Read Online The Krone Experiment by J. Craig Wheeler - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: J. Craig Wheeler
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guy if you were in a lower, quicker
orbit. If you fired your rockets, you would be flung into a higher,
slower orbit, a maddening reversal of fighter pilot instincts. If
you wanted to go faster, you flipped ass over end and fired the
rockets in the direction of your travel. Then you dropped into a
lower orbit where your speed was higher.
They settled in to wait. The maneuver had
taken fourteen minutes. In twenty-seven they would begin the final
firing sequence that would raise them to within docking range of
the Cosmos. Seventeen minutes had passed since the Cosmos had fired
at them. Another six minutes passed in silence.
The intense white hot glow erupted in front
of them, accompanied by static on the radio. Both Jupp and
Wahlquist jerked, startled, in their seats. Newman punched a button
on the wrist of his suit again, and a small satisfied smile creased
his features.
“Shuttle, Cosmos has fired again! Please
report!”
“Whoa, that one caught us by surprise. Scared
the bejesus out of me. The mirror took that one head on, and it
seems to be intact.”
“Roger, shuttle, that’s satisfactory. You may
proceed.”
Newman’s voice croaked from the rear.
“The repetition time is twenty-three minutes
and thirty- seven seconds, even a little slower than we guessed.
We’ve got them now.”
Jupp looked at him in the small mirror
mounted above the window.
“Twenty-three minutes.” He turned his head to
see a count-down timer, and then looked back at the man in the
rear. “We’ll be in the middle of the final lift.”
“They’ll get one more shot at us. That can’t
be helped. But if it’s just before we close on the bastard, we’ll
have the maximum time to get in and get it disabled.”
Jupp settled back into his chair and stared
out the cockpit window at the thin mirror surface that shielded
them from a fiery death. He understood the logic, but he was not at
all happy about sticking out his chin and giving the satellite one
more freebie punch.
They coasted in silence for five, ten,
fifteen minutes. Without the obstructing mirror they might have
been able to make out the pinpoint of light that was Cosmos 2112,
hovering somewhere above and beyond them. Then as Jupp programmed
the final burn, the radio crackled alive again.
“Shuttle, there has been a new development.
This could be a problem.”
There was a delay during which a mumbled
conversation could be heard. Harsh whispers of troubled voices.
“Shuttle, the Cosmos has gone into a rapid
rotation mode. We can’t be sure but we suspect the purpose is to
spread the next shot over the surface of the mirror.”
“Roger, control,” Jupp replied. “What’s the
matter with that? Doesn’t that just lessen the intensity in any
particular spot?”
“A little,” came the concerned voice from the
ground, “but more important is that it increases the chance that
some of the power will fall in the interstices. The cracks between
the mirror segments. The reflection will be imperfect there, a lot
more absorption of energy, and the chance for some real damage.
You’ll be a lot closer, so the power will be more concentrated
anyway.”
“Copy that, control. What’s the recommended
procedure?”
“Shuttle, no change, repeat, no change in
procedure.” The voice lost some of its adopted authority. “Just a
warning to be on the lookout. You’re going to have to tough this
one out. Fer Chrissake, shield your eyes!”
Just before beginning the burn they darkened
their faceplates. Jupp set the automatic sequence and the rockets
fired, lifting them methodically to their rendezvous. Jupp kept an
eye on the clock. He sang out “twenty-three minutes,” over the roar
of the rockets. They closed their eyes and threw their arms over
their faceplates. A minute passed. The rockets stopped. They
floated in deafening silence for another minute. Somewhere just in
front of them, at point-blank range, was the deadly Cosmos.
Finally, Wahlquist dropped his arms
orbit. If you fired your rockets, you would be flung into a higher,
slower orbit, a maddening reversal of fighter pilot instincts. If
you wanted to go faster, you flipped ass over end and fired the
rockets in the direction of your travel. Then you dropped into a
lower orbit where your speed was higher.
They settled in to wait. The maneuver had
taken fourteen minutes. In twenty-seven they would begin the final
firing sequence that would raise them to within docking range of
the Cosmos. Seventeen minutes had passed since the Cosmos had fired
at them. Another six minutes passed in silence.
The intense white hot glow erupted in front
of them, accompanied by static on the radio. Both Jupp and
Wahlquist jerked, startled, in their seats. Newman punched a button
on the wrist of his suit again, and a small satisfied smile creased
his features.
“Shuttle, Cosmos has fired again! Please
report!”
“Whoa, that one caught us by surprise. Scared
the bejesus out of me. The mirror took that one head on, and it
seems to be intact.”
“Roger, shuttle, that’s satisfactory. You may
proceed.”
Newman’s voice croaked from the rear.
“The repetition time is twenty-three minutes
and thirty- seven seconds, even a little slower than we guessed.
We’ve got them now.”
Jupp looked at him in the small mirror
mounted above the window.
“Twenty-three minutes.” He turned his head to
see a count-down timer, and then looked back at the man in the
rear. “We’ll be in the middle of the final lift.”
“They’ll get one more shot at us. That can’t
be helped. But if it’s just before we close on the bastard, we’ll
have the maximum time to get in and get it disabled.”
Jupp settled back into his chair and stared
out the cockpit window at the thin mirror surface that shielded
them from a fiery death. He understood the logic, but he was not at
all happy about sticking out his chin and giving the satellite one
more freebie punch.
They coasted in silence for five, ten,
fifteen minutes. Without the obstructing mirror they might have
been able to make out the pinpoint of light that was Cosmos 2112,
hovering somewhere above and beyond them. Then as Jupp programmed
the final burn, the radio crackled alive again.
“Shuttle, there has been a new development.
This could be a problem.”
There was a delay during which a mumbled
conversation could be heard. Harsh whispers of troubled voices.
“Shuttle, the Cosmos has gone into a rapid
rotation mode. We can’t be sure but we suspect the purpose is to
spread the next shot over the surface of the mirror.”
“Roger, control,” Jupp replied. “What’s the
matter with that? Doesn’t that just lessen the intensity in any
particular spot?”
“A little,” came the concerned voice from the
ground, “but more important is that it increases the chance that
some of the power will fall in the interstices. The cracks between
the mirror segments. The reflection will be imperfect there, a lot
more absorption of energy, and the chance for some real damage.
You’ll be a lot closer, so the power will be more concentrated
anyway.”
“Copy that, control. What’s the recommended
procedure?”
“Shuttle, no change, repeat, no change in
procedure.” The voice lost some of its adopted authority. “Just a
warning to be on the lookout. You’re going to have to tough this
one out. Fer Chrissake, shield your eyes!”
Just before beginning the burn they darkened
their faceplates. Jupp set the automatic sequence and the rockets
fired, lifting them methodically to their rendezvous. Jupp kept an
eye on the clock. He sang out “twenty-three minutes,” over the roar
of the rockets. They closed their eyes and threw their arms over
their faceplates. A minute passed. The rockets stopped. They
floated in deafening silence for another minute. Somewhere just in
front of them, at point-blank range, was the deadly Cosmos.
Finally, Wahlquist dropped his arms
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