“The mission team’s ready,” Venkat said, looking at spreadsheets on his laptop. “There was a minor turf war between the Ares 3 and Ares 4 presupply control teams. The Ares 3 guys said they should run it, because while Watney’s on Mars, Ares 3 is still in progress. The Ares 4 team points out it’s their coopted probe in the first place. I ended up going with Ares 3.”
“Did that upset Ares 4?” Teddy asked.
“Yes, but they’ll get over it. They have thirteen other presupply missions coming up. They won’t have time to be pissy.”
“Mitch,” Teddy said to the flight controller, “what about the launch?”
Mitch pulled the earpiece from his ear. “We’ve got a control room ready,” he said. “I’ll oversee the launch, then hand cruise and landing over to Venkat’s guys.”
“Media?” Teddy said, turning to Annie.
“I’m giving daily updates to the press,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “Everyone knows Watney’s fucked if this doesn’t work. The public hasn’t been this engaged in ship construction since Apollo 11. CNN’s The Watney Report has been the number one show in its time slot for the past two weeks.”
“The attention is good,” Teddy said. “It’ll help get us emergency funding from Congress.” He looked up to a man standing near the entrance. “Maurice, thanks for flying out on short notice.”
Maurice nodded.
Teddy gestured to him and addressed the room. “For those who don’t know him, this is Maurice Stein from Cape Canaveral. He was the scheduled pad leader for EagleEye 3, so he inherited the role for Iris. Sorry for the bait and switch, Maurice.”
“No problem,” said Maurice. “Glad I can help out.”
Teddy flipped the top page of his notes facedown beside the stack. “How’s the booster?”
“It’s all right for now,” said Maurice. “But it’s not ideal. EagleEye 3 was set to launch. Boosters aren’t designed to stand upright and bear the stress of gravity for long periods. We’re adding external supports that we’ll remove before launch. It’s easier than disassembly. Also the fuel is corrosive to the internal tanks, so we had to drain it. In the meantime, we’re performing inspections on all systems every three days.”
“Good, thank you,” Teddy said. He turned his attention to Bruce Ng, who stared back at him with heavy bloodshot eyes.
“Bruce, thank you for flying out, too. How’s the weather in California these days?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Bruce said. “I rarely see the outdoors.”
Subdued laughter filled the room for a few seconds.
Teddy flipped another page. “Time for the big question, Bruce. How’s Iris coming along?”
“We’re behind,” Bruce said with a tired shake of his head. “We’re going as fast as we can, but it’s just not fast enough.”
“I can find money for overtime,” Teddy offered.
“We’re already working around the clock.”
“How far behind are we talking about?” Teddy asked.
Bruce rubbed his eyes and sighed. “We’ve been at it twenty-nine days; so we only have nineteen left. After that, the Pad needs thirteen days to mount it on the booster. We’re at least two weeks behind.”
“Is that as far behind as you’re going to get?” Teddy asked, writing a note on his papers. “Or will you slip more?”
Bruce shrugged. “If we don’t have any more problems, it’ll be two weeks late. But we always have problems.”
“Give me a number,” Teddy said.
“Fifteen days,” Bruce responded. “If we had another fifteen days, I’m sure we could get it done in time.”
“All right,” Teddy said, taking another note. “Let’s create fifteen days.”
Turning his attention to the Ares 3 flight surgeon, Teddy asked, “Dr. Keller, can we reduce Watney’s food intake to make the rations last longer?”
“Sorry, but no,” Keller said. “He’s already at a minimal calorie count. In fact, considering the amount of physical labor he does, he’s eating far less than he should. And it’s only going to get worse. Soon his entire diet will be potatoes and vitamin supplements. He’s been saving protein-rich rations for later use, but he’ll still be malnourished.”
“Once he runs out of food, how long until he starves to death?” Teddy asked.
“Presuming an ample water supply, he might last three weeks. Shorter than a typical hunger strike, but remember he’ll be malnourished and thin to begin with.”
Venkat raised a hand and caught their attention. “Remember, Iris is a tumbler; he might have to drive a few days to get it. And I’m guessing it’s hard to control a rover when you’re literally starving to death.”
“He’s right,” Dr. Keller confirmed. “Within four days of running out of food, he’ll barely be able to stand up, let alone control a rover. Plus, his mental faculties will rapidly decline. He’d have a hard time even staying awake.”
“So the landing date’s firm,” Teddy said. “Maurice, can you get Iris on the booster in less than thirteen days?”
Maurice leaned against the wall and pinched his chin. “Well… it only takes three days to actually mount it. The following ten are for testing and inspections.”
“How much can you reduce those?”
“With enough overtime, I could get the mounting down to two days. That includes transport from Pasadena to Cape Canaveral. But the inspections can’t be shortened. They’re time-based. We do checks and rechecks with set intervals between them to see if something deforms or warps. If you shorten the intervals, you invalidate the inspections.”
“How often do those inspections reveal a problem?” Teddy asked.
A silence fell over the room.
“Uh,” Maurice stammered. “Are you suggesting we don’t do the inspections?”
“No,” said Teddy. “Right now I’m asking how often they reveal a problem.”
“About one in twenty launches.”
Teddy wrote that down. “And how often is the problem they find something that would have caused a mission failure?”
“I’m, uh, not sure. Maybe half the time?”
He wrote that down as well. “So if we skip inspections and testing, we have a one in forty chance of mission failure?” Teddy asked.
“That’s two point five percent,” Venkat said, stepping in. “Normally, that’s grounds for a countdown halt. We can’t take a chance like that.”
“‘Normally’ was a long time ago,” Teddy said. “Ninety-seven point five percent is better than zero. Can anyone think of a safer way to get more time?”
He scanned the room. Blank faces stared back.
“All right, then,” he said, circling something on his notes. “Speeding up the mounting process and skipping inspections buys us eleven days. If Bruce can pull a rabbit out of a hat and get done sooner, Maurice can do some inspections.”
“What about the other four days?” Venkat asked.
“I’m sure Watney can stretch the food to last four extra days, malnutrition notwithstanding,” Teddy said, looking to Dr. Keller.
“I—” Keller started. “I can’t recommend—”
“Hang on,” Teddy interrupted. He stood and straightened his blazer. “Everyone, I understand your positions. We have procedures. Skipping those procedures means risk. Risk means trouble for your department. But now isn’t the time to cover our asses. We have to take risks or Mark Watney dies.”
Turning to Keller, he said, “Make the food last another four days.”
Keller nodded.
“RICH,” said Mike.
Rich Purnell concentrated on his computer screen. His cubicle was a landfill of printouts, charts, and reference books. Empty coffee cups rested on every surface; take-out packaging littered the ground.
“Rich,” Mike said, more forcefully.