Years earlier, General Leonov, the first man to “walk” in space, had advised his cosmonauts, “Think ten times before moving a finger, and twenty times before moving a hand,” when working in space.
Still, Stoner felt eager as a puppy. Impatiently he waited and watched the two Salyut cosmonauts at work, while Federenko went back into the orbital module of their spacecraft for a squeeze bulb of hot tea and enough room to stretch his aching limbs. Stoner sat alone in the cramped command module, surrounded by the Soyuz’s instruments, his eyes on the crewmen working outside.
Finally the digital clock on the control panel showed it was time for him to suit up. A radio command from ground control confirmed the time.
Federenko came back into the command module and took the pilot’s seat as Stoner unstrapped and wormed his way weightlessly into the orbital module.
The orbital module was a globular, womb-shaped section that served as a workroom, bunkhouse and air lock. Stoner slowly pulled on his pressure suit, carefully testing each zipper and seal, forcing himself to be deliberate and patient. The module was a clutter of bunks, lockers, cabinets and two airtight hatches: one that connected with the command module, the other that opened onto vacuum.
Federenko came in to help him into the backpack of oxygen tanks and maneuvering jets. Finally Stoner lowered the fishbowl helmet over his head, sealed it to the metal collar of his suit. Federenko connected the hoses from the oxygen tanks to his helmet. Together they tested the suit’s radio, oxygen pressure, heater. Stoner flexed all the joints, then nodded to Federenko and slid the visor down over his face. The cosmonaut ducked back through the hatch into the command module, and closed the massive airtight hatch behind him.
Stoner was alone now in the metal womb. Reaching out with his gloved hand, he opened the safety latch and then pressed the button that started the air pumps. Through his helmet he heard the machinery stir to life, sucking the air out of the orbital module, into storage tanks.
The telltale panel light went from green to amber, and finally to red. Stoner slowly opened the outer hatch, then drifted out of the metal womb head first.
And gasped.
He had remembered all those months on the ground how beautiful it was in space, but the memory was a mental image, not the visceral passion. Now he saw it again, felt it in his guts again, and all the breath gushed out of him.
Before his eyes the ponderous bulk of Earth curved, glittering blue oceans streaked with dazzling white clouds, huge and overwhelmingly lovely. Turning slowly, Stoner saw the depths of infinity, utterly black but flecked with so many stars that it looked like diamond dust sprinkled across black velvet.
O Lord, I love the beauty of Thy house, and the place where Thy glory dwells.
The words welled up in him as he turned slowly, effortlessly, surveying the heavens. And then he saw the squat, bulky spacecraft sections that hung a few dozen meters from his Soyuz. Beyond them the Salyut space station rode calmly through the sky, its panels of solar cells looking vaguely like a gull’s bent wings, while the Earth passed majestically behind it like a slowly unreeling backdrop.
Work to do.
Using the maneuvering unit in his backpack, Stoner jetted over to the equipment and supply vessels. They had been joined to each other by Federenko and linked by rigid steel cables to the Soyuz by the Salyut cosmonauts. Stoner’s task was to check all the connections, make the final inspection. They had saved the least demanding job for him.
He moved like a man in a dream, slowly floating, each motion a long, deliberate, weightless glide. He didn’t fight the weightlessness, he enjoyed it. Better than skiing. Like floating out in the ocean, riding the heaving swells out beyond the breakers. Go with the flow, Stoner reminded himself. Enjoy it while you can.
He chatted with Federenko over the suit radio as he inspected one by one the connections that linked the Soyuz with its new equipment and supply modules. They checked out perfectly; the cosmonauts had done their work well. The Soyuz was ready to move outward toward its rendezvous with the alien.
And Stoner realized that he felt reluctant, rebellious, unwilling to leave the freedom of space and return to the metal confines of the spacecraft.
“Shtoner,” he heard Federenko’s voice in his earphones.
“Yes.”
“Checkout is complete. Return to air lock.”
He gazed at the Earth, huge and glowing and heart-achingly beautiful. Turning, he looked out into the depths of starry space. He knew what Odysseus heard when the sirens sang their beckoning call to him.
“Shtoner! Can you hear?”
With an effort he wrenched his gaze back to their tiny, lumpy spacecraft. “Yes, yes, I hear you. I’m coming back in.”
But even as he ducked into the air lock and swung its hatch shut, his eyes stayed fixed on the stars until the heavy metal hatch cut off all view of them.
Jo sat at the computer console and watched the numbers and symbols flashing across the glowing green background of its readout screen.
The Russian computer technicians tolerated her at the mission control center. They had given her a console to sit at where she could watch the progress of the mission, one of the hundreds of computer consoles that stretched in long rows across the vast, buzzing room. Up at the front of the control center were huge picture screens and an electronic map that showed where the various spacecraft—the Soyuz, the Salyut orbital station and the alien ship—were in relation to the Earth and the Moon.
The technical staff tolerated an American woman in the center, but the security authorities were clearly on guard. Jo was escorted by armed, uniformed policemen to and from the command center. Markov sat just behind her, nervously smoking cigarettes and tugging at his beard. Often his wife would come in and sit beside him. She also wore some kind of uniform, although Jo didn’t know which branch of the service she was in and didn’t really care.
The controls at her console were for readout only. Jo was here as an observer, and the Russian authorities had made it clear that she was not a participant in the mission. Even the way they said “observer” made it obvious that the word was semantically equivalent to “spy” in their lexicon.
She could watch, she could observe, but she could not help.
She looked around the huge control complex. The tension of the first few hours had worn away. There was a quiet, almost drowsy air to the center. Even Markov seemed more relaxed, in the seat behind hers. The Soyuz had passed the Moon’s orbit nearly forty-eight hours ago. Stoner and Federenko were farther from Earth than anyone had ever flown before.
Trailing behind them, she saw on the huge electronic map, was the unmanned tanker that had been launched from the United States. It was moving on a different track, one that would converge with the Soyuz a few hours before Stoner and Federenko came within sight of the alien.
They’ll be busy then, Jo knew. And so will we.
In another twenty hours the control center would be crackling with activity: first overseeing the link-up with the unmanned tanker, and then the actual rendezvous with the alien itself.
But now all was quiet. Half the consoles were unoccupied, and the technicians who were at their posts seemed at ease, almost nonchalant. Even the few who were speaking into their lip microphones or fingering the switches and dials of their consoles had no appearance of urgency about them.
It’s going well, Jo thought. He’s safe. And it’s too late to sabotage the mission. All the boosters have worked perfectly, all the vehicles are on their courses. Keith is safe, nearly a million miles from Earth.
Stoner scratched drowsily at his stubbly beard. It was starting to itch, and he longed for a hot bath. Federenko, just as grubby and tired-looking, sat calmly in his seat at Stoner’s left, checking the mission schedule. The command module smelled of sweat and body heat.