by Mike Jenne
Nodding slowly, Tarbox swallowed deeply. His hands fluttered as he replied, “Our flight surgeons also suspect that he’s losing his eyesight. He reported seeing a bright dazzle in his eyes when Cowin was on EVA, immediately before the radiation alarms started sounding. His eyesight has been progressively deteriorating, so our doctors believe that his retinas were permanently damaged.”
Ourecky recalled seeing vivid flickers in his eyes during a few of their missions. It was mildly amusing at first, but quickly grew to be an aggravation, particularly when he saw them as he was trying to fall asleep. The flight surgeons had not known what to make of the sporadic flashes, and were concerned about the potential for long-term damage such as cataracts. Shuddering, he imagined how terrifying it must be for Russo, stranded in orbit and slowly going blind as he also suffered from the debilitating effects of radiation sickness.
“I don’t understand, Admiral,” said Carson, finishing his Coke. “So if you never heard from them, were you just going to leave those men up there to rot?”
“We thought they were dead, Major,” replied Tarbox, kneading his wizened hands together. Scowling, he looked to be at the brink of losing his composure. “We had no reason to believe otherwise.”
“So you would just write them off?”
“That’s enough, Major Carson,” interjected Tew, in a voice that was barely audible. “This is an awkward situation, but you will show the admiral the respect that he deserves.”
“Look, this whole danged situation is plenty bad enough without us second-guessin’ what the Navy folks have done or ain’t done,” said Wolcott. “Admiral Tarbox has come here to solicit our assistance in bringin’ Russo home. That’s why we brought you boys back here.”
“Wait. Let me make sure that my ears are working right, Virgil.” Carson smirked, smoothing the edges of his moustache. “You did say that you wanted us to rescue Russo?”
“Yup,” replied Wolcott, nodding solemnly. “Of course, we ain’t exactly sure that it’s even feasible. Gunter and his folks are looking at different options. Gunter?”
Heydrich answered, “We’re still hammering out the details, but the tentative plan is for Ourecky to conduct an EVA transfer to the MOL and enter through their airlock. He will provide some initial medical treatment to Russo, check out the Gemini-B, and then reenter to Edwards.”
“And just so there are no misconceptions, we don’t know exactly what we’re facing up there,” disclosed Heydrich. “Russo absorbed a significant dose of radiation, but as the admiral indicated, we really don’t know how much. We’re not even sure he’ll survive the trip home.”
“Gents, if that ain’t enough bad news,” stated Wolcott. “There’s a heap more. Although we know that the MOL is operational, except for its radios, we ain’t entirely sure that the Gemini-B reentry vehicle is in full workin’ order. Its radios are functional, which is a good sign, but there’s a strong possibility that some of the other electronics got kayoed as a result of the solar storm. The onboard computer is particularly susceptible, as you two already know.”
“Couldn’t Russo power it up to run diagnostics?” asked Ourecky.
“Ja. He could have, but he hasn’t,” answered Heydrich. “Before you pass judgment on him, put yourself in his shoes. He knew from the start that he couldn’t fly home by himself, so it made little sense to power up the Gemini-B and risk draining its main batteries just to see if it works. Secondly, his eyesight is so degraded that it’s doubtful that he could even interpret the instruments. The fact is that the Gemini-B is either going to function or it’s not. Once you’re aboard, you might be able to make some minor repairs, but there’s very little that can be done.”
Carson scratched his head and asked, “What happens if Scott climbs into the Gemini-B and determines that it’s fried? What then?”
“Honestly?” answered Heydrich, wringing his hands. “We don’t have a good answer for that. Drew, we plan for you to remain on station until the Gemini-B’s reentry, so theoretically, he could transfer back to your vehicle for the return.”
“And leave Russo up there in the Can?” asked Carson.
“Russo might already be dead by then, hoss,” grumbled Wolcott. “As a matter of fact, he might be deceased even before you two launch. If you fancy my opinion, this whole gambit’s sort of a crapshoot. A danged expensive crapshoot.”
“But what if he’s not dead?” asked Ourecky. “I couldn’t just leave him up there to die.”
“We’re still looking at different options for that scenario,” replied Heydrich. “There are enough consumables for you to remain up there for another month, possibly even longer. Hopefully, that would give you sufficient time to resolve the problems with the Gemini-B, if there are any, or for us to find another way to bring you home.”
“NASA is obviously one alternative,” replied Tarbox. “And if there was no other alternative, we could approach the Soviets.”
“Oh, I’m plumb sure the Russkies would be just danged delighted to lend a helping hand,” opined Wolcott skeptically.
“Okay, assuming that the Gemini-B is on the fritz,” said Ourecky. “What if we put Russo in his suit and transferred him to our vehicle for the ride home? That would return him to Earth faster for medical treatment, and I could wait until you work out something to bring me home.”
“That’s very chivalrous of you, Ourecky,” replied Tarbox. “But that’s not a viable solution. Russo can’t don a pressure suit, even with your assistance. From his description, his upper body is badly swollen, plus he has a broken wrist. He is either returning in the Gemini-B, or he’s not coming home. It’s that simple. Besides, do you really think that he could exit the airlock, transit to the other Gemini, and embark in his physical condition? Again, thanks for the sentiment, but it’s not a practical course of action for us.”
“Agreed,” noted Wolcott, slapping the table. “By the way, gents, if all this ain’t complicated enough, we’ve got two more big chores for Ourecky to handle. Leon?”
Tarbox pointed at the diagram. “Cowin and Russo were operating intelligence systems that were gathering ocean surveillance and other data. There is over two weeks’ worth of data up there, compiled on storage cassettes similar to eight-track tape cartridges. The cassettes are normally loaded into data return pods. The pods are ejected and reenter on their own. After they’re under parachute, they’re snatched by a cargo aircraft in mid-air. Since the crew didn’t have comms with us, they couldn’t eject the pods. Ideally, we want Ourecky to retrieve the cassettes before he puts Russo in the Gemini-B.”
Ourecky nodded.
“Additionally,” said Tarbox, gesturing at the diagram again. “The reactor needs to be shut down. It’s in an independent reentry module with its own guidance system and retros. The close-out procedures are simple. Once you inactivate the reactor, you’ll eject the module and if all goes well, it ends up at the bottom of the ocean, far from land, safe and sound.”
Ourecky quickly studied the drawings; he was looking for solar panels or fuel cells, but saw none. “But once we shut down the reactor, sir, aren’t we going to lose power in the MOL?”
“Yes,” answered Tarbox. “You’ll still have roughly forty-eight hours on the batteries, but once they blink out, that’s it.”
“Look, Scott,” said Heydrich. “We’re sketching out a procedure for the close-out that should minimize the risks. Our tentative plan is that you’ll power up the Gemini-B, verify that the systems are operational, go back into the Can, shut down the reactor, eject it, and then reenter with the Gemini-B. That way, if you power up the Gemini-B and see that there are issues to resolve, you’ll still have the reactor power.”
“So what happens if Scott shuts down the reactor and the Gemini-B still craps out?” asked Carson.
“Then he has forty-eight hours to fix it, but more likely we would direct him to climb back into his suit and reenter with you,” answered Heydrich.
Carson sniffed. “Well, for once, other than
the marginal risk of riding a rocket into space, it looks like I’ve finally drawn the long straw. Scott’s the one assuming all the risks.”
Ourecky laughed nervously and said, “Gee, Drew, if you recall all the time we spent in the Tank down there in New Orleans, you always said you wish you could be doing the EVA work instead of sitting on your ass? Would you care to swap seats for this trip?”
Carson closed his eyes and was silent for several seconds. Then he said, “That sounds like a good idea, Scott. After seven trips upstairs, I’m confident you can handle my side of the ship. I’ll do the heavy lifting on this run. After all, that would give you much better odds of …”
“No, pard,” said Wolcott bluntly. “We’ve already pondered that option, and we’ve already chucked it out. Ourecky trained for the EVA work in the Tank. You ain’t. You’re definitely the hot hand when it comes to close-in maneuverin’. Shucks, I ain’t believin’ that I have to say this, Carson, but whether you like it or not, you’re going to sit in the left-hand seat for this lift.”
Tew cleared his throat and said, “Gentlemen, let me make something abundantly clear. This is an extremely hazardous endeavor, much more so than anything you’ve done up to this point. The risks are so great that we cannot and will not order you to undertake this mission.”
“Virgil, I have to ask,” said Carson. “What happens if we decline the mission?”
“Then we launch Jackson and Sigler, provided they accept,” replied Wolcott.
“So, in other words, if Scott and I decline, you really don’t have any viable options, do you?”
“Yup,” answered Wolcott candidly. The grizzled former cowboy spat a stream of tobacco juice in a wastebasket and added, “That just about sums it up, hoss. Fact is, you might say that you two pretty much have us bowed over a barrel.”
The room was silent for several seconds, and then Wolcott spoke. “Gents, I wish we had more time to chew the fat, but the downright fact is that this candle’s burnin’ and it’s burnin’ fast. We can give you a little while to contemplate this mess, but we need an answer pretty danged soon. You two got any thoughts on the matter?”
Carson said, “I can’t speak for Scott, but I’ll go if you’re willing to grant me one wish.”
“A wish, pard?” asked Wolcott. “You’re in the wrong place. This is the Air Force. We ain’t in the wish-grantin’ business.“
“What?” croaked Tew. “What is it that you want, Carson? What’s your wish?”
Carson said, “Sir, all I ask is this: If we do this thing and make it back alive, I want a chance to fly in combat.”
“Carson, I don’t know if you’ve quite figured it out yet,” said Wolcott. “But you’ve already been flyin’ in combat.”
“You know what I mean, Virgil. None of this will ever appear on my records, no matter what we’ve accomplished. All I’ve ever asked for was an opportunity to fly in Vietnam. In my opinion, that’s more than a fair trade for what you’re asking of us.”
“No,” replied Tew. “Absolutely not. It’s not subject to discussion, Carson.”
Wolcott chuckled and said, “Well, since we’re reduced to grantin’ wishes, maybe there’s something that we can do for you, Ourecky, even though we can’t make Major Carson’s fondest dreams come true. Is there anything you particular yearn for? Something that might help persuade you to ride that rocket?”
Ourecky thought of his last conversation with Bea, back at Offutt in Nebraska, just a few hours ago. His life would be immensely simpler if he could just share this secret with her. “Anything?” he asked.
“I s’pose the sky’s the limit, pardner,” replied Wolcott. “Theoretically, of course.”
“Honestly, there’s really only one thing I want,” said Ourecky. “Just for once, I would like to be able to tell Bea what I’m doing. This whole business is ripping us apart. I’m very worried that if I go up this time, it might be the end of our marriage. I know it’s too much to hope for, but if there was any way …”
“I’m truly sorry, Scott, but that’s one wish that we can’t grant,” replied Tew succinctly. “Surely there’s something else you want.”
Ourecky groped for an answer, but he found nothing. Soon, one way or another, he would be free of this burden. If he couldn’t level with Bea, then there was nothing that he wanted. And then he said, “Okay. If you can’t grant my wish, then at least grant Drew’s. I really don’t think he’s being unreasonable. He’s only asked you for one thing since this whole ordeal has started. Grant him that, and I’ll go with him.”
“No,” vowed Tew. “And that’s final.”
“Begging your pardon, sir,” interjected Carson, dropping the depleted Coke bottle in a wastebasket. “But Ourecky and I need to step outside for a chat. By your leave?”
Tew nodded.
“Make it snappy, hoss,” noted Wolcott. “If we have to conjure up Jackson and Sigler, I want them here pronto, so we can get this show on the road.”
“I don’t think we’ll be out long,” said Carson, standing up and heading for the door.
As he closed the door behind him, Carson addressed the captain and tech sergeant seated in the outer office. “Shoo,” he said curtly. “Disappear. Take a break. Go downstairs and grab a Coke. Bring me back one, if you don’t mind. Just give me five minutes.”
“Well?” asked Ourecky. “What’s your perspective on this, Drew?”
“I’m going,” stated Carson.
“What about flying in Vietnam?”
“I was just yanking their chain, buddy,” replied Carson. “I felt I had drawn the upper hand for once, so I tried to raise the ante. Obviously, Tew isn’t in the mood to play cards. So be it.”
“I thought you despised Russo. You would go upstairs for him?”
“Of course. The fact that I hate his guts doesn’t enter into the equation, not even in the slightest. Scott, at my core, I’m a West Point officer. I may have breezed a bunch of classes up there on the banks of the Hudson, but there are certain fundamentals that they pound into you from the first day. One is that we don’t abandon folks to die on the battlefield, regardless of who they are. It’s as simple as that. Russo needs my help, and I’m going to assist him.”
“Don’t you mean our help, Drew?”
“No, I meant my help. You’re a smart guy, Scott, a hell of a lot smarter than I’ll ever be, but I’m still going to state the obvious: there’s no need for you to go on this jaunt. This rendezvous solution is about a thousand times simpler than anything we’ve ever flown. I could jump on the rocket five minutes from now and fly this one in my sleep, by myself. I certainly needed your big brain when we were killing Soviet satellites, but this is a simple gig, Scott. I don’t need you.”
“But the EVA?”
“Mike Sigler has spent just as much time bobbing in the Tank as you have,” replied Carson. “There’s absolutely no reason he couldn’t go up in the right seat. Like I said, I don’t need you for this junket, Scott.”
“Oh, really?” asked Ourecky. He looked at Carson; not making eye contact, Carson looked at the linoleum floor. “Are you that comfortable about flying with Sigler?”
Carson hesitated for a few seconds, cleared his throat, and then mumbled, “Sure.”
“So you’re sure, huh? Let me give you my perspective, Drew. I’m not worried about you. Barring any significant hardware malfunctions, you’ll be fine, but I’m not entirely confident that Sigler can bring Russo home in one piece, particularly if there are any complications. You may be comfortable with Sigler, but I’m not.”
“Ourecky, are you dense?” replied Carson. “I don’t want you going on this trip. Yeah, you’re right; I’m going to be okay, regardless of what happens. But if you haven’t figured it out, and I suspect you have, once you cross over to that MOL, there’s no guarantee of coming back to our chariot. This looks too much like a one-way ticket, and I don’t want you buying it. So go home to Bea. Go home to your son. That’s where you need to be, Scott.”
Now it was Ourecky’s turn to be silent. He weighed all aspects of the situation. On one hand, he finally had an opportunity to be free of this recurring nightmare. It was the perfect out, since he was sure that Mike Sigler would be delighted to fly in his stead, if for no other reason than to vindicate himself after two failed missions.
On the other hand, the whole purpose for this mission was to bring Russo home, so it made little sense to field a second-string team. Or at least half of a second-string team. But Carson was right; once he crossed the gap to the MOL, there was virtually no chance of coming back. He didn’t think about it too long; Russo was dying aloft, so time was of the essence. With the knowledge of what had to be done, he swallowed and drew in a deep breath.
“I’m in,” said Ourecky softly, looking at the floor.
“No,” snapped Carson. “Go home, Ourecky.”
“I’m in, brother,” reiterated Ourecky. “If you’re flying, I’m flying. We’re a team.”
“No.”
“It’s not your choice to make, Major Carson. Now, we can go back in there and hash out this argument in front of Virgil, Tew, and the Ancient Mariner, or we can go back in there and present a unified front. What’s it going to be, Drew?”
Carson and Ourecky walked back into the office and sat down. “We’re in,” announced Carson. “No strings attached.”
“Both of you?” asked Tew, looking towards Ourecky. “Voluntarily?”
“Both of us,” replied Ourecky, nodding as he nervously twisted his wedding band. “Voluntarily.”
“So it’s unanimous that we’re going,” said Carson, leaning forward. “What’s the plan?”
“Gunter?” said Wolcott, deferring to Heydrich.
“Everything is en route to the PDF. We’ve recalled all of the launch support personnel,” stated Heydrich. “But we don’t anticipate having the stack at the PDF and ready to fly for another ten days.”
“Ten days?” asked Carson, shaking his head.
Heydrich nodded. “We intend to use every minute of that time to our advantage. We’re working out a training program specifically for this mission. We’re still ironing out the details, but the first step is acquaint Ourecky with the MOL, so we’re flying your training suits and gear to the Navy’s weightlessness training facility at Buck Island in the Caribbean. You’ll go there immediately after we’re done here.”