The Sky Calls To Us Part 3
Orbital thrusters fired and sped Hermes on a trajectory that would intersect the International Space Station's path, calculated for least fuel spent and optimum docking vector. Once they had reached the calculated speed required, the engines cut off and weightlessness resumed. For the moment Hermes was a rather large bullet aimed at the station and if she didn't slow on approach, she would slam into and through the large structure. Bill found liked to imagine all orbital mechanics in similar depictions; explosions and bullets and the raw destructive power inherent in the rockets' systems appealed to the part of Bill that refused to grow up, insisting on remaining a 10 year old boy forever.
The ISS loomed in the forward windows of Hermes' cockpit. Bill radioed mission control. "Canaveral, Hermes. ISS in visual range, preparing for docking."
"Roger Hermes. Slow your speed to --" a burst of static cut off mission control's response.
"Say again Canaveral."
The reply came as more bursts of static, roughly in the cadence of the radio operator's speaking voice. Bill was certain he could have understood the message if he could concentrate on it, focus all of his attention on deciphering the static, and if he could hear the message repeat several times. Instead he simply spoke back. "We're getting some interference up here, Canaveral. Unable to make out your message. Say again."
Eileen cast a worried glance at her copilot, then took up the manual controls. "Decreasing speed for approach." Hermes slowed with a lurch as the deceleration rockets pulsed, still on course for docking.
The radio crackled with static again as a bright light flashed outside the cabin. "What the hell was that?" Bill asked, peering out the forward window.
"Not sure. My instruments are dead. No response from the engines," she demonstrated by flipping some switches that should normally have fired the deceleration rockets again.
"We may have bigger problems. Wasn't the ISS just ahead?"
Eileen looked out the window into empty space. She looked to her left, out the side window, and saw the Earth hanging below her, right where it should be. "What the..."
"Canaveral, Hermes. Do you read? Are you tracking us?"
Silence from the radio.
Bill changed the radio's frequency to call the space station instead. "ISS, Hermes. Do you read?"
More silence. "Try Luna-1?"
Bill shrugged, "Might as well," and keyed in the frequency. "Luna-1, Hermes. Do you read?"
"How did you get this frequency?"
"Hello? Who is this?"
"This is a private frequency reserved for StarBridge corporate use. Who are you?"
"StarBridge?" Bill let the confusion show through his voice. "This is the Hermes shuttlecraft, en route to the International Space Station."
The radio operator on the other end paused for a moment. "We have no record of an International Space Station."
"No record?!" Eileen grabbed at her headset through her helmet. "I suppose you don't know anything about a lunar base, either."
"Officially?" the young woman on the radio answered, "No, we do not."
"Unofficially?"
"You are not cleared for that information."
"Cleared nothing!" Eileen checked her watch. "In about five minutes we'll be in position to see your damn lunar base!"
"Eileen! Evade starboard!" Bill shouted, pointing out the window.
Eileen's hands flipped the appropriate switches and pulled the control stick before she looked out the window to see what she was evading. The she remembered the controls weren't responding. "Shit!"
Hermes was on a collision course with a massive structure. Eileen's instincts told her the structure was on the same orbital path as the ISS, lagging four minutes behind where the ISS would have been.
"Alright StarBridge. You don't know about an International Space Station, but what about another space station?"
"You are not cleared for that information."
"Like hell!" Eileen was furious with frustration. "In about two minutes we're going to slam right into it, so don't tell me I can't know about it." Bill slipped out of his restraining harness and opened up an access panel on the console, gently pulling out bundled wires with one hand while running a scanner over them with the other. "Now are you going to give me permission to dock and catch me, or do I have to crash through the hull? I've got a vacuum suit. Does your crew?"
Another moment of painful silence passed. "Permission to dock granted," the girl's voice was flat, dejected. She knew she'd been defeated in this argument.
"Got it!" Bill held a singed and frayed wire between his thumb and index finger. "Two seconds and you'll have flight control." He let the offending wire slip from his grasp and drift lazily to the back of the cabin. "We'll have to open the airlock manually now, but I've rewired the control systems."
"Thank you. Strap in." Eileen looked at her instrument panel again, then at the station growing larger each moment as they coasted. "We'll have to do this manually. See if you can find the docking hatch on that thing." She gritted her teeth and tightened her grip on the stick, slowing their approach and trying to steer toward what she hoped was a hatch.
The ISS loomed in the forward windows of Hermes' cockpit. Bill radioed mission control. "Canaveral, Hermes. ISS in visual range, preparing for docking."
"Roger Hermes. Slow your speed to --" a burst of static cut off mission control's response.
"Say again Canaveral."
The reply came as more bursts of static, roughly in the cadence of the radio operator's speaking voice. Bill was certain he could have understood the message if he could concentrate on it, focus all of his attention on deciphering the static, and if he could hear the message repeat several times. Instead he simply spoke back. "We're getting some interference up here, Canaveral. Unable to make out your message. Say again."
Eileen cast a worried glance at her copilot, then took up the manual controls. "Decreasing speed for approach." Hermes slowed with a lurch as the deceleration rockets pulsed, still on course for docking.
The radio crackled with static again as a bright light flashed outside the cabin. "What the hell was that?" Bill asked, peering out the forward window.
"Not sure. My instruments are dead. No response from the engines," she demonstrated by flipping some switches that should normally have fired the deceleration rockets again.
"We may have bigger problems. Wasn't the ISS just ahead?"
Eileen looked out the window into empty space. She looked to her left, out the side window, and saw the Earth hanging below her, right where it should be. "What the..."
"Canaveral, Hermes. Do you read? Are you tracking us?"
Silence from the radio.
Bill changed the radio's frequency to call the space station instead. "ISS, Hermes. Do you read?"
More silence. "Try Luna-1?"
Bill shrugged, "Might as well," and keyed in the frequency. "Luna-1, Hermes. Do you read?"
"How did you get this frequency?"
"Hello? Who is this?"
"This is a private frequency reserved for StarBridge corporate use. Who are you?"
"StarBridge?" Bill let the confusion show through his voice. "This is the Hermes shuttlecraft, en route to the International Space Station."
The radio operator on the other end paused for a moment. "We have no record of an International Space Station."
"No record?!" Eileen grabbed at her headset through her helmet. "I suppose you don't know anything about a lunar base, either."
"Officially?" the young woman on the radio answered, "No, we do not."
"Unofficially?"
"You are not cleared for that information."
"Cleared nothing!" Eileen checked her watch. "In about five minutes we'll be in position to see your damn lunar base!"
"Eileen! Evade starboard!" Bill shouted, pointing out the window.
Eileen's hands flipped the appropriate switches and pulled the control stick before she looked out the window to see what she was evading. The she remembered the controls weren't responding. "Shit!"
Hermes was on a collision course with a massive structure. Eileen's instincts told her the structure was on the same orbital path as the ISS, lagging four minutes behind where the ISS would have been.
"Alright StarBridge. You don't know about an International Space Station, but what about another space station?"
"You are not cleared for that information."
"Like hell!" Eileen was furious with frustration. "In about two minutes we're going to slam right into it, so don't tell me I can't know about it." Bill slipped out of his restraining harness and opened up an access panel on the console, gently pulling out bundled wires with one hand while running a scanner over them with the other. "Now are you going to give me permission to dock and catch me, or do I have to crash through the hull? I've got a vacuum suit. Does your crew?"
Another moment of painful silence passed. "Permission to dock granted," the girl's voice was flat, dejected. She knew she'd been defeated in this argument.
"Got it!" Bill held a singed and frayed wire between his thumb and index finger. "Two seconds and you'll have flight control." He let the offending wire slip from his grasp and drift lazily to the back of the cabin. "We'll have to open the airlock manually now, but I've rewired the control systems."
"Thank you. Strap in." Eileen looked at her instrument panel again, then at the station growing larger each moment as they coasted. "We'll have to do this manually. See if you can find the docking hatch on that thing." She gritted her teeth and tightened her grip on the stick, slowing their approach and trying to steer toward what she hoped was a hatch.