“Do that. We’ll only get one whack at this.”
Ryan pushed away for the breaker panel along the rear bulkhead and checked it against a schematic on his tablet. “Forward jets all tied to system B, aft to system A. It’s all good,” he said, “assuming Denver configured this right in the sim.” He then looked down at the engine controls. “Exhaust vanes on number two set to manual.”
The exhaust nozzles could change diameter, opening and closing like a metallic flower, which optimized thrust up through the higher altitudes until they were in rocket mode. It was one of the plane’s strongest components, and they would use it as a docking collar for the transfer vehicle. Once the tug made contact, they would manually close the vanes tightly around its docking probe and gently push backwards. It was crude and would probably wreck both the engine and the tug, but it would hopefully get the job done. It had to.
Not that anyone cared about liability at this point, though it hadn’t stopped a midlevel ESA bureaucrat from demanding payment for damages. “You must understand this is not covered by your flight risk insurance,” he’d explained officiously to Art Hammond, only to be answered with a blue streak of uniquely American invective. “We’ll discuss this after you get our people up to that bucket of bolts,” Hammond had exclaimed before slamming down the receiver.
“One kilometer, closing at two,” Penny calmly intoned. Knowing they needed as little drama as possible, she was showing her best radio manners. “All rates from now on will be in meters…point eight, closing at sixteen….closing at twelve...” With less than a half-mile separating them, the ATV had slowed down to a crawl. “Attitude looks good,” she said. “You’re rock-steady in their crosshairs.”
“Thanks,” Tom replied. “Don’t want you thinking I have a bad attitude.”
“Nobody likes a smartass in prox-ops. Your nugget didn’t tell you that?” she said, using an old slur for new pilots. Ryan’s one stint in the Shuttle simulators practically made him a veteran in this situation.
“Did I ever tell you how much I respect you senior citizens?” Ryan broke in. “I bask in your sagacious wisdom. Now if you’ll excuse us, I have to finish helping the Captain hold docking stations.”
“For which we’re all eternally grateful,” Wade interjected. “Now can you two hotshots get on with saving our skins?”
Ryan turned in his seat to face him. “Don’t worry, pal, we’re on it. Just take good notes, we’ll show you how it’s done.”
“Okay, knock it off up there,” Penny said seriously. “And ‘sagacious’ is way too big a word for a jarhead.” They were becoming too giddy for their own good. “Tom, that sucker’s going to come up quicker than you think. And you’ll feel it.”
Gentry looked over at his copilot and switched off the hot mic. “She’s not kidding, is she?”
Ryan shrugged his shoulders. “Beats me…I’m a nugget, remember? If you trust the sims, it’ll probably thump us good. We’ll know it’s there. Just thumb that trim paddle real gentle-like. Put too much spank on it and we’ll kick that tug right back out our rear end.”
“Point four, closing at eight,” her voice came back. “We can see your nozzles clear as day now, Tom. It’s in the bulls-eye.”
“Copy that…just waiting for their handshake.”
“Won’t have to wait long…point two clicks, closing at four…closing at three.”
Ryan’s eyes were locked on the TCAS. The diamond shape representing the tug was almost on top of them, now blinking an angry red as a horn sounded. “Resolution advisory,” he said, and reached down to disable the alarm that warned them of what it saw as an impending collision. “Master caution off.”
“One hundred meters, closing at two. Still right down the middle, boys.”
Behind them, the ATV’s thrusters spat again. Gingerly approaching the rear of the Clipper, ground controllers would get the final approach dead-center and let their tug drift into the engine. There was a slight overhang from the ship’s vertical stabilizers, which prevented the tug from firing its thrusters once they were in close. Otherwise it risked pushing against them like wind blowing a leaf.
“It’s all you now,” Ryan said, checking his watch. “Contact in…forty seconds.”
…
Denver
“Fifty meters, closing at point five...thirty meters,” Penny called, and turned to notice Charlie’s questioning stare. She answered him with a silent thumbs-up. He turned back to his own console, still not convinced this would work.
The Clipper filled the docking camera’s field of view as the tug’s floodlights shone straight down the center nozzle.
It grew steadily larger…then a shadow suddenly closed in from above. “Underneath your body flap,” she said. “Hold on.”
…
Austral Clipper
Tom saw Ryan’s hand hovering over the center engine control. “I’m on it, skipper,” he said, looking from the corner of his eye.
“Two meters,” Penny reported with a hint of excitement. Almost as she said it, they felt an alarming jolt from the tug’s impact. A grinding clang rattled up from behind them.
“Contact!” Tom exclaimed, smoothly thumbing the nose trim down to translate backward. He hadn’t expected to feel so surprised.
Ryan slammed up the nozzle controls and watched the display to see if it worked. “Capture,” he said, almost questioning his verdict. They couldn’t be sure just yet. The vanes had closed, but if they had translated backwards too hard the ATV might already be tumbling away from them.
All three men exchanged hopeful looks and waited. “Sure feels like we grabbed hold of something,” Tom said hopefully.
The empty hiss filling their headsets seemed to last forever. “Toulouse confirms capture,” Penny finally reported with evident relief. “They’re staring straight up your tailpipe, boys.”
“Great job!” Ryan exulted, punching him in the shoulder. “That was some flying! You should feel like a real astronaut now, skipper.”
Tom closed his eyes, rolled his neck, and exhaled deeply. He wished he could lie back against the headrest; a fruitless gesture in zero-G but he had yet to fully get his space legs. He’d rarely left the flight deck since the beginning of their ordeal. “I had a good instructor,” he finally said. “Thanks for talking me through it.”
“Uncle Sugar spent a lot of money on me in Houston, you know. Never thought I’d actually get to put any of it to work.”
“Everything happens for a reason. That time wasn’t wasted.”
“I’m just the nugget FO,” Ryan demurred. “I only work the gear and flap handles, remember?”
“We’re not out of the woods yet,” he said. “It’ll be time for you and Marcy to do the real work soon enough. Just hope I don’t crash us into our lifeboat out there,” he said, looking toward the horizon around which their safe port awaited.
“Eh, it’s big. They won’t notice a little bump.”
52
ISS
Simon Poole likewise had not expected to be this surprised. “You’re kidding—we actually got it?”
“Affirmative,” Max replied crisply. “You doubted our vehicle?”
“Not at all,” he laughed, “not at all.” He startled the German by thumping him on the back. If his feet hadn’t been restrained, Max probably would have bounced his head off the console. “Send our regards to your folks back home. Guess we need to get serious about prepping for visitors.”
He pushed away from a bulkhead and dove across the control module, straight through towards the common area. “All hands, prepare to receive boarders,” he bellowed, feeling like an old sailor again.
…
Denver
Penny leaned back and tugged off her headset. Grant hovered over her shoulder. “What do you think?”
She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palms. “I don’t know, Charlie. Not like they’ve got idiot lights that shout ‘capture’ at them.”
“You get a look at the specs
on that ATV before this?” he asked. The Europeans had started flying them a couple of years before she’d quit NASA.
“Got a briefing once but that was about it. I wasn’t interested in getting a slot on the station, so there wasn’t much need.”
They’d had precious little time to see for themselves, and had to trust the two space agencies. Both had nearly buried them with demands for information, though Penny had expected it...neither group cared much for last-minute improvising. “The mechanical engineers think our nozzle vanes will hold okay,” Grant finally said, “but I’ll feel better when they’re holed up on that cattle car.”
“Roger that,” she muttered. They’d only have once chance at shifting orbits. “A thousand things can happen when you light a rocket motor. Only one of them is good.”
53
Houston
Audrey wanted to get up and pace, stretch her legs, run around the room…anything but sit. She had to settle for hunching down and grabbing the equipment rack handles on her console, a common stress response in mission control. Looking around, it was clear she wasn’t the only one feeling it. Half the guys on her team were hanging on with death grips.
Tension mounted as the time neared to start approach vectors, and was compounded by their inability to do anything. If that had been their vehicle, her team would have been fully immersed. Instead they found themselves struggling to curb their instincts as frustrated spectators rather than participants. She made a mental note to not allow them to be put in such a helpless position again.
Beyond the rows of controllers, a clock above the big screen dispassionately counted down the seconds. This burn would be their only chance to match orbits with the station, and there was next to nothing anyone here could do about it. If they screwed up, any conceivable risk to the ISS would take the better part of a day to manifest itself. But it would guarantee the deaths of seven people she didn’t even know, and perhaps six more she did know.
It was all up to the Europeans now...along with two pilots she’d never met.
…
Austral Clipper
“Chronometers synched?” Tom asked. Timing would be crucial.
“Dialing in Houston’s clock now,” Ryan confirmed, one hand hovering over his keypad. “Three, two, one…hack,” he said, stabbing the screen with a flourish. Both were now counting down in concert with each other. “All set, skipper.”
Tom looked over the sequence of events with tired eyes. “Just in time. First retrograde burn in…three minutes.” He keyed his headset. “Denver, 501 checking in. You guys awake down there?”
Penny’s ever-steady voice answered. “Just waiting on you part-timers up there. We show you go for course correction. Don’t make a liar out of me.”
“We’re go, checklist complete,” he replied, then whispered at Ryan as he covered the microphone boom. “Assuming they didn’t forget anything.”
“501, didn’t copy your last. Say again?” she asked mockingly.
Agh! These mikes are sensitive, he thought with a frown. “Ah, Denver, 501 confirms go for retrograde burn. We were, um, talking about the Europeans.”
“That’s what I thought you said. Don’t worry, we’ve got you boys covered. This ain’t my first rodeo.”
That was surely the truth. “Sure could use you up here right now.”
“I’m as up there as can be, hot dog. You just don’t know it. The force is strong with me.”
“Not strong enough to will us back onto the ground,” he said with creeping fatigue, and felt a tickle across his scalp like before. He looked over at Ryan, who seemed not to notice anything weird. Need to let him take over and get some sleep, he thought. I’m getting punchy.
Static filled the air during a long pause. “I would if I could, hon. Lots of people want you back home.”
54
Denver
Penny’s watch was the only timepiece in the room that was set to local. It beeped quietly, letting her know it was time to make an important call. She picked up the receiver and dialed the Gentry’s private number in Castle Rock. She took great care to not disturb Elise’s routine.
“Hi,” she said cheerily. “Glad to see you made it home okay. How are you feeling?”
“Better today,” Elise said. “Comes and goes, you know?”
Thank God I don’t, Penny thought. “You know better than to ask me that. I wouldn’t presume to.”
“I know,” she sighed. “And we both appreciate that.” Casual, polite concern was not something she tolerated well. And like her husband, she could switch gears and get down to business quickly. Penny had always wondered which one of them brought that trait out in the other. “So where are they now? When I left yesterday it sounded like you had your hands full.” She had been determined to not pay attention to any news during the interlude.
“Let’s just say I’m going to owe Houston a lot of favors. They’re hitching a ride to the space station.”
Penny explained their plans to Elise with the news that her husband’s ship was already on its way to safe harbor. But something still wasn’t connecting with her: “That sounds wonderful, but how are you going to get them off? Can they connect…dock, whatever it is?”
“No, they can’t do that either,” Penny said, and described the rest.
“This is sounding like not such good news, then.”
“I know. But I have to tell you, I’ve run through scenarios like this back at NASA and have confidence in it,” she said, sounding like a cookie-cutter astronaut again. “It’s their only real choice. We can get four people out at once with those rescue balls, plus the two suited-up crewmembers.”
“I think that leaves one out in the cold,” Elise pointed out.
“We need one pilot in the cockpit to manage the pressurization cycles,” Penny said, rather apologetically.
She still didn’t like it, but could at least see the logic. “So everyone else gets out, and they bring a suit or one of those hamster ball things back for whoever’s left behind?” She didn’t have to guess who that would be. The captain would always be the last one out.
“That’s about the size of it, hon.”
…
Austral Clipper
The brief return of gravity had been a welcome sensation. As the tug pushed hard against them, everyone happily found they could lie back against their seats once more. The sense of relief was palpable as the force drove home the feeling that they were at last going somewhere, instead of hopelessly freefalling.
“Passing ascending node...shutdown in five...four…three…two…one,” Ryan said evenly. Main engine cutoff occurred on cue, and the feeling of gravity once again slipped away. Earth still rolled overhead against bottomless dark, though it was more uniformly distant now that the ATV had circularized their orbit.
“How’d our numbers look down there?” Tom asked. After Penny’s experience on the Block II plane, they had only dared turn on one flight computer.
“Stand by…they’re looking at residuals now,” Penny said, and came back after a few moments. “Okay boys, here’s the verdict…perigee three forty-four, apogee three fifty-six decimal two. Inclination five-one decimal six, point two relative to ISS. Good enough for now.”
“Sweetness,” Ryan said, to no one in particular. “That at least gets us in the same zip code.”
“Felt good up here,” Tom replied. “Please send our regards to the wizards in France.” He pulled his headset off and rubbed his temples. “Thank goodness. They only had enough prop to try this once.”
Ryan nodded. “Changing altitude doesn’t take much if you time the burns right, but plane changes are a killer. Shuttle never could carry its full capacity up here, all because we had to go and partner with the Russkies.”
Wade had been observing silently from the jumpseat. “Why the political critique?” he challenged. “How is that relevant?”
“Because the station was really designed by politicians,” Ryan replied, perhaps too sharply. “They
wanted to make a big show out of partnering with old adversaries, and reworked the whole design based on old Mir modules. The Russian launch site is down there in Kazakhstan,” he emphasized with a jerk of a thumb as West Asia conveniently rolled over the horizon.
“High latitudes make that much difference?”
“Huge. It’s a lot easier to launch from the inclination you want to end up at, instead of doing what we just did.”
“All about weight, like any other kind of flying,” Tom added. “Makes more sense if you think of it as added distance...which it is, really. You need more propellant for the climb uphill, so there’s less payload margin. And all so some empty-headed politicians could feel like they’d accomplished something important.”
“Sounds like someone has an axe to grind,” Wade said.
“Maybe,” he admitted. Tom had come close to becoming an astronaut himself, but ultimately decided it wasn’t worth it. He often wished his old friend, Penny’s first husband, had followed his lead. The same kind of top-down mandates that he’d just railed against had ultimately led to the disastrous Orion 1 mission six years ago. “You know, I saw a Saturn V launch when I was a kid. Now that was a space program. If Congress is going to throw my tax money down a hole anyway, that would be the particular one I choose.”
Wade pointed toward the horizon. “Right now I’m content with the one waiting for us out there, half Russian or not.”
Tom laughed. “Touché.”
55
ISS
Poole searched for any sign of the approaching spaceplane. As big as it was, he had expected to find it by now. He scanned the region of space where it should have appeared, not looking directly in one spot for very long, allowing his night vision to tease out pinpricks of light he might otherwise miss.
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