Peter eventually had Galileo pointed at Iris before he fired the main thrusters for the final time, periodically applying his rotational thrusters to keep the nose of his ship aligned with the velocity vector on his display. In propelling his ship forward, he was actually slowing it down as it increased its orbit altitude. He had to constantly remind himself to breathe as he directed his attention to his monitors, occasionally looking out his window. When he reached the two hundred meter mark, he took in a big gulp of oxygen. He finally had a good view of his target; it was time to fly more like a pilot than a navigator. He turned his focus toward the images outside, flying more by instinct and feel.
The approach alert system started playing pinging sounds, increasing in frequency as he got closer to his target. Peter blurted out to the dummy, “Hey, earn your paycheck and read off the delta distance with Iris.” Once again, no response.
Galileo was now too close to Iris to use its powerful main thrusters, so Peter operated the linear thrusters to help guide the ship straight in. His target swelled in size. Luckily, he didn’t have to make any changes on his approach. His ship would be coming up from behind and under Iris, preventing Jesse or Blake from seeing it and determining it was manned. Anticipation grew as he studied the antenna hanging down under the ship. It seemed to tease him, daring him to pick it off. Piece of cake.
As he stared at the spacecraft positioned ominously above him, a sudden realization hit him. What if Jesse decided to rotate his ship to get a visual, creating the insurmountable task of trying to hit a moving target? He was already doing a first in space, purposely attempting to crash into a target on a spacecraft that was steady in flight. Trying to hit one doing a maneuver would take a miracle, and he was sure he was out of those. Plus, Jesse would undoubtedly detect Galileo was manned and broadcast his findings on the radio. Even if Peter dimmed the cabin lights, there would still be shadows from the glow of the display. Regrettably, he couldn’t just simply shut the shades since he needed to keep an eye on the antenna.
His one glimmer of hope was EarthOrbit’s mission control informing Jesse the unmanned spacecraft approaching was a SpaceQuest ship just trying to show off. Because of Iris’s tight fuel supply and its aggressive mission objectives, Peter was confident Jesse would be ordered not to waste fuel to get a visual. The question was, would he follow that order? If he, himself, was the commander, his curiosity would get the better of him. But Jesse was an ex-Navy SEAL, and one doesn’t get selected to such an elite task force by disobeying orders.
After a few tense minutes flying, Peter popped the switch to overload Iris’s backup radio with static noise. He was sixty meters out from his target. He took one last look at his display. His relative velocity was five meters/second. He was still coming in hot. He looked out to get a quick visual. The ship was angled just right so he quickly pushed a button to kill his rotation. He did a few taps on his reverse thruster and his heart started pounding. His full concentration was now through his window. It was time to see how good a pilot he was.
He sensed he was about twenty meters out while he worked to point the Whipple shield perfectly toward the three-foot round dish sticking roughly four feet off the Iris. Come on, Peter, don’t screw this up. His heart pounded wildly as he held both gloved hands steady on the controls, making minute corrections.
At ten meters out, he was impressed his ship was still right on target. Damn, Peter, good job. The looming shadow from the spacecraft above began to creep over his ship, but Peter’s attention never wavered from the antenna. Come on, baby. The front of his ship was going to block his view moments before impact, preventing him from seeing the hit. When he lost sight, he pushed himself tightly into his seat, preparing for the strike. He hoped for the best. A firm jolt confirmed he hit something. Sure hope I got that sucker.
Peter nervously waited out the next few seconds, confirming no further bumps or scrapes followed as the ship went into a slow spin. Relieved he cleared Iris with no further impacts, he swiftly started wrestling with the spacecraft to stop the rotation. He flashed a big grin when the metal dish flew past his window. He exuberantly raised his clinched gloved hand. That’s what I’m talking about. See-ya!
He was sure his friends were completely bewildered why another American ship just crashed into theirs, taking out their communication link to Earth. Peter hustled to maneuver Galileo into the right position with its window across from Iris’s. Once positioned, he promptly unhooked his seatbelt and snatched a flashlight, pen, and notepad. He peered out at the shiny spaceship floating eerily outside and saw a face staring back. He couldn’t make out whether it was Jesse or Blake. Peter first waved, but got no response. He quickly turned on the flashlight and pointed it toward the ship, sending an SOS first to get their attention. He was certain both men knew the international signal for an emergency. He kept repeating the message. Soon the head disappeared before reappearing, this time with a shining flashlight.
Peter set the notepad on his lap as he prepared to write down the coded message received. He adjusted his oxygen mask as he looked back out to see flashes of light already coming his way. He quickly wiped the beads of sweat off his forehead before calmly writing each letter down. It was obvious he was a little rusty as he struggled to interpret some of the quick flashes. He did the best he could. Once the message looked to be repeating, he looked at his notepad and chuckled at what was being asked. “Who the hell are you?” He was sure he was communicating with the straightforward commander.
Part of him wanted to jokingly respond, “Guess Who?” But he couldn’t waste time. Instead he was about to shock the hell out of both men. He started sending the signal, “Peter Novak. Bomb on Iris. Evacuate ASAP.”
After sending the message, Peter saw erratic movements happening inside. Then two faces peered back at him. They sent a response. “Your room number in Nevada?”
Peter was momentarily confused by the question. What the hell is he asking? He looked, but neither face budged. I guess they want proof it’s me. He quickly flashed his room number at the spaceport, “4.”
Flashes instantly returned. “How much time?”
Peter heaved a deep sigh. “Unknown. Evacuate ASAP. Have oxygen pack for Blake. Do not inform MC.”
One face disappeared as the other answered back. “Roger. Radio jammed.”
Peter responded. “Urgent. Tell MC nothing. Enemy listening. Radio will clear.”
“Roger. Keep MC in dark.” The head vanished.
Peter was sure the men were putting on their suits. He cut the transmission jamming their radio so Jesse could inform mission control all was okay. It was time for him to prepare to save his friends. He just hoped China wasn’t getting an itchy finger with a spaceship floating next to Iris.
KUANG RAN BOTH hands deep through his hair. Ming informed him the two American spacecraft were currently side by side in orbit. Kuang was convinced a rescue attempt was currently underway. He angrily snatched his phone.