24 Billion and counting

Chapter 10 Too close a call

I was woken by a warm pepperminty toothpaste kiss. Becky was standing over me smiling, with a hot cup of coffee, which smelt slightly off. I recalled her immaculate elegance in the cream gown on my birthday. Now her hair was dishevelled, and the standard issue undergarments for the space suit, a floppy tee shirt and shapeless pants built to hold the nappy, did her neat figure no favours, but she was beautiful.

The other two were asleep. We talked quietly.

"Everything's OK, love," she said. "Beta says the station is fully operational, and the medical checks on us are OK. We're tired and suffering from the gravity. We've got oxygen and regeneration chemicals and water for four days in here, and twelve service packs for the suits. There's a limited choice to eat but we won't starve. Standard nutrient packs and soup."

"Hmm. Ugh. This stuff's horrible. What is it?"

"Vitamin and mineral supplemented coffee. You drink this and unless you're down on fibre and energy you don't need any more till mid-morning."

"You mean it's so vile it kills the will to eat."

We smiled together and I kissed her knee which was nearest to me. She caressed my face.

"We could do with a bit of privacy," she said.

"There's hard work and ingenuity needed before we get any. Let's get the show on the road. I don't see why we should be the only ones to suffer. Give Georgy and Malo some of that rot-gut too."

None of us were grumblers. You couldn't go through the training and the three year construction programme without either having it knocked out of you, or being cut out of the team. But that morning we found aches and pains everywhere. Despite our exercise routines our muscles and joints were unprepared for the unremitting pressure of gravity, albeit on Mars it was barely over a third of that of Earth. We were having problems with near blackouts, swelling feet, and pins and needles. The members of a team of fit athletes that had met the President in a fairly straight line in Fritz's smarty pants uniforms so long ago, now looked like scruffy entrants to a doctor's waiting room.

I said, "Georgy we've got to get to grips with how we feel. We're not going to get out of this if we're suffering like unfit octagenarians."

"Well, guys and gals, I'm afraid the only thing I have to offer is exercise."

We groaned. For a quarter of an hour Georgy took us through a set of exercises designed to get the heart muscle pumping and the circulation going in the right directions. She was good. We felt weary but less vulnerable.

Then we sat unstripping the packaging from anonymous tasting biscuity things, still under Georgy's instruction doing arm and finger and neck exercises.

"What's the plan Lewis?" said Malo.

I smiled, "I was dreading that. We'll have to make one of our own. As I see it we've drifted so far away from the mission plan that it is materially compromised."

"You mean it's fucked."

"Come on Malo bear up. We won't get through this unless we try."

"Sorry, Lewis. Mornings are bad for me. This one's a real no-no."

"OK, enough said. Objective one was to get the bubble up. That's accomplished. Objective two was to lay the materials for the 32kv pilot transmission line between the reactor module and Mitch, to get that up and running as our first home. We have achieved one fifth of that. Objective three was to get the reactor up and running and Beta did that for us once we'd got her connected. Unfortunately due to the problems of the jeep we can't get back to the trailer unless we can recharge the jeep batteries, and the jeep's 500 metres away from this power source.