by A J Britnell
“Oh, cut it out Claus,” Haruka snapped with a grin.
“Only trying to lighten the mood,” he replied, “you know, give a little customer service. He somersaulted over to a hatch that lead to the compartment beneath and the waiting canister and added, “I’d better go and greet our guests.”
After twisting the locking wheel anti-clockwise, Claus opened the door, which hissed loudly as water vapour escaped. He poked his head inside. “Welcome aboard,” he said cheerily.
The couple emerged, smiling with relief. Claus indicated to a curved bench that ran around the circumference of the Orb and they both took their seats while the canister returned for its next pick up.
The Orb could carry six passengers, so after two more successful trips, the Orb made its way back to the Caspian.
Captain Stefan Anderson welcomed the passengers in the cargo bay. Marcus hung on the outer hatch and extended a hand to pull each one free. The six of them, the small boy included, glided along a narrow corridor behind the Captain until they reached the mess room, all of them eager for nourishment.
At the far end of the room EMO stood silent in the shadows, plugged to its power supply recovering from its previous incident. The child instantly recognised it and was delighted to see the robot again after their brief encounter at the shuttle. It seemed to be asleep he thought. He moved closer and EMO’s sensors picked up the movement, which prompted the unit to come alive with a whirring sound. An iris opened behind its transparent casing, an optical lens that looked like a single eye. EMO pushed itself from the wall, popping it free from the electrical socket. Magnetic wheels allowed it to glide across the ship’s floor and the boy had a chance to look at the robot more clearly. He thought it looked a little like a posturing gorilla with its square shoulders and large front arms that went down to the ground.
“Hello,” the boy said timidly, tapping it on the head. The robot turned towards the sound and replied, “Hello, I am EMO.”
The boy jumped back in surprise, “Oh hello, I’m Dan. EMO’s a funny name.”
EMO seemed to ponder this statement a moment before responding. “It is my operating function and number – Extravehicular Maintenance, zero – one; the crew just say – EMO.” It spoke in a strange, calming voice, which amused the child. As if sensing the awkwardness, EMO added, “Welcome aboard the Caspian!”
Dan smiled and lent closer. “So, what is there to do around here?”
The robot assessed the information in its memory boards and listed in alphabetical order, “Exercise wheel, computer games, volleyball, weight-training.” Dan stared blankly back while he tried to remember all the things on the list and the silence prompted EMO to add one more activity that seemed popular with the crew. “They also look out of the window a lot.”
Dan thought about this statement and told the robot that that didn’t sound any fun at all and decided to latch on to the one thing he did hear; computer games.
Glad to be of service, EMO rolled across to a long grey table in the centre of the room and tapped a square panel in the worktop with a spindly arm that appeared from its body. A computer terminal rose; EMO started listing again,” We have a comprehensive selection: classic arcade, puzzles, strategy, three dimensional and war games.” Its English was perfect but slightly clipped and when it continued it seemed to have a touch of pride in its voice, “I am also programmed to play many card games- Gin Rummy perhaps?” A screen popped out or its chest to reveal a deck of cards fanning across like in a casino.
The sight made Dan laugh aloud and he sung out, “I don’t know how to play!”
“I will teach you,” EMO responded.
Within the hour, all fifteen passengers were safely on board the Caspian and enjoying the limited facilities it had to offer. Eileen had insisted on checking them all over before their transfer, so as soon as they had all done a few circuits of her ‘hamster wheel’ the Caspian maneuvered to the space stations docking hatch; their long-intended destination, even if it was functioning at a basic level.
Stefan and his crew now had to turn their attention to the repair of the gravity generator, which had been out of commission since the accident. During the shuttle rescue, John and Marcus had assembled three quarters of the replacement strut, which was now so long it poked out of the Caspian's loading bay as they worked on the final section within the ship.
Haruka and Stefan viewed images of the debris surrounding the shuttle, analysing a route through to the broken strut. The crewmates were discussing the job when Healey arrived at the airlock with two custom made spacesuits.
“Now these are prototypes but they’ve been properly tested,” Healey began as he unzipped a cylindrical holdall. “My team’s been working on a new application for Lacecell – a fabric.” He first removed a grey suit in a soft cotton-like material. “This is the undergarment; it’s filled with a temperature controlling liquid and this one....” Healey produced a slightly thicker jumpsuit in orange and white, “this is the clever bit.”
Stefan took hold of the suit and closely inspected the strange ribbing that crisscrossed the material, to create a three-dimensional mesh, that covered every inch of the suit.
“It’s an intelligent spacesuit!” Healey stated with pride. He began explaining the science behind the invention; the ribs that contoured the wearers’ body, inflated to the correct pressure to give constant support to each muscle. It meant that working in space could be as easy as working on Earth.
A redevelopment of spacesuits was long overdue. The cumbersome Extravehicular Mobility Units of the past compromised missions due to the extreme effort needed to bend the joints making the simplest of jobs, exhausting.
Stefan was impressed. He looked behind Healey, at a hard, plastic case. Healey followed his gaze and reached back to pull the case near. Unclipping the lid, he lifted out a silver helmet, much smaller than a conventional one and held it out to his friend.
Stefan turned it over in his hands and placed it over his head, “Incredible!” He swiveled his head from side to side and noticed that he had greater visibility; the visor went around 200 degrees to allow for peripheral vision.
Healey tapped him on the helmet, “It’s fixed to your suit so you turn your head naturally.”
“What about life support systems?” Haruka asked as she helped Stefan out of the helmet to have a go herself.
Healey reached back inside the case for a white pouch, the size of a small briefcase. “It’s all in here.”
“Wow!” Haruka exclaimed, “It’s tiny!”
The life support system, though small was more efficient than its predecessors, everything miniaturised.
“Haruka, this is yours,” Healey added, removing another vacuum-packed suit.
“They are made to measure.”
“How on Earth did you get my measurements?”
Healey shock his head and smiled, “All that medical data Eileen collects- it’s public domain, you know, for science research back home.”
Haruka tilted her head to one side, “Is nothing private anymore?”
The three of them talked on about the science and benefits until Healey excused himself to allow them to get into their suits.
It took about half an hour for them both to get suited up with the help of Eileen and Claus. They ran system checks and dry runs in the loading bay before climbing into the Bug with box loads of equipment including laser cutters. Claus positioned the Bug a short distance from the crumpled mess of shuttle and space station and Haruka and Stefan left the safety of the airlock and took their first space walk in the prototype suits. They kept in constant radio contact, both marveling over the easy movement the new suits provided. Overwhelmed by the sheer joy of freedom of movement the friends decided to indulge themselves in a few somersaults and comedy moves, their laughter infectious.
“Come on you guys; I want to get back in time for dinner you know!” Claus teased as he viewed the scene from the Bug.
“Okay, back to business,” Stefa
n interrupted.
“But I’m having so much fun!” Haruka squealed as she whizzed past Stefan with a flick of her boosters.
A fully functional EMO glided between them, like a gooseberry, eager to assist and so the two astronauts reluctantly set about the task and all three worked with laser cutters to remove sections of metal, which were then towed by EMO back to the Bug. The smaller pieces where posted through a chute into its cargo space while larger ones where attached to the rear of the craft by strong magnets.
The work was slow and laborious. Twisted ducting coiled itself around the strut and ship and needed careful removal to protect the internal electronics. EMO worked diligently, soldering wires and unraveling cables. Once completed, EMO darted back and forth, suctioning up the debris of insulation material and bolts that floated around them.
Stefan gave a signal to Claus when a large section of strut was free and the pilot moved the Bug close enough to grab hold of the structure with one of its claws. It was a tricky maneuver but Claus made it look simple as he twisted the arm; opening and closing the claws with delicate precision. Once captured, the arms returned to their position pulling the metal to its body like talons.
“I'm going back to unload,” Claus said, “Are you two gonna be okay?”
Stefan reassured his friend and got back to work with Haruka, realising the job was going to take a lot longer than they anticipated.
By the end of the day the broken strut had been cut into manageable pieces and returned to the Caspian and the shuttle was now free from the structure. EMO was instructed to evaluate the shuttle’s condition and it jetted towards Stefan and Haruka, who were peering through the cockpit window.
EMO plugged itself into a port on the outside of the ship that connected to the ship’s computer, Stefan waited patiently.
Within seconds, EMO gave its report, “As expected the starboard engine is not operational. The hydraulics is severed and the electronics have burned.”
“Oh great,” Stefan mumbled,” We’ll have to tow it back.”
It was disappointing. The shuttle was an expensive machine and every component had considerable value. Ideally, they would try to fix the shuttle in orbit but if the damage appeared more extensive, they would have no choice but to dismantle and returned to Earth in pieces. Stefan started to feel a little hot inside his helmet and adjusted his coolant temperature. “What are we supposed to do?” he asked Haruka, “are we being paid to get the shuttle operational or can we just leave it floating up here for them to sort out?”
“I don’t know – but there is another option,” Haruka said, “we could take it to the moon.”
Haruka was right, the moon had been colonised for ten years now primarily for mining and more recently, tourism. On the far side of the Moon, at the South Pole, an industrial area recently opened a Spaceport.
“Okay EMO, let’s get the tow ropes,” Stefan conceded.
EMO seemed reluctant to leave the ship and was still communicating with the shuttle’s computer.
“What are you doing EMO?”
EMO turned its head and replied, “The Shuttle-zero-two-five-GL is very interesting. It has been in service for twenty years. It has completed four-hundred and twenty-three missions.”
“Don’t worry EMO, we’ll look after her,” Haruka said with compassion that surprised herself. It had always amused her the way modern robots communicated with less sentient machines but this scene was quite touching; it was as if EMO had feelings for the stricken ship.
“Why do you call the shuttle ‘her’?” asked EMO.
“Because all ships are female,” Haruka replied with little thought.
“Then why am I ‘it’?”
The comment surprised Haruka and she jetted nearer the robot, looked it in the eye and asked, “What did you want to be called, EMO?”
“I think I am a ‘him’.”
The whole crew worked tirelessly around the clock in six-hour shifts and thirty -six hours later the replacement arm had been successfully soldered into place and the electronic conduit thread through to the outer wheel. Restarting the orbiter was a logistical nightmare. Everything within the gravity wheels needed securing down, all passengers were redistributed around the upper wheel and the central spoke as nobody wanted to be thrown around the wheel as it built up speed. Tentatively, the Commander activated the generator. The station's movement was inconceivable to begin with, and then gradually the inertia built until the force reached two revolutions per minute.
Chapter Seven
Europa's crew sprang into action to reinstate the living quarters, dining halls and kitchens. Everyone aboard had to endure bland pre-packed space rations for far too long and so it was decided, a celebratory dinner was in order in honour of the Caspian.
Nervous anticipation rippled through the Caspian crew as they waited to exit the airlock. In single file, they passed through the corridor that led to the central hub. As their feet passed over the lip they felt the familiar draw of gravity and the bodies followed the pull until their feet touched the floor of the main habitation wheel.
They steadied themselves for a moment in the hallway, their limbs heavy and weak.
John stumbled, “Jesus, think I’ve put on a few more pounds.”
“I could have told you that,” Eileen said unsympathetically but she had to grab hold of his arm for support herself as her own weight, though slight, overwhelmed her. Once composed, the special guests tentatively stepped towards the open doors, each pace painful but glorious.
The dining hall returned to the opulent standard its rich residents expected. Tables draped in lilac cloth stretched back through the narrow room. At the entrance, Officers from the station greeted their guests, all wearing immaculate dress uniforms. The Caspian’s crew felt underdressed; only Healey appeared suitably adorned. He fronted the group, proudly sporting a sky blue, flannel jacket, his wavy hair styled to perfection. Haruka wished she had just worn her new flight suit instead of her plain civilian clothes. All her clothes were practical; there was little use for formal dress in space and she stared down at her mismatched outfit in embarrassment.
An elegantly dressed woman in her fifties glided over and shook Haruka’s hand. “So, wonderful to meet you, we are very grateful for your assistance my dear. Please have a drink.”
She took the glass and mouthed her thanks as other guests approached the group in turn.
They ventured no further than the entrance, finding themselves surrounded by champagne drinking well-wishers trying to initiate insightful conversation from the new arrivals. Thankfully Captain Olivetti interrupted the awkward interaction by directing the gathering towards a huge screen that dominated the far wall. A news broadcast began featuring a familiar tall redhead, sitting on a curved sofa, her long legs crossed elegantly to the side.
“Welcome back to News 24. I am Sam Weismann. We now return to our ongoing report on ‘Off Earth News’ and the success of the repairs and unexpected rescues at the Space Station Europe.” The woman moved over to a wall showing a photo of James Healey the Third, wearing an enormous toothy grin. “Success has been attributed to the entrepreneur that has transformed rescue operations on Earth- it seems the sky is not the limit for this extraordinary man.” The broadcaster laughed at her own joke while the crew of the Caspian winced and glanced at their apparent benefactor. Healey did not notice and continued watching with obvious delight.
Composing herself, Sam continued. “Healey’s new company, EVAC, Rapid Response Team, only had the contract to repair the gravity generator but in an interesting turnabout, had to come to the aid of Healey’s rival company - Schaefer Space Logistics, who were supposed to rescue the passengers aboard a stranded shuttle. After near disaster- when an eminent professor nearly lost his life- the EVAC team kindly offered to assist with the help of their cutting-edge technology that Healey’s companies have always been known for.”
The screen’s image changed to show a collage of faces. “Oh, my God, that’s
me!” Haruka blushed, bringing her hand to her face in a feeble attempt to shield herself from critical gaze.
Huge images of the crew crossed the screen before narrowing in on a close-up of a young Haruka, sitting on a swing. The broadcaster went on to describe each crew member in surprising detail, like they were film stars coming strutting down a red carpet.
“Captain Stefan Andersen-a former pilot for the Royal Norwegian Air Force is an unusual choice to head up this new organisation since for many years, Andersen has lived in relative obscurity as a Freighter Captain on the Mars trade route. A former work colleague described Andersen as....” the journalist looked hard at the auto-cue before continuing, “Hot headed and arrogant!”
A few gasps swept around the room and John whispered to Claus, “I wonder what he did to piss him off!”
The programme continued. “In second command is the beautiful and multitalented Haruka O’Brian. The daughter of Natzuki Tanaka, the famous fashion designer and Irish born American congressman- Peter O’Brian, Haruka O’Brian has had a privileged upbringing. As well as achieving awards at the best universities in both countries, Haruka is fluent in three languages, the third being Mandarin.”
“The young women showed great promise in the field of law but disappointed he father when she chose the path of aeronautics. That said, she later went on to become the youngest pilot to graduate the most prestigious flight training school in Europe.”
Haruka did not know where to put herself. Footage of one of her mother’s catwalk shows appeared with elegantly dressed models striding up and down. Natzuki Tanaka stood proudly at the back with arms outstretched.
The image then changed to show her father in a formal suit, walking down a corridor surrounded by journalists. He stopped momentarily to speak to camera, “Yes, I’m extremely proud of my daughter. I always knew she’d make a difference in this world one way or another.” Bright lights flashed around him as he waved to the crowd and excused himself as bodyguards ushered him away to a waiting limousine.
