(extract)
…
Next day Meena waits in the ute at the safety line. She looks over at M-dog. He beams back at her. He loves driving.
Last night, 2 weeks after the video call with Meena, the incoming ship entered geostationary orbit – no-one calls it areostationary any more – and discarded its transit stage, gently nudging it into position to join the planet’s chain of comms and GPS satellites. Now it has begun its descent.
Along the safety line a dixen settlers cluster. (Being strictly decimal, the town has drifted away from ‘dozen’.) They chatter away amiably, probably saying they’ve forgotten how weird it is to be out on the surface. They’re too far off to eavesdrop – Suitcomm adjusts helmet audio for the distance, orientation and direction of the speaker; it’s as close to simulating open-air speech as anyone is likely to get.
People rarely come outside. It’s partly the radiation risk – small, and minimised by shielding in the suit, but not to be ignored. It’s partly the faff of getting into and out of the suit. But it’s mainly the sheer lack of anything to do out here. In their first month or two newcomers come out for a stroll or a drive, but then the novelty wears off and there’s just nothing happening – nothing grows, flows, walks, flies or changes – beyond the occasional dust storm. And dust storms are not ideal for sight-seeing.
“Still another 10 cents, betta,” says Meena.
He nods. Then, suddenly sullen, says, “We have all the time in the world.” And there’s her opening!
“Ah yes. About that,” begins Meena hesitantly. “If, and it’s if only… If there was a way to get you back to Earth, for a while, would you like to go?”
“Not this again Mum!”
She doesn’t take the bait. Just returns his glare with a steady gaze. Probably. She’s facing north and her faceplate has darkened in the direct sun.
She waits for his face to soften, then: “Darling boy, when you said ‘all the time in the world’ it sounded as if you didn’t like the idea of staying here, on this world. And when you are unhappy, I am unhappy. It is the way with mothers.”
He reaches out a hand and rests it on her forearm.
Just as the silence is about to become uncomfortable he says, “You knew when you came it was going to be one-way. That’s what Lol-Paapi called his book. Why are we even talking about it?”
“Because nothing stays same forever. Because there are things happening that could make it possible.”
He is suddenly alert. “Tell me!”
“Well, I have heard two things – and you must not talk to anyone about them – and I think you will be interested whatever you decide. Turn your Suitcomm to ultra-close,” she orders, doing the same to hers.
“OK,” she resumes. “First is mining. The Company has agreed contracts with half a dixen prospectors to call here on their way to and from the asteroid belt. You know, because you follow these things, that some of the early prospectors made fortunes… and a great many lost everything. Now that we are making fuel here the idea is that instead of flying up empty they can earn money by bringing supplies for us, then refuel and go on their way. Then when they have a full load they can bring it here and we will process it to higher purity. Meanwhile they can refuel and go back out to mine for more, which we can again process, before they return to Luna with a higher-value cargo.”
“That’s so cool!” he observes. “But it really limits the asteroids they can reach. And a round trip like that would take, er… five Earth years. Minimum. And it could be twice that for the outer belt.”
“Yes, it will still be really chancy for them. But anyone who makes a strike will be able to ship much more of it down to Earth-Luna. And they can offset the risk by carrying paying passengers.”
“But how do they get between orbit and the surface?”
“That depends on some work that Olya is doing. Again, this is not to be repeated, but she has a project to see if it’s possible to land a transit stage, instead of leaving it in orbit – we have more than enough GPS now – and pair it with a used freighter to make a shuttle. If that can be made to work it will take fuel and minerals up and bring supplies and ore down.”
“I knew she was up to something sneaky!”
“No, betta, she has been undertaking a confidential feasibility study on behalf of her employer. Not that the words matter, of course, because you will not be using them with anyone!”
He gives her a cheeky grin. “And the second thing?” he asks.
“That is further off and less certain. The Company has been contacted by the Indian national mission. As you know, their settlement is 400 km north, on the equator. It turns out they are looking at building a lift – an elevator. Up to orbit with no rocket! You know that the plan to build a railway between us never got approved because the cost is much higher than the benefit, but if we could export not only to them but also to Earth-Luna then it would go ahead. And then two-way Mars-Luna journeys would become commonplace. Though right now I don’t know what we’d have to export…”
He processes this for a while, then says, “I don’t think they’ll do it any time soon. I know all the scifi books have space elevators, and it would be way easier here than for Earth, but 17,000 km to geostationary orbit? That’s a huge structure!”
“They are talking of using Phobos.”
“Wow!” he says, and withdraws into his head for a while. Then, “I did not see that coming! So build up and down at the same time from the moon? That’s clever. But the masses… The angular momentum… I’ll have to think about that.”
He retreats into his happy place. She watches her precious first-born – only-born – without knowing whether he’s thinking about the engineering, the idea of taking a trip to Earth, or something else entirely.
“Does TT know about this?” he pipes up after a while.
“No. She will be in favour of it, like anything that’s spectacular, adventurous and possibly foolhardy, but first I want to hear what you think. Now, the landing is in about two cents.” She congratulates herself on her timing. She has laid out the information for Mangal but relieved him of the pressure of an immediate response… has given him time to go away and think as thoroughly and analytically as few of his age can. Or any age, she thinks.
The incoming ship will have entered the atmosphere by now, creating a sonic boom that the atmosphere is too tenuous to carry to the surface. The engine will soon fire, and then it ought to be visible. To sharp eyes. That know where to look.
Looking up in a suit is difficult. Tipping your head back will simply give you a close-up of the inside of your helmet. You have to tip your whole body back, push your face forward as close to the faceplate as you can and roll your eyes upward. People are trying already (targeting wildly different parts of the sky, it seems).
And now someone spots it. Excited chatter and pointing arms spread through the group. The point of light seems to hang unmoving for an eternity. And then, suddenly, the ship is growing rapidly above its fiery base, occasional sideways jets licking out to keep it vertical. Then, when it seems too late to prevent a crash, the fire blossoms into a searing burst. An instant later it all disappears from view as dust fountains up in a thick wall.
The orange glare inside the dust wall fades away. Trym’s voice in Meena’s helmet confirms that all systems are nominal – which is spacefaring jargon for nothing went wrong – and the watchers, who have turned to her for this message, cheer when she climbs onto the ute’s seat and raises both arms.
And that’s it for 20 or 30 cents. The passengers will now have to remain seated while their vestibular systems start getting used to dealing with gravity again. When they are safe to stand, they must fold away their seats, make their way down to the bottom of the ship, carry out their pressure and comm checks – they will have suited up before landing – enter the airlock one at a time, and emerge. Crews are told not to rush this routine – better to keep the greeters waiting than to fall on your ass because you haven’t got your balance back – but they always do. The guidance is to leave an absolute minimum of 20¢ before standing. Somewhere around the 26¢ mark, 38 Earth minutes, they’ll be able to watch the controllers on Luna watch them land: that’s how long video signals take for the round trip. They’ll probably stay seated for that at least.
…