it ran into our elevator cable.”
“No way!”
“It’s only six-thousand kilometres up, less than half the altitude of our elevator head. So, the first team gave it a little push to move its orbit further away from the equator.”
Verena shook her head. “I can’t get over how many things the Mars strategists had to plan for.”
“How many things have you had to plan for our new habitat on Mars?”
Verena considered the list of issues that they had identified and tackled over the last four years. “A hell of a lot, but… that is just one part of our mission.”
“And so, the strategists delegated that part to you and the engineers, just as they delegated the plan for Phobos.”
“Yes, I suppose it is all made up of many projects. It still hurts my head thinking about it all though.”
“Enjoy the view instead,” smiled Stefanie.
Verena did, for many hours, until the view started to disappear behind a cloud of orange dust. Soon she could hear a faint hiss rising over the hum of the dynamo, as the airborne dust particles grazed the hull of the climber. Gradually she became aware of her seat and grab-rail vibrating, and the hiss grew to a roar. Cathal held her hand and they saw a few of the other couples do the same. Verena was starting to wonder whether the engineers who designed the climber had allowed for such violent storms when she felt it slow and come to an abrupt stop.
“Have we arrived?” asked Bim den Arend, casually.
“I don’t think so,” answered Suárez, cautiously. “The descent is supposed to take another thirty minutes.”
Bernardo checked the climber’s controls and announced that the drive had cut out. “I think it must be the dust. I expect the motor’s choked with it.”
“We can’t exactly lean out and shake it loose, can we?” noted Santiago.
“Looks like we’re stuck then,” said Bernardo, sourly.
“So near yet so far,” observed Bim in philosophical tone.
“I don’t suppose we could just drop the rest,” Verena asked with a wry smile.
Markus raised an eyebrow.
“Actually, that might be an idea,” intervened Santiago. “I believe the climber has emergency brakes. We could disengage the motor and dynamo and control our descent speed with the brakes.”
“Could that work, Herr Eckenweber?” asked Suárez.
Markus frowned and engaged his tablet. Suárez left him to run simulations for at least half an hour before interrupting him with a polite enquiry. “There are some scenarios where we do not crash to our deaths,” Markus admitted.
“That is encouraging,” smiled Suárez. “Would you be kind enough to elaborate?”
Markus took Suárez and Bernardo aside to explain what pressure they would need to apply to the cable brake to allow them to move and when to increase the pressure to bring them to a halt. The critical part was watching the altimeter and timing the pressures since they would be falling blind, into the storm. Eventually Bernardo satisfied himself it could work and disengaged the motor.
The elevator car lurched downwards, and Cathal grabbed Verena’s hand again. “Grand idea there, hon,” he said, gripping his seat with his other hand.
“Maybe. I will tell you when we get there.” She could feel her stomach rising as they descended.
For some while there was only the roar of the wind and the thrumming of the cabin hull. Bernardo was starting to sweat, and he kept looking at Markus for his cue to increase the brake pressure. Eventually Markus looked up from his tablet and nodded. Bernardo obliged willingly, and they all felt the inertia of their increasing bodyweight sinking them into the floor. There was a grinding sound as the brakes fought to grip the cable. Markus grimaced.
“The dust. It’s causing the brakes to slip over the cable. I didn’t factor that into my simulations…”
Whatever Markus was going to say next was lost as the climber slammed to a halt and everyone was thrown flat on the floor. For a few moments they all just lay there, and Verena wondered whether she was the only one still breathing. Eventually she heard a banging on the airlock door from outside and over the intercom a sardonic voice said “Welcome to Mars. And believe me, you’re all welcome to it!”
Sol 210, Pavonis Mons – V Meier
Verena had been looking forward to the ride down the slopes of Pavonis Mons. She had pictured the views of the Martian landscape laid out before them and conjured her first glimpse of the site for their dome. She had imagined the welcome into camp by fellow colonists, eager to see friendly faces. The reality was so different.
The first thing Verena noticed was red dust, it was on every surface and everyone she met. The metallic tang reminded her of blood. Sweating faces, made ruddy by Martian dirt, helped the new arrivals who were struggling with the abrupt return of gravity. They hefted supply crates and equipment onto their shoulders as if they were toys and carried them across the echoing anchorage dock hall to the rovers. The grubby once-white vehicles stood in a row, each the height of a truck and twice as broad with four chunky wheels that topped a man. Rusty ramps rested against their rear door thresholds and a steady flow of dirty orange overalls trudged up and down them, like worker ants, or prison convicts reflected Verena dourly. Little was said. The focus was on the job.
Verena and Cathal were told to get into a rover and hold tight. They clung to the grimy bars and webbing as the vehicles bumped and rattled across the treacherous terrain, rocked by the gales. She couldn’t see anything through the window and had to stop herself from asking how the driver could tell whether the guidance systems were taking them off a cliff edge or not. She knew they were driving downhill by the way she was pressed into the safety straps, but that was all. No one spoke as they couldn’t hear themselves above the roar of the wind. Verena gained a distinct impression that the driver wouldn’t have said anything to them anyway. She thought his name was John Shanks, but she was finding it difficult to remember and thought again about what Cathal had said: too little time spent training all teams together.
When they reached the hab at Pavonis Chasma, Cathal and Verena got up to leave the rover and the driver yelled at her. She had forgotten to put her helmet on. She felt stupid and small. She could have killed herself and her baby just by stepping out of the rover without it. She checked the seal twice and struggled out into the wind which buffeted her against the huge tyres of the rover. She could just see the black and blue warning stripes on the door of the airlock through the blur of orange dust. She held Cathal’s hand and together they blundered towards it.
The airlock pressurised with ear popping speed. They rubbed aching ears and squinted in the harsh LED light. They were bundled through the inner door and told to go find dorm nine. It was a bare white pod made up of 3-D printed lozenge panels, linked together like the weave of a basket and covered with pressurised fabric. It was already streaked with dirt and had the feel of an emergency disaster zone shelter that had seen too many disasters. It was just large enough to squeeze in a desk and a pair of bunks, one over the other: baby-making strictly discouraged until the dome is up, thought Verena feeling even more wretched. The porthole gave the same view as from the rover: a blur of dust. If she’d had more energy Verena would have started unpacking their few personal things which would make it feel more like a temporary home. Instead, she clambered into the top bunk and stared at the egg-crate light diffuser hung from the middle of the dusty fabric ceiling. Cathal sat on the edge of the lower bunk and put his head in his hands. She could imagine what he was thinking because she was thinking it too: what the hell had they done? Why were they here?
Exhaustion overcame them. Verena had disturbing dreams of a new-born baby covered in blood and red dust. They were woken by someone knocking on their door. The man was short, broad shouldered with dark hair and a frown and he re-introduced himself as Ben Voight, telling them that Captain Bulman wanted to see them right now. Voight didn’t seem the conversational type. Verena decided to wait and find out what Bulman wanted, rather than try asking Voight. They followed him through a series of muddy acrylic tubes which connected the hab inflatables together, each one wreathed in red dust and rattling in the wind, which moaned at them from outside.
“This storm must be over soon,” Verena said.
“I doubt it,” said Cathal. “They can last for weeks on Mars.”
“But we are not in the right season for long storms.”
“I’d cut out the arguments in front of Bulman if I were you,” advised Voight, over his shoulder. “He doesn’t have much time for technical disagreements.”
Cathal and Verena looked at each other. Captain Bulman’s office looked much like their own dorm and was no larger. They took the seats in front of his desk, even though he did not invite them to sit.
“I’ve been hearing rumours,” Bulman started. “I don’t like rumours: bad for morale. I want facts. Are you having a baby?”
No ‘how are you’. No ‘welcome to Pavonis Chasma’. Straight to business. Verena knew enough about Hal Bulman for that to be unsurprising. His question was to both of them because they were both there, but he was staring at Verena, as if somehow it must all be her fault.
“Ja.” she answered. She wasn’t going to volunteer more; he’d have to dig for it.
“Why now?”
“He wasn’t planned for now, but after discussion we decided that we wanted to keep him,” said Cathal in his most reasonable tone.
