The Martian: Lewis' Contingency Plan
Yet ANOTHER short one, about Lewis telling Johannsen about her contingency plan. Some bits are mostly novel-faithful.
Hermes, Johannsen's quarters
Two days before rendezvous with the Taiyang Shen
Lewis stuck her head into Johannsen's quarters; the younger woman never closed her door. "Beth, you got a minute?"
Johannsen paused Leather Goddesses Of Phobos (not only a geek, but a retro geek - she also had MAME installed, so she could run the ROMs of Space Invaders, Gorf and Asteroids - Author's Note: So do I, on my Win 8 laptop!) and smiled. She always had time for Melissa Lewis, never mind that she was the Commander. "Sure." Then something odd penetrated.
Commander Lewis very seldom used first names; she'd explained once that it was a holdover habit from her Navy days. Thus her use of a first name was unusual. So was her next request.
"Mind if I shut the door?"
Now Johannsen was a little nervous. "Um, okay."
The door closed, and Lewis sat down next to Johannsen. "Okay. We're on course for the Taiyang Shen, and Vogel tells me she's on the correct glide path; he has the probe on approach radar. So our rendezvous should go according to plan." She paused. "Should. I won't say 'will' because," she shrugged, "Murphy. Even in this day and age, things can go wrong. Not saying they will, but they can. Agreed?"
"I guess so," Johannsen agreed uneasily. "But these days MTBF is higher than ever."
Lewis said quietly, "Beth, look at me." She did. "NASA always plans for unlikely happenings. Especially since Apollo 13. So I have to plan for the worst, while hoping for the best. It is still possible that something will go wrong with the rendezvous. A malfunctioning steering thruster, for example. Martinez can mostly compensate if it occurs on the Hermes. But...what if it occurs on the Taiyang Shen? He has virtually no control over that. Not enough, anyway.
"Yes, the launch went perfectly. Yes, she's still behaving exactly as calculated - the CNSA does good work. But even so, something still might happen. As the Commander, I cannot ignore that possibility. So in the worst case, the rendezvous fails somehow. We don't get the supplies. The conclusion is obvious."
Johannsen gulped. "We'll still be on the Rich Purnell trajectory. We can't slow down, Hermes doesn't have the fuel - or the capability. The Space Shuttle is no longer used, and there's no other launch vehicle ready at Houston, so there's no way Earth could rescue us. We don't have any kind of escape craft, we couldn't afford the mass."
Lewis nodded. "Which means?"
"Which means...we'll be committed to the trajectory. We'll go to Mars...without enough food for ourselves and Mark."
"Result?"
The younger girl gulped again. "We die. Mark will starve to death on Mars."
"Exactly. With all six of us dead, the Ares Program is finished. NASA will never recover from the blow. But...if there's even one survivor, we can try again with Ares 5, and maybe - maybe - Congress will fund Ares 6. Certainly there would be an even bigger sympathy vote than there was when Watney was declared dead." She set her shoulders. "So our worst-case planning means there has to be one survivor. I've thought this through very carefully. I've decided that you have the best chance."
"Me?!"
"You," Lewis nodded. "Being the youngest, you're also the most adaptable. You have the skills required to take Hermes to Mars and see her safely home. Plus you're the smallest, which means you need the least food, water, air and heat." She looked grim. "We'll need to maximise your supplies, which means we won't be able to use them at all. Beck has enough morphine in his medical store to provide lethal overdoses for us. If the rendezvous fails, we'll use them straight away."
"Dear God," Johannsen breathed, horrified, "I - I can't ask you guys to -"
"You won't be asking," Lewis interrupted. "We'll just do it. That will maximise your supplies."
Shuddering, Johannsen considered it. Then an awful thought came to her. As the resident geek, she knew exactly how much food and water they had left, and she also knew exactly how much power Hermes' heating system consumed. The heating would be okay, or at worst she could wrap up warm.
But...
She had to say it. "Commander...there still won't be enough, even if I subsist on short rations."
"No, there won't," Lewis agreed very quietly. "At least...not the standard rations. But with Beck, Vogel, Martinez and myself dead, and Watney still on Mars, you'll have...an extra supply. Allowing for the time it'll take for you to get used to the idea, there will be enough."
"But - but how...?"
And then it hit her. She went white.
"No," she whispered, shocked to her core.
Gently Lewis said, "You'll have no choice, Beth. With standard rations gone, your only source of food will be...us."
"I...I couldn't. I...Melissa, please, I..." She began crying.
"If it helps, think of it as your dead friends helping you to survive," Lewis said softly. "And this is only as a last, last resort, in the unlikely but still possible event that we don't pull off the rendezvous. You see, don't you, that as a responsible CO I have to plan for the worst? It's not just us - it's everyone in the Ares Program.
"You won't be doing it just for yourself, you'll be doing it for them. We all have to look at the bigger picture." Now she smiled. "And, hey, it's a contingency plan. I don't believe for an instant that we'll really need to do it. But as Lazarus Long said, Anyone who does not take the possibility of his own death into account is a fool. A self-absorbed fool who does not love anyone. Or something like that."
"Time Enough For Love," Johannsen whispered.
Lewis chuckled. "Yeah, you would know that."
Johannsen's head had been bowed as she sobbed. Now she looked up, still crying. "It's a horrible idea."
"Yes, it is. I know it's a lot to ask, Beth. But for the sake of the program and the God knows how many people working in it, I have to ask. Just in case."
"Do...do the guys know?"
"I'll tell them," Lewis nodded. "But I felt you should be told first. Seems only fair."
"But...will they agree?"
"I'm sure they will. They're all professionals. They all know this is bigger than us. So does Mark." She smiled gently. "They kid you all the time about your geek tendencies, Beth, but to a man they love you. Especially Beck," she teased, knowing of their recently-started (and mostly sexual) relationship. "They'll want you to live if they can't. I want you to live."
"I...I can't tell Mom," Johannsen murmured. "She could never deal with it. But Dad...he'll ask. Can I tell him?"
"Sure," Lewis smiled, touching her arm. She knew Johannsen was very much a daddy's girl. "Thanks, Beth."
Hermes, the Rec
Shortly after
"Mein Gott," Vogel murmured.
"Commander, that's a...horrible idea," Beck shook his head. "Ruthlessly practical, I agree, but horrible."
"I know," Lewis nodded. "But there has to be at least one survivor if things go south on us. If for some reason we don't get those supplies, we won't have a choice. Personally I would prefer a quick and easy overdose to starvation."
"Ja," Vogel conceded, "when you put it like that, Commander, it makes sense."
"Wouldn't that be a status update and a half," Martinez observed. "Imagine it: 'Houston, please be advised: the entire crew has committed suicide except for me. When the food runs out, I'll have to eat my dead friends. Watney will starve to death on Mars, I won't be able to pick him up on my own. Johannsen over and out.' Jeez." He shook his head. "So I better not get it wrong."
Lewis chuckled. "Absolute last resort, Martinez. I have every confidence in you and in the CNSA. You owned the MDV landing - how far were we off-target, nine metres? From Low Mars Orbit, yet? Easily as good as Armstrong."
Martinez also chuckled. He knew his own skill as a pilot, and so his confidence was total.
The rendezvous
And entirely justified; the manoeuvre came off without a hitch.
"Distance 61 metres, velocity 2.3 metres per second," Johanssen said. Please, God, she prayed to herself, please let this work. I don't want to have to...to...oh, God...
"No problem," Martinez said, his eyes glued to his screens. One showed the camera feed from Docking Port A, the other a constant feed of the probe's telemetry. Lewis floated behind Johanssen's and Martinez's stations.
Beck's voice came over the radio. "Visual contact. She looks good." He stood in Airlock 3 (via magnetic boots), fully suited up with the outer door open. The bulky SAFER unit on his back would allow him free motion in space should the need arise. An attached tether led to a spool on the wall.
"Vogel," Lewis said into her headset. "You in position?"
Vogel stood in the still-pressurised Airlock 2, suited up save his helmet. "Ja, in position and ready," he replied. He was the emergency EVA if Beck needed rescue.
"All right, Martinez," Lewis said. "Bring it in."
"Aye, Commander."
"Distance 43 metres, velocity 2.3 metres per second," Johanssen called out.
"All stats nominal," Martinez reported.
"Slight rotation in the probe," Johanssen said. "Relative rotational velocity is 0.05 revolutions per second."
"Anything under 0.3 is fine," Martinez said. "The capture system can deal with it."
"Probe is well within manual recovery range," Beck reported.
"Copy," Lewis said.
"Distance 22 metres, velocity 2.3 metres per second," Johanssen said. "Angle is good."
"Slowing her down a little," Martinez said, sending instructions to the probe. In response her attitude thrusters fired, reducing her closing velocity.
"Velocity 1.8...1.3..." Johanssen reported. "0.9...stable at 0.9 metres per second." The thrusters had cut out, their work done for now.
"Range?" Martinez asked.
"Twelve metres," Johanssen replied. "Velocity steady at 0.9 metres per second."
"Angle?"
"Angle is good."
"Then we're in line for auto-capture," Martinez said, intent on the probe. The telemetry gave him a precise picture, and it looked good. "Come to Papa."
The probe drifted gently to the docking port. Its capture boom, a long metal triangle, entered the port's funnel, scraping slightly along the edge. Once it reached the port's retractor mechanism, the automated system clamped on to the boom and pulled it in, aligning and orienting the probe automatically. After several loud clanks echoed through the ship, the computer reported success.
"Docking complete," Martinez said. The Chinese engineers had followed the NASA specs to perfection to make the probe compatible with Hermes.
"Seal is tight," Johanssen said. She displayed no outward sign of her immense relief, but thought, Thank you, God.
"Beck," Lewis said, "your services won't be needed."
"Roger that, Commander," Beck said. "Closing airlock."
"Vogel, return to interior," she ordered.
"Copy, Commander," he said.
"Airlock pressure to one hundred percent," Beck reported. "Re-entering ship...I'm back in."
"Also inside," Vogel said.
Lewis pressed a button on her headset. "Houst - er...Jiuquan, probe docking complete. No complications." Then, feeling more was needed, she added respectfully, "Gǎnxiè nín de bāngzhù. Nǐ gěi nǐ de zǔxiān dài láile hěn dà de róngyào."
As the archetypal geek, Johannsen ported the Commander's words (automatically recorded) into a Speech-To-Text app she'd written herself, and used Google to translate it. The words were, as she'd guessed, simplified Chinese: "Thank you for your help. You do your ancestors much honour." She smiled. Isn't that just like Melissa.
Mitch's voice came over the comm. "Glad to hear it, Hermes. Report status of all supplies once you get them aboard and inspected."
"Roger, Jiuquan," Lewis said.
Jiuquan Space Centre
Mitch frowned. "Was that Chinese?"
"Yes," his Oriental counterpart nodded, and smiled. "She thanked us for our help, and said that we do much honour to our ancestors. It is both polite and most courteous that she said this in Chinese and not in English."
"Hmm," Mitch said. "I'd no idea she even spoke any Chinese." Now he addressed the entire room, raising his voice. "But I completely echo her sentiments, as do the rest of our party. Thanks to you, we now have a real shot at rescuing Mark Watney. Thank you. Thank you all."
"Absolutely," Teddy agreed. "First-class performance." There was applause.
"Way to go!" Annie cheered. As an aside to Teddy, she quipped in a low voice, "Can I say 'fucking good job'?"
Teddy barely smiled. "Without the expletive, yes."
Annie laughed.
"Bruce," Teddy said over his mobile, "you guys at JPL can breathe again. The rendezvous went perfectly."
"Thank God," Bruce sighed, relieved and pleased.
"It worked?" Vincent asked.
"100%," Teddy answered. "I'm sure you were tracking the Taiyang Shen."
"Well, we were, but there's no substitute for on-the-spot observation," Vincent said.
"All they have to do now is rescue Watney."
"You say that like it's nothing," Vincent reproved. "533 extra days."
"It's Watney's only chance," Teddy pointed out.
Vincent could not argue that.
Rich Purnell's office, JPL
Later
Vincent knocked on the door. As rumpled as always, Rich answered it. "Hey, Rich. The rendezvous went perfectly. The Hermes is precisely following the course you worked out."
"Mmm-hmm," Rich acknowledged. "Numbers don't lie. Supercomputers like Pleiades don't make mistakes. I knew it would work. It'll work all the way to Mars and back."
Vincent smiled. "Genius can be defined as the ability to see the obvious. We should've thought of a gravity assist. Brilliant idea." He paused. "You know...at first Teddy wasn't going to go with it."
Rich looked surprised. "He wasn't? What an idiot."
"Hey, he's the boss."
"He's not my boss."
Vincent chuckled. "Guess not."
"You need anything else?"
"No, that's it. Just a heads-up."
"Oh. Good. Better get some sleep. You woke me up."
With that, Rich closed the door.
"He's already been asleep for...ten hours," Vincent shook his head as he checked the time. "The JPL guys were right. He is crazy." A line from the immortal Hitch-Hiker's Guide crossed his mind: "Well, the border between madness and genius is very narrow." He chuckled again and left.
Hermes
Immediately after the rendezvous
Taking off her headset, Lewis turned to Martinez and Johanssen. "Unload the probe and stow the supplies. I'm going to help Beck and Vogel de-suit."
Martinez and Johanssen floated down the hall toward Docking Port A. "So," he asked conversationally, "who would you have eaten first?"
She glared at him.
"'Cause I think I'd be tastiest," he continued, flexing his arm. "Look at that. Good solid muscle there."
"You're not funny."
"I'm free-range, you know. Corn-fed." She shook her head and accelerated down the hall. "Come on! I thought you liked Mexican!"
"Not listening," she called back.
Lewis smiled indulgently. Comedians, every one of them. But the best crew I've ever worked with. There are worse ways to end a career.
Near Johannsen's quarters
After Beck and Vogel have de-suited
As she was about to enter (and call her Dad to tell him that all went well), Vogel said gently, "You know Martinez was having the joke with you."
She turned to him. "It wasn't a joke to me, Alex." Then, in a reversal of mood, she giggled. "Funny - I'd have expected a crack like that from Mark. Maybe he's filling in for Mark in more ways than one!"
Both laughed.
THE END