Launch
Page 24
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Caleb Eastman answered, Claire asked, “How soon can Bec finish the starship tractor it’s building, so I can use it to rescue General Archer?”
Mr. Eastman said, “Computer?”
“Does the customer have a government priority for the current emergency?” Bec’s computer asked.
“Computer, this is Amira Saleh, President of the United States. This project has an immediate life or death government priority.”
“Forty-five days, ma’am.”
“Build it,” Claire said. “My husband’s still on that asteroid, and I’m going to get him.”
“It will be done and the forty-five days start now,” Mr. Eastman said.
“Good. Be sure the flight controls function exactly like the first starship.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bec’s computer answered.
“Elf, confirm to Bec that I have fifty-five billion dollars in convertible assets available in addition to the original contract price.”
Naomi’s eyes went wide with surprise. One of Amira’s eyebrows went up slightly.
“Yes, ma’am,” Elf responded. “Additional assets that can be sold for fifty-five billion dollars will be at the disposal of Doctor Archer after the markets reopen.”
“Four things, Mr. Eastman: One: I will give you an additional one billion dollars for each day you beat your forty-five-day estimate without compromising quality.”
Mr. Eastman sounded surprised when he answered, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Two: I’m going to need deep space, ship-to-ship transfer capability including robots with cutting torches to get my husband out of Michael. Don’t let this interfere with the build time for the new starship.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Three: I want modern medical facilities aboard with the capability to care for any medical problems that my husband may have. Don’t let this interfere with the build time for the new starship.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Four: If Bec Corporation meets or exceeds the contractual arrangements we are making now, and I bring my husband back alive on the new starship, I will give Bec Corporation a ten billion-dollar bonus.”
“Yes, ma’am. If there’s nothing else, please excuse me. You have given me a lot of work to do.”
“Goodbye Mr. Eastman, and thank you.”
Claire explained to Amira and Naomi, “Medical facilities, a medically trained robot, and several years of life support were onboard Michael. It’s reasonable to hope that he will still be alive in the forty-six or so days it will take me to get to him.”
After a pause, Claire said, “We’re joined at the heart. If he was really gone, I would feel it.”
After Claire calmed down and her breathing and blood pressure returned to normal, a doctor brought her swaddled baby and helped her begin breastfeeding.
While she relaxed with her nursing daughter in her arms, Claire said, “Thank you, Naomi, for being here for us, and thank you, Amira, for saving my baby.”
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Amira flew back to the White House. She kissed Omar and asked him to hold her. After a few minutes with Omar and some rest and meditation, she had her makeup and hair touched up, and then went on the air.
As President of the United States, she told people they were safe: that General David Archer had chosen to ride in the heart of a flaming meteor to ensure the survival of everyone but himself.
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Tributes for David poured in after Amira’s speech, and Congress unanimously awarded him a Medal for Extraordinary Valor.
Amira visited Claire every day. On the third visit, Amira said, “Many people have asked me when we should hold the medal award ceremony.”
Claire did not hesitate. “After I bring him back,” she said.
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A week after the baby was born, Lauren Dobson called Claire and reported: “The appeal was denied, and your license is still valid. The court said that Bernice Moore and Jason Kim were clearly motivated by personal prejudice. It ordered the Department of Parent Licensing to show cause why the Department should not be fined for allowing a frivolous appeal. The court also ordered employee reviews for Moore and Kim, including a review of all the licensing applications they have voted on.”
Claire was relieved that the last threat to her baby was gone, and she thanked Lauren.
When she had time to reflect, Claire thought about the court’s decision. The courts are just: another good reason to stay.
Chapter 49
The asteroid was cooling rapidly, and it blocked sunlight from reaching what was left of Michael.
David regained consciousness in zero g on a side passageway. He was still wearing his spacesuit and had an agonizing cluster headache that seemed to extend to every part of his body. He fought the pain to ask the nearby robot, “Why are we here?”
“You went into cardiac arrest repeatedly because of the heat, and the automatic defibrillator in your spacesuit kept shocking you back to life, sir. This robot brought you here because it is cooler. You should turn on the heat in your spacesuit now and go back into the main cabin, before your body temperature drops further.”
David felt more pain when he moved, and he was weak. But he turned on his spacesuit heat and forced himself through the passageway and airlock with the discreet help of the robot.
Pressure was normal inside the cabin and in part of the storage area.
When he reached the bedroom compartment, the robot helped him out of his spacesuit and into his sleeping bag. Then it asked him to drink a small bottle of something that tasted salty and sprayed something on the back of his throat, twice. David asked what it was, but he fell asleep during the explanation.
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He was still in pain when he woke up, but he felt much better. David found the robot in the shirtsleeve control compartment. The video screen displayed the ship’s status and navigation information with a red flag warning that the data were unreliable and there was no outside view.
“What’s our status?” David asked.
“As you can see sir, all outside video has been lost. Michael is blind. All communication antennas have failed. During the skip, the engines most exposed to heat and pressure were damaged and shut down. Many fuel tanks burst because of extreme heat. Most of the fuel and consumables were lost, but that loss carried away heat and helped save the ship from total destruction. This robot shut down the least exposed engines after the skip to save fuel. About three percent of the remaining fuel is leaking per Earth day. The status of outside doors and of the ship in relation to the asteroid is unknown. The navigation display is red-flagged because the astro-inertial navigation system has not received a recent calibration.”
David asked, “Do you have internal gyroscopes?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Can they be referenced to space?”
“Yes sir, with adequate star sightings.”
“Can you do star sightings without a sextant or charts?”
“Yes, sir. This robot is electronically linked to the ship’s control system and memory. It contains the necessary information.”
“Can you calibrate the ship’s navigation system?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay, robot. Give me time to drink a liquid meal and put on my spacesuit. Then try to open and close all outside doors except the shield door, get star sightings where you can, and calibrate the ship’s gyros. While you’re looking out, inspect the ship and report back.”
“Yes, sir.”
Before David put on his spacesuit, he took three aspirin.
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The red flag on the navigation display went off not long after the robot left. As David expected, Michael was rapidly leaving an already-distant Earth. A fuel calculation showed that if engine-firing time was kept to an absolute minimum, the ship might have enough to get back to Earth.
The robot returned and reported: “Michael is partially welded to the asteroid, sir, probably because of
melting during the skip. From what this robot could see, the most exposed half of the ship is severely damaged. All passageways have been destroyed except those to the least exposed lateral door and to the shield door. The visible external surface of the asteroid appears to be nickel-iron.”
“Belt yourself into your maneuvering console,” David commanded. “We’re going to try to get rid of this thing.”
“Would it be better to conserve the ship’s fuel and wait for rescue, sir?”
“No. There’s nothing left on Earth that can catch us. It’s unlikely that a ship could be built and reach us before we run out of fuel in 33 days. We need to break free before the surface of the asteroid becomes even more solid.”
Three engine pairs started on the side of the ship that had been least exposed. David put all six engines in maximum reverse thrust.
He said, “Robot, we’re going to flip tail-over-tea-kettle after we break free. We’ll have to go to full forward thrust to stop the spin. You stay belted in and alert.”
“Yes, sir.”
David waited, and waited, and waited, and then he went to sleep.
A sudden lurch and a high g force woke him. The starship was flipping end over end. Tunnel vision warned him that he was near a blackout. Before he could reach the controls, the engines went to full forward thrust opposing the spin.
Good robot.
After what seemed to be a long time, during which David stared at the monitor and worried about fuel consumption, the spinning stopped, and he shut down the engines.
David told the robot, “I want you to take another star fix from the shield door. I don’t want to waste fuel on course corrections we can avoid.”
“Yes, sir.”
The shield door was reported warped but operable by the robot. It re-calibrated the navigation system and belted itself back in its maneuvering control console. David aligned Michael on course to intercept Earth. Because all working engines were on one side, he had to use vectored thrust to keep the ship from flipping over as it accelerated.
When the ship was near the correct intercept course and speed, David shut down the engines and had the robot make another calibration check. After two short engine firings and two more calibrations, David was satisfied that Michael was on course to intercept Earth. He shut the engines down, took off his space suit, consumed a zero g meal, and climbed into his sleeping bag.
Chapter 50
Like most days in Los Angeles, March 30, 2554 was clear and bright. The omniglass wall near Claire, Naomi, and Mark, was in the sun screen mode when they heard a chime. The omniglass went black except for what appeared to be stars surrounding the electronically enhanced image of a burned and blackened object.
Amira asked, “Do you recognize this, Claire?”
Her eyes went wide and she tensed. “That’s Michael! Or what’s left of it. It looks terrible!” She wondered if David could be alive in the wreckage, and tears appeared in her eyes.
“Madam President, Elf is receiving a weak transmission from a robot on Michael. It’s asking for reentry and landing clearance.”
“Divert all other traffic as necessary and clear it, Elf. Ask if it can relay voice transmission to General Archer.”
“It said yes, ma’am.”
Amira said, “Go ahead, Claire.”
With her heart in her throat, Claire said, “David?”
“Hey, Cougar. How are you? How’s our daughter?”
Claire was overwhelmed with joy. When she recovered enough to speak, she said, “We’re fine. How did you know about her?”
“Elf uploaded video of her being born when I was herding the meteor.”
“I’m glad you got to see that.”
“Me, too. I’m running low on fuel, and I’ve only got six engines on one side. I’m going to have to dump this thing in the water off Point Conception. I’d appreciate it if you could get something out there to pick me up before I get too waterlogged.”
Amira said, “Get rescue out there now, Elf!”
“Did you copy that, Buni?”
“Yes, thank you. I’ve got to go now. Michael out. Robot, close the door and get back to maneuvering, quickly.”
Amira said, “I’ll send a taxi for you, Claire. I’ll meet you at Vandenberg.”
Naomi and Mark offered to stay with the baby, and Claire gratefully accepted.
Her elation grew and filled her heart as she hurriedly prepared herself to greet her husband.
▼
The rocks off Point Conception, south of Vandenberg, were headstones for a graveyard of wrecked ships that had failed to navigate around the Point. David planned to ditch Michael just south of the rocks. The oxygen and fuel on board would be absorbed back into the water from which they came. The ship’s structure would become another refuge for life in the sea.
Wearing his space suit, David climbed through the airlock from the cabin to the bottom of the upper passageway. Power was out to that part of the ship, but his helmet had built in lights.
He told the robot to shut down the engines. At zero g, it only took him seconds to leap up the long passageway to the shield door at the top of the ship. He connected his safety line, hung onto the handholds built into the steps, and told the robot to restart the engines.
David grabbed the manual door release lever and pulled. Nothing happened. He relaxed, took a deep breath, and used the full strength of his arms and legs, but the door did not budge.
He wondered if he should try the other working door. The exhaust blasts from the six working engines were dangerously close to it, but an open door of any kind would beat this one.
“Robot, did you say you opened the shield door?”
“Yes sir, several times. But it is warped, so it could be difficult to open.”
Yeah, right. Hard to open for a robot with its immense strength could be impossible for even the strongest human.
Just then, the deceleration stopped, David felt his body go to zero g, and the debate in his head stopped.
“Sir, the ship is out of fuel,” the robot said.
There was no time to get to the other door before Michael crashed. It was this door or nothing.
David did the one thing he had instinctively avoided: he straddled the release handle and pulled as hard as he could. If the door opened, the handle could hit him between his legs—hard. But it was that or crash. Open or die, he thought and concentrated on pulling harder.
The door flew open into the slipstream and flapped violently. David’s hands slipped off the handle, and its end grazed his suit as he fell away. When he reached the end of his safety line, he was slammed into a side of the passageway. He bounced off, caught a handhold, and climbed back up. Then he unhooked his safety line and carefully climbed past the dangerously flapping door. Wake turbulence pulled him clear and tumbled him out of control.
When he reached clear air, he extended his arms and legs to stabilize his descent. He could see Point Conception far below and three sea-rescue taxis streaking in his direction.
“This is David Archer,” he said. “Michael has run out of fuel. I’m in free fall at about fifty thousand feet. Any chance I can get a ride in one of the taxis near Point Conception?”
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Cameras onboard the rescue taxis found a tiny speck high above them and zoomed in. The image of David was relayed to the media and shown around the world. On the omniglass window beside her taxi seat, Claire was shocked to see Michael and David falling.
▼
With the taxis in a maximum performance climb to intercept David, Elf said, “Taxis are on the way, General Archer.”
“If you’ll position one in front of me with a door open, I’ll try to fly aboard.”
“Yes, sir.”
David fell several miles while a taxi was getting into position. He flew directly at the open door at a high speed to break through the expected airflow. But it was like trying to throw a tennis ball through a hurricane. He was deflected and tumbled out of control.
“A taxi in sideslip with both doors open could try to pick you up, sir. The airflow through the cabin could pull you in.”
“Let’s try it.”
It almost worked. He was sucked head first in one side door and ejected out the other side—too fast for the two robots on board to grab him or for him to grab anything. Again he tumbled.
He recovered to another stabilized descent and looked down. The ocean seemed close enough to touch, and he was falling fast. Time for experiments was running out.
David asked, “Elf, is the bird deflection screen strong enough to support my weight?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay. If I can’t ride in a taxi, I’ll ride on one. I’ll hold my position steady while you run a taxi under me.”
“Yes, sir. A taxi is on the way.”
After what seemed to be eternity, Wham! The taxi hit so hard that it knocked the breath out of him. The deflection screen buckled but sprang back into shape. David’s legs straddled the middle vertical stabilizer. He spread his arms and hands over the screen and tried to hold on as he struggled to breathe.
Full emergency power was directed to the lift chamber as equipment and seats were thrown out of the taxi to lighten it. Then two robots jumped out.
Elf said, “The taxi will crash, sir. Brace yourself.”
The flexible deflector screen cushioned the impact of the crash on David’s upper body, but again, his breath was knocked out of him.
The wreckage of the taxi sank nose first. The horizontal stabilizer caught David behind his knees and pulled him underwater: there was not enough room between the stabilizer and the engines to swing his legs and feet free. He fought to get his breath back and get away, but water pinned him like a blast from a fire hose as the taxi sank. It dove through a large group of red and white fish too quickly for David to recognize them. Then it plunged into a kelp forest. He was bombarded by a massive assault of kelp and crossed his arms in front of his helmet to protect it.
When the taxi’s dive slowed, David broke free. Though he felt like his head was up and his feet were down, he was in total darkness. As an experienced instrument pilot, he knew better than to trust his sense of balance without reference to the natural horizon or aircraft instruments: stories of pilots killed by spatial disorientation and the “dead man’s spiral” were legion.