Perigee (32 page)

“We went back into the telemetry from when they dumped the cargo pressure,” the engineer said. “Pressure differentials started falling almost immediately. We didn’t expect the pax cabin to maintain a constant value, but it just kept going,” he said hurriedly. “That is, until Gentry sealed off the flight deck.”

Penny clasped a hand over her eyes. She was afraid that was exactly what Tom had been so cagey about. “What’s the current rate?” she asked.

“Pax cabin’s losing less than point-two psi per hour,” he replied. “They may feel their ears pop, but probably not before they get into the PREs anyway.”

“And the cockpit?” asked Grant.

“One-point-two per hour.”

Groans rose from the assembled group. Tom couldn’t stay conscious much longer at the rate the cockpit’s air was venting. It was like continually climbing in an airplane without oxygen: at some point, the human body couldn’t keep up.

“So we know the leak’s somewhere on the flight deck,” Penny said. “Sealing off the secure door isn’t perfect, but it’s obviously enough to keep the pax cabin from venting. Which is exactly what he was thinking.”

“What happens if he opens it now?” Charlie asked, suspecting the answer.

“Pressure delta’s too high,” the engineer said flatly. “All that added volume from the cabin will
increase
the venting rate logarithmically. Like trying to pour a tub full of water into a leaky bucket. Total pressure will still end up at unsustainable levels before they can get a rescue ball back to him.”

“Assuming he stays holed up on the flight deck,” Penny wondered, “what about when it finally vents?”

“That door won’t hold,” he answered. “It won’t
blow
, mind you, but the seal will certainly rupture. It’s being stressed enough now.”

“So where does that leave us for options?” Grant wondered. He was out of ideas.

“They have to finish that pax transfer and get a rescue ball back to Tom,” Penny said. “Rapidly.”

63

Houston

“ROBO, what’s your status up there?” Audrey asked the robotics manager. “I’m still worried about the torque on that manipulator arm.”

“Still go, Flight,” ROBO reported with some measure of surprise in his voice.

She then polled the extravehicular activity manager. “EVA, Flight. Are they ready for the second depress cycle?”

“Petrov reports the four passengers are buttoned up and pre-breathing O2. We’re good to go as soon as they get ‘em hooked to the tethers.”

Audrey was not about to let herself breathe easy, not yet. Not until the last person was inside that airlock and sealed up tight. For that matter, they would all be on edge until that big spaceplane had been moved well away from the station.

The direct line from Denver rang behind her console. “Houston Flight...go ahead Denver,” she answered quickly.

“This is Penny. We have another situation developing,” she said grimly and explained what had just transpired in their own control room.

Audrey exhaled in a long sigh. “Are you sure?”
Of course she is,
she thought
. Penny doesn’t say a blasted word otherwise.
“Okay, send me all the interior specs on that bird, especially the O2 system. Maybe we can help you come up with something.”

Audrey slowly placed the phone back in its cradle. She walked over to the EVA manager’s station and twirled a finger over her watch. “Tell them Flight says to
expedite
.”

…

Austral Clipper

“Tom, we know what’s going on up there,” Penny called on the company frequency. “We rewound through the ECS telemetry and confirmed the leak is somewhere in the flight deck. They believe opening the compartment would only help for a few minutes...and would eventually make it worse.”

Tom was resting inside a makeshift sleeping restraint and closed his eyes against the headache that had begun to form between his temples.
Just a little longer,
he thought, watching the rescue now underway. “That’s helpful info,” he answered sleepily. “Glad to hear maintenance and engineering are on the ball.”

“Have you identified the source?” she asked. “Is there anything onboard that could seal it?”

“Emergency egress,” he huffed. “Tried duct tape from the flyaway kit, no joy. Just made it noisier. Thinking about bubble gum next if I can find any.”

She closed her eyes in a wan smile.
Damn
. “We’ve called our buddies back in Houston, too. They’re looking for options to replenish your O2 supply from the station.”

“Won’t work,” he said. “Even if we have common fittings, it’s too much volume to refill and they’ll need that air for our people. Station’s going to have six extra bodies aboard for a month.”

“That’s
seven,
counting your sorry old hide,” she argued. “You already figured out how much they’ll need?”

“Not much else to do right now but think,” he replied. “The next crew transfer ship won’t be here for at least four weeks. And we’re doubling their O2 draw during that time.”

It was rare for Penny to be at a loss for words. He was right.

64

Austral Clipper

Ryan had just moved to reopen the main door when Simon Poole called from the Station. “Polaris, not sure what’s going on over there but Houston just directed us to ‘expedite’ the transfer.”

“Um...copy that,” Ryan said. “We’re opening the compartment now.” He shot a questioning look to Sergei. The Russian shrugged, exaggerating the gesture through his spacesuit.

Open once more to space, they held on tightly to the PREs and their precious cargo inside. Sergei had run a separate tether through their carrying handles, and made his way to the door sill as fast as he dared. Bracing against the sill, he reached out and fastened each to the transfer line and gave the assembly a firm tug for good measure. He waved to his counterpart at the airlock. “Max, all PREs are secured. You can begin the transfer.”

Without a word, Max began frantically hauling in the tethers, like pulling laundry off a clothesline ahead of an approaching storm.

…

“Ugh,” Wade grunted. “This ride sucks,” he said to no one.

As it was, absolutely no one was able to hear him. He was curled up tightly inside the first enclosure with his knees tucked to his chest. His face was covered by a visor and oxygen mask. An hour’s supply of breathable air was supposedly in the tank at his back. The ball was pressurized just enough to keep his skin and body fluids intact until they could get him into an airlock.

He cursed at a sharp bump, severely jostled when Sergei first dragged him over to the transfer line. They were all of a sudden in an awfully big hurry.

The ride had settled down a bit. He was at least floating steadily in one direction now. He fixed his eyes on the small porthole which sat just inches from his face, his only view of the outside world. The visual cues out there probably helped ward off otherwise certain vertigo…or maybe not. The view tumbled between Earth and the station. Wade closed his eyes tightly and fought a gathering queasiness in his gut.

Don’t puke,
he chanted, forcing back bile. He risked looking through the little window again for a glimpse of the station. He could see an astronaut’s helmet and the circular airlock looming ahead.
Almost there
.

…

Colin Magrath found the experience to be no better. In fact, his previously well-hidden claustrophobia now had no outlet. He fought to control his breathing, but knew hyperventilation was setting in despite his best efforts.

He wrapped his arms tightly around his legs as he gasped into the oxygen mask. He fought the urge to tear it off, having the presence of mind to know the tools to manage his air flow were within reach.

A regulator had been floating by his feet earlier. Where was it? He felt behind his head, but in his frantic search he pulled at the wrong hose. His mask unsealed briefly, alerting him with an unnerving whistle of escaping air.

Magrath began to panic. He desperately shoved the mask back in place and clawed for the regulator hose. The blasted thing was somewhere beneath his feet...he pushed his feet against the fabric interior, trying to brace himself enough to turn around.

…

Ryan was the last one hooked to the tether, and floated out of the bay as they pulled him across. He was finally able to relax, if just a bit, and allowed himself to absorb the experience. His breathing echoed inside the helmet as Earth swept past far below.

Shadows crept across the plains as night approached once more. Where were they, he wondered? It was harder than he imagined it would be to pick out landforms and continents, but then the unmistakable Himalayas appeared directly below him. Even at this height, those enormous mountains showed up in stark relief. He saw immensely deep valleys between the peaks. The air around them looked impossibly clear. Turning his head to the north, he now easily recognized China and the rest of the Pacific Rim as a zigzag ribbon of gray caught his eye.

Wow. You really can see the Great Wall.
With all the times he had flown over this region, so much of it had been spent looking after systems and worrying about passengers not taking their seats for re-entry
.
There had never been any time for sightseeing.

His field of view shifted as he felt a sharp tug at his side, rotating him almost completely around. The PRE immediately ahead of him was shaking wildly, causing everything else along the tether to undulate in sympathy.

He knew who was in each ball, and immediately realized what was happening.

Oh no
.

…

Houston

On the big screen, the collection of spacewalkers and PRE balls looked like a string of Christmas tree ornaments. Audrey thought she saw movement in the fourth ball. Soon, the entire assembly began shaking.

“EVA, Flight. What’s going on out there?”

“Stand by!” he nearly shouted, and she heard him frantically calling to their spacewalkers. Just then, she heard Poole call in to her CapCom.

“Houston, CDR. Somebody’s gone nuts out here.”

65

Outside ISS

Colin Magrath was in full panic. He pressed both feet and one hand against opposite sides of the ball and frantically grabbed at the two hoses with his free hand. Every time he thought he had the regulator, he’d instinctively relax his body, which would once again float freely, disorienting him. In his scramble to hold himself still against the inside walls, he would inevitably lose the regulator and start the whole insane process over again.

And each time, he grew angrier and more desperate. He began clawing at the small porthole, trying to get the attention of one of the astronauts out there, and kicked wildly at the walls.

The Personal Rescue Enclosures had been aboard the ISS ever since it first started hosting a permanent crew almost two decades prior. A leftover from the space shuttle program, they had been kept onboard and largely forgotten.

But even in the space station’s carefully controlled environment, the effects of age could not be stopped. In fact, the dry air contributed to mundane earthly problems like dry rot. After nearly two decades in storage, they had only now been checked out from necessity. And they had been checked out in a hurry.

Not that it would have stopped them from trying this anyway, so desperate was the situation and so limited were the alternatives. It simply
had
to work.

The other PREs were in no better condition, but they had the benefit of not being tested by frantic passengers. Magrath struggled once more to brace himself, and pressed even harder against the inside walls with his feet.

The ball tore open along its seam, and the small volume of air inside rushed into the vacuum in a flurry of snow. His skin tingled with the odd burning sensation of sudden freezing, bruising immediately as surface capillaries burst. To his credit, Magrath instinctively pressed his hands against his mask in a desperate attempt to keep it sealed to his face, despite pain like daggers plunging into his head as his eardrums blew out.

…

Sergei was the first to see the eruption of ice crystals from the burst PRE, and immediately recognized the danger. He watched in horror as someone’s exposed legs emerged, flailing in the vacuum.

Without a word he checked his own tether’s anchor on
Austral Clipper
, quickly judged the distance, and launched his body toward the open airlock. He flew past Ryan, who was reflexively grabbing for Magrath in a useless gesture, being out of arm’s reach with nothing to push against. That was good, because there would only be one shot at this.