“Put this on.” She told me, concern etched on her face. “We’ve had a coolant leak. Very toxic. We need to evacuate to the Russian segment immediately.” She pulled her own mask on before reaching for her flight suit and slipping into it. I did likewise. Aki emerged from her own cubicle, nodding at Natalya before reaching for her own mask. Once again, I was amazed at their coolness under pressure as they methodically ran through the relevant procedure for this eventuality. Natalya pointed towards the hatch into the adjacent module before propelling herself through the opening, Aki close behind. I pulled myself after them, following as we made our way towards the Russian segment.
As we passed through the Destiny lab, the lights flickered for a moment before shutting off and plunging us into darkness. Narrow shafts of light shined up through the small portholes in the floor of the module, casting a bright circle on the ceiling. I could feel my heart racing, wondering just what the hell was happening to the station. Emergency lighting winked on and while not quite as bright as the normal lighting, it was enough to continue on our way.
As we entered the Russian FGB module, Aki held up her hand.
“The hatch.” She told me, her voice muffled by the mask and barely audible over the sirens. She pointed behind me. “We need to seal off the rest of the station before the fumes spread.” I nodded my understanding and we pulled the panel down, closing and locking it. I hoped Morrison was already in the Russian segment. As we moved into Zvezda, I was relieved to see him gazing intently at one of the computer monitors.
“Mission commander, we’ve had a coolant leak in the vicinity of the Harmony node, perhaps from one of the three labs connected to it.” Natalya reported, tearing her mask from her face.
“I know.” Morrison replied, not looking up from the screen. “Several systems are offline, we have power outages across the station and we are losing pressure in the American segment. I suspect we’ve had multiple micrometeorite impacts and are venting into space. The coolant system has been compromised, which is why that side of the station is filling with ammonia gas.”
“Is the Russian segment intact?” Natalya asked him, glancing nervously about her as the lights flickered for a moment.
“It’s in better shape.” Morrison replied. “While we don’t appear to have a coolant leak or loss of pressure, the power levels have dropped all over the station. We are beginning to drift towards the Earth’s atmosphere and the station’s thrusters are offline. If we can’t bring them back online, we’ll burn up.”
“How long have we got?” Aki asked him.
“A few hours at most.” He replied.
“Can we repair the damage?” I asked him.
“Without mission control to guide us and without Flynn, who was the specialist…” Morrison sighed deeply, finally turning away from the monitor, his eyes meeting mine. “I don’t know. Guess we can give it the old college try.”
“We?” I replied, my voice flat, knowing what was coming.
“You stepped up before,” He reminded me, “And I need you to do it again. We’ll see if we can patch up this crate up.” While the thought of another spacewalk filled me with dread, the alternative, being roasted alive as the station plunged into the atmosphere, was even more terrifying.
“Okay, let’s do it.” I replied reluctantly.
The outer hatch of the Poisk airlock above Zvezda swung open and Morrison pulled himself out with a toolbox held in one hand. A tether connecting our spacesuits unravelled and stretched out in his wake. With a deep sigh, I pulled myself after him, the endless void of space filling my field of vision. Gripping a handhold, I swung myself after Morrison, down onto the dorsal side of Zvezda. The station seemed to be listing slightly in its orbit
“Damn, looks like that was some meteorite shower that hit us.” Morrison murmured. The surface of the remaining solar arrays were pockmarked and smashed and the exterior of the whole station was pitted and scarred.
“How has Zvezda remained intact?” I asked him.
“It’s the most important module, so the construction is a little more robust than the rest of the station.” He replied. “It’s also designed to be a refuge in situations such as this.” We crawled forward from handhold to handhold until we reached the edge of the FGB module. My pulse raced as I glanced down at the narrow Pressurised Mating Adaptor between the two segments of the station where I had so nearly died just two and a half months earlier.
“Don’t sweat it, Carter.” Morrison told me, propelling himself gracefully across to the Unity node and easily grasping the handhold I had been unable to keep a grip on. I followed him over the gap and we made our way across the top of the American segment, climbing down the side of the Destiny Lab beneath the huge truss that connected the solar arrays to the station. The American segment appeared to have taken the brunt of the damage and we could see air venting out into space from multiple locations.
“It’s worse than I thought.” Morrison told me.
“Story of my life.” I replied.
“There’s nothing we can do here.” He added, his voice flat. “There’s no time to patch up this many breaches and the thrusters look beyond repair. Come on, let’s get back to Zvezda.”
“We’ve lost the station.” Morrison told us as he climbed out of the spacesuit, pausing to let the words sink in. “We need to evacuate immediately.”
“So one of us will have to remain behind.” I murmured.
“Yes.” He replied, moving across to the computer monitor. “Goddamn it!” He yelled, thumping the screen, beginning to show the strain as his cool façade finally cracked. “A fire has broken out in the Columbus Lab. With the leak in the coolant system, some of the equipment must have overheated!” He glanced up as the lights flickered again, this time plunging us into darkness. Morrison’s monitor screen winked off and even the ever present background drone of the air conditioning system died, an eerie silence descending upon us.
“What’s happening?” Aki breathed, a trace of panic in her voice. My pulse raced and I could feel my heart thumping in my chest as we floated in the gloom of the dying station. Dim emergency lighting finally kicked in, bathing the concerned faces of the others in pale fluorescent light.
“Total power loss to Zvezda.” Morrison replied quietly. “Docking clamps for Soyuz separation is normally controlled from within Zvezda. We can switch control to the capsule controls, but not from here. Not without power. There’s a backup in the Destiny lab, but we know the American segment is filled with toxic gases, fire, smoke and very little oxygen.”
“Can we vent that half of the station and re-pressurise it long enough to reach the backup?” Natalya asked.
“It would take us several hours.” Morrison told us. “It’s time we don’t have. The station’s orbit is decaying rapidly. We’ll burn up before we can leave the station. Someone’s got to go in there and do it now.”
“What about the spacesuits?” I suggested.
“Too bulky.” Morrison replied. “They won’t fit through the interior hatches.” He sighed deeply. “If I could volunteer, I would.” he continued solemnly. “I’m in command now, so your lives are my responsibility and I would gladly go in your place. But as no one else can pilot the capsule, it must be one of you three. I’m sorry, I truly am.” While the cynical might suggest that it was nothing but an empty sentiment, I could see in his eyes that he meant it.
“We should draw lots.” Aki suggested. “The one who draws the short straw goes inside the American segment.” I nodded, wishing I had Morrison’s strength to volunteer, to make the ultimate sacrifice, but I desperately wanted a chance to live. Morrison pulled three narrow drinking straws from the food storage locker and tore one in half. He turned away for a moment before turning back, the straws clenched in his fist.