J. Wheeler - The Krone Experiment

“A little,” came the concerned voice from the ground, “but more important is that it increases the chance that some of the power will fall in the interstices. The cracks between the mirror segments. The reflection will be imperfect there, a lot more absorption of energy, and the chance for some real damage. You’ll be a lot closer, so the power will be more concentrated anyway.”

“Copy that, control. What’s the recommended procedure?”

“Shuttle, no change, repeat, no change in procedure.” The voice lost some of its adopted authority. “Just a warning to be on the lookout. You’re going to have to tough this one out. Fer Chrissake, shield your eyes!”

Just before beginning the burn they darkened their faceplates. Jupp set the automatic sequence and the rockets fired, lifting them methodically to their rendezvous. Jupp kept an eye on the clock. He sang out “twenty-three minutes,” over the roar of the rockets. They closed their eyes and threw their arms over their faceplates. A minute passed. The rockets stopped. They floated in deafening silence for another minute. Somewhere just in front of them, at point-blank range, was the deadly Cosmos.

Finally, Wahlquist dropped his arms and turned again in his seat to look toward the man in the rear.

“Well,” he demanded, “what’s going on?!”

Without lowering his own arms, Newman could sense that Wahlquist had dropped his guard.

“No!” he cried. “Cover—”

But it was too late.

The beam seared out of the rotating satellite, sweeping rapidly but uniformly across the reflective face of the mirror, most of the power bouncing harmlessly off into space. The joint at the center where the mirror segments all came together reflected too little. It rapidly heated red then white hot. The laser pulse lasted only a moment, but as it died away a tiny hole was burned open, and the fading radiation passed through, racing to the shuttle beyond. There was insufficient energy to damage anything but fragile human tissue, but enough for that. Wahlquist had averted his gaze when the beam struck, but it did him little good. Wahlquist neither heard nor felt the impact on his face nor deep in the base of his retinas. He saw the flash, the last thing he would ever see. He knew that immediately and screamed his bitterness.

“AAAGH! I’m blind!”

Jupp lowered his arms and tried to turn to his companion.

“It may be temporary.”

“No, goddamn it! I know it! I’m blind!”

The cold voice cut in.

“Major, we must move quickly. If he’s disabled, you must help me into my EVA pack. I’ve got to get out there now!”

“But he’s injured!”

“We can’t help him! We’ve got a job to do. And precious little time to do it in. Another shot like that and we’re all fried. Help me with that pack. That’s an order!”

Jupp unbuckled and pushed out of his seat with his left hand, keeping a grip on a handle in the armrest on his right so that he pivoted, floating toward his copilot. He steadied himself by grabbing the armrest on the other chair and stared into Wahlquist’s sightless eyes.

“Larry,” he said firmly into his helmet’s radio, “you’ll be in shock, take a pill and sit quietly. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Jupp gripped his friend’s padded shoulder with gloved hand and then worked his way to the rear of the cabin using convenient holds in the deck. He dropped down through the hatch in the floor that led from the flight deck to the mid-deck. Newman was already disappearing into the airlock that gave access to the cargo bay. Jupp waited for him to clear the airlock then passed through himself. Newman worked his feet into special braces in the deck that would hold him as they fitted the pack, then he twisted sideways to reach the extra-vehicular activity packs fastened to the bulkhead. He unbuckled one pack and lifted it from the rack, passing it around behind him. Jupp moved in and adjusted the pack into the special braces at the rear of the man’s suit and fastened the clamps. Over his headphone he could hear Wahlquist reporting his condition to mission control.

“Okay, Major,” the Colonel growled when he was satisfied. “There’ll be some changes in the plans. Their rotating craft complicates my work, but gives us an advantage. You get back into the cabin. The laser fires out the side, in the plane of rotation. As soon as you can make out the orientation, you move us to just below it. That way they can’t take a shot at the shuttle without changing the plane of rotation. That’s harder for them to do than shooting at a target anywhere in the plane of rotation, so you’ll be out of the line of fire, and I’ll be able to go straight up out of the bay. You got that, Major?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve got it,” Jupp replied, striving to contain his resentment at taking orders on the ship he piloted.

“Okay. You holler when you’re in position. I’ll go in along the rotation axis; anywhere else, I’d get swatted away like a fly. I’ll have to go without the umbilical. It’d get twisted like a spring as soon as I latched on.”

“Without the umbilical?” Jupp’s voice betrayed his shock. “If you lose your grip, get flung off, you’re gone!”

“I know my job, Major. If I lose my grip, we’re all gone.”

Jupp looked at the stern face, barely visible behind the darkened faceplate, and then yanked himself into the airlock. He floated up through the hatch to the flight deck and worked his way to the seat and buckled in. A glance at the clock showed that four minutes had passed since the blast that had blinded Wahlquist. Perhaps twenty more until the laser recharged.

Jupp took a few seconds to orient himself and then let out an exasperated sigh. All he could see out the window was the back of the mirror. He had to move it, but the controls for the boom to which the mirror was attached were twelve feet away at the rear of the flight deck. You weren’t supposed to have to fly and handle the boom all by yourself, he thought.

Wahlquist sensed his presence and reached out an arm, grabbing Jupp for reassurance.

“What’s happening?”

“I’ve got to move the mirror and then do a little flying. With them spinning we can duck down under and hide from the laser.”

“Listen, I’m okay now,” Wahlquist said. “Talking with control calmed me down. I’ve got a good feel for that boom, and you can fly better if you’re not jumpin’ up and down. Why don’t you tell me what you want done with the mirror, and I’ll handle that part?”

It made sense; the mirror only had to be lifted out of the line of sight.

“Okay, buddy. You’ve got it.”

Jupp unbuckled Wahlquist and floated him around the passenger seat and over the open hatch in the floor to the control panel at the rear of the flight deck. The rear facing windows that opened to the cargo bay were now an unnecessary luxury for his friend, Jupp mused as he planted Wahlquist’s feet on the anchoring velcro pads.

“Can you get your hands on those controls?”

Jupp watched as Wahlquist felt around the control console in front of him. He fought the instinct to grab the sightless hands and guide them to the controls. Wahlquist found the recess after only a long moment and settled his hands around the reassuring familiarity of the controls. Jupp regained his seat.

“All right,” he said, “lift the boom straight up ninety degrees.”

He watched as the mirror lifted methodically from his line of sight. They were still upside down and as the view from the windows was cleared he could see the spectacular spread of Earth out the tops of the windows.

“Okay, that’s good,” he said when the boom was overhead, pointed directly at the Earth below. Straight out the nose was the blackness of space.