“You don’t need to do anything. My suit controls yours, which automatically follows me wherever I move. Do you see the jets on the belt? They take care of everything.”
“What if you get hit by a meteorite?”
“First of all, they’re asteroids as long as they’re still out here. Second, the risk is very, very low. You’d more likely get hit on the head by a coconut in New York City. And third, your suit would automatically bring you back into the airlock. FYI, this also happens when there’s a risk of running out of fuel. Nothing can happen to you.”
“Very reassuring,” said Wiseman.
“Then we’ll squeeze into the pack,” Nick said, closing his helmet.
Now he went forward. It was always quite an effort to move into the narrow cavity. The less space between suit and wall, the less air they wasted. A status display in the helmet visor told him that the bald guy was ready.
“Close inner airlock door,” said Nick.
The inner door shut behind them.
“Watch out, Wiseman, you’re in for a shock. But nothing can go wrong.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
“Open outer airlock door,” Nick commanded. He knew what was going to happen, but he still instinctively looked for a strap to grab.
The metal plate that had been blocking the view to the exterior slid briskly aside. He was hanging with his head downwards over the Earth, which filled his entire field of vision. The sensation of freefall was overwhelming, and Nick felt sweat break out. No, he told himself, you’re not falling. It would only take him a few seconds to adjust to this perspective. He mentally rearranged his orientation, and closed his eyes to better do so. When he opened them again, he was lying back and staring up into the sky, where the Earth was suspended above him. Enormous. Much better.
Wiseman was breathing heavily.
“Everything okay? Close your eyes. The Earth is above you, you hear?”
“Everything—”
“Listen! Nothing can happen to you, Wiseman. There is no down and no up here. Close your eyes and picture the Earth up in the sky.”
What Nick had said wasn’t exactly true. If Wiseman needed to throw up, the trip would be over. This was also somewhere in the fine print he’d signed.
The outer door automatically closed behind them.
“Okay,” the realtor finally said. “Now everything’s fine.”
“Great! You’re a natural astronaut.” These were the first words he’d learned when he was in training to be a tourist pilot. Because they worked.
“Thank you.”
“We’re going to separate from the ship.”
“Roger.”
Nick pressed his thumb against the side of his index finger. As a result, the jet on his back emitted a pulse that pushed him slowly forward. He exited the narrow alcove and detached from the spaceship. The passenger suit copied his every move.
Wiseman’s breathing was audible again.
“You all right?” Nick asked.
“Yes. Weird, but okay.”
“Good. I’m looking for the satellite. You can change your position in space with your left hand. Did anyone explain that to you?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“And don’t worry, you won’t get away from me.”
“Very reassuring.”
Nick navigated the menus in his helmet with his eyes. First he received the radar display, followed by the infrared view. The satellite they wanted to capture was already on the same orbital plane. The computer had calculated an almost-perfect course. Nick masked the menus and looked around. There was a shadow in front of the sun. That had to be it.
Nick reached into his tool belt for the regulation nylon cord for emergency use. “Got it,” he said. “Come on, let’s go.”
He set course for the satellite by stretching his right arm out towards it. He always felt a little like Superman at this point, with his spacesuit serving as his cape.
Wiseman cheered, and his suit followed Nick automatically. His passengers almost always adjusted quickly to the conditions in orbit—Nick had a natural talent for this. But the profits they were eyeing might have had something to do with it, too.
At first glance, the Spacelink satellite looked like new. It had a few minor scars, but its solar cells shone as if freshly cleaned. Nick floated around it. He’d have to fold in the solar panel. But when he tried to do so, the satellite only turned.
“Wiseman?”
“Yes?”
“I need your help over here. You’re going to have to press against the right panel while I fold in the left one.”
“But how? I have no control over my suit.”
“Now you do. Point your right arm towards the right panel and gently tap your index finger with your thumb.”
“Okay,” Wiseman replied, slowly starting to move.
When he was right about at the level of the panel, Nick took command of his suit again, and it stopped immediately. “Nice job,” he said. “Just hold the panel now.”
Nick had his own suit exert forward pressure. Wiseman’s suit copied the movement so they were pushing the panels inward simultaneously. It worked. After about 15 degrees of rotation, the solar panels automatically began moving into their safety position and folded up completely. Nick fixed Wiseman’s position in space and moved towards the satellite. He took the line out of the belt pack and fastened it between the two panels, then took Wiseman back in tow.
“That’s it,” Nick said. “We’re returning to the ship. We can pull in the lifeline from the inside.”
“That was fast,” said Wiseman. “Can’t we break any rules while we’re out here?”
“We’ve already lost time. If we’re really late, there will be trouble. The ship still has to be prepared for another launch tomorrow.”
Meanwhile, they had started moving back to the spaceship. After Nick attached the line to a reel on top of the capsule, the outer door opened, and they floated into the airlock. The two men made their way back into the narrow gap, the outer door closed, atmosphere flowed in, and the inner door opened.
“Congratulations, Mr. Wiseman,” said Nick. “You’ve completed your first EVA.”
“Thank you.”
Wiseman took off his spacesuit and an unpleasant odor reached Nick’s nose. He politely ignored it. Sometimes people relieved themselves in reaction to the adrenaline kick when the external airlock opened, but everyone was required to wear a diaper since there weren’t any toilets on board.
Nick floated back to his command chair and pressed the button for the ‘Fasten Seat Belts’ sign. He realized there was something else to do, so he searched the menu for emergency operations, which he could use to control the reel on the roof and draw in the line. The satellite began moving towards them, but the ship was also changing its position slightly. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction—you can’t escape Newton. Finally, the satellite landed on the roof.
Nick drew the cable in as tightly as possible so their prize wouldn’t escape. He entered the modified data, including the total mass of the ship plus the Spacelink satellite, into the control computer. They were going to land in the Spaceport 40 minutes late. His boss would not be pleased.
Another 40 kilometers to go. In the past, he’d covered that distance in just a few minutes.
Afterwards, he could sit himself down in his car and have it drive him home. He hoped Rosie wouldn’t be back yet. He wanted to rest, just half an hour. Sit on the sofa in front of the house and stare into the desert. Come down.
Suddenly there was a drumming sound from above. Crap. Nick braced himself against the seatbelt and straightened up.
“Mr. Abrahams?” asked a female voice from behind.
Yes, he was taking care of it. Nick closed his eyes for a moment. There was an impulse to just do nothing. Wouldn’t that be the best for everyone? His wife would get the mandatory insurance his boss had taken out for him, and he’d be at peace.
“Mr. Abrahams?” The
Japanese woman was worried.
A hand touched his shoulder and Nick turned around angrily. Had she gotten up? The realtor was kneeling on the floor and pointing upwards.
“You got that under control?” he asked.
“Of course.”
He nodded. It was entirely clear to him what was going on. The fucking satellite wasn’t fixed tightly enough, and now it was thrashing in the wind. He should have fastened it in at least three different places. Why had he forgotten that? Had he perhaps wanted to bring this situation onto himself? But it was too late now. He couldn’t exit during the descent, and a go-around was out of the question.
Nick released the straps to reach the command screen more comfortably. He was looking for the emergency program. He couldn’t cut the line, but he could push off the reel that was holding the line and, along with it, the pricey souvenir he wanted to sell off to Wiseman.
“Sorry, my friend,” he said, tapping the button that released the reel. The drumming didn’t stop. “Crap!”
“Mr. Abrahams? What’s going on?” asked the woman from behind.
“Doesn’t sound like things are under control to me,” said Wiseman.
I really don’t need this, he thought. “Please, all of you, just be quiet. I have to think!”
It worked. Nobody uttered another word. The only sound to be heard was the drumming, which was getting louder and louder. What would happen as the density of the atmosphere increased? How many impacts could the roof of the spaceship sustain? The bottom was reinforced for reentry, but the top didn’t have to be equally robust, so the design engineers had certainly saved some weight there. Every gram cost a few dollars per launch.
Nick pulled himself toward the ceiling. The emergency release could not be controlled electronically, but it was designed to work even in the event of a power failure. He was going to have to eject the reel by hand. If only he could remember that training! But that had been eight years ago, and there hadn’t been an emergency since. Crap! This was sure to send his boss off the handle. The fact that he was proceeding manually would necessitate a multi-day repair.
Nick hoisted himself up. With a folding knife he pushed the ceiling panel to the side. Just past it was a dark cavity. “Wiseman, give me light here!”
The bald guy reacted quickly. Good man. Now Nick could see the levers and switches in the false ceiling. They were labeled with abbreviations that he’d had to memorize long ago but had since forgotten. What he did know was that the name would have to end with Ej for Ejection. But there were four candidates. MSEj, LEj, and CEj numbers 1 and 2. He ruled out the last two because there was just one reel.
What could MS stand for? Should he try it? He touched the lever with his right hand. What if the ‘S’ was for ‘seat?’ If he were to fling them out of the ship at 35 kilometers, they would all die. No, it had to be the L. Maybe it stood for ‘Line?’ His mind was blank. He really shouldn’t drink so much.
Nick looked down. A look of farewell? Wiseman moved his lips, but the drumming was now so loud that Nick couldn’t understand a word. He pulled on the LEj lever. There was resistance, but Nick kept pulling. The lever gave way and moved down a few inches.
And the drumming stopped. Whew—lucky. Nick’s heart rate started slowing back down and he took a deep breath.
“Thank you, Commander,” the bald man said, returning to his seat.
“Everyone buckle up. Landing in twenty minutes,” Nick ordered.
5/24/2080, Socorro, New Mexico
Nick threw his jacket over his shoulder. When he had left the house that morning, the thermometer wasn’t yet at 16 degrees. Now the sun was shining, and it had surely broken into the 30s. He approached the gate and then passed into the lobby.
His boss was standing in the doorway to his office. “Come here for a minute?” Had Bill been there long? He hadn’t noticed.
“Can we do it tomorrow, Boss? I’m sure Rosie’s already waiting for me so we can have dinner.” Rosie in fact would never wait for him before eating, but his boss’s wife, Solveig, cooked for him every night.
“No. Now.” He was noticeably abrupt. Bill was generally affable. He stepped out of the doorframe and let Nick go in first. He didn’t ask Nick to sit down, however, but instead went to stand behind his desk.
“What’s going on?” Nick asked.
“You’re fired,” Bill replied. “I can’t leave the passengers with you anymore. You’re unfriendly. I’ve told you so many times. But what you did today really takes the cake.”
“This guy Wiseman wanted—”
“It doesn’t matter what he wanted. You’re responsible for their safety. If things had really gone wrong, the company would have ended up broke and everyone here would’ve been out of a job. Who do you think who you are?”
“Astronaut Nick Abrahams, the world record holder for most launches into space?”
“You were a good astronaut once. I suggest you take a year off, have a rest, and then come back. I’ll see to it that you get an office job here. You can guide the visitors through our museum. That’d be interesting, right?”
“Shit, man. I’d rather kill myself, Bill.”
“I didn’t hear that just now. Otherwise I’d have to get you committed.”
“And the flight tomorrow?”
“We have to cancel for tomorrow. The whole rest of the week we’re closed. That’s your fault.”
“But after that—”
“Now it’s Mike’s turn,” his boss cut in.
Of course. Mike, who’d been interning there for half a year. They’d just been waiting to replace Nick. Mike would undoubtedly be cheaper, plus he was 20 years younger and not as defiant.
“Oh, just bite me,” said Nick. He turned to leave the room. He tossed his employee badge at the woman behind the reception desk and she caught it deftly. Was this the new one? Maybe he should take her out sometime.
Oh, shit, they won’t be seeing me back here anytime soon. Out of here!
‘You are now leaving Truth or Consequences.’
The city where Spaceport America was located had a stupid name. Nick turned around and looked back at the last of its houses. As if there was really a choice between truth and consequences! Truth and Consequences would have been more logical. They only came in a twin pack.
Semi-desert started to appear along the roadside as he drove the four-lane highway to Socorro. Nick took the steering wheel in both hands and the car realized that he wanted to take control. He stepped on the accelerator. On the I-25, the speed limit was 120 kilometers per hour, so in autonomous mode the car wouldn’t go any faster. Now he got it up to 150.
Maybe he’d manage to get home before his wife. Their commutes were about the same distance. He had to go north, and she went east, with Socorro as home base. It had seemed practical to them at the time. His wife worked at the Very Large Array, or VLA. She often put in overtime, and lately even more than before. Evidently she did not long for his company. Nick shook his head and pushed the accelerator up to 160 kph, causing the car to issue an alert. The speed lock would turn on at 175 kph.
He moved into the right lane and passed a truck, then weaving back to the left. The local sheriffs weren’t very active around here. Really, he couldn’t get away from his old job fast enough. And there was also a little part of him that wanted to get caught.
The car slowed down independently, two kilometers before reaching Socorro. The speed limit in the city was 50 kph, enforced by a GPS system mandatory for all vehicles. Socorro was proud to be among the first three cities in the U.S. to adopt this technology, and the mayor even appeared on the national news about it. What had become of the American dream, the idea of freedom? he mused. Nick glanced at the glove compartment. At least they hadn’t taken his Smith & Wesson away from him yet.
The car turned onto a side street. The median strip had still been a fresh green when they’d moved here. It had seemed almost artificial to him, but Rosie had explained that it was an extraordinarily resil
ient species of grass. Now, ever since the city had prohibited the watering of gardens and green spaces, everything here was gray, from one bungalow to the next. Nick couldn’t even tell which one was his, but the car knew. It signaled, stopped briefly, and then turned into the driveway.
There was already a vehicle parked in one of the spots in the garage. Rosie must have gotten off work early. She’d left the trunk open, and he slammed it shut without looking inside. So she’d been shopping, that was good. Maybe there would be something other than frozen pizza. Or was there a special occasion he’d forgotten? Rosie’s birthday was in November and their anniversary was in February. He couldn’t think of anything he’d done wrong.
He opened the door leading directly from the garage into the kitchen.
“Rosie?”
There was no answer. He walked through the kitchen into the hallway, then stopped at the entrance to the living room. Rosie was sitting on the sofa across from where he stood. In front of her were two suitcases. She smiled shyly, almost awkwardly. That was the smile he’d fallen in love with more than 20 years ago. He smiled back. But what were the suitcases for?
“Hello, Darling,” he said.
Rosie’s smile faded. “Hello Nick,” she said. “Have a seat.”
He didn’t want to sit down. Even though his flight instinct had been triggered, he stayed put. He even managed to formulate a question but suspected that he wouldn’t want to hear the answer. Those suitcases... “What’s going on?”
“I... I’m leaving you.”
“I see. That explains the suitcases.” Shouldn’t he have felt something? Sadness, perhaps, or anger? He paced up and down the living room.
“I packed everything I need. Most of it is already in the car.”
“So you’ll be living somewhere else?”
“Yes. Jim has a room that’s free, so I can move in.” Jim, who had been her PhD supervisor, had retired a long time ago. He was gay.
“Is there... is there someone else?”
“That’s not what this is all about.”
The Dark Spring: Hard Science Fiction Page 29