The Mammoth Book of Space Exploration and Disasters

for everyone to wear. The smoke had left a layer of grime throughout much of the station, and the crew spent most of the next two hours wiping and cleaning every surface. Around four, when everyone gathered in base block for the upcoming comm pass, Linenger dispensed soap packets he had prepared. Everyone washed up, then changed clothes and handed their T-shirts and shorts to Linenger, who stuffed them in a bag.

At 4:16 am the comm pass began: “We can hear you well.”

“Our situation is as follows,” Korzun began. He was floating in base block with everyone else. “Everything has been normalized. The smoke has disappeared. It still smells of burning. The crew is wearing masks that prevent harmful gases from penetrating. Medical examination of the crew has been conducted: pressure, pulse, lungs. The crew’s condition is normal. The oxygen pressure is one five five. In the future we will use canisters. We will use the [second SFOG] in base block, which is in reserve. We will observe the security measures while turning it on. But maybe you have some recommendations in terms of using it. Now Vasya will speak about the condition of anti-fire devices on board, and we will answer all the questions you are interested in.”

“Okay, Valera,” the TsUP replied. “Do you think that the crew feels satisfactory?”

“Yes, their condition is good. There have been no injuries. Everybody feels good. We don’t [need to] waste any time with that. The doctor has conducted a full examination. Everything is under control.”

“Also, we would like to receive from you the exact time and location of the fire.”

“22:35 was the beginning of the fire,” Korzun explained. “The canister got on fire approximately one minute after the installation. Sasha Lazutkin controlled the activation. But the fire was so big and active that even the use of the fire extinguisher did not have practically any effect in the initial stage. It’s good it was there. We used three fire extinguishers during the fire. And two were still left prepared for the future.”

“Vasily Vasilyvich, go ahead,” the TsUP said.

“We used five fire extinguishers,” reported Tsibliyev, “out of which three were used completely, and two were prepared. Now five of them are still left in the complex. Nine oxygen masks were used.”

“Okay” the TsUP replied. “How do you estimate the possibility of another fire now?”

“Right now it’s [fine],” said Korzun. “But the reason why we asked for recommendations on canisters is because we don’t understand the reaction. The fact is, there was some uncontrolled reaction during burning. The body of the canister was burned. And even the metal was melting on the circular closing device. The temperature was that high. Now, of course, while turning it on we will use fire extinguishers that are ready And if there is any sign of a fire we will use extinguishers in the foam mode.”

“Guys, we haven’t looked at this question from this point of view,” the TsUP replied. “Up until now you don’t use canisters until a special order is given.”

“Right,” said Korzun. “Here’s what Sasha thinks. If the new canisters were stored on Earth for a long time, maybe it’s better to use old ones that were stored in conditions of weightlessness.”

“What is the serial number? We have old canisters that were stored on board a long time.”

Sasha Kaleri broke in. “No, we don’t understand the reaction. Maybe it’s some kind of redistribution of the density of the charge, or something like that. We have to look into the history of the storage.”

“Okay, we’ve got that. Did we understand you correctly that the old one, the one that was stored a long time, got on fire?”

“Well,” says Kaleri, “they were from a container that’s in [Kvant]. Behind the panels.” He read off some serial numbers.

Korzun cut in. “Guys, we also have a question on the chemistry of this substance. It didn’t burn to the end, because water was put on it. Does it mean that there are no toxins there? And what happens when you put water on it?”

One of the senior Russian doctors, Igor Goncharov, get on comm. “Guys, we will give you the precise information on toxins later. And here’s another thing. Please put on masks by all means.”

“We’re using masks,” says Korzun.

“Now dairy products are recommended. Take more milk and curds.”

“Yes, yes.”

“You can take vitaron. Two capsules.”

“Okay.”

“You can also [take] carbolen. If you have headache symptoms and so on.”

The doctors congratulated Korzun and the entire crew for a job well done and urged them to sleep. Everyone tried. No one slept soundly.

The Soyuz which had brought MIR 23 was docked at the node. During the fire, the crew of MIR 22 had been cut off from their escape craft which was docked at the Kvant.

The fire had happened while they were out of communication – Linenger thought it lasted about 14 minutes; TsUP said it was a “microfire” which had only lasted 90 seconds.

Twelve hours later they were still wearing their 3M masks.

The near miss

On 4 March the supply vessel Progress M-33 was due. The Progress had been described as an eight-ton bumblebee with two solar arrays like wings. Tsibliyev manned the TORU with the Kurs radar providing information about the Progress’s range and speed. Ground control released the Progress 7km away from Mir; at the speed it was moving it would take 15 minutes to get to Mir. Linenger was watching from Kristall. When the Progress was 5km away the camera on board should have activated but it failed to give a picture. Tsibliyev remembered:

It was the most uncomfortable [time]. I felt as if I was sitting in a car, but I couldn’t see anything from the car, and I knew there was this huge truck out there bearing down on me. You don’t know if it’s going to hit you or miss you. It’s like a torpedo, and you’re in a sub.

“Where is it?” Tsibliyev began asking the others. “Do you see it yet?”

“No,” said Lazutkin, peering out the big base block window behind the commander.

“No, nothing,” Linenger said over the intercom. There are three windows in Kristall, and he was floating between all three, scanning space for any sign of the Progress.

They waited.

“Do you see it?” Tsibliyev shouted a few moments later.

“No, I don’t see it,” Linenger breathed over the intercom. Lazutkin, floating at the base block window, shook his head. “Nothing,” he said.

Several moments passed.

“Do you see it?” Tsibliyev asked again.

“I don’t see anything,” Linenger replied, hurriedly shuttling between his portals.

Static filled the Sony monitor. Linenger could tell from the tone of Tsibliyev’s voice the Russian was growing anxious. More time went by. Somewhere out there a fully loaded spaceship was bearing down on them.

“Where is it?” Tsibliyev demanded. He turned to Lazutkin. “What should I do?”

Lazutkin had no advice.

They waited.

At the two-minute point, Tsibliyev began to sweat.

“Do you see it?” he shouted again.

“No, I don’t see it,” Linenger said. Lazutkin concurred. “Nothing,” he said.

“Find it!” Tsibliyev ordered. “Find it!”

After several more moments, during which he floated back and forth between Kristall’s three portals peering into the inky blackness of space, Linenger heard Lazutkin’s voice over the intercom. It was filled with tension.

“Jerry, get back in base block quick,” he said.

Lazutkin had spotted the Progress. Until this point Mir’s massive solar arrays had blocked his line of sight.