Back to the Moon-ARC

“Houston, would you repeat that?” Bill asked.

“Uh, roger that, Mercy I. The Dreamscape is in LEO right now and starting to crank up to your orbital inclination,” Houston explained.

“But they just got back from the Moon a week ago! They’re flying again already?” Tony said, completely flabbergasted.

“Roger that, Mercy I. It appears they have a short turnaround. Good thing for us. At this point we wouldn’t have a workaround for getting you back down.” Bill waited for the reality of that last statement to sink into everybody on the ship.

“Understood, Houston. From the looks of things outside, we couldn’t attempt any type of reentry even if we weren’t too heavy.” Bill thought for a bit about what they needed to do exactly.

“Captain,” Hui interjected.

“Yes, Hui, what is it?”

“If this Dreamscape has to adjust its inclination and then catch us to dock, how long will that take?” Hui asked.

“Don’t know.” Bill had no clue. He did know that on several of the times he flew the Ares 1 and the Orion capsule to the ISS, it usually took about three days to get up, change to the station inclination angle, and then chase down the station and dock. “If I had my guess, we’re talking a couple of days.”

“I see.” Hui grimaced noticeably. Bill figured that the taikonaut was ready to get out of her nasty spacesuit for good. But they could manage a couple more days.

“Houston, Mercy I.” Bill had other concerns as well. Maybe Hui did, too. “Before we do any circularization burn and before Dreamscape starts orbit matching, we should do a quick status check. We’ll probably need to minimize our O₂ usage.”

“We’ve been looking at that, Mercy I,” Houston replied. “We want you to run a quick systems diagnostic on the propellants and pressurants. That P & P PROP warning earlier needs to be fully assessed.”

“Understood, Houston. We’re already on it.” Bill turned to Tony and off-mic said, “Tony, let’s get that started.”

“On it.” Tony was already tapping at the screen. With the cabin pressurized and the immediate dangers somewhat benign, he placed his suit gloves in the box near his seat, and his helmet came off. The rest of the crew had done the same.

Bill didn’t want to bring it up, but he was pretty sure that it was starting to smell in the cabin. There was an air filter, but it hadn’t been designed for six. Bill unbuckled himself and decided to float around the cabin and check on morale. The Chinese pilot was still out, but his vitals seemed to be a little better. The stimulants, antibiotics, and other injections that Tony and Dr. Xu had administered to him seemed to be improving his condition.

Xu, on the other hand, was having a lot of pain with his leg. Bill and Hui had to order him to take a pain injection. He resisted, arguing that he needed to keep an eye on Ming. Xu then made a comment about possibly losing his leg. Bill hoped that wouldn’t be the case.

Then there was Zhi. The engineer and political officer had caused a lot of their troubles. He was in his suit with his gloves off and helmet tethered to him but was otherwise immobile. Hui had his arms duct-taped to his torso and his legs taped to his couch. She fed him and gave him water if he asked for it. But Hui was not about to let him loose. Bill agreed and let her handle it. She seemed capable of controlling the situation. There were a few times when he got loud and mouthy at first, but when he did, Hui had Xu or Tony sedate him.

“Captain Stetson.” Hui floated beside him while Bill was taking the time for a snack. Bill wasn’t sure, but he thought he was eating yogurt. He chased it with some orange juice.

“Yes, Hui?”

“I’m concerned about our oxygen and carbon-dioxide levels.” Hui frowned slightly.

“I know. Tony and Houston are running the numbers right now. CO₂ shouldn’t be a problem, though, because we’ve got plenty of extra lithium-hydride scrubber canisters.” Bill pushed over to a bin, turned and pulled the locking mechanism, and slid it out to show Hui a stash of scrubber filters. “See?”

“Good. What about oxygen?”

“Don’t know. We should know soon enough.” Bill finished off his juice with a final squeeze and then kicked back over to his station. “Tony?”

“You’d better talk to Houston, Bill.”

“Alright.” Bill buckled himself in so he wouldn’t be floating around. He had always found he could concentrate on what he was doing better that way. Then he put his headset back on. “Houston, this is Mercy I. Any word on our status and burn calculations?”

“Uh, roger that, Mercy I.” There was a brief pause. “Bill, we are optimizing the burn for the Orion as well as calculations for the Dreamscape. Your rendezvous is critical. It looks like Orion will have enough oxygen to sustain you until Dreamscape can get there, but just barely. You’re going to have to drop to a third of an atmosphere to maximize your O₂.”

“Just under five pounds per square inch shouldn’t be a problem, Houston, right? After all, that’s what we do for an hour or more before a long-term EVA.” Bill wasn’t too concerned. He had spent hours at four and half pounds per square inch atmospheric pressure during some of the EVAs he’d done on the ISS. And there were people who climbed Mount Everest and spent many days at a comparable pressure or less. They’d be weak and light-headed, but they’d be alive. Some people responded poorly to the low pressure after a while and had blood form in their lungs, but astronauts would be weeded out if they showed any such symptoms. Bill hoped the Chinese picked their crew as stringently.

“Roger that, Mercy I. All of you should be able to handle the low pressure, but it will likely be uncomfortable for you.”

“We’ll make do, Houston. We’ll make do. Now, how about those burn calculations, over?” Bill was ready to do something. Anything.

“Roger that, Houston. Thanks for the numbers.” Paul Gesling had been on an open channel through Space Excursions’ mission control and NASA’s mission control since he had