The Moon and the Desert, page 21
“Sweat doesn’t evaporate as well in a suit, even the extra breathing room in here won’t help if I get dripping wet from exertion. Better to be a bit cool now than risk moisture penetration into suit systems.”
“Understood, Glenn. Okay, all systems reporting green. Go ahead and take it out for a run.”
“I’m going to try for twenty-five kph, around fifteen miles per hour. I can maintain that on my own pretty easily on Earth. In this suit on the Moon should be a breeze.”
“A breeze in the vacuum. Very funny, Shep,” Ian replied. “Okay, according to readings you’re operating strictly on the force feedback servos. Those are operating just fine, but I’m going to send a lockout code to shut them off. Think about interfacing directly with your bionic control computer.”
“Wait one, I don’t want you sending the code while I’m in mid-leap and I lock up and go tumbling. Okay, I’m stopped now. Send it.” Several green lights in Glenn’s heads-up display turned amber, and a red light turned green.
“Sent. Now, it’s just like your exo. Take a step.”
“Okay . . . that felt a bit like swimming in molasses for a moment, but it passed. Speeding up . . . That’s better. I’m moving along in an easy lope with about ten meters per bounce.”
“Copy. I’ve got the same on this end. System integration is nominal, lags are down in the picosecond range. No problems. All right, you can give it a little bit of gas, if you want.”
Glenn grunted to himself as he realized that he was still continuing to move his legs and arms in time with the motions of the suit. In truth, he could pull his legs up in a tuck and let the suit do all of the work—either that, or let the suit move the limbs passively. For now, he decided to stay in the same position, wearing the suit like any other garment, but he stopped exerting force with his muscles, and the external speed started to climb. “All right, all okay. Five-zero kph and bounding along. I stopped thinking about my legs and just told the suit to move and it got a lot easier.”
“Excellent, Glenn. See if you can take it up to seventy-five.”
“Seven-five acknowledged and kicking up some dust. Are you reading the camera on the Moon buggy?”
“I am but you’re actually out of the picture. One of the L1 satellites has you in view, but I’ll pan the buggy camera a little bit . . . Oh, ho, ho! Nice rooster tail there, Speedy! You’re kicking up more than just a little bit of dust. I’m also reading one hundred kilometers per hour.”
“I thought I’d push it a bit more. One hundred kay, running on the surface of the Moon. Not bad. Not half bad at all.” he paused a moment, then resumed. “One request, though.”
“Oh, what’s that?”
“Can you give me maneuvering jets? The bounds are getting a bit long. Moving this fast in low gee makes me risk losing contact with the surface. I think I’m going to need some extra boost to stay grounded.”
“Hmm, not a bad idea. I know that there was talk of an orbital version of the suit. Let me talk it over with the dev team. So, tabling that for now, how are you feeling, Shep?”
“Okay, felt a bit of a twinge for a moment back down around seventy-five. Kind of like a pulled chest muscle, but it passed quickly.”
“Hmm, I’m not seeing anything here. Biotelemetry doesn’t show anything, but then I don’t get the full bio readout. Are you being monitored back at Moonbase?”
“The CMO gets a readout. It was a condition of my being up here in the first place. He won’t tell anybody, though. The general swore him to secrecy.”
“I suggest you check in with him . . . that is, if he doesn’t call you before you get back. Still, time to slow it back down.”
“Agreed, I’m starting to feel a cramp or something, probably an intercostal muscle in the chest, but I’m coming back down through fifty kays, headed for twenty-five. I’m also starting to circle back; it’s going to take a while.”
“That’s fine. Keep it down to twenty-five and I’ll keep the force-feedback servos offline for now. How are you feeling?”
“The cramp is easing up; it now just feels like a muscle twitch. Probably just time for a visit with the massage terrorist. I think it will be okay, so let’s call this one a good test.”
“Looks good, here, Glenn. I can stay on the line for bit, but will clear off the comm frequency and just keep your telemetry up. Call me if you need me.”
“Roger, Ian. The buggy’s in sight and I’m slowing down to a walk. The test is done and all is well. Glenn out.”
When Glenn got back inside the buggy and out of the exo, he still felt a slight twinge in his chest. Something wasn’t quite right, but it didn’t seem serious. He would see if he could get some time with the Moonbase resident massage therapist—a position he’d created when he was Moonbase CMO after witnessing firsthand the need for someone with those skills. One of the issues with working in reduced gravity was an increased frequency of muscle strains and sprains. It was easy to forget that decreased gravity and weight did not change mass. Large, heavy objects—or ones moving one hundred kilometers per hour—still required exertion to start and stop movement. This twinge had all the hallmarks of a pulled muscle, so he’d consult her . . . later. For now, it was time to get back to his quarters, take a nice hot shower, and check on correspondence regarding the Percheron.
“Dr. Shepard, I’m so sorry, but I’ve been looking at the medical telemetry from your surface excursion. I’m not happy with your heart function and circulation.” Jeff Ling had stopped by Glenn’s quarters later that evening.
Glenn had just gotten off a very awkward comm with Jen. He’d followed Marty’s advice and reached out to her. Deep down, he knew he’d hurt her and needed to try to repair the damage done to their relationship. She seemed receptive to the call, but cool. He was unsure if it would be possible to regain the old warmth and feeling, but he was coming to realize that he needed to try, so he’d talked for most of the call, trying to fill her in on what he’d been doing. He couldn’t say everything via unsecured comm, particularly given what he was planning, but that was probably for the best.
Unfortunately, he had a feeling that what the CMO would say next was going to sideline all of his plans.
“What kind of a problem, Jeff?”
“You need to get back under full gravity, or even higher. It’s not a problem now, but I can see you losing muscle tone. With your reduced blood volume and shorter circulation system, you need Earth normal, or even higher gravity for short periods. I’m recommending you head up to O’Neill station and take advantage of their one-gee and one-point-two-gee habitat wheels.” O’Neill station was at Earth’s fifth Lagrange point—the same orbit as the Moon, but following in the orbit by sixty degrees. That’s where they were assembling the cargo pod.
Glenn fought to suppress a grin. “So, what you’re telling me is that I need to spend some time in a higher gee environment for my cardiac health. Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s pretty much it, Shep. I’m also going to prescribe some specific exercises. I think you need to do more cardio, plus something to improve your core muscle strengths. Crunches are good, but planks are better. You can do those in the one-gee areas, but I think you should do at least an hour of exercise each day in the one-point-two-gee ring. Oh, and don’t spend any more time in the point-eight-gee wheel than you need to. I’ll be monitoring to see if this improves your readings.”
Ling seemed to have a bit of a facial twitch. Wait, did he just wink? Glenn thought, then continued aloud. “Well Jeff, I know some of the docs have doubts about how well I can perform in space. God knows I’ve been fighting Space Force on it for the past four years. If you think I need to do it, I’ll go.”
“Yes, Shep, I think it will be a great value to go out to O’Neill and build up some cardiovascular stamina.”
Oh, this was not suspicious at all. Ling was sending him to the exact same place where the cargo pod was being assembled.
This had General Boatright written all over it.
The emergency cargo pod was being assembled at L5 Lagrange point so that it wouldn’t have to interact with Earth or Moon gravity. The L4 and L5 points, also known as the leading and trailing “trojans,” already had a velocity advantage over anything originating in a close Earth orbit, since they shared the same orbit and velocity as the Moon. A “slingshot” trajectory around the Earth for additional gravity assist was out of the question, because the craft would have to dive too deep into Earth’s atmosphere to get sufficient acceleration, so the trailing Lagrange point gave the optimum trade-off of access and launch position.
If someone wanted to send Glenn to O’Neill—where he’d be in a position to work with loading the cargo pod—that was fine with him. If the doctor wanted him to spend a couple hours a day on cardiovascular conditioning in higher gravity than the Moon . . . well, that was fine, too.
It was a setup.
Of course, it was a setup, but it was exactly the setup he wanted.
CHAPTER 24:
Don’t Call It Piracy
Mars Exploration Consortium @TheRealMarsX
At MarsX, we’re all about improving access to deep space resources. High-speed cargo transit to Mars vicinity has been in the works for some time, and the recent successful Marsbase missions indicate it is time for a trial. Earth to Mars in one month is becoming a reality.
USSF Office of Scientific Integration
@OSIGenBoatright
To clarify, the upcoming cargo ship to Mars will be unmanned. OSI MoMaB is proud to support and coordinate the test of novel high-acceleration means to deliver essential supplies to Mars and Beyond!
ChirpChat, September 2043
Glenn, like all astronauts, had very little personal gear to pack. The proliferation of private cargo ventures and reusable launch vehicles had made it easier to travel off Earth, but space and weight were still at a premium. Ships and stations provided uniforms, bedding, and sundries, so he only had one suit of formal civilian clothes, a few flowery print shirts from Hawaii, and his old Space Force dress uniform. The latter had been re-tailored after his rehabilitation since it needed to accommodate his bionics. Mainly, his personal effects consisted of an electronic book reader, a digital picture frame, two hardbound books of classic science fiction and an autographed copy of Homer Hickam’s Don’t Blow Yourself Up. He’d met the rocketry pioneer and science historian when he was twenty-two, at a space science conference in Tucson, Arizona. He’d bought the book for Hoop, but his uncle had insisted that Glenn read it, too.
During his recovery from the accident, Hoop had brought it to him in the hospital, tapped the cover and asked “What have you learned?”
“I need to do a better job of not blowing myself up, I guess,” was Glenn’s response.
The digital display frame was for pictures of important events and people. There was one of Aunt Sally and Uncle Hoop from back when he was young and they were raising him. Nik had caught a picture of him yanking the door off the wrecked car in North Carolina, with the local sheriff looking on in awe. There was also a picture of Jennifer in Maui, and of the two of them with Aunt Sally. Finally, he had a collage of pictures from the rehab hospital. Various patients showed off their advanced prosthetic and bionic limbs, with interspersed shots of Marty, Nik, and Jakob.
There wasn’t much to put in the shipping module, since most of his possessions were with Aunt Sally. Home was Hoop and Sally’s house in Lexington; this was just a place to work. He liked Moonbase and its people, but he wouldn’t mind leaving.
He had a job to do and that job was on O’Neill Station.
“Hi, Jen. How is the on-the-job research going?” After having monopolized the last call talking about his own concerns, Glenn figured he needed to let her talk this time.
“It’s not too bad. I just got back from Maui working up in the Haleakala crater training area.”
“Really? Seen any green flashes lately?”
“Ha, ha, very funny. Not exactly easy to do when you’re inside a crater at twelve thousand feet of elevation. On the other hand, sunrises are spectacular. They let us go up to the summit the other day. It’s fantastic to watch the sun come up from there.”
“Did you turn to the west to see the shadow of the mountain?”
“I did. That triangular shadow is wonderful . . . but cold.”
“Cold? Really? Don’t they have you in spacesuits up there? I was always too warm in the simulation exercises.”
“We wear them in the crater. For one thing, with the silicates in the dust, it’s best not to breathe too much. With some of the heavy work we also need the extra oxygen. On the one hand, exertion warms me up, on the other hand, getting sweaty ends up giving me chills. On average, it’s colder than my preference since we need to stay at a temperature that doesn’t result in perspiration.”
“True, it’s a consideration up here, too. The fans in the suits and venting of pressurized air can chill you pretty quickly.”
“I can’t really complain, though, this is fascinating. It’s interesting, a good place to train, good people, and I’m learning new stuff every day.”
“Your text said something about continuing training after this cycle. What happened to going through the first two stages, writing the feature, then going home to write your book?”
“Well, my editor wants me home. I’ve been recording one feature a month and he’s been releasing them on a regular basis, but he wants me to get the book finished so that he can put me on other projects. Leo, my publisher, changed all of that. He negotiated a contract change so that I don’t work for the news outlet anymore, I now work for the communications company which owns it, but on loan to the public affairs offices of NASA and MarsX. I sort of work for them now. As long as I keep serializing the monthly features, there’s an editor in the PAO assembling them and sending them back to me for editing and approval. We’ve almost got enough for the first book.”
“‘First book’? Really? That implies multiple books and a continuing series. What exactly do they have in mind?”
“I’m not entirely sure, but Leo mentioned that my work caught the attention of that general of yours.”
“Huh. Boatright’s at it again. He’s becoming a bit of a puppet master. He’s been pretty supportive, but I never really know what he’s planning.”
“Leo said something about reporting off-Earth. That would be nice, but I can’t help but think that we need to resolve matters between us.”
“I . . . I know. I’m sorry. I panicked. Then I was too embarrassed to admit I was wrong.”
“Damn right, you were. I went off to training thinking that it was pointless because you wouldn’t be there when I was done. You hurt me, Glenn.”
Ouch, he thought. She called me Glenn, not Shep.
“Oh.” It was all he could think of to say. He’d already said he was sorry, but it seemed so inadequate.
“Anyway, it seems to me that you’re about to head off and do something stupid and heroic again, and I really want to get this settled. I do still love you, even if you broke my heart.”
“I love you too, but what I said back then stands, I’m . . . well, I can’t say, but yeah, it’s probably stupid, and I don’t want that to splash back on you. I couldn’t stand it if it held you back.”
“You’re still a fool, Glenn Shepard. Do what you have to do, then come back to me and settle this.”
Before he could say a word in response, Jen cut the connection.
“So, did you talk with her?”
“Yeah, I did, Nik. We’ve been on comm a couple of times, and a few texts in between.”
“And?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You’re a fool Shep.”
“Almost her exact words.”
“Almost?”
“Ok, her exact words, except she called me ‘Glenn.’”
“Ouch. Sheila’s stayed in touch with her. She’s hurting. It’s like being abandoned at the altar all over again.”
“Oh, I never thought of that.”
“Of course not. It’s because you’re a fool. Enough of that. How are things going for you at O’Neill? Keeping up the heavy gee conditioning?”
“I’m exercising. Still, that’s not the only thing I’m doing. This isn’t just a rehab assignment. Most of the time I’m working on the packing list for the cargo ship and participating in the planning meetings with respect to medical supplies. They keep arguing over the weight of the food and water vs. fuel consumption. Now they’re talking about sending extra fuel because telemetry says Percheron made excess maneuvers. That might be more erratic behavior, so I’m pushing for additional medical supplies. General Boatright got me assigned to figuring out what could be causing the medical and behavioral issues so that we have the appropriate meds in the shipment.”
“Like what?”
“Well, we can’t rule out toxicity, so we’ll need chelators, maybe even dialysis supplies if it’s not overtly viral or bacterial. The latest report says LeBlanc is suffering from liver failure. It could be parasitic from something growing in the hydroponic sections, so, we need herbicides and fungicides—both industrial and medical, and at that, ointments, powders, oral meds and injectables. The outbound flight took honeybees for the greenhouse dome, so we need insecticides . . . not to mention counteragents and antitoxins for all of that.”
“They have flowers and insects?”
“Mars base does, but Percheron only has dwarf fruit trees. Those provide good sources of vitamins, and they taste good. Still, they had to be pollinated, and they used the outbound honeybees for that.”
“You think flies or mosquitoes might have gotten in with the honeybees?”
“We can’t rule it out. Someone needs to go there and look. We can’t count on the crew being able to do it. They’ve had what, a month now? Still no resolution.” Glenn sighed. “Then again, you already know my views on that.”
