Rocket! An Ell Donsaii story #4)

by Dahners, Laurence

  Slager wondered briefly at the fact he was following this unknown person’s instructions without question. He reminded himself that this unknown person had apparently just saved his life. For a little while anyway.

  Anya said, “Vat in all da hells is dat ting?”

  Shrugging, Taussan turned toward her, “We don’t know. It just showed up and started tapping on the window,” he jerked a thumb toward the observation window.

  Anya said incredulously, “And how did it get in here?”

  “We opened the airlock and it flew itself in.”

  Anya blinked slowly several times, “Are you crazy Emil? You don’ even know what it eez!”

  Taussan smiled lazily and shrugged his shoulders lazily, “What did we have to lose, Anya?”

  Anya blinked owlishly at Taussan several more times, then pivoted her head back to watch Slager unscrewing the last few screws. “How did it get here?” she asked musingly, not really expecting anyone to answer.

  The last screw came out and Slager tried to pull the two halves of the rocket apart. They wouldn’t come. He pulled the Phillips tip off the screwdriver and chose a blade screwdriver tip which he stuck into a crack between the two sides. He pried and twisted. The cover popped off and sailed lazily across the module. Anya caught it.

  Slager had been expecting to see little tanks but instead he found himself looking at a row of nozzles with different thread fittings on them! What the hell! He said, “The cover’s off.”

  The little voice said, “Sorry sir, it’s hard to understand you. I hear people speaking in the background and can’t understand them at all. I think you have to put your face near the nozzle for me to hear.”

  Nozzle? He thought. It did seem like her voice was coming from one of the nozzles that had been outgassing oxygen earlier. But why communicate through what appeared to be an attitude thruster? He pulled the rocket closer to his face and said, “The cover is off. I see a row of threaded nozzles.”

  “Yes sir! What do you need the most? Water? Food? Oxygen?”

  Slager pulled his head back in astonishment, torn between wanting to ask questions and wanting to get at whatever this thing had inside it. His forehead creased as he realized that it had already blown far more oxygen into the station than he would have ever believed it could contain. “Water,” he croaked. The mere question had made him feel parched. The Station’s oxygen generators hydrolysed water to make oxygen, so running out of oxygen meant they had already run out of water. They’d been on low water rations for quite a while, trying to conserve it to have enough oxygen.

  “OK sir,” the tinny little voice said, “We’re set up to deliver water through the nozzle that looks like an ordinary hose bib. We don’t want it to spray water into your module so we’ll wait for you to hook it up to something to contain the water. We didn’t know what kind of connection you would normally use to fill your tanks? If the hose bib won’t work, we can put the water through one of the other nozzles?”

  Taussan frowned. There couldn’t be more than a half a liter of water in that cylinder. He pulled out a medium sized plastic bag with a drinking nipple on one end and an opening on the other. They were normally used for drinking liquids so that the liquids wouldn’t spill into the weightless environment. He slid the opening over the hose bib and used his fingers to close the opening around the bib. Moving his face closer to the rocket he said, “OK, turn on the water.”

  Water began blasting out of the hose bib, like a household spigot turned suddenly full blast. His bag, almost immediately full, slipped off the bib as he shouted “Stop!” A spray of small globules and one large one floated away from the rocket into the free fall environment of the module as the astronauts choked out laughter and amazement. Taussan sealed off the bag and grabbed another. The astronauts fell to catching and sucking up free floating globules with their mouths, though Anya pulled her straw out of her pocket and used it. Seeing her, Slager also pulled out a straw and stuck it in the big globule floating by his head. He drank to his heart’s content. As the laughing died down he could hear the small tinny voice from the rocket saying, “What happened! Are you OK?”

  He pulled the rocket nearer and said, “Yes, yes, we’re fine. We just didn’t think there could be that much water in this thing.” He eyed the huge globule Taussan had inserted his straw into. The globule certainly consisted of a larger volume of water than the rocket could possibly have contained! “How did you do it? Water’s supposed to be incompressible!”

  “Sorry sir! That’s probably quite a mess up there in a weightless environment.”

  “Yeah, well, we’re experienced with weightless messes.” He saw Jim Sasson uncoiling a small vacuum hose to start sucking up the floating water. “Please. How did you get that much water in this thing? You’re breaking some physical laws as near as I can tell.”

  The tiny voice said, “Oh, sorry sir. The water isn’t in the rocket.” All the astronauts fell silent to listen to her explanation. She continued, “The hose bib has a ‘port’ behind it that connects it to a big tank of distilled water here in North Carolina. You do need distilled water for the oxygen generators right?”

  Confusion crossed the expectant faces hanging at all angles around Slager. He blinked several times. “Port?” he said, did she just say that that bib is connected to a tank in North Carolina? “I’m afraid we didn’t understand that last part?”

  “It’s like the PGR Comm chips sir. It’s a ‘quantum entangled’ port that connects the bib you have there, to a water tank here in North Carolina, through the same 5th dimension the PGR chips use.”

  A confused and excited babble exploded from the surrounding astronauts.

  Slager’s brows drew together, he pulled the rocket close as if he were speaking into a microphone. “Did you say ‘Ell Donsaii’?”

  The tinny voice replied, “Yes sir.”

  “The physicist, not the gymnast?”

  “Physicist, gymnast—same person sir. Though I only have an undergraduate degree in physics.”

  “You’re… You’re the girl that won the Olympics?”

  “No. No sir. Only some gymnastic events sir.”

  Sugi Nishikawa thumped Slager’s shoulder, “She said she could send us food! I’m starving!”

  Slager, feeling like his head was spinning, relayed the request.

  “Yes sir. We can send food. But we aren’t very well prepared for it yet. It needs to be something we can push through a 10mm diameter hole that won’t get loose and float all around in your weightless environment. So we’re thinking pasty foods? I brought in a couple of big tubs of peanut butter? If you have suggestions for other foods we can put through without messing up the station I can send someone out to buy some.”

  Sugi said, “I’d kill for some peanut butter right now!”

  The tinny voice said, “Yes Ma’am, I heard that. Here comes some peanut butter.”

  To the astonishment of the group of astronauts, the end of what had looked like a “stubbed out” pipe in the row of nozzles turned dark as the people on the ground activated the port on the disk covering the “stub.” Then it turned brown as peanut butter started extruding from it in fits and starts—as if someone was pushing it in the other end with a spatula (which they were). Sugi darted a hand out and snatched a finger-full that she stuck in her mouth. “Mmmm!” she literally moaned.

  Chapter Eight

  The vid crews were setting up cameras in the Oval Office. One of President Teller’s staff came into his study and handed him a slate with the script for his speech opened on it. Teller turned to NASA Director James Epaulding and said, “Do we know for sure that they’re already dead Jim?”

  “Uh, no sir. Telemetry showed the oxygen concentration started falling about sixty minutes ago telling us that the generator had run out of water. Even though the Station holds a pretty large volume of air, they can’t have long to go. It’s possible that they might have some ‘oxygen candles’ or pressure bottles in the emergency locker
that we don’t know about.”

  “You don’t have them on the line?”

  “Uh, no sir. That seemed like it would be pretty morbid. The Station crew expressed a desire for privacy in their final moments. They did record some brave final words to be shared with the world after they’re gone.”

  The President sighed, “Crap! What an awful thing.” He looked over at his Science Advisor, Chip Horton, who nodded gravely. “How will we know for sure?”

  “Telemetry will show us when the oxygen level is too low to sustain life. We expect that to be within the hour and well before your scheduled broadcast. Let me check what it is now.” He looked up as he spoke to his AI.

  He frowned, “What?”

  He turned to the President, “The oxygen level is back up. In fact right now it’s higher than normal. They must have had an ‘oxygen candle’ or a pressure bottle or something we didn’t know about and used it to boost their levels for a while. We may need to reschedule the broadcast.”

  The President’s secretary whispered “OK” and looked up at the ceiling as she listened to a message through her AI. She blanched and darted a glance at the President. “Sir… Dr. Slager… the, uh, Space Station commander is asking to speak to you.”

  Teller’s stomach roiled. He reached into his pocket for a Tums. Talk about a “dead man walking.” He didn’t want to talk to this man who was about to die anymore than the next person. He grimaced; I didn’t take this job so that I could shirk the tough stuff. “OK, put him on,” he said, suppressing a sigh.

  “Mr. President?” He heard a voice say.

  “Yes Dr. Slager? I would like to express my sympathies in these bleak hours.”

  “Tell Chip Horton he really ought to answer his calls! Can you shift us to a video screen so we can have a real conversation?”

  “Do as he asked, Cindy,” Teller said to his AI. The large video screen on the other side of the study popped to life showing the eleven current astronauts floating in the main module, weightlessness evident in that they were all oriented differently. Teller noted with astonishment that they looked like they were in good moods. Slager, right side up and close to the camera actually had a huge smile on his face. Teller said, “What’s this about Chip’s calls?”

  Slager raised an eyebrow, “He’s had his AI blocking all calls except those from NASA for hours now.” Seeing Horton near the President he said, “Hey Chip, you know a young lady named Ell Donsaii?”

  Horton glanced at Teller and Epaulding in puzzlement, then back at the screen. He wondered if the astronauts were drunk from oxygen deprivation? Were he and the people in the President’s study about to watch the astronauts die on screen? To Slager he said, “Yes I do. Brilliant young woman.”

  “You don’t know the half of it. Says you promised her she could call you any time but she’s been locked out by your AI for the past few hours. Couldn’t get anyone at NASA to listen to her either Jim,” Slager said, focusing on Epaulding.

  Horton said, “Uh, OK Dr. Slager. What does she…” Need? Want? Have to do with why you’re calling? Horton couldn’t imagine what Donsaii had to do with the Space Station and the dying astronauts. He did remember her talking about satellites and her technology a little back last year. But, much as he respected the young lady, her claims had seemed entirely too outrageous. He squinted as he realized he had mostly erased that conversation from his memory.

  Slager looked at him exasperatedly, “Chip! Tell your AI to connect the young lady into our conversation!”

  “Uh, OK.”

  A window popped open on the big screen. It moved Slager and the other astronauts to one side. The slender young lady on the screen was in three quarter profile and was evidently speaking into some kind of small microphone she was holding in front of her mouth. A number of other people were in the background. She was saying, “Dr. Slager, please! I don’t have to be part of your conversation with the White House! Just ask NASA to let us connect to you over an audio video channel so we can hear better and especially so we can visualize the connection problems you’re having…”

  President Teller cleared his throat, “You’re already part of the conversation with the White House Ms. Donsaii. Dr. Slager feels it is very important that we speak with you?” Though for the life of him he couldn’t see why?

  “Oh!” She turned to face the camera, which evidently was on a screen beside her, because her eyes seemed to take all of them in. She blushed and came to attention. “Excuse me sir. I’m just trying to help…” her voice trailed off.

  Teller marveled again at how pretty the young lady was. He shook his head. “Do you need something?” And just why do you have a crew of dying astronauts on the Space Station putting your calls through for you?

  “Uh, yes sir. We need an audio video channel to the Space Station so we can troubleshoot their port hookups…”

  Epaulding had turned to the President, “Sir, perhaps I could take her call about a ‘channel to the Station’ down the hall while you talk to the crew?” He raised his eyebrows and jerked his head to the side.

  Slager barked a laugh, “Jim, do not try to pawn this young lady off. She’s just saved the Space Station for you!” His voice rasped, “She’s saved all our lives too, for which we’ll be forever in her debt.”

  President Teller felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

  The astronauts hanging around Slager said, “Hear, hear.”

  Part Two

  Chapter One

  President Teller drew a deep breath and looked Ell in the eye. “Ms. Donsaii, your country once again finds itself in your debt.”

  “Sir, I just got lucky in finding this ‘port technology’ and realizing it might help the crew of the Station. These people around me are the ones that actually made it all work. I can’t emphasize enough what a great team they’ve been. They willingly put in exhausting hours once it became evident that we might be able to help the astronauts.”

  Teller thought to himself. What a leader! Willingly spreading the credit she could claim herself to her team. Out loud he said, “What can we do for you?”

  “Oh! We don’t need anything… But… if you don’t mind…”

  “What?”

  “It would be helpful if this technology and our role in the rescue were kept confidential for a while?”

  “My goodness! Why?”

  “We don’t really understand what we’re doing very well yet and have only just applied for patent protection. I’m afraid that if this becomes public right away we’ll be besieged with attention that will prevent our achieving a better understanding of what we’re doing and what the safety issues might be.”

  Teller shrugged and his eyes swept the room. “OK. We’ll keep it a secret for now.” He looked at the screen where the astronauts were still visible. “Dr. Slager, would your people also be willing to keep it a secret for a while?”

  Slager glanced around at the other astronauts, “I think we’d be willing to do almost anything that young lady asked of us?”

  Heads nodded all around the crew of the Station.

  ***

  Cape Canaveral—People who had gathered here for a vigil honoring the astronauts expressed ecstatic relief when the news broke that a clandestine relief mission had extended the survival of the astronauts on the Station. Speculation as to the nature of the undisclosed relief mission is rampant. The most commonly accepted view is that the Department of Defense launched one of its “black” experimental craft with…

  Holding up his hamburger, Ben called out, “Brian, you should give up that career as a machinist—open a restaurant and get rich!”

  Brian lifted his spatula in salute. Reaching back to the grill to turn a couple of pieces of chicken, he said, “You should give up the micromanipulation career and start blogging as a restaurant critic.” He raised an eyebrow at Ben. “You do know great food when you taste it.”

  After Friday’s rescue of the Station they’d spent a tumultuous Friday evening and Satu
rday morning straightening out how to supply the station properly with water. This had culminated with the launch of another rocket which had two of their new 50mm diameter ports. Then they passed the correct fittings and hoses to connect their “hose bib” to the Station’s water holding tanks through those ports. At about two inches the ports were plenty big enough for the hoses. They’d also sent through a bunch of PGR chips so the astronauts could be directly connected to the net through their AIs. With them connected D5R could easily talk to the people on the ISS. Once the crew of the station was temporarily safe, Ell insisted that everyone at D5R go home Saturday afternoon to get some well-deserved rest. Then to celebrate, Ell had invited the D5R team out for a Sunday afternoon cookout at her farm. She’d had Amy arrange a caterer but when Brian found out she was using a caterer he’d pitched a fit, insisting that it was an insult to his skills as a “master griller.” They’d finally compromised by having Brian grill the meats and the caterer bring everything else. He certainly had grilling down to an art.

  Ell had had a hamburger, a drumstick, some potato salad and was dishing herself some blackberry cobbler with ice cream. Ben said, “Whoa, little lady! You keep eating like that and you’re gonna be as big as Brian there.”

  Roger laughed, “She’s been eating that way as long as I’ve known her. Don’t know where she puts it all.”

  “I used to think she must be bulimic.” Amy said.

  Ell rolled her eyes, “I just have a fast metabolism guys.”

  Viv asked, “Are you one of those exercise freaks who runs ten miles before breakfast every day?”