Interstellar

“Brand,” he said, “I don’t know what Cooper’s told you, but I’m taking control of the Endurance, then we’ll talk about continuing the mission. This is not your survival, or Cooper’s—this is about mankind’s.”

He turned back and pulled the lever.

THIRTY-ONE

It all happened in silence, of course, and at distance, so to Cooper it seemed unreal. It was as if he was watching some of his model spaceships, suspended on fishing line in front of a star field.

First he saw a flare of flame and then a cloud puff from the spot where the two ships were joined, followed by a steady stream of white vapor. He didn’t need to ask what it was—it was air gushing out from both the Ranger and Endurance, crystallizing almost instantly in the vacuum of space.

The loss of air was a problem, but the secondary affect was a disaster. The air in both ships was pressurized at around twelve pounds per square inch, so it was jetting out with enough velocity to act like a steering rocket. As Cooper watched, aghast, the angle of the air stream began turning the wheel that was Endurance—ponderously at first, but with gathering speed, like a pinwheel firework on the Fourth of July. He watched the partially joined airlocks twist and shatter, and then the Ranger was ripped away, tearing itself apart in the process and rupturing one of the Endurance’s modules as it went. Venting more air to freeze in the void, adding more thrust to the ship’s spin.

As it spun, the ghostly hand of planetary gravity took over and the great ship began dropping ponderously toward the frozen planet below.

“Oh, my God,” Brand said.

Cooper got behind the controls and took the sticks, firing the thrusters. He dove beneath the crippled starship, dodging the debris from the Ranger.

“Cooper,” Case said, “there’s no point in using our fuel to—”

“Just analyze the Endurance’s spin,” he said, cutting Case short.

“What are you doing?” Brand asked.

“Docking,” Cooper replied.

He pushed the thrusters, trying to match the larger ship’s rotation.

“Endurance rotation sixty-seven, sixty-eight rotations per minute,” Case informed him.

“Get ready to match it on the retro thrusters,” Cooper said.

“It’s not possible,” Case argued.

“No,” Cooper said, grimly. “It’s necessary.”

He noticed that the Endurance was shedding bits of itself, sending them spinning off into the void..

“Endurance is hitting atmosphere,” Case remarked.

“She’s got no heat shield!” Brand said.

Cooper maneuvered beneath the spinning wheel, only feet from the starship. The airlock was there, and relative to the downward fall of the Endurance, the lander was more-or-less motionless.

But that wasn’t even halfway where they needed to be. The dock was whirling around at incredible speed. Speed they were going to have to match.

“Case, you ready?” he asked.

“Ready.” Case replied.

Cooper looked again at Endurance, and felt a blink coming on. Maybe Case was right. They still had the lander. With it, they might manage to limp home. Probably not, but maybe. Yet if this failed, it was all over. They were all dead.

“Cooper,” Case said, “this is no time for caution.”

Cooper felt a smile on his face.

Right.

“If I black out,” he said, “Take the stick. Tars, get ready to engage the docking mechanism. Brand—hold tight.”

“Endurance is starting to heat—” Case said.

“Hit it!” Cooper told him.

He felt the retros fire, and the lander started to spin, picking up speed quickly as both ships streaked toward the waiting ice below. The g-forces increased, as well, pushing them against their restraints, trying to crush them. Cooper felt the blood rushing away from his head, and struggled to remain conscious.

They weren’t falling cleanly anymore. The atmosphere was pushing back, and hard, bouncing and yawing the tiny ship. Mann’s planet seemed to be everywhere, and the curve of its horizon was fast straightening out.

He saw Tars open the airlock. The Endurance was still spinning relative to them, but slowly, as they neared matching the rpm. After several heart-stopping moments they lined up, and Tars fired the grapple—but they hit an air pocket—the hatches went out of line and the grapple caught nothing.

He glanced over, saw Brand had passed out, and knew he wasn’t far behind her. He fastened his eyes on his instruments rather than the wild whirling vista of Mann’s planet that was moving into and out of view. He tried to hold on.

“Come on Tars,” he said. “Come on…”

Cooper heard the grapple fire again, and the ship suddenly lurched, violently.

“Got it!” Tars announced.

Immediately Case reversed the direction of the thrust and their rotation began to slow.

“Gen—gentle, Case,” Cooper muttered, half out of it.

Mann’s planet began rotating into view less frequently, just once every few seconds, until finally they were barely turning at all.

“Getting ready to pull us up,” Cooper said.