Authors: Allen Charles
CHAPTER 48
Aboard Martin’s X6 Transport.
“We can store all this stuff as reaction mass but we can’t get it into the system without an EVA,” said Corcoran, “and first we need to do the math to see if jettisoning it now will give us the edge with the remaining reaction mass. Every item we jettison will change our directional vector slightly. We have redundancy totalling about ten percent of the transport mass. That is a significant effect on our vector if we do it right.”
“The transport has to be revolved so that the air lock is opposed to and in the same plane as Space City. For greatest benefit we have to push the stuff of at the center of mass and perpendicular our present vector. If we miss the center of mass we will impart a spin to the transport and have to use reaction mass to correct, so we lose the benefit.”
Martin brought up a calculation table and ordered a dimage of the transport showing center of gravity and the neutral points on the skin that would not cause rotation. The points formed a ring about two thirds of the way to the rear of the transport where the reaction mass and engines were located. “We have to take the stuff out of the air lock, down the side of the ship and pitch from that point on the ring.” He pointed at a spot in line with the air lock. “We don’t have to rotate for air lock alignment. We can trek at an angle to the pitchers mound.”
Corcoran laughed at the thought. “It’s going to be much easier if the lock is in line with less distance to drag everything. Don’t forget that as we jettison stuff the center of mass position will change so the pitchers mound has to move. That’s not a bad idea to set up something as a place holder.”
“We will have to stuff the lock full to reduce the number of cycles. We will lose too much air other wise.” said Martin.
“The air in the lock is conserved to ninety percent. We don’t lose a lot each time and we don’t really have an option. Let’s do it.”
The pair started by removing empty seats, which easily unclipped from their bases. They decided to discharge the gory mess that was breaking into globules and floating about. The on board vacuum system took care of that, with the collection bag looking like a huge Scottish haggis by the time the job was done. Each load was tied into a bundle using fabric stripped from the jettison seats. They then started at one end of the transport and worked their way up checking the cartons and bales that had been haphazardly thrown aboard at the tumultuous take off. They separated out drinking water and food supplies, enough for about three days, which is what they had calculated as their maximum survival period, after which there was no point. A very fine balance indeed.
The pile of material was strewn down the aisle to the air lock. Martin entered the lock and Corcoran passed the first bundle in and closed the lock. He went to the control cabin and initiated the rotation of the ship to the optimum position, then headed back to the lock.
“You’re good to go.” Corcoran said to Martin over the lock intercom. He watched through the view port as Martin cycled the air out of the lock and opened the outer door. He struggled with the ungainly load which had snagged on the door sill and gave Corcoran a heart palpitation when the mass suddenly free and headed for the stars with Martin attached. He watched in helpless terror as he saw his friend being carried off, the primeval emotion drowning the cool logic and training of a professional astronaut.
Then he saw Martin’s arm appear around the edge of the bundle and the rest of his body appeared as he swung himself around to the back of the pile of seats like a child on a monkey bar. Martin saw Corcoran and gave him a big grin and a quick thumbs up as he launched himself towards the air lock and grabbed the recessed handle. He had the bundle on a leash of seat fabric and waited until it had drifted to its full extent, then using the gradual extension of his arm and body, gently brought it to rest without shock. He then drew it back very slowly until he was able to grasp it and slow it down to a stop.
“OK!” He exclaimed. “Take two.”
A relieved Corcoran peered through the port. “You scared the living crap out of me man! I thought I was going to have to go fishing for you!”
Martin turned his head and gave another cheezy grin that Corcoran could just discern behind the youniform visor. He turned back to the task at hand and gave the mass a small push in the correct direction, following it holding the tether with a little slack. There was no room for error now as there were no grab handles to prevent being dragged off into space. Only the engine nacelles remained between him and eternity.
The stately procession of junk on a leash leading the astronaut like a huge dog being taken for a walk made its way to the first “pitcher’s mound” point. This was the tricky part, as Martin had no way of stopping the mass drift. He had rehearsed his moves in his mind over and over, but now it was do or die.
He released the leash and jetted himself around and in front of the oncoming bundle. He didn’t have a bat and there were no balls or strikes coming up. He had to hit a home run every time. He had time to plant an adhesive base to the pitching point. The technology was ancient and had been called “Velcro” in its heyday. Every transport carried these patches to allow skin surface repair of the non-ferrous outer wall due to meteorite or other holing damage. Now the hook and loop material proved itself again.
Martin planted his feet to which he had attached the hook part of the system onto the loop base. He was secured to the ship sufficiently to be able to tilt himself about forty five degrees forward, as far as his human ankle joints would allow, ready to receive and bring the mass to a halt once again. In a way, his previous mishap has given him confidence as he now had a feel for the forces involved and the energy he needed to apply to stop the mass.
It came at him and he grasped available projections, using his legs and arms as shock absorbers through to the hook and loop anchor. He felt the immense strain on his legs and felt the ripping of some of the loops as the hooks were dragged free in a shearing action. His left foot was lifting and almost loose. He was in trouble!
The mass stopped in equilibrium and he heaved a sigh of relief as he carefully planted his left foot back on the loop base.
“Is everything OK?” Came a tentative inquiry from Corcoran.
“Just peachy old son. Just peachy. Watch for the pitch now.”
Martin crouched down and tickled the mass overhead until he felt it was reasonably centered above him. He carefully placed his palms on solid points of the bundle and then pushed up with his whole body to impart a velocity to the mass perpendicular to the axis of the ship. It took off like a dog after a bone, the leash trailing out to the side in weightlessness. Martin also flew upwards, only arrested by the hook and loop tether looking like a dancer in an ecstatic fling. He followed the course of the mass, thinking of the dog and stick. Good thing there were no fire hydrants in space. He giggled to himself at the absurd thought.
He took a moment to rest, then squatted down. He had to do a back squat, one hand on the skin, while the other helped his leg pull away from the attachment. Once one leg was freed, he had to almost peel the other foot away to avoid bouncing away into space. He could use this pitcher’s point five more times before he had to move it back towards the nacelles. The good part was that he would gradually have security points in case of further emergency. He called for timing from his buddy. Less than five minutes had elapsed since his near disaster. He probably had around fifteen loads to jettison. Fourteen more times doing this, he thought to himself.
“Eleven down, four to go Martin.” Corcoran was elated as each cycle went without a hitch. He was monitoring the effect of the jettisoning on the relative velocity of the transport. The cumulative effect was now significant with a directional component towards space city. The final four loads would bring the shift to about half the required move. The final adjustment would have to be delivered by precious reaction mass thrust.
Martin had got each cycle down to around three minutes, gaining confidence and experience as he went along. As the pitcher’s mound was moved farther back the extra time was offset by his ability to shove the masses at greater speeds as his confidence increased. Finally, a quarter hour later he cycled back into the lock for the last time.
As he came through the inner lock he imagined all the missing passengers clapping and cheering. “Not going there.” he thought to himself. Corcoran grabbed his hand and actually gave him a hug, a very unprofessional and human showing of care. Martin just relaxed with a sigh in Corcoran’s embrace and whispered, “Got to stop meeting like this man.”
Corcoran pushed back and held Martin’s shoulders at arms length. They both burst out laughing while the invisible crowd aboard escalated their silent cheering.
“Come on, its not over yet. We’ve gotta check the new vectors and plan the best burn. Then we can pray.” said Martin as he disengaged and made his way forward. “That was five tons we just dumped.”
“And all our passengers.” added Corcoran.
CHAPTER
49
On the Fragment Surface.
“It’s so difficult to stay in place on this thing!” exclaimed Felicity. “I used to do rock climbing, but this is extreme rock climbing, being flung off in any direction with an endless drop ahead. Creepy!”
“Just make sure you’re double tethered Fel,” came from Shaw.
She paused a moment and looked over her shoulder at him. “Fel?” she said with feigned astonishment. “Oh! OK... Ger!”
They both burst out laughing at this tiny interlude that had taken their relationship to a new level.
Fuller had placed twelve of the 24 explosive charges in a compact pattern about four hundred meters from the ship, at a point calculated by Shaw and confirmed by Carver as the optimum point to remove a major rotational vector that the fuel bomb had imparted.
Hand lines had been set up by Carver and Fuller who had some free-fall experience. It had taken several painstaking hours of virtual rock climbing across the tumbling surface to hammer in pitons and attach the ropes that had come with the explosive charge kits. Someone was looking favorably on this situation. A wrong move could mean being swatted off the surface like a blowfly on a hot day. There were no second chances here.
Once the lines were established, the charges had to be transported two at a time in a back pack to ensure a soft landing at the site, then Fuller had used a portable fuel cell multi tool to drill set holes and fixed the charges into place with self channelling rock spikes. These spikes allowed some directional adjustment so all the explosive force was focused to a narrow virtual cone that would be covered with slabs of fragment rock. The gap behind each charge base plate was reinforced with small pieces of rock that would be pulverized by the recoil, but it was the initial microseconds of intense force that would slow the tumbling vector.
Shaw and Hannaford were the second shift, mining slabs of rock using a mining laser that had also fortuitously been loaded aboard for asteroid mining. They used a variation of an age old technique to shear out the blocks. Firstly they carved into the fragment surface in a two by eight grid of sixteen rectangles each a half meter by a quarter meter and to a depth of a quarter meter. These would be impossible for two people to move or lift under former Earth gravity, but here the blocks were weightless. The problem was their mass momentum and the tumbling forces. If a block got loose it would be a deadly, crushing missile, even at low speed the momentum would mash a human body into a bloody smear.
Ever the problem solver, Shaw had designed a rope rig that tethered each block by two holes lasered through opposing short edges. The holes were smooth and the angle through the edge acted as a braking force simply by tensioning the guide rope. It was going to be a long, slow process, but there was no immediate time shortage.
To shear each block, the guide rope was first threaded through and clamped to prevent the block escaping. The first block was the big test. Shaw and Fuller had made up sponge foam sealed packs that had a second ingredient of water. The edges of the packs were titanium alloy strips cannibalized from the seats and welded closed with the mining laser. Like the expanding wedges of freezing wet wood used by the Egyptian pyramid builders of four thousand years earlier, these packs would expand outwards as they froze. Jammed between the fragment itself and the cut out block, something had to give. Shaw and Hannaford hope it would not be the titanium rim.
“The pack has to go down to the bottom of the channel so we shear as close to the base as possible and we have about five seconds to place it from the insulated pack into the channel before it freezes. OK Fel?”
“Gotcha Ge...er!” Felicity exaggerated back.
“You two get serious!” came the chastising disembodied voice of Fuller over the buddy comms.
“OK Fel, on three exactly. We extract and place then pull back fast. Have you got your tether taut?”
“Tether is good. Start counting.” Felicity had tucked one foot under the rope grid for purchase and watched Shaw intently waiting for the count and his motion cues. Her hand was in the insulated bag ready to yank out the pack.
“One.. Two.. Three!” They both sprang into action, ripping a pack out of its warm slot, swinging it over in slow motion and aiming at the crack in the rock like bread into a toaster. The slot was exactly two centimeters wide and their youniform protected fingers hit that measure at their bases. They pushed the packs in and jammed their fingers after to shove the packs down as far as they could reach.
“Out! Now!” Yelled Shaw urgently. “Back up!” They scrambled to push away from the block, the reaction of the forces involved now beyond theory.
Shaw turned back only to see Felicity still in place, her foot caught between a rock ridge and the rope grid. Her effort to push off had hopelessly caught and tangled her ankle.
“Get down! Get Down Fel!” screamed Shaw as a vibration shock of the block shearing rattled the fragment. The block bounced around against the rope restraint but held in place. It was a razor sharp shard chipped off by the shearing impact that did the damage. Even carbon mono filament nano technology has its limits. The keen edged mini missile of rock travelling at bullet speed sliced through Felicity’s tensioned main tether sending her flying away from the surface in whiplash effect. The second tether was in place but that was not going to help her. She was about to be whipped around like a tennis ball on a string but she was not designed to bounce on impact. Even with the youniform and buddy, she would not survive.
“Gerald! Help me!” She drifted away, her arm outstretched towards Shaw who was frantically looking around him for anything that could be used to save her. He stopped for a second, clearing his thought and letting his incredible mathematical mind take over. He could see a solution that was a race he had to win at the risk of his own life
“What a great act!” Peepers commented. This is going to be a hard decision between the X6 act of Corcoran and Martin and these guys. If you are going to bet on this one you have the next three seconds to place your bets. Charonelle, over to you. What do think of these guys?”
Charonelle projected an image of delight, a disembodied pair of hands clapping. “Oh, Peepers, it is just too hard to call between X6 and this group. They are both fantastically entertaining and they both deserve to survive and become immortal, but I guess only one can win and the others have to die. But they don’t really die now! They go into stasis and get another chance. Ooh! I just don’t know... Hmmm... I would have to go with... Hmmm... FELICITY! Dear Felicity! What do you think Howley?”
“Okay! You know, Felicity is cute and Shaw is entertainingly different with his big brain, but their act is a little bland, flinging around on ropes and stuff, and calling each other “councillor”. Seems a bit dull to me. Now Martin and Corcoran have got some pizazz! As a professional comedian I have to work hard to get all the bored morons out there laughing...” there was a huge uproar across the network. “... calm down everyone. Calm down. See I actually got some emotive thoughts moving in you lot. That’s my job! That’s all that ever moves in us disembodied brain pods!” The grumbling died down. “So! Y’know, these two, Martin and Corcoran, are the good guys too, but they are EXCITING! Look at the blood and gore spilled in the name of justice. Look at their ingenuity using makeshift stuff like chucking out five tons of junk. I have to say that these two will be the winners.”
The network started buzzing again with bets and counter bets, odds and side wagers and the occasional psych brawl. The network police had to intervene in an unusual cerebral exposure perpetrated by an ancient who got too much ethanol stimulant when his automatic brain pod maintenance system went on the fritz. Turned out he had been a wild boy early in his bodied life during Game Series two. The police put him back in his brain pod and suspended the ethanol delivery until a certified repair coding was registered at the police nexus.
Nickle spoke up, “Get your bets in now friends. This is THE most exciting finish we have ever seen in all the World Game series. Who do YOU think is right? Charonelle or Howley?”