“To tell the truth, spacewalking made me nervous as hell at first,” McCallum admitted. “I can’t shake the feeling of falling.”
“I got the same way at first-like standing on a tall bridge looking down,” Boomer said. “You get over it. Now I just enjoy the view.” Boomer climbed back into the Black Stallion, reconnected his air and communications lines, and strapped in. He maneuvered the spaceplane about a hundred yards away from Kingfisher-8. “We’re clear, Armstrong,” he radioed. “Clear to power it back up.”
“I want you farther away, Boomer,” Kai radioed. “The continuity circuits control weapon arming and safing. If it’s still malfunctioning, you could get a Trinity in the face. Prepare to head to the transfer orbit.”
“Interface with the transfer orbit won’t be for another three hours, General,” Seeker said.
“Okay. Move out to at least a mile, Boomer.”
“Roger,” Boomer replied. On intercom he said, “I think the boss is getting more and more cautious these days. He’s starting to sound like the guys in NASA.”
“Better safe than sorry,” McCallum said. “The guy didn’t get to be a one-star by taking too many chances.”
“He’s the boss. Good job out there, Jeff. Did you do an inventory of the soft-pack?”
“Yes. It’s all there.”
“Think it’ll work?”
“I’m ninety percent sure.”
“Excellent. Okay, here we go. We’ll move away, let them test it, then it’s three hours to wait until we can do the transfer orbit, so you can relax.” Boomer used the thrusters to move away from Kingfisher-8. They lost sight of it quickly against the spectacular backdrop of Earth and stars. “We show you one mile and clear, Stud One,” Seeker reported.
“I’ve lost sight of it, but I’ve still got its transponder,” Boomer said, referring to the coded radio beacon used for identification and positioning.
“Roger. We’re powering up Eight. Stand by.”
“Roger.” On intercom, Boomer said, “I used to keep a logbook of all my flights and space walks, Jeff, and I’m sorry I didn’t keep it going-it would’ve been something to show the grandkids. Make sure you write down all these flights and missions, or maybe do a journal or something so you don’t-”
And at that instant there was a tremendous flash of light off in the distance. Boomer felt several intense blows on the Black Stallion, and then everything went dark.
ARMSTRONG SPACE STATION
THAT SAME TIME
“What the hell just happened?” Kai Raydon thundered. He had almost propelled himself off his seat in surprise when the alarms activated, and he had to grasp a handhold and reapply his Velcro sneakers to stay in place. “Where’s the spaceplane? What happened, Seeker…?”
“I’ve lost datalink contact with both Stud One and Kingfisher-Eight!” Seeker replied. “Attempting to get direct sensor contact now. They should be within Thule radar contact in three minutes.”
“I want the status of all Black Stallions, Midnights, Orions, and Crew Rescue Vehicles now,” Kai ordered. “Anyone who can get a maneuvering spacecraft we can use as a rescue or tow vehicle into that orbit, I want to know about them. Communications, contact Space Command, tell them we may have had an accident, and ask them to tag any new orbital objects and send their orbital data to us so we can coordinate a rescue or recovery. Any other garages in the area?”
“Negative, sir, not for another four hours,” Seeker replied after a short search.
“As soon as Thule reports something, I want-”
“Sir, terrestrial radar contact from Kingfisher-Five,” one of the other sensor technicians interjected. “A flight of heavy aircraft, westbound, five hundred miles east of the Chinese convoy. Radar reports at least five formations, speed five hundred knots, altitude thirty-four thousand feet.”
“Identification?”
“Not yet, sir.”
“General, Midnight One is completing phase maintenance in Palmdale, but they report they can have it buttoned up and ready to launch in four hours,” Seeker said. “They’ll miss the next launch window unless they can launch in two hours.”
“Tell them to hurry, but I don’t want another accident,” Kai said. “Follow the book, but follow it quickly. Anyone else?”
“Still checking on Stud Two and Three. Four is deep in depot maintenance and won’t be available for four weeks.”
“Anyone else on a launchpad somewhere?”
“Still checking, sir.”
“I want a continuously updated status board of all manned or unmanned Orbital Maneuvering Vehicles on my monitors as soon as this incident is over,” Kai said. “I want to know every moment of every day where they are and what they’re doing.”
“Yes, sir…sir, Stud Two is loading up at Elliott Air Force Base. Weather is marginal, but they may be able to launch within the hour, and they can be in the launch window to rendezvous at the approximate orbital position of Stud One.”
“If they can get a passenger module installed in time, tell them to do it, but if the weather allows, I want them airborne with whatever they have,” Kai said. “Any visual ID on those bogeys?”
“Negative, sir. Now reporting six formations, with one of the formations containing four aircraft in trail formation.”
“Report them to Central Command and Combined Task Force-Horn of Africa -I’ve got a bad feeling about them,” Kai said. “What about Stud Two?”
“They don’t have a passenger module available, but they’re dropping their payload as fast as they can to make room in the cargo bay,” Seeker said. “ Battle Mountain can launch a tanker in twenty minutes. That’s the only one available so far.”
“It’ll have to do. Let me know when the planners have a rendezvous schedule set up.”
“Yes, sir…our sensors are out of range of that formation of planes, but the CTF-HOA AWACS plane should pick them up in an hour or so.”
“I hope those guys are ready. How’s the weather at Dreamland?”
“Reporting marginal VFR, light snow showers, forecast to remain the same for the next-”
Just then they heard, “Armstrong, this is Stud One.”
Kai’s eyes bulged as his finger jabbed the “TRANSMIT” button: “Stud One, this is Armstrong. What’s your status?”
Hunter Noble’s voice was low and strained. “No lights on in the cockpit, leopards are out, no power, no cockpit instruments, and I can’t raise McCallum,” he said. “I think Kingfisher-Eight blew up.”
“Are you hurt, Noble?”
“I don’t know,” Boomer replied, sounding as if he was drowsy. “I think I’m okay. My head must’ve cushioned the impact.”
“Sounds like he’s got a concussion, sir,” Seeker said.
“Then we’re going to have to keep him awake until Stud Two can get to him,” Kai said. On the radio he said, “We’ve got Stud Two and a tanker getting ready to launch within the hour, Boomer. If nothing vital got hit, you have enough air for a while. Hang on. We’re sending everything we have up there to get you.”
“I can’t get to Jeff,” Boomer said. “My canopy won’t open.”
“You stay in your seat and stay strapped in, Boomer, and this time it’s a damned order,” Kai said. “Save your strength and your air-you’re going to need every bit of both to assist rescuers. We’re going to bring Stud Two up and transfer you and McCallum to their cargo bay and then back here. You think of anything to help that process and let us know-otherwise, stay put.”
“Yes, sir,” Boomer said. A few moments later, he added, “I screwed up, didn’t I, General?”
“You did your job, Boomer. Your job is to fly the spaceplane, and you did it.” He took a deep breath, then said,
