Something flashed in the corner of his vision. Leaning forward to get a better look out the window through his helmet visor, Dan saw the RMS arm weaving back and forth against the black background of space like the long, thin, bony arm of a gigantic Halloween skeleton. It’s pulled loose of its restraint, he realized. Soon it would wrench free altogether and start bashing the station like a battering ram.
The Earth spun into view again. Dan keyed in a command for a display of attitude rates calculated by the inertial measurement unit. If the spin rates haven’t already exceeded the ACS’s limits, Dan told himself, maybe we can bring this Tinkertoy to heel. If not…
For a brief moment, the spin rates flashed—one revolution per minute, one point two—then the numbers exploded into garbage characters. The ACS’s limit had been exceeded; the primary system was out of commission. The station was in a three-axis tumble.
Dan disengaged from his foot restraints and frantically rummaged through a nearby tool compartment. The cabin lights winked out. The command module darkened as the viewport spun away from the glow of the Earth. Dan whirled to the computer. A warning flashed: “Solar panel drive failure.” Then the screen died.
Ramsanjawi lay flat on the bulkhead next to the rumpus-room hatch. With his lungs heaving and his legs as shaky as rubber, he struggled upright. His hands just reached the hatch of the CERV port.
The hatch seemed as heavy as a bank vault’s. His first pull yielded nothing. The second opened the hatch briefly before it slammed shut again, nearly taking his fingers. He took a deep breath and steeled himself for one monumental pull. Slowly, the hatch peeled back. One inch, two inches, six inches. Then gravity was on his side, and the hatch snapped open.
Ramsanjawi crawled through the port and into the lifeboat. Six months’ training, he thought; what a laugh. With a mere few hours of observation during and after those mindless evacuation drills, he had deduced the method of piloting the lifeboat to Earth. And even if he drifted in orbit, there was little to fear. NASA certainly would not forsake the sole survivor of Trikon Station.
Above the constant din of the alarms came a loud crash. The entire lifeboat shuddered.
The force of the landing stunned O’Donnell. When he saw the open CERV port, his senses cleared. He bounced up, hooked the port’s rim with his gloves, and jerked himself through. His helmet smashed against the CERV hatch as it swung shut. O’Donnell used all his strength to prevent the hatch from locking. Wedging himself in the connecting station hatchway that Ramsanjawi had struggled to open a few moments earlier, O’Donnell pushed and pushed against the CERV hatch, feeling a slight give. Suddenly, the hatch released and he flew into the lifeboat. He landed against the far bulkhead and became entangled in the loose harnesses. Ramsanjawi gathered his satchel and fled the CERV, billowing into the connecting tunnel. O’Donnell freed himself and bounded after him.
Ramsanjawi had no time to open the other lifeboat port; O’Donnell was right on his heels. He clawed his way up the wall of the connecting tunnel and dropped into the wardroom. O’Donnell followed.
The centrifugal force had turned the module’s wall into its floor, and both men clambered like harbor seals over the newly horizontal galleys. Ramsanjawi opened a galley door and began winging trays. They flew like lethal frisbees, crisply slicing through the air as O’Donnell instinctively ducked away from them. One hit the shoulder of his suit and bounced off, wobbling through the air.
Then the wardroom was plunged into darkness.
“Oh, shit,” O’Donnell snapped. A tray clattered against the galley behind him. A single emergency light, glowing weakly from what had been the ceiling, cast thick slabs of shadow. O’Donnell carefully raised his helmeted head. No other trays came whizzing at him.
Ramsanjawi was nowhere in sight. O’Donnell climbed across the last of the galleys and peered through the horizontal doorway into the ex/rec area. An emergency light glowed there as well; the exercise machines and game tables, now growing out of the wall, were wrapped in shadow.