by Bonnie Doran
The flight surgeon shook her head. “They don’t have the drugs on board. I already considered that possibility.”
“What would sleeping pills get us?”
“Maybe half a day.”
Murmurs and bickering filled the room. Dan rubbed his stinging eyes.
“Folks,” Steve bellowed. “We need some focus here. The ISS crew has enough oxygen for only fifteen and a half days. It’s pocket change compared to the bankroll we need.”
“So what about the Russians? Can’t they do anything?” The ISS geek blew his nose.
The Russian-American liaison shook his head. “Nyet. They cannot launch.”
Steve slapped the table. “Six astronauts’ lives are on the line.”
The Russian raised his voice. “We could not anticipate problem—”
“Well, it happened.” Steve held his pencil in a death grip. “I’m sorry, Nikolai. I know your government did its best. We’ll find another way.”
Nikolai inclined his head.
Rubbing his neck, Steve stood. “Let’s take a break. Ten minutes.” He motioned to his assistant. “Arrange for sandwiches and coffee. It’s going to be a long meeting.”
They filed out of the room, the group unusually silent. Dan exited, trying to walk out the stiffness in his legs. He sent up another prayer for the astronauts. Please, Lord. We need something. Anything. He clenched his fists. They had to come up with a rescue plan, no matter what it took.
Dan and the others returned to the conference table. Charlie, the director of NASA, had joined them and occupied Dan’s usual seat. He took a chair at the other end of the table, wanting to disengage from the growing despair. He hoped for good news but dreaded the announcement Charlie would likely make. He tensed.
Murmurings became a buzz of agitated hornets. Charlie’s voice raised above the din as he reconvened the meeting. “The NASA board has decided on a course of action. After talking with Steve, we believe there’s no other option. We launch Valiant in twelve days.”
Dan stared at him. “Twelve days? You’re moving it up from a month to twelve days?” The man was talking miracles. Dan’s resolve hardened. If it could rescue his friends—and Hildi—he’d jump off a cliff without a parachute.
The others shook their heads.
“We can do it,” Charlie insisted. “She’s on her way to the launch pad and will be fueled ASAP. Every flight technician is working around the clock.”
Nikolai smiled. “Russia would be happy to provide its finest engineers.”
Charlie nodded. “Thank you, Nikolai.”
Dan drummed his fingers on the table as if the rhythm could help him think. He and Shorty were here at Johnson, but Dave and Jim were in Alabama. The four of them hadn’t had enough simulation time together. He wasn’t comfortable with the idea of rushing the launch, but they’d make it work. They had to. In spite of the dire circumstances, his heart leaped in anticipation. He’d be in space sooner than he’d hoped.
Geek scowled. “You’re forgetting the damage to our docking bay. The patch Joe made is already under stress, and the last thing we need is more oxygen loss. Joe assures me they have the materials on board, but whether it will hold—”
Charlie pounded a fist on the table then turned to Steve. “Tell the station to go EVA and repair the damage. We need that fix before the patch fails.” He huffed a breath, glanced around the room, and stood. “We can do this, people. So let’s get to it.”
As Dan started to leave, Steve gripped his shoulder. “We need to talk.” Dan nodded as the rest of the team filed through the door. Charlie also remained.
Steve’s eyes bored into his. “Dan, we can’t take the full crew of Valiant. We’ll need extra room for oxygen supplies.”
Dan swallowed. Among the four astronauts for the mission, his position was the most expendable. Everyone cross-trained for a mission. Shorty, Jim, and Dave could easily cover the job.
“I understand, sir.” Those were the hardest words he’d ever uttered. Left behind like the one kid not chosen on a baseball team. Without experience with the Rigel series under his belt, he’d never qualify for the moon. But it was a small price to pay for Hildi’s rescue. “I’ll do my best to see the others are ready on time. I assume you’d like me to concentrate on their training?”
“You misunderstand me. You’ll keep your assignment as the pilot of Valiant, and Shorty will keep his as commander.” Steve’s stare bore into his like a laser. “The two of you are it. We can’t afford any more weight.”
The implications slammed into Dan. His jaw dropped before he regained his composure. How could he and Shorty tell two of their crew members they had to stay behind? And how could two astronauts perform the work of four? Determination filled him. Dave and Jim would understand. A desperate rescue called for desperate measures. “Yes, sir.”
27
“I” Plus Nine Days
Hildi gazed longingly at the treadmill. Normally the astronauts exercised for two hours daily. She really wanted the workout, but they needed to conserve oxygen.
Someone behind her cleared his throat. She turned to see Frank hanging onto a handle near the hatchway. He stared at his feet. “We’ve hardly talked since this mission started.”
She hesitated. She didn’t want to encourage him, but she could see pain behind his bravado. He had something on his mind besides their relationship.
Frank lifted his head. “I…I…just can’t believe Larry is dead.” His voice was strained.
Hildi hung her head. How could she be so callous that she’d ignored his grief? “We all mourn him, Frank. We trained with him, ate barbeque with him, joked with him. He was a good person and a good friend. I know you were especially close to him, but you’re not alone in this.”
“It was my fault.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“If I’d taken control of docking earlier, we wouldn’t be in this mess. And if Larry hadn’t saved my life, he’d be here now. I wish it’d been me instead of him.”
Hildi’s eyes misted.
Frank’s pooling tears threatened to float away on a mission of their own. “And if I had been quicker, none of this would have happened in the first place.”
“Look at me. Nobody here blames you. Autopilot was supposed to prevent this. Reconciliation lurched. Maybe it was the attitude jets you complained about, maybe something else. But it wasn’t your fault.” Hildi hoped her little pep talk would lessen Frank’s escalating guilt, but hopelessness dulled his eyes. Her heart plummeted.
“I should have been able to compensate.”
“You don’t know whether that was even possible.” Hildi laid a hand on his arm. “Stop beating yourself up.”
Frank shook off her hand and turned away, but not before Hildi caught his look of resignation. He mumbled, “I don’t know why I bothered to talk about it. Larry is dead, and nothing will bring him back.”
Hildi snapped her mouth on a tart reply. Frank had closed down. He needed to work through this, but she wasn’t the one who could help him. His despair triggered alarm in her brain. Usually he could compartmentalize his feelings. Maybe Jasper could lift his spirits. She smiled as she thought of their phlegmatic teammate.
As Hildi propelled herself toward a shower, she crashed into Jasper, sending him spinning. He whooped and somersaulted. Hildi grinned in spite of her dragging heart.
He regained a steady position. “We’re wanted in the control room.”
“Frank, did you hear that?”
“I’ll be right there.”
Jasper and Hildi sped to the meeting. Frank emerged from the passageway a minute later. “What’s up?”
Joe took over without preamble. “Mission Control’s on the line. They wanted everyone to be here.” He keyed the mic. “Go ahead, Houston.”
“Acknowledged.” Dan’s CAPCOM voice lifted the corners of Hildi’s mouth. “We’ve been analyzing your situation. With some adjustments, we believe you can stretch your oxygen by another half day.�
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“About what we figured.”
Murmuring spun around the room. Frank whispered, “Fifteen and a half days? Who are they kidding? Neither Valiant nor another Soyuz will be ready in time. We’ll be dead before they get here, and NASA knows it.” He glared at the mic.
Joe silenced him with a slashing movement. “Say again, Dandy?”
“NASA’s moving up the schedule. Shorty and I will launch in twelve days with loads of oxygen. Special delivery. I’ll be switching over to preparations.”
Hildi released the breath she’d been holding. The gesture only emphasized how dependent the astronauts were on a little thing like air.
She smiled at the thought of Dan joining her in space. She missed him. Absence makes the heart grow fonder? Definitely for her. What about Dan’s heart?
Joe’s puzzled frown sobered the station. “Just you and Shorty?”
“Yes. We’re loading her to the gills.”
“She doesn’t have gills.” Jasper deadpanned his words.
Hildi chuckled. Jasper ducked his head at Joe’s scowl. He continued the conversation with Houston after missing a beat. “So what do y’all suggest for this oxygen-stretching?”
Dan paused as if consulting a list. “We already discussed canceling daily exercise. The boys here can tell you how to tweak the filters so carbon dioxide buildup won’t be a problem.” He sounded a lot more confident than Hildi felt.
Another pause. “One more thing. Unless you’re on duty, sleep. You don’t have the drugs on board to manage a coma state, but the flight surgeon says you have enough sleeping pills to keep you happy.”
Coma was a last resort, but induced sleep wasn’t much better. Hildi didn’t want the extra ZZZs any more than anyone else. The medication would hinder their efficiency if they faced another emergency. Probably a moot point. One more emergency and they wouldn’t have to worry about sleep.
Joe turned to the crew. “Y’all got any questions? I can’t think of anything else ’til the cavalry gets here.”
“The capsule can’t dock with the damage to the ring.” Frank’s voice was flat.
“You’re right, Frank. That patch won’t hold ’til the cows come home.”
“ISS, this is Houston. We agree that the docking ring needs to be repaired ASAP. The engineers here are already on it. They’re confident they can figure out a permanent fix with the stuff you have. You are GO for EVA.”
“Well, Houston, you’d better come up with a good one, on account we can’t fool around. It’ll have to work and work the first time.”
“Acknowledged. Houston out.”
“I’ll go.” Frank’s face was set in the don’t-deny-me look Hildi knew all too well.
“I’ll go, too.” Jasper smiled.
Joe smiled at them. “Thanks, gentlemen, ’cause I’ve already volunteered you.” Joe turned to a table strewn with clipped-down photos and drawings. “OK, folks, gather ’round. Leonid extended the robotic arm earlier and got some good pictures of the ring.” Joe pointed.
Hildi whistled. The damage was worse than she thought.
Leonid nodded. “We have sheet metal and braces.”
“Here’s another problem.” Joe turned to Frank and Jasper. “Y’all will have about four hours for EVA. That’s the limit of your suits since you used a bunch of it on your trek here.”
Frank’s mouth reflected the determination they all felt. Hildi’s mind shifted gears to a stubborn resolve.
Joe favored them with a lopsided smile. “You’ll be happy to know this is my last speech for a while. Frank, Jasper, and I will start working on the patch as soon as we coordinate with Houston’s engineers. Leonid, Maria, and Hildi will relieve us in six hours. If you’re not working, you’re resting. Understood?”
Everyone nodded as they again examined the photos. Hildi’s disturbing thoughts shouted in her ears. Although everyone had medic training, she was the only doctor on board. She’d be the one to monitor every crew member for signs of asphyxiation. Gasping, confusion, unconsciousness…
Death.
28
Hildi frowned at the latest e-mail from Francine. Amazing to get e-mails in space. Usually she made Hildi laugh, but not this time.
She read it again.
Hi, girlfriend.
Had an interesting day. Hunt sent me to Denver with the CDC team to check out the hotel where we think the index case originated. (I told you about the flu, didn’t I? It’s bad.) Anyway, it’s the hotel where your father had his last seminar. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I heard your dad’s sick and getting worse.
Anyway, I had the fun task of crawling all over that hotel taking samples. We don’t know yet what strain it is. Director Hunt is going nuts because it’s way early for influenza to hit the public. I’ll be spending a lot of overtime on this one.
Speaking of work and microbes, I haven’t seen your brother lately, not that I want to. I think he was suspended or something. Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.
Please be safe up there. Praying.
Francine
Hildi fired back quick e-mails to Francine and then to her mother. Hildi stared at the screen, hoping for an immediate response. None came.
She closed her eyes. Her brother would probably dance a jig if he knew Dad was that sick. Chet would probably wish he’d unleashed the virus himself.
Her brain kicked into overdrive. Chet could have…no. But he had access to Level 4. He might have had opportunity. He certainly knew how to…Stop it.
Her runaway imagination wouldn’t shut up. Hildi knew why he’d do it. He still hated their father. But enough to infect everyone at the seminar? Even Chet wouldn’t go to that extreme to vent his hatred.
Would he?
29
The new CAPCOM sounded like he’d won a cleanser-gargling contest, but Pete was the sweetest guy at the JSC. Hildi leaned closer to the control board, concentrating on his words. He tried to soften the blow of the inevitable news, but she still felt a golf ball in her throat swelling to a cantaloupe.
“So y’all found Larry’s…uh…body?” Joe wanted CAPCOM to repeat it. For Hildi, once was enough.
“Yes. We’re tracking it.”
The announcement finalized what Hildi already knew—Larry was dead. But when CAPCOM made the statement, she heard nails hammered into a coffin lid.
Pete cleared his throat. “The good news is we got telemetry back on Reconciliation and controlled her reentry. The recovery crew salvaged her, and she’s in the hangar now. We have the black box.”
Frank flinched.
Salvage. Not recovery. The Rigels were designed as reusable spacecraft, like the retired shuttles. Reconciliation would never launch again.
Hildi mourned the end of Reconciliation’s useful life, but Frank’s reaction transmitted utter defeat.
Joe frowned. “Y’all got any idea what happened, Houston?”
“NASA isn’t ruling anything out. These things take a while. We’ll let you know as soon as we know.”
Hildi took a deep breath that morphed into a pant. Her lungs had to work harder with the reduced air pressure in the station. The crew sounded like a pack of hounds just returned from the hunt.
Joe asked the question foremost in Hildi’s mind. Besides breathing, that is. “So, Houston, how’s that resupply coming along? We could use a little variety in our diet right about now.”
CAPCOM hesitated.
Frank growled. “I told you they couldn’t do it. They’ve been holding out—”
“Quiet.” Joe’s forehead wrinkled. “Say again, Houston?”
Hildi heard faint voices before Steve apparently wrenched the mic out of Pete’s hands. “People, we have the best team in the world working on pre-launch protocol. Dan and Shorty are training all out for this mission. We’ll launch on time.”
The crew sighed in unison. Hildi’s relief couldn’t have been more complete if someone had spiked the air with relax juice. Her heart tha-thumped with the thought of her
knight in shining armor rocketing to the rescue. She missed him.
“One more thing…Hildi, I’m sorry to tell you that your father is in ICU. It doesn’t look good.”
Hildi’s heart hit a gravity pocket. Frank squeezed her arm. His eyes expressed the empathy she’d longed to see during their engagement. He really liked her father.
Hildi remembered Francine’s e-mail. “What about my brother?”
The pause was even longer this time. “He took an extended leave of absence. We’ve been unable to locate him.”
30
Chet lounged in the pool area, the meager sun doing little to warm him. He anchored the blanket under his armpits. At least now he didn’t have to fight for a chair. Once the ship left the Bahamas, chugging its way across the North Atlantic to the British Isles, the ocean air turned cold. People usually jammed the Jacuzzis now, but the area was bare. Next time, he’d cruise the Hawaiian Islands. Anyplace warmer.
When Captain Papadopoulos and his assistant strolled by, a slight breeze carried their voices to his corner of the deck. The word “flu” captured Chet’s attention. He hunkered down in the lounge chair, grateful that his back was toward them, and peeked over his shoulder.
“I’m relieved the doctor’s reported it’s the flu and not some weird bug in the ventilation system.” The captain’s short-sleeved white uniform nearly glowed in the daylight, contrasting with his tanned arms. In spite of his age, he still possessed black hair.
“Unfortunately, we’d already done a thorough inspection of the kitchen, much to Ives’s protest.” The woman walking with the captain was just shy of anorexic, with blonde cropped hair hugging her scalp like a helmet. They smiled at some private joke.
The captain huffed out a breath. “Of course, that doesn’t change the fact we have a very contagious disease on our hands. How many passengers do we have in quarantine?”