Pluto's Ghost- Encounter Edition

by B. C. CHASE

  “How big is Pluto?” I ask.

  Katia says, “Seventy percent the size of the moon.”

  “And how big is the moon?”

  Katia says, “A fourth the size of the Earth.”

  “And how big is the thing Martin Babcock discovered, what is it called?”

  “Eris,” volunteers Nari. “It’s thirty percent larger by mass, but its diameter is a little smaller than Pluto’s, so if they were side-by-side, you’d think Pluto was bigger.”

  “Let me get this straight,” I say. “This Martin Babcock, he wanted to discover the tenth planet. And he did discover the tenth planet, but he also realized that it was only one of many other planets out there, according to the idea of what a planet was at the time.”

  “Yes.”

  “And he thought to himself, ‘I don’t want anyone else to discover the eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, hundredth and so forth planets. My name won’t go in the record books. Nobody will remember who I am.’ So he decided that none of the other things should be considered planets, which meant his name would go down in history as the man who discovered the tenth planet and then selflessly changed the definition of what it means to be a planet forever. Do I have that right?”

  Commander Tomlinson says, “No. I think you’re missing the point. There was no definition for what it means to be a planet. The IAU finally defined it, and Pluto happened to be discarded.”

  “Pluto was discarded, as was the chance that any other planet in the solar system be discovered. Ever. Am I right?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “So, mission accomplished for Martin Babcock.”

  Shiro says, “Martin was the biggest driving force for the IAU’s decision, it is true.”

  Commander Tomlinson says, “But that was because he realized the word ‘planet’ was such an emotional concept and needed to be properly defined.”

  I smile. “So he told all the other astronomers that he knew better what a planet is than anyone else and that they couldn’t play in the play yard anymore. Sounds like a pretty clever son of a gun.”

  “Martin Babcock is a genius,” says Commander Tomlinson. “He’s an astronomer, but he wrote software in order to help him find new objects.” He grins, “And I hate to say it but I think this conversation is a little over your head, Old-Timer.”

  I say, “You’re telling me there is no other astronomer who disagrees with Martin Babcock’s definition of a planet?”

  Tim snickers, “The New Horizons team certainly does.”

  I say, “Forgive my ignorance, but who is the New Horizons team?”

  “New Horizons is the probe that flew by Pluto and gave us our first closeup look. Alan Stern, the head of the team that launched New Horizons, has pointed out the fact that Neptune hasn’t even ‘cleared its orbit’ because Pluto occupies Neptune’s orbit. The IAU neglected to define exactly what ‘clearing the orbit’ technically means. There was a study that reviewed scientific papers from two hundred years ago until now and found that only one mention has ever been made of the orbit-clearing requirement. Science has apparently always assumed things to be planets which are rounded by their own gravity and are not stars. There are plenty of gigantic, round bodies out there which don’t orbit stars; in fact, some would say there are more of those than planets that do orbit stars."

  Commander Tomlinson questions, “What are you trying to say, Shiro?”

  “I’m saying that there is reason to debate the IAU’s redefinition of a planet.”

  There is a pause. “So…what does it look like?” I ask. “Pluto, I mean?”

  Katia says, “Well, it has mountains, valleys, gorges, glaciers, and plains. It’s even still alive. Some of the terrain is young. It has an atmosphere. It has five moons.”

  “Sounds like a planet to me,” I say, folding my arms.

  “You should submit your analysis to the IAU,” Commander Tomlinson smirks. “I’m sure they’d welcome the conclusion of a truck driver from Wichita over the opinion of someone who dedicated his life to astronomy and achieved more than anyone has since the 1930’s.”

  Thirteen

  It has been eight days since we left Earth. We are streaking across the vast, cold, silent sphere of space faster than a speeding bullet. Our distance from Earth is so great that our home is only a bright dot in the sky, barely brighter than Jupiter.

  I might dislike it, but I’m not totally classical-music-deaf. I know some of the old greats. Much to my chagrin, I’m getting an unwanted refresher course because musical selections for the mornings have included Mozart, Wagner, a bunch of other classical pieces that I have no idea what they were, and some European electronic dance music that made me want to shoot myself.

  Commander Sykes has helped me learn most of the things I have to do to keep all the filters changed and sanitized. Commander Tomlinson has made room in today’s flight plan for Commander Sykes’ spacewalk. We all agree that he should not use the robotic arm, given its disastrous performance last time, so he will have to pull himself along the rails.

  Commander Tomlinson asks Kurt, “Do you think you can handle the SAFER checkout this time, or should I take you off the flight plan for that?”

  Defensively, Kurt replies, “I can do it.”

  “Please follow the procedures,” says Commander Tomlinson. “If there is something wrong with it, we want to know before Eric gets out there.”

  “Yes, sir,” says Kurt, irritably. “Which SAFER do you want him to use?”

  “Whichever one is safer,” Commander Tomlinson says with a grin.

  Commander Sykes is all suited up with his helmet on and is ready to leave. Just as he is about to clear the outermost crew airlock and shut him in, Kurt says, “Isn’t that the EMU Parmitano was wearing? You know, when the water leaked?”

  “Yes,” Commander Sykes says. We can hear him through the radio. “They fixed it.” He smiles, “We don’t need to dig up every problem that’s ever happened on an EVA. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

  As the hatch is closed over the airlock entrance, Commander Sykes gives us the thumbs up.

  I watch Commander Sykes from the cupola as he begins to pull himself hand over hand across the station. He must be careful not to touch anything but the rails, but it is a task made difficult by the bulkiness of his suit and the tools he carries, as well as the fat fingers of his gloves. I’m so sure that something is going to go wrong that I’m glued to the glass, scarcely remembering to breathe. His voice comes over the radio, “I can’t believe how pocked these rails are. There are holes clean through the metal. This is worse than the last time I did an EVA. It’s the meteorites.”

  Commander Sykes reaches the antenna array. It consists of two dish antennas, each as wide as a man is tall, as well as four others that look like giant stick insects. Securing his tethers and his tool bag to the array, Commander Sykes unholsters a silver object that looks like a drill, his pistol grip tool. It has a ten-inch-long attachment at the end which gives him just the reach he needs.

  “You guys should be out here!” he says exclaims over UHF. “The Milky Way looks wild from here. Never saw it like this when we were in LEO.”

  I think he’s trying to lighten the mood because he knows we’re all nervous.

  After about two minutes of struggling with the PGT, he says, “I can’t free this bolt. I’m going to try the next antenna access terminal.”

  He has more success with this one. Within about twenty minutes, he says, “I’ve got a good look at the wiring here. Let me see.”

  I see him maneuvering his helmet lights to point them where he wants them. Then he says, “These wires are fused together. It looks like…wait a minute.” He is digging in his tool bag and produces a pair of plyers which he tethers to himself. He sticks the pinching end of the plyers into the tube he’s working on and pulls on something. “I can’t believe it.”

  “What do you see, Eric?” asks Commander Tomlinson.

  Commander Sykes does not resp
ond.

  “Tell us what you see.”

  “I feel water at the back of my head,” Commander Sykes says, pulling back from the array.

  “I knew it. Somehow I knew something like this would happen,” groans Kurt. He must be standing away from the microphone Commander Tomlinson is using because his voice is faint. “His coolant system has a leak. In a couple minutes his face will be covered. He’ll be blind and he could drown.”

  Drowning in space, I think. What a way to die.

  Commander Tomlinson says, “Eric, you need to return to the station right now. We think your EMU has a water leak.”

  “I know. But I need to get a sample of this wire. I have the time.”

  “I advise that you return immediately,” says Commander Tomlinson.

  Commander Sykes has pulled out a pair of snips and is busy using them inside the antenna access terminal. “The water is creeping over the top of my head,” he says. His arm suddenly jerks back. “Got it, but now the water’s in my eyes. I’m coming back, but you might have to guide me a bit.” He puts the piece of wire inside his tool bag and secures it. Then he unclasps his tethers and starts moving back along the rail. “The water is moving down toward my nose and mouth. I’m going to use my SAFER to go faster. Guide me.”

  He releases his grip on the rail and drifts backwards. Freeing his SAFER joystick, he goes forward a little as the nitrogen is forced out of the thrusters as white puffs.

  Katia says, “Commander Sykes? Can you hear me?”

  He raises a hand to give a thumbs up.

  “Good, but you can’t speak?”

  Thumbs down.

  In the background, Kurt says, “The water must be covering his face. He can’t breathe.”

  Katia says, “You need to go down.”

  Commander Sykes moves down.

  “I’ll tell you when you’ve gone far enough.”

  From my angle, it looks like he’s gone too far already, but I guess I can’t see everything Katia can see.

  “Stop.”

  Commander Sykes slows, but is still drifting.

  Katia says, “Try again. You’re still descending.”

  Now he stops.

  “Okay, you need to spin around 180 degrees. Use the yaw control.”

  Commander Sykes starts to turn, but it’s so quick that he is spinning around and around.

  “Too fast. You’re spinning. Try the other way.”

  His spin slows.

  “Try again.”

  Now he’s barely turning, but he’s facing away from the station.

  “You’re facing 180 degrees from where you should be. Try another yaw turn, but this time use the opposite direction.”

  He slowly turns the other way.

  In the background, Kurt says, “This is too slow.”

  “What about the Orlan-MKs?” says Valentin. “I could go out.”

  Tim says, “It might take too long.”

  Katia says, “Stop.”

  Commander Sykes stops spinning. He’s facing the station now.

  Katia says, “Go forward.”

  Tim says, “Should we use the Canadarm?”

  “No! We’re not using the arm,” Katia says. “It’s not safe.”

  “I’m going to get the Orlan,” says Valentin.

  Katia: “Commander Sykes, faster.”

  Commander Tomlinson says, “Valentin, meet me in the airlock with the suit. Shelby, bring pure oxygen. Kurt, come with me.”

  Commander Sykes has sped up, but he’s still making rather slow progress under the array as he moves towards the center of the station. After he gets there, he’ll need to pass under the American Lab and shift direction for the airlock on the other side of Node 1. I don’t know how long he’s been holding his breath, but it seems impossible that he can make it at this rate.

  “Faster, Commander Sykes,” says Katia.

  Tim says, “Take care. We don’t want him to fly out of control.”

  Commander Sykes gains speed. He is over halfway to the center of the station when, suddenly, his arms stick straight out and he starts waving them up and down. I can’t see inside his helmet to his face because of the reflective sun visor. His motions are odd and almost robotic.

  “Commander Sykes!” Katia yells. “Are you okay?”

  But his arms keep waving, widely and deliberately.

  “What’s happening?” Shelby’s voice asks over the radio.

  “He’s moving his arms around, up and down!” Katia exclaims.

  “Instinctive drowning response. The water must have entered his throat.”

  “I am coming, I am coming!” says Valentin. I can imagine him navigating as quickly as he can through the cramped quarters with the bulky space suit in tow.

  Shelby says, “I’m ready with your oxygen.”

  Realizing that I might be able to make myself more useful than by leering from the cupola at Commander Sykes as he drowns, I rush up from the cupola into Node 3, then to Node 1, where I can see Shelby, Commander Tomlinson, and Kurt. Shelby is already in the airlock with Commander Tomlinson.

  “What can I do?” I ask.

  “Just stay out of the way,” Commander Tomlinson barks.

  At that moment, Valentin arrives in Node 1 from my right. He is wearing a blue pajama outfit, complete with a cute little bonnet. The Russian Orlan-MK space suit he is pulling looks a little worse for wear. I only hope it’s more functional than the American version Commander Sykes is using.

  Valentin enters the airlock, where Shelby immediately slaps a mask over his mouth and nose. A cylinder with caution labels is affixed to the bottom of the mask. “Breathe as fast as you can,” she orders.

  The suit has a sizeable backpack. Kurt and Commander Tomlinson have already opened this up, the rim of which looks like steel. They position the suit in front of Valentin, and Shelby helps him slip into it feet first. Once he is partially inside the suit, Kurt and Commander Tomlinson hook up three tubes from his blue pajamas to the Orlan-MK.

  Katia shouts over the radio, “He stopped moving his arms!”

  “Where is he now?” Commander Tomlinson asks.

  Valentin is all the way inside the suit, which is almost like a mini tank with soft arms and legs.

  “He’s past the center.”

  “And he’s still traveling?” Commander Tomlinson asks as he and Kurt shut the suit up.

  “Yes.”

  Commander Tomlinson says, “Grab the other SAFER, Kurt.”

  Valentin waves, “No. There isn’t time. I’ll use Commander Sykes’.”

  Commander Tomlinson nods.

  Kurt asks, “Do you feel air?”

  Inside the suit, Valentin nods, “Yes, I feel air, I feel coolant. Everything is good.”

  “Katia, what is Commander Sykes’ trajectory?” Commander Tomlinson asks. He, Kurt, and Shelby exit the airlock and work to close the door.

  “He’ll be just left of the airlock. He’s passing under the American Lab now.”

  The airlock is closed, and Kurt taps the window and gives Valentin the thumbs up. “Good luck!”

  Valentin makes a thumbs up. We leave him there to go to the American Lab where Katia is watching monitors that show views outside the station. On the monitors can be seen Commander Sykes, totally inanimate, drifting away from the American Lab to the left of the airlock.

  “Chamber depressurizing,” Valentin says. “Thirty percent complete.”

  “Valentin shouldn’t do this,” Shiro says quietly. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “It’s the best chance we have now,” says Commander Tomlinson.

  “The robotic arm would be a better choice.”

  “No, not after what happened.”

  “Chamber is at fifty percent,” says Valentin.

  Sykes has now drifted to the end of the chamber and is about to pass it.

  “Is there any way I can speed this up?”

  “Not without opening the door, but that’s a bad idea.”

  “Agreed,
” says Valentin. “Very bad idea.”

  “Just use the arm,” says Shiro.

  “No, I won’t do it,” says Katia.

  “Don’t push her,” Commander Tomlinson says, putting a hand on Katia’s back. “She’s right. It’s not functional. It could cause more damage to the station.”

  “Seventy percent depressurized,” says Valentin.

  “Get ready,” says Kurt.

  “And Godspeed,” says Shelby.

  “It should be a quick trip,” says Valentin.

  Commander Sykes is now ten feet past the airlock, drifting in open space.

  “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, and I’m opening the hatch,” says Valentin.

  On the monitors, we can see him grappling the crank handle. He turns it around several times and then pushes the hatch, which swings open freely. Commander Sykes is now twenty feet away. Valentin emerges from the hatch and braces himself with his feet on the edge and an arm holding the hatch’s handle. “Okay,” he says. “I have to get this right.”

  “Take your time,” says Kurt.

  But Valentin has already kicked off. He floats through space away from the airlock at about twice Commander Sykes’ speed. As Commander Sykes reaches thirty feet, Valentin is at ten. When Commander Sykes is forty feet away, Valentin is thirty. As they drift farther and farther from the station, it becomes apparent that Valentin’s trajectory is off. He is heading too high. He will pass right over Commander Sykes’ head.

  Fourteen

  Sykes reaches about forty-five feet and Valentin is close behind him, probably five feet short. Then, at fifty feet, Valentin is above Commander Sykes. He stretches his arms out to reach for him and just barely snags the light and camera apparatus beside his helmet. Now with the two of them turning end over end, Valentin clambers around and pulls Commander Sykes up to face him. “He is unconscious, for sure,” says Valentin. He grabs the SAFER control box and pushes a button. The tumbling stops and they are now upright[8]. They slowly start to rotate and their velocity away from the station decelerates, then stops.