“Glad to help,” he said, and made his way toward the cabin. “I’ll keep the intercom headset if you need me.”
Tom followed him to the hatchway and quietly shut the cockpit door, engaging the digital combination lock from inside. The flight deck was now sealed tight.
While they were depressurizing the cargo bay, that same annoying tickling sensation had returned and seemed to brush the hairs on the back of his neck. Now alone, he pulled a small memo pad from his sleeve pocket, tore out a couple of pages, and set them free.
In zero-g they would float at random until being picked up by air currents. As the minutes passed, he watched them begin to drift overhead and swirl towards the emergency escape hatch, circling it like leaves down a storm drain.
The same memo pad held a picture of Elise that he’d taped inside its cover. He gazed at it longingly, gently peeled the tape away, and carefully placed it in the center of his control yoke.
60
Austral Clipper
“We’re going to be fine, you know that,” Ryan said calmly, and grasped Marcy’s arm. She nodded anxiously behind her visor. “We just follow their lead and get our people out of here. All we have to do is enjoy the view while they pull us along that tether. Just be glad you’re not tucked into one of those human hamster balls, right?”
She stared silently at the outside door. The compartment was in vacuum, but they were not yet open to space. The only audible sound was her breathing and the whirring circulation fans inside her suit.
“You with me?”
“I’m with you,” she sighed, snapping out of her trance. “It’s strange—I always wanted to do this, but now I’m scared to death.”
“Think of it like skydiving. Remember that?” he offered, recalling a surprise he’d set up for her during an extended layover in Hawaii. “You ended up enjoying it, if I recall.”
“Yeah, once the parachute finally opened,” she said. “That was some birthday present, not knowing if I’d live to see the next one.”
“Well, you won’t need a chute for this. It’s too far down to make a difference.”
“You’re not making me feel any better,” she said as he pushed off for the door.
“In that case let’s just get on with it,” he said. “Glare shields down…here goes nothing.” He slid the black reflective visor down over his faceplate and punched the lock.
The compartment exploded in sunlight as the big door slid open and the station’s gleaming metallic framework filled their view. Backlit by the slowly spinning globe beyond, it was impossible to escape the sensation that they were actually falling
around
the Earth.
And it was a long way down.
Not ten meters away, two space-suited astronauts waved at them. Marcy reached for Ryan’s hand and gripped it hard enough for him to feel through the firm gloves.
“Okay, so it’s not exactly like skydiving,” he admitted.
…
ISS
“They’re open,” Poole heard the Russian report through his headset. “The safety tether is secured to Node One airlock.”
“PREs ready?” he asked.
“Yes,” Petrov replied. “Proceeding on your mark.”
“Stand by,” he instructed. “Polaris, Station. Are your people up on our freq?”
“That’s affirmative,” Ryan answered for them. “We’ll maintain VOX on this channel from here on. Ready when you are.”
“Sergei, your EVA is go,” Poole said without waiting for Houston. “Go fetch ‘em, gents.”
…
Petrov unconsciously tugged at his safety tether while checking his aim point—right at the center of that big hatch where two waving crewmen now floated, hard to miss in their international-orange pressure suits. The entry was easily big enough to fit a small car through, he thought before launching himself into the void. It would be an easy target from ten meters.
Regardless of his experience, it was always a delicate balance between pushing off with enough force to cover the distance, but no so much as to bowl over the two rookies waiting for him…or injure himself if his aim was off and he hit the side of that plane.
Petrov floated effortlessly across the void to the yawning door. Max helpfully stopped his traverse by pulling up the slack on the other side of their tether just as he entered the Clipper.
“
Spasibo
,” he said over the radio. “Thank you, Max,” he repeated in English, and quickly steadied himself against handholds along the deck’s walls and ceiling. “Sergei Petrov, station engineer,” he greeted with a wave of his gloved hand.
Ryan and Marcy returned the gesture.
“My comrade’s name is Max Becker,” Sergei said, gesturing through the open door towards the station’s airlock. “He will send the rescue enclosures over once we have secured the tethers here.”
“Well then, let’s get to it,” Ryan said, looking over the d-ring connection offered by the Russian, exactly as they’d been told to expect. “Those ought to work fine on our external lift points,” he said approvingly, and pulled himself along a handhold to the doorsill. He focused on the task and leaned out over the edge, ignoring the yawning gulf beyond it. “Just outside by the wing-body join…there,” he said, pointing to a small access hatch embedded in the wing root. He braced himself against the handrail, reached out, and popped it open to expose a trunnion underneath.
“We were all kind of counting on that, Polaris,” Poole interjected over their frequency. “Otherwise this exercise would get a lot more complicated.”
Sergei lifted his glare shield and gave them a knowing smile, reaching past Ryan to connect the safety line.
…
“Tethers secured,” Poole heard Max report. “PREs are attached at Node One,” he added. “Transferring to the Clipper now.”
Through the expansive cupola windows, Poole could see the four white spheres being pulled across to the Clipper’s open bay. He thumbed his microphone switch for the mission control frequency. “Houston, tell your friends in Denver that we’re sending the balls over.”
…
Denver
They could see the television feed but it was reassuring to hear someone talking them through. “Charlie, Houston reports transfer lines are secure on both ships, and the rescue balls are onboard,” Penny said after taking another call from Audrey.
“Very good,” he said, noticing an approving nod from Hammond from the corner of his eye. “They should be clear to button up and pressurize.”
She paused to look over a system controller’s shoulder at their environmental telemetry. “501, Denver. How’s it going up there, Tom?” she asked.
“Just waiting on the kids in back,” Tom replied. “Ryan says they’ve got the rescue balls onboard.”
“That’s affirmative,” she said, once again looking over the man’s shoulder. “How’s your cabin pressure differential holding up?”
He paused longer than usual. “I’m still breathing. Don’t sweat it.”
“And the pax cabin?”
“Like I said, don’t sweat it. Let’s finish this EVA.”
Hammond caught their exchange and walked over. “What’s going on with their cabin delta?” he asked.
“Not sure. Tom’s not giving up much, but I don’t like it.”
61
Austral Clipper
Wade called Tom over the intercom. “Main door is secure. There’s a Russian cosmonaut in the cargo deck,” he said, looking through a small porthole in the hatch, “and four rescue balls. Ryan’s giving me a thumbs-up for repress. Man, those things look small.”
“They’ll seem a lot bigger with no gravity. You won’t have to be in it that long anyway.”
“Sounds almost like you’ve done this before,” he replied.
“Nope…just wishful thinking. Let me enjoy my delusion, Wade.”
Now what was that about?
He gently pushed off towards the forward cabin and checked on Carson and Whitney; both had their faces pressed against windows, giddily searching for the best view of the spacewalk. Knowing that salvation lay such a short distance away heightened their enthusiasm. Neither of them was thinking about that last, short ride across the void being the scariest part.
And neither had they noticed the flight deck was closed off. Above the door frame, Wade saw a red light signaling the secure door was locked and could not be opened from the outside. That’s not what they had agreed on during their improvised briefing. He slipped his feet into the floor restraints and knocked twice on the door. “You all right in there?”
“I’m good,” he heard Tom’s muffled voice say from the other side. “Just keep an eye on your companions and be ready to help Ryan and Marcy.”
“Sure about that?” he asked, pulling himself down to a small touch-screen life support panel by the door. He was unfamiliar with it, but the menu was intuitive enough. Tapping through it, he quickly learned the air pressure in the cockpit was substantially lower than the cabin’s.
He plugged his headset into an open intercom jack. “Your cabin press isn’t holding. You need to open the door.”
…
Tom was floating freely and pushed himself back over to an identical life-support panel behind the pilot seats. He removed his headset, making certain the voice-activated channel to Denver was shut off, and picked up the intercom phone.
“Can’t do that, Wade. If I expose the rest of the cabin, I’m afraid we won’t be able to re-press when it’s time for you guys to get into the rescue balls.”
“How bad is the leak?”
“Bad enough…we’re losing about one-half psi per hour. Pax cabin’s held fairly steady since I closed off the cockpit, so the source is definitely in here. Pretty sure it’s the emergency egress hatch,” he said. Its seal had been a recurring problem on the entire fleet, but had never been exposed to vacuum for this long.
“You don’t have to do this,” Wade pleaded. “Maybe the leak is somewhere else,” he said, immediately realizing how faulty his logic was. The theory made sense, and no one up here knew this plane as well as he. “I’ll bet we can keep pressure in the cabin long enough.”
“Willing to bet your life on that?” Tom replied. “Or everyone else’s? I’m not.”
Wade considered that for a moment. Before he could argue further, Tom finished his thought.
“Somebody has to mind the ship while everyone else gets out, Wade. That’s my job.”
He was right, of course. Sickening as it was, Wade understood. At worst, a leak like that could give way at any time and rapidly expose the entire cabin to space. And they’d already experienced enough worst-case scenarios over the past few days.
“Aye aye, captain,” he sighed dolefully, and moved back to the passenger cabin.
“Everything all right up there?” asked Carson.
“Just peachy,” he said gruffly, pushing past him for the cargo hatch.
62
Austral Clipper
On the other side, they were closed up and re-pressurizing. The door panel display showed both compartments close to equilibrium. Ryan and Marcy turned off their life support packs and opened their faceplates. Sergei remained buttoned up in his own suit; he was on a different mixture and had several more hours of breathable air compared to their miserly two hours.
“Feels good,” she said, breathing in. “I hate being closed up like that.”
“Could be worse,” Ryan smiled as he lifted up one of the rescue balls. “I’ll bet Magrath would gladly trade places with you,” he said, looking over the three-foot enclosure. It was made of the same material as the Station’s spacesuits. Redundant layers of zippers ran around its circumference with a small porthole and life-support package adorning the outside. Inside, a full-face oxygen mask was connected to the tank. “So this is their primary O2 supply?”
“
Da
,” Sergei replied, his voice muffled despite shouting through the faceplate. “Inside it relies on ambient pressure from the ship. Breathing oxygen comes through the mask.”
Marcy twisted her face into a disapproving grimace. “Never mind,” she said, opening up the hatchway into the passenger cabin. “Wade, your ride’s here,” she exclaimed, pushing one of the PRE balls through the air toward him.
Ryan pushed the remaining enclosures into the cabin and sailed in behind them. “Saddle up, everyone. Make sure your tray tables are upright and seat belts are securely fastened.”
“Hey,” Marcy protested. “That’s
my
line.”
“Then file a union grievance,” Ryan joked. “Let’s get out of here.”
…
Denver
Grant sat with Penny at her station, watching the feed from Houston, when one of the systems controllers approached them with an environmental engineer in tow. They appeared anxious.
“What’s up, fellas?” he asked expectantly.
The controller spoke up first. “Charlie, maintenance has been consulting with enviro on that cabin pressure delta. Best to let them explain,” he said, and stepped aside.