of it seems to be floating right into our path. A lot of that debris is insulation from their oxygen and water tanks.”
As his eyes stared at the star field and the growing daylight side of the Moon, he lowered the small package of soft drink and hit the VOX communicator at his side.
“Hang on. We have a large chunk of something coming right at us!” he called out, just as the radar threat receiver sounded throughout both craft.
Ryan’s words had no sooner left his mouth than part of the European Astral ’s docking collar slammed into the upper portion of the command module, missing the large pilot’s window on Altair by a mere foot. The impact sent a shock wave through both spacecraft and sent every crew member scrambling for their environmental equipment in case they had been holed.
“We ran over something in the road,” one of the Green Berets said as he strapped himself in the crew chamber below the upper deck of Altair.
“And it was a big something too,” Will said. He and Sarah put on helmets and connected their environmental suits to the individual computer stations. The connection would automatically update the suits’ GPS computers and their oxygen status, as well as the current disposition of all mapping and telemetry connections.
In the command module, Kendal had cleared most of the crew and placed everyone in the Altair in case Falcon 1 lost her air or was in fire danger mode
He hit his own VOX switch and studied the battery situation. Then he examined the eight LED readouts concerning oxygen status and the water tanks housed near the main engine of the command module. In relief he saw that there was no leakage showing on the sensitive gauges.
“Houston, Falcon 1, copy?” Kendal said into the small mike attached to his overalls. He half turned when the LEM pilot held out his ENVI suit and helmet. Kendal shook his head and pointed to the LED readouts on the main console. The needles were holding steady. Pressure readings, a major concern, were at their normal PSI.
“Houston, Falcon 1, do you copy?”
As he released the transmit switch, he looked at the Navy pilot and nodded. The young pilot and five-year astronaut lowered his hand to the own voice communication switch on his belt.
“Houston, Falcon 1 -we have sustained an external collision with an unknown object. Do you copy, over?”
Every crew member waited for the answer from the Johnson Space Center, some staring at nothing, others closing their eyes and hoping the dead air was just a fluke in the COMM system.
“Get on the CCT and see if there’s any damage to the ST5-3-10 high-gain antenna,” Kendal said, knowing they were in for it if what he thought happened had indeed happened. He looked at the gain numbers on the COMM console and saw that the needle was flat-lined at zero transmit, zero receiving.
The lieutenant brought the closed circuit exterior cameras online and found the camera that showed the large high-gain antenna.
“Jesus, skipper,” the pilot said, examining the empty frame.
“Damn thing was torn completely off its mountings,” Kendal said. The main cable that attached the interior to the antenna was stretched to its limit. “Adjust angle and see if we’re lucky enough to be dragging it in our wake.”
The camera angle adjusted, and with relief they saw the ST5-3-10 dish dangling straight out from the taut cable.
“Well, we have to go get that damn thing and repair it,” the colonel said. He hissed through his teeth.
“I volunteer for the walk,” Ryan said, popping his head into the command module.
Kendal turned and saw the eager lander pilot. He shook his head. “Negative, Ryan. You don’t have the space walk training.”
Ryan floated the rest of the way into the large cabin.
“Excuse me, Colonel, but do you?”
“The lieutenant and I have two hundred simulations on record, and that’s two hundred more than you.”
Ryan continued to push.
“Look, I’m sitting here like a bump on a log. I have nothing to do other than being a backup to the lieutenant. And, frankly speaking, if something happens to him, we’re shit out of luck. We need him in here to land this damn thing. I need to go out there instead of him.”
“Sorry, Ryan. I’ll make sure nothing happens to Lieutenant Dugan. After all the times you crashed the Altair in simulations, believe me, I’ll watch him closely. You stand down, son, but thanks for the offer. You stay in here and assist Maggio with the command module. Contact Houston as soon as we have a signal-clear?”
Ryan looked at the module pilot and then at Dugan, the lander pilot. Both men shook their heads at the obvious eagerness of the untrained and dangerous man they had in Ryan.
“Yes, sir, stay with the womenfolk,” Jason said sarcastically.
“Good,” Kendal said. “Now, get your environmental suit on, you’ll be reeling us out of the module’s hatch.”
Ryan moved to comply and as he did he saw the dirty look from Sarah as he entered the lowest deck of the Altair.
“Quit volunteering for things, Jason. Jack will be pissed. You remember what he said about volunteering?”
“Always let someone else do the volunteering, then you can be the smart one when you pull their asses out of the fire,” Jason and Will said simultaneously in the most mundane voices they could use.
“Right,” Sarah said. She had to smile at the dull voices her two friends used when imitating Jack’s dry sense of humor.
Ryan started pulling on his helmet with the assistance of several of the Army personnel. He looked at Will and Sarah as they locked it into place.
“Don’t worry, guys. Mr. Redundancy will be safe and sound inside the command module while others take the risk.”
As they watched Ryan float back through the umbilical tunnel connecting Altair and Falcon 1, Sarah couldn’t help but think about the bad luck the ship was having and about how Jack was faring back on Earth, which now seemed light-years away.
“Jason worries me sometimes,” Will said, frowning through his glass faceplate.
“You guys are all the same,” said an angry Sarah McIntire.
Ryan took the copilot’s seat to monitor the space walk. The two men were tethered by separate leads in case one fouled. The space packs they each wore were controlled by hydrogen jets in case something went wrong with the tethers. Ryan and Maggio watched through the camera system while the rest of the crew stood by belowdecks on Altair, waiting for word from outside the spacecraft. They watched on the CCT system as Dugan and Kendal made their way back along Falcon toward the damaged high-gain antenna.
As the spacecraft was traveling in excess of 34,000 miles per hour, the view was disorienting because they looked as if they were standing still. Kendal made sure the tool belt he was carrying was strapped tightly to his suit and gently pushed off from the hatch. Dugan soon followed. The glare of the sun shone brightly off the white- painted aluminum of Falcon 1 as they eased themselves hand over hand toward the mount that once held the antenna array. As they came up to the severely damaged mount, Kendal held fast as Dugan started to slip his thickly gloved hand around the cable that was the only anchor for the drifting dish. As he attempted to grab hold, Kendal waved him off.
“Secure yourself to the spacecraft,” the colonel said over the radio.
“Roger, sorry,” Dugan said. He slipped his hook through the base of the mount. When he did, Kendal waved for him to take hold of the cable.
Dugan expected resistance, as if he were pulling something in from deep water. Instead, he was rewarded with the dish actually sliding nicely toward the mount. Kendal studied the panel that housed the recessed radar system. He saw a large dent on the cover and he shook his head inside the large helmet.
“Here’s the problem with the radar and why we got such a late collision warning,” he said as he started to
