Don didn't relish the long trip in the Mars Transfer Vehicle. Every element, every cubic centimetre, was labelled and specified. He would get his pick of cabins, but the joke was on him of course, because all four were identical, and little more than a comfortable coffin. His had enough drawer space to keep his handheld computer in, and a handkerchief-sized magnetic pinboard, and little else, not even a viewport. The one thought that kept him from seeing this as a nightmare ordeal was their destination. If he could just make it to Mars, he would surely be happy. In fact the very fact that they had actually launched, after the long drag of preparation and training, was buoying him up.
First he pulled himself fully through the constricted hatch space and turned from a head-first position to an orientation that would be standing, if there were gravity. He had seen the seasoned astronauts on the Bigelow do this, and he thought there must be a reason for it. He could more easily grapple the walls and floors this way, and didn't have to bend his neck up to see forwards, like he would in the Superman pose. But head-first still seemed best for movement from place to place.
By the time he had worked this out, he was drifting halfway across the exercise and medical area. There was the main exercise machine with its straps and treadmill; while up on the walls were some extra strain devices.
The others emerged from the hatch one by one. Out of an instinct for distancing himself from the claustrophobic cabin of the lander, and perhaps from the presence of the others, Don pulled himself through the next hatch and into the common room, or the lounge, as he preferred to call it. This was the only section with viewports – three tiny apologies for windows about ten inches square. They wouldn't be any use for astronomy, he knew that. From this area they would also monitor the whole ship's operational status and consumables at a workstation boasting two thirty-two-inch screens. The Naqsh also was fitted with a compact Schmidt-Cassegrain telescope, and he intended to push it to its limits from this very console. Many of his colleagues at Washington envied him intensely for this eight-month 'research cruise', as some of them had named the trip to Mars. But his options for research were limited. Annika was set to lead the bio-medical research.
He heard Asya already dogging the hatch to the lander closed. They wouldn't need to be in there much over the next eight months. Then she called them together in the lounge for a team conference. The volume seemed cramped with limbs and faces when they all crowded in. As she outlined the procedures that they already knew regarding the fuel transfer, the MTV systems check and the TMI burn prep, he began to feel a little nauseous. The walls were beginning to squeeze in on him. Or were they about to burst apart from the air pressure? Either way, there was no way out now. He had been deep down inside the Earth, exploring supercaves, and had dived to the sea bed with an aqualung, but had never felt this.
He glanced at Marco to see if he looked nervous too. He caught the Brazilian directing a concerned look back at him. Do I look that worried? He took a breath and tried to smooth his face out. He mustn't crack.
He had faced this same claustrophobia before in training, several times. He told himself it was just an illusion, just a feeling, and gradually the panic passed and he could focus again on the briefing. He had beaten it – for now. Marco looked away. But had Asya noticed? Annika? He hated the thought of their condescension. No, they were totally into the procedures.
He just had to hang on, and on, and on, for eight months, until they could get out of this thing and build a new home. They would have the whole planet to themselves! Plenty of room. And there would be all the research he could possibly do, enough to fill a hundred lifetimes. Perhaps Julia's crew would still be alive, somehow. They were all resilient, resourceful people. And even if they weren't, at least the crew of the Jamal could uncover whatever mistakes had led to their deaths, and learn.
It was important to learn if they wanted to survive. He knew one thing about Mars: It was in many ways a hostile planet.
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