“Physical shock?”
“Exactly. Quartz is just a fancy kind of glass. Something must have bashed around back there during separation because I think one of the tubes is broken.”
“But — can you replace it?”
Ely laughed, very bitterly. “Replace it? Even if I had a spare it would be impossible in space. That tube is broken and it is going to stay broken. Those engines will just not run.”
“Something can be done. Something must be done,” Patrick insisted.
“Like what?”
“Like we take a look at the motors and see just what happened, send a complete report back to Mission Control and have them see what can be worked out.”
“You're an optimistic bastard, you know that, Patrick.” After the intensity of his work something seemed to have gone out of Ely. He was hunched, seemed smaller.
“No, I'm not. Just doing the job I was trained for. There are programs that cover a lot of what ifs. Now we've got a problem here, but we need more data on it. You're going to space walk and assess the damage. That's what we need to know next. There's only one undamaged umbilical left. Use it. Let's suit up.”
“Whoa, not so fast. I've never space walked before, and I certainly hadn't planned to do it alone for the first time. You have the experience and could save a lot of time….”
“I'm not an atomic physicist. You are. You helped design the motor, as you've often told us, so you should know what's wrong just by looking at it.” He started towards the suit locker, then turned back as a sudden thought struck him. “You're not afraid of going out there, are you?”
Ely smiled. “Yes, if you want to know, I'm frightened shitless of being out there on the end of a rubber tube and a couple of wires. I'm frightened of this whole trip and everything about it. But I'm here anyway because I wouldn't miss it for the world. So let's get suited up before I change my mind.”
Patrick wasn't sure what to say. “I'm sorry I said that. Please understand, it wasn't personal---”
“It was personal as hell, my boy, but all is forgiven. This hasn't been much of a pleasure cruise, has it? And you've been awake and working for what? Two days now?” He glanced up at the GET clock. “13:57 and still counting. And the estimate was that we would run out of space at twenty four hundred. Ten hours left. Why doesn't someone ask Mission Control if they've any revisions on that original estimate? It would be nice to know.”
“Nadya, as soon as we're all suited up, talk to them about that. Tell them Dr. Bron is going to look at the motors and they want to listen and record everything he says, then get to work on the information as soon as it comes in. Our time is running out.”
There was not a second to be wasted now. As soon as the suits were sealed and the flight cabin evacuated, Patrick opened the hatch. His cabin walk-about umbilical stretched far enough to enable him to help Ely through and feed his umbilicals after him.
“Slowly,” he said. “The one thing you can't do is rush now.”
“Rush!” Ely laughed. “It's all I can do to move.”
“There are rings all the way along. Clip onto one before you release a handhold.”
“Right. Moving now. Faster than I thought, guess the experience inside the ship in free fall helps. Here's the base of the first motor, trumpet bell looks fine, I'm moving to the next-Christ, there it is!”
“What?” Flax's voice sounded loud in Ely's ears. “We read you well, Dr. Bron. What did you find?”
“The source of our trouble. I can see what happened now. The pogoing and that aborted separation we had with the core body booster. There was plenty of misaligned thrust then, knocking about. The shroud must have been shifted because it bashed into one of the motors. There are quartz fragments floating out of it and the thrust chamber is all askew and dented. I'm close to it now. Motor four. The others look okay. Going up it now to look into the trumpet. I can see now… my God.. it's a mess. A real mess. Broken tubes, quartz everywhere… must have a massive gas leakage.”
Ely looked down at the ravaged interior of the engine, then pulled back slowly and stared at the great globe of the Earth that half filled the sky. It was infinitely more impressive when viewed from space rather than through the port. Big and close, far too close. Mission Control was saying something but he was not listening to their words. Flax's voice broke off when Ely began talking.
“That engine is not going to fire, ever again. Do you read that, Mission Control? Unless you can come up with some way to bypass it so we can fire the other four engines we've had it. End of mission. End of Prometheus. So get cracking. We need some advice.”
25
GET 13:12
It was after two in the morning and Red Square in Moscow was deserted; even the line of visitors waiting to enter Lenin's tomb had vanished for a few hours. The two armed guards stationed there looked on with little interest as a large black Moskva limousine turned into the square and accelerated towards the Kremlin. Cars of this kind arrived at all hours of the day and night for that destination. Perhaps a few more tonight than was usual, but of course there was no indication why. No public announcement of the destruction of Cottenham New Town had been made on the radio yet nor, for once, had The Voice of America been in a hurry to carry glum news to the Russian people.
Engineer Glushko led the way and easily penetrated the outer circle of functionaries and guards. Both he and Academician Moshkin who trailed after him had been here on a number of occasions. Their identification helped because anyone connected with the Prometheus Project certainly had business here tonight. Within these walls everyone knew what had happened. They also knew that Glushko was senior project engineer and the little professor with him was also involved, somehow, with the project.
Despite the fact that the two men had no reason to be in the Kremlin this morning, they progressed quite far before being brought up short. The inner circle of senior civil servants owed their seniority to intelligence, ability and suspicion, in almost equal parts. The graying man behind the desk, with ash on his lapels and the cigarette in his mouth trickling smoke into his half-shut eye, resembled all the other officials the two men had recently seen and bypassed. But this one would not be as easy. He turned their identification over and over in his hands as though looking for some fact he had missed the first time through.
“Of course, tovarichi, I appreciate your positions on the Prometheus Project, it is all detailed here in your papers I assure you. But nowhere can I find the message or the reason that has brought you here today.”
“As I told you,” Glushko said, “the Academician and I must see Comrade Polyarni at once. It is of the utmost importance.”
“I am sure it is or you would not be here. Such a rush, a few hours ago in Baikonur, a military plane, a car waiting for you at the airport. A rush indeed — but nowhere do I see a reason for this rush. What business brings you here?”
“You know about the… affair with the booster rocket?”
The official nodded gravely. “I do. A tragic accident. All of the country will mourn. Then you come in regard to this?”
“In a way, though not exactly. Look, comrade, I do not like to be misunderstood. Do you think that either I or Academician Moshkin, one of the leading astronomers in the nation, do you think that either of us came here to play silly games?”
“No! Of course not. But without stating your business it would be impossible for me to do anything to aid you. You realize my position, don't you?”