Helium 3: Fight for the Future
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“People, you talk too much,” said David. “It’s time to get ready for docking.”
“If we didn’t have to get into the OCSS suits, we would’ve been ready long ago,” Livia commented. “I can’t help wondering whose idea they were.”
“If the automatic docking system fails and the Orion crashes into the Gateway and springs a leak, you’ll be glad you’re wearing it.”
“You’re a born optimist, Dave. When was the last time an automatic docking system failed? That must have been in ISS times. If we do crash into the Gateway, then we deserve everything we get.”
“Enough talk. Close your helmets,” Dave commanded.
Daniel pushed the glass visor forward until it clicked into place. Now he was sitting in his own mini spaceship, which warmed and cooled him, provided him with fresh air, and removed stale air. He could survive up to six days in an OCSS if Dave’s gloomy warning became a reality. Someone had told him during astronaut training that he should never, never, never express such doubts. Always stay positive. But that kind of superstition was alien to David Willinger, Commander of Artemis VI.
“Right, I’m now reporting to Gateway,” Dave said. “Autopilot confirmed.”
“Autopilot running,” said Livia.
The station appeared on the screen in front of Daniel. Compared to the ISS, which he’d visited two years earlier, it looked tiny. It seemed to consist of nothing but the SEP—Solar Electric Propulsion system—with its solar panels jutting out into space. They’d dock onto the central module. To their left hung the lander, and to the right the pressure module where they’d live. A green circle was flashing in the middle of the central module indicating the station in lunar orbit was ready for them.
“Gateway online,” Daniel said.
They were observing the ‘four-eyes principle’ while approaching the Lunar Gateway. Livia or Daniel had to check and confirm every command issued by their captain.
“Mission Control, Artemis VI here, Commander Willinger. Requesting permission to approach.”
“Permission granted. Have fun, you three.”
“Hopefully the reception committee has already laid the table and chilled the beer.”
“Of course, Dave,” said Luna, their CapCom. “I’m supposed to ask how you like your steak.”
“Medium rare, please.”
He was gently nudged upward. Then suddenly everything was still. Daniel was slightly disappointed. In the simulations, there had always been a loud bang during docking. Somehow that would have been more reassuring. The fact that all the warning sounds and lights went out immediately made it even less spectacular.
“So, here we are,” Dave said. “Mission Control, Artemis VI is reporting successful coupling to the Gateway.”
“We confirm that,” said the CapCom. They could hear half-hearted clapping in the background. The moon landing two years ago received much louder applause, but Daniel wasn’t bothered. It meant he wouldn’t have to give hundreds of interviews when he returned.
“What can you see on the other side?” asked Dave.
“Gateway status is normal,” replied the CapCom. “Twenty percent oxygen, life support system running, it’s just a little cool.”
“So we can change into our sweats?” asked Livia.
“Don’t you dare! Remember, everything is broadcast live as soon as the airlock opens. No more bad jokes, please.”
“That was meant for you, Dave,” said Livia.
“As if your jokes are brilliant!” said Dave.
“Hey, pull yourselves together. We don’t want a repeat of what happened on the talk shows after the launch.”
Willinger had cracked a really stupid joke when they reached orbit two days ago, just as they went live on television.
“Yes, Luna, I’ve learned my lesson,” said Dave.
He actually sounded quite contrite. Willinger was sometimes a little rough around the edges, but he wasn’t a bad guy. He probably would have been more at home among the astronauts of the 1970s.
“Good,” said the CapCom. “You can go through when you’re ready.”
“One, two, three,” said Dave.
He and Livia pushed against the hatch while Daniel braced himself against the soles of their feet floating above him. The dark life support cables hung from them like umbilical cords. The hatch was in the dome of the Orion capsule’s cabin. There appeared to be a slight difference in pressure between the Gateway airlock and their spaceship. The last crew, Artemis V, had reported similar problems. The pressure sensor in the airlock wasn’t working as well as intended, and the hatch stuck fast like the lid of a preserve jar.
Suddenly his crewmates’ legs gave way, and Daniel was fired upward by the tension in his own body. He grabbed a strut and stabilized himself.
“We’re through,” Dave reported.
A camera drone flew around Daniel’s head, annoying him. He tried to bat it away with his hand. At least the viewers were seeing some action. A docking maneuver like this was routine and unexciting. Maybe Mission Control had deliberately maladjusted the pressure sensor? No, the engineers there wouldn’t allow it.
“Congratulations,” said CapCom Luna. “Now you’re one step closer to landing on the moon.”
That was true. However, she didn’t mention that it wouldn’t be decided until later which of them would get into the lander. One of them would have to stay onboard the Gateway for security reasons, even though there was room for all three of them. Two black Americans, a woman and a man, together on the moon—that would be a powerful image for the media. Although Mission Control insisted they would come to a decision that was best for the mission, they wouldn’t be able to entirely disregard external pressures.
“Daniel? You can come through now,” said Dave.
“Mission Control? Can you confirm that?” he asked.
When leaving the capsule, one astronaut had to maintain launch readiness until the station was declared secure.
“Everything’s fine,” said Luna. “Have a nice stay.”
Daniel quickly unbuckled his belt. He wasn’t in any hurry to get to the station, but he wanted to get out of the suit. His bladder was full, and if he hurried he wouldn’t have to use the diaper.
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Copyright © 2021 by Brandon Q. Morris and Cliff Allister
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Translator: Tegan Raleigh
Editing team: Marcia Kwiecinski, A.A.S., and Stephen Kwiecinski, B.S.
Cover design: Rigest Rami