Rocket! An Ell Donsaii story 4 Page 10

  Behind her Ell heard Fred say, “What the hell will that do?”

  Roger answered, “She’s shaking the nose of the rocket around, like a dog trying to shake off its collar.”

  Nothing happened.

  Ell closed her eyes in despair. “OK, let’s try rocket number four that has a front thruster. We need to loosen the fit of the cap first though.”

  Fred said, “Wait! Try the rotational thrusters, maybe you can twist the cap off?”

  Ell nodded but said, “Brian, can you work on the cap for number four?” As Brian nodded and left she gave the directions for rotational thrusting to Allan. Long moments passed with no change. She sighed, “OK, plan C folks…” She paused as light blossomed across the screens and the front screen showed the cap tumbling away. “YES!!!”

  Excited shouts filled the room. Stars whirled across the cameras with the Earth appearing randomly on different screens. The rocket was tumbling wildly.

  Ell said, “Can you stabilize the rocket Allan?”

  “Working” First the spinning stopped, then the tumbling came under control. Finally, three of the side cameras showed the black of space with steadily glowing stars. One showed the Earth below. Only blackness was visible in the nose camera at this point.

  “Allan,” Ell asked, “How are we tracking on our planned trajectory?”

  “By GPS the rocket is on track. We need an additional burn to reach the station without an extended chase.”

  “OK resume burns to reach the station in the shortest possible time but stay below 70% thrust if possible?”

  “Calculating… The rocket can join the station in orbit in 50 minutes with constant burn under 70%.”

  “OK, up the thrust to 85%,” she said with a grimace, worrying that the motor would burn out. “Proceed with that flight plan and put me in contact with Ed Candela at NASA.”

  Their earlier search for a NASA contact had come up with Candela. He was supposed to be a “can do” kind of guy. Ell hadn’t wanted to talk to NASA until she was reasonably sure they had something to offer. She hoped they weren’t too late.

  Ell turned to the group, “Is number four ready to go?”

  “Almost, Brian’s milling the cap out a thousandth to make it easier to blow off. Do you want to launch it as soon as it’s ready?”

  “No. If something goes wrong with this flight we’ll want to implement fixes before we launch. But let’s put it on the launching frame and do our test burns. Same with number three for a slow launch.”

  Ell wandered over to stare out the window at their “launch pad” across the parking lot.

  In her ear she heard, “Hello, this is Mr. Candela’s assistant.”

  “Hi, this is Ell Donsaii. We believe we have a means to resupply the Space Station. May I describe our plans to Mr. Candela?”

  “You and every one else I’m afraid. We must have a million callers, each with their own sure fire solution. Mr. Candela is in a NASA brainstorming session to attempt to put together a rescue at the present. I’m sorry to say that I cannot interrupt him.”

  Oh crap! Ell thought, this is going to be just as hard as I had feared. On the other hand it seemed unlikely that she would have gained any traction with people like Candela before she even knew that they could launch to orbit. “Is there anyone else I could talk to about our plans?”

  “Sure, you can tell me.”

  Double crap! It seemed unlikely in the extreme that Candela’s assistant intended to do anything but “listen politely.” However, Ell said, “OK. We’ve launched a rocket to orbit that is presently closing on the Station. We would like to be able to communicate with the people on the Station so that we can tell them of its impending arrival. They will especially need guidance from us on how to make use of it.”

  There was a long pause, “Umm, sure. Where did you launch this ‘rocket’ from?” From some of the irregular pauses in her response, Ell thought that the woman was struggling not to laugh out loud.

  “North Carolina.”

  Another pause, “And what’s it carrying?”

  “Devices called ‘transfer ports.’”

  “And they would help the astronauts how?”

  “They’ll be able to deliver oxygen as well as water for the oxygen generators.”

  Ell could practically hear the woman’s eyes rolling in her head as she said, “Sure, sure, I’ll let Mr. Candela know as soon as I see him.”

  After she was disconnected Ell mused a moment then said, “Allan, see if you can connect me with the President Teller’s Science Adviser Chip Horton.” Then she walked back over to the group watching the screens. There wasn’t much to see from the rocket’s cameras so Allan had displayed a graphic of the rocket’s trajectory and position relative to the Station. “Hey group, I’m running into trouble finding anyone at NASA that’ll talk to me. Candela’s aide shot me down. Do any of you know someone that might know someone else who could get us connected over there? We’re looking for second and third order connections now. I know we went over this before but we need more ideas. Braun, how about you? We need to be able to talk to the astronauts so we can tell them that the rocket is coming and how to use it.”

  Many of the group got a far away look as they considered their contacts. Braun said, “I don’t know anyone that would be able to put us in contact, but my friend Ed Janssen works in Candela’s division. I’ll touch base with him and see what he says.”

  Allan spoke in Ell’s ear, “Mr. Horton is in meetings at the White House regarding the Space Station and his AI refuses a connection. He has instructed his AI not to allow ‘any interruptions.’”

  “Leave a message with Horton’s AI that I have a solution for the Space Station problem and see if you can find an underling who’ll talk to me.” To the group watching the monitors she said, “OK, the rest of you who don’t know any person that might help us speak to the astronauts, come brain storm with me over here.”

  She walked over to one of the big stainless tables that was mostly empty and turned to the members of her team who gathered with her. “Let’s brainstorm how we can communicate with the Station even if they don’t have radio access. The first thing I’ve thought of is that we should have written a message on the outside of the rocket that they could read through the Station windows. It shouldn’t be hard to have the rocket knock on the window, we just need to pulse the attitude thrusters with it next to the window. But how do we convince them to open the airlock and let it in? We didn’t even put a radio on it! As soon as we break up we should start working on launching another rocket, this time with a radio on board.”

  Brian said, “Rocket 3 is ready. Vivian, if I open it up, can you install a radio? Someone could try to find out what frequency the capsules use to communicate with the Station?”

  “I can do that.” Braun said.

  Brian said, “Viv, remember that whatever we put inside has to be less than 1 7/8” diameter.” He thumped his forehead. “No it doesn’t. I can insert a section in the rocket that has a bigger diameter if I have to.” Brian, Viv and Braun turned to go.

  Ell said, “Thanks guys.” She turned to the rest of the group. “Any other ideas?”

  Sheila tentatively put up her hand, “Is the thruster control good enough that the rocket could actually write something out?”

  Ell frowned, “Seems like it would be hard to recognize that it was writing if it wasn’t leaving a trail. Let’s keep that as an ‘if nothing else works.’”

  Roger said, “We have those LEDs on it for ‘running lights,’ maybe we could turn them on and off in Morse code.”

  Ell raised her eyebrows, “Good idea, can you look up the Morse code and figure out if we can actually turn the LEDs on and off?”

  Allan said, “I have control of the lights and can use them to relay Morse code messages.”

  Ell said, “Roger, stay here with us. My AI says he can do Morse code with the lights already. Anyone have more ideas?”

  ***

  Float
ing in the middle of one of the Space Station’s modules Dave Slager felt just a tiny bit drunk. He suspected that it was because the oxygen was starting to get low. A mildly oxygen deprived state made people feel and act drunk. When he’d checked the atmosphere a little while ago the oxygen had been a tiny bit lower than standard and he assumed it was slowly getting worse.

  He pondered the situation pleasantly. This drunken mood was better than the depressive funk he’d been in before. In fact he kind of liked the frame of mind he was in now. He stretched. I hope that low oxygen has the same effect on the others. Maybe it will help them through this countdown to our deaths? I wonder if I should re-record that depressing message I did earlier for the family? He heard a tap from over near the observation window. It repeated itself. Lazily he turned his gaze that way. Huh, maybe the oxygen is really low? He giggled. Cause I’m seeing someone’s model rocket outside the Station’s observation window! Hah! It bumped the window again making another tapping sound.

  Emil Taussan pulled himself into the module, “Hey, I’m going to try to use the CRV, even with the damaged rocket nozzle. You wan’ go wi’ me?”

  Slager turned toward him, “I thought the nozzle was destroyed?”

  “Yeah,” Another tap sounded and Taussan turned toward the window. He stared that way a moment, then turned back to Slager. “It’s got a big hole in the side of the nozzle and a crack in the chamber. But maybe it would generate enough thrust to get us low enough for atmospheric braking?” At another tap he turned toward the window again. Turning back, he shrugged, “What do we have to lose?”

  Slager didn’t point out that he’d already used the oxygen from the CRV’s tanks to extend the Station’s supply. Instead he said, “Do you see a model rocket in the window? Or something else?”

  Taussan turned back to Slager, “I see a rocket too, about this long,” he separated his hands a couple of feet, “with blinking lights.” He grinned, “What do you see?”

  ***

  Ell and the others watched in horror. On the screen showing the view from the rocket’s side camera they could clearly see two of the astronauts inside the module. They looked drunk!

  “Have they been drinking?” Ell asked in dismay.

  “Maybe? They’re about to die for God’s sake. Don’t judge.”

  Braun said, “If the oxygen concentration is getting low it could be making them act drunk.”

  “Oh, my God. What if we can’t get them to open the airlock in time?”

  Ell said, “Sheila, please ask Brian and Vivian how much longer until they can launch the rocket with the radio?”

  “If they’re already low on oxygen, it might not get there in time even if it took off now.”

  Feeling desperate, Ell said, “Allan, make the rocket tap the window harder.”

  ***

  Slager’s scalp prickled, “Tha’s… tha’s what I see too. Let’s take some extra Oh-two and see if it’s still there?” He reached out for the masks used to pre-breathe oxygen for EVAs. They were still hooked into the 100% source though it must be low because it fed the main supply. Slager and Taussan hung at an angle to one another in the module, breathing a little extra oxygen and watching the rocket tap their window. As they sobered up they recognized small puffs of gas were pushing the rocket to make it tap the window.

  “Wow, it’s really banging on the window now!” Slager said. “Hey, the lights are blinking fast-slow, think it could be Morse code?”

  “Morse code?” Taussan’s brows drew together. “Why not use the radio?” Taussan looked toward the comm center, confirming that it was still on.

  To his AI Slager said, “Jimmy? Analyze those blinking lights for Morse code, can you read it?” He held the rocket centered in his field of view so the AI’s video cameras would get a good reading.

  In his ear Jimmy said, “Morse code translates the flashing as, ‘…you, understand, wave, if, you, understand, wave, if, you, understand, wave, if, you …’”

  Slager waved.

  Jimmy said, “thank, you, this, rocket, can, deliver, oxygen, and, water, if, you, will, open, the, airlock, and, let, it, in, thank, you, this, rocket, can, deliver…”

  Slager turned to Taussan and said, “Open the outer door to the airlock. That thing says it can deliver oxygen.”

  Taussan looked querulously at Slager, “Are you crazy?”

  Slager shrugged and repeated Taussan’s earlier question, “What do we have to lose?”

  Taussan shrugged, pursing his lips, “Only a few minutes of oxygen.” He started pulling himself toward the lock.

  Slager watched the rocket puff its way out of view of the observation window in the direction of the airlock, then he followed Emil.

  ***

  Ell watched the two men pull themselves out of the module in the direction of the airlock. She directed Allan to move the rocket over to the airlock where they all waited anxiously to see if the door would open. A few minutes later a lusty cheer arose from the group when a slight puff of gas preceded the slow opening of the airlock door.

  Ell pumped her fist and told Allan to fly the rocket into the opening.

  ***

  Slager pulled himself up next to Taussan to watch through the window as Emil opened the outer door of the airlock. He was feeling drunk again now that they were away from the oxygen masks. Before the door had completely opened, their friendly little rocket sauntered through with a few judicious puffs of gas. Emil closed the airlock door behind it. The rocket promptly put its nose against a surface and began visibly blowing streams of gas out of all the little thrusters it had been maneuvering with. It wavered a bit before the thrust from the different nozzles balanced out. A torrent of gas poured out of the big nozzle at the base, pushing the nose firmly against the bulkhead.

  Slager turned to look wide eyed at Taussan. If this was a hallucination it was a weird one, he thought to himself.

  Taussan said wonderingly, “I haven’ op’n the valve but the pressure in the lock is risin’!”

  Slager turned to gaze back through the window. As he stared at the rocket in the airlock chamber his AI, Jimmy said, “inner, airlock, door, this, rocket, is, releasing, pure, oxygen, when, pressure, is, equalized, you, may, open, inner, airlock, door, this, rocket…”

  Slager turned back to Taussan, “My AI says tha’ tha’ toy rocket ish fillin’ the lock with oxygen.” Slager could feel his eyebrows crawling up his forehead.

  Taussan said, “The preshure ish above station normal! Sensors shay itsh 100% 0.” He shrugged and said again, “Wha’ do we have to loosh?” He cracked open the inner airlock door and gas puffed into the station through it. Cold gas. Both of them backed away from the door. Taussan opened the door wider and a minute later the rocket came through the door with a few judicious puffs, then resumed blowing cold gas out of multiple nozzles.

  They stared at the rocket a few moments. Slager realized he was feeling more sober. To his AI he said, “Jimmy, ask all crew to come down to the main module.”

  In his ear Jimmy said, “communication, working, on, better, communication, working, on, better, communication, working …”

  ***

  Ell was out back of D5R at the big LOX (Liquid Oxygen) tank. She’d closed the valve to the pipe where their ports were located. “I can’t believe I didn’t think harder about communications!” she said exasperatedly to Brian as she pulled out the port module for one of the thrusters. Holding it up she said, “Allan, energize this port.” Then she moved it closer to her lips and said, “Hello? Can you hear me?” If she was right, the sound of her voice would go in through the port and out through the thruster nozzle on the side of the rocket. It wouldn’t be loud, but hopefully the astronauts would be able to hear her. She repeated herself.

  ***

  Anya Stolchya pulled herself into the main module. She hoped Slager hadn’t called them down there for some morbid final speech. The low oxygen concentration had made her clumsy drunk and given her a splitting headache. She wondered i
f Slager had intentionally dropped the oxygen concentration to make everyone a little drunk. Maybe feeling drunk would be good for the rest of the crew but Anya was a maudlin drunk and had been sobbing uncontrollably. Besides, she wanted to meet her maker sober. Dying drunk seemed the rankest cowardice to her. She wiped her eyes with the back of a hand before leaping clumsily for the opening.

  As she pulled herself into the module, she noticed with some surprise that her headache had faded. Briefly, she wondered why. Hmm, I don’t feel drunk anymore! She looked around. The rest of the Space Station crew had reached the main module before she did. Dave Slager hung in the middle of the group holding a two foot long tube that looked suspiciously like a large model rocket. It even had some areas of blackened soot on it as if it had been launched.

  Anya narrowed her eyes. Hissing came from the device as if it was leaking gas. Slager was staring at it like a mother might at a new-born babe. She wondered if it might be some kind of oxygen tank Slager’d found? If so, could it be responsible for her headache going away? Well, she thought dismally, if that were the case, it wasn’t big enough to last them very long.

  A small tinny voice came from the tube. “Hello? Can you hear me?” It sounded like a little girl! The voice repeated itself.

  Slager’s eyes widened. After the first repeat he leaned toward the device and said, “Yes. We hear you. Who is this?”

  “Great! Sir, this is Ell Donsaii. Can you unscrew the screws down the sides of the rocket? There are screws down two sides and if you remove them you should be able to open it up… I hope to God you have a screwdriver up there?”

  What the hell? Ell Donsaii the gymnast? Or someone else? Slager wondered to himself. Wasn’t there a physics paper by someone with a name like that that caused quite a stir? Nonetheless he said, “We have screwdrivers.” He looked to Taussan who unzipped a pouch on his coverall and pulled out a multi-tip screwdriver. Slager showed him the ordinary Phillips head screws inset down one side of the rocket and Taussan put on the correct tip. Slager positioned the rocket between his knees, careful not to cover the little ports that were still gushing freezing cold oxygen. He began unscrewing the screws. “We’re unscrewing it,” he said.