“Roger, we just picked that up here. Looks like an instrumentation failure, not a systems failure. Recommend you proceed to manual override following the conclusion of the first stage burn, in thirty-two seconds, mark.”
“Will comply,” Knox said, reaching with an effort for a control. “Murph, we’re time-critical, so we both hit the switch on the mark.”
“Agreed,” she replied, struggling to raise her arm, finally able to reach the recalcitrant switch. They struggled to hold themselves in position against the acceleration, the engines still burning hard, hurling them out of the stratosphere and towards the threshold of space. The sky was darkening, fading from blue to black, and the first stars were becoming visible. It ought to have been a moment to savor, but the crew had work to do, and as the engines faded and died, for a brief second, they were free, and all was silent.
Knox and Murphy threw their switches at the same instant, and the mighty explosive bolts erupted in a succession of loud reports, hurling the empty first stage of their rocket clear for later recovery, pushing them forward in their harnesses. The second stage fired a half-second later, pushing them back once more, and Knox grimaced as the acceleration program once again kicked in, the rocket now moving almost parallel to the surface, the surging speed now throwing them into orbit.
“Icarus, we show a clean separation, second stage burning fine,” Baker said. “We’re still not sure what happened, but for the record, Murph won the race by a milli-second, and the computers never engaged the bolts. All other systems appear fine, and we’re looking over the second-stage separation systems now. Recommend you prepare to fire them manually if needed, but you won’t have time constraints on that. Two minutes, ten seconds in the burn.”
“Roger that, Control,” Knox said, able to recover his breath, the second stage less severe than the first. “All other systems look good to us.” He smiled, glanced at Murphy, and added, “Nice work.”
“Finest kind,” she agreed. “Course looks perfect, speed is good, heading for orbital insertion.”
Knox nodded, resting back into his couch, looking out at the stars once more, the rocket racing towards orbital velocity and freedom from the endless pull of Earth. One final push, and they were there, the engines fading away, the second stage tumbling free by itself, not needing any manual influence. He took a deep breath, reached up, and took off his helmet, letting it float away as he released his restraints, drifting clear of his couch with a push. The others did the same, starting to stow their launch suits into the locker, a piece at a time.
“Just as advertised,” Murphy said. “Control, we look good from here.”
“Roger that, Murph, you look damned good from down here,” Baker agreed. “Orbital track is confirmed, and you should be intercepting your supply module in three orbits. You can start your checklists for orbital coast. All systems are go. Enjoy the view.”
As the sun rose over the distant horizon, shining on the magnificent blue-and-green orb of Earth beneath them, Knox replied, “You don’t have to tell us twice, General. Thanks for the ride.”
Chapter 16
It was always a great challenge to remain focused on any task at hand during the first moments of a spaceflight. On a normal transfer flight, a mission to an orbiting space station, the crew were usually given a few orbits to acclimatize themselves to their surroundings, to orient themselves to zero-gravity and to steal a few moments to look at the surface of the Earth rotating below them. The crew of Icarus One didn’t have that luxury. The day before, their supply module had been launched on a separate rocket from the Cape, and unless they could complete a capture maneuver, their mission would come to an end before it had truly begun.
“Course plot still running fine,” Murphy reported. “Our tracking confirms contact in two minutes.” She looked across at Knox, and added, “I still don’t like the margin of error.”
“Couldn’t be helped,” Knox replied. “We’ve just got to get it right on the first try. That’s all. If we don’t, then we go home. No risks, Murph. I mean it.”
“Too much in love with myself for that,” she said with a smile. “Dry Wells, do you read?”
“Roger that,” Baker said. “We’re going to hold off transferring you to Vandenburg until you get into injection.” That hadn’t been in the flight plan, but everyone on board had known that Baker would keep them under his wings for as long as he could. “We have good telemetry from the supply module. Warm and waiting.”
“Nice to hear. Pity there’s nobody over there to put the coffee on.” She reached for the docking thrusters, and said, “Three minutes to contact. We ought to be able to see it, any time now.”
“Kat, see if you can spot it with the rangefinder,” Knox said, turning to Antonova. “Just in case we run into problems, I want to be able to run a manual approach.”
“On it,” she replied, pushing past a green-faced Maxwell.
“You OK, Max?” Knox asked, reaching for a sick bag. “Told you not to have so much breakfast.”
“Yeah, yeah, everyone’s smarter than I am,” he replied, taking the proffered bag and retreating to a corner of the module, as Knox quietly turned up the air conditioning to help mask the smell.
“Got it,” Antonova replied, peering through the rangefinder, the laser pressed up against the viewport. “Distance is ten miles, closing, on direct trajectory.”
Nodding, Murphy settled down at the controls, resting her hands on the thrusters, and said, “Time to make the magic happen, people.” Knox watched as the pilot deftly guided the capsule into position, reaching up to open the docking port, the claw-like protrusions extending as it prepared to grab the supply module. He could see it in the distance now, a tiny dot with a green square around it, the heads-up display providing approach information to Murphy. Knox watched the rest of the systems, his hand extended over the docking controls, ready to engage them as soon as they made contact.
“One mile,” Antonova said, a moment later. “Approach speed decreasing.”
“Nice and steady, Murph,” Knox said. “You’ve got all the time in the world to get this right.”
“Don’t worry, Colonel, I know what I’m doing,” the pilot said, her eyes darting between the thruster controls and the approach readouts. This was another element of the mission that they’d under-simulated, but Murphy was the most experienced pilot CosmoTech had, and had completed this maneuver dozens of times over the course of her career. If anyone was capable of guiding them into position, she was.
“Control, report status,” Knox said.
“All systems remain go. You are clear for docking at your discretion,” Baker replied.
“Easy,” Murphy muttered. “Nice and easy.”
Knox looked at his controls, resisting the temptation to take them himself. Murphy was the expert. He kept telling himself that. The supply module, a short, stubby cylinder, was growing larger and larger, now only meters away, and the capsule was slowly inching towards it. Murphy wasn’t attempting to set any records or show off, just complete her usual professional job.
“Supply module has opened docking clamps,” Antonova said. “Ready for contact.”
“Ten seconds,” Murphy announced, gently firing the thrusters to guide them into position, the sound of scraping metal as the docking probe slid into place. “Capture.”
“Locking clamps,” Knox said, throwing the switch. There was a loud, grinding noise, then a red light flashed on, a siren briefly sounding until Knox shut it off. “Malfunction. Clamps failed to close. Our end.” He threw the switch again, then said, “Let’s try that one more time.” The same grinding noise echoed through the capsule, with the same ultimate result. He cursed, then said, “Control, we’ve got a problem.”
“Roger, we read it down here. Looks like something might be jammed in the mechanism. One of the clamps is failing to close. Can you see anything from your end?”
“That’s a negative, General. We have no imagery on that area of the ship.” Gla
ncing at the rear cabin, Knox said, “Recommend I go out and complete a visual inspection of the docking clamps.”
“Wait one,” Baker replied, as Murphy turned to him, shock on her face.
“Are you crazy?” she asked. “That’s one of the most dangerous parts of the ship to approach, and even if you get out there, there’s not that much you could realistically do anyway. We’ve got to be connected in less than an hour if we’re to meet our launch window. That’s no time at all to make repairs and get safely back to the ship.”
Shaking his head, Knox replied, “Sitting here and hoping that Launch Control can come up with a miracle isn’t going to make the time go by any faster, and I’d rather make the attempt than simply sit up here until tomorrow and abort the mission.” He looked at the clock, then said, “Though you’ve got a point in that we’re tight on minutes.” He looked down at Maxwell, grimaced, and added, “Kat, you’d better help me suit up.”
“Who’s going with you?” Antonova asked.
“I’m going alone,” he replied. Before they could protest, he added, “Realistically, that’s the only option that makes any damned sense at all. Murph has to stay at the controls, and someone has to be sitting right-seat to monitor me and to engage the docking clamps if I manage to clear the problem. Max is going to be out of the game for a while, and I sure as hell don’t want a spacesick astronaut floating around out there. We’ve got enough problems as it is.”
“All mission protocols demand that nobody goes out of the ship on their own. If you run into trouble, it would be at least ten minutes before anyone could go out and help you,” Murphy protested.
“Last time I checked, I was the commander of this mission. Subject to Launch Control permitting an EVA, the decision is mine, and it is made. Kat, you can help me suit up, and keep a close eye on my biomonitors. I’ll be tethered at all times, and if there’s any sign of trouble, the servos will pull me back to the barn. We’ve got to make the attempt, people. There’s too much at stake to just sit here.”
With a sigh, Antonova replied, “As you say, Colonel. I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.”
“Neither do I, but let’s get on with it,” he said, pushing out of his chair and down to the rear section, where four hatches lay in a semi-circle, each providing access to a different spacesuit. He selected the one marked ‘Knox’, and as Antonova watched, pulled open the hatch and swung inside, legs first, then arms, reaching to the extremities of the boots and gloves, flexing his fingers to ensure the fight was tight. He popped his head into the helmet, the automatic systems engaging to power up the suit, registering his presence and making the necessary adjustments.
“Looks good here,” Antonova said. “I’m going to close the hatch now.”
“Right, Kat. Keep the home fires burning. With a little luck, I’ll be home in less than an hour.” The hatch slammed shut, and he said, “Testing, testing, testing. Do you read me?”
“I copy you loud and clear,” Murphy said. “Still waiting to get the word from Dry Wells.”
“Push them, Murph. We’re minus on minutes.” The helmet systems booted up, the lifesystem pressurizing as it switched to independent operation, drawing everything it needed from the reserves on board the capsule. He reached down to the toolkit to his right, pulling out a pair of long tongs, testing the grip with his fingers, then waited impatiently for the monitor lights to wink from blue to green, praying to avoid an amber, or still worse, a red. One by one, they changed color, and finally, after eight agonizing minutes, his systems informed him that he was clear for departure, and he reached for the hatch control, ready to expose himself to the vacuum of space.
“Knox, this is Launch Control,” Baker said. “We’re monitoring your status, and I have the distinct impression that you aren’t going to give us much of a choice on this, are you?”
“Is there any prospect of you being able to work out some sort of a fix from where you are, General?”
“I’d be lying if I said there was, but there’s always a chance that we might work something out. Going out by yourself is one hell of a risk, Tom, and if our positions were reversed…”
“Then I’d be sitting at a desk complaining while you were up here, wanting to get on with the job.”
There was a soft chuckle, and Baker replied, “I probably would at that. Very well. Proceed with utmost caution, and if you haven’t been able to fix the problem in forty minutes, head back to the capsule. In that event, we’ll be aborting you in six orbits, and I’ll make sure to save you a good seat at the bar.”
“Understood. Opening outer hatch now.” He tapped a control, and a portion of the ship folded back. It wasn’t an airlock, only pressurized for the flight to orbit to maintain the structure of the hull, rather a shield that protected the spacesuits within from dust, debris, or any of the other myriad hazards of orbital space. He gasped as he separated from the hull, a million stars and galaxies in his field of vision, an awe-inspiring sight that took his breath away.
He didn’t have time to savor it. Not now. He had work to do. With a quick tug, he checked that his safety line was secure, then kicked away from the hull, using the nearest handhold to swing himself around and towards the supply module. The capsule had drifted away, only a few meters, enough for him to manage a visual inspection of the latches. He cautiously worked his way forward, hand over hand, alert to the protrusions in the forward section, the shine of the extended solar cells gleaming in the darkness.
“Thirty-five minutes left,” Antonova said. “You are close to the target. Proceed with caution.”
“Everybody keeps saying that,” Knox replied. “You’d think it was dangerous out here.”
“It is,” Antonova said. “We are monitoring your helmet camera, as is Launch Control.”
“Good. Sing out if you see anything.” Knox moved forward, grabbing onto the outermost handhold and swinging himself around to face the docking clamps. He scanned the structure, looking for any sign of trouble, and after only a few moments, found it. There was a scrap of plastic wrapped around one of the claws, floating lazily in space, and he reached out with the tongs and grabbed it, gently working it free, tugging it clear of the claw and sending it tumbling clear of the capsule.
“Great work,” Antonova said. “Though I find it hard to believe this problem can be solved so easily.”
“Agreed,” Knox replied. He turned to the supply module, and cursed, spotting a half-torn bag jammed inside the docking mechanism, dull grey that matched the hull, stuck fast to the module. He carefully drifted forward, hanging free between the two hatches, and added, “I assume you can see what I’m seeing.”
“I see it, and I’m going to hang the bastard who fouled up out to dry!” Baker yelled. “Bennett, I want a name, and I want it now, and I want that moron’s balls on a damned silver platter!”
“That can wait,” Knox said. “Looks like it’s jammed into position, stuck fast. We probably tore it open when we first attempted to dock. Can we attach with that in place?”
“I doubt it,” Murphy replied. “It’d probably happen again if we tried it. I’m willing to give it a go, but I’d want you back in the bay before I did it. Too much risk of flying debris from the claws.”
Nodding, Knox said, “I’m going in a little closer. See if I can work out a way to clear the mechanism.” He pushed in closer, reaching for the supply module, grabbing a handhold with one hand and working the tongs around the bag with the other, giving it an experimental tug. “No chance. It’s jammed fast, and I’m not going to be able to get enough purchase to pull it lose.”
“There’s got to be a way,” Antonova said.
“Maybe there is. General, do you still have full control of the supply pod?”
“That’s affirm.”
Looking at the bag again, Knox replied, “I’ve got an idea.”
“What?”
“If I tell you, I won’t get to do it.” He reached for the emergency thruster controls on his suit, br
inging them online, then attached his second safety line to the pack, giving it a sharp tug to make sure it was fast. He looked behind him, making sure he wasn’t about to run into anything, then fired his jets, a series of sharp pulses that sent him hurtling clear of the ship, out to the limit of his second, shorter safety line. He reached the end with a jerk, then recoiled back, heading directly towards the jagged docking claw.
“What the hell do you think you are doing?” Murphy yelled.
“Saving the day. I’ve got enough fuel for one more try.” Jamming the emergency override, he fired his thrusters again, and this time, when he reached the end of the line, he felt a loud snap, and looked up to see the bag drifting away. He breathed a sigh of relief as he floated free, drifting around and around with the ruptured supply pack spinning in orbit around him, then released the secondary line, the centrifugal force hurling it into space. He looked at the capsule, more than a hundred meters away, and reached for his line, the servos already engaging to bring him home.
“Nice work,” Baker said. “Do it again and I’ll see you’re assigned to Antarctica.”
“You’d have done the same thing in my place, General.”
“Just because I’m an idiot doesn’t mean you have to follow my example. Murph, proceed with the docking. We’ll stabilize the module from here.”
“Roger, closing to contact.” There was a long pause, and she added, “Thrusters firing. Kat, be ready with the clamps when I give the word.”
“I am ready,” Antonova replied.
Knox watched as the capsule smoothly moved back into position in front of the supply module once more, compensating for the brief drift as it gently glided towards its counterpart, the two sets of docking clamps abruptly locking fast, securing the capsule to the supply module at last.
“Hard dock, confirmed,” Antonova said. “We are secure. All systems appear good. I am opening the hatch now.” Knox waited, slowly making his way back to the ship, knowing that this was the last critical moment, that if this went wrong, everything he had risked would have been for nothing. “The hatch is open. All appears intact, all supplies are stowed and prepared for acceleration.”
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