Brandon Morris - The Enceladus Mission - Hard Science Fiction

“Say hi to Enceladus for me,” Devendra said at the end. Martin still shivered whenever he heard that name, one of Saturn’s moons. I am no discoverer; I am not even an astronaut.

“We do not hire astronauts, Mr. Neumaier, we create them.”

The words from the interview replayed through Martin’s mind. He had resisted, of course, when he was asked to replace his injured colleague on board Valkyrie . His knowledge of the system, his cool-headed behavior, his ability to concentrate even without sleep—these had all been noted when NASA investigated this incident.

“Now you tell me yourself how the mission would have ended if the communication between you and the ship would have occurred with a lag of several hours?”

Martin realized why the planners of the Enceladus mission were frightened—the crew was basically cut off from any external help. An exchange of questions and answers would take hours due to the enormous distance. In that aspect, unmanned missions had been no different, but they also had been not nearly as complex. Now they would need all skills right there, not 1.2 billion kilometers away. Unfortunately, space on board was limited, and they could not send more than six astronauts on this long trip.

Martin could not quite explain it, but he eventually gave in. He forced the planners to make one promise, though; he would not have to go on board Valkyrie . The very idea of being surrounded by darkness while knowing there were kilometers of ice above his head frightened him. He would stay aboard the mothership. He could control the drill vehicle from his orbit around Enceladus as well as he had done from his workstation at the camp in Antarctica.

Goodbye California and West Coast , Martin anticipated . Three days later, he was picked up by a black limo. JPL in Pasadena was only responsible for unmanned missions. The car was parked by the cafeteria, between Buildings 180 and 264. Nearby was a military airfield where a small twin-engine plane waited for him. Five hours later he landed in Houston, Texas, where another limo was waiting for him. The man who had greeted him at the arrival gate now sat beside him in the rear of the limo.

“Space City,” he said.

“Confirmed,” the female voice of the car’s AI replied. The limo started.

The man turned toward Martin. “I’d like to welcome you as a guest of the Astronaut Corps.” He shook Martin’s hand and then said, “I am Chief Astronaut Dave Willinger.”

He had heard this name before. Willinger had made a name for himself during a Mars mission. Martin had not known that Willinger had since become Chief of the Astronaut Corps. It’s probably a boring office job rather than a real promotion, Martin presumed. I would gladly trade places with him. He introduced himself as well, though his host certainly must have known who he was.

“Martin Neumaier, JPL contractor. Former contractor, that is.”

Willinger uttered a raucous laugh.

“Yes, your status is rather hard to define. But since you are already here… we will have to skip basic training anyway. And I am sure you already know how to dive and how to pilot a plane.” He nudged Martin with his elbow. Everything is going to be easy, he meant. I am just an astronaut like you, Martin thought.

“For this reason, you are now our official guest. This has the advantage that we don’t have to pay you, and if something happens to you, it will not be our fault.”

He uttered the same raucous laugh, and Martin winced internally. I don’t know if I’m going to like this man. He’s a bit annoying. Martin glanced outside. The limo was driving through a seemingly endless suburb.

“Yes, it will take a little while longer. Space City is located a bit outside of Houston. I thought we could use the opportunity to talk about the plans for the coming months.”

“Good idea.” So far, Martin knew nothing except that the mission was supposed to start in three months.

“Your arrival here is seen as a kind of an unusual career change. I think that might be a problem, but what I think doesn’t matter.”

So things aren’t going to be easy after all? Martin nodded to himself . It would be an enormous understatement to call my recruitment merely problematic.

“We will at least have to turn you into an astronaut. For that purpose we have designed a greatly shortened basic training, three weeks instead of twelve months. Afterward, you are officially an Astronaut Candidate or ASCAN, as we call them. Don’t worry, you cannot fail unless you fall and break some bones. In that case …”

Martin thought, I wonder if I can laugh and sound like Willinger, too.

“However, there will be little danger of that, as you are going to spend most of your time in the classroom. The next step will be Advanced Training. We moved the diving course from basic training to this section. We will test how you handle extreme acceleration, low air pressure, darkness, and zero gravity. This segment also includes survival training. Afterward, you will familiarize yourself with the modules of your spacecraft. You already have some experience with Valkyrie , though you have never been inside one, have you?”

Martin shook his head. “And I never will be.”

“I don’t know about that. It is certainly an exciting machine. I am not familiar with it either, so it looks like we’re going to test it together. I am personally responsible for you.”

During Advanced Training, each ASCAN was assigned to an experienced astronaut. Willinger gave him a questioning look.

“This is an honor for me, sir,” Martin said. This seemed to Martin to be a suitable reaction in this case—and he was right. Willinger’s eyes lit up. In the long run, the desk job is probably not good for his ego, Martin concluded.

“Your colleagues are all a bit ahead of you, but I think you should catch up with them in a little under two months if you train as intensively as I expect you to. You will have to, because then you are going up to Tiangong-4.”

Willinger was referring to the Chinese space station. After the demise of ISS-NG, the Russians, Europeans, and Americans had not managed to agree on a new International Space Station. Since then, the Chinese station had become a kind of meeting point for all spacefaring nations. At first, the Chinese had invited astronauts from India, Indonesia, and Brazil. Finally, the former ISS nations had bought certain landing rights by paying for their own Tiangong modules.

“I’m looking forward to it.” I hope that sounded OK. Martin was afraid this sentence would sound sarcastic. If it did, Willinger did not seem to notice.

“We’re actually almost there, so you might want to put your shoes on,” the chief astronaut said with a laugh. Martin looked out the window. They were driving past a windowless three-story building, then a conventional office building with five floors. It had a large parking lot surrounding it. Nothing so far looked in any way futuristic. Rockets ready for launch, fire, and smoke—none of that was here. Houston was no spaceport, after all, but only the center for manned missions. The limo turned left onto a narrow street bordered by parking spaces and leading to a plain eight-story building. Right in front of it was a parking spot marked with the large yellow letters, “VIP.”

“Johnson Space Center, Administration,” the car announced. The doors swung open.

“Do I have an apartment here? I’ve got a few things I would like to have sent here.” Martin had to hurry to keep pace with Willinger, who was striding toward the entrance of the building.