Perigee

by Patrick Chiles

  Hammond picked up his phone and speed-dialed the control center. “It’s done, Charlie,” he said in a voice leaden with exhaustion. “The spacecraft is clean.”

  …

  Grant hung up the phone and turned to the control stations. “Team, I need a final check, once around the horn.”

  “Recovery teams are in position at primary and secondary sites, Charlie,” said maintenance.

  “Weather at Edwards is VMC. Clouds scattered at twenty-five thousand, visibility unlimited, winds light and variable,” dispatch reported. “Moses Lake reports ceiling twelve thousand broken, visibility six miles, winds one-eight-zero at five knots.”

  “Positive comm with the crew. Houston has their visual and IR tracking feeds linked to our network,” Penny said from her ‘CapCom’ station. “Telemetry will go live when they power up the plane.”

  “Set retro burn countdown clock for three hours, thirty-eight minutes…mark,” Grant said. “Showtime, gang.”

  76

  ISS

  Ryan was back in the hab module, struggling once more with the bright orange emergency spacesuit. Wade was already in the airlock being assisted by Sergei, who by now was adept at donning the cumbersome garments in zero-g.

  It was now Marcy’s turn to help him. She fussed with the metal locking collar around his neck before pulling the helmet down over his ears. “Hang on, here it comes,” she said, trying to bring it down swiftly. The headphones had gotten painfully hung up on his ears the last time.

  She managed to get it down with one tug and locked it in place. “There you are, looking like a real spaceman,” she said admiringly. “Now let me see your backpack.”

  “You’re turning into an old hand at this,” he said as she effortlessly spun him around.

  “Hush. I’m working.”

  “Nice of Poole to top off our O2 tanks,” he said as she continued to check him over.

  “Even nicer of him to look the other way while Max does our dirty work,” she said, turning him back to face her. “You’re all set.”

  “Thanks Marcy,” Ryan said. “Couldn’t have done this without you.”

  “I owed you one anyway. Just help us get Tom home, all right?”

  “Will do. I’ll try not to break anything else, either.”

  “That includes you, hotshot. We’re all counting on you. I’m counting on you. Be safe…please,” she implored, and pulled him into a tight hug. “I’ll see you in three weeks.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise,” Marcy said, and planted a kiss on his cheek before locking down the visor.

  …

  The olive-green Russian ship approached slowly and came to a stop two kilometers away, beyond the opposite wing of the station. Ryan and Wade stayed in the airlock as Max locked down the remote box, preparing to carry them over to 501.

  “Final pressure check?” Max asked.

  They checked each other’s backpack panels. “Both holding steady,” Ryan said. “Wade’s actually a little higher.”

  “I feel better already,” Wade said as he tugged at his suit. “The guest gets the extra O2, huh?”

  “That’s us—‘Service Above and Beyond’,” Ryan replied, aping their advertising slogan. “You don’t seem happy with the fit.”

  Wade looked up from his chest fittings on the surprisingly trim garment. “It’s almost like a diving dry-suit. You sure this really works?”

  “I’d rather wear one of those than this monster,” Max observed helpfully. He was in the standard-issue white ISS mobility suit, a comparatively large and cumbersome affair. “You’ll be able to work a lot better than I can.”

  Looking over Max’s bulky suit, Ryan became concerned. “Can you really run the remote in that get-up?”

  Max extended his hands and wiggled his fingers. “Of course.”

  “Just make sure you’re on the ball or this’ll be a real short trip,” Ryan said seriously. “It’s on, ladies.”

  …

  Denver

  Their video feed from the Station went live just as Houston called in.

  “Go ahead, Houston,” Penny answered. “We’re all standing by here.”

  “We’re go for recovery EVA, Denver,” Audrey said. “Non-essential personnel are all secured aboard the Soyuz escape vehicles. Both Polaris spacewalkers are prepped and their suits are holding pressure in vacuum. Our ‘walker is ready on the Kibo arm,” she said, referring to a small robot arm on the Japanese module. Max would ride it over to Austral Clipper’s entry, with the others in tow.

  “Sorry for the inconvenience, Houston. We appreciate your assistance,” Penny said, giving their ‘official’ reply. It was no small matter to stage another ad-hoc spacewalk, even for the purpose of recovering Tom’s remains. Having their ship blocking a much-needed supply mission gave them necessary cover for the rest. “Please tell them to be careful,” she added. “We’re all counting on them.”

  …

  ISS

  “Comm check,” they heard Max call over their headsets. Both men crouched against opposite sides of the open airlock as he steadied himself on a foothold attached to a manipulator arm like the one that held fast to Austral Clipper’s tug.

  “Ryan’s up.”

  “Wade’s up.”

  “Very good,” he answered. “I’m coming back with the safety tethers now.”

  They saw him emerge from the blackness, bright white, with safety lines in his hands. They each grabbed a tether and clipped it to d-ring harnesses on their waists.

  “Good. Now, push off gently towards me. Ryan first.”

  A slight push of the toes sent Ryan drifting off, and Max easily caught him with one hand.

  “Excellent. Now Wade...remember, you still have mass, so don’t push too hard.”

  Grateful for the reminder, Wade barely flexed his knees and nevertheless went sailing out the airlock. It was easy to forget that he could still generate a lot of momentum, but Max was prepared and caught him roughly.

  The three of them floated together, arms interlocked, with Max firmly attached to the robot arm. “We’re ready to transfer, Renee,” he said. His companions each had about four hours’ worth of breathable air in their backpacks, and he knew they’d need most of it for their return.

  From inside, Watson began to slowly swing them out towards the spaceplane. Ryan knew where they needed to be, and guided her in.

  “Left about two feet. That’s good. Keep bringing us straight in now,” he said calmly. “And…stop.”

  She had brought them within arm’s length of the main cabin door. The simple mechanical linkage would be easy enough to open; with the ship powered down, it was their only way in.

  “See that big handle in the center?” Ryan pointed out to Max. “Just grab either side, pull it towards you, and turn clockwise.” Being secured to the arm, Max was the only one who would be able to twist it without tumbling in the opposite direction.

  The lever wouldn’t budge. Lifting his gold sun visor, he gave Ryan a skeptical glance.

  “Don’t worry,” Ryan assured him. “They’re always like that.”

  “In space?” he asked. “Long-term exposure has some interesting metallurgical effects. Cold-welding, for instance.”

  “You got me there,” Ryan admitted. “Just have to keep trying.”

  “I have a better idea,” Max said, firming his grip on the handle. “Renee, please translate back slightly. About one half-meter.”

  He held tight as she pulled them back with the arm, and the latch swung free. Turning it, he let go and pushed the door inward along its track.

  “Nice work,” Wade observed.

  “We improvise a lot up here,” he explained. “You would not believe it sometimes.”

  “After this week, there’s not much I wouldn’t believe,” Ryan said, pushing off into the open door. Using the inside latch as a tie down, he carefully lashed another safety line to it. “All right, I’m secure.”

  Max slipped his boots free
of their foothold, pulling himself and Wade into the ship. It felt like the morgue it had become. With no power, the only light came from the unfiltered glare of the sun which cast deep shadows into the darkened cabin.

  Ryan was already quickly pulling himself toward an electrical panel. “I can turn on the emergency lights from here,” he said, “but that’s it. Can’t put power on until we get in the cockpit.”

  “And you’re certain we can get in?” Wade asked, concerned about the cockpit security door.

  “It’ll work,” Ryan replied. “Once the power is gone, the lock assumes we’re shut down and resets itself. I should be able to open it from outside.” Recessed lighting along the ceiling came alive as he activated the batteries, bringing some welcome warmth back to the cabin.

  “Never thought I’d be glad to see this place again,” Wade said.

  “We’re not done yet,” Ryan answered grimly as he sifted through a storage compartment, sending blankets and other random items drifting by.

  “There it is,” he finally said, pulling out a thick rubberized bag. “One more thing we hope never gets used in flight. You ready to do this?” he asked Wade.

  “Yeah, I’m good,” he gulped. “Even if we can’t pull off the rest, I don’t want to just leave him up here any more than you do. Wouldn’t be right.”

  “I’m with you,” Ryan agreed as he worked the cockpit latch. “But I’m not going to enjoy this.”

  He opened the door and drifted inside.

  77

  Austral Clipper

  Tom had fortunately spent his final moments in the sleeping bag they had rigged days earlier. Rigor mortis had long since set in, and it otherwise would have made their work impossible. They proceeded silently, carefully finding footing on the embedded Velcro so as to not go tumbling around during an already difficult task. They gently zipped him up and carried him back to the cargo deck, carefully attaching the bag to the tether. Each remained for a few moments to quietly pay their respects before Max pulled him across.

  You did it, skipper, Ryan thought. You got us all out safely. Now it’s up to us to get you home.

  I’m already there, he imagined the reply.

  “I’m taking care of them as best I can,” Ryan whispered as he opened the big door. “Let’s hope this doesn’t flush it all down the drain.”

  …

  Emerging from the hatch, Ryan gave Max a thumbs-up to signal he was ready to proceed with the rest of their plan.

  He drifted into the cockpit and settled into the left seat with some hesitation, considering what had transpired to lead him here. Wade had more eagerly strapped in to the copilot’s seat and was already turning through the laminated quick-reference book, getting himself familiar with the ship and its controls.

  The burden of command weighed heavier than he anticipated. The fate of their company, his friends…all rested on his shoulders now. There were no passengers aboard, just a willing copilot by his side. The guy may not be fully checked out but Ryan wasn’t about to call him an amateur, either.

  As the panel lights came on, both men plugged their suit umbilical cords into the ship’s life support and would breathe from its emergency system now.

  Wade had been observing Ryan in silence for several minutes. “My turn to ask now. Are you ready to do this?”

  His face showed grim determination. “You’d better believe it. I want to go home,” he said, pushing the microphone switch. “Max, we’re ready. You all set out there?”

  “Affirmative. I am back on the footrest.”

  Satisfied, Hunter scanned the primary flight displays. “We’ll have full power soon. There’s enough juice to run critical systems through retro burn and re-entry,” he said, and noted in relief that Wade was still intently studying their flight manual. “Any questions?”

  “Are you for real?” Wade snorted. “I don’t even have that much fixed-wing time, other than warming the right seat in someone else’s airplane.”

  “So kind of like this?”

  He nodded, smiling. “Yeah, kind of like this.”

  “I’d say you’re ready then. Critical procedures have red tabs: re-entry and no-power landing. You’ll find that one in the ‘Non-Normal’ section,” he added wryly.

  “Figured as much,” Wade replied. This was definitely ‘non-normal’. “So the re-entry profile is no different?”

  “Oh, it’s different all right. You won’t find anything in there about the skip profile we’re about to fly. That’s just to bleed off energy a little more slowly, so we don’t take all that compression heating at once. But setting up for it is the same as normal. I’m just going to set alpha a couple of degrees lower,” he said, referring to their angle of attack.

  “You guys fly skipping trajectories on the longer legs anyway, right? So this shouldn’t be that different?” Wade asked hopefully. The procedure transmitted from Denver would enable them to glance off the upper atmosphere twice, at a shallow enough angle to skip back into space. It would absorb some of their velocity and cool them down after some brief heating. The next pass would get them fully back into the atmosphere at something closer to their normal re-entry speed.

  “Yes and no,” Hunter said. “Yeah, we let her settle back in the atmosphere and hop back out, but that’s with thrust coming up from idle. This’ll be a tad dicey with no power. We’re light enough, but our angles need to be dead-center or we sink right down.”

  “There you go again. I was just starting to feel okay about this.”

  “Let me finish the power-on checklist, then we’ll brief the re-entry procedure. That’ll make you feel like a pilot again.”

  “You’re putting an awful lot of faith in my abilities,” Wade observed dourly.

  “I just hope we don’t get ramp-checked,” he joked. FAA inspectors could randomly walk up to any plane and quiz the flight crew. “Might get in trouble if someone finds out I let you play copilot.”

  78

  Denver

  Arthur Hammond strode to the front of the control room and stood before the wall screens. Clasping his hands behind his back, he looked over the group of anxious controllers. The normal hum of activity became absolutely quiet.

  He coughed, clearing his throat.

  “Reports of my demise,” he said, “have been greatly exaggerated.” They rewarded him with anxious laughter.

  “So let’s cut the crap. You’ve all no doubt heard the rumors that this whole affair has put the company in trouble...well, they’re mostly true,” he said, pausing to see that he had indeed captured their full attention. “It would help our case greatly if we could get that plane back on the ground. We have the opportunity to do just that. So we’re going to ‘borrow’ the European tug for the thrust needed to de-orbit. It’ll happen when they move away from the docking node to make room for that Russian supply ship, and the retro burn will occur over our East Coast. They’ll do two atmospheric skips over about three-quarters of an orbit to land on the West Coast ninety minutes later.”

  The room had grown unusually quiet. “I know a lot of this is beyond your experience. So stay focused and don’t be afraid to speak up if you see anything turning sour...Charlie?”

  Grant looked to each member of their small re-entry team. Penny gave a thumbs-up to confirm that Houston was still playing ball. “We’re go.”

  “Very well,” Hammond said, smoothing his tie. “Let’s bring them home.”

  …

  Austral Clipper

  “Make sure those shades are down tight,” Ryan said, tugging at the window coverings. “We can’t let any light out. If the wrong people downstairs see we’ve got power on, it’s all over.”

  “Got it,” Wade grunted. He was struggling with the stiff, non-reflective fabric on his side of the cockpit. “What’s this made of, anyway? Kevlar?”

  “Something like that,” Hunter confirmed. “We tend to be kind of hard on stuff flying the line. The trick is to be smarter than the window shade.”

  “The p
ressure gloves don’t make it any easier…” Wade said, tugging at the locking straps. “There…I think I’ve got the secret handshake figured out.”

  The cockpit windows were now almost opaque; the flight deck seemed noticeably smaller now that its commanding view was gone. Thick frost that had gathered over the windows during the past week began to retreat from the returning warmth as sunlight peeked around the fabric coverings.

  “They roll up easier, right?” Wade asked, knowing they’d have to be able to see well enough to maneuver away.

  “You’d better believe it. Just make sure you don’t have anything important hanging in the breeze when you release those straps.”

  Wade laughed, looking at his spacesuit-clad arms and legs. “Not likely.”

  Ryan checked the clock on the FMC: twenty minutes until the Progress ship would begin final approach. “All right then, let’s brief the re-entry procedure. Still got your copy?” he asked.

  Wade tapped the checklist clipped on the yoke in front of him. “Got it.”

  “We bring up full systems on battery power in nineteen minutes, right before they release the manipulator arm. Retract the shades and shut the main door. You’ll go through some motions out there in the cargo deck until then. Make a show of pulling all our gear together. When that door starts coming down, get your butt back in here, pronto.”

  “So I’m a diversion?”

  “Absolutely. Once they see our lights come on, they’ll know something’s up. Soon as you’re in, we push off with the starboard thrusters. A two-second pulse should do it. Max will punch the ATV main engines at twenty-eight minutes. We’ll be in night side by then, so that’ll be a real show.”

  “And the first skip?”

  Hunter looked at his checklist. “Twenty-three minutes after that. Soon as the retro burn is done, Max will retract the docking ring and we open the number two exhaust vanes. We’ll do another two-second forward translation to pull away, and he’ll use the remaining prop to push it clear.”