Space

by James A. Michener

  Throwing both hands in the air, he shouted, “We can save those men!”

  The controller summoned his three CapComs and said, [631] “No fluctuation in voice. No hysteria at this end.” To the hundreds gathering, he conveyed the same message: “I want all ideas and I want them quick. But only the CapComs are to speak with the astronauts.”

  Turning to the chief astronomers, he asked, “Could this have been predicted?”

  “No,” they said. “Closing months of a quiet cycle. It should not have happened.”

  The controller wanted to say, “Well, it did. Six thousand Rems.” But he knew he must betray neither anxiety or irritation. “Now it’s our job to get them home safe.”

  By the time Claggett and Linley reached their rover and turned it around, they no longer bothered with their dosimeters, because once the reading passed the 1,000-Rem mark, any further data were irrelevant. They were in trouble and they knew it, but they did have a chance if they did everything right.

  For nearly an hour their rover crawled back toward the waiting lunar module, itself attacked by the solar outpouring, and the two men wanted to talk about their predicament but could think of nothing sensible to say. So they took refuge in trivialities: “Men have absorbed large doses of this stuff, haven’t they, Linley?” and the scientist replied, “Every day, in dentist’s offices,” and Claggett asked, “Do those lead blankets they throw over you do any good?” and Linley said, “We could profit from a couple right now.”

  And then Houston heard raucous laughter coming from Luna. It was Linley: “Hey, Claggett! Did you see those medicals they threw at us last week? Said that a man with black skin had a 23.41 better chance of repelling radiation than one with white skin. Hot diggity! At last it pays to be black.”

  Then Claggett’s voice: “Move over, brother, so I can sit in your shadow.”

  Alone in Altair, John Pope carefully shuffled his summary sheets until he came to one bearing the elegant printing he had learned at Annapolis: RADIATION PRECAUTIONS, and when he had memorized his instructions to himself, he took down the massive volume of additional advice and went through each line, so that by the time his two companions reached their module he would be as prepared as [632] any man could be. Like them, he felt no sense of panic, only the added responsibility of doing the right thing in an emergency.

  HOUSTON: Altair, have you cranked in the data we sent?

  ALTAIR: Affirmative.

  HOUSTON: You have the drill on turning the CM around so the ablative shield keeps facing the Sun?

  ALTAIR: Affirmative.

  HOUSTON: Execute immediately rendezvous has been established.

  ALTAIR: Will do.

  HOUSTON: What is your dosimeter reading now?

  ALTAIR: As before.

  HOUSTON: Excellent ... your reading is much lower than Luna’s. You’re going to be all right.

  ALTAIR: All ready for rendezvous. Get them up here. The CapCom, up to this point, had been one of the older astronauts, a man with a stable, reassuring voice, but the NASA command felt that it would be advisable to use in this critical situation someone with whom the men upstairs were especially familiar, and Hickory Lee took over:

  HOUSTON: This is Hickory. All readings are good. (This was a lie; the dosimeter readings were terrifying. But it was not a lie, either; the prospects for an orderly rendezvous still existed.)

  LUNA: Good to hear that Tennessee voice. We can see the module. ETA fifteen minutes.

  HOUSTON: I will read lift-off data as soon as you’re inside. You don’t have a pad available now, do you?

  LUNA: Negative. Pads not a high priority aboard this bone-rattler.

  LUNA: Linley here. We have terrific rock samples. Will salvage.

  HOUSTON: Appreciated, but if transfer takes even one extra minute, abandon.

  LUNA: We will not abandon.

  HOUSTON: Neither would I. What’s that? Who? (After a pause): Luna, Dr. Feldman is here. He asks, “Dr. Linley, is your voice sort of drying up?”

  LUNA: Affirmative.

  HOUSTON (Dr. Feldman speaking): Imperative you swallow spit.

  [633] LUNA: Fresh out of spit. Send orange juice.

  HOUSTON (Lee speaking): Dr. Feldman says, “Dr. Linley, keep your mouth moist.”

  LUNA: Mouth! Be moist!

  Mission Control in Houston had received, in the past hour, a flood of additional men rushing to emergency posts, each determined to get the two astronauts into the slightly better environment of the lunar module and headed for rendezvous with Altair. But when they saw the shocking data from the dosimeters they could not be sanguine; this was going to be a tough ride, a very tough ride.

  HOUSTON: Park the rover close to the module.

  LUNA: Roger.

  HOUSTON: Inform me the moment Claggett steps into the module. I will start reading data for check. Nothing is to be done without full check.

  LUNA: I have always been one of the world’s most careful checkers. Call me Chicken Claggett.

  HOUSTON: Give me the word.

  As soon as Linley stopped the rover, Claggett dashed for the module, climbed in, and started taking down the instructions Hickory Lee transmitted. Since NASA could not wait for an ideal lift-off time, when Altair would be in maximum position to achieve rendezvous, schedules had to be improvised for second best, and when Linley saw that his commander would be occupied for some minutes, he welcomed the opportunity to return to the rover to rescue the precious cargo he had collected at the reticulated crater. He had been sent to the Moon to collect rocks and he proposed to deliver them, but as he heaved aboard the second batch, he seemed to tremble and reached for a handhold that was not there.

  LUNA: I think Dr. Linley has fainted.

  HOUSTON: Inside the module or out?

  LUNA: Halfway in.

  HOUSTON: Drag him in, secure all and lift off immediately.

  LUNA: I have only partial data. He’s in. You can do wonders in one-sixth gravity.

  HOUSTON: Lift off immediately.

  LUNA: I am using Runway 039. Ain’t a hell of a lot of traffic on it.

  [634] John Pope, coming from the Earth side of the Moon, which was now in darkness, used the sextant as a telescope to spot the module, and when he had it fixed he reported to Houston: “Everything regularrrr,” but he had already heard that Linley was unconscious and that Claggett would be making the complicated maneuvers alone: “If anyone can do it, he can.”

  LUNA: Linley out cold.

  HOUSTON: Have you completed your check? And his, too?

  LUNA: Shipshape.

  HOUSTON: It’s go.

  LUNA: You ready up there, Altair?

  ALTAIR: Three orbits should do it.

  LUNA: Here we come.

  And then, as Pope watched and the world listened, Randy Claggett, working alone, lifted the lunar module off the surface of the Moon and brought it six hundred feet into space.

  HOUSTON: All readings correct. One hell of a job, Randy.

  LUNA: I feel faint.

  HOUSTON: Not now, Randy. Not now. You dare not.

  LUNA: I ...

  HOUSTON: Listen, Randy. Hickory here. Hold the controls very tight.

  LUNA: It’s no good, Houston. I ...

  HOUSTON: Colonel Claggett, hold tight. You must not let go. You must not let go.

  LUNA (a long silence, then a quiet voice): Blessed Saint Leibowitz, keep ‘em dreamin’ down there ... (A choking sound) ...

  John Pope, who had heard this conversation, stared at the module through his sextant, saw it waver, turn on its side, sort of skid through space, and descend toward the Moon with fatal speed.

  HOUSTON: Hold on, Randy. You must not let go. Randy, you must not let go. Randy ...

  ALTAIR: Luna has crashed.

  HOUSTON: Location?

  ALTAIR: East of landing. Mountains.

  HOUSTON: Damage?

  [635] ALTAIR: Obliterated.

  HOUSTON: This is Hickory. Altair, climb to orbit.

  A
LTAIR: Negative. I must stay low to check.

  HOUSTON: I’m talking with Dr. Feldman. He asks, “Is your voice sort of drying up?”

  ALTAIR: Obliterated. My God, they were obliterated.

  HOUSTON: Hickory here. Altair, you must ascend to orbit. You are wasting fuel.

  ALTAIR: I will not leave until I see where they are.

  HOUSTON: You’ve already told us. East of landing. Mountains.

  ALTAIR: I will not leave them.

  HOUSTON: I think he turned off his mike. John, John, this is Hickory. It’s imperative that you proceed to orbit and prepare to ignite engine. John, John, this is Hickory.

  For two orbits John Pope flew alone through the intense radiation being poured out by the errant Sun, and each time when he headed directly toward the Sun he realized the heavy dosage he must be absorbing, for his dosimeter was running wild, but when he slipped behind the Moon, putting that heavy body between him and the Sun, he knew that he was reasonably safe from the extreme radiation.

  On each pass he stared for as long as he could at the site of the crash, and although he was at an altitude from which not much could be seen clearly, it was nevertheless obvious that the astronauts’ suits had been ripped by the crash and that death must have been more or less instantaneous, and he chanted to himself.

  “How different death is there. No worms to eat the body, no moisture to corrupt. A thousand years from now, there they’ll be, the first, the only. When wanderers come from the other galaxies, there our two will be, immaculate, unburied, waiting for the resurrection, all parts intact.

  “Oh, Randy, how I loved you. Warring together in Korea. The mock fights over the Chesapeake. The flights across the country, you pilot out, me pilot home. Those sixteen days in Gemini, with you drinking nothing but orange juice and farting in my face.

  [636] The hours of simulation. Drinking beer with Debby Dee.

  “Jesus, Randy, it can never happen again-but it happened once.”

  In hurried consultations NASA agreed that they would explain these two orbits of silence as a radio blackout caused by the Sun flare, which had now reached catastrophic proportions. Astronomers all across the world were focused on it, and scores of photographs were showing television viewers just how titanic the explosion had been, so that John Pope’s temporary silence must not be construed as anything untoward. Without discernible agitation, Houston asked all its stations to try to make direct contact with Pope, and a welter of international voices sped toward the drifting Altair. Pope listened dully, but snapped to attention only when a familiar one echoed:

  HONEYSUCKLE: This is Australia. (Or-stry-lee-uh, the voice said) Calling Altair.

  ALTAIR: Aren’t you the man who watched over Claggett and me in Gemini?

  HONEYSUCKLE: The same.

  ALTAIR: I remember you pronounced it Jimmin-eye.

  HONEYSUCKLE: How else?

  ALTAIR: I love your talk.

  HONEYSUCKLE: Houston is eager to speak with you.

  ALTAIR: I’d like to speak with Houston.

  HONEYSUCKLE: Everything roger?

  ALTAIR: Copasetic.

  HONEYSUCKLE: Good on you, Cobber.

  The hearty voice with its cheery brightness brought Pope back to attention, and when Houston reached him again, he was ready to talk:

  ALTAIR: Luna crash confirmed. They bought the ranch.

  HOUSTON: Any possibility of survivors?

  ALTAIR: Negative. Luna completely fractured.

  HOUSTON: Hickory speaking. John, we want you to go immediately to orbit.

  ALTAIR: Roger. Wilco.

  HOUSTON: John, during the blackout we calculated every mile of your way home. It looks good.

  ALTAIR: I’m ready.

  [637] HOUSTON. it will be obligatory for you to get some sleep. Will you need sedatives?

  ALTAIR: Negative. Negative.

  HOUSTON: Can you stay alert for the next six hours?

  ALTAIR: Affirmative. Six days if we have to.

  HOUSTON: Six days you’ll be in a feather bed. Now, John. Do you read me clear?

  ALTAIR: Affirmative.

  HOUSTON: And you understand the burn sequence?

  ALTAIR: Affirmative. Repeat, my mind is clear. I comprehend.

  HOUSTON: You’re going to have to do everything just right. Exactly on the times we give.

  ALTAIR: I intend to.

  HOUSTON: And if there is anything you do not understand ...

  ALTAIR: Lay off, Hickory. I intend to get this bucket safely home. You take it easy. I’ll take it easy.

  HOUSTON: God bless you, Moonshiner. Bring it down.

  ALTAIR: I intend to.

  As methodically as if he were in the seventeenth hour of a familiar simulation, Pope ran through his check lists, took note of his fuel supplies and when the firings were to be made to correct his course so that he would enter the Earth’s domain correctly. When all was secure, so far as he could control, he said quietly to Houston, “I think it’s go all the way,” and at the signal he fired the rockets which inserted him into the orbit that would carry him about 238,850 miles back to the safety of the Pacific Ocean.

  He now faced some eighty hours of loneliness, and from the left-hand seat the capsule seemed enormous; he was surprised that anyone had ever felt it to be cramped. Aware that he had been motionless for a long time while Claggett and Linley had been active on the Moon, he began to worry about his legs, and for two hours he banged away on the newly provided Exer-Genie, which produced a real sweat.

  He then turned on his tape, listening to Beethoven’s joyous Seventh, but remembering how Claggett had objected to what he called spaghetti music, he found it distasteful. Instead, he routed out some of Claggett’s tapes and listened to hillbillies singing “D-i-v-o-r-c-e,” which not even his longing to see Claggett again could make [638] palatable. When CapCom Ed Cater came on from Houston to ask if he wanted to hear the news, he said curtly, “No!” So Cater said that Dr. Feldman wished to ask a few questions.

  ALTAIR: Put him on.

  HOUSTON (Dr. Feldman speaking): Are you experiencing any dizziness?

  ALTAIR: Negative.

  HOUSTON: Any excessive dryness in the throat? Any spots in the eyes?

  ALTAIR: Negative.

  HOUSTON: Any blood in the urine?

  ALTAIR: Who looks?

  HOUSTON: I do. And I want you to. Report as soon as you check.

  ALTAIR: Will Comply.

  HOUSTON (Cater speaking): Your favorite shrink says it’s very important he talk with you.

  ALTAIR: Shoot. He may know something I don’t.

  HOUSTON: Crandall is here.

  ALTAIR: I remember him. Joe Rorschach.

  HOUSTON: He says, “Only reason you’re up there is because he passed you.”

  ALTAIR: Ask him if he remembers Claggett? Toward the end of the test Crandall showed us that blank sheet of white paper, and guys like me said, “Outer space” and “The face of the Sun,” and stuff like that, and Claggett took one quick look and said, “Two polar bears fornicating in a blizzard.”

  HOUSTON: Open mike.

  ALTAIR: That’s why I said fornicating. You remember what he said.

  HOUSTON: Dr. Crandall says, “Claggett was stable all the way.” (No comment) And he says it’s imperative that you remain stable. You have much work to do, coming up.

  ALTAIR: I’ll do it.

  HOUSTON: This is Hickory. You’re doing just fine. But we want you to sleep regularly, John. We want you to listen to the news.

  ALTAIR: Hey, knock it off. I’m not depressed. There’s nothing wrong with me.

  HOUSTON: For sure there isn’t, John. But you ate nothing yesterday.

  [639] ALTAIR: I was vomiting.

  HOUSTON: You refused to listen to the news. You cut me off and you cut Cater off.

  ALTAIR: I’d like to talk with Cater. I always like to talk with Cater.

  HOUSTON: Cater here. We’re not kidding, John. Thirty-six hours from now you have three men�
�s work to do. When you give me the word, I want to go over four special check lists with you.

  ALTAIR: You mean one-man emergency reentry?

  HOUSTON: It could be a little tricky, you know.

  ALTAIR: I figured that out a year ago. I have it programmed on my papers.

  HOUSTON: You really are a straight arrow. But we can’t just let you drift along up there for all these hours ... well, alone.

  ALTAIR: Plans called for me to be alone over the Moon for about this length of time.

  HOUSTON: Roger, but things were different then.

  ALTAIR: They sure were. Excuse me.

  He refused to speak any further, but when Hickory Lee came on again they talked freely about the familiarization trip to the Amazon:

  ALTAIR: If I put this bucket of bolts-Remember how Claggett used to describe his test planes? If I land this in the Amazon jungle, I’ll know how to live on hearts of palm and raw iguana.

  HOUSTON: They wanted to ask you if anyone had taken any alcohol aboard?

  ALTAIR: Do they want me to take it or not take it?

  HOUSTON: They thought it might calm things, but I told them you never touched the stuff.

  ALTAIR: Roger. I had this wild-eyed football coach who preached that the worst enemies a young man could have were cigarettes, booze, fried food, refined sugar and girls. And I was dumb enough to believe him. I’ve continued to avoid the first four.

  HOUSTON: Penny’s here at Houston with us.

  ALTAIR: She’s not putting on a big act, I’m sure.

  HOUSTON: She’s with Debby Dee.

  ALTAIR: I would expect her to be. Tell her I’ll see her May second.

  [640] HOUSTON: You’re due to land May first ... remember?

  ALTAIR: Hawaii, May first. Houston, May second.

  HOUSTON: They’ll probably fly her out to Hawaii.

  ALTAIR: Negative! Negative! She wouldn’t want to come anyway.

  It seemed as if the entire nation, and much of the rest of the world, was watching as John Pope prepared to bring his Altair back to Earth. Prayers were said and cartoonists hailed his solitary effort; television provided meaningful analyses of his situation, and various older astronauts appeared on the tube to share their estimates of what the real danger points would be. All agreed that a practiced hand like John Pope, who had tested scores of experimental planes and engaged the enemy in combat over Korea, was not likely to panic at the necessity of doing three men’s work. The highlight of the return trip came on the last full day, when Hickory Lee was serving as CapCom: