Red Horizon: The Truth of Discovery (Discovery Series Book 2) Page 2

  “Polo One, this is Houston.” Marge’s voice came over the air, calm and businesslike as usual. “We show the same. Request EVA to inspect damage to the engines and vector motors.”

  “Roger, Houston, Sanchez to EVA. Can we get an update on our trajectory?” Julie said.

  Sanchez nodded, monitoring the coms, and started to suit up in preparation for going extravehicular. “On my way,” he said.

  “Affirmative, but first we’re going to have you exercise several components. Standby,” Marge said.

  “Standing by,” Jules said, and then she released her push-to-talk mike and spoke to Sanchez. “Watch yourself out there. No telling what’s been hit and either dangling or floating around the ship.”

  “Roger that, Jules,” Sanchez said, pulling his helmet over his head and preparing to exit the cabin. “I’ll be ready when you are.”

  Jules nodded and started to put her gear on as well. She only had to lock her gloves into place, and then her helmet, to do what she tried to avoid at first, a complete depressurization of the ship so that Sanchez could exit the cockpit cabin into the crew cabin. Working with gloves on would be a pain, but she’d repressurize as soon as he closed the door again. “Vickie, go ahead and unstrap, get the patch kit out, and have Dave show you where the breach is located. Jose will be there in a second.”

  “Roger that,” Vickie said.

  When Julie had finished suiting up and got her green light on her HUD, or heads-up display, she hit the depressurize button that was only used in emergencies, such as now, and watched as one of her working displays showed the pressure drop quickly to zero. “Clear, Sanchez.”

  “On my way,” Jose said, opening the cockpit door and floating through it to the other side. His body was wanting to slow its spin, which matched that of the ship, and he had to brace himself on various handholds to keep his position. When he got to the other side, he closed the door and used his voice-activated mike. “Clear and locked.”

  “Roger, Sanchez. Clear and cockpit door locked,” Jules said, switching the switch again, which allowed the stored nitrogen and oxygen to flow back into the cockpit cabin. When equilibrium with something Earth-like was achieved, the light below the switch went green, and Julie took off her gloves and helmet.

  She watched as Sanchez exited the rear of the main cabin, heading into the small airlock, while both Dave and Vickie were braced against one side of the ship, patching the micro hole in their hull. “How’s it going back there?” Julie asked, feeling less than useful for the moment. A commander not in command of her ship, which spun lazily around its horizontal center.

  “Almost done with the patch,” Dave came back. “We do have enough atmo to repressurize, don’t we?”

  “Affirmative. We were able to evac sixty percent, not including our reserves. We’ll be fine on that front,” Jules answered him on the open channel. Houston was listening.

  “What about the spinning?” Renee asked, still seated in her seat and holding her helmeted head in her gloved hands.

  Jake didn’t look much better. “Yeah, a little stability back here would be a good thing.”

  “Houston is working on it,” Jules said.

  “I’m going EVA,” Sanchez’s voice came over the coms.

  “Roger, Jose. I don’t have a visual on you. The camera on that side is out, as well as the door status. Let me know when you’ve got a lock on it.”

  There was a few seconds’ pause. “I’m out. External door locked. I have two tethers in place. Will advise.”

  “Polo One, this is Houston.”

  “Go, Houston,” Julie answered.

  “Polo, have Pilot Sanchez manually check vector motor number two.”

  “Roger, Houston. Sanchez to check motor two. You copy, Jose?” Julie said.

  “Affirmative, heading to motor two,” he said.

  “Polo, we’re going to patch you through to engineering.”

  “Roger,” Julie said.

  Tom McClain’s voice came across the open system. “Jose, you read me?”

  “Loud and clear,” Jose said, optimism in his voice.

  “Good, now listen up. We only have accurate status on half your equipment up there, so we’ll have to do some visuals. Can you confirm the motor two vector at forty-five degrees?”

  “Yes, it’s in the default position,” Jose said.

  “All right, use the manual port just above it to crank it outward until it’s at ninety degrees. That will be as far as it will go, anyway. Let us know when you are done.”

  “Roger,” Jose said. A full minute passed before he responded again. “Confirm, motor two now at full extension, ninety degrees. Jesus, you should see the damage out here.”

  “Stay calm, son. What are you looking at?” Tom asked.

  “The entire port side aft of the cockpit cabin looks like something exploded here. Probably one of the compressed nitrogen tanks,” Sanchez said.

  “Roger, Sanchez. We’re going to try to use the motor you oriented to stabilize the ship’s roll. You’ll need to get into the airlock and secure yourself.”

  “On my way,” Sanchez said.

  “Polo, this is Houston. Get your crew secured, and we’re going to have you fire only rocket motor number two. Do you copy?”

  “Affirmative,” Jules said over the open mike. “You heard the plan. Everyone strap in.”

  “We’ve found a second hole in the floor on the far side,” Dave said. “How much time do we have?”

  “Strap in now,” Jules ordered. “We’ll get to that as soon as we stop the roll.

  The crew strapped in, and Sanchez reported all clear as he secured himself in the airlock. “We still offline on the propellant flow?” he asked.

  Affirm,” Jules answered.

  Tom spoke. “We have valves along the flow lines. You should have some fuel to make the burn. It can’t be a sustained one, but we only need a couple of seconds to execute it and finish stabilizing your ship.”

  Jules understood what NASA’s chief engineer was indicating. Even though a tank could be breached, empty or useless, there were one-way valves that held fuel in the transfer lines that would burn for a short period of time until they emptied as well. “Will Max handle the burn?” she asked, almost knowing the answer.

  “Yes,” Marge said. “We can’t control the motors from down here, so you’ll have to enable.”

  “Roger,” Jules said. “Enabling in three seconds.” The clock ticked by quickly, and Jules hit the execute button from the instruction set loaded into their super computer. In several bursts more powerful than the latent thrusters, the single motor burned and then shut off in succession three times quickly. Finally, the Earth and the star field in front of her settled into place.

  “Polo, this is Houston. We’re showing your roll at a negative, negligible.” This meant that the ship was still rolling in the counterclockwise position, but at a rate that would take hours to even notice. It had, in essence, been stabilized for their purposes.

  “Hell yeah,” Jake said, letting all protocol drop in the process.

  “Nice job, Jose,” Vickie said.

  “One problem down, how many to go?” Jules said half under her breath but audible nonetheless.

  “Going EVA again,” Sanchez came over the mike. “Taking the arc welder with me this time per Houston.”

  “Wait one,” Jules ordered. “Jake, grab a camera and go with Jose. Let’s get a visual on our belly.”

  “Heat shield won’t do a damn thing unless we change trajectory,” Sanchez said.

  “What’s wrong with our trajectory?” Renee’s voice came over the system high pitched and tense.

  “Houston is working on it. We went off course when we got hit back there, and most likely the nitrogen tanks exploded, pushing us a few degrees off course. Nothing to worry about,” Jules practically lied, worried herself.

  There was an eerie silence when Jake broke in. “Fine, I’m going EVA, then, with Jose. I’ll shoot the underside,
and we can see what we’re looking at.”

  “Polo, this is Houston. Roger your second EVA. Have Pilot Sanchez go to the engines at the rear with the welder per engineering. We need a visual on those as well. They are showing offline right now,” Marge’s voice said.

  “Roger, engines,” Sanchez said.

  Several minutes passed, and Jules worked her monitors, trying to get readings on various systems and dreading any bad news from her EVA crewmember.

  “Transmitting now,” Jake said.

  Jules watched as the portable camera sent its high-definition feed to their receptor and onto her monitor. She sighed in relief, as the bottom of their ship looked completely intact and unaffected. “Can you work your way to port side and zoom in just aft of our cabin?” she asked.

  “Moving that way now,” Jake said.

  The sounds of Tom talking to Jose as they worked on the three engines came over the com system. Jules tried to follow along, but wasn’t focused as she waited to see what Jose had reported earlier. In seconds, Jake had secured himself and zoomed the camera along the side where aluminum, titanium, insulating foil, and wires were protruding from a gaping hole in the ship.

  “That looks bad,” Jake said. “You getting a view of this, Houston?”

  “Roger, Polo One, we have visual. Standby,” Marge said.

  “We’re not going to be able to enter the atmosphere with this, are we?” Jake asked, panning with his camera and taking in the entire side of the ship.

  “Doubtful,” Jules answered, dreading another outcry from Renee. Fortunately, the woman remained silent.

  “Second hole back here is patched. Not seeing a third,” Dave said.

  “You want to try to pressurize?” Vickie asked.

  “Affirmative,” Jules said. “Houston, we’re going to try to repressurize the main cabin now.”

  “Roger, Polo One.”

  “Door seals are showing green and locked. Initiating now,” Jules said, flipping a switch.

  The compressed air vented into the main cabin silently, and Jules watched as the PSI gauge climbed to its preset of seven point five pounds per square inch and then held.

  “All green,” Dave said.

  “Polo, this is Houston. If you have a good seal, we need to check the wiring in the aft compartment to the engine bay.”

  There was only one electrical engineer onboard, and she spoke. “Roger, Houston. This is Engineer Anderson. I’ll head that way.”

  “Roger, Vickie. You’ll be checking both the main bus and the secondary behind aft engineering compartment four.” Marge was talking as if she was there.

  “Four it is,” Vickie said, taking off her helmet and gloves and attaching them to a nearby holding pole so they wouldn’t float away.

  Jules was watching on her monitor. “Take your gear with you,” she said.

  Vickie didn’t argue. “Roger.” She took her helmet and put it back on and clipped her gloves to the chest buckle that was attached around her utility webbing, and then continued down a shaft at the bottom of the ship toward the engines.

  “What’s the plan, Houston?” Jules asked, finally returning her attention to the immense world growing larger in front of her. She could see Africa clearly.

  There was a longer than normal pause, but the professional in her mandated that she wait patiently for a reply. Finally, she heard Marge’s voice come across the com system. “Polo, this is Houston . . . We are not recommending reentry at this time. No other solution available. We’ll see what we can do to achieve an orbital entry.”

  Julie was stunned. This was the most indirect way of saying they were screwed. She looked at the telemetry on her navigation console and saw that the trajectory hadn’t changed. They were headed into Earth’s atmosphere at too steep an angle. They would all die. “Houston, this is Polo One. What about using maximum thrusters to starboard to correct our heading?”

  Marge didn’t hesitate. It was obvious that NASA engineers on the ground had already worked the problem. “Negative, Polo One. Thrusters only provide eleven percent of the course correction needed.”

  Just great, so we slam into South America instead of the South Pacific, Jules thought to herself. She knew that they’d burn up first before impacting anything on the ground, but it was the thought that mattered. “What about using the vector motors? Can we reroute the propellant to them?”

  “Negative, the forward motor is gone on the port side, and the fuel lines are showing negative pressure. We’ve tried to release the valves from up here, but the lines are empty,” Marge said. Her next words made the entire conversation a moot point. “Also vector motors at your delta-vee would only provide sixty-eight percent correction.”

  South Atlantic it would be, then . . . Jules found her thoughts to be strange and out of sorts for the circumstances. Perhaps this is how imminent death affected the brain? “Would they have worked an hour ago?”

  Why am I asking such a stupid question? Jules instantly regretted the remark, but Marge softened it for her. “Unknown,” she said simply.

  Of course it’s known, Jules thought to herself. The longer the distance of the isosceles triangle, the less amount of energy would be necessary for the ship to move along the base. Literally, a small amount of force would have little effect short term, but over a longer distance, it could change the trajectory considerably. Right now they lacked the time and distance to allow the smaller force to move the ship to a safe path.

  That would leave only one power source strong enough to change their fatal trajectory, their engines. “Houston, we can thrust ninety degrees and then burn until we achieve trajectory clearance.”

  “Roger, Polo One. Working that now. However, we’re showing loss of fuel in two of your three main tanks, as well as low levels on your compressed nitrogen. Can you verify?”

  Jules looked at their status of their fuel and noted the same. “Dave, can you or Jack verify tank levels for one and two?” she asked.

  “Roger,” Dave said.

  “Vickie, can you do the same for tank three back there?” Jules asked.

  “Roger, Jules,” Vickie said.

  Nearly a full minute went by when she saw Dave and Jack turn to face the bulkhead camera from either side of their ship. They had opened the mechanical doors at the rear and noted the loss of fuel in both tanks. “Number one empty,” Dave said.

  “Number two also empty. Also, cracked and frozen fuel is all over the place,” Jack said.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Renee asked.

  Jules paused for a moment, understanding that Renee was primarily a software engineer and had specialized training in some hardware related to their integrated computers. That was why she had to travel to the Red Horizon in person to install a failed computer. “Not right now,” Jules said. “I may need your services up here with me to reboot the system if we have to go that route, so standby.”

  This seemed to do the trick as Renee keyed her mike and took a deep breath. “Roger, standing by.”

  “Fuel tank three is at eighty percent,” Vickie said. “Also, main and secondary buses are intact and functioning. Low-voltage power is active. All systems normal back here.”

  “You copy that, Houston?” Jules asked.

  “Roger, Polo One,” Marge said. “Working the new data now.”

  Jules listened as Tom spoke to Sanchez on a secondary channel to keep the main channel clear. In the cockpit, she had both channels turned up and audible. Somehow, Tom was getting Sanchez to weld open the flow valves on engine three. Jules flipped the switch on the secondary channel. “We going to get the engines online anytime soon?”

  “Roger that, Jules,” Sanchez said. “At least one.”

  “Two seem to be shot to shit,” Tom said vulgarly, typical for the man. “We’ll get one of them ready for you, Miss Monroe. You just hang tight. Jose will get it done.”

  Tom always spoke so informally, and the idea of being called miss was humorous to her, though only Tom could get away
with something like that after saving her ass back on the moon a couple of years back. “Roger, keep us posted. Monroe out.”

  “Polo One, this is Houston.”

  “Go, Houston,” Julie said.

  Marge’s voice was serious, sharp, and concise. “New navigation telemetry being sent to your console now. We’re looking at one solution only at this time.”

  Jules punched the refresh button to upload what was already happening a half-second earlier than normal. The new flight path showed their ship entering the atmosphere and shooting out the other side into interstellar space. Max showed an eighty-six percent solution to them surviving if they rolled ninety degrees to starboard. “That’s it, eh?”

  It wasn’t the most professional response she’d ever given, but it was all she could muster under the circumstances. Marge’s voice was still serious. “Affirmative. Check the new countdown for burn.”

  Jules looked to the sidebar where Max had calculated the burn in only four minutes. “Where did our time go?”

  Marge never got a chance to answer. “Jules, this is Tom. Check the igniter switch. We’re showing it red lined down here.”

  Tom had broken protocol and interjected himself over the main channel. It appears that he and Sanchez had finished doing something to at least one of the engines and needed them to test the igniter switch. The fuel and oxidizer could mix, but they would do no good unless ignited. Tom seemed to understand the new time constraints and was moving things forward.

  “I’m showing it as green. I’ll hit it now.”

  “I’m looking into the combustion chamber now. Hit it, Jules,” Sanchez ordered.

  “Igniting only,” Jules said. “Wait, crap, it just went red on my console.”

  “Roger, nothing back here,” Jose said. “Options, Houston?”

  “Polo One, this is Houston,” Marge said. “All crewmembers go code one immediately except Pilot Sanchez.”

  Code one meant strapped in with full-suit containment, including the cockpit. “Can we adjust the burn schedule?” Jules asked, watching the timer run down far too quickly for her taste as she ignored the crewmembers as they acknowledged the order.

  “Negative, Polo One,” Marge said. “Max shows a considerable amount of decline in survivability with negative burn.”