Russ paced; he had a headset on that plugged into one ear, but there could have been a brass band in the corridor and he wouldn’t have paid it any attention.
He saw Anne Peterson standing silently off to his side, unblinking, and he bet holding her breath. She wasn’t really part of the control team, but he cut her some slack since she and Mitch were an item. Besides, her medical knowledge of the crew and technical knowledge of the craft were always welcome.
Russ watched Mitch in the cockpit attempting to maintain course parity and speed with the object as it approached. He then switched to examine an external feed and saw the longish shape tumbling inexorably toward them — its approach puzzling, as it was inescapable.
Russ clicked his tongue. He’d be happy if the thing kept right on going past them and his astronauts didn’t have to bring it in — risk upon risk upon risk. If there were any other way around it, he would never have agreed to them trying to catch it in space like some sort of second baser landing a fly ball. But the thing was homing in on their craft, so it was either grab it or wear it.
Russ rubbed his chin nervously and switched back to the payload area. The bay doors were slowly opening like long, oblong petals revealing the dark vacuum of space. Everything moved in slow motion — the doors, Beth and Gerry tethered to the inside of the bay, and now the telescoping robotic arm. He suddenly found he was chewing the corner of his nail, and dragged his hand away from his face as he watched the arm continue to gently extend. The multi-billion dollar, multi-purpose limb could pivot, pound or secure, and its tip could be fitted with everything from a screwdriver to a three-pronged claw. It was the world’s most expensive Swiss army knife. The arm was now fully extended, three titanium composite fingers flexed open and closed a few times, and then waited, ready.
The bay-area camera showed the golden upturned face shields of the two astronauts as they watched the approaching object. Gerry stood well out of the way while Beth had both her hands on the arm controls, working the twin joysticks like a gaming-console player.
They all knew this was a one-time deal — if Beth missed, then there would be no reload. Come on, Beth, he prayed. You can do it.
Every proximity alert they had was blinking or bleeping at them, warning about the fragment bearing down on the shuttle’s body — the inevitable proximity junction was upon them.
The feed switched back to the object — so close now Russ could see the pocks, ridges, and what could be blotchy areas of discoloration. The thing looked solid and heavy, and given it was only thirty-eight percent ferrous material, with the rest unknown, he wondered if they had underestimated its true weight and mass. He hoped Beth would be able to hold on to it if it turned out to be heavier than their analytics software had extrapolated.
It bore down on them. He switched to the bay-area camera. Beth was moving the robotic arm. He waited, feeling his gut churn. The object was filling the screen — purple-gray, strangely not tumbling anymore, but simply floating toward them as though it was slowing down — coming in for a soft landing or had its magnetic field somehow stopped its roll?
Small puffs from the jets angled the Orlando into an ever so slightly better position, and Russ held his breath as it neared — 500 feet, 400, 300, 200, 100. Now down to yards. He heard Beth’s voice, talking to herself, or maybe the fragment, as she coaxed it into the claw.
Then she had it.
The object was caught by one end in the pincers. Applause broke out in the NASA control room, but the cool and controlled language in the orbiter didn’t match it.
“Bringing it in,” Beth said as the arm slowly retracted. She carefully folded the arm back in on itself and laid the object gently into a cradle on the payload bay floor, keeping the pincers engaged.
The cameras zoomed in on the object and Russ squinted. There was glinting coming off some sort of crystalline structure on its surface, and the discoloration he had seen now almost looked like some sort of fluid leakage — impossible in space.
Gerry immediately started the overhead door closing routines and then rushed to lock the object in place.
Commander Mitch Granger smiled and nodded at the cargo bay screen. “Atta girl.”
The darkness of space was shut out as the bay doors gently closed. He then swiveled one of the cameras toward the object and enlarged the frame. It was longer and squatter than he expected — more pod-shaped, rather than a shard of something that had broken off. He saw the discoloration on its surface — perhaps some sort of ancient oxidation?
A small pain began behind his eyes followed by a sound, or rather sensation, in his head akin to a soft buzz or thrumming. Stress, Mitch concluded.
“Talk to me, Beth.”
The mission specialist floated over to it, and held up a scanner. “It’s hot.”
Mitch groaned. “What’s the count?” If it was too hot, they’d have to keep their damn suits on from now until they got home.
“No, not radiation, that’s bang-on the astral background count, but I mean it’s physically hot.” She held up a hand just hovering over the object. “I can feel it right through my glove. It’s got to be 120 degrees, maybe more.”
“Is it a stable or fluctuating heat?” Mitch’s eyes narrowed.
He waited.
“Huuuh? Oh, stable, for now I… I guess” Beth responded. “But, strange.” Her voice sounded dreamy, and she continued to hold her hand up before the fragment.
Mitch leaned a little more toward his screen. “Okay, that’s close enough.”
Gerry joined her, but just stood silently staring at the rock.
“If the object is secure, please return to the cockpit.” Mitch cleared his throat and waited. “Gerry, Beth, can you hear me?”
The pair ignored him; worse, he could see Beth’s hand began to move closer to the space rock.
“Mission specialist Bethany Power, do not touch that object. Do you read?”
There was a skittering sound from behind him and he looked over his shoulder to see the three mice going crazy in their glass tank. But that only drew his eyes to the next container, and caused his brow to deeply furrow — the giant earthworms were all up from the soil and had piled up on one side of their glass container. Also, the ants had created a mesh-like structure with their bodies. They weren’t moving, but instead were lumped against their wall that was closest to the rear hatch. It was if they were frozen, watching and waiting for something.
Mitch turned back and licked dry lips. “Beth, this is a direct order — do not — touch — that goddamn…”
“I just… can’t… oh-oooh, wait.” Beth seemed to crane forward.
“Magnify Beth’s hand, times ten,” Mitch ordered. Ripley immediately complied and zeroed on Beth’s gloved hand. He saw Beth’s fingers inching closer to the sparkling fragment of asteroid.
Mitch cursed. “Magnify, times twenty.” The screen images increased in size again. “What the…?” There seemed to be a tendril coming from a small fissure in the rock. It wavered for a moment as if testing the air, before becoming rigid as Beth’s hand approached.
“Beth, watch out!”
The tendril sprung forward like a piece of elastic, striking her fingertip. She screamed and pulled, back, but amazingly the tendril stuck, and then thickened, spread and continued to hang on.
“Hey!” Gerry sprinted toward her.
Beth screamed again, as a pulse passed through the Orlando and the cameras whited-out.