Impossible (Fuzed Trilogy Book 3)

by David E Stevens

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “Gotta a lot of work to do right now but let’s catch up later. Wendy will get you settled.”

  As they float back toward the Dorm Module, Wendy looks at him curiously. “So … why are you here?”

  He gives her the line they concocted. “I’m just another set of eyeballs sent—”

  “I know the party line,” she interrupts. “Also heard a blow-by-blow description of what happened on the mountaintop from Greg Langlois and that you were involved with The Great Tech Out last year.” She frowns. “Not sure if you follow trouble,” she tilts her head with a slight frown, “or it follows you.”

  He shrugs.

  Still frowning, she starts to say something and then stops. Finally, looking as if she’d come to a decision, she exhales and very quietly adds, “There’s something I need to share with you … later.”

  13

  POD

  The next day, Katori puts him in a pod, but with a warning. “The simulators are good, but remember … they’re never like the real thing.”

  Josh winks at him.

  The pods look like giant white chicken eggs with exposed plumbing on the bottom and large mechanical arms coming out of both sides — Humpty Dumpty meets the Terminator. The top of the egg is clear Plexiglas, allowing a 360-degree view like a fighter canopy. Small reaction jets ring the middle like a belt.

  The entry hatch is located on the very bottom of the egg, where it’s anchored to the station. From outside, the docked pods look like eggs in an egg carton.

  Sliding in is easier in zero-g than on the ground. Once inside, there’s just enough room to strap into a partial seat. The armrests have joysticks on each side. It’s similar to the jetpack he flew in Shanghai. Above the armrests are partial sleeves that control the mechanical arms, mimicking the motion of his. Directly in front of him, just below the canopy is a control panel. To each side of the panel are two holes. Unstrapped, he can lean forward and insert both his arms into spacesuit sleeves with gloves on the end. This allows detail work that requires more dexterity than the mechanical arms can offer. There’s also a heads-up-display projected onto the canopy that shows flightpath, closure, etc.

  He goes through the pod initialization procedures quickly using his photographic memory. As they close the pod and airlock hatches, he checks in with Katori on the radio.

  Katori says, “Systems are all green. Ready?”

  “Roger that.”

  “Releasing grappling latches. You’re go for EVA.”

  “Anyone ever tried to do an outside loop with one of these?”

  With a short laugh, Katori says, “Josh, you bounce that thing off my laser, I’m not letting you back in.”

  Josh smiles as he gingerly moves the controls. The pod feels similar to the simulator but it’s more responsive, and in zero gravity, the concept of up and down is missing. Despite his bravado, he’s a test pilot and knows to get a feel for the vehicle before doing any serious maneuvering. He nudges the pod away from the station. Rotating 360 degrees, he moves the pod side-to-side, then backwards and forwards. Finally, he turns the pod so it faces “down” toward Earth. With the giant canopy, he has a panoramic view and is mesmerized by the cascade of dazzling white clouds, bright blue oceans and green and brown Earth spinning slowly beneath him. He hangs there for almost a minute.

  Katori clears his throat.

  Josh shakes his head. “Sorry.”

  “No apology necessary. It’s an amazing view. Everyone deserves a minute.”

  “Ok, forklift reporting for duty.” On his display, he sees his assigned track around the station and the thermal panels he needs to move. He carefully follows the track, picks up the panels and delivers them to one of the trusses. The panels have piping in them to carry coolant from the nuclear reactor’s core. Using the mechanical arm, he pushes the pieces in place and then using the gloved arms, takes a power wrench and connects them to the truss.

  After a couple runs, he decides to pick up the pace and see what the pod can really do. He begins moving faster with quicker accelerations and decelerations. He’s having fun. His test pilot experience, amazingly acute senses and lightening reflexes —combined with teenage years playing video games — pays off.

  He finally has to come in because his pod’s power and propellant are getting low. As he starts to dock the pod, he can’t resist. “Open the pod bay door, Hal.”

  Katori fakes a laugh. “Gee, never heard that one before.”

  After he shuts down and pops out of the pod’s hatch, Katori gives him a quick debrief. “During the last half of your EVA, you accomplished what we had scheduled for the next two sessions.” He smiles. “I’m going to ask Joe if I can keep you.”

  As they finish up, Wendy comes by. “You hungry?”

  “Famished. Know a good place to eat?”

  “No … but I can take you to the cafeteria.”

  The “cafeteria” consists of lots of cupboards of prepared meals with a couple small round tables on poles in the middle of the module. They have Velcro surfaces to stick food packages in between bites. The food is almost as good as military MREs.

  As they eat, Wendy pumps him for information about what happened on the mountaintop and why. Enough time has elapsed that he’s comfortable sharing some of the story. She seems particularly interested in how he took on a Navy SEAL. Then she nods toward his wedding ring. “I didn’t know you were married.”

  “It happened shortly after the comet.”

  “So, what does Mrs. Fuze think about your being on the space station?”

  He exhales slowly. “Uh, not sure she knows I’m up here.”

  She gives him a surprised and then puzzled look.

  Josh shakes his head. “Long story.” He changes the subject. “How about you?”

  Her permanently disgusted expression turns more disgusted. “Me too. Was married once but….” she shrugs, “I was told I’m too intense.” She also changes the subject. Switching to a lecture voice, she says, “As you know we take safety very seriously on this station.” She looks at him intently but keeps her voice casual. “To make sure we can keep tabs on everything, almost every square centimeter of the station is monitored with video cameras and microphones, and, of course, everything is recorded.” She pauses for emphasis and then continues in a softer voice, “But enough technical discussions.” She leans in across the small table and puts her hand on top of his. “It’s so good to see you again.” Leaning in further, he can feel her breath. Without warning, she kisses him.

  Before he can react, she whispers in his ear, “Uncovered something dangerous. Can’t talk here. Come to my quarters at shift’s end.”

  14

  DORM

  There is no night or day aboard the station, or, more accurately, there’s a sunrise every 90 minutes. Operations go on around the clock, but third shift is usually the slowest. With the majority of the crew sleeping then, it’s referred to as “night time.” Josh waits 30 minutes into the night shift before going to the Dorm Module.

  “Crew quarters” is a generous term. The compartments are the size of a double refrigerator. Five rows of eight crew cubicles ring the cylindrical module’s wall like spokes of a wheel. Josh glides down the meter-wide central corridor until he finds Wendy’s name on a small plastic hatch.

  He knocks.

  “Come in.”

  He carefully dives through the narrow hatch into her quarters. It’s a half-meter wide at the entrance but expands to almost a meter and a half on the far side at the module’s exterior wall. The exterior walls of the Dorm Module are an unusual half-meter thick. Composed of water storage tanks, they provide extra shielding from solar radiation and micrometeoroids. Without gravity, there’s no need for a bed but space is still tight, particularly for two people. Even with their heads at the wider part of the compartment, it’s … intimate.

  She says, “This is one of the only places without video or audio feeds. Sorry about the kiss but needed a
plausible reason for you to come to my quarters in case someone was monitoring us. When you said your wife didn’t know you were here,” she shrugs, “it makes it believable.”

  “I understand.”

  She takes a deep breath. “The reason I asked about your background is I accidentally came across,” she leans in and he can feel her breath again, “an anomaly.”

  With only inches between them, he braces himself, so he won’t bump into her as he repeats, “Anomaly?”

  “Someone made unauthorized modifications to the ISLO’s software.”

  “How did you find that?”

  “My first tour was with U.S. Cyber Command. A simple way to find viruses is to compare a file’s current size with what it should be. Clearly, someone bypassed all the safeguards and modified several key files without permission.”

  “What were they trying to change?”

  “It’s complex software and impossible to determine what the changes do just by looking at the code.” She pauses. “So, I ran the modified software through a simulator to see if I could find out if it performed differently.”

  Before Josh could ask, her intercom system activated, “Colonel Crowe.”

  “Yes?”

  “There’s an emergency in the Repair Module.”

  “What is it?”

  “Don’t know but they need you there ASAP.”

  Wendy shakes her head. “It’s probably just another broken pod. Let me go find out what’s going on. I’ll be right back.”

  Josh nods.

  After she leaves, Josh begins to feel uneasy. He can’t tell what is causing it, but he’s learned to trust his instincts. He clears his mind and immediately has a familiar “spider web” moment. For a flash, he sees a web of possible futures emanating from his present. It isn’t clear what the danger is, but he knows he needs to move. Wendy has important information and she took unusual precautions to make sure only he is aware of it. He doesn’t need prescience to know that her being interrupted just before telling him is too much of a coincidence.

  He decides to join her. Maneuvering through the hub, he enters the Communication Module, which leads to her module.

  As he transits through it, a loud warning siren goes off, followed by a computer voice, repeating, “Fire, fire, Repair and Fabrication Module.”

  Through the next hatch, he sees a bright flickering light and Wendy alone on the far side of the module. The metal connecting hatch automatically begins to slide shut. She’ll never make it out.

  He grabs a fire extinguisher from the wall and dives through the hatch, barely clearing it before it closes. The power is automatically cut inside the module. It leaves only low-level emergency lights, but illumination isn’t needed. A small fountain of fire is erupting from a panel midway down the module.

  Wendy, also wielding a fire extinguisher, points at the emergency oxygen masks. Unfortunately, they’re attached to the wall next to the fire. They both let loose blasts of carbon dioxide, but it’s like trying to put out a blowtorch.

  Wendy yells over the siren, “It’s a magnesium fire but it must be fed by pure oxygen!” As they empty their extinguishers, they hear a whooshing sound and feel a strong breeze.

  Eyes wide, Wendy yells, “Automatic fire suppression! It’s venting the air into space and flooding the compartment with carbon dioxide!”

  Josh looks around but the only emergency oxygen masks are now globs of melted plastic next to the intense fire.

  Wendy yells, “The carbon dioxide won’t extinguish the fire but it will extinguish us!”

  Josh motions toward the pod docking station at the far end of the module. They both take deep breaths and launch themselves toward it.

  With nothing but emergency battery power, they have to open the airlock and pod door manually. He uses his photographic memory to call up the procedure, but it’s a 10-minute process. With no oxygen, they’ll be unconscious before that. Working together, they rip through the procedures and get the hatch open in three.

  He motions for Wendy to get inside but she shakes her head. He can tell she’s out of air. With her last breath, she says, “Not going to make it. Someone hacked laser’s aiming system so it can hit targets on Earth…” With that, she inhaled the now pure CO2 atmosphere and after gasping, passes out.

  His amazing body is still going but the need to take a breath is becoming unbearable. He pulls the pod door open but to close the hatches behind them, they have to go in feet first. He tries to push an unconscious Wendy in but it’s like trying to push wet feet into tight socks. He finally grabs her and holding her tightly against himself, manages to squeeze them both in feet first.

  Designed for one person, they’re smashed tightly together. He closes the station hatch and then the pod hatch. It’s dark in the pod and the emergency oxygen switch is on the other side of Wendy’s limp body. He’s out of time.

  Light-headed, he feels as if he’s tumbling and his vision begins to gray out at the edges. He slides his arm around her body to find the oxygen switch. Before he finds it, he has to let the air out of his lungs. As he inhales, he quickly realizes the flood of carbon dioxide displaced the oxygen in the pod and he begins to hyperventilate.

  Vision fading rapidly, he tries to flip the switch, but his fingers keep sliding off. Why isn’t it working? He’s so sleepy. Some part of his brain screams the switch has a plastic guard on it. Rapidly losing interest, he casually lifts the guard. His ears feel like they’re stuffed full of cotton. His fingers numbly slide around the switch. He just needs a quick nap.

  From down a long dark tunnel, he hears a faint hissing sound. His ears pop. After a few seconds, his vision begins to clear.

  Gasping for air, he rotates Wendy so they’re face to face. Pale and unconscious, she’s not breathing and he can’t detect a pulse in her neck. He put his hand over her chest. In zero gravity, bras aren’t needed and he can feel a very slow heartbeat. He begins mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Almost immediately, he feels her body tighten up and sees her eyelids flutter. He continues the mouth-to-mouth until she’s breathing normally. As he pulls his mouth away from hers, her eyes open and focus on him.

  Coughing and panting, she shakes her head and looks around. “We … we made it.” With his hand still on her chest, she puts her hand on top of his and says, “What a dream. Now I know what they mean about asphyxiation and arousal.” She puts her other arm around his neck and pulls him back in, converting the mouth-to-mouth into a kiss.

  Pulling back after a second, he says, “Wendy, we’re in a pod attached to a burning module.”

  “You really know how to ruin the mood.”

  He shrugs with a small smile. “Somehow, we gotta turn ourselves around inside this thing so we can reach the controls.”

  She frowns. “Uh, that might not matter.”

  “Why?”

  “The reason this pod’s in the Repair Module is because it’s broken.”

  They spend the next 10 minutes trying to swap the position of their feet for their heads, so they can access the pod’s controls, but it’s like trying to do a summersault in a sleeping bag. Halfway through, Wendy says, “I think we’ve covered the entire Kama Sutra.”

  As their heads finally reach the top of the pod, she looks around. “We’re not connected to the station!”

  They watch the station getting smaller as their pod slowly spins into space.

  15

  ADRIFT

  Josh shakes his head. “I thought the tumbling feeling was lack of oxygen.”

  Frowning, Wendy says, “We have a pretty high delta-V and we’re already 500 meters from the station.”

  The only way to access the controls is for him to sit in the pilot seat with Wendy wedged in front of him.

  Josh flips the battery switch on. The controls illuminate and several warning tones go off. He studies the controls and just as he says, “Uh oh,” the power goes out.

  Frowning, she says, “This pod’s a hangar queen. Been sitting in the Repair Modul
e for weeks. Batteries are dead. They’ll have to send another pod after us.”

  Josh narrows his eyes. “Without power the CO2 scrubbers are off and there’s no oxygen except the emergency supply we’re breathing.”

  “Without the scrubbers the emergency oxygen should be good for about 20 minutes.”

  Josh shakes his head. “That’s for one person and we probably used it doing our contortion.”

  “If they’re busy fighting the fire they may not have even noticed our departure.” She sighs. “Even if they did, it takes 15 minutes to spin up a pod.”

  Josh taps a gauge. “There’s a little propellant left but we can’t operate the thrusters without electrical power.”

  She nods. “Let’s shut off everything that uses power except the thrusters. Then we’ll try turning the battery back on. Might have enough voltage left to fire the thrusters for a few seconds.”

  “Good idea.” He looks around and runs through the checklist. “HUD off. External lights off. Radio and navigation off. Air recirculation off.” With his phenomenal senses, he can tell from his pulse and breathing that the CO2 is building up again. “Ok, I’m going to put my hands on the thruster controls. When our spinning has us pointed in the right direction, I’ll tell you to turn on the battery.” As he’s talking, he reaches down and flips off one more switch.

  Watching him, she says, “Wait, that’s Inertial Stabilization. We need that to stabilize us and stop our tumbling.”

  “It’d be nice but the gyros use power and take time to initialize. Plus, they constantly pop the thrusters to maintain our attitude.” He shakes his head. “We can’t afford the power or propellant.”

  “Can you fly this without computer augmentation?”

  With a southern drawl, he says, “Hold my beer and watch this.”