by Dean M. Cole
"Sir, we need to abandon the station," Angela said.
"What?!" Teddy said.
Angela held up a hand toward the Cupola and the Russian cosmonaut inside it. "We are already on minimal rations. Considering our logistical situation here, we can't afford to chance an extended break in communications."
"I concur, Commander Brown," the director said. "I want you guys on the ground before that wave hits Houston. At a minimum, it's knocking out communications. If it's also disrupting or frying computer networks, you could be stranded up there for a while."
Angela pointed at Bill and gestured toward the distant airlock. He nodded.
While the major began to unclip himself from the array's hard points, she actuated the robotic arm. Attached to her lower legs, it carried her away from the array, the arm's long length undulating as she demanded its top speed. Even at this rate, it would take three to four minutes for the arm to traverse its long tracks and deposit her at the airlock.
As the orbiter's great circle route now took them southeast over the Alps, Angela scanned the horizon. She couldn't see the wall of light. After reporting the fact to Houston, she said, "Has it dissipated?"
"No," McCree said. "It's still expanding. We've plotted the ring of energy on your orbital track. I have it up on the main display. You're crossing the epicenter now."
After a brief pause, the director's voice returned with an urgent tone. "I just received the reentry timing from Telemetry. You need to be aboard the Soyuz and heading earthward in the next five minutes. Otherwise, you're going to fly through the wall during your descent and come down in the affected zone."
"Holy shit," Angela whispered. She toggled the station-wide channel and yelled, "Teddy!"
"On it, Command-Oh!"
Angela's respiration rate redoubled. Jesus Christ! It normally took a half-hour just to run the escape module's pre-flight checklist. Teddy, the diminished crew's only civilian was a mission specialist, not a pilot, although, like every other crew member, he'd received extensive training on Soyuz operations for this very contingency.
She looked at Bill, their actual pilot. Over her head, the astronaut was moving hand-over-hand toward the distant airlock. He was falling behind her. The requirement to maintain a constant tether was slowing him down.
"Free flight it, Bill. You'll never make it at that rate."
"Roger, Commander."
He unclipped the tether. After a pause to judge the trajectory, Major Peterson launched himself toward the airlock.
"If you start to drift off course, use your jet pack."
"No need," Major Peterson said. "Looks like I nailed the vector on the first try. Just have to stick the landing."
Angela adjusted the robotic arm so that her back faced the planet and her helmet pointed toward the airlock. Now oriented toward the truss, she watched as the spacesuited body of Major Bill Peterson flew over its multiple structures. With his arms extended, he looked like Superman flying over an arcane angular construct. A moment later, he overtook her, his flight speed outstripping the manipulator arm's laggardly pace. As he reached the Quest airlock, Bill grasped the bar over the closed hatch and stopped his inertia with a grunt of exertion.
While closed for the safety of those inside the station, the lock was left depressurized during spacewalks. This permitted a rapid ingress in case of an EVA emergency.
Bill opened the door and slid into the airlock feet first and then looked back at her. Angela was still twenty feet away.
She waved a gauntlet at him. "Don't wait for me. Rapid cycle it, Major."
He nodded and then disappeared into the crew airlock, pulling the hatch closed.
"Hurry every chance you get, Bill. Once you're in, place the station in Assured Safe Crew Return. As soon as you toggle ASCR mode, get your ass in the Soyuz and help Teddy finish the pre-flight checks."
"I got this, Commander."
Angela felt her face flush. Major Peterson should have been named mission commander, not her. She knew he would have been if the focus of the current expedition hadn't been on her gravity wave experiment.
She checked the watch strapped to her left wrist. "How's it coming in there, Teddy?"
"Soyuz is online, but the damned gyros spooled down again. I have them spinning up now."
Angela nodded. "Good job." If the Soyuz departed with unstable gyros, the ship would likely enter the atmosphere on its head and burn up.
"Bill and I won't have time to don our Russian suits. We'll have to enter the descent modules in these. We'll ditch the jet packs. Everything else is coming along for the ride. It'll be cramped and uncomfortable, but we'll have to make it work."
The bulky Simplified Aid for EVA Rescue (SAFER) backpack, barely fit through many of the station's passageways. While the jet pack was significantly smaller than previous versions, it would never fit into the Soyuz, especially with all three seats occupied.
"Hey, Command-Oh," Teddy said, his surfer boy persona back in full effect. "I guess that supply ship blowing up wasn't such a bad thing after all, eh?"
Angela smiled ruefully at his bastardization of her title. "Maybe so, Teddy."
Actually, she knew he was right. The catastrophic loss of last month's resupply mission had required an early return of three of the station's residents. Bob Everett, the expedition commander up to that point, had returned with a fever and abdominal pains that turned out to be the onset of appendicitis. He and the other two crew members still being aboard would have made this significantly more difficult.
Angela grabbed the airlock's external grab bar and toggled the manipulator arm's release button. She felt a click in the sole of her boots, and then they were free from the bindings. As she pulled away from the device and pointed her feet back toward the planet, the Black Sea rolled beneath them.
Commander Brown looked southeast, and her eyes widened.
"Jesus Christ!"
"What is it, Commander?" Major Peterson said.
"We're approaching the other side of the light wave." Angela shook her head. "It hasn't faded one damn bit."
She consulted her watch.
Less than two minutes left until they had to be on their way.
Damn it!
"How's it coming in there, Bill?" As she asked the question, the airlock's external light tripped green.
"I've already dumped my SAFER and initiated ASCR mode. The airlock should finish cycling any sec—"
"It just did," Angela said as she opened the lock's outer door. "I'm going in now. You boys better be ready to go when I get in there. We're cutting it damn close."
"Yes, ma'am," they replied in unison.
In her own ears, the commands sounded paper-thin. Why should these two men bend to the will of a theoretical physicist high on her own power?
"Not now, Angela," she whispered, making sure not to transmit. "Not the time for self-doubts." Shaking her head, she closed the outer door and locked it. Then she slammed the side of a closed fist into the atmospheric cycler.
Nothing happened!
No rush of air.
The status segment remained unchanged.
She was still in hard vacuum.
Aiming precisely, she pressed the button again, this time using her glove's thumb to push the control's geometric center.
Nothing!
"Damn, damn, damn!"
"What is it, Command-Oh?" Teddy said.
"The lock won't cycle!"
"Uh-oh," Major Peterson said. He grunted with exertion. "I'm on my way."
Angela looked at her watch and shook her head. "Belay that, Major Peterson. You're in charge now. Lock the hatch and launch the Soyuz."
"I'm not leaving you behind, Commander. We can—"
"That's an order, Major!" she said, willing her voice to hold, to not crack. "Launch the capsule. You only have twenty-five seconds."
"But—"
"Listen, guys," Angela said, cutting off Teddy's protest. "I'll be fine. It'll take a few minutes, but I can man
ually cycle the lock. I'm the lucky one. I get to hang out up here for a while longer. But if you don't launch now, you'll fly into that wall of light, and we have no idea what that will do to the descent module."
"This is bullshit!" Teddy said.
"Fifteen seconds!" Angela said urgently.
"Major Peterson, this is Director McCree. Commander Brown is right. Because of this supply shortage, if we lose communications or the ability to bring you back for anything more than a couple of weeks, you'll run out of food and water. There aren't enough supplies to support all three of you for an extended time. But if there's just one person …" He left the sentence unfinished.
"Why don't we just stay with her and then descend after the light passes?" Teddy said plaintively.
"No!" Director McCree said. "Without communications, we can't coordinate the link-up. You could come down in a remote area or the open ocean. You'd be more likely to die from exposure than be found. You need to launch now, Major Peterson!"
Angela watched the sweep-second hand of her watch race toward the deadline. "Go, Bill!"
"Okay, Angela," the major whispered. "Houston, the hatch is closed. Blowing the locks in three, two, one."
"This is bullshit!" Teddy repeated.
As time ran out, Angela felt a slight tremor pass through the hand that rested on the airlock's skin.
"Houston," Major Peterson said somberly. "Soyuz is away."
Chapter 2
"Damn it, Vaughn. You sound like an asthmatic trying to crest Everest."
"Screw you, too," Army Captain Vaughn Singleton said between wheezes. Bent at the waist, hands on knees, he cast a sideward glance at Mark, his tormentor. Vaughn drew another wheezing breath and gave his old flight schoolmate the middle-finger salute. "You're number one with me, asshole."
"Wow!" Mark gestured to the large, cavernous room ahead of them. "So that's my thanks for getting you into the new vacuum chamber?"
Beginning to catch his breath, Vaughn stood upright. His spacesuit's boots disappeared beneath the planetary body of his considerable abdomen. He gestured to the suit. "You didn't tell me these things weighed five hundred pounds. This is like doing a twenty-mile forced march with a VW Beetle strapped to my back."
Lieutenant Colonel Mark Hennessy made a show of looking over his shoulder and then back at Vaughn. Behind his visor, the astronaut cocked an eyebrow. "I've told you a trillion times not to exaggerate. You're lucky these are the lightweight suits." The man gestured over his shoulder. "Besides, it's only been a hundred yards."
Vaughn shrugged. After gulping down another breath, he said, "Feels more like a thousand."
"Jesus, Singleton, just think if you hadn't been breathing pure oxygen for the last seven hours."
"Yeah, but that was just sitting around, doing nothing, not walking around with a car strapped to my back."
Mark pointed at Vaughn's belly. "It ain't on your back, my friend. You wouldn't be breathing so hard if you didn't have to haul that around."
"Did I mention that you're still number one with me?" Vaughn said, not bothering to throw the unicorn this time.
Mark chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. "Come on. We're almost there."
As they walked, Vaughn stared up at the distant top of the fifty-foot-wide door that stood open ahead of the two spacesuited men. They were about to enter the new Space Power Annex, the first human-rated, large-scale vacuum chamber.
"It's like stepping into a giant beer can," Vaughn said.
Mark laughed and pointed to his abdomen again. "That's your tool shed talking."
Vaughn winced inwardly at the second reference but smiled and patted his beer belly. "Don't be hating on the shed." He pointed into the facility. "Whatever the hell it looks like, thanks for getting me in, Mark."
The astronaut gave a slight nod and smiled. "Just don't screw up."
Vaughn held up both hands, palms forward. "Hey, I'm just a sandbag on this one. What's to screw up?" As Vaughn said it, a bead of sweat trickled across his right eyebrow. The hand he diverted to dab the droplet ran into the helmet visor … again. Mark apparently hadn't seen the foible. He appeared to be studying something inside the large chamber ahead. Feigning purpose, Vaughn shifted his errant hand and adjusted a knob on the side of his spacesuit's helmet and then lowered his arm. After a self-conscious glance at his old friend, he stared into the 150-foot-tall chamber beyond the square opening. Inside that beer can, they'd soon be in a hard vacuum.
Vaughn's eyes fell from the doorway to his ever-expanding gut. He really needed to start running. He'd been telling himself that ever since finishing flight school ten years ago but had never gotten around to it. And since the shit hit the fan last year, tomorrow always seemed like a better time to start.
As if reading his mind, Mark said, "Have you heard from Jill?"
"No, thank God." Vaughn shook his head. "She's the last person on earth I want to talk to right now."
"That's kind of harsh, isn't it? I mean, all things considered …"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Vaughn stopped and turned to look at Mark.
The lieutenant colonel held up his hands in surrender. "Nothing, never mind."
Vaughn frowned at him for a moment, but then a grin eased across his face. "I know, I can be a bit of an asshole at times."
"At times?" Mark said with a chuckle as they resumed their labored stroll toward the vacuum chamber's massive door. "Damn entitled rich kid," he added, grinning as well.
Vaughn cocked an eyebrow and gave the tall man a sideways glance. "How's that spacesuit fitting, Chewy? Does your fur get matted in there?"
Chuckling as they finished trading well-worn barbs from their old flight school days, the two men passed through the wide opening and stepped into the chamber.
Vaughn looked up. A long cable hung from an overhead hoist that ran from the center of the domed ceiling. The hook at the bottom of its hundred-foot span supported today's experiment. Studying the attached object, he stared at the machine's arcane plumbing and electronics. Vaughn felt his pulse quicken again, but not from exertion. This was pure exhilaration.
"Now there's a shit-eating grin," Mark said.
"This is so cool!" Vaughn whispered. "I can't believe you get to work with it every day."
The shoulders of Mark's spacesuit rose and fell. "I guess it beats working for a living."
Vaughn heard a loud clunk. The cocooning helmet made it sound as if the noise had come from every direction.
Apparently seeing his confusion, Mark hitched a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing behind them. "They're closing the door."
Wide-eyed, the Army attack helicopter pilot turned and watched the narrowing gap through which they'd entered. Vaughn's wheezing returned as he began to hyperventilate, thoughts of the impending drop into vacuum evaporating his excitement.
"Oh, Jesus," Vaughn said between breaths. He pointed at his spacesuit. "I don't know, Mark. Are you sure about these? What if a seal fails?"
A nasal voice blared from the speaker in Vaughn's helmet. "Are you guys alright in there?"
Mark toggled the radio. "Yes, Sandusky Control. Captain Singleton is … acclimating … to his suit."
Vaughn started to bend over again, but Mark grabbed his right shoulder and held him upright. The astronaut switched back to their private channel. "Come on, brother." Mark gave him a meaningful look and then nodded toward a wall-mounted camera. "I vouched for you."
The annoying voice returned. "Okay, Team Sigma, but I have to tell you, if Captain Singleton's heart rate gets much higher, I'll have to call it. Can't have the young man stroking out on us in the middle of the experiment."
Vaughn took a deep breath and then held it, willing himself to chill out.
Mark waved to the camera. "He'll be fine."
After a pregnant pause, a long sigh came over the radio. Finally, the man in Sandusky Control said, "Roger. We're a go at this end."
Vaughn released the held breath and then twitched when
the massive door closed with a final clunk, sealing them inside the world's largest vacuum chamber.
Still looking into the camera, Mark patted Vaughn's shoulder with one gloved hand and held out the other, thumb extended. "Roger, Sandusky. We're a go in here as well."
Vaughn looked at the atmospheric pressure gauge embedded in his suit's left forearm. Except for the farthest right digit, it displayed a series of zeroes on both sides of a decimal point.
His focus shifted to the belly that supported his forearm like a shelf. Jesus, Singleton! What are you doing? Gotta do something about that already.
Ever since the divorce, he'd planned to join one of those twenty-four-hour gyms, but something else always popped up. He'd even thought about trying online dating. Looking down at his gut again, he rolled his eyes. But who would want to date his fat ass?
Vaughn had stayed fit for her, and look what that had gotten him.
Shaking his head, he shifted his focus back to the forearm display just as the final number rolled to zero.
Seated to his right, Mark extended a gloved thumb. "Okay, Sandusky," the astronaut said over the radio. "I'm showing hard vacuum here."
Vaughn's hand bounced off of his visor again. He furrowed his forehead in another vain attempt to get the sweatband to absorb the errant trickle. Blurred vision and the sensation of sweat burning an inconsolable eye rewarded his efforts.
"Damn it!" Vaughn said as he tried to blink away the moisture.
Mark laughed and shook his head. He activated their private suit-to-suit intercom. "Told you it was on wrong."
"How can you put a sweatband on wrong?" Vaughn said through another growl, still trying to blink the sweat from his eyes.
Mark pointed at Vaughn's helmet. "Like that." After a moment, the astronaut pursed his lips and then added, "You've always been a hard-headed son of a bitch, Vaughn, always had to do things your way."
Singleton hoisted an eyebrow. "Are you done, Colonel?" He waved a thick booklet in the airless air. "This checklist ain't gonna finish itself."
Mark gave him a hard look. "I'm serious, Vaughn." He paused and pointed at himself. "This could've just as easily been you."
