As he approached the outside edge of the bell-shaped adaptor section in the dimming sunlight, he was greeted by an unwelcome surprise. To his shock, hundreds of dangerously jagged tooth-like metal edges lined up all along the entire rim of the metal ring. Mission planners had failed to prepare Tom for this unexpected obstacle. The razor-sharp barrier was the aftermath of the Titan rocket ripping away. If just one of those pointed teeth punctured Tom’s spacesuit, he would be dead within minutes.
Preferring not to alarm mission control and chance his spacewalk being cut short, Tom kept quiet as he analyzed the situation. Drawing from his recent experience floating around in space, he felt he could safely maneuver around the edge without his umbilical cord or himself coming into contact with any of the sharp edges. Confident it was a safe bet, he decided to give it a go.
After placing supporting wires meticulously over the treacherous edge, Tom expertly maneuvered over the lip into the dark abyss beyond. Holding tightly onto a handhold, Tom flipped up his sun visor to get his first look at the ghostly machine as it sat patiently in the darkness. The contraption seemed to be challenging Tom, as if it had a mind of its own. He had a love-hate relationship with the metal device. He had spent more time with the apparatus over the last six months than he had with his wife. Sometimes the jet pack cooperated during training, but at other times it was as stubborn as a mule. Tom was determined to control the beast this time around.
With a limited supply of oxygen, Tom was on the clock. He had to stay on a strict timeline if he wanted any shot at flying the machine. He had to be fully strapped in and ready to go when their spacecraft entered daybreak, less than thirty minutes away. He was in a race against the sun.
Sweating profusely, he worked hand-over-hand through the darkness along a small railing into the recessed area until he was positioned next to the jet pack. Unfortunately, only one of the tiny lights in the spacecraft’s flared back end worked, giving off light no brighter than a candle. To compound matters, his visor was starting to fog up with condensation due to his heavy breathing. Unable to see, he was forced to navigate by memory through the dark shadows, working more by feel, which was a challenge in his bulky gloves. Come on, Tom, you can do this.
Tom had practiced strapping himself onto the AMU hundreds of times, even doing it weightless aboard a cargo plane flying in arcing parabolic dives. But he was not prepared for the full effects of Newton’s laws. Every time he tried to turn a knob, his body would rotate instead of the knob. He was forced to work with only one hand while he held himself steady with the other, something he had rarely practiced. The overall job was made even more taxing with his suit wanting to stay in its designed ballooned position, fighting every simple move he made. Easy tasks were becoming practically impossible.
After five minutes of struggling, he was finally on the AMU’s saddle seat, secured by a common seatbelt fastened around his lap. He was going wherever this wild bull rocketed.
The moment of truth had arrived. This baby had to power up, or he wasn’t going anywhere. He clenched his jaw before clicking the power switch. Through his fogged visor, Tom could see flickering lights glowing off the machine’s small control panel, triggering a surge of relief through his body. Yes!
Tom spent the next fifteen minutes struggling to replace the ship’s umbilical cord with the AMU’s smaller cord. This was an exercise he had often completed in a couple minutes on Earth. Staying calm, he eventually unhooked himself from the ship’s lifeline and connected up to the machine, relying on it to feed him the needed oxygen, communications and electrical power. The AMU umbilical cord connected to a two-way radio that only worked by a line of sight signal, which only his commander, Sam Cunningham, could hear. Sam was fully suited up, sitting in the left seat of the spacecraft, monitoring the controls and keeping NASA updated on Tom’s progress. The radio was designed to work perfectly when Tom was flying around on the jet pack. But behind the ship, it was practically useless.
Tom went about working through the many steps he needed to complete before the bird could fly. His commander occasionally broke his concentration, checking on his progress. Because of the terrible radio transmission, Tom often had to yell or repeat his response several times, which was always the same, “Going as planned.” The fact was, he was already wiped out, but he couldn’t let on. If Sam knew how dire things were, he would call off the test.
When Tom finished the last step, he couldn’t believe he had beaten the sun. But he was too beat to celebrate. His heartbeat was probably triple his normal rate and his visor was completely fogged over. The only good news was that after hooking up the AMU umbilical cord, NASA was no longer receiving readings from his body sensors. Mission control was completely in the dark on how bad his physical condition was. If they knew, they would scrub the test. But since they had no idea, flying the machine would be his call.
Tom finally had a moment to relax and catch his breath. He collapsed backward against the machine’s supports while waiting for daybreak. He needed a miraculous second wind to kick in if he was going to have any success flying the machine, let alone make it back safely into the spacecraft. He rubbed the tip of his nose on his visor to clear a circle the size of a dime in the condensation, allowing him a small spot to see through clearly. The predawn Earth glowed with a few scattered lights. Soon the Gemini spacecraft would be on the daylight side. By then he should be flying the jet pack. He was certain that the feat would cause celebratory toasts among all his family and friends partying at his house.
Tom closed his eyes and tried to calm down, doing his best to reduce his heavy breathing. He hoped thinking of his nine-month-old boy might do the trick. But sadly, he couldn’t come up with a clear image of Peter’s face in his mind. Because of Tom’s endless hours training for the mission, he had hardly been around since his son’s birth. Disappointed, Tom opened his eyes. He convinced himself he was doing the right thing putting work before family. There would be time down the road to be a part of Peter’s life.
Sam’s garbled transmission came in over the radio. “Mission Con…l h…s given you okay to fly A…U.”
Tom opened his eyes and clenched his gloved fist in a minor celebration. He repeated the message to confirm he heard it correctly. “Roger, I have the okay to fly the AMU.”
“Rog…”
The sun started rising behind Tom, giving him an unbelievable view of his planet waking up in front of him, its wondrous colors beginning to shine brilliantly. He stared through the small wiped area, mesmerized by the slow, turning Earth.
“Re…se in th…e min..s”
Shaking his head, Tom focused back in on his job. “Please repeat.”
“Release in …ree m…utes.”
“Roger, release in three minutes.”
Sam had to flip a switch in the cabin to release the jet pack, shearing a bolt behind Tom that held the AMU securely to the ship. As Tom patiently waited, a part of him questioned if he was doing the right thing. He couldn’t see out of his visor, and he was still so doggone tired. His hope was the sun would warm up his shield and defrost away some of the moisture, but flying the machine would still be a major challenge in his current condition. His concern was not only successfully flying the AMU back to the ship, but also having enough energy to get off the contraption and crawl back into the spacecraft, which, based on lessons learned during NASA’s only other EVA, was one of the toughest tasks of all.