Гарри Гаррисон - Skyfall

“How do you plan to do that?”

“I have a steel rod I cut loose. That should do the job.”

“Good luck.”

Coretta and Nadya spoke as well and he nodded, half listening but did not answer. This was the last challenge. He held the bar in his left hand, he had no way to tie it down securely, which made moving about difficult. The line he had clipped to the ship prevented much movement, and he saw no way to unclip it, move, then reclip it with one hand. He opened the fastening and let it float free. On the base of Prometheus here Coretta could not see him so she would not know what he had done. And she did hold the other end of the nylon safety line. She could reel him in to safety if he did move free of the ship. He did not intend to. There were handholds enough here among the braces and pipes.

Handgrip by handgrip he worked up to the thrust chamber he wanted. The two-meter-high trumpet mouths of the other chambers were on all sides of him, the other pipes and gear beneath his clutching hand. When his head was over the open mouth of the chamber he stopped, held on firmly until all movement had been damped, then clipped back onto the ship. The opening was like a black O-shaped mouth before him. The extension light was on the left side of the AMU. With precise motions he transferred the steel rod and groped for the light. It flicked on and cast a disc of light onto the dark metal, lit only by Earthlight. He found the mouth of the chamber, aimed the light and gasped.

He had not expected this. Instead of the soot-lined cavity or the burned mouth of a rocket, here was a three-meter-long chamber like Aladdin's cave. It was smooth lined, shining with reflected light, filled up the center with a delicate crystal structure. This was the tube everyone had referred to so disparagingly as the light bulb. It was more like a crystal chest of diamonds, glinting and glowing with gem like sparkle as the bright light played across its surface. As he moved the light shadows and illumination changed and the colors flowed and merged.

“Will you be able to break it up there?” Patrick asked, his voice coming from a great distance.

Gregor sighed and forced himself to return to the reality of the situation. This was no cathedral to the glories of the gods of science. It was a demolition site.

“Yes, I should be able to,” he said.

With the light in his left hand he pushed the steel rod slowly through the opening, down its full length until it hit against the quartz and rebounded. Now the shadow of his arm and the rod changed the illumination even more and the colors and lights sparkled and spun.

For one moment more he looked at it — then struck out.

It was a slow motion ballet of destruction, independent of gravity and air pressure. When the steel struck the quartz fractured, particles and fragments moving out in all directions. The opening was about half a meter wide and Gregor had his arm in as far as it would go now, his body writhing slowly in reaction as his arm and the bar moved back and forth. When he finally looked in again the destruction was complete; only glittering fragments filled the chamber. He pulled out the rod and hurtled it from him, out into space, getting smaller and smaller until it vanished, still in orbit trailing behind Prometheus, though invisible now.

“It is done,” Gregor said, really speaking to himself though the others heard.

“Come on in, then,” Patrick said. “Right now if you're done.”

There was a strain, a touch of tension in his voice and Gregor heard it. He shrugged. Why not? There was tension enough for all of them. But had something new happened? His mind was on this, not what he was doing. He undipped his short safety line, pushed off towards the side of the ship, reached for a stanchion.

And missed.

Horrified, he watched the base slide by next to him, just out of reach, then the burnished side of Prometheus moved into view, the projecting hatch a good fifty meters away with the shining globe of Coretta's helmet protruding from it.

“You shouldn't be that far from the ship,” she said.

“Not ort purpose. I'm afraid I lost my hold.”

“I'll pull you in…”

“STOP!” Patrick shouted. “Don't do anything yet. There is no danger as long as the safety line is still attached. Is it, Coretta?”

“Secure both ends.”

“All right — describe to me exactly what you see, where Gregoris.”

“Well, he's just come into view now. Floating straight out away from the ship it looks.”

“How fast?”

“I don't know. It took maybe one, two seconds for all of him to come into view.”

“Good, very good.” Patrick guessed at Gregor's speed, the distance he had to go, then made a quick calculation. “Pull in the line slowly, until it's straight, just the slightest tension. When it's taut then pull in a yard more very slowly, take about three seconds to do it. Remember, it's not a matter of hauling him in, just starting him in the right direction. He can't get lost as long as the line is attached. The worst thing you can do is to get him moving too fast, slam him to the ship and the end of his arc.”

“There — it's done,” Coretta said.

“That's great. Now keep the rope as short as you can without exerting any more pull on him, just reel it in as he moves closer.”

It was frightening, though safe, Gregor had to keep telling himself that. But he was still moving away from the ship, though up along its length at the same time. Very logical, he must remember that, a simple problem in mechanics. He had originally imparted a motion away from the ship, Coretta had added a motion along its length. His direction now was a vector of those two forces, moving still away from the hatch, but along the ship towards it all the time. An interesting problem — abstractedly. Not so interesting when he was the weight at the end of the string.

Patrick strained to imagine what was happening, having only Coretta's description to guide him.

“Closer, “she said.

“Wait until he is even with the hatch — then stop taking in any more line. That will start him in an arc towards the ship. But do it gently or he'll speed up and slam into the hull. That is what we must watch out for.”

“Right — here goes.”

There was a gentle tug on the line on his belt — then Gregor found himself moving towards the hull again. He put out his arms, bent his elbows when he struck in slow motion, and absorbed the shock. Before he rebounded he grabbed an anchor ring nearby.

“Done it!” he gasped, victoriously.

“Come on in,” Patrick ordered, as tired as the others with the strain. He waited until Gregor was back at the hatch, securing the AMU, climbing inside, before he spoke again.

“Put some extra lashing on the AMU, then close the hatch,” he said.

“Why, what reason,” he asked. It was Nadya who answered him, speaking in quiet Russian.

“We talked to Mission Control while you were outside. There is a prediction now, about the atmosphere. They have an eighty percent estimate that we may impact at next perigee, in about ten minutes.”

“But that is one orbit too soon! On the next orbit the Space Shuttle will be here, we'll be taken off!” He looked around at the others, their faces dimly seen through the filters on their helmets.

“We know,” Nadya said simply. “Perhaps our luck has run out. A few more minutes will tell.”

Gregor started for the hatch. “I must go back, finish the HOOPSNAKE program.”

“No time,” Patrick said. “It will take too long. Let's see if we ride this out, then we can decide. What is the GET?”

“33:23,”Coretta said.

“Six minutes more. Then sixty-five after that if the Shuttle is launched on schedule.”

They could only wait then. For Patrick and Nadya it was harder to wait in the darkness.