Skyfall

“Time to depressurize. Helmets on. Take care of that, Gregor, when we're all secured. The Orbiter will be making the final approach now.”

“Prometheus, I have you on electronic ranging and we are closing, “Cooke said.

“We are waiting for you, Orbiter. Our hatch is open and we are standing by.”

“Burn is complete and we're closing at one two oh feet per second.”

“There they are!” Decosta called out as Prometheus swam into view. Cooke nodded, hands busy at the controls.

“We have you in sight now, looks like we're making a high side pass. Your crew module is in the shadow of the payload so I don't know if hatch alignment is in the green.”

“My people here are on the lookout — they see you now. Coming in just fine. Our hatch is about thirty degrees away from earthside your approach.”

“Okay, Pat. I'll lift a bit and roll as we come in. A piece of cake.”

Of course it wasn't. Cooke knew he had to get it right the first time because there could be no second attempt. Right so far. 2,727 feet out, closing at 19.7 feet per second. He hit the forward gas jets. I,370 feet, 9.8 feet per second. The spacecraft grew steadily larger, closer.

“Good thing they are carrying their payload on their nose,” Decosta said. “All burned to hell. Better it than them.” He turned his oxygen on, then put on his helmet. “Radio connection okay?” he asked.

“Fine.”

“I'm getting the doors open, the tanks ready.”

He dived in headfirst through the floor hatch, kicked off the wall and grabbed the dogging handle of the airlock, twisting it, pulling up on the door. Once inside he sealed it behind him and punched the bleed valve. The pressure reading wound down and down until the red evacuation light blinked on. The outer door of the airlock opened easily and just outside it were the door controls. Decosta trained his light on them, switched the selector to open and pressed the activate button. A crack of light appeared, widened, as the curved, sixty-foot-long doors began to swing back. Light poured in and he could see the base of the remote manipulator no more than a yard away. He moved off towards it, seized it, and using it as a guide pushed himself the length of the cavernous hold, to the far end. As he went he permitted himself only one quick glimpse of Prometheus.

It was no more than a hundred yards away and closing smoothly. An immense scarred cylinder in space, two hundred and fifty feet long. The crew module was still in the shadow of the payload but he knew they were there, waiting for him.

“On the way,” he said, grabbing the working end of the manipulator as he came to it. The knife was just where he had left it, floating free at the end of the length of line. He reached out carefully and grabbed the handle, then used the blade to sever the line where he had tied it. An easy steady push sent him floating the last ten feet to the end where the walk-arounds were lashed, to grab the ropes and saw through a length of white nylon, to pull it free loop after loop.

When the tie-down line had been removed and was floating away into space he tied the knife to the red line that held the four tanks together, then retraced his way back to the manipulator controls. Only then did he take the time to look out.

Prometheus was there. No more than fifty, sixty feet away, filling the sky with its bulk. Light glowed in the ports and from the open hatch where he could clearly see the helmets of the crew.

“Ready to go,” Decosta said.

“You're through to Prometheus,” Cooke answered.

“I have you in sight,” Decosta said, pushing an actuator handle forward.

“What do you want us to do?” Patrick asked.

“Here come the walk-abouts, on the end of the arm.”

The long tube of the manipulator rose up and up, pulling along the tanks at the end of their length of line. “I'll try not to bang them into you, but they are swinging around a lot. Grab them when they get close. There is a knife tied out there with them, watch out for it, so you can cut them free.”

In Prometheus they could only wait, grouped by the hatch, two of them watching the welcome sight of the Orbiter as it drew close. It was like a great airplane flying towards them, an illusion destroyed when it rolled slowly until it was drifting topside in their direction. Then jt split down almost its entire length, long doors gaping wide, and the thin shaft of the manipulator was reaching out in their direction, the tanks floating free at the end.

“What's happening?” Patrick said, angry that he had to ask.

“I'm sorry,” Coretta said. “I forgot. There's a long arm coming over with the tanks, they are whipping back and forth, swinging around. They've stopped now---”

“Can you reach them, Prometheus?”

“No.” Gregor reached out as far as he could. “They are still at least two meters away.”

“I'm out all the way,” Decosta said.

“Coming closer,” Cooke answered.

There was a brief spurt of gas on the directional jets and the Orbiter drifted sideways, looming up.