Impossible (Fuzed Trilogy Book 3)

by David E Stevens

  As Josh goes up the gantry elevator, he realizes he is about to depart Earth in a modern rocket, but from a 60 year old launch pad. As they reach the top, he sees the capsule silhouetted against a panoramic Florida coast sunrise. He manages a cool expression, only grinning like an idiot when no one is looking.

  Inside the capsule are seven seats all reclined and facing up. There’s a row of four on top and three offset on the bottom. Although the spacecraft operates automatically, there are manual controls centered between the two middle seats on the top row where the “pilot” and mission commander sit. Fortunately, it’s tradition to put those who’ve never been in space in the outside seats that have the best view through the portholes.

  Josh is seated to the pilot’s left. After everyone is strapped in, the technicians swing four large flight control monitors down in front of the pilot and mission commander. From his vantage, Josh sees the flight monitors while still being able to look out the porthole. Just before they’re ready to seal up the capsule, one of the medical technicians comes back over to Josh. With Josh’s helmet on, it’s difficult to talk, so she jacks directly into his comm system. Frowning, she says, “Commander Fuze, we have a problem.”

  He squeezes his eyes shut in frustration. He was so close!

  Meadows raises his eyebrows. “Half his DNA?” Before Miller can respond, Meadows continues, “I’m curious, Fred. What part of the physical did he fail that required you to give him a waiver and a genetic test?”

  Miller frowns. “He didn’t actually fail the physical.”

  Matching his frown, Meadows asks, “May I see his test results?”

  Miller reluctantly hands him his tablet.

  Putting on his reading glasses, Meadows carefully studies the report. Finally, looking up, he says, “Fred, I was a pilot. I’ve been through, and seen a lot of flight physicals. Twenty/five vision? Twenty-five-thousand hertz frequency response? His blood pressure, cholesterol, homocysteine levels….” He shakes his head. “This is the most impressive physical I’ve ever seen in my life.”

  “Exactly! The results are too good!”

  Meadows takes his glasses off. “Ok, let me get this straight. You want to pull Commander Fuze off the launch because he’s the healthiest, most physically capable person we’ve ever sent into space?”

  “Yes, I mean, it’s that and his genetic test results.”

  Meadows says slowly, “Fred, if it’s impossible to be missing half your DNA,” he tilts his head slightly, “doesn’t that suggest there’s an error in the test?”

  Miller shakes his head. “I’ve studied the test results in detail. He appears to have a normal human genome except almost all his junk DNA,” he corrects himself, “non-coding DNA is missing.”

  Meadows repeats, “Junk DNA.” He pauses. “Considering Fuze’s amazing physical abilities,” he smiles, “maybe you and I need to get rid of some of our junk DNA.”

  Miller, clearly not amused, takes a deep breath and puts his hand firmly on Meadows’ desk. “You don’t understand. Joe, I’m not sure this guy is even human and I’m exercising my right as NASA’s Chief Medical officer to revoke his medical waiver. He can’t launch without it.”

  Leaning back in his chair, Meadows nods slightly. “That’s certainly your prerogative and I’ll call the launch pad and scrub him from the flight, but there’s something you need to know.” He pauses for emphasis. “You and I, and everyone we know, probably wouldn’t be alive today if it weren’t for this man.” Leaning forward, he adds, “Let me quickly share with you how Commander Fuze got those gunshot wounds. Two years ago…”

  Josh knows he’s busted and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it. He would have to go back to his childhood to remember feeling this disappointed. He takes a deep breath and letting it out slowly, plays dumb and says softly, “What seems to be the problem.”

  “Sir, your heart rate and blood pressure are elevated. Not dangerously so, but you normally have an exceptionally low and stable heartbeat and blood pressure. I just wanted to check and make sure everything’s ok.”

  Josh sucks in a huge breath and smiles. “I’m sorry. I’m feeling like a three year old that’s just been given a pound of candy.”

  The technician smiles. “That’s not uncommon on your first flight.”

  “I promise, I’ll take some deep breaths and try to relax.”

  Still smiling, she winks at him and pats him on the leg.

  He just needs a few more minutes.

  Meadows, an accomplished teller of sea stories, finishes an hour and a half later with a dramatic, “Then they medevacked him in a Marine Osprey to an aircraft carrier off the coast of Antarctica. It was right in the middle of a massive cyclone with 50-knot winds and 40-foot waves. Imagine trying to land in those conditions and then trying to perform emergency surgery in a pitching operating room.” He shakes his head. “It’s a miracle he survived and then, after all that, he got zero credit for any of it.”

  Miller says, “Wow. I had no idea.”

  “So, do you still want to revoke his waiver?”

  Miller sighs and then says, “I’m sorry but I still think it’s vital that we get to the bottom of this. I’m just not comfortable having him on the space station until we know more about who … or what he is.” He shakes his head. “But I guess I’m open to at least discussing the possibility of extending his waiver.”

  Leaning back in his chair, Meadows looks at watch and with a slight smile, says, “That’s good, because his rocket just took off.”

  Five … four … three … two … one… Although he shouldn’t be, Josh is surprised by the noise and vibration. There is no movement initially as the launch system ensures all nine engines are operating before releasing the rocket.

  Then they’re on their way and he discovers riding a million pounds of thrust is shockingly violent. The G force pushing him down in his seat is less than he experienced in a fighter, but the shaking feels more like a fighter that’s been hit by a missile. Through it all, he looks out the porthole and watches the sky. He remembers chasing sunsets across the continent in his jet and seeing the amazing colors from 50,000 feet, but in seconds, they blow through that altitude. The sky changes from cloudy white and blue to total black in 15 seconds. As the rocket rolls, he’s rewarded with a breathtaking view of the ocean below.

  Fifty miles high, the first stage shuts down. The G force stops abruptly. He rises against his straps as he experiences zero gravity, only to be squashed again as the second stage ignites.

  After more vibration and high-Gs, the second and final stage shuts down. Going from four-Gs to zero gravity, feels like having a gorilla sitting on his chest and then suddenly throwing him over a cliff. His body says he’s in freefall. His eyes disagree as his idiot grin returns. He loved roller coasters as a kid, particularly when they plummeted toward the ground. He’s now on the ultimate roller coaster. The Dragon capsule is in a perpetual plummet, but it’s moving around the Earth so fast, it keeps overshooting and missing the ground. This strange phenomenon — called orbit — keeps them perpetually weightless.

  The rendezvous is the complete opposite of the launch. It is a quiet, serene operation performed in slow motion. Only the soft hum of electronics and fans, along with an occasional puff of the attitude jets breaks the silence.

  He studied dozens of diagrams and 3-D models of the ISLO, but as they approach, he gets his first real look. What he sees is a central hub with four thick cylinders sticking out like spokes of a wheel. Each spoke is made up of two fifteen-meter long, five-meter wide, cylindrical modules connected by a short tunnel. On the outside tip of each spoke is a metal truss connecting it to the tip of the next spoke. It makes the space station look like a square, skeletal wheel with the laser phased array sitting on top like a hat.

  “Top” and “bottom” are relative terms in space, but they make sense when used to describe the part of the station that points down toward the Earth or up toward space. Sticking out of the “botto
m” of the central hub, like an axle, are two more cylindrical modules with docking ports encircling the lower half. This is their destination.

  On top of the station, a grid of thin trusses looks like a cage. It supports the large octagonal laser array. Composed of 112 laser clusters, it forms the most powerful and accurate laser ever created, and tethered near the station are two of the world’s biggest space-based telescopes. When the station launches toward L2, it will tow the telescopes along with it.

  As they get closer, he sees a pod in the process of attaching a large rectangular panel to one of the outside trusses. They look like solar panels, but their job isn’t to collect energy; it’s to get rid of it. They’re thermal panels designed to radiate the heat, generated by the nuclear reactor, away from the station and into space.

  Dumping heat is one of the challenges, but after the station arrives at L2, it’ll be in Earth’s shadow making it easier to dissipate heat.

  Josh notices that, unlike the chaotic looking design of the International Space Station, the ISLO is relatively symmetric. The reason is sticking out of the bottom of the Docking Module. As they approach, Josh sees a large cylindrical rocket nozzle with a slight blue glow. To boost the massive station past the moon to L2 requires a powerful engine. Without a reasonably symmetric station, the thrust would cause the station to spin and tumble out of control. Even when the station arrives at L2, small but constant corrections will be needed to keep it in place. The answer is the most efficient propulsion system ever created. The ion engine is electric. The Tesla of the rocket world uses electricity generated by the nuclear reactor to drive xenon propellant.

  Docking is a slow and uneventful process. After a slight bump and a short delay, the airlock hatch opens. Two people wearing the station’s standard matching blue T-shirt, shorts and socks, float in and help them unstrap. One of them is Lieutenant Colonel Wendy Crow.

  With mocha skin and a short afro, she has the flawless complexion and high cheekbones of a model. Her normal resting expression, however, is one of perpetual disgust, making her appear mean or stuck up. Josh knows she’s neither. She’s simply a preoccupied engineer who forgets to tell her face when she’s happy.

  As soon as she sees Josh, she floats toward him and gives him a small smile.

  It’s the first time he’s ever seen her smile and he’s shocked at the transformation. He wonders if the zero-g, round-face syndrome has something to do with it. With no gravity to pull fluids from the head, everyone’s face puffs up. Whatever the reason, she’s surprisingly attractive.

  12

  RENDEZVOUS

  As Wendy helps him out of his seat, she says, “Welcome aboard.”

  “Thank you. It’s good to see you again.” It takes longer to extricate him from the pressure suit, but with her help, he’s soon floating in matching T-shirt and shorts.

  She gives him a visual once over. “You look good for a dead man.”

  He shrugs. “Took a while to get over being fired.”

  Her resting look of disgust returns. “Very funny, but I want to hear what really happened after the SEALs arrived.” She motions toward the hatch. “But first, let me give you the mandatory orientation and emergency equipment tour. Then I’ll introduce you to some of the crew.” She adds, “Newbies to the station all get assigned a nanny.” With an almost smile, she continues, “I’m yours.” She launches through the hatch and says, “Follow me.”

  He tries but collides with a wall.

  Laughing, she gives him a few pointers.

  He catches on and chases her through the first module.

  Over her shoulder, she says, “We’re in the Ion Propulsion and Docking Module.”

  As they go through the short tunnel that connects the modules, she says, “Each module is separated by a large hatch that will automatically close in four seconds in the event of fire or depressurization.” She points at a big red button near the hatch. “In an emergency, it can also be activated manually.” She then gestures toward a green box in the center of one of the walls. ”The emergency oxygen masks are always positioned on the wall mid-module.”

  He knows all this, but it’s good to see the real hardware. As they enter the next module, he sees nothing but small and large “cupboard” doors eating up all but a square passage down the center.

  She continues, “We’re moving up through the station’s Attitude Control Module.” As they pass a door with a red cross, she points at it and says, “Sickbay.”

  They go through another hatch that opens into the station’s central hub. Josh sees a lot of electronic equipment covering the walls. The electronics extend into what would normally be the ceiling as well. There are multiple, mini, mission-control looking consoles in a semicircle surrounding the core of the hub.

  She points toward a small porthole at the top of the hub. “There’s the laser array and to the side you can see the infrared tracking telescope.”

  Peering out and up, he sees the open grid of laser clusters and a large gold-mirrored telescope anchored to the side of the grid.

  She says, “The Antarctic lasers were impressive but this … this thing’s amazing. Aside from not having to worry about beam correction through the atmosphere, we can use a bunch of small, more efficient lasers rather than the giant chemical ones on Mt. Howe, but,” she shakes her head, “it creates new challenges. The slightest misalignment or vibration and we can’t phase and collimate the beam. Construction tolerances were scary and we have to isolate the array when firing it.”

  She then introduces him to several of the station’s crew working on control consoles. Even shaking hands in zero-g is weird. Newton’s “for every action there’s an equal and opposite reaction” suddenly becomes very relevant.

  Continuing the tour, she says, “As we move clockwise around the hub, there are four spokes radiating out each side.” She points at a hatch similar to the one they came up through, but this one has yellow and black stripes around the opening along with radiation symbols. “That takes you to the Nuclear Reactor Module. The module in between, houses the cooling system and capacitors that power the laser.”

  As he follows her around the periphery of the hub, he realizes he’s never seen her in anything but an Air Force uniform or arctic parka. From his pursuit perspective, he can’t help but notice her athletic build and nicely proportioned empennage.

  A quarter of the way around the hub, she stops and points at the next open hatch. “This is the Greenhouse and Air Recycling Module.”

  He peers through the hatch. Most modules have, at most, a two-meter wide corridor running through them, but this one is completely open except down the center. Jutting from one wall are two parallel rows of glass tanks that run the length of the module. An explosion of green foliage in a variety of shapes and sizes bursts from them in all directions. Under the tanks, a tangled maze of pipes and wires looks like a tornado struck an aquarium shop. Rows of bright white lights line the walls. It looks and smells like a little canned jungle.

  “On the other side of the Greenhouse is the EVA Module, where the pods are docked. Everyone calls it the Garage.”

  As they continue around the hub, she adds, “Along this spoke — on the side opposite side of the station from the nuclear reactor — is the dorm, cafeteria and gym.”

  Looking through the hatch, he sees some odd-looking workout equipment and a few small cafeteria tables sticking out of the walls.

  She points past the tables. “The outside module houses the crew micro-quarters, bathrooms and,” she gives him a wry smile, “the water recycling facility.”

  He smiles back. “How convenient.”

  They come three quarters of the way around the hub and she points at the last spoke. “This module houses the communication equipment and leads to the Repair and Fabrication Module, which also has the backup pod dock. That’s where I spend most of my time.” She shrugs. “I’m basically an MIT-educated mechanic.”

  Behind Wendy, he sees Dr. Ken Katori float in from
the Nuclear Reactor Module with another man behind him. Katori hasn’t changed a bit. He still looks like a bushy white-haired, horn-rimmed scientist from an old Godzilla movie. The other man Josh recognizes as the space station Commander, Colonel Steven Dale from the Norwegian Air Force. Blond and blue eyed with craggy features and a square jaw, he’s a big man with a serious face.

  Katori slaps Josh on the back, sending them both bouncing against a wall. He laughs. “I do miss gravity sometimes. Anyway, it’s great to see you again.” He introduces Josh to the Station Commander.

  Colonel Dale shakes his hand. With excellent English he says, “Welcome aboard. Ken told me about you. Sounds like we all owe you thanks for your work on the original Blaster.”

  “Thanks. It’s good to meet you Colonel.”

  “I have a conference call in a minute, so I’ll leave you in Dr. Katori and Colonel Crow’s capable hands.”

  After he leaves, Katori says quietly, “Although it’s awesome to have you here … still not exactly sure why you’re here.”

  “I’m from the government and I’m here to help.”

  Katori laughs. “Yeah, we’ve seen how much the government loves you.” He shakes his head. “No one deserves a trip up here more than you, but while you’re enjoying your sightseeing tour, I plan to put you to work.”

  “Not sure how useful I’ll be but happy to help any way I can.”

  Katori’s eyebrows go up. “Talked to the training team in Houston. Your task completion speed in the pod simulator broke the record.” He smiles. “Congratulations, you’re going to be a forklift driver.” He pauses. “We’re behind schedule with the thermal panel additions. After you get your space legs, and maybe throw up a few times, we’ll stick you in a pod and see how you do.”