by Jim Henderson
So, I was doing my morning checks. I looked at the potential collision data of debris and satellites in low earth orbit, watching to make sure that nothing looked like it would hit any of the eighteen trucks we had out. The collision were, as always, all clear. The guys down in the home office in Colorado already check all this stuff, as do the international space tracking groups. I’m just set the hundredth pair of eyes or something.
Anyway, it all looked clear; none of our trucks were in danger, and I could go about my business. But while I was looking at the last of those, a new alert appeared – flashing red in the upper corner of my screen. It was a new, probable collision! What made it worse, it wasn’t with one of our trucks; it was with me, er us, er this station. Some piece of debris had apparently been knocked out of its orbit and was headed straight for the space station with a likely collision in six hours!
At almost the same second, I took all that in, I got an urgent call on the station net, “Bob, this is Ops. We need you in the Ops conference room right now! It’s big.”
I wouldn’t argue under any circumstances, but I knew they had just seen that same alert. I could imagine the guys in Ops were freaking out. I knew I was starting to.
I got up, stretched my back, grabbed my notepad, and headed off toward Ops, pushing myself quickly along as I floated through the zero gravity passageways. The lovely, young Tracy from the cafeteria gave me a strange look as I hurried past, as I wasn’t typically the hurrying type, and was usually busy in my office at this time of day.
*
I’m Bob Matiag, a cool guy of thirty-five. I’m officially called a space systems engineer, though I’m essentially a glorified mechanic. I’m up here on the lovely Reef Two commercial space station, about three hundred miles above the earth. There are about one hundred twenty people up here at any time working for about twenty different companies. These include everything from a cafeteria and a hotel to several businesses that do unique zero-gravity manufacturing, botany, and so forth. I work for Astrofix Orbital Services, managing and fixing a fleet of space ‘trucks’ as we call them. I’ve got several different kinds, but in general, these are space vehicles that look a bit like a big satellite. We send them out to mate up with other satellites in orbit to either refuel them, fix them, push them to a different orbit, or deorbit them – send them crashing down through the atmosphere to burn up. Once in a while, we even recover a satellite to reclaim a small, key component and recycle the rest.
Controllers down on Earth do most of the work sending the trucks where they need to go, making sure they meet up, etc. My job is to provide backup direction from orbit when necessary and to maintain the trucks themselves. So, after several missions, the trucks will get sent back here to the station. Then I’ll do tests, repairs, and upgrades on them. I’ve got two docked here right now. The plan is to send one of those, Truck-17, out shortly so it could rendezvous with a communication satellite and refuels it. The other one, Truck-2, is what you might call a ‘hangar queen.’ It’s had some issues and has been docked here for almost six months. During that time, I’ve had to cannibalize it for parts several times to fix other trucks. It’s theoretically usable but not in the best of shape.
Anyway, I live up here on the space station and have been here for almost two years. That’s a long time as most of the people rotate out every four to six months, but it suits me. I’m in zero-g most of the time but spend at least a couple hours a day in space station sections that have some artificial (spin) gravity. That makes some tasks easier and helps keep me from ‘wasting away’ from the lack of gravitational resistance. There are enough people up here for there to be a little society and have something resembling a social life.
*
Anyway, I got to the Ops conference room quickly. It wasn’t a conference room in a traditional sense. The primary station controller, Doug, was strapped into a seat, as was the station commander, Francois Douhet, next to him. They stared at a bank of large screens on the wall. All the rest of us just floated around at all angles so we could see the screens and see, or hear, what was going on. In addition to the station crew, Tommy Brown, the pilot of ‘the bus’ – the personnel transporter spacecraft that went back and forth to the station, Chris Chew, the head of the Business Bureau that notionally represented most of the businesses, Julie Li from station facilities, Brenda Carlisle, the manager of the thirty-room hotel, and me. I wasn’t quite sure why I was there, though I did have a couple spacecraft (the trucks) docked there.
Douhet started off as soon as most of us had floated into the room. He pointed to one of the screens on the wall, which was actually the ceiling from my lopsided floating position. It showed the orbital path of the station and a track for what I assumed was the orbital debris, heading almost straight at the station.
Douhet spoke in English, the ‘lingua franca’ here, with a stereotypical French accent. “As you probably know, we’ve received alerts showing a sizable piece of debris, part of a rocket fairing, heading almost straight for us with an estimated intercept of six hours.”
Tommy Brown wasn’t caught off guard, as he’d no doubt seen the alerts too, but asked questions. “What’s the probability of impact?”
Doug looked up and said, over his shoulder, “Eighty-two percent.”
Tommy went on, “And is there an estimate of damage?”
Douhet pointed to the screen. “I’ve got the European Space Tracking Office on the line.” Then he said into a mike, “Go ahead, STO.”
A clipped, female voice from the STO came over the speakers with a faint Germanic accent. “The damage is hard to estimate but the closing velocity will be substantial, yielding a high total force.”
Another voice came over the speakers, a man with an American accent. “This is Reef Control in Florida. We’re still working through the models on likely collision angles, velocities, and locations. We’ll know more soon, but damage would be substantial, with probable destruction of one habitat module and likely secondary damage elsewhere.”
Brenda Carlisle looked extremely nervous, and her voice was rather urgent when she spoke. “We don’t need to talk about damage. It needs to miss.” She looked furiously around the room, looking for an answer. “Can’t you just fire rockets or something and make it just miss us?”
Reef Control came back on. “Ma’am, we’re calculating a burn now. However, it’s likely too late to ensure a miss, though we hope to reduce the likelihood.”
Douhet spoke up, establishing control. “We’re working on a burn, and that may help. But we’re here to discuss options.” He looked around the small audience. “Does anyone else have any ideas?”
Julie from facilities said, “Can we evacuate if necessary?”
“A small amount if that becomes necessary, but we don’t have nearly the vehicles to get everyone off —”
Brenda interrupted in an almost pleading tone, “But someone can come help us, can’t they?”
Douhet exuded calm. “That’s not likely in time. As I was saying, we have two capsules docked, each could take four people. Mister Brown’s shuttle bus is also here. That can take eight —”
Brown interrupted more deferentially, “Uh, sir, ten, in an emergency.”
Douhet went on, unphased, “Ten. So that gets eighteen people off, which is just over ten percent. So, we’ll consider that if necessary, but it’s not a great solution especially considering this is a multi-billion dollar station.” He looked around. “Any ideas for reducing the chance of collision further?”
Everyone looked around awkwardly, hoping someone else would come up with something.
Finally, Chris Chew spoke, “I don’t have anything on that, but does anyone know why this debris suddenly headed our way? It wasn’t coming for us yesterday.”
The lady from the STO came back on. “That’s being investigated. We do not know at this time.”
Chew went on, “But we need to know, right?”
Douhet straightened himself and spoke louder to reassert control. “Yes, at some point it will be important to know. At this moment, avoiding destruction is far more important.” He paused and looked around. “So, again I ask – are there any ideas for reducing the likelihood or severity of impact?”
There was another awkward silence. I had a couple possible ideas but couldn’t bring them up without talking to my company.
Finally, I said, “I have a couple thoughts, but need to discuss with my company.”
Douhet nodded, “I understand. That might be true of others. In a minute, we’ll adjourn so we can all check back with our leadership. I will put out a brief statement to the entire station. Everyone, please, work to avoid panic.” He turned toward Li. “Julie, work with Miss Carlisle and Mister Chew to develop a proposal for who we would evacuate —”
Brenda started to interrupt, “Sir, we’ve got to evacuate our guests —”
Douhet went on, more loudly, “Work with Miss Li. Again, I’ll make an announcement. Everyone, go back to your area, and work on options and on staying calm. Please ensure you always have someone on the communication net.” He looked toward me, “Bob, I look forward to hearing your company’s thoughts, as well as anyone else with good ideas. Dismissed.”
I groaned inwardly. Great, no pressure.
The meeting broke up, people chattering to others as they floated away.
I hurried back to my ‘office.’ This consisted of a small repair bay where I could work on a recovered satellite or test things for the trucks. I pulled myself past the workbench and into the seat at my desk. I strapped in to keep from floating away and put on my headsets.
When I’d been in the meeting, I’d gotten multiple messages on my watch, but figured the local situation took precedence. As soon as I put on my headphones, I could hear the ops center at Astrofix speaking urgently, “Bob, Bob, what the hell’s going on up there?” That was Drew Smith who was a bit of a jerk.
“I got summoned to the principal’s office so to speak. We’ve got a situation here.”
Drew said in frustrating, “We know, that’s why we’ve been frantically trying to reach you.”
“Yeah. No surprise. I’m gonna need you to grab the Ops Lead. I need to discuss a few ideas.”
“I can relay that. What are you thinking?”
Since my life was apparently in danger, I was frustrated with Drew already. “Look, we’re running short of time, just get him or the dang company president. I don’t have time to repeat this stuff or wait for a committee.”
Drew didn’t immediately say anything, but I imagined him debating what to do. I knew he’d want to stand on his dignity, but the chance of trouble overcame that. He said resignedly, “They’ll be right here.”
Since the line then went dead, I did some status checks on the two trucks I had docked. Both were fueled but Truck-2 was missing several components. I tried to do some crude thrust estimates, but I knew I didn’t have enough info handy.
Finally, a few voices came on the line. “This is the Ops Lead.”
This was followed by a demanding voice, “This is Horatio Blue, Company President. Now, tell us what the hell is going on up there.”
Great. Well, I had asked for leadership. I guess I got it. “Sir, as you know, a sizable piece of debris changed course and is headed right for Reef Two. Station leadership is working on a burn, but it won’t guarantee a miss. They’re trying to calculate substantial damage, but it sounds bad and I’m guessing it would hit on my side of the station.”
Blue went on, “Then what are they doing to resolve things further? They have a responsibility to us as their customer.”
That sounded a bit crazy to me. It’s not like the station wanted to be hit. I paused to keep as much control as possible over my frustration. “Sir, they’re looking for any options we might have.” I paused. This was it. The company probably wouldn’t like my ideas. “If you’re amenable, we can offer up for Truck-17 to reposition and do a burn, then depart. Also, we might be able to rig up something with Truck-2.”
The Ops Lead cut in. “Will a burn from a truck be enough?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have enough detail to calculate, and I didn’t want to bring it up to station leadership without talking to you. It can’t hurt.”
Blue cut in, “Would our truck be okay, then?”
I’ve got to tell you, I was greatly touched by his concern for my safety. Or I would have been if he’d shown any. I fought back anger but probably bit off the words, “Yes, the truck would be fine.”
The Ops Lead, Joe Bell, cut in, wanting to get at solutions instead of argument, “What are you thinking with Truck-2?”
I said calmly, “I thought we might be able to rig it up to intercept the debris.”
“It’s not specifically configured for that and intercepting a complex, spinning piece of debris takes time and planning.”
“Yeah, I know. It might not be a controlled intercept—”
Blue cut in. “What are you saying? Are you proposing we sacrifice one of our trucks. Do you know how much those cost?”
“Yes, sir, I know exactly how much they cost. You might want to give some vague consideration to the multi-billion-dollar station I’m on as well as to the hundred-plus people. They might not mean anything to you, but they might be worth considering as more than a dang rounding error.”
There was complete silence. I wasn’t sure whether I might get fired, but at that moment I didn’t really care. The pause was extremely long, and I wondered what was going on. A few times I thought I heard faint talking in the background, but it wasn’t aimed at me. Hopefully someone was talking some sense into Blue.
The Ops Lead came back on. “Okay, Matiag. Offer the burn and the possibility of using Truck-2. But don’t commit. As you know, if it smashes into the truck, it might just cause more debris. You know, Kessler Syndrome and all that.”
He was talking about the idea, proposed by some guy named Kessler at NASA, that collisions between orbital objects could cause a cascade in which each collision generates space debris that increases the likelihood of further collisions. That is, a collision between two things could create a bunch of small pieces that could then run into other things. Any solution we came up with had to consider that.
The Ops Lead went on, We’ll be checking some stuff here with Reef Ops and others.”
I waited, expecting Blue to say something. There was nothing but awkward silence as I didn’t really have anything else to say.
Finally, the Ops Lead said, “Well, get on it. We’ll get back to you.”
I had to consider that. I wasn’t quite sure what happened there. Did Blue just step away in frustration? Did someone convince him to get a clue? Did he think he had more important things to do? I wasn’t sure, but I had to worry about the possibility of impending death, so I just decided to ignore the company for now.
I opened an audio line with Doug in Station Ops and Douhet. “Mister Douhet, this is Bob from Astrofix.”
Douhet answered with what seemed to be some excitement in his voice. “Yeah, Bob. What do you have? Any good ideas?”
I cleared my throat before speaking. “I’ve got one idea and one long shot.” I decided not to keep him in suspense, so I went on. “My company has authorized me to use one truck if doing a short burn with it will help. I honestly don’t know if the thrust is enough to help much or not.”
Doug cut in. “I was hoping you’d consider that. Can you shoot me your thrust specs and I’ll see how much impact it could have on the whole station.”
“Sure, I’m shooting you our thrust specs now.” As I said the last word, I hit enter to send him a short document outlining the thrust characteristics of our trucks.
Douhet interrupted this exchange. “And that other, long shot idea?”
I paused to make sure I didn’t say this wrong. “I’m trying to work up some ideas on whether I could use our other truck to perhaps, uh, try to catch or divert the debris. If you think that could help, I’ll work up some ideas and we can discuss them.”
Doug said anxiously, “It’s worth considering. Send us what you’re thinking.”
I fumbled around for a few minutes, mixing truck images from my documents with some crude, hand-drawn shapes. These were terrible but they depicted the two ideas I had. The first was that we send out Truck-2 in the path of the debris so it would hit the truck instead of the station. I knew this wasn’t a great option, because of the whole chain reaction thing, but it might be a desperation move to save us. The second was that we rig up some kind of crude net on Truck-2 and have it try to ‘catch’ the debris. Other space vehicles had used this kind of technique to recover debris, but our Trucks weren’t set up for that and Truck-2 was missing parts of its manipulator arms. In either case, I’d have to work with Astrofix Ops to plot or control the thing, and I didn’t think they’d like it. In any case, I sent both pics to Station Ops. They, or Reef Ops, could argue with Astrofix at least as well as I.
I got a call a couple minutes later from Doug. He didn’t sound impressed. “Bob, that’s some, uh, interesting stuff. Your first option is probably a ‘no go.’ If you rammed one of your trucks into the debris, it’d either create a lot more debris or just deflect the thing into another path. In either case, that might be trouble for us and a lot of others. That might be okay if this was occurring up in the range for Medium or Geo orbits where there’s a lot less stuff, but I can’t see anyone buying off on that for here in the very crowded Low Earth Orbit.” He paused. “That second idea could work, but do you think you can pull that off?”
“I’m not at all sure. The truck’s not set up for that, so we’d have to jury-rig something, and Astrofix Ops would have to program or control it. I can’t make the truck do that kind of thing by myself.”
He sounded interesting but skeptical, “Well, call your folks and see whether you can come up with something workable. We’re hoping that our burn, coupled with yours, could help, but your catch idea could be our ‘ace in the hole.’ Let me know.”
*
I cut my connection and was getting stuff ready when Douhet came over station speakers. “Reef Two, this is an announcement from Francois Douhet, Station Commander. We have been notified that a sizable piece of space debris is on a course that might intersect with the station. We are taking steps to ensure that doesn’t happen. As part of that, you’ll feel a thruster burn in a few minutes. Do not be alarmed. We are doing everything possible to ensure station safety and will provide additional updates as the situation is resolved.”
I had to chuckle since that seemed to downplay the severity of the situation and that resolution seemed far from certain. However, I knew that he had to keep people from panicking.
I sent my two ideas to Astrofix Ops and waited to hear what they’d say.
It didn’t take long for Drew to come on-line. “Bob, that is a complete no-go on the ‘ram into it’ option. The risk and liability would be immense. It might avoid Reef Two being hit by a big piece of debris but would likely mean thousands of smaller pieces hitting Reef Two, other stations, or satellites. That is totally off the table.”
I just said, “Got it.”
He went on. “The company is negotiating with the Reef company on that burn. We’ll let you know soon when you need to undock that truck and position it to burn.”
“Roger.”
“Finally, our engineers down here will bounce around concepts for your ‘catch it’ idea. They don’t like it, but Astrofix is considering it as a fallback option as long as everyone absolves us of all liability.”
I grunted. That sounded like Blue’s brand of compassion at work, but it wasn’t unreasonable. The last thing we needed was to try to ‘save the day’, then for something to go wrong, and suddenly we’re getting sued by half a dozen companies or governments.
I closed, trying to stress the urgency. “Understood but get back to us soon. We’re under five hours now.”
*
I ran through a checklist to ensure that Truck-17 was ready to reposition and burn. My checks first thing this morning had already covered that, but paranoia suggested doing it again. Then I headed for the cafeteria to grab a quick bite because I was starving.
The cafeteria was a small place in a portion of the station that had thirty percent of Earth’s gravity. The gravity wasn’t what one would call ‘normal’ but it was enough that I felt it and that your food didn’t float away. I got a spicy breakfast burrito from Tracy who was looking particularly lovely this morning.
As she gave it to me, she leaned in and paused for a second. She looked worried. “Bob, is everything going to be okay?”
I wasn’t sure what to say since I couldn’t be sure of that, but I could see that she wanted reassurance. I chose a middle path between lying outright and stoking her fears. “We’re all working on it. The station’s doing some stuff and then I’m going to do some stuff. Hopefully, that’ll improve things a lot. In any case, they’ll reposition people to avoid immediate danger.”
She smiled brilliantly though I couldn’t tell if she believed me. “Thanks.”
Man, she was pretty. I swore to myself that, if we were both here when this was over, I was going to ask her out. That gave me at least a fantasy to look forward to. I felt the slight rumble of the extended burn of the station’s rocket boosters. That reminded me that I needed to be quick, so I was done eating and headed back to my desk before the burn ended seven or eight minutes later.
I soon wound up in a multi-party call between Doug in Station Ops and several people at Astrofix Ops. They calculated that the station’s burn had accelerated us slightly and pushed us into a slightly higher orbit. It would definitely help, but they figured it was likely too little, too late. Even with all the station could do, the probability of impact had only gone down to forty percent. That was still far too high for anyone’s liking.
So, they all went back and forth on details for a burn from Truck-17. It had considerably less thrust than the station’s burn but could burn for several more minutes and give us a little more leeway. I was a by-stander for most of that conversation since Astrofix Ops would initiate the burn remotely. I had the capability to control the burn from here, but they felt they could better coordinate with Station Ops. That made some sense, but I think they may have also wanted to ensure that I didn’t ‘overdo it’ and burn longer than they were comfortable with, putting the truck at risk. Whatever. I was directed to reposition the truck for that burn, so I got to work on that.
This entailed me directing clamp release after Station Ops did the same. I then monitored everything about the truck as gentle air from the docking port pushed it away. It inched its way from there over to docking Alpha with some small thrusters, and then initiated a docking, in concert with Station Ops. I monitored dozens of variables as this happened and everything looked good. Once docking was complete, Astrofix Ops sent up thrust burn parameters and initiated the burn at the direction of Station Ops. It only burned for three minutes and was substantially less powerful than what the station had already done, but it helped move the station a bit. By the time the burn was done, the probability of impact was down to nineteen percent. That was much better, but still too great a risk.
Once the burn was done, we decoupled Truck-17 and Astrofix Ops sent it on a slow course away from the station. It would now be safe, no matter what happened to us. We were now down to under four hours to impact and far from safe.
The multi-party call continued, and the company and the station bounced around ideas for modifications to Truck-2. Ultimately it was agreed that I would go out in a spacesuit, weld four ten-foot crossbeams onto the front of the truck, and then bolt a cargo net to these crossbeams under tension so it created a net about eight feet in front of the truck. I wasn’t at all sure of this, but I had my orders. I’d need to get a hand, though, there was no way I could do all that by myself in the time we had.
As I got ready, I had to reposition Truck-2 so it was facing away from the station instead of into the station. I was glad to see that went well because Truck-2 had been having some issues.
Frank from facilities would accompany me on the EVA (extravehicular activity) since it was more than a one-person job. Normally, any plan for EVA would require at least twenty-four hours notice, an extremely detailed plan, and a lot of testing. This time, all of that was dispensed with. Frank and I checked each other to ensure our suits were on and operating correctly and that we were both properly tethered. Then an airlock was opened to let us outside bearing a small tool kit.
I had done almost twenty EVAs, so I’d done most of this before. However, I had far less time to admire the stars and far more work to do in a short time. Station Ops personnel had positioned the beams and cargo net so they were sitting inside an open hatch. I was tethered in two places – to the air lock I was using and to Truck-2, while Frank was tethered at the airlock and to the open hatch.
Now, the real work began. Frank used a combination of tether movement and hand-over-hand along the station body to carefully move the first beam forty feet from the hatch to Truck-2. He then held it while I started the welding, then left while I finished. I got the first beam painstakingly welded along Tractor Two’s frame so that it stuck out at something like a forty-five-degree angle. It was far from precise, but it was the best that could be done in the short time remaining.
We then repeated the process with one beam after another, each one taking just under twenty minutes. When we were done, there was a large, bent X shape on the front of good ol’ Truck-2.
Then it was time to put the cargo net on. Frank brought the net over to the truck and we worked together to attach a corner to each of the crossbeams. This was a bit of a pain because none of the materials were really designed for this, so it wasn’t like putting a bolt in some pre-built beam. The first one took about ten minutes of struggling but we had the process down for the next ones. What got more complicated was when we had to apply a bit of tension. Frank and I had to go back-to-back so that I could work on the bolt while he pulled the net toward me. He lost his hold a couple times and we had to reposition several times. Finally, it was done. There was a bit cargo net hanging loosely over the crossbeams, forming a loose square several feet in front of the truck.
We sent in a bunch of pictures and waited while both Station Ops and Astrofix looked at how it had turned out. None of them were happy but all eventually agreed that it was ‘good enough.’ Believe me, it’s not comforting to stake your life on something that’s grudgingly considered to be ‘good enough’, especially when any problem would arguably be your fault. That being said, there was realistically little else we could do given the time available.
Frank and I went back in the station, and I thanked him profusely for his help because I couldn’t have done all that alone. At the very least, it would have taken a whole lot longer.
*
As soon as I got back to my desk, Astrofix was on the line. It was Suzanne Opa, one of the main truck engineers. “Bob, we’ve seen that you made the modifications to the truck. While you were doing that, we’ve been working on the software. As you might guess, the tractors aren’t programmed to try to ‘dock’ with something that could damage them, nor something that’s spinning like that debris seems to be. We’ve made the mods so it will do that, and we’re running through a bunch of sims now.”
“What do I need to do?”
“Once we’re comfortable with the software, we’ll send it up to you and it should automatically install. I need you to verify that Truck-2 takes the update okay, especially since it’s not in the best shape.
“Will do. What else?”
“We’re also putting together kind of a strange intercept path. The truck will leave the station, head toward the object, and then speed up to nearly match the debris’ vector. The goal is to have the debris intercept that net you made with near-zero closing speed. But you’ll have to do fine control from there. We don’t want a problem because of the few seconds delay we might have from here.”
That all made sense to me. “Then what do we need the truck to do?”
“That required a lot of debate and might still change. Basically, if the catch goes as planned, Truck-2 will take the trip to push it to deorbit and burn up.”
“Do you think the truck will be okay to do all that?”
She grimaced. “It should be …” She trailed off.
I prompted her, “But?”
She smiled faintly then said, “If it has trouble, the truck might just have to take the debris into atmo.”
Wow, they were considering having the truck crash through the atmosphere with the debris, getting destroyed in the process. I was a bit surprised at that, though I should have known. “Do you mean burn up?”
“Yeah, probably. That’s obviously not the plan, but we’ve negotiated the implications of that possibility.”
It took me a minute to figure out what that meant. It probably meant that folks that owned Reef Two agreed to pay Astrofix if one of their trucks had to be sacrificed. That wasn’t totally unreasonable.
“Got it. I’ll make sure the truck’s all ready.”
She smiled, “Well, you did the hardest work and now you have the final controls. Other than that, just be safe and work with the station folks.”
*
As you might guess, the next hour was dang hectic. Douhet and the station folks finalized who would leave the station. This included mostly guests at the hotel, and the shuttle bus headed off with them. A few station personnel were put in the capsules and those would leave the station about twenty minutes before the debris would arrive. Tracy was among those in the capsules, so I was glad she would be safe, no matter what happened.
The software modifications uploaded to Truck-2 and installed fine. It looked to be ready to go, or as ready as a crazy Frankenstein creation could be. I wished it luck. It left the station thirty minutes before debris impact and headed out. I watched the truck’s progress in Station Ops because everyone in the aft habitation module, including me, was evacuated to other parts of the station and all the airtight doors were sealed. Even if the debris hit, Douhet thought we’d be safe in the other parts of the station, but it was impossible to be sure. I hoped I’d have an office to go back to because all my gear was in there. The office served as my workplace and also my main quarters. When the last mechanic had left, I’d converted an old storage room into sleeping quarters. It wasn’t great, but I had more room and more privacy than most people on the station, and I could get up and work in my pajamas if I wanted to.
In Ops, I was strapped into one of the controller stations, several screens up so I could send Truck-2 fine adjustments. I watched the path of the debris like a hawk. As the debris got closer, the probability of impact increased because the debris’ path became clearer. It was nerve-wracking, watching something that might damage or destroy us move inexorably towards us.
For all the troubles I’d had with Truck-2, it seemed to be working fine. It decoupled from the station, turned and did a burn to get to a point about fifty kilometers between us and the debris. Once there, it turned, and did a burn to match the debris’ velocity. Finally, it turned so the net was between the truck and the debris. There were a lot of people on the line during this – the station, Ops, the STO folks, and others. The path was everything. If we kept Truck-2 in the debris’ way, this might work. If the debris came around it somehow, we were in trouble. I made periodic little adjustments to ensure it was in place, with Astrofix kibitzing me all the while.
There were a couple other shuttle ‘buses’ headed our way in case survivors needed to be taken off, but they wouldn’t arrive until several hours after we’d either been hit or missed.
As the debris came ever closer, it became clear it would intercept Truck-2 three kilometers from the station. That was closer than anyone would like, but it took a while to get Truck-2 to match the velocity and get on the precise path.
Ops started a countdown as the debris approached the truck. “Five hundred meters. Four hundred.”
The debris loomed large in the camera feed from Truck-2 as it came onward, straight toward the truck. It was a twisted part of a fairing about three meters square, tumbling as it came.
The countdown got faster, “Sixty, fifty, forty, thirty, twenty, ten, and intercept.”
Truck-2’s feed went black a few seconds before impact, and everyone held their collective breath. The station controller shuffled screens around to put the external station feed on the main screen, where the truck’s view had been.
When the image resolved, everyone stood. The debris had hit the net, but it was tangled, and its momentum had gotten Truck-2 spinning. I worked the controls furiously, sending the truck short thrust commands to counteract the spin and slow the combined mass so it didn’t still hit us. First, I got it slowed so that it was no longer approaching us. Instead, it was spinning like a top out there. After a furious series of commands, I was able to slow the spinning and roll so it almost came to a stop, relative to us. I was sweating like crazy by the time it was stable.
Astrofix Ops came on the line. “Good job establishing control. We’ve negotiated a safe path with STO. Now send the truck the path to push it to deorbit.”
That was easy and the truck started pushing the thing to slow it down, which would automatically lead to a lower orbit. The occurred over thirty minutes, and we lost direct line of sight. We got a feed relayed from another station as Truck-2 approached the point where it would try to get rid of the debris and send it through the atmosphere.
It didn’t work. The debris was tangled in the cargo net. We tried to have Truck-2 shake and shimmy in hopes of getting it out of there, but it didn’t work. Either they were both going to the atmosphere or neither was.
Astrofix Ops came on. “Team, we’ve decided that Astrofix Truck-2 is going to have to ‘ride in’ the debris. Both will be largely burned up in reentry. Any remnants will land near Point Nemo in the South Pacific. It’s been a harrowing day, but together we’ve saved the Reef Two station. Thank you all.”
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief and some cheered. I was relieved, but I was also sad that Truck-2 had to die to save us. In my book, he died a hero.
There would be a little celebration in a couple hours, but I went back to my office to relax, shower, and change. I was exhausted, but I wanted to meet those two capsules when they docked back at the station in an hour or two. I was bound and determined to ask Tracy out when she came back on board. I wanted more than just survival out of this whole episode.
Jim Henderson is a Colorado writer of fun, varied, and sound science fiction adventures of various types. He is the author of the 9-book Mantis Saga, the story of the crew of the scout ship Mantis, as well as Viper: Boat-571, a military sci-fi adventure. Most recently, he published Inspector Giskard, a sci-fi mystery set in Colorado. Fun, adventure, aliens, space combat, robots, humor, and excitement abound, with deeper themes, character evolution, intrigue, mystery, and even romance. Jim is an Air Force veteran and cybersecurity professional. He is an aficionado of science fiction books, movies, TV, and games. When not working or mentally exploring the universe, he enjoys hiking, kayaking, gaming, and his 8 grandchildren.