Ely snorted disdainfully and the others nodded. “When we get back I want to talk to some people about the engineering on this project.”
“So do we all, Ely, but let's save that for later. We are under time pressure now. Mission Control say there's nothing more they can do to effect separation.”
“Which means they leave it up to us,” Nadya said.
“Exactly.”
“But what can we do?” Coretta asked.
“Space walk,” Patrick told her. “EVA, Extra Vehicular Activity. Someone puts on a suit and gets out there and takes a look and sees if that damn thing can be knocked loose from us. Let's hope the umbilicals give us enough leeway to get near it.”
“Can't we unstow an Astronaut Maneuvering Unit — an AMU?” Ely asked.
“Negative. This was not planned for at this stage. We all have pressure suits with air connections in the cabin. There are two sets of umbilicals, air, cables and phone line, that can be hooked up in the flight cabin. These were supposed to be used when we get to orbit to go back and open the outer hatch to get at the AMUs that will enable us to maneuver without umbilicals. They will be used to assemble the generator, but no one thought they might be needed before that.”
“Bad planning,” Ely said.
“I don't think so. They're bulky enough to almost fill this compartment. The planning wasn't at fault — this time.”
“Can't we get to them now?” Coretta asked.
“We can, but it's a time-consuming job, two, three hours at least to unseal and power up, then maybe as much to reseat. We don't have that much time. So someone goes out on the umbilicals to see what can be done.”
“It is nice to get back to work,” Colonel Kuznekov said, pushing himself towards the upper lockers. “I'll suit up at once.”
“Just a minute, Colonel, it hasn't been decided…”
“Circumstances decide, my boy.” He methodically stripped off his boiler suit and pushed it aside. “You've had some time space walking, I know that from the records. Nadya, while an experienced pilot, has never been out of her ship, is that right, Nadya?” She nodded in agreement.
“So there you are. For the others, this is their first flight into space. Nadya mans the controls, you will handle my umbilicals, Patrick, and I shall make this mess right. Of course I am not attempting to give the Commander orders. An old army man like me, never! I simply remind you that I have had over a thousand hours in a suit in space working on my cryonic projects. The only other choice, my captain, is for you to go and for me to watch, which seems a foolish risk for the commander of a vessel when a grizzled old space dog can do the trick. Oh-chin ogay?”
Patrick began to protest, then laughed. “How come you never became a general, Kuznekov?”
“It was offered, I refused. All desk work with high rank, which is not my sort of thing at all. Shall we go?”
“Right.”
With many hands helping, the suiting went faster than usual. The hanging spaghetti loops of the umbilicals were taken from their lockers and pushed through into the flight cabin.
“We'll seal the hatch between this compartment and the flight cabin since you'll still be pressurized,” Patrick said.
“Would we be of any help if we suited up?” Ely asked.
“Negative, sorry. We'll be crowded as it is. Nadya will be at the controls and will fill you in on the intercom. Here we go.”
“Good luck, Patrick,” Coretta said. “And you too, Colonel.” On sudden impulse she pulled herself to Kuznekov, they were floating with their heads almost touching, and kissed him on the forehead.
“Wonderful!” the Colonel said. “No warrior going into battle ever had a finer salute.”
But once in the flight cabin they were more serious. The hatch was sealed and they put on their helmets, twisting and locking them, into place. Nadya was connected to the air supply next to the pilot's seat, Patrick and the Colonel's umbilicals plugged to their suits and into the air attachments near the door.
“Are we ready?” Patrick asked.
“Oh-chin ogay.”
He moved slowly in the clumsy suit, twisting the valve in the center of the exit door. It opened and the atmosphere in the cabin began hissing out into space.
“Pressure dropped enough,” Nadya said.
“Roger. Unsealing the door.”
With most of the air gone the door could be opened safely without the pressure of the cabin atmosphere against it. It swung open silently. At this the atmospheric pressure dropped suddenly and the air became hazy with fog that vanished moments later as the last of the air puffed out into the vacuum of space. Framed in the opening was the sable darkness and un-flickering points of light of the stars of the endless interstellar night. The Colonel floated headfirst through the opening.
“There should be handholds all the way along,” Patrick said.
“No problem, I feel I've been doing this all my life.”
The Colonel was indeed a skilled space walker, his solid, clumsy-appearing form moving light as a feather. Patrick paid out the coils of the umbilicals as he floated aft, just touching the handholds with his fingers so that he moved smoothly along.
“Coming to the end,” Patrick said, looking at the short length remaining.
“Just about a meter more. Let me have all the slack you have. That's it.”
The Colonel had clipped his safety line to the last rung of the handhold and was leaning far out. The umbilicals were now bar straight and taut, pressed hard against the lip of the hatch where they went out. Farther and farther the Colonel reached — until his finger seized the stern of Prometheus, beyond him was the dark angled bulk of the still-attached core body.
“What do you see?” Patrick asked.
“Very little, black as Hades in there, in the shadow. Let me get my torch out.” He undipped his flashlight and poked it over the end. The circle of illumination slid over the nose of the core body, the beam itself invisible in the vacuum of space, then moved out of sight.
“Aha!”
“What is it?”
“Our culprit, all right. One of the connecting rods, a bit twisted but still holding. All the plungers around it are actuated and pushing to separate. The only problem being that the harder they push the stronger the connecting rod is wedged into its anchor to hold us together. But easily enough remedied, I think.”
“How?”
“A little sizzling with the oxyacetylene torch will cut that rod in two in a second. Then the rest of the mechanism will do its job and drive this great weight off of our backs and we will be free to go on our way. Except for one little problem.”
They waited, hushed, the astronauts and the three in the sealed compartment hearing every word spoken over the intercom, and even the breathing of those in the pressure suits.
“Problem? What?”
“At the present moment I don't see how we can reach the rod. It's on the other side and the umbilicals won't stretch that far.”
17
GET 03:19 — COTTENHAM NEW TOWN
Sir Richard Lonsdale did not like lunches that went on so long, but he had no choice. It was late and they were still around the table in the executives' restaurant, still wreathed in a fog of cigar smoke and the perfume of fine brandy. The Swiss seemed happy, coats open and perspiring freely.