Delta-v, page 46
A single construction bracket.
One of the thousand punch-list items they hadn’t had time to complete. The whole rear framework twisted and shook as Tighe moved to it and jammed the wrench between it and the surface of the ship. It didn’t take much leverage.
As the bracket tore free, the entire aft section of the ship suddenly tumbled away, opening a cavernous view of the Earth, into which Tighe rolled as the slipstream swept him off the James Caird’s aerodynamic skin.
He was jerked to a stop by the tether, and the wrench fell from his hands. He yawed back and forth over a couple-thousand-kilometer drop to a swirl of ocean and clouds below. If the atmosphere hadn’t been so rarified, he’d already be dead.
“That’s it, J.T.!”
He twisted around to see Chindarkar braced in the rear hatchway. Tighe grabbed the tether and started climbing.
She started pulling on the tether and swiftly hauled him in. As he climbed inside and floated past her, she sealed the hatchway behind them.
The aerocapture ship had begun to vibrate again.
Jin shouted, “Buckle up! This is going to get rough!”
Tighe and Chindarkar both strapped in to their seats as the ship started to lurch and shudder.
Tighe looked up at the virtual windscreen again, and he caught his breath at the sight.
Jin shouted, “We are going in!”
At just a thousand kilometers in altitude, the Earth filled half the screen. The city lights looked beautiful but surreal as the James Caird soared across the surface.
Fifteen seconds later, as they streaked downward through 450 kilometers’ altitude, Tighe remembered this was the orbit of the Hotel LEO. The entire ship shuddered now. The forward screen started to take on a reddish glow, and a sound like a freight train rose.
Tighe clenched his fists as they were all smashed into their seat backs.
“This is it!”
The entire viewscreen took on an orange glow as they streaked across Antarctica. The g-forces began to build. Tighe thought he was ready, but it quickly went from 2 g’s to 3, and rapidly headed toward 4.
Tighe wanted to shout, but he couldn’t even draw breath.
The screen glowed from orange to blue as they approached the southern coast of Africa. The lights of Johannesburg glittered ahead.
The cabin heated up. Smoke seeped in from the vents and everything jolted and thrummed.
Tighe checked their velocity. They were still going 25 kilometers per second. Within a minute they were moving across the Sahara desert. The coast of the Mediterranean loomed ahead in darkness—the lights of scores of cities below them.
The ship was now jolting in ways that would have torn any normal spacecraft apart. Tighe’s body strained against the seat straps.
Seven g’s now.
Studying the readout, Jin drove the ship even deeper into the atmosphere—until its nose turned white-hot.
* * *
—
Late in the evening Lukas Rochat stood at a bar in one of the many outdoor cafés on the Place Guillaume, a broad cobblestone square in the heart of Luxembourg City’s historic center. He unbuttoned his Ermenegildo Zegna jacket and took out his encrypted phone to check messages as the buzz of nearby conversation soothed him.
He had been expecting word by now. Something. Anything.
Suddenly people around him shouted and pointed skyward. Rochat looked up to see a bright light racing toward them in the night sky. Hundreds of people in the square now oohed and pointed upward. Rochat stepped out into the open and watched the object streaking in, growing in brilliance until finally he had to shield his eyes against its white-hot light.
Then the night turned into day above the city—the entire sky blue with white clouds as an artificial sun arced over the people and streets below, trailing sonic booms that rattled windows and set off car alarms.
It was then Rochat realized, and he raised his arms and shouted, “Yes!”
Only he knew what it was—who it was. He smiled and ran out into the square, shouting and following the arc of the brilliant light as it traversed the heavens.
He turned to the crowd, laughing and shouting with joy. “Yes! We have done it! We have done it!”
* * *
—
The James Caird shuddered and jolted for another two solid minutes, the cabin temperature rising all the while. The cabin filled with smoke. Tighe wasn’t certain whether he’d passed out. He couldn’t see anything except the alarm messages streaming past in his crystal display. Computers were failing. Pumps were failing. Temperature was spiking. It was hot enough that he felt like he was sitting on the lid of a meat smoker.
Just as the cabin temperature reached 110 degrees Celsius, the vibrations slowed—and then suddenly ceased. The ship was heading out again into deep space—glowing like a hot coal.
Tighe shouted, “Jin! Did we do it?” His crystal suddenly went dead as the ship’s computer systems failed. And then the power died.
The ship started to slowly tumble. Tighe felt around his seat in the blinding smoke and soon found a gloved hand—which squeezed his own. It then felt around his chest, searching for something.
Suddenly Tighe heard Chindarkar’s voice in his ear.
“. . . gency radio. Don’t you remember anything from your training?”
Tighe embraced her. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Jin? Are you okay?”
Jin’s voice sounded exhausted. “Have I killed us?”
Tighe laughed and looked around. “No, but if that didn’t achieve Earth capture, then I don’t know what could.”
Suddenly the smoke began to clear and lights came on.
Chindarkar said, “Emergency power. I’m purging the smoke and repressurizing.”
Tighe’s crystal flickered back to life. Half his screen consisted of ship alarm codes. Now that the smoke had cleared he could see his crewmates again. He and Chindarkar unbuckled and floated over toward Jin.
“Did we achieve capture?”
Jin brought up a holographic display of their projected path. It showed a glowing red line arcing past the Earth. It was clear that their aerobraking had radically warped their trajectory, curving it.
But the red line kept bending around the Earth as their position was updated moment to moment. They all watched the red line curving, curving.
“Come on, baby! Do it!”
Almost closing the loop, the red line instead hooked around the Earth and proceeded back into deep space.
Jin cursed under his breath and started stabbing at a virtual UI. “We have very little gas.”
Thrusters popped outside, and the ship lurched. They all glided into the hull wall.
Tighe pushed off. “Hot! Hot!”
They all rotated to place their boots on the hull and watched transfixed as the holographic display showed the red line resume its bending as Jin rode the forward thrusters—slowing them ever so slightly.
“C’mon . . . c’mon, baby!”
The red line kept curving around the globe—until it finally connected into an eccentric circle whose apogee was halfway to the Moon. The word Aerocapture appeared in the display.
“Yes!”
In microgravity, they all exchanged high-fives and were hurled back against the cabin walls.
They then assessed the damage. The Caird was a tough ship, but it smelled of burnt plastics and ozone, even through their pressurized suits. Or maybe that was the suits themselves.
Chindarkar scrolled through alert codes. “I hope you like your toast dark.” She tapped at virtual controls. “EHD cooler back online. What’s our ETA for another pass, Han?”
Jin studied his display. “Two days. One day to apoapsis, then another day to loop back to periapsis.”
“And then an aerobrake?”
He nodded and laughed. “This one will be a lot more gentle. I promise. Until then, we should try to get some sleep.”
* * *
—
Two days later, Tighe watched as the viewscreen again glowed in a reddish light, but it was far less intense this time. So were the vibrations of the ship. He felt in capable hands with Jin at the helm. Within thirty minutes they again rose from the surface of the Earth, and the shuddering of the ship ceased. Nothing was smoking either.
Jin unclenched visibly. “Prepare to circularize orbit.”
Chindarkar smiled. “Roger that.”
The James Caird arced across the dayside of Earth. They all stared in amazement. The view was gorgeous. Their ship glided silently above Asia, headed toward the Pacific coast at an altitude of 500 kilometers.
Jin fired the thrusters to slightly accelerate them.
Tighe was gently pressed into his seat for a moment.
Chindarkar laughed and placed an affectionate hand on the ship’s hull. “Remind me that we owe the mission control design team a thank-you letter.”
Jin cut the thrusters. He smiled. “Orbit circularized. We are now in a stable, low Earth orbit.”
The three of them gripped gloved hands and exchanged grateful—but then suddenly mournful—expressions. It took several moments to contemplate the severity of all they’d been through. The years. Their dead and stranded crewmates.
After a minute or so, Tighe activated the ship’s radio. “If we’re going to help Isabel and Ade, we still need to get ourselves rescued.” He spoke into the emergency frequency. “Mayday, mayday. This is the crew of the mining ship Konstantin. Call sign KSTN. In circular orbit at an altitude of 500 kilometers, 38-degree inclination. In need of immediate rescue. Repeat. Mayday, mayday. This is the crew of the mining ship Konstantin . . .”
Tighe repeated the broadcasts for several minutes, listening after each transmission. Theoretically the 1967 UN Agreement on the Rescue of Astronauts meant that any vessel nearby would be obligated to render aid. However, the agreement had never been tested.
Finally, a clear male voice came in over the radio. “Konstantin, Konstantin, this is Poker Flat Tracking Station. What is your transponder ID, over?”
A palpable relief spread through them at receiving a response. Tighe smiled and keyed the mic. “Poker Flat, we have no transponder, over.”
“Konstantin, what is your hull number?”
Tighe immediately replied. “Poker Flat, we have no hull number. You have our trajectory and altitude. Ground-tracking stations can confirm our orbit. We are disabled and in need of immediate rescue. Over.”
“Konstantin crew, you are not authorized for your current orbit. Repeat, you are not authorized for your current orbit.”
Tighe laughed. “Well then come and arrest us! But for god’s sake, send somebody.”
The first voice said, “What orbit did you descend from?”
“From deep space. Is there any nearby craft that can render aid?”
There were several seconds of static. Finally, another voice spoke in a Chinese accent. “Konstantin crew, this is Tiangong-4. We are 300 kilometers downrange of your present position and have you on radar. We can attempt rescue. How many are you?”
Tighe’s smile faded. He sighed as he said, “We are three. Only three.”
* * *
—
It took more than thirty-six hours, but a Chinese-flagged space capsule gained on the James Caird in orbit. It looked like a newer, larger craft—but it was nowhere near the size or sleekness of the James Caird.
Jin handled the radio communications, and finally the capsule docked at their starboard emergency hatch.
Chindarkar said, “Guess we’ll see if the dock works.”
Their visitors waited for several minutes to test that they had a good dock seal and finally the vessel hatches were opened. Two taikonauts glided inside the Caird with puzzled expressions.
Tighe met them, smiling. He shook their hands. It was the first time he’d seen a new face in more than four years. “You have no idea how great it is to see you guys.”
They wrinkled their noses as they smelled the smoke and burnt materials.
The lead one said, “You had a fire.”
His partner said, “Your entire hull is scorched black.”
“Yeah, we were going a bit fast.”
The lead one locked eyes with Jin and the expressions on both of their faces made it clear they knew each other. The second taikonaut appeared stunned as well—as though he’d seen a ghost.
“Jin Hua Han.”
Jin nodded. “Fei Liwei.”
“But you . . .” The taikonauts exchanged shocked looks.
“You were lost, training in low Earth orbit.”
“I wouldn’t say I was lost.”
“I . . . I don’t understand.”
The taikonauts looked warily at Tighe and now Chindarkar as she floated over to them.
The lead one looked around at the interior of the strange ship. “What is this vessel? There is no record of it.”
One of them rapped the hull wall with his knuckles. It sounded solid. “Is this . . . steel?”
Tighe nodded. “Cobalt steel.”
Chindarkar added, “No point in skimping.”
A voice came in over the radio. “Konstantin crew. Konstantin crew. This is Redu Tracking Station. We have someone on the line who says he needs to speak with you. Over.”
Tighe answered. “This is Konstantin crew. Who is it? Over.”
“He says he’s your lawyer.”
CHAPTER 49
Karagandy
The Hotel LEO was the nearest vessel able to accommodate three surprise guests. It took nearly twenty-four hours, but James Tighe, Jin Han, and Priya Chindarkar were transferred to the hotel in the taikonauts’ capsule.
Entering the airlock brought back bittersweet memories, and the place was now bustling with commercial astronaut trainees, working toward their orbital operations certificates. Kaspar Eld, the gregarious first manager, had since moved on, replaced by a more straitlaced corporate type. The hotel had apparently pivoted to cater exclusively to business travelers.
The presence of Chindarkar, Jin, and Tighe at the Hotel LEO—as well as their transportation there—had been paid for by a Swiss holding company. Nathan Joyce’s former lawyer, Lukas Rochat, had advised the three returned crew members of the Konstantin not to speak with anyone—especially government officials. Given the traumatic nature of their return, this suited them fine.
There was considerable curiosity about them among the students. Catching up on Earth news, Tighe and his companions were amused at coverage of an “asteroid” that had reportedly burned up in Earth’s atmosphere a few days before their arrival—lighting up the skies above Europe and North Africa. Officially, the crew of the Konstantin still did not seem to exist.
However, a stack of messages began to pile up for them—from the FAA, NASA, ESA, and others. They ignored these and instead took solace in one another’s company, staring through the hotel’s windows at the Earth rolling by below—at the indescribable beauty of life.
Finally, on the third day, an old Soyuz spacecraft arrived. It came for them alone—no doubt at a cost well above that of one of Macy’s or Burkett’s reusable rocket launches. It was marked by the logo of a commercial spin-off of Roscosmos—now reportedly running at a loss to maintain national prestige. The Russians must have been happy for the business. Whatever the reason, Tighe was glad to see the capsule.
Jin warned them that it would be a tight fit. And he wasn’t wrong.
* * *
—
As they roared out of the mesosphere, the capsule bucking, Tighe looked over at Jin, who as a trained taikonaut had performed a hundred simulated Soyuz reentries and was commanding the capsule. Jin looked somber. A glance at Chindarkar showed she felt the same. Strangely, Tighe didn’t experience the slightest anxiety about their descent—even though the capsule shook violently and an orange glow appeared outside the window while he was smashed into his seat by 4 g’s. By the time they slowed, the windows were blackened.
The reentry was tame by comparison to the Caird’s aerocapture.
There was a bang, then a rush of air outside as the Soyuz’s drogue parachute deployed—tossing the capsule around crazily against the dragline. Finally the main parachutes deployed, and the descent calmed. After minutes dropping through clear blue sky, the landing rockets fired, and suddenly the Soyuz capsule was on the ground. It rolled slowly onto its side.
Outside the blackened porthole near him, Tighe saw blades of young grass. He smiled at the sight.
The three of them unbuckled their harnesses. Tighe looked at Jin. “Let’s do it . . .”
He crawled to the top of the capsule and turned the hatch lugs. With a bit of effort he pulled the hatch door inward, and a fresh breeze swept past him. Tighe laughed and heard startled shouts of joy behind him.
He crawled out on all fours, finally rolling onto flattened grass. He gazed up at a blue sky dotted with cumulonimbus clouds and breathed deeply the air of Earth. It had been years since he’d smelled so much life.
Chindarkar and Jin climbed out, rolling onto their backs in the grass next to him. They, too, gazed up at the sky.
Chindarkar laughed with delight. “It’s beautiful!”
Tighe carefully stood up. He was shaky but otherwise able to stand in Earth gravity. Flat grassland spread to the horizon in all directions. They were, he knew, somewhere in the Karagandy region of Kazakhstan.
Back on Earth. Finally. After four and a half years.
The only other time he’d felt this alive was after he’d climbed out of Tian Xing. His emotions now were every bit as conflicted.
