In the meantime, across the Mars First compound, in a quiet area only guarded by a skeleton crew that night, two employees were busy making their way along a small corridor to a restricted area. After reaching one of the labs, one of the two men entered a series of numbers on the pad, and the door opened with a light “click!” They carefully skittered along the walls, making sure not to be noticed by the security cameras, and finally entered a chamber with walls as white as snow filled with delicate machines and rocket parts. Hiding behind a large container, the taller of the two men aimed a device at the three cameras in the room and “froze” their picture one by one, while the other approached a large turbine. After removing a small cover from the side of the engine, he pulled a very small disc out from his pocket and placed the object under a row of electrical wires, before closing the cover back.
“Ok, done,” he whispered. The tall man pressed the remote again while facing each camera, and the two men exited the room and quickly disappeared back down the dark corridor.
A few minutes later, one of them was making a call on his cell.
“Did you get the codes?”
“Yes. He didn’t suspect anything. What about you? Did you do it?” asked a woman’s voice at the other end of the line.
“Yes, it’s done.”
“Good,” said Gina before hanging up.
The tiny device the men had just managed to hide would never be found before Mars First 3 departure, and they would use the access codes Gina Glenver had managed to steal from Lars to render Mars First’s remote access to the ship’s computers inoperable. The consequences would be devastating.
The next morning, Lars was surprised to find himself alone in his Amersfoort apartment when he woke up. Gina had left a simple note on the kitchen table, “Thanks for everything.”
MF3
Six days later, the crowds outside the launch area at the Guiana Space Centre in Kourou, French Guiana, was nothing compared to the number of viewers around the world glued to their TV sets to see the departure of MF3, the third manned ship to be sent to the red planet. The Mars First reality show, Mars First Now, and its constant coverage of the astronaut training since the mid 2010’s, was greatly responsible for the public’s interest. The team members of MF3, Italian commander Antonio Bardino, Swedish medical officer Ebba Andreasson, Danish mission specialist Jessie Bruun and Australian geologist Daniel Patel, had become celebrities, just as had all the others before them. However, the estimated ninety million viewers worldwide for today’s launch paled in comparison to the 800 million who had watched the departure of MF1, almost exactly nine years earlier. The Mars First project had gained a great deal of notoriety at the end of that year, with an estimated two billion watching the historical landing on the red planet. This third mission had already become old news to some. Just like the first manned missions to the Moon, nothing had ever compared to the first landing. And by now, to those in a rapidly growing world, full of responsibilities and restrictions, Mars didn’t sound quite as fascinating as it once had.
For the four astronauts who had just spent the last twenty years training for this mission, however, the moment was grand, and they were now waiting anxiously in their seat for the green light to leave Earth and rejoin with their Martian colleagues. This launching was going to be the most important day of their lives, at least until their subsequent landing on the red planet six months later. That one would be the grand mother of all prizes.
“Nervous, Bruun?” asked Daniel Patel, the mission’s geologist seated behind her.
“Nope. Just impatient to be on our way.”
“I’m nervous,” offered Ebba Andreasson, seated next to Daniel. “I don’t mind saying it. In a few minutes, we’re going to soar into space and I’m anxious. I know it’s gonna be beautiful once we’re above Earth and look down, but I would lie if I said I wasn’t a bit nervous.”
“OK, I’ll admit, I am too. But I’m mostly excited. We’ve been waiting for this for so long…” admitted Jessie Bruun.
“Personally, I’m too excited to be nervous,” volunteered Antonio Bardino, the ship’s commander.
Back at the Kourou spaceport, the launch director was looking at several reports in his hands. “What’s the status on the crew?”
“Everyone is loaded in and secured, sir. And commander Bardino told me to let you know the sooner they leave, the sooner he will be able to send you a postcard from Mars.” replied a man.
The director cracked a smile. “Ok, thanks.”
“Alright, people, this is it. Let’s do a complete check of all stations, please.”
“Navigation?”
“We’re go.”
“LAS?”
“Go.”
“PRS?”
“PRS is a go.”
“CAPCOM?”
“We’re go,” replies Dr. Kovachev who had been brought in two days earlier to oversee the capsule’s progress on this historical flight.
The flight director went on.
“System Module?”
“Go!”
“ART?”
A few seconds passed.
“ART? Are you a go?”
A few more seconds…
“ART is a go.”
“Thank you, ART. Launch is a go, people.”
Dr. Kovachev, who was looking at the giant screen on the wall in front of him displaying the countdown in large numbers, turned around to face the engineers in the room and said, “OK, people. Let’s go to Mars!”
Back in the MF3 capsule, Jessie Bruun wondered if her defunct parents were watching from beyond, proud of her.
Less than a minute later…
“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, engine ignition, separation, and lift off!” said a clear voice through the crackling speakers.
A few miles from the ship’s launching pad, the spectators suddenly saw the immense cloud of white smoke forming under the MF3 spaceship, followed seconds later by the tremendous roar of the engines. And as all watched in awe the vessel rise and quickly gain altitude and speed, the impressive white tail of smoke caused by the huge consumption of fuel engulfed most of the clear blue sky below. Like a bright shooting star reclaiming its place in the dark night above, the blinding brightness of the ship’s burning rockets, pushing through Earth’s atmosphere with incredible force, soon disappeared into the darkness of the upper stratosphere.
Back on the ground, “Tanks separation in three, two, one, tanks have detached.”
“MF3 engine burn in three, two, one, engine burn!”
“System check?” asked Dr. Ivaylo Kovachev.
“All systems green, sir,” replied a man in front of a screen.
“People, we’re on our way to Mars!” said the launch director loudly, a huge smile on his face. The entire room erupted in applauses and cheers.
MF3 was bound for the ISS, the International Space Station, the ship’s last stop before the long trip to Mars.
Chapter V
Red lights