Holt radioed orders for corrective maneuvers to return the nine stragglers to Ziolkowsky's track.
Extreme concern for economy of propellants might have dictated that closing up the convoy should be conducted so that the ships would be in close formation only when near Mars, but Holt had his reasons for reassembling them without delay. He felt that a few thousand kilograms of propellants would be well expended in keeping the ships near enough so that in case of damage mutual help would be at hand in a minimum of time. So the ships started their steering rockets and maneuvered themselves towards Ziolkowsky.
Within ten days no more than ten miles separated them.
By now, the Earth was some one and one half million kilometers distant and appeared about as large as the Moon does to Earth dwellers. She reminded the observers of the waxing half-Moon, due to her right half alone being illuminated by the Sun. But that half shone more brightly than ever the Moon, so brightly indeed that no contrasts upon it could be distinguished with the naked eye.
Some distance from the Earth, they could see a luminous disclet of about one quarter Earth's diameter. This was the Moon itself, faithfully following Earth on her path around the Sun.
The sight brought the men of Operation Mars to full appreciation of the significance of their departure into the planetary world; they could see Earth and her companion actually submerging in the depths of space. Glances at the spectacle filled them with a kind of humble pride at their privilege of being the first to witness it.
Not long after the maneuver, a stiff watch list and work program was instituted in order to accustom the men to the even and uninterrupted passage of time. Since there was no natural sequence of day and night, the good old military principle of invoking authority to determine which was which went into effect. At exactly 2000, expedition time, blinds were pulled over all ports except those of the pilot's cabin and astrodomes, to be opened only at 0700.
Meals, of course, were served on the dot. Weightlessness even proved a problem for the old Space Force veterans when it came to eating. Sinus trips had been so short that there had never been a question of more than an odd sandwich or so, while aboard Lunetta the synthetic gravity had brought the business of food down to Earth, so to speak. The consumption of a full meal under weightless conditions was an exciting novelty for almost everyone.
Food was served in pannikins with spring-loaded covers and no knives were used.
Edibles requiring cutting were chopped up in the kitchen. Nor were there forks or spoons.
The interstellar voyagers reached cautiously underneath the covers of their pannikins with tong-like devices to prevent the whole meal from floating unsupported before them.
Soups and other fluids required even more inventive treatment, being served in flexible containers with nipples not unlike those used for infants. By taking the nipple in the mouth and squeezing the container, the fluid could be expressed and sucked to a point where the muscles of the esophagus could begin their work. Nothing could be poured as it could when gravitation exerts its helpful influence.
At 2000 every day, each crew would assemble to listen to a radio broadcast from Earth, perhaps the most welcome event of the 24 hours.
Oberth had a receiver which caught a special program for them from the High-Duty radio set near Lunetta which Lussigny had spent two years developing and assembling to assure communication between the expedition and the Earth. This was then rebroadcast by Oberth on the intership frequency. It usually brought news, a lecture or so, and music; although from time to time, some regular American program was retransmitted. The Mars crews might hear of hostilities of a minor nature between Hindus and Moslems flickering and dying, or even reports of their own doings. When a "commercial" would emphasize the availability of some new toothpaste in the drugstore just around the corner, roars of laughter would go up over the assertions concerning just how essential to civilized existence such products had become.
The scientists kept themselves busy with studies and writings on their own specialties, and the captains, navigators and engineers relieved one another on watch. The main duty of such a watch while coasting unpowered through space was to keep all the auxiliary machinery operating at highest efficiency, and to see that no part of the complicated installation suffered from neglect.
This called for rather more activity than appeared superficially. One important item was the temperature of the propellants. Each passenger ship had four tanks for each maneuver except the last, for which there were but two. In addition, there were the four reserve containers. It had proved necessary to distribute the propellant over so many tanks to establish a proper symmetry of masses during each maneuver.
Temperatures in the 18 tanks were kept constant by thermostats operating the reflecting Venetian blinds. The angular attitudes of the ships tended to vary considerably by movements of the personnel within, so that the inner tanks were shaded by the outer ones in very irregular fashion. Early design studies had showed that certain attitudes of the vessels would permit supercooling of the inner tanks, because in such attitudes, no sunlight could reach them. Hence, from time to time the watch keeper had to start the flywheels and move the vessel out of the "prohibited" attitude.
Then there was the air conditioning system. Although temperatures, humidities, pressures and oxygen content were automatically regulated, there were tests to be made and regularly logged. An ingenious device constantly showed the ratio between the flows of treated and untreated air. It would reveal immediately whether there was any tiny escape of the precious respiration gas into the great void outside.
Temperatures of water and oxygen storage tanks had to be read and recorded, as also were those of the food storage.
The electrical power supply required the most constant supervision. It was the heart of the whole complicated system of annunciators, remote-reading gauges and such which kept the man on watch informed on the condition of the entire vessel. It further worked the various automatic regulators which alone permitted the involved system to maintain the life within it. Electricity fed the gauges and the instrumentation, and turned the temperature-controlling blinds to their appropriate angles. Above all, it whirled the pumps and blowers which fed air to the lungs of those few lonesome humans far into the reaches of airless sky. Should the mercury vapor turbine halt, it would be but a few hours before the batteries' exhaustion would bring the life-giving air circulation to a stop.
Should the current supply fail, the watch keeper would sound the general alarm and awaken the crew. Then he would radio one of the cargo ships for a power bee whose powerful accumulators would keep the blowers and pumps running while repairs were made by the damage control party called in for assistance from other ships.
Two weeks from the day of departure, John Wiegard began a series of monthly inspections. From ship to ship he went in his busy bee, accompanied by three crewmen specially trained by United Spacecraft in troubleshooting and damage control techniques.
No detail of the involved structure or machinery escaped his eagle eye and the prying hands of his assistants. Generally he would spend up to three days on each vessel. His three minions, together with the engineer of the ship and John himself would don space suits and climb out to the propulsion feed pumps at their station between the rocket motor and the huge tanks. Here his electrician began to pull plugs and seek scorched contracts or cracked plug bodies which had been allowed to overcool. His plumber might check tubing for hairline cracks caused by excessive heat stresses or the long vibrating of the initial maneuver. His tank expert would search for punctures with a magnifying glass. He would patch the tiniest rift such as was occasionally caused by meteoric dust, lest the self-sealing tank lining fail to plug it. John himself, with the help of the ship's engineer, might lift the turbine cover of the great 5,000 hp pump and perhaps decide to replace a wiped bushing.