49. A Bumpy Ride
Warren Kingsley’s voice had regained its control; now it was merely dull and despairing.
“We’re trying to stop that mechanic from shooting himself” he said. “But it’s hard to blame him. He was interrupted by another rush job on the capsule, and simply forgot to remove the safety-strap.”
So, as usual, it was human error. While the explosive links were being attached, the battery had been held in place by two metal bands. And only one of them had been removed…. Such things happened with monotonous regularity; sometimes they were merely annoying, sometimes they were disastrous, and the man responsible had to carry the guilt for the rest of his days. In any event, recrimination was pointless. The only thing that mattered now was what to do next.
Morgan adjusted the external viewing mirror to its maximum downward tilt, but it was impossible to see the cause of the trouble. Now that the auroral display had faded the lower part of the capsule was in total darkness, and he had no means of illuminating it. But that problem, at least, could be readily solved. If Monsoon Control could dump kilowatts of infrared into the basement of the Tower, it could easily spare him a few visible photons.
“We can use our own searchlights,” said Kingsley, when Morgan passed on his request.
“No good – they’ll shine straight into my eyes, and I won’t be able to see a thing. I want a light behind and above me – there must be somebody in the right position.”
“I’ll check,” Kingsley answered, obviously glad to make some useful gesture. It seemed a long time before he called again; looking at his timer, Morgan was surprised to see that only three minutes had elapsed.
“Monsoon Control could manage it, but they’d have to retune and defocus – I think they’re scared of frying you. But Kinte can light up immediately; they have a pseudo-white laser – and they’re in the right position. Shall I tell them to go ahead?”
Morgan checked his bearings – let’s see, Kinte would be very high in the west – that would be fine.
“I’m ready,” he answered, and closed his eyes.
Almost instantly, the capsule exploded with light. Very cautiously, Morgan opened his eyes again. The beam was coming from high in the west, still dazzlingly brilliant despite its journey of almost forty thousand kilometres. It appeared to be pure white, but he knew that it was actually a blend of three sharply-tuned lines in the red, green and blue parts of the spectrum.
After a few seconds’ adjustment of the mirror he managed to get a clear view of the offending strap, half a metre beneath his feet. The end that he could see was secured to the base of Spider by a large butterfly nut; all be had to do was to unscrew that, and the battery would drop off.
Morgan sat silently analysing the situation for so many minutes that Kingsley called him again. For the first time there was a trace of hope in his deputy’s voice.
“We’ve been doing some calculations, Van…. What do you think of this idea?”
Morgan heard him out, then whistled softly. “You’re certain of the safety margin?” he asked.
“Of course,” answered Kingsley, sounding somewhat aggrieved; Morgan hardly blamed him, but he was not the one who would be risking his neck.
“Well – I’ll give it a try. But only for one second, the first time.”
“That won’t be enough. Still, it’s a good idea – you’ll get the feel of it.”
Gently Morgan released the friction brakes that were holding Spider motionless on the tape. Instantly he seemed to rise out of the seat, as weight vanished. He counted “One, TWO !” and engaged the brakes again.
Spider gave a jerk, and for a fraction of a second Morgan was pressed uncomfortably down into the seat. There was an ominous squeal from the braking mechanism, then the capsule was at rest again, apart from a slight torsional vibration that quickly died away.
“That was a bumpy ride,” said Morgan. “But I’m still here – and so is that infernal battery.”
“So I warned you. You’ll have to try harder. Two seconds at least.”
Morgan knew that he could not outguess Kingsley, with all the figures and computing power at his command, but he still felt the need for some reassuring mental arithmetic. Two seconds of free fall – say half a second to put on the brakes – allowing one ton for the mass of Spider… . The question was: which would go first – the strap retaining the battery, or the tape that was holding him here four hundred kilometres up in the sky? In the usual way it would be “no contest” in a trial between hyperfilament and ordinary steel. But if he applied the brakes too suddenly – or they seized owing to this maltreatment – both might snap. And then he and the battery would reach the earth at very nearly the same time.
“Two seconds it is,” he told Kingsley. “Here we go.”
This time the jerk was nerve-racking in its violence, and the torsional oscillations took much longer to die out. Morgan was certain that he would have felt – or heard – the breaking of the strap. He was not surprised when a glance in the mirror confirmed that the battery was still there.
Kingsley did not seem too worried. “It may take three or four tries,” he said.
Morgan was tempted to retort: “Are you after my job?” but then thought better of it. Warren would be amused; other unknown listeners might not.
After the third fall – he felt he had dropped kilometres, but it was only about a hundred metres – even Kingsley’s optimism started to fade. It was obvious that the trick was not going to work.
“I’d like to send my compliments to the people who made that safety strap,” said Morgan wryly. “Now what do you suggest? A three-second drop before I slam on the brakes?”
He could almost see Warren shake his head. “Too big a risk. I’m not so much worried about the tape as the braking mechanism. It wasn’t designed for this sort of thing.”
“Well, it was a good try,” Morgan answered. “But I’m not giving up yet. I’m damned if I’ll be beaten by a simple butterfly nut, fifty centimetres in front of my nose. I’m going outside to get at it.”
50. The Falling Fireflies
01 15 24
This is Friendship Seven. I’ll try to describe what I’m in here. I am in a big mass of some very small particles that are brilliantly lit up like they’re luminescent… . They’re coming by the capsule, and they look like little stars. A whole shower of them coming by.
01 16 10
They’re very slow; they’re not going away from me more than maybe three or four miles an hour. .
01 19 38
Sunrise has just come up behind in the periscope, as I looked back out of the window, I had literally thousands of small, luminous particles swirling round the capsule.
(Commander John Glenn, Mercury “Friendship Seven”, 1962 Feb. 20.)
With the old-style spacesuits, reaching that butterfly nut would have been completely out of the question. Even with the Flexisuit that Morgan was now wearing it might still be difficult – but at least he would make the attempt.
Very carefully, because more lives than his own now depended upon it, he rehearsed the sequence of events. He must check the suit, depressurise the capsule, and open the hatch – which, luckily, was almost full-length. Then he must release the safety belt, get down on his knees – if he could! – and reach for that butterfly nut. Everything depended upon its tightness. There were no tools of any kind aboard Spider, but Morgan was prepared to match his fingers – even in spacegloves – against the average small wrench.
He was just about to describe his plan of operations in case anyone on the ground could find a fatal flaw when he became aware of a certain mild discomfort. He could readily tolerate it for much longer, if necessary, but there was no point in taking chances. If he used the capsule’s own plumbing, he would not have to bother with the awkward Diver’s Friend incorporated in the suit.
When he had finished he turned the key of the Urine Dump – and was startled by a tiny explosion near the base of the capsule. Almost instantly, to his astonishment, a cloud of twinkling stars winked into existence, as if a microscopic galaxy had been suddenly created. Morgan had the illusion that, just for a fraction of a second, it hovered motionless outside the capsule; then it started to fall straight down, as swiftly as any stone dropped on earth. Within seconds it had dwindled to a point, and then was gone.