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“Well, this is fun.” Jackie sighs as she squeezes the last bit of paste out of a foil packet. The “meal”—if it can even be called one—is more depressing than anything else, though her survival instincts override her malaise.
“You really want to be out here?” Commander Palmer’s voice is tinny as it comes through the short-range radio, and Jackie reaches out to flip a switch on the control console.
“Anything’s better than being in here,” she replies. “It wouldn’t be so bad if we could at least turn on the receiver and see what’s going on down there.”
“We’ll know soon enough, Jackie.” Ted’s voice comes through, just as tinny as Commander Palmer’s. “Hang tight; we’ll be done here in fifteen or so.”
Jackie sighs and pushes herself off of the nearest wall toward a trash receptacle mounted on the opposite side of the room. She stuffs the empty foil packet inside and pushes herself back toward the control console. As per her standard operating procedures, she checks the gauges and dials and lights and readouts, comparing them to numbers she knows by heart, even on the older systems of the ISS.
After four days spent in the comparatively cramped quarters of the old station, she almost wishes she had stayed onboard the ISS-2, despite the fact that it is only a day or so away from burning up in the atmosphere. The plan to refuel the escape module and use it to get back to Earth went awry after the jury-rigged refueling lines became clogged. Commander Palmer and Ted have been on seven spacewalks to try and repair them, though each potential fix merely reveals yet another problem with the aging station.
The lack of communication from the Earth is Commander Palmer’s doing, and though Jackie respects his decision, she’s still not happy about it. His analysis of bits of the transmissions that came through to the ISS-2 are indisputable, though. Someone—or something—disrupted and took control of the ISS-2’s systems, sabotaging their natural station-keeping functions and forcing the station to begin a descent.
With the only explanation for the source of the problem being a transmission from earth, Commander Palmer has ordered that they sit tight, repair the module and get off the station—all while maintaining radio silence over long-range frequencies. All receiving equipment has been physically disconnected and only short-range, low power transmissions on specific frequencies are allowed so that Jackie can communicate with the EVA team.
No matter how badly they want to contact someone on the burning, smoldering blue rock below them, neither Jackie nor Ted want the same fate that doomed the ISS-2 to befall the ISS.
“Jackie? You daydreaming again?” Ted’s voice is loud in her ear, and Jackie snaps out of her reverie and looks out the window.
“Nope, all good here.”
“Ha. You were. Get it together, though; we’re coming in.”
“Copy. Is it fixed?”
Ted’s voice is full of optimism, though it’s tempered with experience from the previous six spacewalks. “It’s looking good from out here. We won’t know until we try to push a bit of fuel through the lines.”
“I’ll meet you at the airlock.” Jackie pushes herself off the wall and moves through the station’s tubes and sections to the main airlock. The outer door is already open, and she can see two suited figures making their way inside. Twenty minutes later, after the hatch has sealed, the airlock has pressurized and Ted and Commander Palmer have discarded the bulk of their suits, Jackie looks at Ted with a hopeful expression.
“You ready to try it again?”
“Ready as ever. You two stay at the control station. I’ll head downstairs again.” The three move to the same positions that they’ve occupied several times before, each taking a role in monitoring and controlling the complicated flow of fuel from the reserve tanks in the ISS to the escape module still sitting outside. Each time before, the procedure has failed, and they’ve had to dump the fuel in the line out into space to keep from damaging the web of pipes. Every bit of precious fuel they waste is another bit that could make the difference between getting home and starving to death in a dilapidated space station.
“Ready?” Commander Palmer shouts through the corridors of the ISS, and Ted calls back.
“Green!”
“Starting in five! Four! Three! Two! One! Mark!”
Jackie watches the gauges on a section of the control panel carefully. The needles are moving, indicating the expected pressure buildup as the fuel begins flowing through the valves and tubes, making its way through the maze toward the escape module. Ted doesn’t take his eye off of his own gauges as he talks softly to her, keeping quiet so that he can hear any shouts from Commander Palmer.
“Good to go?”
“Still green here. You?”
“Green. We’re past the block we just cleared. Still looking green.”
“Status!” Commander Palmer shouts again and Ted bellows back.
“Green!”
“Almost there! Increasing flow!” The call comes back, and the pair can hear the excitement in Commander Palmer’s voice. Jackie continues to watch the dials without blinking, silently urging them to stay in the green and not to deviate too much in either direction. She is tired. Exhausted, even. The feeling of safety associated with being in space while untold destruction spreads across the globe has grown weary. She wants to see solid ground again.
So she continues to watch the gauges, hoping and praying that this time it will work.
That this time they can finally go home.
Chapter 17
