The Moon and the Desert, page 22
“Yes, I know that you think you have to go because you don’t trust Yvette to make the right decisions. You feel you’re the only one who can withstand the gee forces of the launch and arrive with a clear head.”
“I don’t know if it’s a matter of trust, but the medical reports are getting worse. It’s not bad enough that the captain became delusional, but some of the other reports suggest increases in depression and OCD-like behaviors. The amazing thing is that Yvette hasn’t appeared affected until now, but these latest reports? She’s seeing things that aren’t there.”
“So, you’re the psychiatrist, now?”
“Do you think it likely that only a single individual on that ship could remain unaffected?”
“No, but this sounds like you think she falsified earlier reports.”
“Not that so much as she’s not aware of her own impairment—but this latest report? Dvorak and Taketani conspiring to remove her? Confining them to their quarters? I don’t know Dvorak, but I trained with Gavin Taketani. He’s a mediator, not confrontational if he can help it. If he is plotting against her, he would have to have a damned good reason. As it is, she ordered all of the crew to isolate in their quarters and has effectively taken command in the captain’s absence.”
“So, Dvorak—he’s the XO, right? He didn’t challenge her?”
“We don’t know if he did or not, other than this odd report of conspiracy. She’s invoked medical authority, and been rational until just recently. She relieved the captain of command and has been giving orders. She’s in the command hierarchy—at least as far as MarsX is concerned, although I’m not sure why Space Force is going along with it.”
“Perhaps because she’s the person best able to solve this.”
“But what if she’s not? Able, that is. She reported doing a medical exam on Engineer Scott! Scott was blown out into space when Captain LeBlanc blew the cargo hold.”
“It could be a simple name error. A mistake due to stress and overwork.”
“No, it’s not. She’s impaired, and she can’t see it. Everyone else is in awe of her handling of the problem to date, and they don’t see that she’s now in as bad a shape as everyone else.”
“There it is. You don’t trust her.”
“Yeah, that’s fair. The reports of crew health from Mars didn’t make sense. She should have been on top of things, and she wasn’t.”
“If there was even a problem in the first place.”
“Sure. If. But there were docs in NASA and MarsX who agreed that something was wrong. They were just reluctant to pin it on their golden girl.”
“And that galls you, doesn’t it?”
“Wait—when did this turn into a psychotherapy session?”
“Hello? Psychiatrist here! You have to know that my brain is always analyzing.”
“Okay, okay. The truth is, I think the situation is too volatile. If she’s unaffected, then my whole role is to get the cargo pod docked with Percheron. But I don’t think that’s the case. It’s not just a feeling, I’ve been analyzing the medical telemetry. Her heart rate and endocrine levels are way up. Her norepinephrine levels are also off. She’s impaired, and there needs to be an unimpaired doc on-site.”
“Provided you survive the trip. How are the chest twinges?” Nik asked.
“Nothing to worry about; it was just a muscle cramp. One of the fittings in the suit was too tight across my chest. It crimped a medical lead and gave me a bruise. That’s all it was.”
“But the Moonbase CMO wrote that report . . .”
“That’s right, he did. He needed a reason to send me to O’Neill. The truth of the matter is that I do need to prepare for a lot of gees. Being able to train in full gee and the one-point-two-gee section of the habitat wheel is a hell of a lot better than starting from the one-sixth gee of Moonbase. Plus, I’m here, with access to the cargo ship.”
“I know you said that it was just an excuse. But are you sure? What if there really is something to the medical readouts?”
“Look, I know you, Marty, Jen, even the general worry about me, but it’s okay. Want to know the truth? I’m worried, too. This is risky—both to health and career.”
“Uh huh. It’s also a good reason not to run back into a burning crash site.”
“It’s not burning. This is different.”
“Not, it’s not, but it’s what happened to us in North Carolina. You can’t stand by and watch when someone needs help. That’s why we’re all worried for you.”
“Look, I’m just doing my job.”
“You’re doing more than your job. Hey, we understand—I understand. Deep in her heart, Jen understands, too.”
“I know, Nik. I know all the reasons why I shouldn’t do this—and you know all the reasons why I think I should. Give everyone my best, and if you or Sheila talks to Jen, help explain it to her, please?”
“Nope, you’re going to have to come back here and do that yourself, buddy. I won’t tell you to be careful, but you still need to try to stay safe.”
After Glenn signed off the comm, he sat and thought for a few moments.
That conversation didn’t sound ominous at all, now, did it?
To send a cargo drone to rendezvous with Percheron in the shortest time possible, NASA, Space Force and MarsX had pulled every solid and liquid fuel booster in the system in orbit. They even pulled the brand-new Helicity2 hybrid electric-plasma-fusion drive planned for the next-generation Mars-transfer ships Augeron and Clydesdale. The cargo drone would have a propulsion section ten times larger than the actual cargo pod, allowing for excess weight (and volume) capacity in the cargo pod. It would be filled with an expandable foam to keep the contents from shifting under thrust. Glenn had spent some time with the engineers designing that ballast section, and knew they were concerned about filling and expanding the foam from the outside, and not getting a complete penetration of the ballast throughout the open spaces.
Glenn had a plan for that.
George Mellies was an orbital construction engineer. His was also one of the names on the list from General Boatright. Glenn’s new orbital-work exoskeleton was practically a wearable spacecraft, and George had also been part of that design team. Ian had finally come up with a name—or at least an acronym—for it. Mobility In Limiting Environment Suit—or MILES. George passed along several messages from the dev team as well as from General Boatright. The MILES was capable of more than a week’s life support, power, and mobility, with external connections for additional power and supplies as well as waste venting.
Once again, Boatright seemed to be way ahead of him.
Glenn suggested to George that the ballast foam could be sprayed from the inside, embedding his suit in foam—and incidentally inside the cargo pod before its high-speed trip across the Solar System. George’s team was already ahead of him, and packed the pod with tanks and dispensers not only for the quick-hardening foam, but for a catalyst to dissolve it when Glenn needed to get out of the pod.
They still needed to figure out the best position for Glenn within the cargo space. He needed to have his back to a bulkhead and be lying on his back in the MILES suit for the best acceleration tolerance. He also needed waste disposal, heat dissipation and supplemental power connections. The pod was a standard design with compartments for cargo as well as a small cockpit—even though it would not be needed for this flight, and would be filled with the ballast foam. Therefore, George and Glenn decided to pack the MILES suit and a personal stock of food, air, and water in the cockpit before the foam was dispensed. As a bonus, he could use the space and supplies to allow himself to remain isolated from the Percheron crew if necessary. Finally, there was the matter of connecting the interface module to interface his bionic control computer to the ship’s controls.
“Well, this baby is ready to fly across the sky like a bat out of hell,” George said to the multi-site conference call as they finished the last of the preparations.
“Hmm, ‘Bat’ would be a good name for the craft,” Glenn mused. He was on the call to discuss the latest in medical reports from Percheron. As far as he could tell, no one outside OSI had any inkling of his plans, but he still needed to be cautious.
“Absolutely not,” said a Space Force general. “This is the first use of a Helicity Two drive; according to the propulsion team, there’s never been a ship named Helicity One, so that’s what they are proposing. MarsX wants Ares Q, and NASA suggested Schiaparelli.” There were nods all around the video conference as each name was mentioned. The general continued. “Unfortunately for all of you, Space Force nomenclature applies to all non-crewed flights, so this flight is designated C-21-MX.”
The NASA flight director in charge of the meeting grimaced, but held his peace. “Since that’s settled, let’s hear the medical report.”
Nearly everyone on Percheron was reporting one or more neurological symptoms such as anxiety, insomnia, stress reactions, irritability, and anger. Arguments and fights were common. Most concerning were reports of auditory and visual hallucinations, leading to claims that the ship was haunted—with ghostly figures of family members, construction workers, and astronauts roaming the passages. The engineer said there were strange individuals in red shirts in the engine room. The first officer claimed a nineteenth-century sailor was on the bridge calculating position with sextant. Yvette mentioned that Bialik was hearing injured soldiers crying in pain. She prescribed sleeping pills and anxiety medication to everyone, but that didn’t seem to be helping. The best thing they could do was to simply keep their distance from each other . . . on a spacecraft with four months remaining to get to Earth. The situation was bad, and it was getting worse. Once again, the female crew were exhibiting more symptoms than males.
Glenn stressed that finding; it had to mean something. He’d even suggested that hormonal agents be included in the cargo in case they needed to balance testosterone and estrogen, or supplements such as progesterone. MMC had overruled him; after all, the women were on ovulation blockers, and Yvette didn’t even need those. Still, Glenn had direct access to the cargo, and he’d seen to the composition of medical supplies himself.
He also made sure to have pharmaceuticals, medical devices, and other supplies to perform diagnostics. Percheron had essential medical scanning and imaging, but some tests required lab work, and he did not know how much would still be available on the ship. This was really where Glenn’s concerns about the crew function came to the fore—diagnosing the illness and treating it would require concentration, focused attention, and scholarly inquiry. Yvette truly did not lack the ability, no matter how he groused in his private moments. What concerned him was that the unknown disorder seemed to be affecting the very abilities needed to respond to this emergency. They were not only not going to be able to treat themselves, they likely wouldn’t even be able to capture and dock the cargo ship.
Glenn knew that he had to go. He, of all people, could withstand the high gee-forces, thanks to his bionics. His shortened circulatory system meant less fluid to pool under acceleration, and less stress on his heart. Bionic limb strength would enable him to move in high gee if necessary, and he could even wirelessly interface with the Bat’s and even Percheron’s controls.
The C-21-MX would be crewed, and it would have a name.
He wouldn’t need to move out of his protective cocoon until arrival unless there was an emergency. If there was, he could supplement the remote controls with his own local controls. The MILES suit would provide air, water, food, heating, and cooling. It would cushion him from the gee-forces as much as possible, and his additional gravity training and core conditioning would help. He was the best situated, trained, and equipped doctor to solve this problem.
It was time for him to go.
CHAPTER 25:
Weighty Matters
United States Space Force @USSFActual
Launch of the unmanned C-21-MX is scheduled for Midnight, GMT on the 25th.
Tammie D. @SMagnolia
@USSFActual, will we be able to see it?
USSF Office of Scientific Integration
@OSIGenBoatright
@SMagnolia, yes, Tammie, the east coast of the United States should be able to see the initial boost between 8:00 and 8:10 PM. C-21-MX will be launching from O’Neill station, and should be visible without magnification about thirty degrees above the western horizon. After the initial boost, viewers with at least 25x magnification should also be able to see the Helicity2 plume from one to three hours after sunset. OSI MoMaB is excited to support this unique test.
ChirpChat, September 2043
Official mission clock called for launch of the Bat within twenty-four hours; the best launch window was within twelve hours. Bat—still officially the C-21-MX—was undergoing tests for remote control of engines, navigation, and docking. This was a “plugs out” test in NASA vernacular, meaning that all physical links had been disconnected, and only internal systems were active. It was the perfect time for Glenn to enter the cargo pod and become situated in the unused cockpit area. George and his team had argued to spray the ballast foam after the test—supposedly via a remote link—then repeat the plugs out test to ensure that none of the systems were affected. While the foam was setting, Glenn would test his own command and control links while the link to Mission Control was inactive.
Once he made his way to the cargo pod, he waited for the signal from George to release the foam. It was time to record a few messages.
“My dearest Jennifer. By the time you get this. Bat will have launched and I will be committed to my plan. This is something I have to do. Although you may not agree with my reasons, you should know that I must try. I will do this, but then I’m coming back. I’m coming back for you, my dearest love, please believe that—I do. That’s my answer to the question you asked, as well. I will, and I do. Yours, forever and always, Shep.”
The next message was both more difficult, and more likely to cause a reaction. He could make the promise to Jen because he knew his actions were likely to end his career, and he’d be grounded the rest of his life. It was worth giving up a dream of space to be able to share the rest of his life with her. He had lived the reality of space travel, and was doing exactly what he was trained for—in truth, what he was made for. If the consequence was never coming back into space, it would be okay.
“To NASA and MarsX Mission Control. Right about now you should realize that your weight calculations on the C-21-MX are off. However, thrust and guidance have been adjusted to the new values. This cargo ship is not unmanned, and so I have christened it the Bat. I hope that history records this not as an act of piracy, but as a mission of mercy. The crew health on Percheron is critical, and I do not think they will be able to rendezvous and dock with Bat, and then diagnose and treat themselves—at least, not without the assistance of someone who has not been affected. Automated systems are all fine and good, but we already know that crew members behaving erratically have altered Percheron’s course and status. The more-than-twenty-minute communications lag will make remote-controlled docking extremely difficult.
“I have argued for a manned mission, and made the case that my unique condition will make this survivable. Someone has to treat the Percheron crew. As of launch time, the medic is in a coma and the Marsbase medical officer is . . . not functioning at one hundred percent; there may not be competent medical care by the time Bat arrives. I know there have been doubts about my suitability for space missions, but I can handle this. My uniquely remodeled physiology—including my LVAD—will enable me to withstand the high gravity boost to get to Percheron. The automated systems will remain online, but do not attempt to bring me back or I will override it.
“I will reopen communications with Mission Control after the acceleration phase is complete. I will also record and send status messages to keep Mission Medical in the loop. I have to do this, not to prove my own capabilities, but more importantly, to save lives.
“May God and history forgive me, even if you do not. This must be done.
“Shepard, out.”
The recordings would be sent after the initial burn of the strap-on boosters. The engineers had calculated that a six-gee burn for ten minutes, followed by two gees for ten hours, would boost the cargo ship to a speed of over two million kilometers an hour. At that speed, Bat could make the trip to Mars itself in five days. Of course, there was acceleration and deceleration time, plus maneuvering to catch up with Percheron on its ballistic course back to Earth, but the plan was for a total of twenty-two hours of acceleration and deceleration and one hundred twenty-two hours of coasting. This should be a six-day trip if all went well. If it didn’t . . . well, the computer in the MILES suit had been updated with multiple course and trajectory programs, as well as a backup link between his bionic control interface and Bat’s engine and navigational controls.
Glenn knew that General Boatright had been at work behind the scenes. He’d pushed to get Glenn assigned to the Moon, provided the MILES suit, and given him the team to pull this off by arranging the contacts behind much of this endeavor. In fact, the general had been involved since his accident and authorized the release of classified material used for his bionic rehabilitation. There was more to this than met the eye, and while the back-channel plotting bothered Glenn, it encouraged him even more. He had a powerful patron, and he had a team supporting him.
Enough woolgathering, it was time to brace himself for acceleration.
There were numerous bumps and shocks as Bat was disconnected from the support framework used during construction. Glenn connected his control interface to Bat’s computers. He would have anywhere from ten to thirty minutes before Mission Control detected his intrusion; fortunately, there were only ten minutes left in the launch countdown. It felt as if he was reaching out his arm to the navigation controls, and his legs and feet to the engine controls. His bionic eye now showed a view of space, and the heads-up display became ship’s status. He could see stars, but more than that, he could see the solar wind and all of the electromagnetic flux that surrounded the vessel. He could hear the communications between the tugs and the local controller at O’Neill. His legs conveyed the vibrations of the fuel pumps and a subtle background hum as the Helicity2 drive began to warm up. He could feel the drive controls with his feet, and he knew that all he needed to do was to think about where he wanted to go, and the controls would follow.
