by Mark Kelly
“Yes, depending on how much time he spends shopping for chocolate in Switzerland,” Tommy said.
“What else do they eat in Switzerland, anyway?” Barry asked. “I like chocolate—but I can’t live on it.”
“I hear the goat cheese is good,” said Tommy. “Cheese and chocolate—you should be okay with that.”
“It’s going to be awfully cold in Moscow,” Lisa said.
“How do you know?” Egg asked.
Lisa shrugged. “I read this book about the Russian space program. Have you got a coat, Barry?”
Barry shrugged. “A Windbreaker.”
Scott reached for the coat hooks by the door. “You’d better take this.” He grabbed one of Grandpa’s heavy fleece-lined jackets. “Grandpa won’t mind, provided you’re back before next winter.”
Barry was zipping up the jacket when everyone heard a familiar sound—tires on gravel.
Egg pulled the curtain aside. “Shoot! Mr. McAvoy’s back early!”
Scott pushed open the front door. Mark put his hands on Barry’s shoulders and shoved. “Hurry up and get going! Wave good-bye; don’t stop to talk! We’ll think of some way to explain. Now, move!”
Chapter 19
* * *
Coming up the walk, Grandpa looked over his shoulder at the Chevy Caprice retreating toward the highway in a cloud of dust. “Jenny’s mom will be here soon. She stopped to pick up subs—and how come Barry’s taking off in such a hurry wearing my winter coat?”
“He’ll bring it back,” Mark told his grandfather. “And, uh . . . they said to say good-bye.”
“And thanks,” said Lisa.
“Everything’s totally fine,” Scott added.
* * *
The subs were a special treat from the best deli in town, but the kids wolfed them down so fast they hardly tasted them. The first one done eating, Mark slurped the last of the Coke-flavored ice, crumpled his napkin, and jumped to his feet.
“That was delicious,” he said to Mrs. O’Malley. “Thank you. Uh . . .” He looked at his friends. “Do you guys want to take a walk or something?”
If Grandpa and Mrs. O’Malley thought this was an odd choice of activity, they didn’t say anything, and what’s more, they offered to clean up after lunch. Five minutes later, Egg, Mark, Scott, Howard, and Lisa were walking briskly down the path toward the Greenwood Lake launchpad.
“It feels weird not to have Barry here,” Scott said.
“It is more than just weird,” Howard said. “I can’t propagate the trajectories, program the guidance and navigation systems, and figure out the fuel requirements by myself. With Barry gone, I am going to need help.”
“Why didn’t you say that before?” Mark asked him.
“It was so obvious I thought you knew. We need somebody else with Barry’s skills,” Howard said.
“I’m good at math and science,” said Egg.
“Me too,” said Lisa.
“I know that, but you have your own jobs,” Howard said.
“Also, I’m still planning on being an astronaut this time,” said Egg.
“We all are,” said Howard.
“Speaking of being an astronaut—” Mark began.
Scott held up his hand. “We are not having this discussion now.”
“We probably need to have it before we actually launch,” Egg said.
“Yes, but not now,” Scott said, “because now we are solving the problem of Howard needing help. And unless I’m missing something, we have only one alternative.”
Everybody knew what the alternative was, and nobody wanted to say it in front of Egg. For a few moments, the only sounds were footsteps on the hard dirt path and the breeze rustling the needles in the evergreens. Then Scott said, “He saved my life,” and Howard said, “He’s really smart,” and Lisa said, “He’s not that bad.”
Egg closed her eyes and counted to ten. Her expression was pained. “All right. All right.” She surrendered. “I will call Steve Peluso.”
Egg was as good as her word. When they reached the Mission Control blockhouse, she went inside to call while everyone else assessed the progress made since their last visit. New black asphalt had been smoothed into place between the vehicle assembly building and the rocket. The elevator in the support tower was operational. Back inside, the wiring on the consoles was complete.
“What did he say?” Scott asked Egg after she hung up.
“He said he can help us, but not till Monday,” Egg said.
“I hope he learns fast,” said Scott.
“Okay.” Mark took a breath and looked at the others. “We have to stay focused. What do we need for launch?”
“Two astronauts,” Egg said.
“One rocket,” Scott said.
“Computers. Radios. Mission Control,” Howard said.
“Snacks for the astronauts,” Mark said. “Whoever is going will be gone longer than Scott was. How long do you think, Howard?”
“We won’t know the Salyut’s precise location and overflight time until we hear from Barry. So then we’ll have a very accurate launch time, I hope. And then there is how long this entire thing is going to take in space. I think we are looking at less than twenty-four hours, but if things don’t go well it could be several days.”
“This time we put the food in tubes the way NASA does,” said Scott, “so it doesn’t float all over the place and gum up the equipment.”
“Where do you get food in tubes?” Mark asked.
“I have an idea for how to do it,” said Lisa. “Just don’t expect McDonald’s, okay?”
“What about a first-aid kit? Like we have in Red Cross class?” Scott asked.
Egg laughed. “Now I’m picturing teeny tiny bandages for guinea pigs and mice, and teeny tiny oxygen masks too.”
Lisa said, “Skylab 3 carried spiders on board, remember? They wanted to see if the spiders would spin webs in space, and they did.”
“We are not rescuing any Russian spiders,” said Mark, “or snakes, either.”
“You guys”—Lisa frowned—“I think there’s something we’re forgetting. How do you picture our astronaut, whoever it is, going about this rescue, anyway? It’s not like we can dock the Apollo spacecraft to the Salyut. Our hardware doesn’t match up with theirs.”
“Of course not,” said Mark. “So what we have to do is station our Apollo capsule as close as possible to the Salyut without colliding. Then one of us performs an EVA. EVA stands for ‘extravehicular activity,’ also known as a space walk.”
“We know what it stands for, Mark,” said Scott.
“Just being sure,” Mark said. “Anyway, then I . . . that is, the astronaut, floats on over and knocks on the hatch. The Salyut is in a stable orbit right around 220 miles above Earth. And since both spacecraft are in freefall, orbiting around Earth, we float.”
Scott said, “We know that, too.”
Mark kept talking. “By then, we hope Barry and his new Russian pals will have warned Major Ilyushin to expect company. He depressurizes the Salyut and opens the hatch. Our guy enters via the airlock, assesses the situation, and—probably—floats on back with Major Ilyushin.” Mark shrugged. “Easy-peasy.”
“Except for one thing,” said Lisa. “Our astronaut, whoever it is, will be wearing a space suit. Right?”
Mark and Scott looked at each other, then they looked at Lisa. What was with her, anyway? She was smart, plus she could do practical stuff like welding. Without Lisa, the Crazy 8 spacecraft never would have been built. So how come all of a sudden she was talking like some kind of airhead girl?
Of course an astronaut on a space walk would have to wear a space suit! Cosmonauts have to wear them too.
There was no atmosphere to breathe in outer space, no pressure to keep the moisture in the human body or the nitrogen in the blood from vaporizing and expanding. Without the protection of a space suit, the cells in your body would be exposed to the vacuum of space, the sun’s radiation would fry you, your blood would boil,
your eyes would pop out of your head, and then you’d freeze in the darkness because there was no atmosphere to conduct heat and keep you warm.
Neither Scott nor Mark wanted to be sarcastic and hurt Lisa’s feelings. It was Scott who spoke, gently and patiently. “Yes, Lisa. On a space walk, you have to wear a space suit.”
“Okay,” said Lisa, “and where do we get a space suit by launch time? The kinds of fancy materials we need are not available at any old fabric store. What Scott wore on Crazy 8 was only a flight suit. It didn’t have nearly the protection you’d need in outer space, or its own oxygen supply either. Also, what about helmets?”
Scott opened his mouth to answer before realizing he had no answer. Mark’s dream of floating in star-studded space evaporated.
Howard scratched his head. “That’s a problem.”
But Egg was unfazed. “Come on.” She pointed toward the Titan rocket. “Let’s take an elevator ride. NASA has helpfully provided us with a whole lot of fancy technology. It could be they left some space suits, too. And if so, I think I know where they are.”
Chapter 20
* * *
There was nothing fancy about the elevator car, a plain metal box at the core of the launch support tower, itself more of a tall skinny skeleton than a building.
“Going up?” Mark asked, his finger poised to press a button.
“Yes, please,” said Egg. “Tenth floor and step on it.”
On the clattering ride, the kids watched the shiny skin of the rocket slide by. At the top, the doors opened to a gangway. Trying not to look through the open metal grid to the ground below, they crossed it and passed through a door to a small white room where astronauts, helped by technicians, made final preparations before climbing into the spacecraft.
Egg looked the white room over and announced it reminded her of their mudroom at home, only no washer-dryer and no wallpaper; in fact no decoration of any kind. A ventilation duct snaked from ceiling to floor; electrical cables lined the walls. Opposite the elevator was the steel and aluminum hull of the Apollo command and service module (CSM) itself.
To the left was a gray control panel packed with buttons, levers, and dials. Its top portion was a wall clock that showed the time as seven twenty-seven. The time in New Jersey was two twenty-seven in the afternoon, but scientists all over the world synchronize their clocks with the time at the Royal Observatory in Greenwich, England. It’s known as Greenwich Mean Time, and in the spring it’s five hours ahead of Eastern Standard Time in the United States.
Lining the right-hand wall were metal storage lockers, gray like everything else. While Egg and Howard opened them one by one and rummaged inside, Scott and Mark tried to rotate the handle on the heavy mechanism that opened the hatch to the crew compartment of the CSM.
“Can we get some help here?” Mark asked.
“No time for that now,” Egg said. “Come and help us look for space suits.”
For a few minutes, it was quiet but for the metallic squeak and crack of locker doors opening and closing. Then Howard straightened up and asked, “Is this what we are looking for?” On Howard’s face was his usual slightly puzzled expression. In his arms was a white space helmet with the blue NASA emblem printed on the side.
“Woo-hoo!” Egg said. “I thought so.”
Mark grinned.
Scott said, “Is there another one? And what about suits?”
Within a few minutes, the kids had found two more helmets and three space suits as well—enough to outfit a three-man Apollo crew. The suits were big and bulky, and it seemed to take most of Scott’s strength to hold one up by its shoulders.
“I didn’t know it’d be so heavy!” he said.
Mark tugged it away from his brother. “Oh it can’t be that,” he started to say, but when he felt its full weight, his knees bent. “Heavy,” he grunted.
“It won’t weigh a thing in microgravity,” said Egg.
“What’s it made of, anyway?” Scott asked. He expected Mark would answer, but for once, his brother’s face was blank.
It was Lisa who told them about the suits. They were made of many layers, rubber on the inside to contain the pressurized oxygen that kept the astronaut alive, netting to help the rubber keep its shape, sheets of foil-like Mylar for extreme temperature and radiation protection, a tough layer of felt to protect against pea-size meteorites, and an outer covering of white nylon.
“Pea-size meteorites?” Mark said. “What about baseball-size ones?”
“Those you have to duck,” Lisa said. “No suit could protect you from them. But don’t worry. They’re not that common. Oh—and one more thing. The pants used for the EVA have extra insulation made out of fiberglass,” Lisa said. “The idea is so you don’t get burned by the nitrogen jets on the AMU.”
“What’s an AMU?” Mark asked.
“Write this down, everybody,” Scott said. “Two things in a row my brother doesn’t know.”
“I will know as soon as you let Lisa answer the question,” Mark said.
“Astronaut maneuvering unit,” Lisa said. “It’s like a jetpack, only with twelve tiny rockets pointing in all directions to move you around without the need for an umbilical—a cord that connects you to the ship. They’re still pretty experimental, but useful for rescue. That’s one of the reasons they were designed.”
Mark, Scott, and Egg all spoke at the same time: “Cool!”
Lisa, the only one of them uninterested in being an astronaut, shrugged. “If you like that kind of thing.”
“There’s one more thing I don’t understand,” Scott said. “Where did these suits come from? I thought NASA custom-made them for each astronaut.”
“Ew, you mean these must be used?” Mark said.
“From the NASA thrift store,” said Egg.
“I don’t think so,” said Lisa. “Every astronaut got three, one for flight, one for training, and one as a backup. I don’t know who these were made for, but I bet they’re backups.”
As best they could in the small space, the boys and girls separated to try the suits on for size. Howard and Egg went first. They found that the space suits felt rubbery, like the skin of an inner tube, and even after the fasteners were tightened and zippers pulled up, they sagged like loose skin on an elephant.
“Is this how it’s supposed to be?” Howard asked.
“It’s not pumped up yet—pressurized, I mean,” Lisa explained. “In space, you’re going to look like a snowman.”
Chapter 21
* * *
Space suits were never designed to be worn on planet Earth. They were huge, hot and in every way uncomfortable. The fish bowl helmets, heavy and hard, were even worse.
“My nose itches!” Scott complained when at last it was his turn and the helmet had been securely locked to its neck ring. “How am I supposed to scratch my nose?”
“Is this thing air-conditioned?” Mark wanted to know.
Egg looked at Lisa. “I think they’re talking.”
It was hard to tell. The helmets had big visors that protruded over the faceplates, putting them in shadow, and the faceplates themselves were like dark glasses, tinted to provide sun protection.
“I guess we still have to figure out the fine points of how you work these things,” Lisa said. “There’s a microphone and earphones too, but I don’t know which switch turns that all on. Anyway, we don’t have the radios hooked up.” She knocked on the side of Scott’s helmet. “Hello-o-o in there! How does it fit?”
Scott shrugged and shook his head. He could see Lisa was talking, but he had no idea what she was saying. Meanwhile, Howard had been studying the outside of Mark’s suit inch by inch. The hoses for the oxygen came together in a pack on the chest. “How do we turn it on?” he asked. “It’s suffocating in there. They’re going to need to breathe soon.”
These words were hardly out of his mouth when both Scott and Mark lifted off their helmets and took big gulps of air.
“So how was it?” Lisa asked.<
br />
“Great,” Scott said.
“Fits perfect,” Mark said.
After their turns, Howard and Egg had said more or less the same things, more or less unconvincingly.
Lisa laughed. “You guys remind me of Cinderella’s stepsisters with the glass slipper. They wanted to marry the prince. You want to go up in space.”
“That suit was pretty big on you, Egg,” Mark said.
“I can tuck the pant legs into the boots,” Egg said.
Howard was the tallest of the five of them. “I won’t even have to do that,” he pointed out.
“If we’re going by who the suits fit best, then Scott and I are obviously Cinderella,” said Mark.
Scott looked at his brother. “You know something? ‘Cinderella’ is one name I never expected you to call me.”
“Oh, you know what I mean,” said Mark. “We’re the closest to being the right size for the suits. We’re not as tall as Howard but not as skinny, either. And, Egg, sorry, but you’re too small.”
Lisa shook her head impatiently. “If you’re looking for the best way to decide who flies, the suits aren’t it. They’re going to have to be adjusted for whoever flies. I think we can do it with straps and Velcro and maybe some duct tape.”
“Look, the time has come,” Mark said. “We have to decide who’s going. We can’t put it off anymore.”
For a few moments, it was quiet as everyone seemed to look at everyone else—sizing up the competition. They were all stubborn and determined. They had all worked hard. None of them wanted to back down . . . but finally Egg did. She sighed. She slouched. She straightened up. She turned to Howard and sighed again. “We have to let them go—Scott and Mark, I mean.”
Howard’s accustomed expression, puzzlement, turned to surprise, then irritation. “No, we don’t!” he insisted. “It’s not fair. Scott has already been in space!”
Egg nodded sadly. “Believe me, I know. And I’m sorrier than you, if that’s possible. But when Tommy took us to the amusement park last summer to do the testing for Crazy 8, it was Scott and Mark who did the best. Remember how you felt when you were riding the roller coaster? And don’t forget, Scott has some experience at this. None of the rest of us do. And on this mission we have to get it right or that poor cosmonaut dies. This is really serious”
