Unlike the weightless sensations experienced during acceleration of the gravitic drive, Vladimir did feel the change in motion as the sensation of weight began to return. Around him, he sensed other crewpersons, sitting at dead workstations around the control center, as they reacted positively to the change in status, grinning at each other and conversing softly.
“Fifty percent of maximum permissible thrust and increasing,” reported the same unknown voice. “Tether stresses are increasing.”
“Acknowledged,” snapped Opinchuk’s voice tensely.
The feeling of weight increased. Wiping more sweat from his brow, Vladimir guardedly watched the Sveta’s computer monitors, especially the orbital indicators. The two ships were accelerating toward Earth at an angle, from west to east. The computers projected that in the next few minutes they would enter the atmosphere high above India, curving easterly toward China as they rapidly fell. At the moment, the predicted point of impact was slowly crawling eastward on the display map. As the minutes crept past, the thrust from the Sveta moved the estimated impact point gradually off the Chinese coast and into the northern portion of the South China Sea. Gradually, it moved even further eastward, across the southern half of the Island of Taiwan. Vladimir cringed at the idea of the Kruzenshtern coming down on the crowded metropolitan area of Tainan. The consequences of hitting Taiwan were nearly as bad as hitting China! The tethers must hold! They simply must!
And then the predicted impact point started moving faster eastward as the momentum imparted by the Sveta proved decisive. With a flicker, the computer prediction altered completely. Now the two ships had enough speed that there would be no impact at all. Both ships would remain in orbit. With sudden giddiness, he swapped wild grins with the other members of his crew in the control center. The worst potential scenario was now behind them!
But they weren’t out of the woods just yet. Unless they built up even more delta-vee, the two vessels would dip down too low into the atmosphere. Their passage would create too much friction and the subsequent heat would fry everyone on board both crafts. They needed the tethers to last a little longer yet.
A glance at one of the other monitors on the Sveta revealed their current position along the projected pathway to be over central India. The two ships were just now starting to enter the tenuous outer reaches of the Earth’s atmosphere. There was no heat—yet—but in a few minutes that would change.
“Colonel!” Opinchuk barked through the link. “As per our simulations, I expect one of the tethers will melt and snap. When that happens, the Sveta is going to pull ahead because of its lower drag profile and automatically move to a higher orbit. Of course, until it breaks, we won’t know what our orbital parameters will be, but it will separate our two ships.”
Vladimir gave a curt nod. “Of course. You’ll have more velocity after the slingshot and a higher orbit. Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”
“You still have limited air, Colonel,” Opinchuk reminded his superior officer, as he massaged one temple with his fingertips. “We are burning most of our fuel mass for this maneuver but we will still have enough to get back to you on the other side. After that, I haven’t got the foggiest idea what we will do.”
“One emergency at a time, Colonel,” Vladimir mumbled, leaning back slightly and swiveling in his seat. He signaled to Lt. Dabrowski, now seated in Lt. Col. Aptekar’s old station. “Pass the word, Lieutenant. I want everyone in spacesuits and away from the outer hull wall for the next half hour. No exceptions, understand? Everyone. That outer hull is going to get really toasty hot.”
“Yes, sir!”
THREE
“Dr. Dubov? Ma’am? Col. Ushakov has ordered everyone into spacesuits and in their couches, ma’am,” Lt. Istomin informed the scientist as he and Sgt. Borisov floated closer to her in the dimly lit interior of the engine bay.
The doctor’s upper torso was well inside the engineering console for the backup power system, her legs and feet sticking outward at an odd angle. With a kick, she pulled herself out and glanced toward the lieutenant. “Ah, Lieutenant…Istomin and Sergeant Borisov, right?” she said, with a tight frown. “Technically speaking, you are correct. I should be in a spacesuit and I should be in a flight couch. But then, technically speaking, I should also not be aboard the Vanya, at least not while the engines are down and it is under tow. That’s what I heard Col. Opinchuk say an hour ago. Technically speaking, that is.”
Istomin looked amused. “You do have a point there, Doctor.”
Dubov glanced around the semi-lit compartment. “I don’t remember there being any flight couches in here, at least, none that survived the explosion. So the two of you and I are the only ones here right now, correct? I’m assuming that everyone else obeyed orders and that they are in some other part of the ship. That means if anyone reports me to the colonel, it would have to be one of you. Are you planning to report me, Lieutenant?”
Istomin swam closer and stationed himself in front of the ship’s maneuvering panel. Borisov took a position next to him then gave a meaningful glance at the lieutenant. With a wry grin, Istomin removed his spacesuit gloves which he fastened to his belt.
“Report you, Doctor? I’m going to be a little too busy here using the thrusters to keep the ship aligned so that the tethers don’t break. I won’t have time to notice the ‘comings’ or ‘goings’ of anyone from this compartment, let alone the time to report them. How about you, Sergeant?”
Borisov produced a rueful smile. “Me, sir? There’s no one here but you and I, sir, and even I don’t want to be here. Okay, sir?”
Dubov grinned in response and returned to her work. “We need every minute possible for repairs. The way I see it, if this ship doesn’t survive the tow operation, then it doesn’t matter if we are in spacesuits and strapped to a flight couch or not. But it might make a huge difference to the ship’s survival if we can get the backup power online.”
Istomin frowned at her words. He reached out and energized the maneuvering panel. “Doctor, the fusion power plant is too badly damaged and the backup power is too limited. Even the fusion plant in the Sveta can’t generate the power needed. So, even assuming that the space drive still works, what would we use for power?”
“I don’t have that answer, Lieutenant. Not yet anyway. But as the Americans used to say, ‘Don’t count your eggs before the fat lady sings.’ Or something like that.”
“Those Americans and their sayings,” Istomin remarked with a snort while running the panel through a diagnostics routine. “Doctor, earlier, I heard you say that Russia’s future survival depends on the Kruzenshtern. Don’t get me wrong. I know how much was invested in this ship and how long it took to build it. And I know how revolutionary the gravitic drive is, and how it will make all other space vessels obsolete. But does the future of Russia really depend on this ship? Isn’t that overstating it a bit?”
For a few moments, Dubov didn’t answer him and Istomin began to wonder if he had somehow offended her with his question. But when she spoke, she did so with great calm and in a thoughtful voice.
“There have been many empires in the history of man, Lieutenant. Roman, Greek, Ottoman, Mongol, British, American and many, many others. But they all had one thing in common. They could project power on other countries and peoples. Most of the time that was military power but in some cases it was economic, cultural and even educational power. But whatever the source, they could impose their goals, wishes and influence on others. And that made them powerful.
“Right now, we are at a crossroads on the world stage. The two top nations in the world are China and Russia. And the Chinese and her allies outnumber us Russians and our allies more than five to one.
“There is a war coming between us, Lieutenant. A war for supremacy. That little dust up in the Sea of Japan three years ago was just the beginning. Unless something changes, there will be a major war between us. Russia may very well be the loser in that contest.”
Istomin swallowed hard
, staring in the direction of the doctor. “But this is just one ship. And it has no weapons…”
“It’s what this ship represents that is important, Lieutenant,” she responded, conviction in her voice. “The British and then the Americans did it. Even the Japanese did it to a degree. They expanded their influence and control via trade routes and economic ties. Imagine what Russia could do with a fleet of gravitic drive ships in this solar system. We could make mining economically feasible in the asteroid belt. We could establish colonies from Mars to the moons of Saturn. We could mine helium-3 from the atmosphere of Jupiter and establish the greatest system of trade in the history of mankind. We would militarily control all of Earth’s and the Moon’s orbital spaces. With that sort of control, there would be no war with China because they would not dare to try anything then. In a sense, we need the Kruzenshtern and the space drive to prevent a war, a war that might kill millions or even tens of millions of people. And prevent the subjugation of Russia to China. It’s imperative that we save this ship, Lieutenant. The future of Russia depends on it, even if the Russian government and the Russian people don’t see it that way just yet. I promise you, without this ship, war is coming.”
Istomin had stopped working, instead floating quietly while deep in thought. He wasn’t sure that he quite believed what she was telling him. Maybe there was a war coming and maybe there was not.
But he could easily imagine the effect on mankind that a fleet of gravitic drive spaceships would have. And how it would make the Russian Federation the greatest empire in all of history. That part was very believable indeed.
“Dr. Dubov? Does the colonel know all this? About how important the ship is?” he asked, eyebrows raised, curious about how she might answer his question.
“You can bet on it, Lieutenant. I guarantee it.”
With a grunt, Istomin activated his PHUD. “Control Center, this is Maneuvering. Manual thruster controls are ready.”
The two linked ships continued their voyage in the upper reaches of the Earth’s atmosphere, the heat on both hulls increasing with friction.
Communications with the outside world were soon lost due to ionic interference. Inside the Vanya, all that Vladimir Ushakov and the crew could do now was to wait in the dark and increasingly warm ship, not knowing how well their hastily cobbled plan was working. Or not.
The minutes dragged relentlessly onward as the ship vibrated and hummed while speeding inexorably through the mesosphere. Vladimir made himself stop drumming his fingers on his workstation console, determined to at least pretend to be patient. But the nauseous feeling in his stomach belied his attempt, his hands sweaty and cold.
It was no surprise to anyone when one of the tethers suddenly snapped, the jar sending a shock wave through the hulls of both ships. Lt. Istomin reported via PHUD that he had immediately released the second tether, before the uneven pull created a problem for both ships.
The sensation of weight also disappeared. Now the Kruzenshtern was in complete freefall again, at least until the friction with the atmosphere imparted enough resistance to begin a higher degree of deceleration. Vladimir made himself watch the clock patiently as time slowed to a merciless crawl.
When the predicted time finally came, he opened a PHUD comm channel.
“Svetlana Savitskaya, this is the Johann Kruzenshtern,” he said. “How do you read?” Pause. “Svetlana Savitskaya, this is the Johann Kruzenshtern. How do you read?”
There was a slight burst of static in his ears followed by a weak voice. “Johann Kruzenshtern, this is…Savitskaya. Your signal…weak. Distance…increasing…signal….”
Vladimir sighed in disappointment. The other ship had moved out of range of his PHUD. He and his crew would have to proceed without them.
“All right, everyone,” he said, mentally linking in to the ship’s broadcast system and also raising his voice for everyone in the control center to hear, using the most confident voice he could muster. “We are moving out of the Earth’s atmosphere. Time to get out of your suits. We have work to do. Maybe we can’t repair the fusion plant, but we can probably do something with the backup power. No, the backup system doesn’t have the power capacity needed to activate the ship’s drive, but it can handle the demands of the environmental systems. It would be nice to have some lights and air around here. So, let’s get to work, shall we?”
For the next two hours, the nearly sixty men and women remaining on board the Vanya worked like they were possessed, clearing away damaged equipment and components, dragging spares from storage and concentrating on repairing the ship’s backup power system. They worked without breaks or meals, with increasingly poor air to breathe, under emergency lights, and in increasingly cooler temperatures. But they worked.
Meant for emergency use only, the backup power source consisted of three banks of hydrogen-oxygen fuel cells. While technology had developed other, more sophisticated and advanced power sources, the H2O fuel cells held the distinct advantage in any emergency situation, that of being the simplest in design and containing no moving parts.
Most of the damage to the fuel cell power system was to the controls in the engine bay. The few remaining electricians feverishly rigged bypasses to the controls and power feeds where possible, and replaced other components when they couldn’t. Other, less qualified volunteers helped with grunt work or acted as gofers.
With his broken arm, Vladimir wasn’t much help physically. So he helped out in any other way possible: holding portable lights, reading drawings, and working with test equipment. On occasion, he had to make a command decision such as moving personnel from the team working on damage in the control center to the team working on a fused power panel in one corner of the engine bay.
Slowly, the scenery in the engine bay changed and it began to look a little more like normal. At least, most of the flotsam in the air was gone now. Vladimir was holding a voltmeter in his good hand while Borisov was making readings in the feed-lines to the ship’s drive, when Lt. Istomin appeared as if by magic, with Dr. Dubov a few steps behind him. Vladimir visibly jumped in reaction.
“Sir?”
“Stop doing that, Lieutenant!” Vladimir commanded sharply.
Istomin was puzzled. “Doing what, sir?”
“Sneaking up on people! It’s…unnerving.”
“Sir, I didn’t…sir, we are ready to power up Bank Two of the fuel cells. As soon as you give the word.”
Vladimir nodded. “Do it! And when you get the other banks working, power them up too. Don’t wait on me, understand?”
“Yes, sir. Sir, there isn’t enough power in one bank to power up very much.”
“That’s a good point,” the colonel admitted. “Start with the lights in the engine bay. Also put power to the air-scrubbers. If you have any left over, use it for communications. I need to talk to the Savitskaya.”
“Understood.” And with that, the man disappeared again, virtually into midair. Even Dr. Dubov produced an amused smile before slowly following along in the lieutenant’s wake.
“That’s a neat trick,” Vladimir said with a snort at the lieutenant’s ability. “I wish I could do that.”
A couple of minutes later, the engine bay lighting snapped on. Well, most of it. There were a few light fixtures that still held shattered elements. But the lights that did come on were such a remarkable improvement that most of the crew in the compartment sent up a ragged cheer.
The distinct sound of the ventilation fans was the next morale victory. With the movement of air, the air-scrubbers began removing the excess CO2. The smell of burnt insulation, electrical equipment and unwashed bodies would go with it, Vladimir hoped.
“Sir?” asked Istomin’s voice from near his right elbow.
Startled, Vladimir closed his eyes and squashed the desire to say something he might later regret at the young man.
“What is it, Lieutenant?” he asked with great patience.
“Our comm has been restored but it doesn’t have much ran
ge. We can reach the Savitskaya but we’re too far out to reach Flight Control.”
Vladimir sighed in relief. “Excellent work, Lieutenant. Please pass my congratulations to your work team. Excellent work.”
With a thought, Vladimir hailed the Savitskaya.
“There you are,” Opinchuk sighed in relief. “You have your backup power repaired?”
“Just Bank Two,” Vladimir responded. “What is our orbital status?”
“According to our radar, the Vanya is in a highly elliptical orbit, with an apogee near geo-synch orbit,” the younger man replied. “Ours is even further out, until we make a corrective burn. Hold for a moment,” Opinchuk said with a raised hand. “We are relaying a com-link from Earth.”
Another image popped up beside the first. A very concerned looking General Kandinsky gave Vladimir a curt nod.
“Col. Ushakov, status report.”
“Yes, sir.” Vladimir tried to get his thoughts organized, though his fatigue and the pain of his arm were beginning to tell on him. “Bank Two of the backup supply is now functional. We have lights and minimal environmental systems back online. Also limited comm. We hope to have Bank Three up within the hour. I’m afraid that Bank One is un-repairable in our current circumstances.”
The general nodded in gloomy understanding. “We have a problem here, Col. Ushakov. The tether broke too early during your joint maneuver. The Vanya lost too much velocity through the Earth’s atmosphere. Yes, the apogee of your elliptical orbit will take you more than 36,000 kilometers out, close to the geosynchronous orbital belt. But on the perigee of your orbit, the Vanya will re-enter the Earth’s atmosphere again and burn up on re-entry, this time with a projected impact on the east coast of South America, near the city of Belem, Brazil, with a population of 6.5 million people.”
“And unfortunately, this time, Colonel, the Sveta cannot help save the Vanya,” Opinchuk said remorsefully, joining in on the conversation. “We burned most of our fuel mass with that first maneuver. And we are burning quite a bit more mass just to rendezvous with you again. We don’t have enough to repeat that towing maneuver again.”
Heroes: A Raconteur House Anthology Page 23