Space Station Crisis: Star Challengers Book 2

by Rebecca Moesta

  And ships—dozens and dozens of alien craft on launch pads. JJ recognized spacecraft like the ones that had bombarded Moonbase Magellan … and other small vessels that looked like polished metal starfish.

  “Recon-1 was taking images on the fly, but there seems to be no response so far.” Bronsky sounded immensely pleased. “Maybe the aliens did not notice our ship.”

  “Maybe the aliens aren’t worried about us,” Ansari said in a disheartened voice. “After all, we couldn’t defend the moonbase when they attacked, and we haven’t gone back there in a year. Maybe the aliens don’t think we’re capable of mounting any response.”

  “Realistically, what response can Earth make?” Mira asked in an edgy tone. “They’re ten times more advanced than humans are.”

  Three of the ominous starfish ships rose up from the launchpads and began to spin like ninja throwing stars. Like predators on the hunt, the alien craft streaked off after Recon-1, twirling all the while.

  “Uh-oh, they spotted the probe after all,” JJ said. “These pictures were a few minutes old.”

  “But the probe survived and made it around the Moon,” King said.

  “Until now, at least.” JJ looked at the tactical trace on another screen, which showed the orbital path of the probe. On the recorded images, Recon-1 raced away from the alien base, heading toward the lunar horizon where it could send its desperate transmission, but the starfish-vessels closed on it.

  “I think they mean business,” Tony said.

  “They must be on their way right now,” Bronsky said with a sinking feeling. “It is over, I’m afraid.”

  The last images they all saw were the whirligig alien craft closing in. JJ knew the clunky, patchwork probe could not possibly outrun them. Bright white energy blasts sparked from the tips of the metal starfish arms … and then, in a burst of static, the screen went blank. JJ winced.

  Dr. d’Almeida had directed her telescopes toward the Moon, and now she recorded images of the alien starfish ships leaving the wreckage of the probe, turning, and racing back to the far side of the Moon, where they disappeared from view again.

  Stationmaster Ansari let out an angry sigh. Bronsky’s eyes filled with tears, which broke free when he blinked and drifted around Central like tiny transparent pearls in the weightlessness. “She was a good ship, and she served us to the last.”

  Ansari tried her best to sound reassuring. “The mission was a success. Those images will be vital for our planning.”

  “Planning for what?” Tony asked. “Anybody got a brilliant idea?”

  “Across the whole human race, someone must have a brilliant idea,” JJ said, and she meant it.

  A transmission came in from CMC. On the screen, Colonel Fox said, “We received the initial recon information we had hoped for, and our experts will begin studying the data immediately.” He cleared his throat, sounding all-business. “Stationmaster Ansari, now it’s even more imperative that the Eye in the Sky is launched on schedule. It will provide a vital early warning of Kylarn activity on the Moon. We’ve got to get the satellite up to the Lagrange stable point. Will it be launched on schedule?”

  Ansari looked uncomfortable. “The entire Sat team is still suffering from food poisoning, Colonel. They are in no condition to go back to work.”

  “All four of them?” said Fox. “Are you sure no one else is qualified to do the final pre-launch check?”

  “I’m qualified,” Mira said. “I worked with the team for two days to set up the system. There’s a datapad checklist. I am confident I could get the Eye in the Sky ready for launch. Let me handle it.”

  “We’ll volunteer, too,” JJ said. She and her class had done a similar task during their Challenger Center mission. While this was a far more complex situation, she knew that Commander Zota would want them to try.

  “Yes, we’ll help.” King nodded. “The mission is the most important thing.”

  Mira seemed uncomfortable. “That’s … not necessary.”

  “I know a bit about electronics, and it’s always useful to have a backup,” King insisted. Though the other girl frowned, she did not press her argument.

  JJ leaned closer to the communication screen. “We’ll get the Eye in the Sky launched on time, Colonel Fox—you can count on us.”

  The British officer lifted his chin. “I’m inclined to let them try it, Stationmaster Ansari. We know the capabilities of those young people.”

  “I concur,” said Ansari. “Cadets, the satellite mission is yours.”

  ***

  Fourteen

  The mood aboard the ISSC was glum after the Kylarn destroyed the Recon-1 probe. Now, JJ was sure that the aliens would be alert to stop any further observation probes sent directly to the Moon.

  The Eye in the Sky satellite, on the other hand, would be in a position from which its high-resolution telescope could watch for any sign of aliens heading toward Earth—and keep a distant eye on the base. The satellite would be launched to a gravitationally stable point along the path on which the Moon orbited the Earth.

  Dr. d’Almeida showed JJ, King, and Tony a diagram of the Earth-Moon system. “They’re called Lagrangian Points,” she said, “specific places in the Moon’s orbit where the gravity of the Earth and Moon effectively cancel each other, so a satellite can sit there, completely stationary. We’re most interested in the point named L-4, a spot that is sixty degrees ahead of the Moon as it orbits the Earth. If we can place the Eye in the Sky satellite there, it will be safely far away from the alien base, but we can still keep an eye on the lunar farside. We’ll be able to get a warning as soon as the Kylarn decide to move.”

  “Like a lookout tower,” JJ said.

  The astronomer nodded. “A good analogy. But the satellite will be very far away from any human intervention. We have to make certain it functions properly.”

  “That’s our job,” King said.

  When Lifchez heard that JJ, King, and Mira had been assigned to complete the final preparation checklist for launching the Eye in the Sky satellite, the Sat team leader tried to crawl out of bed in Medical, though he was still deathly ill. In the microgravity, this amounted to the patient unstrapping himself from the medbed and squirming out into the middle of the room, where he was unable to stop himself from spinning—which only made him feel more nauseated.

  Fortunately, Song-Ye came in and found Lifchez, grabbed his arm and guided him back to his bed, where she strapped him down, ignoring his weak struggles. “I need to be there for the satellite launch!” he protested. “I’ve got to check all the systems.”

  Dr. Romero pulled herself into the Med module and hurried to the bed. She gave him a scolding cluck. “In your condition, you probably couldn’t see the result numbers straight anyway.”

  “Don’t worry, JJ and King will figure it out,” Song-Ye said. “You can trust them.”

  Lifchez’s further arguments came out as little more than moans.

  On the other side of the Medical, Major Rodgers also struggled on his bed. “Checking the satellite isn’t good enough. We need the robotic arm to launch it—it’s a very complicated operation, and I’m the only one qualified.” The payload specialist held out his hand, palm flat and fingers outstretched; his whole arm was shaking.

  “Needs a steady touch, and that certainly isn’t me.” He let out a long sigh.

  “Then someone else will have to do it,” Dr. Romero said. “You’re in no condition.”

  “Who else?” Rodgers said. “It takes quick reactions, familiarity with automated controls for waldo arms, and steady guidance. No one else has time to learn it, especially now that the whole Sat crew is down.” He winced and pressed a hand against his stomach.

  “I bet Tony can,” Dyl said. “He’s a whiz at video games, can operate all kinds of complicated joysticks and hand controls—and he even studies robotics. He won a science fair project by building and controlling his own robot.”

  Rodgers did not look convinced, but stared again at his
shaking hands. “I can train him from here, if Dr. Romero lets me use one of the screens. We may as well give Cadet Vasquez a shot. Let’s see what he can do.”

  When JJ and King pulled their way into the equipment module to go over the satellite checklist, Mira had already started without them. “I was wondering when you would get here.” The other girl sounded impatient. “Stationmaster Ansari gave me clearance to begin the prep.”

  “We’re due to launch in two hours,” King said. “That should be plenty of time to check and double-check all systems. No mistakes this time.”

  “No, no mistakes.” Mira looked as if she wanted to say more, but kept her words to herself. “I’ve already inspected the propulsion systems and attitude-adjustment thrusters, and I was about to verify the optics.” She made it sound like she didn’t need the other two at all.

  JJ pulled out a datapad that held the checklist. “We should all three go through every one of the systems as a triple-check.”

  “Works for me,” King said.

  The refrigerator-sized satellite hung in the middle of the equipment module, tethered in place. The three floated around it on all sides, moving from top to bottom, and all the way around its diameter. King opened the metal covering of an electronics panel and tested the circuits one by one to make sure all were connected properly and functional.

  JJ ran a self-test on the logic boards and checked the power systems. While she and King occupied themselves with small talk, Mira remained intent on the optical-imaging systems, telescopes, and sensors. She certainly wasn’t overly friendly.

  “We did a mission just like this in the Challenger Center,” King said. “I had to hook up and test the circuits. It’s the same sort of procedure—and I understand it a lot better now that I took that Intro to Electronics class online.”

  “I never thought I’d get my hands on an actual satellite,” JJ said, moving to the next panel. “This is a lot bigger than Sputnik, the first satellite ever launched. That was only about the size of a beach ball.” The Soviet launch of Sputnik in 1957 had caused so much alarm in the U.S. that the event had ignited the space race, with each country striving to outdo the other.

  The Kylarn threat was a similar wakeup call and had launched an altogether different sort of space race, in which all the countries of Earth worked together with a common goal.

  When they each completed their parts of the checklist, they traded duties for the double-check. JJ moved to the optics, King verified the propulsion systems, and Mira checked the electronics and logic boards. After switching again for one final round, the three Cadets gave the satellite a clean bill of health.

  JJ glided to the intercom and transmitted to Central. “Forty-five minutes to spare, Stationmaster. The Eye in the Sky is ready to launch.”

  Since Tony had already tinkered with robotics and had built devices for science fairs, he was fascinated with the ISSC's robot arm, which would help launch the satellite. While JJ, King, and Mira finished the final checklist for the Eye in the Sky, Major Rodgers trained Tony in how to use the system.

  The ISSC had four advanced mechanical arms, jointed and delicate manipulators that could be guided with absolute precision. The intuitive hand controls made the most advanced videogames Tony had ever played seem like cheap little toys.

  One of the articulated arms was connected to the Equipment Module and had specifically been designed to help launch satellites. The plan was to reach in, grasp the Eye in the Sky, lift it carefully out of the open bay, and nudge it off into space, like a gentle slow-motion baseball pitch. Since it was too dangerous to fire rockets so close to the station, the Eye in the Sky would have to be moved a safe distance from the ISSC before its main thruster could ignite. The rocket would carry the satellite far away from Earth to L-4, the gravitational balancing point, where it could keep an eye on the Moon.

  “I trained for months on this system,” Rodgers said to Tony from a viewscreen on the wall. His skin looked gray and pale, and his hands continued to shake. “But I’m in no condition to launch the satellite—and it needs to go.”

  “Don’t worry, just show me what to do,” Tony said.

  Rodgers watched him at the controls, instructed him in how to move the mechanical grasping arm up and down, side to side, and in combinations. “It’s not complicated, but it might feel unnatural at first.”

  Tony had used smaller waldoes to pick up weights and samples that were sealed inside containers during the Challenger Center field trip, but he had never expected to be doing this for real.

  The arm raised and lowered. The mechanical clamp fingers opened and closed. “Just like an extension of myself,” he said. “I feel like I could close my eyes and just touch the tip of my nose.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t,” Rodgers said.

  Instead, Tony moved the mechanical hand up and down. “There, I’m waving!”

  “You seem comfortable enough with the systems, Cadet, but you’re not ready yet. I have devised a set of special exercises—tiny manipulations designed to enhance your dexterity with the mechanical arm. I want you to feel like you’re able to shuffle and cut a deck of cards in space.”

  Tony laughed. “All right, then! By the time we’re done, I’ll be ready to play poker with the Kylarn.”

  Normally, aboard the space station, Dr. Romero would have little to do in the sickbay—very few crewmembers were ever sick or injured—so her duties included numerous biological experiments as well. Many of the tests were similar to those Song-Ye had helped the doctor conduct on Moonbase Magellan, studying plant growth and the effects of adverse environments on laboratory animals, such as the hamster Newton.

  “I’ve still got patients,” Romero told Dyl and Song-Ye, “but some of these experiments need to be checked or the data won’t be useful.”

  “And the mice, rats, and hamsters still need to be fed,” Song-Ye said.

  “Just don’t give them anything with food poisoning in it,” Dyl added. They all groaned.

  “It would be a big help if you cadets could check the water supply to the plants and animal cages and dispense the proper amount of food.” Romero smiled. “Try not to play with the lab animals too much.”

  Song-Ye was clearly disappointed. “Isn’t that part of the experimental requirements?”

  “All right—just don’t let any of them loose. Nobody wants to chase around a weightless lab rat!”

  Small cages of hamsters, white mice, and lab rats floated among the hydroponics globes, surrounded by the fresh-smelling fruits and vegetables, the bubbling of the water-recirculation channels. One of the hamsters tumbled along inside a weightless transparent ball. The creature had been born up here in orbit and had never set foot on solid ground.

  “We were trying to get the lab mice to work on tiny treadmills,” Romero said, sounding amused, “but that experiment didn’t work out as planned.”

  After consuming plenty of electrolyte fluids and medications, Lifchez and Rodgers were stable enough that Dr. Romero grudgingly let them leave Medical for an hour, although they still looked extremely ill. Queasy and shaky, and in no condition to operate controls, they gathered in Central to observe the deployment of the Eye in the Sky.

  “Relax,” JJ said to them. “We’ve got it covered.”

  A proud JJ, King, and Mira watched as the Equipment Module was depressurized and the bay doors opened. Although Rodgers was still too unsteady to manipulate the controls of the robotic arm, fortunately Tony had passed his training with flying colors, and had mastered the sensitive operations. The payload specialist judged him to be the most skilled, healthy member of the crew for the moment, and recommended him to operate the robotic arm. There was no margin for error.

  Using delicate adjustments, Tony bent the manipulator arm downward from the exterior of the station, watching the screen and the camera. His eyes were fixed with complete concentration as the multi-axis arm reached into the module like a complicated extension of his own arm. Breathing slowly and carefully,
he closed the clamps a few millimeters at a time to grasp the Eye in the Sky. “Got it.”

  “Ready for deployment,” Rodgers said in a wobbly voice. “Use an easy touch, Cadet.”

  JJ watched closely as Tony gently guided the satellite out of its holding cradle, then drew it out of the ISSC, where it could be released into space. Once the Eye in the Sky drifted far enough away from the space station, a propulsion rocket would push the satellite into a higher orbit and accelerate the automated satellite all the way out to L-4, the stable orbital point. When it reached the Lagrange Point, the Eye in the Sky telescopes would orient themselves to keep watch on the distant Moon. Attitude-control thrusters would keep all of the sensors aligned in the right direction for uninterrupted observation.

  “We ran simulations of the propulsion systems again and again, and ran simulations,” Lifchez said. “But you never know whether it will work until it actually works.”

  Pi started the countdown after the satellite reached a safe separation distance from the ISSC, gradually falling behind them in orbit. When the Eye in the Sky was just a small speck, they were ready for positioning. Dr. d’Almeida’s external telescopes showed a magnified image of the satellite.

  “Use the attitude-control thrusters to align to the precise vector, Mr. Pi,” Ansari said. “The satellite has to be pointed in the right direction when the rocket thrusters burn. Once it heads out to L-4, the Eye in the Sky will be out of our reach.” The rocket would lift the satellite far away from Earth, out to the distance of the Moon, but well ahead of it in orbit, like the pace car in a race.

  “Testing attitude-control number one.” Pi fired a short burst of the compressed gas, which set the satellite slowly spinning. “And attitude-control number two.” An equal burst in the opposite direction slowed the rotating Eye in the Sky. “Perfect. Now for number three. This one’s to put it on the correct trajectory, and then we can ignite the main thruster rocket.” He fired a burst, and JJ saw a tiny puff of gas hissing out of the thruster. Telescope images picked up all the details.