The Blue Planet Awaits
[ACT 1]
YUKARI HAD EXPECTED Mir’s air lock to be something like an elevator, but it more closely resembled a tube with a manhole-like hatch on its far end. She entered feetfirst and closed the outer hatch above her head. With the flip of a switch, air began to flood the chamber, and the needle on the pressure gauge started to move. When the pressure in the air lock had equalized with the pressure inside the space station, a green light came on. Yukari then rotated a handle on the wall of the air lock to open the inner hatch beneath her feet.
“I’m going to pull you in now. Let your muscles relax.” Oleg grabbed Yukari by the ankles and gave a gentle tug.
Yukari drifted into pure white light. The room she found herself in had neither ceiling nor floor. She was surrounded by pipes and machinery. There was no clear ‘up,’ and it took Yukari a moment to adjust.
Grabbing hold of a handle on the wall, Yukari spun herself around to face Oleg, who floated at an angle to her on his side. He was a head taller than Yukari, but the body beneath his blue coveralls bore the sleek build of a gymnast.
Oleg’s wide, brown eyes were riveted on Yukari.
“Um…” What was proper etiquette for greeting someone in space?
Yukari decided to start by orienting herself the same direction as Oleg and removing her helmet. With the slightest spin of her body, her hair went every which way. Free of the 1 G in which it had been fixed, it gracefully spread out. Yukari extended both arms like a figure skater to stop herself from spinning. As she did, her hair danced as it recoiled into her shoulders and chest.
Without realizing it, Yukari burst into a smile. She had been unable to enjoy the full experience of microgravity in the confines of her capsule.
Oleg was transfixed. “At last we meet. Welcome aboard Mir,” said Oleg, embracing Yukari in a bear hug.
“What? Hey!”
Oleg held Yukari nearly a minute before finally letting go, and his eyes soon settled back on her body. Yukari’s skintight suit, a scant two millimeters thick, left precious little to the imagination.
“You are a vision,” said Oleg.
Under the circumstances, Yukari was willing to forgive his behavior. Oleg and his commander had been alone aboard the station for over half a year, after all.
“It’s, uh, nice to meet you. I can’t thank you and Nikolai enough for letting me aboard.” Yukari extended her hand.
The gesture seemed to restore Oleg to his senses. He took Yukari’s hand and gave it a firm shake.
“It is our pleasure, Yukari. Come, let us go to the core module. It is small, so you should leave your helmet and backpack here.”
The interior of the space station was chaotic. Air ducts and cables snaked everywhere, making the already tight, tunnel-like space feel even more cramped. Bits of random junk were entwined along the walls. The air was filled with the loud whine of fans, and the place smelled like a locker room in the middle of summer.
It had already been over a decade since they had put the first module into orbit. Various patch-up jobs and additions hadn’t been able to hide the gradually deteriorating conditions inside. Originally planned as a new station, Mir 2 had floundered along with the Russian economy, eventually winding up as part of a larger international space station. Now construction on that international station had hit a roadblock, and there was no support for full-time astronauts on board—which meant they had to make do with Mir.
“If this had been the main air lock in the Kristall-2 module, we would have been able to fit your entire capsule inside,” Oleg said as she was moving in. “But it has been broken for some time. Now we use only for storage.”
Yukari was not inspired with confidence.
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“If something happens we can escape in the Soyuz.”
A simplified version of the Soyuz remained docked at Mir at all times for use as an emergency escape vehicle.
Yukari peeled back a cloth cover held in place by bungee cords and went through a narrow, manholelike port into the core module. Past a pilot’s chair, with its switchboard and monitor, she arrived at the living quarters. This room was about three meters across, with a boxy dining table and four backless chairs attached to one of the walls.
A curtain ran along one side of the module, with a small space like a changing room behind it. Inside she spotted a sleeping bag attached to the wall and a single round window.
“That is my kayuta. I let you use.”
“Kayuta?”
“My berth. It is a bit narrow, but there is no place like home, yes?”
Yukari smiled. “That’d be great. Thank you.”
The Kvant-1 module beyond the living space had formerly been a science lab but was now relegated to use as a toilet and storage. Beyond that was the port where the Soyuz would be docked.
“We don’t have much time for chitchat, but there is a very important thing you need to know. I will get right to the point,” Oleg said, considerately describing how to use the toilet facilities.
Yukari listened, appreciating the man’s straightforward demeanor.
It turned out there was something like a large suction cup that handled both solid and liquid waste, sucking it away along with a quantity of air. It didn’t seem all that difficult to use. Much to Yukari’s relief, the station was equipped with female facilities.
Oleg left, and alone at last, Yukari used the washbasin—the design required her to stick her hands and face into a sealed compartment—and gave a deep sigh of relief. It had been nine hours since she’d last washed, and she really needed it. Being here felt like arriving at a hotel after a long journey. A little cramped, but cozy all the same.
Back in the living area she paused for a moment when she saw the two men seated there waiting for her. She would have come to a complete stop if she hadn’t already been floating in their direction. It was hard to freeze on the spot in zero gravity.
So this was Commander Belyayev. Out of his suit, the bulky Russian looked more like a bear than a man. He had black hair, thick eyebrows, and sideburns on a square face. He was a bit older than Oleg—maybe in his mid-forties, she guessed.
“Yukari Morita reporting,” she introduced herself. “Thanks for the help out there.”
Nikolai glared at her for a moment and said simply, “Good morning.”
Mir ran on Moscow time, which made it six in the morning.
Yukari swallowed. Maybe he’s grumpy in the morning? Or maybe his blood pressure’s just low because he’s been up here so long.
Oleg glanced between the two of them and cleared his throat. “Welcome, Yukari, to our humble abode. Here, have a seat. You will want to tuck your toes under the handle there on the floor. It is breakfast time. I hope our food is to your liking.”
She sat down next to Oleg in the seat indicated. It felt odd having to bend her legs to fit on the chair, but once she was seated the arrangement felt much more like a conventional table, and the two cosmonauts much more like family.
“Should be about ready!”
Oleg lifted up the table lid, revealing an electric heating unit inside, with pockets for small cans and small tubes along an outer ring that were cool to the touch.
She took the can offered to her and pulled the tab to open the lid, revealing a brownish, gloopy substance inside. Wincing, she took a whiff and was overpowered by an intense smell of garlic. “What the…”
“Beef stroganoff!”
She set the can aside and reached for one of the tubes, but when she opened the lid, the stench of garlic assailed her nostrils again.
“And this is?”
“Borscht! It is a Russian specialty.”
Yukari shook her head. Considering the cost of transportation, this meal must have been insanely expensive. I can’t exactly refuse it, she thought, watching as Nikolai began working the gloop in the can with his spoon.
A call from TsUP broke the uneasy silence in the cabin. Oleg answered. After speaking in Russian for a while, he turned to them and said, “Yukari, you have a call from Solomon mission control. I told them you were eating, but they insist.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll talk to them,” she replied, hoping her relief wasn’t too obvious. She looked around for a moment, wondering where to set her spoon. Nikolai pointed toward a small magnetic plate on one corner of the table. Nodding, Yukari let her spoon clamp on to the magnet. She unhooked herself from the floor handle with her toes and floated up toward the ceiling, turning as she went to face the wireless communicator set into the wall.
[ACT 2]
“GET READY, WE’RE going live.”
Mission control was packed with Japanese television reporters. The man speaking to Yukari was a producer chosen to represent the group. Director Nasuda wanted to take full advantage of the media, so when the press corps made a request, he bent over backward to accommodate them.
“And here we go in three…two…one.”
A burst of applause filled the control room as the grainy image from the Russian space station appeared on the main screen.
Yukari waved at the wide-angle lens. “How’s it going down there? Can you see me?”
“Hoi, you look good, Yukari!” Matsuri was her usual chipper self.
“Everything up here is shipshape. We were right in the middle of a welcome party when you called.”
“I hope you’re getting something to eat. You can’t work on an empty stomach.”
“This Russian food though—gag me.”
“What’s it like?”
“You wouldn’t believe—”
“Let me talk to her,” interrupted Kinoshita. “Yukari, I want to go over our plans for getting you home.”
“Sure, okay.”
“Right now we’re preparing the third ship for launch. Unfortunately, the orbiter won’t be able to reach Mir by relying on remote commands alone. We’re going to need to downlink data from Mir’s docking radar to mission control here in the Solomons and uplink that to the orbiter to guide it in. Understood?”
“I think so. I don’t know what it’s going to take for Mir to do that though.”
“Could you put their commander on?”
“Sure, hang on.”
Nikolai appeared on the screen and began discussing the situation with Kinoshita in English.
The television producer leaned over and whispered to Director Nasuda. “This is no good. We need to get Yukari back on.”
“Patience, patience,” replied Nasuda with a winning smile. “It’s not as though you have to break for commercial anytime soon.”
“No, but if the audience loses interest—”
“Look, we haven’t gotten a formal reply from the Russians yet, so we want to pave the way by getting in good with their commander. It’ll just take a minute.”
“Let’s hope so. We’ve got Catching Up with the Moritas after this.”
“I know, I know. Once we get this business out of the way, she’s yours for as long as you like.”
When this producer had learned that Yukari would be visiting Mir, he had had an award-winning idea. Mir was equipped with a camera and the ability to send and receive video in real time. What better way to cover a Morita family reunion?
He had set up the lines for the broadcast in record time, with links between Japan, the Solomon Islands, and TsUP mission control in Russia. In exchange for the use of their bandwidth, myriad television stations around the globe would gain the rights to air the program—it would be broadcast live throughout Asia, Africa, North America, Europe, and Australia.
As Kinoshita wrapped up his conversation with Commander Belyayev, the producer whispered to Matsuri. “You’re up, Matsuri. Break a leg.”
“Hoi. Yukari, we have a special surprise for you—a video conference with your parents. People all over the world will be watching.”
“What?”
The image split into two windows. Yukari’s father, Hiroshi Morita, appeared on the screen.
“You’re looking well, Yukari.”
“Uh, hi, Dad. Are you in the village?”
“A camera crew came out and asked me to talk to you.”
“Talk to me about what?”
“Oh, you know, see how you’re feeling.”
“Never better. What about you? You found a new chief to replace you yet? You are getting ready to go back to Japan, right?”
“Things are moving.”
“You promised.”
“A promise is a promise, Yukari, but—”
Hiroko Morita interrupted. The producer scrambled to get a third window showing Yukari’s mother on the screen. Hiroko was in the living room of their home in Yokohama. “After all this trouble to become an astronaut, what’s all the hurry to get home?”
“I thought you were on my side, Mom.”
“You’re just going to leave Matsuri there all by herself? Or did you plan on bringing her back to Japan with you?”
Matsuri appeared in a fourth window. “Hoi, I want to fly on a few missions before I decide.”
“There, you see?”
“How do you like space, Yukari?” interrupted her father. “Is one trip going to be enough to get it out of your system?”
“I haven’t had time to think about it. So far I’ve had my hands full with one emergency after another.”
“And you pulled it off,” said her mother. “Doesn’t that make you feel proud?”
“A little, maybe.”
“They still need Hiroshi in the village—why not stick with the program a little longer, brush up your skills?”
“But I want to go back to school! If I’m not back by next semester, they’re going to hold me back a grade!”
“What’s one year?”
“Aren’t you worried at all?”
“About what?”
“I was almost killed!”
“There’s danger everywhere,” replied Hiroko. “Your dying in space is something I could come to terms with, but what if you were hit by a car in front of the house or you slipped on a bar of soap in the bathtub? It’s a meaningless death like that that worries me.”
“Which is exactly the problem.”
“Morimori died from a snakebite,” said Matsuri.
“That’s right, she did, didn’t she,” said Hiroshi. “Such a waste…”
“Who’s Morimori?” asked Yukari.
“Morimori was my daughter with…Tongua, I think it was.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, this man can’t even remember the names of the mothers of his children.”
“Still can’t get enough, eh, Hiroshi?” said Hiroko.
“It’s hard for a leopard to change his spots,” admitted her father.
“Tankuku drowned in the river,” continued Matsuri. “Lapepe was kicked by a boar.”
“And Kalengi ate some bad fish, as I recall.”
“We lost a foreman at one of our construction sites,” offered Hiroko. “A crane fell over in the wind—his brains were all over the place.”
“Wind can sneak up on you like that.”
“The trouble is when it blows intermittently—once harmonic vibration kicks in, it’s all over.”
“Hoi, you should have made an offering to the wind spirits.”
“You’re pretty superstitious for an astronaut,” said Yukari.
“Don’t be so hard on your sister, Yukari,” said Hiroshi. “Even in Japan they don’t break ground on a new building without a religious ceremony.”
“Listen to your father, Yukari. Plenty of people take these things seriously.”
“You two are certainly on the same page.”
“We did know each other before the honeymoon, you know,” said Hiroshi.
“But this is the first time we’ve talked in sixteen years,” added Hiroko.
“Do you know anyone who’s died, Yukari?” asked Matsuri.
“You really like this morbid stuff, don’t you, Matsuri?”
“Hoi!”
“Well, let’s see. There was a girl in school who got stung by a wasp.”
“I remember that. Caused quite a stir at the PTA meeting,” said Hiroko.
“We have wasps here too, don’t we, Matsuri?”
And so it went. The producer, who had hoped for a teary reunion, was dumbfounded but powerless to stop it. The Morita family talked until Mir passed out of range.
[ACT 3]
YUKARI SPENT THE rest of the day answering calls from the media at Solomon mission control and throughout the world. She was in one interview or another right up until lights-out on Mir. By then she had been up more than twenty-four hours straight, and she was exhausted.
Yukari went to Oleg’s kayuta and watched as he showed her how to use the sleeping bag. It made her feel like a bug in a cocoon, but in zero gravity there weren’t many options.
“You looked very happy talking with your family,” said Oleg.
Yukari’s head was the only part of her body protruding from the sleeping bag. “Hmm, you think so?” She cocked her head. “I didn’t feel particularly happy.”
“But you were. During breakfast you were nervous. But after you spoke with family, you seem relaxed, at home.”
“Really?”
Yukari had felt frustrated, annoyed, even angry…but happy?
The impromptu family reunion had caught her completely off guard. She had imagined their reunion would take place outside of customs at Narita Airport. Her father would be wearing a suit, and they would come walking out together, side by side, to find her mother waiting for them. There would be no teary spectacle, much to the dismay of the media thronging around them. The three of them would walk past the cameras and microphones with neither a nod nor a word, and they would go home together for the first time. And when they were home, they would talk about anything and everything.
Instead, the reunion had taken place via four-way satellite tele-conference. On live television, they had started bickering back and forth almost as soon as they had opened their mouths, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Yukari was speaking to them from aboard a Russian space station. They had spoken their minds in front of the whole world.
“So that’s what it feels like to be a family,” she said in Japanese. Then, in English, “Do you have a family, Oleg?”
“Yes. Wife, but no children yet.”
“Do you talk to your wife the way we talked today?”
“Sometimes, yes.” Oleg seemed a little nervous.
Yukari decided to ask something that had been bothering her. “What about Nikolai? Does he have a family?”
“Wife and two children.”
“He seems like he’s in a bad mood. Did you two get in a fight or something?”
“With me? No. We get along well.”
“Then with his family, maybe?”
“Hard to say.”
“You live together. How can you not know?”
“We do our best not to intrude.”
“Being up here for over half a year, don’t you ever feel…unfulfilled?”
Oleg shook his head. “Only the chosen few can do our job. It is a great honor.”
“I think I get it.” Oleg had given Yukari a stock answer, but it had made something click. “So there is something different about real astronauts. Were you in the military?”
“Yes, I flew Sukhoi fighters in Khabarovsk. Nikolai was an upperclassman when I was at air force academy. Finally he was promoted to desk job, but he never gave up his dream of flying higher, faster. So he applied to be cosmonaut.”
“A real go-getter.”
“Nikolai is incredible man. But do not sell yourself short. You are real thing, Yukari.”
“I don’t know…”
“And so charming too.”
“Thanks.” Yukari smiled. “You don’t know how happy you made me when you decided to let Tampopo dock.”
“Do not mention it. No one knew how you must have felt better than we did.”
“Thanks,” she said again.
A wave of relief surged over her. She had washed up on the shores of a man-made island in space called Mir, and she was lucky to be here.
Her anxiety had held sleep at bay, and with it gone, she felt her eyelids grow heavy.
“Sorry, I can barely keep my eyes open.”
“Sleep well, Yukari. Good night.” Before Oleg had turned from the kayuta, Yukari was already fast asleep.
[ACT 4]
“IT’S LIGHTS OUT on Mir,” announced Kinoshita, removing his headset.
“Maybe we should do the same,” said Director Nasuda. “Good work, everyone.”
Exhausted, the other controllers removed their headsets in unison, leaning back in their chairs and stretching as they did.
Kinoshita left his workstation and approached Director Nasuda. “That just leaves the third ship. If we can pull this off, we’ve got a mission for the history books.”
“That we do. Did you find the problem with the gyroscope on the main booster?”
“One of the damper components wasn’t up to spec. We’ve already finished repairs.”
“Good. Hopefully that’s the last trouble we’ll have from Matsuri’s ‘evil spirits.’” Director Nasuda let out a long sigh.
Satsuki walked into the control room carrying a tray of coffee.
“Just what the doctor ordered,” said Director Nasuda.
“Without any medical telemetry, this doctor had too much free time on her hands,” said Satsuki.
“It’s too bad. I’m sure you’d love to get some data of Yukari sleeping,” said Kinoshita.
“She’s probably sleeping like a baby. I doubt the data would be all that interesting,” replied Satsuki. “Yukari really did great today though. She has courage and focus in spades.”
“With a family like hers, she needs it.”
“Do you think she’ll really quit after this?” asked Director Nasuda, his face pained. “Yukari has rare talent. I don’t know what she sees in going back to high school.”
“She wants a normal life,” said Kinoshita. “Two parents, friends that treat her like everyone else.”
“She said as much, didn’t she,” Director Nasuda conceded. Kinoshita smirked. “Normal may be harder for her than she thinks.”
“Normal is overrated. Do you know how many kids these days are raised by single parents?”
“But it’s important for her,” Satsuki said. “We have to support her decision.”
“You’re right, of course,” Director Nasuda said, fighting back a yawn. “I think I’m going to lie down. Any beds around here?”
“There are some cots in the break room in the training center.”
Director Nasuda left the control room grumbling about how he used to be able to stay up for two nights in a row when he was younger.
[ACT 5]
YUKARI WOKE TO the sound of voices. She wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep. One of the voices was raised, angry. Nikolai, she thought. It seemed as though Oleg were defending himself against some accusation, but she couldn’t understand what they were saying.
The argument grew more heated. She heard a crash as two objects collided, followed by the sound of Oleg’s voice, uncharacteristically high. Yukari couldn’t sit still any longer. Whatever their reasons for fighting, a brawl at a time like this could only lead to trouble.
Yukari fastened her suit, which she had opened to let her skin breathe, and pulled back the curtain covering the kayuta. The lights in the core module were still dimmed for sleep. She was alone.
Light streamed through the open door leading to the docking port. Maybe they were in Kvant-2.
Yukari pushed out of the kayuta and drifted in the direction of the voices. The docking port formed a cross, with the Kvant-2 module above, Kristall below, and Kristall-2 straight ahead. The source of the light was above her.
As Yukari reached the docking port, the voices fell quiet. Had they heard her?
She hesitated for an instant before realizing how foolish she was acting. She was only going to step in to mediate—there was no need to hide.
She heard Nikolai’s voice again, softer than a moment before, ingratiating.
Yukari poked her head into the module and froze. Nikolai and Oleg were locked in an embrace. They were kissing.
Yukari’s wristwatch clattered against a pipe. The two cosmonauts quickly turned away from each other and faced her. They had both turned beet red.
Nikolai moved first. He pushed off Oleg, propelling himself toward Yukari, his blood-darkened face contorted into a hideous grin.
Yukari was terrified. What kind of trouble had she gotten herself in?
Nikolai grasped Yukari by the shoulder, but she struggled free. Her fight-or-flight response had kicked in, and she was taking flight—but to where?
She raced through the docking port, turning ninety degrees as she rushed into another module—Kristall-2. To her surprise, she found her helmet and backpack secured to the wall ahead of her with velcro—she was at the air lock.
Yukari turned to see Nikolai’s massive body blocking the hatch back to the docking port.
“Easy, Yukari. Calm down.”
But Yukari was way past calm. She yanked her helmet and backpack off the wall and dove into the air lock.
“Wait! What are you doing?” cried Nikolai.
Ignoring him, Yukari began to turn the handle. The inner hatch caught Nikolai’s finger as it closed, but Yukari didn’t stop. Nikolai howled in pain, but somehow he managed to work his hand free. The hatch snapped closed. After ensuring it was locked, Yukari hurriedly put on her helmet and backpack.
“What’s going on? Where’s Yukari?” Oleg was only a few seconds behind Nikolai.
“She’s in the air lock. We can’t open it from this side.”
“What does she think she’s doing?” Oleg grabbed on to the inner hatch and knocked loudly. There was no reply. “She’s going to get herself killed!”
“We need to cut power to the air lock controls,” said Nikolai. “That will prevent the valve vent interlock from actuating. Then we can talk to her over the intercom.”
“Let’s go!”
Nikolai and Oleg raced to the core module. There in one corner was the power relay panel. A tangled skein of thick cables spilled out when they opened the panel.
“What the—what happened here?” asked Oleg.
“That’s right. This was repaired two years ago after the power failure.”
“Is this your work?”
“No. Vladimir and Viktor were on board then.”
“What do we do? Is there a report detailing the repairs?”
“It’s somewhere in Kvant-1 with the rest of the junk.”
“We could search for a week and never find it in there! Maybe we should radio TsUP.”
“The only people there now are the night watch. They won’t know anything about this. You’re an engineer—can’t you look at the wiring and figure something out?”
Oleg clucked his tongue. “That may be fastest.” He brought out a toolbox and got down to work.
The power relay was the heart of the space station. All sixteen kilowatts of power provided by the station’s massive solar arrays passed through the relay before being distributed to the batteries, inverters, and countless pieces of equipment on the station.
Sweat beaded on Oleg’s forehead.
The repair work on the cables had been crude at best, and the intervening years had left the insulation tape brittle and stiff. In addition, the breakers and fuses had been bypassed, so there was no telling what would happen if Oleg made a wrong move.
“We’ve been living in a minefield.” A terminal caught Oleg’s eye. “Cutting this should do it—probably.” Oleg took a pair of nippers from the tool kit.
“Not so fast. ‘Probably’ isn’t good enough,” protested Nikolai. “You need to be sure.”
“We don’t have time. It’s now or never.”
“Does this girl mean that much to you?”
“Please.” Oleg turned around, a weary look on his face. “I am not your personal property, Nikolai. I accepted your love, true. And I accept it even now. But this is something I do of my own free will. Freely, you understand?”
“Then why do you seem so happy to see her?”
“I was just being nice to the girl. What is strange about this?”
“Nothing. I only feared you might be…swinging back to the way you were before.”
“You’re letting yourself get carried away. Again. How many times have I told you this?”
Oleg looked away from the fuming Nikolai and went back to his work. Impatiently, he put his nippers to one cable. “And do not worry. This will work fine.”
Snik.
Then, an explosion in the distance.
[ACT 6]
YUKARI HEARD A tremendous bang, and her body slammed against the inner hatch. At the same instant, the lights on the air lock control panel went out, and Yukari was plunged into darkness.
“Oww! What was that?”
Yukari heard air leaking from somewhere nearby. Hurriedly she put on her helmet and lowered the visor. Turning on the light on her skinsuit, she spun to face the air lock controls—which were written in Cyrillic. She couldn’t read a word, and Oleg hadn’t bothered explaining the air lock’s emergency controls.
“We’re moving…”
The impulse that set the station in motion was large. The force of the acceleration would be enough to rip Mir apart at the seams.
Yukari shuddered.
The Russians had been trying to kill her, but something must have gone terribly wrong. It was the only explanation.
Yukari turned her attention to getting out of the air lock. She had no intention of staying on a sinking ship. If she could get back to Tampopo, she could buy herself another two hours.
Yukari rotated the handle on the outer hatch. As the hatch opened, air began to spill out. The black gulf of space did the rest of the work for her, forcing the hatch open.
The tether Nikolai had used to secure Tampopo was nearby. Yukari’s eyes followed the cable to its end, then froze.
“Tampopo…it’s gone!”
The tether ended abruptly several meters from the air lock. Yukari leaned out and looked around. She froze again.
“Where’s Mir?”
[ACT 7]
THE EMERGENCY CALL from TsUP came at 11:40 AM Solomon Islands time, the day after the launch.
“What do you mean Mir is breaking up?” Director Nasuda shouted into the phone. “I want answers, and I want them now!”
“We don’t know what’s happened yet. All of the station’s systems are off-line, and the explosive bolts connecting the Kristall-2 module have fired.”
“What kind of death trap are you people trying to pass off as a space station?”
“Each module is designed so it can be jettisoned in the event of an emergency. At this stage we’re not sure why that’s happened.”
“What about Yukari? Is she all right?”
“Yukari…Yukari was in Kristall-2 when it was jettisoned.”
“What?” Director Nasuda went pale. “Then get out there and rescue her! Your cosmonauts, they’re still alive?”
“They underwent rapid decompression and suffered some burns, but they survived. They’re evacuating in the Soyuz capsule now. Yukari was in her space suit at the time of the incident, so there’s a chance she’s still alive too.”
“You have to send your Soyuz to pick her up.”
“That is impossible.”
“Why?”
“The Soyuz has only enough fuel for the return trip. Even if she were right on top of them, you know how much fuel it takes to make a rendezvous.”
“All you have to do is get her back to Mir. The next ship can bring them back.”
“We don’t know what condition Mir is in. And even if we wanted to do an inspection, Nikolai and Oleg boarded the Soyuz without their space suits. With Mir off the table, we have to bring the Soyuz home.”
“Dammit!” Director Nasuda slammed the phone down.
“Yukari already used up twenty minutes of her backpack during the EVA,” said Kinoshita. “That leaves forty minutes. An hour if we stretch it.”
“Can we send the third ship to get her?”
Kinoshita nodded. “It’ll be close…We can just make a rendezvous. But without someone at the controls, we won’t be able to dock. If Mir can’t guide us in, the closest we can get is a couple of kilometers.”
Yukari’s space suit wasn’t equipped with thrusters, so they would have to pull up right on top of her.
“Hoi, then I can pilot the ship,” said Matsuri. “I just need to find Kristall-2 and take Yukari back to Mir. She can hold on to the outside of the capsule.”
“But we don’t even know if Mir is safe,” said Director Nasuda.
“The Soyuz can hold one more.”
“It’s no good. The Soyuz doesn’t have an air lock, so they’d have to let the air out of the capsule to bring Yukari aboard, and the cosmonauts don’t have space suits.”
“Right now, our only option is to use Mir as a lifeboat,” said Kinoshita. “It will take fifteen minutes to get Matsuri on board and launch the rocket, then another thirty to rendezvous if we wait until perigee for the main booster burn. Unorthodox, but it should work.”
“Can the main booster handle that?”
“Absolutely,” said Motoko. “It has an idle burn mode.”
“When did you add that?” asked Director Nasuda. Brushing his own question aside, he continued. “You’re up, Matsuri. Sorry for the short notice. Satsuki, get her suited up and on the launchpad.”
[ACT 8]
YUKARI DRIFTED ALONGSIDE Kristall-2. From out here, the module resembled a large concrete mixer.
They had jettisoned the whole module—but why? Had it been accidental or intentional? Were they really trying to kill her?
Yukari considered the possibility of some international plot, but then it occurred to her that the cosmonauts would not have had time to get directives from their government. So had they tried to kill her just to keep their sex lives private?
It didn’t seem likely, but she had no way of knowing now.
She tried the wireless transmitter on her backpack, but there was no answer. She hadn’t expected one anyway. The signal was very weak. All long-distance communications had to be routed through Tampopo.
Yukari felt her chest tighten. She looked down at the darkened earth below her, hoping she would get one last glimpse of the blue ocean. Nighttime only lasted thirty-five minutes at this orbit— she just wasn’t sure if she had that much oxygen.
Her heart leapt momentarily when she looked up and noticed a glowing red fringe on the outer shell of the Kristall-2, until she decided she wasn’t seeing the first light of dawn but the impact of thinly dispersed oxygen molecules against the metal hull.
“Looks like St. Elmo’s fire,” Yukari muttered to herself. “I thought that was supposed to signal the end of a storm.”
Yukari’s thoughts drifted until she saw an arc of light appear around the edge of the earth ahead of her. This time, dawn was breaking for real. The light grew until she could see a reddish glow paint the tops of the clouds and blue returning to the ocean.
She turned her eyes away from the suddenly brilliant light and noticed that she was surrounded by innumerable glowing particles, winking at her even in the vacuum of space.
It’s the star children, come for me…Yukari thought, her mind drifting into a fog. She felt a sensation as if someone were hugging her.
“Hoi, Yukari! You alive in there?”
“Kind of.” Don’t spoil the mood, Matsuri. This is just getting good.
Yukari shook her head. “Huh?” She looked over her shoulder and saw Matsuri with a capsule floating behind her. “What’re you doing here?”
“Taking you back to Mir, that’s what.”
“Mir’s okay?”
“Not sure. Guess we’ll have to go see. I brought an extra backpack, so let’s swap yours out. Then you’ll have to hang on to the capsule’s nose.”
“Oh—okay!” Yukari wasted no time in attaching the fresh backpack.
The oxygenated air hit her like a blast of ice water, and her mind began to race, wondering how launch control had managed to get the third ship up here so quickly. It was very nearly a theoretical impossibility.
Yet she looked at the side of the capsule and there it was—the nickname Coconut that Matsuri had given it.
“Getting ready to fire thrusters here, Yukari. You good?” Matsuri asked from inside the capsule. Yukari was straddling the cone of the capsule like it was a horse.
“I’m good. Keep it gentle.”
“Hoi.”
The capsule began to move. Gradually, they left the drifting fragments of Kristall-2 behind. Yukari waved goodbye to the star children, then turned toward the bright point of light shining in space ahead of them. “That Mir?”
“Yup. Or so Space Command tells me. We’ve got another thirty kilometers or so to go.”
“What happened to the two cosmonauts?”
“They’re in the Soyuz. They don’t know what’s happened to Mir either.”
Yukari frowned. She considered trying to contact the Soyuz on her radio but was hesitant. They were close enough to Mir to make out its shape when the Soyuz contacted them.
“You read, Yukari?”
It was Nikolai’s voice.
Yukari tensed, then answered, “I read you,” as calmly as she could manage.
“We are sorry about what has happened. I did not intend to frighten you. I…can look scary at times.”
Yukari listened in silence.
“We were trying to keep you from accidentally going outside, but we made an error and activated the module separation mechanism by mistake.”
“I…see.”
“Yukari, you must listen closely. If you see any light inside Mir through her windows, then there is a chance you can seek shelter there. If there is no light, then fixing the station is beyond our current capabilities.”
“Okay.”
“In that case, you will have to board the Soyuz. Know that we do not have space suits, so once you are aboard we will not be able to pilot the capsule for you.”
“Excuse me? What?”
“I have entered the return sequence into the computer. As long as you are able to communicate with the ground, you should be fine.”
The meaning of what the Russian was saying gradually dawned on her. “Wait…no. Your offer is declined!”
“You must accept, Yukari. Oleg feels this as strongly as I do. It is a matter of our pride as cosmonauts.”
“But, but I’m—” Yukari gritted her teeth. “I’m an astronaut too! If it’s a question of one person dying or two, I know the answer!”
“Yukari, you are still young.” Nikolai’s calm voice sounded in the speaker next to her ear. “We will not steal your future away from you. Especially considering the likely contribution you will make to space exploration.”
“But this will be my only flight.”
“This I doubt very much. Now, you are close enough to Mir. What do you see? Are there lights in any of the windows?”
Yukari strained her eyes. Not even the faintest pinprick of light came from within the space station.
“Yukari?”
“Nothing. It’s completely dark,” she said, her voice choking.
“Very well. Bring your craft alongside our Soyuz. We will be draining our air shortly.”
“No, Nikolai! Please, don’t!”
“Hoi, Nikolai?” It was Matsuri, her calm voice seeming almost comically out of place after Yukari’s panicked tension.
“What is it?”
“I’ve thought of a way to get Yukari into my capsule. Then we can all go back home.”
“You are sure?”
“That’s impossible, Matsuri!”
“No, no, it’ll work. I think. Trust me!”
The hatch on the capsule opened. Matsuri was inside, stooped over, fiddling with some equipment.
“What are you planning, Matsuri?”
“First, I’m getting rid of this,” she replied, tossing something out through the hatch. When Yukari saw what it was, she felt her heart stop.
“You can’t throw out the instrument panel!”
“Hmm. Still not enough room. Guess the whole electrical system’s got to go.”
“Whoa! Wait! Don’t tear the whole thing apart!”
“Don’t worry. It’s not that bad. We don’t need the computer. We can operate the fuse panel manually.”
“Matsuri, this is a reentry capsule you’re talking about, not some rowboat—hey!”
Matsuri had removed the entire avionics bay set behind the instrument panel and thrown it out into space where it floated, an irreplaceable jumble of specialized computers and wireless devices.
“That should do it. Come on in, Yukari. Let’s go home.”
“Matsuri!”
“No, really, I insist. Or would you rather have them take you on board the Soyuz?”
Yukari frowned, faced with a true life-or-death decision.
She had gone through more than her share of training runs where they had simulated computer failure and had them cut circuits and operate the craft manually. You could mostly figure out your attitude and position by using the onboard porthole to look at the land below you. She remembered Mukai saying that all the equipment inside the capsules were stand-alone components. Each one could be removed without harming the rest of the machinery. She just hadn’t imagined that all of them would be removed at the same time.
Reentry was no walk in the park. An object flying just shy of eight kilometers per second hit the atmosphere like a bug hitting a windshield.
The capsules were equipped with heat-resistant shields capable of withstanding flames as hot as a blowtorch, but if they came in at the wrong angle, the shields wouldn’t do them any good, and the capsule would burn to a cinder in the blink of an eye.
Without any transmitters left, even if they managed to survive reentry, they had no way of letting anyone know their position.
Miss their timing by even ten seconds and they’d overshoot their splashdown point by a whole eighty kilometers. Yukari had a hard time believing that a boat or helicopter would be able to spot their capsule—hardly larger than an old phone booth—at that distance. If they didn’t land exactly where the rescue team expected them to, there was a good chance they could be lost at sea.
Yukari glanced down at her left wrist. Her only chronograph was her Omega wristwatch. They would have to thread the needle with only this and a few fuse panel switches.
Of course, the Soyuz was still an option.
She shook the thought out of her head as soon as she had it. She wouldn’t expose two other people to the vacuum of space just to save her own life.
Yukari made up her mind, by herself. Just like a real astronaut.
“Commander Belyayev. I will be going home in this capsule.”
“You are quite sure about this?”
“Just watch us!” Yukari replied with an enthusiasm she didn’t feel.
Yukari stuck a foot inside the capsule, and Matsuri grabbed hold and pulled her in.
“Yipes! Tight fit.”
“C’mon, you can get in further.”
“It’s r-really cramped.” Yukari had to twist until she was practically sitting on Matsuri in order to get all the way inside.
“Yukari, the hatch.”
“Right.”
Air filled the capsule, and the two took off their helmets and backpacks, pushing them down by their feet.
“How are we ever going to time the deorbit burn? We have to adjust for load too.”
“That’ll be your department, Yukari. Just do it like Kinoshita taught you. I’m not really up on all that stuff—though I do have a calculator!”
“Well, that’s something.”
Yukari pulled the calculator and operation manual from the navigational aid pouch.
“I had them attach an orbital path chart at the end,” Matsuri told her. “We’re supposed to go down into the Arafura Sea on our second pass.”
“That’s right…here. We don’t have much time, do we.” Yukari began furiously punching numbers into the calculator. If she subtracted the weight of the equipment Matsuri had jettisoned from her own body weight, she found that the capsule was now five kilos heavier. She could use that to determine the deorbit burn timings and thrust. “I guess we have to do the burn over Brazil— in another six minutes, nine seconds.”
“How’s our attitude looking?”
“Fine, I think. Wait a second—my hip’s on the control stick.” She twisted a little, managing to lift slightly off the stick.
“Yukari, I can’t see the porthole from here. You’ll have to look at it for me.”
“Right…”
And so on they went, down through the long list of procedures and adjustments to be made.
Yukari looked between her watch and the manual as she gave directions. “…Three, two, one, cut engines!”
“Hoi.”
“Nitrogen blower, on.”
“Hoi.”
“Retract OMS nozzle.”
“Green light.”
“Close OMS bay. Check latches one through four.”
“Hoi. All green.”
It was a major feat for two people to do what a computer did in seconds. As soon as the deorbit burn stopped, the capsule began to descend. Yukari checked the angle of the horizon to make sure their orientation was good.
“Pitch control…plus two.”
“Hoi.”
“That’s too far. Minus one.”
“Hoi.”
“Just a little more!”
“How’s that?”
“Good…I think.” Yukari felt her own heart racing. “Can we go ahead and jettison our extra fuel now?”
“Can’t check from here. Your call.”
If they jettisoned their extra fuel, there wouldn’t be any more adjustments to their course. They’d be locked on their current trajectory, for better or for worse. But if they didn’t get rid of it, there was a chance it could ignite from the heat of reentry.
“Let’s ditch it. Open valves B5, B6. Quick.”
“Hoi.”
Yukari felt the first vibration as they entered the atmosphere over Mindanao.
“Here it comes.”
Faint at first, the vibrations steadily grew in intensity. Yukari suddenly became aware of Matsuri’s chest pressing against her back.
“Matsuri, you okay? I’m not squishing you, am I?”
“No problem here.”
“Okay, but—wait!”
It dawned on Yukari that pressures during reentry climbed to as high as 10 G. Their bodies together would weigh as much as eight hundred kilograms—and Matsuri was on the bottom!
“What are we going to do, Matsuri!? You’re going to be a pancake!”
“No worries. We Taliho women are built tough.”
“But still—”
The g-forces relentlessly increased. The window was already red with heat. Yukari panicked, but there was nothing she could do. She couldn’t even move. There wasn’t any space in the capsule that wasn’t directly on top of Matsuri. “No! I’m going to crush you!”
“No, you won’t.”
“Yes, I will!”
“Dad—” Matsuri seemed to be having trouble breathing. “Dad told me to look out for you, s-so don’t…worry…”
“Hey! No! Mat—”
An incredible rumbling vibration drowned out Yukari’s voice as the g-forces enveloped the capsule. Yukari felt herself being pressed down into Matsuri’s body. She tried to brace herself with her arms, but they were pinned by her sides.
After three minutes that felt like an eternity, the weight finally lifted.
Yukari called Matsuri’s name over and over, but there was no response.
“What is it with everybody sacrificing themselves? You’re not allowed to do that, okay? You’re not allowed to die!”
The capsule shot downward like an arrow, and Yukari wept until the last corner of her rational mind remembered something she had to do.
Yukari groped for the fuse panel, found the switch to deploy the parachute, and threw it. She felt several quick impacts as the capsule passed through the cloud layer, and the main chute opened only moments before they hit the surface of the water. After the floats had fully deployed, Yukari threw open the hatch and crawled out into the bright sunlight on the surface of the hull. Crouching, she reached back into the capsule and undid Matsuri’s harness, giving her a shake.
“Matsuri! Wake up!” Yukari wiped at her eyes and stared at her sister’s face. “Matsuri…”
Matsuri’s eyelashes twitched. Then her eyelids opened, and she stared straight up at Yukari with her large, catlike eyes. “Hoi? Yukari? Where are we?”
“Earth,” Yukari said with a sob. “We’re home.”
The sky and sea were blue as far as the eye could see. There was no land in sight. The two girls sat side by side on the capsule, feet in the water, letting the salty wind blow through their hair.
That blue, Yukari thought. It’s the same deep, equatorial, vibrant blue.
“You know,” she said, “we may not be too far off our splashdown point after all.”
Matsuri smiled. “I think you may be right.”
It was only a few moments later that they heard the whine from the turbines of an approaching helicopter.
[ACT 9]
BY THE END of the year, Maltide was the center of a worldwide media frenzy.
Director Nasuda’s announcement of a seven-figure price for a manned space mission that would have cost the space shuttle nine figures to pull off had shaken the space industry.
The cost of building satellites dropped like a stone now that follow-up maintenance was a real possibility. No longer did a company have one chance only to make a satellite that would never fail. This also brought down soaring satellite insurance premiums, cutting overall program costs by a third.
When the economic impact of the Solomon Space Association became clear, the Japanese government backed off their earlier threats of funding cuts and doubled funding for the coming year.
For Yukari and Matsuri, the media attention meant instant international stardom. But Yukari refused all the banquet invitations and parade plans, instead choosing to focus on getting ready for her return to school the following semester. Director Nasuda literally groveled at her feet to give at least one press conference, but she was unmovable.
She had had enough of parties.
What changed her mind was a short international phone call from her mother that came the day before she was to return to Japan.
“Your school found out about your job,” her mother told her. “You’ve been expelled.”
