Chapter Six: Space station
The night is cryogenic. However, that’s on the other side of the airlock hatch, where darkness will rule the night for the next 20-minutes or so. Inside the airlock, which is located within the micro-gravity hub-section of the station, two astronauts finish with the necessary checklist for EVA. Soon, they expect a green light from operations, and permission to retrieve their precious satellite, which is autonomously returning to nearby coordinates. A handler-crew has just closed and locked the inner-hatch after assisting the two mission-specialists during the tedious task of donning their space suits and necessary tool groupings. Space suits have come a long way since the early days, but still offer more than a hint of rigidity and clumsiness.
In preparation for exit, Wil enters a command into the control panel. After ten seconds, electro-magnets in the deck-plating automatically release, allowing for weightless freedom. Nyla, joyfully anticipates this sensation, as if she’s being released from confinement. Clunking around the staging-area with magnetic boots, like some kind of antique robot, always makes her feel confined. She feels the familiar release of her boots from the deck-plates.... “Weeeeeeeeee!” She exclaims enthusiastically, turning her head so she can see her partner through the wide-angle view of her visor. He’s rising in slow motion next to her, and she notices a tool trying to float away. She turns to face him. “Hold still a moment Wil, I need to adjust your tool strap some.” Reaching to his harness, she grasps an adjustment-strap and gives it a good tug. His boots land back on the deck-plating with considerable force.
“Hey! Watch your strength, little Miss Hercules! I don’t want to end up at the infirmary before we even get to go outside and play. Oh wait, this must have something to do with how I kicked your butt today at handball!” He rubs in his good fortune, at risk of bodily injury later. The two research scientists had a go on the court earlier, and Nyla had a rare, bad time of it.
“Oh, ha ha.... Suck it up, Wilber Wonka! You’re not that delicate!” She exclaims. “Besides, I couldn’t let you go out there like that…. What; you want to drop a big wrench on someone’s head? Why, the paperwork alone would be astronomical.” She jokes, with a snide laugh. “Besides, I let you win!”
The multi-layered attack of quasi-insults, slides off Wil like so much dark matter, off a speeding comet. Nevertheless, he found that pretending to be offended, works best with Nyla. “Sticks and stones my dear! .... Sticks and stones.” he says teasingly. “But seriously, do you really have to call me Wonka? You know I’ve been trying to lose that tag ever since university.”
“Oh, you went to university?” she adds, mercilessly.
“Ouch! Be nice young lady, or it won’t be a wrench I drop on someone’s head!” He threatens playfully.
She gives in, “Okay, okay, I’ll try. But it’s not easy when you give me so much material to work with. Now, let’s focus so we can survive this EVA. I want to live long enough to get some revenge on the court tomorrow.” She unwittingly admits that her loss earlier was not a giveaway, as she had alluded to. She expects Wil to take full advantage of that error, but they’re interrupted by a voice from operations.
“Nyla, Wil.... are you two knuckleheads ready?” This transmission coming in from Randy Stokes, the supervisor on duty in operations. “You’ll have a little over 45-minutes out there to complete your business. And please remember, there’ll be a string of teardrops arriving from Higgs-Field today, so don’t venture outside the EVA envelope we discussed earlier, without checking in first; do you copy?”
‘Teardrop’ is the affectionate nickname given to the atmospheric-entry vehicles that transport the stations personnel back to Earth. After they land, the teardrops are sent back unmanned to the space station from Higgs-Boson Airfield, which is located adjacent to Sohn Space Systems in south-central New Mexico. A powerful magnetic rail-gun, gives the teardrops an initial impetus of 5,000-mph before an internal main-engine accelerates the vehicle to the necessary 18,300-mph needed to achieve and maintain orbit at the stations altitude of 500-miles. The rail-gun, along with a space elevator system in Honduras, lifts scientists and regular workers to waiting transports. This saves the planets biosphere from billions of tons of toxic pollution that chemical rockets produce, just to achieve the same goal. In addition to ecological friendliness, this system has monstrous economic savings as well.
“Copy that Randy. Envelope sensitivity.” Wil acknowledges. “We’ll keep our wits frosty. Also, we’re ready for the green light whenever you’re ready.”
Nyla is closest to the exterior hatch. She waits with restrained patience for the indicator light to switch from red to green. It’s been 3-weeks since her last EVA, and she’s practically vibrating with anticipation. For her, there’s few emotions that are better than that brought on by floating above an entire world, as its splendor slowly rotates beneath.
Finally, a green light! “Are you ready, big boy?” She asks excitedly.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.... let the fun begin!” He informs, continuing to check the security of his other straps. Nyla reaches for the control panel, lifts a tiny safety-cover with the tip of her gloved index finger, and pushes a button. The hatch will open after a 30-second delay, as air-molecules in the compartment are evacuated back into the station. Waste not, want not. Besides, nobody enjoys being violently pushed out of an airlock due to rapid depressurization.
Suddenly, the 10-foot-diameter spiral-hatch glides silently open, revealing the beautiful blue planet below. The ambient temperature instantly drops by several-hundred-degrees, and the enormity of space, with the splendor of Planet Earth, exploding into view. As Nyla floats, just inside the hatch, Wil gives her the tiniest of nudges and watches as she travels out into the great beyond. He exits, by use of the thrusters on his McCandless Maneuvering Unit.
Just a few meters outside of the airlock, they use their MMU’s, to stabilize themselves over a platform designed as a base of operations. Each of them takes a few minutes to soak up the view, acclimating themselves to the grand void before them. It’s been said that there really is no up or down in the weightlessness of space. But most who have experienced an EVA, can honestly say that when floating above the enormity of an entire world, with the endless reaches of space all around, there is most-definitely, a ‘down’. And it comes with a very healthy dose of vertigo, thrown in to boot.
“You know something, Wil? Each time I come out here, the sensation is always the same as the first time.... I hope I never get used to this incredible experience.”
“I know the feeling, young lady. Mere words can’t accurately describe this awesomeness”. As they gaze down at the darkened coast of northwestern Africa, many cities and small towns are illuminated like glowing spider webs. They travel rapidly westward, approaching the coastline where the border between Western Sahara and Mauritania, ends in the waves.
Traveling at 18,300-mph, they streak through space without any sensation of traveling a dozen times faster than a high-powered rifle bullet. The only sense of real movement is from looking down at the planet, and watching continents, slowly move past. In a few minutes, the daylight side of the planet will be below them. Up ahead, there’s sunlight glinting off the Atlantic Ocean. They, and the space station, make a complete orbit in just 98-minutes. Soon, they’ll be over the state of Florida, or what’s left of it after global warming inundated its coast.
The stations main airlock and EVA platform, is located on the end of a long fat-cylinder, that serves as the main hub for the station. This is where the teardrop hanger and science research laboratories are located. The cylinder-hub offers no g-forces for the occupants, and has several airlocks. The airlock Nyla and Wil exited from, faces the planet, and has the best view of all. The outer-section of the station is a 1,200-foot-diameter wheel-like-structure that rotates around the hub and impinges centrifugal forces on the people that live and work above their delicate world.
This rotation provides the outer structure of the station
with artificial-gravity, as it makes a full rotation every 93-seconds. Centrifugal forces, provide outward momentum at the outer edge of the wheel-like structure. From a distance, the station looks similar, to a slowly rotating bicycle wheel.... one with a rather fat hub. Nyla gazes at the blue marble below, and is always amazed at seeing the incredibly thin layer of atmosphere, as it hugs the horizon. Like a gossamer apparition, this delicate layer of gas, is all that keeps the inhabitants of Earth, breathing. From an altitude of 500-miles, it seems in scale, like the vapor that condenses onto the surface of a mirror after a person huffs on it. So unbelievably thin and delicate!
She can’t help wondering how long it can resist the solar winds, if the planets magnetosphere continues to shift and weaken. Paleo-magnetic studies from deep-sea core samples have revealed that many times in the Earths past, the north and south magnetic poles have switched places, relatively abruptly. Leaving the atmosphere and organic life forms vulnerable to much higher concentrations of charged solar particles and cosmic rays, while the switch occurs. Studies have yet to reveal how long this reversal takes to complete, but one thing is for sure, radiation damage to DNA occurs quickly. Mutations or death, a likely result!
Current studies of Earth’s magnetic fields, show a 20-percent decline in overall strength, compared with the past 300-years. She knows, that gravity is only a weak supplemental player in keeping the Earth’s atmosphere grounded. After all, Mars once had a vibrant atmosphere, until its magnetosphere dissipated due to a solidifying iron core. Without the invisible lines of magnetic force surrounding Mars, the solar winds had a field day; wreaking havoc, and blowing most of the planet’s atmosphere into space. Martian gravity was powerless to stop it. While this problem is worthy of study, it’s not by far, the greatest or most immediate challenge facing humanity, during these troubling times.
Slowly rotating, as it’s done for billions of years, the Earth seems to never change when compared to a human lifespan, Nyla ponders. Yet lately, never really looking the same either, she thinks. The unusual weather patterns crossing the continents, are a big part of the difference in continuity, but she also seems to notice how the coastal outlines are changing too. Each time she visits the station, it becomes more obvious how the rising waters of the world’s oceans are encroaching ever so slowly but surely, into the landmasses below.
As the station, will soon be approaching the southeastern seaboard of North America, it’s very noticeable how the waters are dramatically changing the outline of the coast. During the last 200-years, the world’s ocean levels have increased a little over 88-feet, due to the unrelenting ice-melt coming off the Arctic and Antarctic regions. Compared to the old maps from the twentieth century, the state of Florida, is now just a grizzled-fraction of what it used to be.
Pretty much what is left of it, is just a long thin, frazzled strip of land about 50-miles in width, extending south from the Georgia state line, along the spine of the state, to an area just south of Orlando. All the rest is inundated by rising sea levels. It has rapidly transformed from a beautiful tourist destination, into a manatee’s heavenly paradise. Whereas the fresh water alligator is nearing extinction in the area, and the once plentiful bird population is also decimated beyond recognition. The planet is quickly changing, and not for the better.
She can’t make out where Miami used to be quite yet, as they are just now leaving the coast of Africa behind. However, many times in the past, she had flown aircraft over where the city once sprawled. It’s a sad sight, to see only the top-half of the many skyscrapers, poking out from the ocean. A scene that’s repeated across all the coastal regions on the planet.
And to make matters worse, the thermohaline-circulation of the oceans currents, that’s so important to regulating the world’s climate, seems to be shutting down due to the influx of so much fresh water from the melting polar regions. The over-heated, over-populated-planet, may soon become a frozen world, stuck in another crippling ice age. It always amazes Nyla, how one extreme of climate, can eventually bring about the polar-opposite effect. However, once the ice takes over, it’s a long road to recovery, for both the planet and its struggling inhabitants.
She often wonders what the world was like before things got so out of whack. It’s not just the rising sea levels, but the patterns of rainfall are also disrupted. Where food crops once flourished, all that grows lately is dust devils by the millions. In comparison, the desert regions of old, are now deluged with rain. It’s unfortunate the soil there, is so nutrient deficient. Wars for food and fresh water, along with other important resources, are growing in numbers and ferociousness. Dog-eat-dog behavior is becoming the norm, rather than the exception.
Coinciding with all this grief, is the added agony and craziness of the ideological factions. They develop and unleash deadly laboratory grown pathogens onto the world stage, for no apparent reason, except perhaps to just be mean. Some of these groups are actively trying to prevent human expansion to the stars. Their recurring mantra; ‘Sending humans to colonize other worlds, goes against God’s Will’! No amount of logic, will ever change their belief. Which is fine, because people have the right to their own beliefs, as long as they don’t force it onto others. Especially, by use of violence!
Then, a wakeup call from Wil, over their private comm-link, breaks her daydream. “Hey Nyla, remember last year when we relocated those F-88 Raptors from Johannesburg to Higgs-Field for Max? Wow, we sure tore it up coming across the pond, huh?” he reminisces juvenilely. “We came up on Miami so fast; I swear we must have shaken those old skyscrapers to their coral foundations!”
“How can I forget? You seem to leave out the part where we gave heart attacks to the crew of that tramp-freighter, when we flew over at 1.3 Mach, and just 300-feet off the water! I bet our shockwaves rattled their ancestors!” She exclaims exaggeratingly, adding. “Oh, we won’t see anybody down there, you said. We’re way off the shipping lanes, you said. Come on Nyla, it’ll be fun! Trust me, you said.” And then with an incredulous laugh. “I can’t believe I actually followed you down to the deck! And what’s worse, is that I had so much fun doing it! You’re such a bad influence on me! Shame! Shame!” She teases.
With a devious laugh, Wil retorts. “Hey, speed demon; it’s not difficult to influence the willing! Besides, that freighter wasn’t on any well-traveled shipping lanes. I still believe it was a smuggler that deserved to be shaken up. And wow, we shook em good! The only bad part for me was seeing how much fuel we burned, while tearing it up at such low altitude. Oh well, it’s not often when we get to splurge like that.” He justifies, and after a few long moments, adds. “But it sure can’t hold a candle to being up here, can it Nyla?” He asks, tenderly.
She turns her head while her dark brown eyes, soak up the panoramic view. “Nothing can hold a candle to this, my friend. Nothing…. It feels like a dream every time. Of course, present company accentuates it to no small degree.” She giggles mentally, figuring a tiny compliment now and then, will keep him off balance. Best to stay an enigma, wrapped in a riddle, she thinks.
“Why, thanks Nyla. And might I say, that even though the feeling is mutual, don’t look for any mercy on the court, just because you throw me a bone now and then.” Before she could retort, a tiny light on their wrist pads illuminates, and a chirp in their earpieces, informs that the satellite has parked at its return coordinates. These coordinates being a safe distance from the station, as the power for the satellite is a plutonium-238 thermoelectric generator, that could present a serious contamination hazard if it were to crash into the station. It’s better to retrieve it manually with a gentle touch, preventing risk to the station and the 75 people onboard. Besides, they must perform maintenance on it anyway, so that it can continue with its data-gathering mission.
“Well Nyla, it seems our time for lollygagging has come to an end.” Wil says, while turning towards their goal for the day. In the distance, they can see sunlight glinting off its surfaces.
“Last one th
ere, is a monkey’s uncle!” She challenges jokingly.
However, they don’t actually race off into the void, but instead cautiously maneuver side by side toward the shiny object, while hoping to not be impacted by any speeding foreign objects. The space around earth is now a much safer place than it was during 2038 through about 2154 when any satellite in orbit was meeting a grisly end; as the Kessler syndrome went wild. Each collision of debris with functioning satellites, created more debris, which cascaded out of control. Global internet went down, and modern society nearly collapsed back into the dark ages.
Since then, humans have prevailed with an aggressive cleanup, but every now and then, an ancient remnant collides with something important. Nyla and Wil, take their time traveling the 300-meters out to the satellite. This, gives them plenty of time to watch the world turning below.
Five-hundred miles beneath them, and twenty-miles off the coast of Mauritania, West Africa, the night has been ruling for a few hours already. A rusty tramp-freighter plies the waters on a north-westerly heading at seven-knots. On the darkened bridge, the captain gets up from his elevated chair and moves to the illuminated radarscope. The operator points to a tiny dot on the screen, indicating that their contact is closing with them. “Contact the signalman and have him coordinate the rendezvous for 23:00 hours. And remind the fool to use infrared, not white light!” The captain orders rudely, as he attempts to keep his ship as inconspicuous as a tramp-freighter can hope to be. “Aye Aye, captain,” the sailor replies, reaching for the inter-phone.
Soon, both ships are within visual range, even though they only produce dark silhouettes against the horizon. Darkened flags, fly from the mast of the ship that approaches the tramper. One is an American flag, but the ship is not registered in the states. Another, portrays an iron-fist clenching a group of lightning bolts. The ship itself is a work of art, compared to the tramp-freighter. Below deck on the tramper, four men struggle to move a large heavy-duty cart towards the ship’s cargo elevator. On the cart is a rectangular pine box. At about 8-feet-long, and 3-feet-square, it’s large enough that it could have been Frankenstein’s coffin. However, it’s worse…. much, much worse.
Supervising the movement is two other men, one of them very agitated. “I’m telling you! No inspection, no gold! The end! .... My client was explicit about that fact, and your people agreed to it! …. Now, if I’m not allowed to inspect the item within say,” checking his watch, “the next four minutes…. I push this!” He displays a lipstick-sized transmitter that had mysteriously appeared in the palm of his hand. “And one-ton of pure gold, sails away, never to return …. Capeesh?” The man with the transmitter threatens, his thumb poised to push the button.
“My friend! My friend! Put that silly thing away! We are brothers here, are we not?” The cargo-master begs, putting a hand on the others shoulder. “You are right, and I am wrong! Forgive me, my friend, I’m just concerned that something might happen during the testing procedure.” Pointing to the moving box, he adds. “Who knows what can happen with 85-year-old electronics, eh?” He yells an order, the cart with the box stops, and one of the workers moves off to retrieve a crowbar with which to open it.
“Thanks Anatoly! You had me worried there for a minute!” The man with the capeesh-button says exasperatingly, while friendlily shaking an index finger. “Now don’t you be concerned about it my friend.... That’s my job.”
The man with the button, also has a backpack full of electronic equipment, which he dips his hand into, retrieving a laptop that’s required for testing this type of specialized electronics. He wakes the sleeping computer, plugs a data-link cable into its side port and waits.
Noticing that the men had finished opening the pine box, he approaches the bulky, cone-shaped object inside. The inspection panel he needs is within easy reach. Using a specialized screwdriver, he removes a series of screws, pulling off an aerodynamic panel from the side of the beast. Then, taking a minute to familiarize himself with such an antiquated system, he finds the data-link portal he needs, and plugs in the cable from his laptop. It’s one of the last things he ever does in this universe.
His index finger hovers over the enter-key for the program he’s loaded. It’s chilly below deck, but he breaks into a sweat, as he fights strong doubts. Then, throwing caution to the wind, he takes a deep breath…. thinks about his family…. and pushes the key. Electrons, flow from the laptop into the cone-shaped object; forcing themselves into ancient pathways, that had long ago deteriorated. Pressure builds, as electrical current finds high resistance on circuits that should have little, or no resistance where there should be some. Many of the circuit-pathways have conductive-fuzz growing between them, that had been migrating out of the aging metal circuits, making for a chaotic number of possibilities.
Quite suddenly; one possibility becomes an extremely bright reality, as uncontrolled electrons find their way through the testing circuitry, arc to an arming circuit, and ram head-on into the detonation logic; which fortunately is still very functional! Within a nanosecond, the brightest flash of white-light, illuminates the surrounding ocean and coastline of northwestern Africa after the cone-shaped object, does what it was designed to do .... detonate. The man with the button, the crew, the tramp-freighter, and millions-of-tons of ocean water, are violently transmuted into the constituent sub-atomic particles that previously made up the elements of their existence in this universe.
The other ship.... the one with the gold.... she’s snatched up and crushed, before being melted and slammed back into the ocean, a half-mile away. She quickly sinks to the bottom, leaving a trail of whimpering bubbles. Never to become the backup for her sister ship, in the Gulf of Mexico. That evening, the West Saharan coastline had two sunsets; as nearly 20-megatons of ancient war-machine unleashes its mighty wrath, illuminating a wide swath of ocean and jungle alike.
The visors of the stunned astronaut’s dim automatically when the intense white-light from the thermonuclear detonation smashes into them. They were both looking down at the planet when it happened. After the initial flash and confusion, they came to realized what had occurred. Their visors quickly adjust back to normal as the intense flash passes. Nyla is the first to gain her voice. “Oh, my freaking god! What the hell! Has the world gone completely crazy? I mean…. what the hell!” She exclaims viscerally, as other words fail to form.
Below, a seething, glowing, spherical-mass of expanding plasma, reaches for the stratosphere. To the shocked space-walkers, it’s about the size of a billiard ball, held at arm’s length. Ever expanding .... it lives its violent life, to the fullest.
“I’m speechless.” Wil manages to respond. “Absolutely speechless!” He’s completely mesmerized by the horrific sight. Captivated by the surrealistic beauty of the seething plasma bubble. Glowing and churning, it reaches for him. Like an enraged beast, it claws violently at the sky, trying to escape the surely bonds of Earth. After long moments, he finds his voice. “Now that’s one of those things you can never unsee!” He jokes hypnotically. Nyla knows he’s stunned when she hears him using a word that’s not even in the dictionary. After a few more moments, he adds. “Hey Nyla, better check your systems, especially the MMU thrusters. That electromagnetic-pulse that just went through us, may have affected the gear.
Suddenly, a frantic call from Randy Stokes. “Hey, what the hell are you two doing out there? What was that bright flash? Please tell me you two didn’t crash that satellite into the planet.” Randy, isn’t even sure if he’s joking or not. “What the hell just happened?” He demands again. “Almost all the stations lights have gone out, and other systems are going haywire in here too! Hey, are you two, okay? Over.”
“Hey, Randy.” Wil transmits, after switching to the operations frequency. “Yeah were okay, thanks for asking. And no, we didn’t crash the satellite into the planet. That flash you saw, was a thermonuclear detonation, somewhere off the northwest coast of Africa. I’m guessing the electromagnetic-pulse it created, is what knocke
d out the lights. You might want to check the life-support systems before anything else; over.”
“What? A nuclear bomb? Holy crap! What’s wrong with people!” Randy blows a circuit, before calming. “Hey, I didn’t mean to suggest that you and Nyla blew up the world or anything .... Holy Crap! What’s wrong with people!” Randy has a difficult time processing the event. After a long pause, he continues. “Okay guys, I hate to do this to you, but I need you to abort the retrieval until we know more about the effects this event had on the satellites systems, and the station in general. I would rather postpone, than risk further complicating the situation; over.”
With a sound of disappointment in his voice, even though he knows that Randy is well within his rights to be cautious. “Copy that Randy .... My, what a shame .... Ok, but we’re already out here at the satellite, so we’re going to take a few minutes and check some of its systems; over.”
“Copy that Wil; see you when you get back. Good luck out there. And I mean that for you too Nyla.” Randy adds, with a lighter tone.
“Thanks, Randy. We’ll see you soon.” She inputs, while continuing onward toward the parked satellite. Below, the fiery maelstrom is cooling, and blending back into the dark haze. She switches to their private communication channel. “Hey Wil, don’t you think it strange, that the bomb went off in such a desolate place? I doubt there’s a viable target within 500-miles.”
“I would have to guess it was an accident, Nyla.” Wil speculates. “That’s my sincere hope anyway. Except, that blast was from a city-killer; not a small tactical-nuke. Let’s just hope we don’t have any repeat offenders, anytime soon. I imagine this is going to have a profound effect on Max, with launch-time so near.”
“Some accident!” Nyla exclaims. “Wow, I’d hate to be the one who got the kisser full of sunshine. Hell of a way to go! .... Painless I’m sure, but still, one hell of a way to go!”
Arriving at the magnetometer satellite, she’s relieved to see that a systems-panel on the side of the craft, is still illuminated and ready for action. “Well, it seems our big friend here was adequately shielded.” She informs, while entering testing protocols. While she waits for the results of the tests, she checks the propellant levels and pressures, within the satellites thrusters. After seeing healthy levels there, she notices that the testing procedure had completed. Everything looks good on the satellite, so she connects a data-link cable and starts downloading the information that had compiled.
It didn’t take long for the download to complete. And as much as she hates to leave the delicate machine parked so far away from the station, she knows that it’s in its own element. They’ll retrieve it another time. “Everything looks good on the satellite, Wil. He’ll station keep just fine for another two weeks. I’m ready to head back whenever you are,” she transmits.
“Copy that Nyla. I’m ready, and willing. Let’s go see how big of a mess Randy got himself into.” They gracefully glide side by side, toward the fat Ferris-wheel in the sky. Most of the external lighting that’s normally illuminated, is now dark. There are not many windows on the structure, so most people probably didn’t even see the detonation. They simply met with one of the consequences; electrical anomalies. “I sure hope the airlock is still operational.” Wil says.
“Well, if it’s not, we’ll just squeeze you in through the milk-chute, and you can unlock it from the inside.” Nyla jokes, trying to mask her uneasiness. She’s actually dreading the chaos that might be happening just beyond those metal walls. It can be a scary thing when the lights go out, and electronics don’t work properly. Especially in space!
Wil gets a chuckle out of her levity; he needed a boost in the funny-bone department, and Nyla is always a good source for that. “With my luck,” he responds playfully, “I’d get stuck halfway through! Like Winnie the Pooh! .... Now, wouldn’t that be a sight!”
After reaching the darkened staging-platform, they remove some of the tools they had taken for working with the satellite. After stowing what they can into lockers, they maneuver towards the airlock using their MMU’s.
“Okay Wil, you do the honors please, and open the hatch.”
“My pleasure young lady, now don’t the hatch hit you on the tail-skid when it closes.” Wil risks bodily injury when they get inside, but they both breathe a sigh of relief as the control-panel comes to life on command. “That’s one big hurdle,” he says, “here goes the next.” He inputs a series of numbers, and pushes enter. The large hatch, spirals open unceremoniously, as if everything is right with the universe. The two space-walkers have never been so happy to see a hatch open!
Once past the airlock, technicians help them off with their MMU’s and space suits. Tools are returned to storage cabinets, and the two astronauts float off to their lab. There, they deposit any remaining gear, and try to get organized before the 30-minute elevator ride to the gravity section. Wil calls Randy, letting him know that they’re done with the EVA. “Yes, that’s right Randy, we’ll be up there in about 30 .... see you then.”
Nyla is ready to go, long before Wil gets organized. She chafes at the bit with anticipation. Hovering upside down in a lotus position, she blocks the elevator doors from closing, counting the agonizing seconds that Wil is late. Finally, he approaches, entering the claustrophobic conveyance she’s been holding. “Thank you my dear. It’s great to see the electrical system is still working on this ride. Sorry it took so long to get organized. Shall we use our override authority today?” He asks innocently, not realizing that her mood had soured.
“As if we don’t use it every day!” She retorts sharply, reaching past and inputting a code that’ll allow the carriage to double its speed. Normally the elevator moves very slowly to the outer wheel so people can acclimate themselves to the gravitational increase which starts at practically zero in the hub area, and increases to a full-g at the outer-ring of the station.
“Sorry Wil,” she knew instantly that she had been much too harsh, and hands him a fake-something, “here’s your head back. I didn’t mean to bite it completely off.” She says with an apologetic tone and a demonic laugh. She wipes imaginary blood from her mouth with the back of her hand, making loud slurping sounds. Wil laughs, but notices that she’s working herself up into another one of her rare moods. He hopes she can manage to plateau her state of mind, before having another one of her little episodes.
He smiles widely. Reaching, he takes her hand as the elevator zooms outward at one-third-mph. They sit there for 15-minutes with eyes closed, holding hands and trying to empty their minds of recent chaotic events. They feel the ever-increasing force of centrifugal-energy flow through their bodies as they approach the rotating outer station. Like climbing into a warm bath, the sensation of returning gravity washes over them, as normality slowly returns once again.
When they emerge into the common area of the station, they find a state of orderliness that’s unexpected. Although the normal station lighting is not yet restored, people still manage to get around quite well with the dim illumination of the emergency lights. Moving towards operations, the space walkers stop often, greeting fellow researchers who are all interested in what it must have been like to witness such an explosion. Each time, Wil lets Nyla describe the event, and it seems to calm her down a little bit, with each telling of the story.
Everybody seems to be upbeat, even though their personal electronics are trashed, and many experiments ruined. Some of them had spent their entire careers building to the point where they could travel up here and perform such research. It’s not unheard of for people to look toward suicide, during these emotional tsunamis. However, so far Nyla and Wil don’t suspect anything like that among their fellow scientists.
Operations is just up ahead as they walk along the corridor that circumnavigates the station. There’s a dozen or so people waiting in line to enter. The shielded communications equipment within, is the only working link with the world below. Nyla and Wil get into line, only to have Randy see them on his vide
o feed and invite them in after apologizing to those that were already waiting. “I’m so glad you two got back safely! It must have been quite a sight out there. Is the satellite parked at its authorized coordinates?” He asks, apprehensively.
“Yes Randy, it is. We’ll try another retrieval tomorrow.” Wil responds, and asks a question. “How are things going for the station? Any major complications arise from that EMP?”
“Nothing too major as of yet. Unless you count 142 high-priority experiments ruined, and nobody’s personal electronics is working anymore. I’m still waiting to hear back from the crew that’s working on the lighting.” He informs, adding. “But the satellite will have to wait. Doctor Max contacted us 10-minutes ago, insisting that you get in touch with him as soon as possible. He seemed very upset…. like he was sitting on pins and needles, the poor fellow. Please use the comm at Station-Charlie, over there,” he points, to a console across the room, “as soon as Emily is finished.”
Nyla and Wil wait patiently for their turn, as Randy energetically moves around the room directing repair operations and calming excited people. Wil is impressed with the way Randy is holding up during this time of exited uncertainty.
After several minutes, Emily finishes with the call she made to her family on the planet below. She holds back tears while relinquishing her seat at the console. Nyla puts an arm around her shoulder, offering comfort as she escorts the distraught woman out of operations. Wil sits down at the console, inputting the necessary numbers to reach Max.
With time passing and no answer, Wil wonders if Max is going to pick-up, when suddenly the monitor comes to life with the face of a worried old man, whose mop of white hair hadn’t seen a comb for a long, long time. “Hello Wil!” Max exclaims. “I’m so glad to see your face! Is Nyla with you? Are you both ok?” The doctor is beside himself with anxiety.
Wil puts on his best ‘everything is fine’ smile, and reassures the doctor that the situation at the station is stable and improving every minute. “It’s great to see you too, Max! Yes, we’re fine. Nyla and I are safe and sound. Randy Stokes is handling the situation up here like the professional he’s trained to be.” He says, while trying to put a positive spin on the situation. “Things could be much worse up here Max, but so far there are no reported injuries, and the maintenance crews are sizing up the repairs. Please don’t worry. Remain calm, and we’ll take things one-step at a time. What have you heard about the nuclear event?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” the doctor says hopelessly, “perhaps nobody ever will. Those crazy bastards blew themselves all to atoms, and it’ll take forever to figure out just what really happened. We don’t even know if the device was airborne, or not. It’s all so frustrating!” He removes his glasses and massages his temples for a moment, before continuing.
“My boy, I have a request to make of you and Nyla. Things are coming together rapidly down here. Good things, as well as bad. Crucial new information has come to light, and I need you both back down here as soon as possible. I can’t get into it any further right now. I just hope you understand. Now, I know how much you hate leaving a job unfinished, but please give an old man a break.” Poor Max, is almost in tears as he finished speaking.
Wil feels so bad for him. He knows better than to ask for more time under these trying circumstances. “Now don’t you worry another minute, Max ole boy! I’ll ask Randy to have a teardrop prepped as soon as possible, and we’ll be back at Higgs before you can find your comb.” He jokes, hoping to put a smile back on the old man’s face. It works....
“Yes, yes my boy.” Max manages to find a genuine smile from deep inside, as he ruffles his white mop of hair. “Thank you. I knew I could depend on you to not put up a fight. See Randy for information about the teardrop, and may the two of you have a safe flight home. Shirley and I will be looking forward to seeing you both, soon.” The doctor breaks the transmission after Wil says goodbye. Nyla comes back, just in time to miss the call.
“What did I miss, Wil?” She inquires, as Wil glances around, trying to find Randy.
“Well my dear, you missed an old man that loves us very much.” He starts the bad news with a statement that might soften her up a bit, before sliding in the sharp pain of disappointment. “Max is requesting that we suspend all work up here and return to Higgs as soon as possible.” He cringes inside at the negative reaction he expects her to display, but is shocked when she accepts the bad news like a trooper, who had already figured that part out.
“Oh, I suspected he would ask us that, the poor fellow. How’s he taking the fact that the world just got a lot crazier?”
“Well, let’s just say he’s a man sitting on a box of nitroglycerin, in a wagon being pulled down a bumpy road by wild horses.” He jokes, metaphorically. “He won’t be able to relax until his rockets are launched, and safely on their way to Mars.”
They cross the compartment, meeting with the busy supervisor. “How’s the good doctor doing?” Randy inquires.
“Oh, he’s doing as well as can be expected, under the circumstances.” Wil reports. “As you may or may not suspect, he wants Nyla and me back on the planet, as soon as possible.”
“I thought as much. Most of the scientists up here have been getting instructions from their respective institutions to pack-up and head home. Many are taking the news poorly, because they were hoping to restart their experiments. I’m sure the same goes for you two, but this is bigger than we’re prepared for right now.” Catching himself before he begins to ramble, Randy focuses. “Now, as you may know, we are short of teardrops.” He builds a foundation of pity, before asking the tough question.
“The series of refurbished teardrops we expected today has been postponed until we have more data on how the station is faring. Of course, we always keep one on reserve for you two, so that won’t be a problem. However, it may take 12-hours for maintenance to make sure it’s still safe. While you’re waiting, may I request that you consider taking 6 others with you? We can use all the seats we can get our hands on.” Randy asks, expectantly.
They don’t even have to think about it. Nyla speaks up enthusiastically for them both. “My heavens yes, Randy! We would be happy to help, any way we can. The more the merrier we always say! .... Right, Wil?” She elbows him in the side.
“Yes, yes…. no problem Randy, ole boy! Just organize the folks that’ll drop with us, and have them ready their things. Although we’re not rushed for time, ask them to be ready on a moment’s notice just the same.”
Randy hadn’t smiled so wide in quite a while. “Fine! Fine! I knew I could count on you two! You’ll both be heroes to six very grateful people. I’ll have Hudson calculate a series of windows for the next 24-hours, while you folks pack whatever you need to take with. I’ll request that the teardrop crew put a priority on the inspection, and hopefully have you on the way home early tomorrow.... “And, I’ll have the Blake twins recover the satellite for Doctor Max, as soon as things settle down. So, don’t worry yourselves about that. Now, if I don’t see you again before you leave, I just want you both to know that it’s been a true pleasure having you two up here again, and I hope you can visit again real soon.” He shakes Wil’s hand vigorously, gives Nyla a warm hug. “Goodbye Nyla, please take care, and have a safe drop home.”
“Thanks, Randy! Take care!” She offers smilingly.
“Thanks for everything, Randy. See you on the flip side.” Wil says graciously, as the two scientists leave operations to prepare. As long as there’s no big hurry, Nyla and Wil each retire to their respective staterooms, organizing for the next day’s drop. With power outages throughout the station, there really isn’t much else to do anyway.
Before they know it, early morning is upon them. They head off to the zero-gravity section to close the laboratory. Nyla can’t believe how messy it is. Not a dirty messy, but there are superfluous piles of equipment anchored here, there, and everywhere. She and Wil become busy like two whirlwinds, putting things away into storage lockers
and drawers. For about 30-minutes, the room is filled with things floating here and there, as they frantically try to organize the clutter. Finally, they see the light at the end of the tunnel, and they’re ready to power down the computers and turn out the lights. With sadness in her voice. “I’m going to miss this place Wil. We learned a lot here, and had fun doing it. I sure hope we get the chance to come back soon.”
“The same goes for me Nyla. The same goes for me.” He repeats with true sincerity as he turns out the lights and closes the door. Just outside the lab, they meet up with a messenger sent by Randy to inform them that the teardrop is ready, and the passengers have been notified. The two astronauts, float a short distance down a corridor and enter the hanger bay. Upon entering, they see the machine that will take them down to the planet. It’s about 90-feet long, and 35-feet in diameter at its fattest, which is a third of the way back from the front end. They float to the entrance door of the spacecraft, greeting people who’ve yet to maneuver into the vessel.
They’re smothered in thankful sentiments from the grateful folks that desperately need to get back to Earth. Wil stabilizes himself as best he can, while guiding the remaining people into the interior of the ship. Nyla is already inside, assisting people into their seats. She helps with the 5-point restraint-harnesses that will keep them secure during the sometimes-violent atmospheric entry.
The passenger compartment is nicely furnished with leather seats, new carpet, and a row of large monitors that are form-fitted to run along the sides and front wall of the compartment in a seamless u-shape fashion. There are no actual windows in the spacecraft, but these high-definition displays will provide live-feed from outside of the vehicle via a fiber optic video system. They offer an unparalleled panoramic view, at an affordable price.
Actual windows are heavy, and create weak-points in the spacecraft’s structure, at a hundred times the cost of a few monitors and heat-resistant video systems. The flight deck also has a series of high-definition displays running seamlessly in another u-shaped configuration. Providing the crew with a beautiful view, even though most of the flight is conducted by watching flight data on smaller screens located on the forward instrument panel. However, it’s nice to be able to see what’s happening outside if the urge develops, which it often does, especially during the final approach, and landing.
Upon entering the cabin area, Wil notices that Emily is dropping with them, and is already seated among the other scientists. She nods her head, and thanks them as she dabs her rosy nose with a tissue. She has a look of genuine gratitude on her sad face.
After gaining the flight deck, Nyla floats towards the right-hand seat, but she feels an iron-grip on her ankle, as Wil holds her back. “I drove last time young lady. Won’t you be a dear, and take the left seat for this drop?” He asks, but it doesn’t come out like a question. “Unless you don’t feel like it today, because I don’t mind driving....” However, he notices her face brighten. Nyla loves being the captain....
“Thanks, Wil. Don’t mind if I do!”.... She loves flying atmospheric entry. So, with a big smile, she settles into the captain’s seat, and begins securing her 5-point harness, while her first officer, and partner in crime, straps himself into the right seat.
Breaking Interstellar: Android Lives Matter Page 7
