Even though the doors were very quiet, this action startled the kitten, and she arched her back and hissed. The hair on her body stood straight up, making her look larger than she really was.
The large, scary creature about to attack her was replaced with the less intimidating image of Dozer. He stood in the entranceway, his large luminescent eyes unblinking.
Realizing who it was caused Hiccup to shrink down to her normal size. Eventually, she glanced up, looked him in the eyes, then turned around and walked away. Without hesitation, Dozer followed.
It was the beginning of their feline courtship. Dozer, already an experienced tomcat, began the chase. Even though Hiccup was inexperienced, she made the giant male work for it, and he did. Just when he thought he had Hiccup figured out, she would surprise him. Hiccup even bit him soundly on the nose, letting him know she wasn’t ready, and Dozer, trying to be a perfect suitor, didn’t retaliate.
Eventually, Hiccup gave in to Dozer’s continued charm and affections, and they mated. It happened several times over a three-day period. Dozer was smitten with Hiccup, and Libby soon became aware of his absence. She missed her constant companion, so naturally she went looking for him.
Libby found both cats in Hiccup’s box. Well, Dozer couldn’t fit through the cut-out opening, so just his head rested in the box, his nose buried in Hiccup’s soft hair. She had wrapped her front legs around Dozer’s neck, and they had fallen asleep.
“Dozer, what are you doing?” asked Libby.
Pulling his head out of the box, he meowed at his best friend. Kneeling down, Libby pulled him to her and threw her arms around his neck.
“I missed you, baby. Why have you left me alone?”
Hiccup stuck her head out of the box and meowed. Giggling, Libby soon had both cats in her lap, and they began to purr.
Standing up, Libby got onto Dozer’s back and beckoned for Hiccup to jump into her lap. At first the kitten was coy, but with a little more coaxing, she complied.
“Okay, Dozer, let’s go find Momma,” said Libby.
Dozer knew exactly where to go. Walking down the hall towards crew quarters, they got a few stares from the passing women. It wasn’t every day you saw a cat carrying a child, the child carrying another cat. Word passed rapidly around the ship, and soon the little trio had a long line of well-wishers.
When they finally made it to Susanna and Libby’s room, women crowded around. Everyone wanted to hold and pet Hiccup, and amazingly, Dozer didn’t seem to mind. He watched protectively and sat with Libby on the floor. Hiccup was enjoying all the crew’s attention; she had a youthful trust, unlike Dozer. He was more wary; he knew the dark side of humans.
“Okay, ladies, break it up and get back to your stations,” said a commanding voice. Captain Kriss waded her way through the entourage and came to a stop in front of the seated group.
“Hello, Commander Dozer and Libby. Who is this new little darling?” the captain asked, taking Hiccup out of Libby’s arms.
“It is Hiccup, sir,” blurted Libby.
“And who named her that?” asked Kriss.
“I think it was Connie.”
“What an adorable name. I guess my chief science officer has been busy after all,” said the captain.
Chapter Sixty-Three
“Merc, are you qualified to do a spacewalk?” asked Captain Kriss.
“Of course I am, sir,” Merc responded. “But I feel that Sophi is just as qualified. In fact, I feel she is a better mission specialist than I am.”
“Well, I don’t want both of you out there together. If something were to happen, the ship couldn’t afford to lose you both. One of you should go with another crewmate, and the other should be suited up and ready for backup if necessary.”
“I agree, Captain. Sophi and Charlie can do the spacewalk, and I’ll back them up,” said Merc.
Turning to Connie, the captain said, “Are you sure you know what is wrong with the telescope?”
“Yes, sir, I have thought this through. I’m certain that the telescope’s primary lens has an imperfection. The mirror has to be perfect. If any point of its three-point mounting system sags, it could be off half a wave, and that’s a half a wave of error. That’s a difference between finding Alpha-64 and missing it completely. The mirror has to be replaced or fixed,” said Connie.
“Then how were we able to see the planet on the monitor at all?” asked Kriss.
“There’s a phenomenon called gravitational microlensing, when the gravity of a star focuses the light from a more distant planet and magnifies it like a giant lens. Since Alpha-64 has two suns, the effect was doubled. So even though our telescope wasn’t perfect, it briefly showed us the planet. We are very lucky, because rarely does this ever happen. The signature of the orbiting planet is never perfectly lined up with the lens star—in this case, both binary suns. We were in the right place at the right time, Captain.”
“What if you can’t fix the lens?” asked Kriss.
“We will all die,” Connie said quietly.
“Then get your asses to Engineering,” snapped the captain.
*
Walking towards Engineering, Connie followed Merc and Sophi. When they were out of earshot of the captain, a heated debate began.
“Is the tunnel airlock functional?” asked Connie.
“Of course it is,” responded Merc.
“But we have never actually used one before. We’re basing this only on the simulations we conducted on Earth. How do we even know it will work? No ship has ever gone the speed of light before. Is a spacewalk even possible at that speed?” asked Sophi.
“I’m the ship’s chief science officer and I say it can be done. I take full responsibility,” Connie said sharply.
“Easy for you to say, while you sit back and watch us risk our lives,” Merc said fiercely.
“If you don’t quit this damn arguing, we are all going to die. Maybe you on your spacewalk and maybe me and the rest of the crew when we overshoot Alpha-64,” shouted Connie. “The captain told us to get off our asses and get it done, and if the captain thinks we can do it, then I know that we can. Are we on the same page, ladies?”
“Yes, sir,” said Merc and Sophi.
“Good. Who is doing the spacewalk, Commanders?” asked Connie.
“Sophi will, and Charlie, another mission specialist from Engineering,” said Merc.
“My gut feeling is that the mirror has an imperfection in it. Not the whole mirror, just a section. I believe it is in the center, where the image has to be focused. Based on this assumption, we need to cut the damaged section out and replace it with a new one that you are going to machine out for me,” said Connie. “Let’s get Sophi and Charlie suited up for the repair, and you start making me a replacement section, Merc. I’m going back to Command to coordinate everything and watch the walk.”
Quiet, unassuming Connie had just taken control of the rescue mission, and both commanders knew it was time to follow the chain of command. Walking towards a distant part of Engineering, Sophi and Merc approached a long cylinder of piping wrapped with layers of steel and insulated fabric. The thirty feet of tunnel were split up into four sections sealed off individually by specialized airlocks. An astronaut would be suited up in the first lock, then be introduced into the next lock, and so on until they were in the last lock, where the pressure and temperature were the same as the vacuum of deep space.
Sophi and Charlie began in earnest to get dressed. At six feet four, Charlie Roads Rossi was the tallest of all the women on board. In fact, initially she wasn’t chosen as a crew member by the IWSA because she barely could fit into the ship’s space suits. But she had scored so high on all her tests that IWSA took a second look and accepted her. “Roads,” as her friends affectionately called her, wasn’t aggressive in nature, just confident and eager to prove her worth.
Both Sophi and Charlie were being fitted with Z-12 space suits, the latest Earth had to offer. The suits were hanging from two electric lifts, with the boots contacting the floor. The suits were a one-piece design with a rear-entry port for easy access. A third suit was hung up for Merc if needed. As Charlie got ready to enter her suit, she knew that this moment was what she had been trained for. It was her time to shine.
Stepping into the suits from the rear, the women were sealed in first by an inner hatch cover and then by the PLSS unit. The Portable Life Support System continuously removed carbon dioxide, supplied oxygen, and regulated the temperature in the suit. The new suits were designed to be flexible, and allowed the astronauts to walk normally both in space and on planetary surfaces. The helmet was a large bubble that allowed a 270-degree view and had a visor to use in direct sunlight.
“Com check, can you both hear me?” asked Merc.
Both women gave a thumbs-up.
“I don’t need to tell you how vital this walk is to our future. Let’s hope Connie knows her stuff. You are her eyes and ears. Follow her commands and observe everything you can. Feed it back to her for diagnostics. As long as you stay in physical contact with the hull of the ship, you will be safe. But if for some reason you become detached, you will be lost. The thrust of the electromagnetic engines would soon distance you from the ship. You could become incinerated if you got tangled up with the engines. So please look out for each other and be careful.”
Both women entered the tunnel and closed the first airlock, then moved to the next and the next, each time closing the airlock behind them, until finally there was only one lock between them and outer space.
“I’m watching you both on the ship’s monitors,” said Connie. “Good luck.”
The chamber got colder and the pressure was neutralized to that of space. A red strobe light became activated and pulsated in the tunnel, indicating the last airlock was about to be released. The pulsating strobe gave both women a nauseating feeling deep in their stomachs, and with it came fear. Bravely removing the final titanium lock pin, Sophi gave a thumbs-up to the overhead monitor.
“Releasing final lock now,” said Merc. “Three, two, one, release. Door is now opening.”
Everyone throughout the ship held their breath. The spacewalk was live on all section monitors. The fate of the entire human race was in these two astronauts’ hands.
In a calm voice, Sophi said, “Door is fully opened. Beginning egress now.”
Tentatively, like a child sticking her hand out the window of a fast-moving car, Sophi reached out.
Nothing happened.
Then she stuck her helmet out, and the aft exterior ship camera focused on her head. It looked like a big soap bubble with a human face stuck inside. She looked so fragile.
The bubbled face was lit with a light blue LED glow from the suit’s interior lighting; behind the helmet you could see the white-hot flames from the electromagnetic pulse engines. The engines were so bright that they actually looked like a star themselves, and their glow illuminated the entire length of the ship. But with no trees or other objects around, there was no perception of speed; just the black vacuum of space. If it weren’t for the vibration of the engines shaking the hull, it would have been very peaceful.
Reaching out, Sophi slid the rubber wheel of her fist magnet onto the outer hull; she could feel it grip. She placed the other fist magnet on the hull’s surface and hung there for a second.
The fist magnets worked thanks to the pressure from Sophi’s hands. When she squeezed them, they gripped the hull, and when she relaxed, the magnets let go. But as a failsafe, only one fist magnet would let go at a time. Because of this, the motion was ratchetlike: first release the fist magnet in one hand and roll its rubber wheel along the hull and squeeze, then release the other fist magnet and roll it along the hull.
Another bubble appeared, and then Charlie’s hand reached out and fastened itself to the hull behind Sophi. It took both women about twenty minutes to reach the front of the ship. They had video cameras built into their helmets, and what they saw was broadcast to the crew on the ship’s monitors. Both women looked at each other as if to reassure themselves; their tired and concerned look was viewed by all.
But Sophi’s voice was calm: “We are here, Connie.”
“Stand by, I am extending the telescope,” said Connie.
A circular part of the hull swung inwards and exposed the telescope’s 3.5 meter lens.
“Extending scope now,” said Connie.
The dark tube of the telescope rose silently out of its chamber and stopped in its fully extended position. Carefully, both astronauts fastened themselves to the fragile instrument at specific anchor points made for such repairs. The telescope didn’t need any extra damage.
“Now use the null collector and find the damaged part of the lens,” said Connie.
It was a slow task. The null collector was an accurate instrument, but it only examined a small portion of the mirror at a time. Connie used a computer to track the progress, making sure they didn’t miss a spot or waste time reexamining a spot already tested.
Eventually, thirty-five minutes later, Sophi said, “Got it, Commander. As you hypothesized, the damaged section is at the center axis of the mirror.”
“Now carefully cut it out,” said Connie.
Sophi inserted a rod and traced a circle around the suction cup. The circle wasn’t etched onto the mirror’s face but was a computerized one that was then programmed with the area to be cut by the knife. The knife, a motorized device that fit into the suction cup, used a diamond cutting wheel that was half the thickness of a human hair. It slowly began moving counterclockwise; you couldn’t even tell it had cut anything until it stopped.
Carefully, Sophi pulled on the device, and the cut section pulled free. Everyone in Command cheered loudly, but the crisp voice of Captain Kriss cut them off.
“Ladies, pipe down. We are only halfway done.”
“Good job, ladies,” Connie said. “Now one of you, bring the cut section back to Engineering for Merc to duplicate. And do so carefully. I don’t want it damaged more than it already is.”
“I’ll stay outside. You take this to Merc,” Sophi said, passing the piece of glass to Charlie. “I don’t want you out here any longer than necessary. It’s not safe.”
“Yes, sir,” Charlie said. She turned around and pulled herself towards the open airlock door. It took her more than twenty minutes to crawl back, as she was extra cautious with her precious cargo.
Meanwhile, Sophi looked the telescope over in great detail and let Connie observe everything her camera focused on.
“It’s up to Merc now,” said Connie. “She has to make a perfect duplicate or we will be blind.”
“Roger that,” said Sophi.
“Hang tough, Commander. I’m headed to Engineering,” said Connie.
Charlie had just released the last airlock in the tunnel when Connie made it back to Engineering. Connie and Merc rushed to the astronaut’s side and examined the damaged section. The glass lens was very cold, and a mist of moisture had formed on it. Taking it over to a workbench, Connie scanned the mirror with her eye and transmitted its image to Merc’s R&D computer. Merc analyzed the images and soon had a computer model of a new mirror segment. She then sent these data to the 3-D printer, which began making an exact copy of the inverse of the image out of stainless steel. This inverse copy was going to be the stainless steel mold that would form the new mirror.
Taking the now-formed stainless steel mold from the printer, Merc put it into an hydraulic press. “Okay, Connie, I’m going to funnel the beryllium powder into the mold, and when it’s full, I’m going to give you the honor to press out our new mirror. You can press this button when I tell you to.”
Carefully Merc funneled the powder into the milled casting. It wasn’t really a funnel, but an enc
losed clear dispenser that did not allow any dust to become airborne. It had a clear spout where you could see the steel-gray powder flowing through. It wasn’t gravity that made the powder flow, but a small hydrogen-pressured piston, like in a syringe. Beryllium dust was highly toxic to plants, animals, and humans, so Merc was very careful in dispensing this deadly substance that could save the crew’s lives.
“Okay, Connie, hit the button.”
The hydraulic ram entered the sprue hole and applied pressure to the powder multiple times, until it stopped in the retracted position. The ram was controlled by a computer that adjusted the amount of pressure to get an ideal compaction of the powder. Merc then took it from the press and carefully split the stainless steel mold in half, exposing the unpolished lens. She took the section over to a milling machine to begin the polishing process. She and Connie watched the machine cut off the beryllium sprue and grind the rough surface down to a shiny optic-quality mirror.
“It’s beautiful,” said Connie.
“Yes, it is, but it will be more beautiful in our working telescope,” said Merc.
Connie wrapped the lens in a protective covering. Returning to the tunnel’s entrance, Connie gave the waiting mission specialist the mirror segment.
“Be careful,” said Connie.
Cradling the lens as though it were an infant, Charlie said, “I will, Commander.”
With precision, Charlie worked her way through the airlocks, and soon was ratcheting her way up the hull. About thirty minutes later, she reached the telescope. Handing the package to Sophi, they carefully unwrapped it.
“It has a slight concave shape,” said Connie, who had returned to Command to watch the repair. “Make sure the concave face points outwards from the telescope. If you place it the wrong way, we are back to where we started.”
“Roger that,” said Sophi.
With a suction cup holding the delicate mirror’s face, Sophi pressed the mirror into the circular hole. It fit precisely.
Mutationem Page 18
