by Homer Hickam
Inside the control room the panic had just begun....
The engineer nervously tapped at his keyboard, and then touched the screen, pulling up a schematic of the countdown network. “TCDC’s still counting. My override won’t work.”
Jack moved urgently to his master console. He initiated his own hold but the power to the pumps kept going. He looked at the numbers counting down. Shaking his head, he reluctantly went to his big gun, the icon marked TEAC. TEAC meant terminal deactivation. Clicking on TEAC was the same as jerking the power plug out of the wall. It was a hard shutdown of the TCDC and all the controller software. Not only would it shut everything down, but reconfiguring would take hours.
It went against his grain, but Jack had no choice. A gremlin was playing games with the TCDC software and would need ferreting out. All the dog engine software had been written quickly, a lot of it patched in from older programs. It had been tested in stages but never all at once. Jack cursed under his breath. He should have had an end-to-end software test run before he’d hooked up the hardware.
He bowed to the inevitable, moved the cursor over the TEAC icon, a clock face. Better fix it, no matter how much it hurt. He’d be talking to some software engineers this night, and not kindly either! The clock icon disappeared when he clicked on it. That wasn’t right. Then it winked back on. In the upper right-hand corner of the screen the TCDC showed one minute, zero seconds until activation. It kept counting down. Frantically, Jack went active on his headset, lighting up every push. “Clear the test stand—now!” he ordered. “This is Jack. All personnel, clear the test stand now!”
“Jack,” Paul Dalton, his assistant, said over his push, “what’s wrong?”
“Kate doesn’t have a headset,” Jack said in sudden realization. “The TCDC jumped ahead, Paul, and I can’t kill it. We’ve got less than a minute. Get everybody off the stand. Now!”
Other engineers were picking up on what he’d seen. Their fingers were punching up the test-stand loops, ordering everybody who could hear them to get away.
Jack threw down his headset and headed out the door, yelling at Paul to keep trying the TEAC. The test stand stood like a giant praying mantis above him as he came through the blast door. It rattled metallically as team members hurried down its steel steps. On the first level he stopped one of them. “Have you seen Kate?” The woman shook her head. Jack looked up into the shadowy maze of tubing and support beams and then saw a row of fire-retardant suits. He grabbed a jacket and gloves, pulling them on while he charged up the steps, two at a time.
He was almost knocked off his feet by a running technician. The man grabbed him. “Jack! We’ve been ordered off the stand!”
He shrugged him off. “Keep going! Go!” he yelled, and then flew up the steps, heading for level six, where the exhaust nozzle of the dog engine hung like a church bell, an impossibly complex maze of tubing and ducting running to it, preparing to nurture it into white-hot fury.
Then he saw Kate! She was at the bell, a clipboard in her gloved hands, scrutinizing the fine distribution pump. She was wearing sound-suppression earmuffs, to protect her ears from the high-pitched whine of the pumps. The engineer with her, also wearing the muffs, turned toward him, perhaps hearing the vibration of the steel platform as Jack raced toward them. He looked with openmouthed curiosity as Jack yelled and waved for them to get away. Jack heard the groan of the pumps coming up to speed, smelled the strangely sweet fumes of the oxidizer flushing through the pipes. He screamed another warning. Kate turned, saw him.
The engineer accompanying Kate was running. Jack passed him, reached for Kate when the nozzle bell suddenly became rigid with pressure, a shower of yellow sparks turning into a blue-white gush of fire. A gigantic shock-wave blew Kate toward him. For a moment he had hope she was going to escape. He reached for her as she opened her arms for him to embrace her.
And then, before his horrified eyes, a luminescent halo enveloped her, defining her shape, and then began to devour her. Her hand stretched out to him. An insane thought reached him: If he could just reach her, he could pull her out of the halo, protect her with his body.
Then he had her! Tendrils of fire ran over his gloves, up the arms of his coat, to his unprotected neck and face. He felt his flesh burning, the skin on his neck crackling like bacon. He ignored the pain, bringing her into his protective embrace. He reached for her waist, to pull her all the way to him. She felt sticky, soft, like hot dough. And then she fell backward. She was a shadow, black as the farthest reaches of space.
The great nozzle bell fell silent, as if its fury had been sucked up inside it. And then the luminance around Kate faded, leaving behind a dark shape that broke into two pieces and fell away. Jack’s glove was covered with a charred, dripping material. Something black and horrible seemed to writhe beneath him. When he started to scream, he thought he’d never stop....
Jack started awake. He had fallen asleep but his mind had kept going, reliving the old nightmare. Virgil was patting his face. “Jack, time to get with it, son.”
It took Jack a moment to remember where he was. Then all the rest came cascading back. He heard a noise, looked around, saw Penny floating past. If he expected at least a warm smile from her, he was disappointed. He looked after her, confused.
“I safed number two fuel cell,” Virgil said, coming up beside him. “I’ll troubleshoot while you eat breakfast. Number one is working just fine. If we can’t get number two up, we’d better head for home, at least by all the rules.”
“I guess we’re not much for rules on this mission,” Jack said, still watching Penny. She was gazing at the moon, her back turned.
“Sorry about yesterday, partner. I guess it got to me,” Virgil said.
He looked at the big man’s wide, expressive face. “You just had to let off some steam, Virg. No problem.”
Virgil nodded toward Penny. “I told her everything, Jack. About Kate and what’s down there. I’m sorry. I got tired of lying to her.”
Now Jack understood. “That’s okay, too, Virg. I don’t blame you.”
Virgil got busy elsewhere. Penny pulled herself away from the view ports and came determinedly hand over hand across the ceiling. She settled down in the pilot’s seat beside Jack. She stared straight ahead. “I want you to know I understand there’s no place for me in your heart, Jack—”
“Penny—”
“No. Let me have my say,” she said angrily, her eyes wetting. “You’re not going to find Kate down there. You already have her”—she turned to him, reached across the console, and touched his chest—”right there in your heart.”
He opened his mouth but no words came out.
“It must be wonderful to have someone love you so much that they would risk everything in life for you even after you’re dead. I’ve never known a love like that. I’m sure I never will.”
“Penny, will you just listen to me?”
“I am so envious of her. It’s insane but I am.”
He took her hand. “Don’t you understand that everything’s different now”—the words just leapt from his mouth, surprising him—”that I love you?”
She looked at him long and searchingly, then pulled her hand away. “Well, I don’t love you.”
Jack’s heart felt as if it were being squeezed.
“I can’t fault you, Jack,” Penny said sadly. “I have my own reason for being here too.” She peered ahead, watched the moon unscrolling below, craters piled on craters, sinuous rilles, soft-contoured mountains. “This is what I’ve always wanted, I think. What could be better than running all the way to the moon?”
She turned to face him. “I’m going to tell you something about myself. It’s important to me that you know.” She smiled ruefully. “There was this boy in high school. He... I got pregnant. My grandmother insisted I have an abortion, said there were enough half-breeds. They told me at the free clinic it would be so easy. I’ve hated myself for it ever since.” She bit at her lower lip, the tears floating f
rom her eyes. “Everybody said I was doing the right thing, that a baby would ruin my life, keep me from getting an education. I’m sure it was a little boy, Jack. I just can’t get him out of my mind. I keep trying but I just can’t. All my adventures have been just me running away from him.” She looked at her lap. “You can’t love me, Jack. Because I don’t know how to love you back. I have to keep running.”
Jack touched her shoulder, tried to find the words. He couldn’t. “I’m sorry” was the best he could do.
She raised her head, looked him in the eye. “Listen, Jack. Don’t go down there, okay? Let’s just go home.”
“No, we have to finish this.”
She squinted at him, then, in a spasm of despair, reached out and slapped him hard across his face. “You finish it,” she hissed while he held his cheek and stared at her. “You and your damn Kate!”
BACK ON-LINE
JSC
At the entrance to Johnson Space Center Sam confronted a guard wearing the PSS patch. Shirley scrunched down in the passenger seat of his pickup, trying to get as small as possible. Behind Sam’s truck was a traffic jam. Two more PSS guards came out of the guard shack, holding up their hands. “The base is closed!” they yelled. Shirley saw another PSS guard settle in behind a small sandbag barricade just behind the shack. He had a rifle. The line of pickups, the universal transportation choice of Houston mission controllers, idled furiously. “I have a right to be here,” he yelled at the guards. “You don’t. Who the hell hired you, anyway?”
“I’m warning you, mister,” the guard who had stopped him said, and then pulled a pistol from the holster strapped to his waist. Then the guard with the rifle cut loose with a round, hitting Sam’s windshield. Shirley screamed and scrambled to the floor, her hands over her head. The doors of the pickups behind suddenly were thrown open, Tate’s Turds all armed with pistols and rifles leveled at the guards. “Fire!” somebody yelled, and the PSS guards ducked for cover while a rain of lead shredded the shack and the barricade. Sam helped Shirley back into her seat. “Guess this outfit don’t know we got a law here in Texas, says we can carry concealed weapons in our vehicles.” The PSS guards had run for their lives.
Sam raised his hand, waved the convoy on.
“You’re not authorized to enter,” the PSS guard at Shuttle Mission Control growled. Sam walked past him. The guard went for his pistol and then stopped when the dozen mission controllers came trundling in behind their leader. They were all carrying guns. The guard meekly put his pistol back into its holster and found an exit door.
Sam burst into the empty SMC. “Baby, I’m back!”
Tate’s Turds followed, went to their consoles, fired them up, tucking their guns away. Sam stood proudly above them, vulturing grimly until he could no longer restrain himself. To the astonishment of his people he suddenly did a little jig and clapped his hands. “C’mon, folks! Let’s go back to the moon!”
BATTLE IN SPACE (4)
Columbia
In the glare of the cargo bay spotlights Jack went hand over hand down the guide wire of Columbia ’s starboard sill. Below, in shadow, was the far side of the moon. In preparation for the descent he had lowered the shuttle’s orbit to nine miles mean altitude and then rolled her over, bay down, tail forward. Getting that close to the surface made the timeline very tight but also allowed a quicker descent. Little Dog didn’t have the fuel reserves to allow a leisurely landing.
Jack could still feel the sting of Penny’s slap. He told himself to ignore it, put it aside, that it didn’t matter, never had. There never had been a chance for them. He had momentarily been fooled that she could be a part of his life, but the truth was Jack knew that he had no life; only this mission to the moon. He had to keep his focus. This was all that mattered. It was all that had ever mattered since the day he had caused Kate and their child to die. Jack went grimly ahead, one hand over the other. There was nothing aboard Columbia for him, nothing back on earth. Everything that meant anything was below, on the moon. He had to concentrate on only that.
He went past the ATESS tether boom, back in its locked position. Virgil had gone out, climbed the boom, and disentangled the BEM to let it go. Starbuck had signed off, anxious not to interfere with communications, critical in the next hour of operations. He had boosted the BEM’s orbit and reported he was following, keeping an eye on Columbia ’s wake. It was clean. Jack heard him report as he did on the hour. “BEM on patrol, Columbia. Everything’s clear.”
Jack inspected the Elsie dome, especially the ragged places left by the first BEM attack. The damage wasn’t critical. There were a dozen layers of material and only the first few seemed to have been breached. He moved down and inspected Little Dog. The compact rocket engine looked solid and powerful. It had better be, he thought.
Jack remembered the debate that had raged on Cedar Key as to the design of the landing system. One faction had demanded that there be two dog engines on the landing craft performing the same role as the two engines that had been aboard the Apollo Lem. The argument had to do with weight versus redundancy. Two engines would give Jack a chance to abort. One engine meant less weight. Jack had settled the argument. Only one engine would be used, and to lighten the load further, there would be no heavy landing gear. Instead, three inflatable spheres attached to the Elsie/Dog interface collar would be used. The spheres were made of the same tough material as the Elsie. There was also an extra ablative covering capable of withstanding the Little Dog’s fiery exhaust plume.
Jack inspected the landing spheres. Made out of the same material used by the Mars Pathfinder mission to land its payload, the spheres were designed to take the impact of the Elsie landing on the moon. A collapsible steel rod protruded from the collar to a tip ten feet beneath the spheres. When the rod touched the lunar surface, Little Dog would shut down automatically. It was a piece of KISS hardware that Jack always strived toward—Keep It Simple, Stupid.
A nylon Jacob’s ladder was rolled up at the hatch. Jack had never tested it but wasn’t too concerned. He wouldn’t be as far off the ground as the Apollo astronauts had been. If necessary Jack planned to simply sit down on the landing spheres and slide off. To get back on he would do what was needed, either taking advantage of the low gravity to jump back to the hatch, or, using the tethers around the collar, pull himself back up. He’d figure it out when he got there.
Jack climbed inside and inspected Virgil’s setup. Sunlight streamed through the double-pane portholes. Columbia was in the light zone, coming around over the Apollo 17 track. A laptop counted down. It was time for Jack to take his position in the footloops. He pushed the comm button. “Ready when you are, Virg.”
Virgil was at the controls of the RMS. “Roger that, Jack.”
Jack steadied himself as Virgil picked up the Elsie, rotated the arm over the bay. He watched the sill of the bay slip past and then he was looking at the moon below.
“Ready for release, Jack?”
It had been a long time since Jack had prayed. He did so now, a long stream of incomplete thoughts that included a jumble of hopes, dreams, requests.... ”Kate...” he whispered.
“Say again, Jack?” Virgil called.
Jack gripped the Elsie’s hand controller. Time to get this done. “I’m ready for release, Virg,” he said.
Farside Control
Starbuck kept his eye on the virtual video screen. His BEM was still trailing Columbia. A glint of sun caught the shuttle just before it went into shadow. The BEM followed dutifully behind. All seemed serene.
“Starbuck,” BEM Lead called. “Got something curious going on here. Memory’s being used in prodigious chunks by the HOE team.”
“How could that be?” Starbuck had told the HOE team to go home, the game over.
“Somebody is running the HOE full-up. They must have solved their circuit problem. But I can’t figure out how they’re getting in on our mainframe.”
Starbuck knew. They were doing it the same way he would have done it. They w
ere hacking him, breaking in and using his mainframe from a remote terminal. An easy job: they knew all the passwords. He thought of Carl Puckett. Puckett had gotten to the HOE team, bought their expertise. They were somewhere out there, hacking in on him. They had finally fixed HOE. It was a dangerous weapon that could tear Columbia to pieces.
Starbuck considered the situation. He could break off the modems but he was using them for at least one critical comm channel. He could simply shut down the computer. That would do it. Or would it? Starbuck would be off-line but the HOE team might have been copying the software to their own machines and could keep going. There was only one thing for him to do: go surfing.
The Elsie
Jack punched in the go-ahead and the Elsie’s verniers puffed briefly, rotating him into a head-down position. Little Dog fired for thirty seconds and then the Elsie’s laptop commanded verniers to pitch them back upright. Jack saw all the landmarks he’d memorized: the Lincoln Scarp came into view first, a long sinuous valley that snaked down to the Taurus-Littrow range, then the North Massif of the Sculptured Hills. It was an awesome sight, glorious. Jack’s heart raced. He was going to land on the moon. The Elsie gave him a tone, offering manual control. He took it.
Farside Control
Starbuck was surfing the code. He called up the HOE program and was not surprised to find himself locked out. He tried some obvious passwords, failed, and then dropped down into the initiation phase of the disk operating system. He’d written it himself and had left a back door so wide, a tractor trailer could drive through it. He called up the DOS and simply wiped out every password there and put in new ones. Maybe he couldn’t knock the HOE team off but if they dropped out for a nanosecond they’d have the devil to pay to get back in. He kept surfing, taking a curl through the disk directory, deleting anything that looked like HOE memory. He got a lot of it, but it was minor stuff and he knew it. The main HOE system was in use and the central processor wasn’t going to let him delete, change, or move any part of it until it stopped being used. By then, Starbuck figured, it wouldn’t matter.
