Space: 2049

Space: 2049

Jon awoke with the sensation of a breeze brushing against his bare forearms.  It was an unusual feeling since the sleep pods were extremely climate controlled.  There was no wind here.  He was at least a million miles from the nearest natural breeze.  Jon was a member of the first Agri-Mining expedition to Mars.  Since subterranean water had been discovered on Mars, establishing an outpost had become a high priority.  NASA had become a relic of the past, but with discovery of Martian water by a private space agency, congress has refunded NASA and a new global space race had ensued.  But what was the source of the breeze.  Suddenly Jon remembered.  “George, would you watch it.  Your sleep pod is too close for you to be having those whopper sized f**ts”.  The smell came moments after the original breeze of gas.  “That’s more than the climate control system can handle!”

            George’s pod was only inches from Jon’s.  Space travel seemed glamorous to civilians, but the attraction quickly wore off when stuffed in a tin can like a sardine.  

            It was time for Jon’s shift anyhow, and he needed time for the odor to dissipate.  On the command deck things were not any better.  Captain Derrick Brown was strapped in his command chair and was so involved in the information system that he barely noticed Jon’s presence.  Finally, when Jon took a position immediately across from the captain, he responded.  “Jon, we have a problem-- a big problem.”

Jon now could see the concern on Derrick’s face.  “How big a problem do we have?

“The problem is big enough that we may not be able to initiate the landing thrusters for the base.  That’s bad enough, but without those boosters, we won’t be able to re-enter a course back to earth.  We have enough fuel in the thrusters for either the Martian landing or to regain an Earthward course.  The problem is that we need to start a controlled burn-- A catalyst to start those engines.  It’s like starting an ancient propeller driven aircraft.  Someone had to turn the prop to get the engine running.  We need fuel to start the reactions needed to get the thrusters in action.  That fuel is hydrogen.  Hydrogen is plentiful on earth, but a rare commodity here in space and the hydrogen tanks are dry.”  

Jon was astounded.  “How could we be out of hydrogen.  We had ample—more than ample on the last check.”

Captain Brown’s face had a new glum appearance.  “Apparently a valve was left in a wrong position and leaked. The sensors should have warned us, but they failed.  The safety board was all green, but there was still a leak. It was also a human error.  It was my responsibility and it’s my fault.  The valve locked in the closed position, but was not quite completely closed.  It was stuck and I thought it was fully closed.  Clearly it wasn’t.”

“What do we do?”

“Either we figure out how to start the thrusters, or the next Martian crew here in, Oh, about three years, can dispose of our mummified remains.” 

Captain Brown made the awkward communication with Houston.  “Houston, we have a problem.”  It was not the news that ground control wanted to hear and to make matters worse, it took thirty minutes just to get a message back.  The gist of the return message was that you guys are on your own.  Basically, a refined way of saying—You got yourself in this mess, now get yourself out.

At that moment a groggy George appeared in the command section.  He had been awakened by the tumult of the Captain and Jon and could not rest. 

 The crew was placed on a low maintenance protocol.  Jon returned to his sleep pod and applied a dermal patch which was designed to place him in a low metabolic state, like a fish in icy winter water with lowered pulse and body temp.  The events were certainly momentous, but he had no control of his fate.

New York Times article, July 27,2049:

            “New Problem Plagues Martian Agri-Mining Mission”

            Great hopes were in place for the Martian farming and

 mining mission.  It is expected to be a crucial step in the

 exploration of the outer solar system as well as further

space.  A new problem has arisen and the Martian Outpost

is in danger.  It may not be able to land on the Martian 

surface and there are doubts that it can even return to

Earth.

            Meanwhile, aboard the Argi-Mining probe things were no better.  In spite of being in a static state, Jon was dreaming.  He was not supposed to dream in such a state, but he clearly was dreaming of his post-adolescent college days.  He and his dorm-mates were having a usual late evening bulls**t session, just like college students on every campus in the nation.

They were sharing a contraband six-pack of weak beer and tales of just how gross college students could be.  One of Jon’s buddies let fly a loud and smelly f**t.  Soon a contest developed over who was loudest and grossest.  After a round of f**ts, a Bic lighter was produced.  The next entrant had the lighter clicked near the seat of his jeans.  Flames shot and extended feet from the initiator of the eruption.

            In spite of his stasis patch, Jon awoke with a start.  He sprinted to the command section and confronted Captain Brown. “I have an idea.  It may not be a great idea and it certainly not scientific, but it may help.”  

            The facility on board a space craft is not like an Earth-bound toilet.  In microgravity a toilet becomes a highly engineered complex system.  Jon’s idea was to collect methane gas from human expulsion and use it to start the thrusters.  Some engineering and exotic plumbing was done to jury-rig the system and collect flammable gas and compress it into a tank, rather than expelling it into the vacuum of space.  

While this was being accomplished, the crew was invited to have a meal of beans.  Fortunately, their mission was to establish a farming colony in addition to mining, so there was no lack of beans available.   All sorts of beans were eaten to good effect.  The plumbing adjustments had just been completed, when the first of the crew, Jon, exhibited the uncomfortable mid-body distension of abdominal fermentation.

            As Jon settled down into the toilet saddle, he felt the low-pressure vacuum as usual, but then the let go with a huge prolonged expulsion of gas. At that moment he heard a faint whining of a pump and he knew that his production was not in vain.  He finished his business and as he exited the facility, he passed three other crew mates eager to contribute. Soon, all ten crew had done their duty.

            When Jon returned to the command bridge, there was a definite odor permeating the area, but Captain Brown was smiling.

            Testing the new source of gas was successful.  It was flammable enough and plentiful enough to ignite the thrusters.

                        New York Times July 29, 2049

                        Eighty years after Neil Armstrong first set foot on the

moon, our new generation of space explorers have

taken a brave step to enable exploration of the outer

 solar system and indeed, eventually deep space.   The

probe successfully landed on Martian soil.  A severe

problem with the landing thrusters was

 averted due to the ingenuity of Commander Jon

Pilgrim and a great debt of gratitude is owed to him

for solving an almost insurmountable engineering

problem.

Six months later, the first vegetables, so necessary to the success of the Agri-Mining mission were harvested.  There were abundant root vegetables including potatoes, carrots, radishes and parsnips.  Kale, chard and peppery endive greens were grown in sheltered areas.  The only planting that was scarce was beans.  They would have to wait for the next growing season.