Once Katya discovered the problem with the turbopump, the captain changed her orders. She and Nastez will go find the air leak, but instead of fixing the attitude control, Katya, Louis and I are supposed to fix the pump problem first. We can live with a drunken spaceship for a while, but we can’t live without the engines.
“I’ll do the EVA,” says Louis to Katya. “I’m the logical one. You need to stay at the console and Straker hasn’t been trained on the procedures yet, like the captain said. No offense, Straker.”
“None taken,” I say. I ain’t anxious to go out there anyways. To be honest, I’m not feeling real good. The ship is rocking and rolling back and forth as the flight computer fights the broken attitude control thruster and that crazy movement is messing with my sense of wellbeing, and by my sense of wellbeing I mean my stomach. Each time the ship moves, I feel my lunch rise a little higher. I’ve heard about motion sickness but this is the first time I’ve experienced it. It’s just as miserable as they say. I reach in my meds bottle and pop a pill. Maybe it will help—eventually.
“OK,” says Katya, checking the display to make sure the recorders are listening. “Let’s review the plan for the log. The plasma will blow within seconds after the backup pump fails; obviously we can’t let that happen. We need to dump the plasma to space before it blows and we don’t have much time. The pressure relief valve is damaged somehow, so we need to release manually. But manual control isn’t working.”
She points over to a red-and-white striped box with a keyed cover and a big Danger! sign. The key is in its slot and the striped cover is flipped up, exposing the large red handle underneath. The red handle that don’t work. “We’ve all tried the relief lever and it won’t budge. But it’s a simple mechanical linkage so the plan is for Louis to go outside, find the linkage problem, fix the linkage problem, then clear out. Once the linkage is repaired and Louis is clear, I will dump the plasma from this location.”
“Better pack every tool you can think of,” I say to Louis. “You don’t know what you’re gonna find.” I wipe my upper lip with my sleeve; I’m really starting to sweat. I try not to focus on the bucking walls of the room but there ain’t no stable place to concentrate on.
“Copy that,” replies Louis. “Is that all?” he asks, turning to Katya.
She sighs and shrugs. “Yea, I think so. I really don’t like you going back there. Wish there was another way. The cameras on that side have all been sheared off. You’ll just have to figure it out when you get there.”
“Aye, Second Officer, figure it out.” he says, with mock confidence and a crooked grin. “I’ll plink the link until it’s in the pink. Then you pop the plasma and all that jazz…ma.”
“Get going,” she says.
Louis pivots and pushes off for the dressing area and airlock. Katya returns to her console, planting herself on the saddle and strapping down. She looks like she’s riding a bucking bronco, her body staying in lock with the movement, her ponytail swinging up and down and side to side. I could think of a movie reference but right now I’m too concentrated on the washing machine agitator churning up my guts.
Actually I can’t stand to look at her. I know I’m turning green. Acid burps keeping rising up out of my stomach, tasting like sick. I close my eyes and try to float without touching nothing. In my head I visualize a mine; a nice, stable, mine; not the one that collapsed but others I’ve known. Solid and stable and immovable, and… for several minutes I try to think of other words for ‘not moving’. It helps.
“Secondary pump is past redline, getting really hot,” says Katya. “Can’t last much longer.”
I peek out one eye. The display is split between engine telemetry on one side and video from Louis’s suit camera on the other side. He’s already out there, dressed and through the airlock in record time, pulling himself towards the stern of the ship, the picture blurring as he whips himself rapidly down the side of the ship in the airless void. Katya keys her headset. “Louis, Katya. How do you read?”.
“Hi Katya. Read you five by five,” replies Louis, his breathing heavy over the mic. “I’m following the linkage aft—it looks AOK so far, over.”
Katya pulls up a diagram of the linkage on the display. She traces it with her finger. “Louis, you’ll come to a pivot lever assembly in about three meters, over.”
“Oh yea,” he replies, “I see it. It’s been hit all right; glancing blow—there’s a long scar on the side of the hull back here. Lever’s bent back pretty far, over.”
“Can you bend it back, over?” she asks.
“I think so. It’s thick metal but I’ve got a long-handled wrench, just need to work it into position, over.”
I watch Louis struggle with the wrench and the twisted metal lever, while I float, useless as flower in a piss-pot, feeling out of breath. Even though I’m not doing nothing constructive except holding down breakfast. And breathing hard. “Hey, the air in here is getting a mite sparse,” I say.
“Yea, you’re right,” Katya replies, inhaling deeply. “But Louis should be done soon. Then we can release the plasma and head back to the redoubt.”
“Want me to go get some breathers?” I ask.
She looks back and inspects me, one eyebrow arched high. “You look pretty bad,” she says. “Better stay put for now. I’m afraid you’ll clobber yourself on a bulkhead.”
“Katya, I think I got it,” interrupts Louis over the radio. “Try now, over.”
“Clear out first!” replies Katya. “You need to be at least half way back before I pull, over.”
“Aye, half way, copy.”
“That cloud is going to bust out of there like a firehose,” Katya continues, “and I’m not sure what it’s going to do. There may be side lobes to the cloud. You’re dead if it touches you, over.”
“Repeat, copy that, exiting now. Quick as I can. One minute, over.”
“Hurry!” she shouts. “Pump is burning up!”
I’m so tense I’ve forgotten my sickness. I’ve never felt more useless in my life. I grab onto a bouncing handhold protruding from the bulkhead and watch the telemetry display. I can’t see the numbers from here but the temperature indicator has turned red and it’s blinking frantically. Katya is more nervous than I’ve ever seen her—she’s panting now too, and fidgeting in her saddle. Her face looks pallid and her bangs are sweaty against her forehead.
“Any second now,” she says between breaths. She moves over to the lever and grips it, planting her feet onto the bulkhead on either side of the lever, her chest heaving, her movements clumsy as she tries to pull oxygen from the ever thinner air.
“OK,” comes Louis’s voice over the speaker, “I’m clear. Release the plasma!”
Katya yanks on the lever, her knees and back straining with her arms. She grunts loudly from the effort. The lever does not move. “I’ll try…again,” she says breathlessly through blue lips. She’s passing out from the effort.
“I’m getting you a breather,” I say between my own labored breaths, and push off towards the redoubt, where I know there is a stash of them. I leave Katya struggling with the lever, but within seconds I am headed back with a breather on my face and one in my hand for her. If she can’t free the lever, maybe I can, but first thing is to keep breathing. But somehow the rush of oxygen from the breather has brought my sickness back. I lurch into the work area and see the walls moving, back and forth, up then down, right and left, nothing holding still, every sickening lurch of the walls bringing another wave of burning bile up my throat.
I see Nastez emerging from the docking portal hatchway just as I retch into my mask. My stomach empties in one big convulsion and the vomit clogs the oxygen; now I can’t breathe. I lose my bearings and drift close to the wall. I’m preoccupied with clearing my mask. The bobbing near wall jerks down and then rebounds back up. A steel cabinet smacks me hard in the face.
I feel blood. The breather drifts out of my hand. That’s all I remember.
* * * * *
Nastez is gripping the lever, his face in a breather and his feet planted on the bulkhead as Katya had done earlier. But the lever has been pulled out and he’s just keeping his position, watching the nearby display. The screen shows a powerful fiery stream of brilliant violet plasma shooting far out to the side of the ship, blossoming to a glittering mushroom cloud, obscuring the blackness of the space behind it and the stars as well. There’s a loud continuous groan coming from aft as the superheated plasma plays the relief valve like a spastic tuba. As for me, I’m duct taped to a bulkhead.
“So. You’re awake, Yuuta,” says Nastez, turning towards me. “That was an idiotic move on your part. You were told to stay out of the way. You couldn’t even get that right. You managed to only make things worse.”
“What was I supposed to do, let her suffocate?” I demand as I pull against the gummy tape.
“Watch your tone, Recruit,” he replies, shaking his head in disgust. “Remember that I am an officer, and you are not. And if you’re going to disobey a direct order, at least try not to puke in your breather and get smacked by a bulkhead.”
“It was moving,” I say, “It was an accident.”
“Spare me your excuses,” he says.
“Are we OK?” asks Katya as she regains enough consciousness to be irritated by the argument.
“Yes, replies Nastez, turning to face her. “The pressure has been released and most of the cloud is out beyond the danger threshold. As soon as we can maneuver, we’ll push out a little farther and get completely out of the radiation.”
Katya unbuckles from the handhold and drifts over towards the displays. “Wow, that’s really beautiful. I don’t think anyone has ever done this before in space. I wasn’t sure what would happen. Did the purge break anything else?”
“No,” replies Nastez, “not as far as I can tell. It all went just as the physicists said it would.”
Katya checks the telemetry and the studies the video again. Satisfied, she turns around to look at me. “What are you doing?” she asks, confused. “Is that duct tape?”
“I think so,” I reply, still pulling off long strips of adhesive and arm hair. “Looks like I got duct taped to the wall. Good to see you’re OK.”
“Thanks for trying,” she says to me.
“He was unconscious and floating about in a chaotic and dangerous manner,” interjects Nastez. “It was an expedient method to get him safely out of the way.”
“Any progress on the attitude control?” she asks Nastez, an amused expression on her face.
“The captain is working on it,” Nastez replies. “We have a temporary fix for the atmosphere leak. As for the attitude control, a couple of valves need to be replaced, that’s all. It would be good for you to go take over for her, when you’re up to it.”
“What about me?” I ask, pulling at the tape. “Can I help?”
“Sure,” says Katya.
Nastez rolls his eyes. “Absolutely not. Louis can help you, Katya, when he’s out of the airlock. Recruit Yuuta will stay clear of the repair work. He will help by freeing himself from the bulkhead, removing all traces of his vomitus and blood from himself and from this room, and then getting the hell out of my sight.”
I’m sitting on the bed watching Pops pack his overnight bag. His face is freshly shaven, his straight, black hair neatly combed. He smells like soap. He’s wearing a blue sport coat and a white collared shirt that I ain’t seen before. I’m used to seeing him in a casual, collarless shirt. He knows exactly what he needs as he whisks around the room, gathering and folding clothing. He packs it all into his bag, along with a big electronic pad, with crisp efficiency.
“Where ya goin’?” I ask, swinging my crossed feet off the side of the bed. My socks have fallen down from my ankles and my shoe laces are untied but so what, I don’t care. I’m little.
“I’m going to a big meeting,” he replies as he looks over at me with a smile in his eyes. He lays down a clean shirt on top of the pile in his case. “It’s with a whole bunch of important people. I’ll be right under the Mountain of Eternal Light at Malapert Crater. Isn’t that fun?”
“Wow Pops. Is that the mountain that’s always on fire?”
“That’s right Straker. It’s always daytime up there.”
“How come you’re goin’?” I ask. I ain’t used to him being gone. I don’t much like it neither.
“Because your father needs money; lots and lots of it,” he says, smiling. “We’re going to change things. Everything is going to be much better for all of our friends here in town. Mining big space rocks is just a start. So I need to be at my very best for this meeting.”
“You gonna leave me here?” I ask. I know the answer already but I just like to hear him talk and I want to keep him here as long as I can.
He sits on the bed next to me and looks me straight in the eyes with that look he has—the one that puts a lock on your soul. He puts his hand softly on my head. “I would never leave you Straker. I’ll be back tomorrow in time for dinner. You’ll have fun here with Mister Doctor and Missus Doctor. They going to take you to see the sheep.”
Well why didn’t you say so. “Yay! I love the sheep!” But I don’t want to give in too easy. “Will you bring me back something?”
“Maybe, if the Kapoors say you’ve been good. I’ll bet there are some pretty cool toys over at Malapert. Maybe something a boy would like. But you have to do your part, little man.”
“Yay! Will you bring a bracelet like you have?” I ask, fingering the silvery bracelet on his wrist. Important people gave it to him in a big ceremony. Then he worked on it too, to make it even more better, although I don’t know what he did to it. It’s real shiny and it has a funny rocket on it.
“Well,” he says, tilting he head and inspecting the bracelet. “This bracelet is special.” There won’t be one for sale at Malapert, but maybe I’ll make you one someday.”
“Promise? Promise you’ll make me one?” I’ve wanted one like it forever. I want everything he has. I want to be just like him.
“Oh what the heck,” he says, and unfastens the clasp that holds the bracelet. “You can hold on to this until I get back. It’s very special, so don’t take it off OK? I don’t want you to lose it.”
“Wow, thanks Pops.” This is the best moment of my life, I’m thinking. He wraps the cool metal around my skinny wrist. It’s way too big: even with the clasp fastened, the heavy bracelet just falls off my arm. But Pops is an improviser; he pulls a piece of wire out the junk drawer by the bed and twists it into the bracelet, tightening it up. “You did it!” I exclaim in utter admiration.
“When I get back I’ll see about getting you one of your own. Now you need to be a good boy for the Kapoors, OK? You need to promise me.”
I nod. “Yes, I promise Pops.” I’ll be good I guess. As long as they take me to see the sheep. I love animals, and sheep are the best animals in the world. They don’t mind being petted, unlike the big rabbits with the mean teeth and mean eyes. I still remember other kinds of animals on Earth and someday I’ll go back and see them too; I can’t wait.
“Good.” He puts his hand the handle of the case, but them releases it and turns to hug me. “I’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll miss you son.”
I hug him back. “I’ll miss you too Pops. I ain’t happy when you’re not here.”
“I love you Straker. And don’t talk like a miner. Say ‘I’m not happy’, not ‘I ain’t happy’.”
“OK, I will. I love you too Pops.” He holds me. I feel his warmth. I rub his bristly face.
Then I wake up. My wristy is lit up with the alarm—I tap to s
hut it off. Time to get ready for my watch. But part of me is still in the dream. I finger the bracelet, still on my wrist after all these years. The warm feeling lingers and I slowly realize in my groggy state that it wasn’t just a dream, it was a memory. From a time in my life when I had family. Of my Pops who never returned. Before Pops rid himself of his snot-nosed, needy kid. Me.
Down in my guts I still don’t know why he left the way he did. The thought of it burns my insides every day. But I can’t do nothing about that now. I rub the bare spots on my wrists where the duct tape has pulled off the hair and slowly my head comes back to the world of now. I sigh and stand up from my bed and ready myself for another grim day.
* * * * *
“I know he’s got a thing for me,” says Katya, pointing the probe into the metal casing. The probe sounds little tones as its laser measures the shape of the inside of the casing. She looks beat. She’s already fixed the attitude thrusters and worked with Louis and Nastez to replace both turbopumps on the port engine. Just as Katya has guessed, one pump was completely smashed by space rocks, the other was dented. The dent in turn damaged the turbine and caused the pump to seize.
The damage is fixable so that’s what we’re doing. Without it, we’d have no spare pumps. Katya and I are in the engineering area. Like Katya, I’m wearing a white ‘clean’ jumpsuit, hairnet, and surgical mask. The mask covers my nose and mouth, making it so I’m breathing back a little of my own breath. I’m wishing I hadn’t eaten canned tuna with onions for lunch. But all this clothing is required when the turbopump casing is open. “Does it need another whack?” I ask.
“Yes, I think so,” she replies. “One or two more should do it. Mea, mark the high point.”
“OK,” replies Mea.
Mea, the Mechanical Engineering Assistant, is a multi-armed robot able to reach anywhere within the room. It’s not a very strong robot, but it’s versatile and very precise. One of the spindly arms trundles over us and rotates its multiple joints to lower the arm down into the interior of the turbopump casing. Its tiny paint gun sprays a dot on the part that I haven’t yet sufficiently hammered down.
Love and Other Metals Page 12