Robbins turned slightly green. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I didn't know." She eyed the ominous depression. "You'd think they'd put some sort of safety shield over a control as critical as that. There should be..."
She stopped in midsentence, having espied something she hadn't seen since she'd first stepped aboard the shuttle. It was Boston Low. He was smiling. Striving mightily not to, and failing. It had welled up within him and was threatening, despite his best efforts, to break free.
The sun was coming up over the terminator line, and with it dawning realization.
"Hey, wait a minute." Her gaze shifted from mission commander to copilot and back again. "Something that sensitive would be protected from casual contact. Hell, I bet it wouldn't work outside the atmosphere anyway. It wouldn't even be operated manually, because in an emergency you wouldn't have time to activate it and..."
Borden couldn't hold it in anymore. He burst out laughing, only to have it echoed by Miles. "Hey," she shouted forward, "pack it in, Ken. Don't you know that unrestrained levity is against NASA in-flight regulations?"
"Put me on report!" Tears were streaming down the copilot's face. That is, on the ground they would have been streaming. In the cockpit they broke away in tiny perfect globules and went bobbing off in all directions, eventually to be captured by the ship's disapproving cleaning and purification system.
"Besides, I'm being comparatively restrained. Boston's the one you need to report." A cackling Borden nodded in the Commander's direction. "You know Boz. When he hears something funny, he just can't control himself. I mean, look at him! It's positively obscene."
Low shot his friend a glance. He didn't exactly collapse under the weight of unrequited hilarity, but something not unlike a chuckle did finally escape from his quivering lips.
Robbins actually blushed slightly, then nodded portentously. "That's right, have your little joke. I'll see that this is reported appropriately."
"See that you do." Borden wiped at his eyes with the back of one hand. "I always like to see credit given where it's due."
The last of the tension broken, Low called back to the others. "Cora, Ludger, how are you two doing?"
"We're fine, Boston," Miles responded. "The arm system checks out perfectly. Other than that, I just want to go on record as saying how much I enjoy shepherding such a nice, safe cargo and to remind anyone listening that my will and testament can be found in my safe-deposit box at the Bank of Galveston, Second Street and Houston.
"Unofficially, I'd rather deal with nuclear explosives than certain people in Washington." She nodded toward their resident scientist. "But you wouldn't know about that, would you, Ludger?"
"Nein? You should try securing a reasonable appropriation from the EEC Committee on Space. Believe me, Brussels is as difficult to work with as Washington, plus you are expected to work in six languages. The only difference when scientific appropriations are involved is that Americans yell and scream at each other all the time, whereas Europeans only do so in public and then go out peacefully together to enjoy expensive gourmet meals at the public's expense. I've shared some of the best wine and food of my life with people who had just spent the entire day deriding my requests for a few extra pounds, guilders, deutsche marks or francs for additional research. If I was given half the money Brussels bureaucrats spend on meals and after-hours entertainment in one year, I could fund my own laboratory."
Miles chuckled sympathetically, then turned serious. "You really think this will work, Ludger? I know what all the experts have said." She nodded in the direction of the nearest port and its panorama of the rotating Earth. "But they're down there now and we're up here. How about an uncensored opinion?"
Brink replied with ducal gravity. "The calculations have been run thousands of times, the simulations hundreds of times. They insist this will work. There is no question in my mind that if the power of the explosives has been properly gauged and they are correctly emplaced, the orbit of the asteroid can be adjusted."
Miles nodded. "Me, I'll be glad when it's over and done with."
"We all will." Brink's smile was pleasant enough, she thought, but lacking in something. Energy, perhaps, or enthusiasm. It had been adequate, however, to charm millions out of various government agencies in a dozen countries.
"What's wrong, Cora?" Borden glanced back from the copilot's chair. "Afraid that if something goes wrong, it'll cost you the election?"
"Actually, I should be, but I'm not. You know me, Ken. When we're out here, nothing else matters except the job."
"Yeah, sure," he deadpanned.
"This is not only exciting," announced Robbins, "it's fun. They don't tell you about that part." She continued to acclimate herself to the wonder of weightlessness, using the handholds to pull herself back and forth through the cabin, occasionally hanging upside down like a bat with her feet touching the ceiling. Everyone knew she didn't belong aboard, including Robbins herself, but her enthusiasm was infectious. It made it hard to take umbrage at her presence for very long.
Following Borden's little joke, she was careful not to touch anything, not even those controls whose function she knew for certain. With only five of them aboard, there was plenty of room for a novice to explore. The compact recorder she carried hummed incessantly.
Throughout the approach Borden continued to whistle obscure classical tunes, make jokes, compose limericks, and in general act as if he were embarked on a weekend excursion in the Adirondacks. It contributed to a work environment that was relaxed and short on stress in a way no official NASA program could duplicate.
At the same time, the copilot executed his official functions smoothly and efficiently. Low knew he didn't have to watch or otherwise check up on his colleague. If anything went wrong, he and the younger man would spot it simultaneously. Unbeknownst to either, they were fondly referred to by the rest of the mission team as the Boy Scout and the Undertaker.
At this point the shuttle was virtually flying itself. There was nothing to do now but wait until they caught up to the target when it swung back in close to Earth from the apogee of its orbit. Low leaned back in his straps, watching the heavens for the one point of light that would be moving faster than any of the others.
Even Borden went silent when it finally appeared on their screens. There had been several unmanned flybys of asteroids out in the Mars-Jupiter belt. Robotic spacecraft took excellent pictures but fared poorly when it came to expressing a sense of wonder. This was the first time in mankind's history that such an object had been seen close-up by the unaided eye.
Miles and Brink joined Robbins in hovering behind the pilots' seats so that they could share in the historic first sighting. When she finally broke the ensuing silence, the journalist's words did not exactly rank with those of Armstrong or Glenn.
"Doesn't look like much. Just another star."
"It's still a ways off." Miles jostled gently for a better view. "Don't worry. It'll resolve itself soon enough."
"We are blessed, my friends." Brink could not keep a certain Teutonic solemnity from his voice. "We will be the first humans to set foot on such an object."
"Right." Borden deliberately mimicked the scientist's tone. "And then we're gonna blow a couple of big holes in it. That's humans for you."
"So it is. But first we will learn what we can from this little piece of interplanetary pavement."
"Little?" Robbins twisted to eye the scientist.
"By cosmic standards our visitor is nothing more than a speck of dust, Maggie." Eyes shining, Brink turned to stare at the approaching dot of light. "Yet from that speck we may glean clues as to how the planets were formed, why their chemistry is what it is, and so much more. You must understand that I have devoted my life to the study of such bodies, forced to work only with photographs and the occasional small piece purchased from crazy adventurers like that Arizonan Haag, never dreaming that one day I would be able not only to touch the actual object of my obsession but to stroll upon its surface." For a w
hile it was silent in the cabin.
"From a scientific standpoint, what we are going to do is criminal. From a social standpoint, it is inevitable. But afterward, if all goes as planned, the object will remain in place for us to study. We will transform this visitor from the outer regions from a threat to a gift. It is a bequest from the void, unsolicited and astonishing. A package of wonders yet to be opened. We should all give thanks for its coming."
"We will," conceded Miles, "as soon as we've made sure the parcel doesn't go off in our faces. I don't think people would've been as grateful if instead of going into orbit it had come straight down into, say, France."
Brink's enigmatic grin returned. "That would depend on whom one asked." For just the briefest instant, Robbins wasn't sure if he was joking or not.
Their trajectories unimpeded by resistance of any kind, the distance between shuttle and visitor shrank with gratifying predictability. The dot became an oval, then a solid shape possessed of a visible outline. It acquired depth, and shadows. Low and Borden adjusted the shuttle's attitude, slowing it down and bringing them steadily closer to the silent, dark visitor.
Miniature peaks and valleys became visible on the surface, along with evidence of multiple meteorite impacts. None of the craters were very deep, none of the twisted crags very high. A shrunken version of the moon, it was still more than big enough to dwarf the rendezvousing shuttle.
Robbins wrestled with ancient terrestrial fears as the visitor loomed over them, striving to remember that it could not fall down and crush the shuttle because it was not truly "above" the shuttle, any more than they were drifting below it. Their positions were relative to each other and little else.
Having matched velocities, Low and Borden carefully brought the ship to within a prearranged distance of the tormented, stony surface. The asteroid's minimal gravity did not affect their maneuvers.
Low wasted no time savoring the historic moment. As soon as they'd reached the predetermined position, he began slipping out of his harness.
"Let's get going. Ken, she's all yours. Ludger...?"
"I am way ahead of you, Commander." Brink was pulling himself toward the rear of the cabin.
With Miles's assistance, the two men began slipping into their suits. Low pushed his feet down into the integral boots. "Remember, Ludger, the sooner we finish what we came for, the more time you'll have to conduct studies. But that doesn't mean we're going to rush it."
"I have no inclination to do so, Commander." The scientist eyed Low unblinkingly. "I am perfectly willing to save the Earth before I begin my real work. Even France."
Low slipped his right hand into the glove end, wriggled his fingers experimentally. "If you see me doing something you think is wrong, don't hesitate to point it out."
"I am not shy about such things, Commander. I expect the same critical treatment from you. We cannot afford any errors." Miles was checking the readouts and connections on the back of his suit, making certain all seals were tight and that the redundant air supply system was fully operational.
"This will be very different from floating outside Mir," Brink commented. "We will be making for a destination."
"Not to mention a delivery," Low added tersely.
The scientist helped Miles position the helmet over his head and draw it down toward its seals. "There is that added spice. I hope you won't allow me to become distracted." His eyes were shining as he and Miles fitted the helmet in place. When he spoke again, Low heard him via the suit radio.
"This is, after all, the culmination of my life's work. Is it similar for you, Commander?"
"No. For me it's just another job."
"That is fine with me. I will be struck dumb with wonder, and you will be blase. It is an apportioning I find agreeable. Each of us will achieve satisfaction in their own way."
They were ready. A final check of communicators, air and temperature settings, and then it was time to enter the compact airlock. Throughout the entire suiting-up procedure Robbins had hovered nearby, out of the way but within viewing range, her recorder humming relentlessly. Every hour she snapped it into a designated transmission port, where the contents were converted to digital signals and flashed groundward.
At least he wouldn't have to deal with her once he and Brink were outside, Low mused. No distractions could be permitted. They were about to take one hell of a shovel to an alien sandbox.
Once inside the airlock, he studied Brink closely. There was no indication that the scientist's excitement was affecting his actions. A better indication would come later, when it would be possible to see how much air he was using.
As soon as the lock had been cleared, they opened the outer door and moved out into the yawning payload bay. The Earth gleamed exquisitely below them, framed by the black of space.
Using the suit's attitude jets, he turned slowly, and there it was, hanging overhead. It was as if the moon had suddenly plunged toward him. For an instant he was shaken, but it passed quickly.
Brink was already unsealing the digger, the special device designed to plant the explosives, and Low moved to help. The unit was as compact as its official name was long. Upon hearing it, Borden had instantly shortened it to "digger", and so it was subsequently known to all involved in the project. In space there was no time to waste on protocol, whether human or mechanical.
Since Brink was more familiar with the device, he let the scientist do most of the work, helping when and where requested. It was not complicated. It couldn't be, given the limited time allotted to the task. They had to plant the explosives, retreat to a safe distance, and fire them before the bolide careened back out into space on its wild path.
Then they were heading up, toward the asteroid, the digger supported between them.
CHAPTER 5
They had no trouble securing it to the stony surface, once Brink had paused long enough to do a headstand and caress the rock with both hands. They waited while the machine did its job quickly and efficiently, excavating a sure slot for the explosive. Drifting down to a second preselected location on the surface, they repeated the sequence before starting back to the shuttle.
Once the unit had been restowed and locked down, they removed two remarkably small packets from a thickly padded container and retraced their path. Each package was roughly the size and shape of a scuba diver's tank. Working smoothly together, they emplaced the first in its waiting hole, then the second. Shaped charges, each was designed to thrust most of its energy away from the body of the asteroid, giving it a forceful shove without shattering the whole into dangerous fragments.
Despite the thousands of simulations, Low knew there was always the chance that the computers and their programmers had overlooked something, knew that disaster of varying magnitude was always a latent possibility. In which event he might as well stay in orbit and never return to the ground. No one had yet lynched an astronaut, he assured himself coolly, but there could always be a first time.
Am I the fatalist everyone claims, he found himself wondering? He shrugged it off. This was neither the time nor the place for personal introspection. He could do worse than reflect on the confidence everyone else seemed to have in him.
Brink worked confidently and efficiently, with nary a wasted move or gesture. Only in the scientist's eyes was there any indication that he was thinking about anything other than the task at hand. Low knew the other man was counting the minutes until he could return to the asteroid and commence his studies. He envied him his enthusiasm. That was a condition Low, too, had once suffered from, but had subsequently lost. He had to admit he wouldn't mind finding it again.
He doubted he'd locate it on the visitor, though. To Brink it was the culmination of all his dreams, a mile-wide Christmas present. To Low it was ... a rock. No trees, no crabs, no seals, no crying gulls, no blue sky ... he had to smile. Gray sky, anyway, this time of year. But better than black. He loved the fog. It shut out the night sky and kept the Earth close.
Here I am wondering if h
e's being diverted and I'm going on like a bad poet. Deliberately, he made himself focus on securing the last of their gear.
Then they were back in the airlock, holding while the shuttle breathed on them, waiting for pressure to equalize. It was a relief to reenter the main cabin. Miles was waiting to help them.
"You all right, Ludger?" he asked as soon as their helmets were off and they could once more speak without the aid of transmitters.
Despite the best efforts of his suit systems, the scientist was sweating heavily. "I'm fine, Commander, danke. I think we have done our work well." He glanced at a wall chronometer. "We are easily within the assigned time parameters." As he began to slip out of the suit, he added, "Did you know, Commander Low, that I have an unconscionable fear of heights?"
Low blinked. "No, I didn't know that."
"It stems from when I was six. My father dragged the family to the top of Koln cathedral. I was forced to 'enjoy' the view. It is a fear that has been with me ever since, but a simple one to defeat. You simply do not look down. Up here, of course, every way is down. Interestingly it confuses the fear as well as the mind."
"I wouldn't have guessed." Low stepped out of his suit and pushed off forward. "How're things on the ground?"
"Houston's running final checkout on your delivery." Borden was more subdued than usual. "Site-positioning lines up. You were off by less than half a meter on both locations."
"Naturally." Brink was mopping his face with a special absorbent towel.
"What happens now?" Robbins was hovering nearby.
"As soon as Houston gives us the all-clear," Borden told her, "we back off to a safe distance. Actually we'll be dropping down and moving forward to a safe distance."
"And then?"
"We wait. Houston will detonate the explosives. If everything goes as planned, the object's orbit will be stabilized and it will stay with us instead of flying back out into space. At that point we'll be able to rematch trajectories and hang with it for as many orbits as we're cleared to do."