Lem…
…moved smooth and steady when the new load arrived in orbit, performing his tasks automatically. He had been doing this for every load and it was getting routine. His mind wandered without him noticing, as wandering minds do. It felt natural as all was going so well, “Like clockwork,” he lazily mumbled aloud to himself.
In the back of his head, he noticed his normal sharp attention to detail was getting slack. For some reason, this did not bother him.
Working on automatic, he began the receiving inspection required before unstrapping the stacks. He switched on his suit lights again as did the others while they and the platform moved into the shadow of the Earth. He swiped his spring-loaded carabiner line to the deck fitting in preparation to move to the opposite side of the stack and remotely released the other line.
ComCom asked, “Lem, are you feeling alright? Your suit reports an elevated heartbeat, and your oxygen mix looks off. Do you have a malfunction?” the voice paused then came back on, “Lem, check your line security. It shows red.”
Lem felt tired and a little dizzy. He did not notice the connector had not fastened all the way and popped itself loose as he turned to the next load of parts. He did not pay conscious attention to the quiet warning buzzer in his left ear representing the line on that side of his suit, though he abstractly noted subconsciously, it was a nuisance, as was the voice in his ear.
“Man, I am worn,” he mumbled into his cheek mike. “Are you guys as worn as I am? Should we take a break or, Whew-” He took a deep breath, “I, I’m, uh-” Silence.
The chin lights which represented the individual astronaut’s condition were quite detailed and near the base of their vision. The three lights representing their teammates were simpler, mounted near the inside upper limit of their vision. They were a single light that glowed a simple green, a yellow, or a red for each of them.
The one representing Lem turned yellow and flickered red weakly twice.
With little warning, the light representing Lem flashed to a solid red on everyone’s crew monitor. Lem hung loose on his line which automatically retracted into his suit, as he floated away from the deck, the new parts still fastened securely. The little bit of bump as the line hit the stops on his suit started an excruciatingly slow tumble.
“Boss!” Shouted Francie. All team members looked over at Lem who hung loosely, turning slowly as he drifted from the deck.
“Lem!” Terrified, Kim screamed into her helmet and launched herself toward her best friend and fiancé, releasing both lines in the process.
Lem hung loose as he floated away from the platform. His arms and legs slowly straightened as the suit took its natural pressurized shape. He did not respond to the voices shouting at him in his helmet. The shouts were to him, about him, and around him as the others voiced their concern and panic.
He reacted to none of it. The sounds drifted to the back of his mind and disappeared. Lem wanted to yawn but instead did nothing and passed slowly into unconsciousness.
Kim had launched herself to where he was, but he had since floated off to one side.
“Where are you going?” Sally shouted at Kim, ignoring the obvious.
Kim used her maneuvering jets to adjust. They weren’t what one would expect a system termed “jet-powered” to be, as they gently pushed the wearer in whatever direction they wanted to go, slowly and safely. She applied as much power as possible and realigned her flight, Lem did not seem far away, though Lem was well beyond the reach of the lines.
She would not quite collide, but she would come close. Very close. Kim readied herself for the impact or grab, whichever fate offered. There was no sensation of movement, so it appeared Lem’s limp form floated casually towards her while, in fact, she was jetting further away from the base.
As they came to their closest point of crossing paths, Kim reached out missing his boot by mere inches. Floating past him on a separate trajectory, she had been going as fast as possible with the jets supplementing her initial push.
Now, she moved steadily away from the deck and Lem.
“Lem! Lem!” She shouted to no avail as he passed.
Kim maneuvered back around and aligned herself in the right direction, with Lem continuing to float further from the deck. They were both still in the shadows, but she managed to keep him in sight.
All this action took mere seconds but to Kim, every second seemed an eternity as she went after Lem. She concentrated, keeping him in her sight. Arresting her speed and direction, she reoriented and saw she was drawing closer to him.
The light in her fuel gauge showed a yellow warning. She was reminded of the same thing when ComCom announced, “Your fuel is low, Kim. Use caution maneuvering.” They too were following her progress with anticipation.
Kim glided to Lem’s limp form. “Gotcha,” she said as she grasped herself into him around the suit as much as she could. She felt insecure as suits were bulky and not made for hugging.
She felt for the pressure fitting on his suit. It was where it was supposed to be, matching the location on her own. The mate for his fitting to the immediate right on her suit, and she grasped it, pulled out the short hose, and securely attached it to Lem’s incoming air fitting. Now, she shared her air with Lem, automatically switching off his rebreather.
While doing this, they continued to float further away.
Using her maneuvering jets, she turned them around, so she could send both of them back to the deck. As the platform remained in the shadow of the Earth at night, and they had been working for the last dozen or so minutes in the shade, it remained invisible. She searched space around her but saw nothing. “Where are you guys?” Panic began to slip into her voice.
“Over here! Over here! I’m flashing my light!” Francine shouted. The crew all began flashing their lights. They could not see her either as Kim was in the shadow of the night Earth, but they knew the direction in which she had been drifting.
Kim did not see the light. She continued to drift around agonizingly slow. “I don’t see you!” She moaned into her helmet.
Kim continued to turn slowly. She spotted Francie’s light at the same time the crew saw hers when she rotated towards them. They all sent a shout of recognition as she came into sight. She had moved twice as far from the platform as she thought she had.
“Caution. Fuel critical.” Announced her suit into her ear. Everyone on the line, including ComCom, heard and understood. She may not have enough fuel to get back. Kim aimed at the target and used a bit of her fuel to start moving in that direction.
ComCom said quietly, “You’re almost out of fuel, Kim. Let your inertia move you to the deck. You may need to prevent a destructive impact or adjust your trajectory.” Kim understood but used the last of her fuel anyway to speed her approach.
She needed to save Lem.
ComCom warned the other crewmembers, “None of you have enough fuel to reach them. This will take the time it takes.”
Kim wished she could use Lem’s propulsion, but the controls were operated from inside the suit. “We’re going to have to fix that,” she thought, “if I get out of this alive.”
“The hell it will,” said Francie to her cheek mike. “I’m not losing the best boss I ever had. Sally! Are you attached to the deck?”
“Yes, Francie. What are you going to do?”
“Dave attach your left line to Sally’s right line and maneuver over to me.” He moved at a faster pace using his jets, but movement still seemed interminable. He arrived at Francie’s side. “Here hook your other line to my left line.” As soon as she saw the connector snap shut, she launched herself off Dave. He was pushed in the opposite direction but reoriented himself and extended both of his lines as much as possible as Sally had done.
Tethered only to Dave, Francie drifted towards Kim and Lem. Using what she was sure was the last of her remaining fuel and momentum, she maneuvered to intercept Kim. They passed by a mere inches away on different trajectories. As she passed, Francie reached out for Kim’s line, already trailing her, and extended four feet. It brushed across Francie’s right hand. She managed to snare it with her left little finger. It held.
She only had a coughing spurt of fuel left but it was enough to cover the few inches needed to secure a better hold. Francie held tight, pulling the load towards her. She pulled slowly until her full hand grasped the line. She attached the two lines though they continued to move away from the deck but, with the lines attached, they formed a long line of space suits, all tethered to each other and stretched to their limit.
Francie felt a bump as the last line hit the stops, all but Kim’s fully extended.
“I’m retracting, Francie,” Kim announced.
“Got it,” Francie answered and continued, “Dave, take up the slack. Keep it steady. There’s a lot more mass on these lines now.”
Dave complied. She felt a tug as she began to move towards the deck. Kim and Francie met when they had been drawn halfway to Dave. “Sally, give me a slow retraction,” Francie instructed her teammate.
They were moving at a good clip towards the deck still festooned with parts they had not yet removed. There was hardly room on top of the stack to fit the two bulky space-suited figures, but Kim grabbed a loose end of the strap stretched across the parts as they drifted by and drew her and Lem back and onto the stack.
Francie saw Kim clinging to fittings protruding on the edge of the components.
“You got this? Kim? You got this?” Francie insisted on an answer.
“Yes, I’ve got him, Francie.”
Francie pushed off, disconnecting her line from Kim as she pushed. Swinging around to the bottom of the platform she connected to the anchor. Still attached to Sally and Dave she asked, “Dave, Sally, are you clear of the deck?”
“Yes, we’re both clear,” Dave replied.
“I need to hear it from you, Sally.”
“I’m clear Francie.”
Upon confirmation, Francie said. “ComCom, send the next load.”
She heard Kim say, “Thanks, Francie, Thanks aw…” She, Lem, and the remaining load were gone.
The next load shipped three hours in the future but, using the time-jump would appear in fifteen seconds. Switching places with the parts, Kim and Lem would arrive seconds after the load left, the thirty-second delay built into the safety protocols used with the deck. Though transit would be instant for Kim and Lem, arrival at the base would be in nearly three hours giving the receiving end plenty of time to prepare the necessary medical equipment and people to help Lem.
Three hours later, Lem and Kim appeared at headquarters, clinging to the top of the load. Now, influenced by gravity, they slid off their tenuous perch to the hard deck. The decks were quite hard being steel underneath a thin layer of sticky-backed faux-wood vinyl to facilitate a magnetic connection with the deck.
Inside the protection of her suit, Kim barely felt the landing as much as she felt the shock of the return of gravity.
She lay on her back, Lem on top of her. People came running pulling Lem off, disconnecting their suits in the process.
“Lem! Lem!” She shouted into her suit grappling with the fittings securing her helmet to the suit as she struggled to sit, her back trying to inch up against the supplies in an unresponsive suit. As she watched, people removed Lem’s helmet and applied an oxygen mask. Someone unidentified snapped the rear connector on her helmet and the helmet released. She quickly removed it. “Is he okay?” She shouted in Lem’s direction. She dreaded the answer.
“He’s alive,” a voice came from the crowd surrounding Lem.
“How is he? Is he okay?”
“We won’t know until we get him to medical.” The medical facility was two stories down on the ground floor. Lem was lifted onto a gurney and whisked away as Kim struggled to remove her suit which severely restricted her movement in full gravity.
On the deck, the rest of the crew waited. They took the Return Posture as indicated by their training. They had to wait for the last load, delivered to pick up Lem and Kim, to be returned to the base so they could prepare for their own departure.
“Sitting” inches above the deck, legs straight out in front of them, waiting. Back-to-back, the three remaining crew members were attached with both lines to the center eyehook. Lines completely retracted and tight. They were supposed to sit relaxed, with each of their gloved hands on the heavily suited thigh of the crew member next to them.
This done, because the pressurized suits tended to push their arms straight and because the sudden return of weight required the most comfortable and supported position. Missing two teammates, their arms drifted unsupported.
There was no work as the assembly process only worked effectively and safely as a team. Besides, they wanted to be ready to transfer upon request. They were all alone, and they weren’t going anywhere right away. They tried to calm their worry by using the breathing techniques taught them in class.
Only the stars kept them company.
With nothing to do but think and worry, Francie tried to distract everyone with light comments. It did not work. They remained anxious about Lem and Kim. There would be no news until, at the earliest, three hours in the future.
The chance to use the emergency return on the current Porter deck was out of the question as they did not know what, or who could be on the deck at the moment of transfer. The transfer was accomplished by switching places with the other deck. They could not chance accidentally sending an unprepared, unsuited person, in their place.
They knew how soon a body, or anybody at all, would inevitably drift away from the deck. Struggling, trying to “swim,” or grasping for a handhold out of reach would be futile. Nothing would be effective.
An untrained person’s first move would be to reach for the deck with their foot. Contact would push them inevitably on a trajectory that would quickly send them outside the eight-foot cube over which the deck had influence.
Almost instantly blood capillaries near the surface would rupture and mere seconds later large veins would freeze. Extremities would cease receiving blood. Muscles would no longer respond.
Any air in the lungs would be immediately expelled and no amount of silent gasping would result in a whisper of relief. The stomach would violently empty itself. The heart would stop in seconds with no air to refresh the energy of its toil and the head, radiating heat like a radiator, would freeze from the outside in.
The person in the body would be long dead before the body finished preparing itself for its eternal drift through the cosmos.
Nobody was up for killing anybody today.
So, they sat. Eventually, they talked.
They talked to each other on the suit-to-suit band for a few minutes discussing their situation and sending good vibes to Lem and Kim. Finally, they talked to ComCom. Communications had not been established since Lem and Kim’s departure.
“ComCom, what’s going on down there?” Francie asked. The answer was delayed.
Elizabeth came on, “They’re not due to arrive at this end for a couple of hours so we’re working on coordinating the arrival. We will get…” an indistinct voice could be heard in the background and the connection cut off. After a few seconds, “Standby, Ivy Station.”
Silence-
Then “Ivy Station? Copy?”
“ComCom, yes. Copy. We, uh, we-”
“Don’t worry team, until now we weren’t sure how many of you were already on the way. Sorry. It was chaos for a few minutes, but we’re back. Ivy Station, how many of you remain on-station?”
“Three to return, ComCom.”
“Lem and Kim are on the way, correct?”
“Affirmative, ComCom. Lem and Kim.”
“Thank you, Ivy Station. We should be able to settle down and get you all back home in five minutes. We’re not sure yet, but we think you’ll be arriving at around seven o’clock our time. Regardless we’ll pick you up in five. Is everyone on deck and secured?”
“Yes, ComCom. We’re ready when you are.”
They left five minutes later.
They arrived after eight that night.
