“Cockpit hatch is secure,” Boomer said after checking the readouts. “Depressurizing the airlock now.” A few minutes later: “Opening cargo-bay hatch.” He unlocked and opened the hatch and stepped inside the cargo bay, secured himself with a tether, then closed and sealed the hatch behind him.
The cargo bay was still mostly full, because they were carrying all of the supplies for the International Space Station and still had some untransferred supplies for Armstrong. Boomer brought out a one-hundred-yard length of cargo strap used for transferring items to a space station, made sure the end of the strap was secure to the spaceplane, attached the strap to a clip on his backpack harness, and unhooked himself from the cargo-bay tether. “Leaving cargo bay,” he reported, then maneuvered himself up and out of the cargo bay and headed for the Midnight spaceplane, the cargo strap unreeling itself behind him.
A few minutes later he entered the fuel-oxidizer cloud—thankfully the jets on SAFER used inert gases for propulsion, so there was no danger of creating an explosion—and he could clearly see the spaceplane. The damage looked worse from up close, but the fuselage and cockpit looked intact. “I’m about twenty yards from Midnight,” Boomer reported. “I’m going in.” Using tiny puffs from SAFER, he moved in toward Midnight’s cockpit . . .
. . . and through the cockpit canopy windows, he saw Jessica Faulkner and Vice President Ann Page, still seated, upright, and strapped in, heads bowed as if napping in an airliner seat, but not moving. “I see Gonzo and the vice president,” Boomer said. “They’re strapped in and upright. I can’t see if their eyes are open.” He took out a flashlight and tapped gently on the Midnight’s cockpit canopies—no response. “Their suits look undamaged, and I can see LEDs on their suits’ status panels—hot damn, they might be—”
And just then, Vice President Ann Page raised her head, then her right hand, as if waving. “The vice president is alive!” Boomer said. “I think she’s waving at me!” He realized it could just be the motion of the spacecraft, but he had to cling to any drop of hope he possibly could. “Gonzo’s still not moving, but the vice president is conscious! Power is out. The airlock hatch and cockpit look secure—no sign of damage or decompression. We’ve got to get them back to station.”
He floated above Midnight to look at the cargo bay. “The right side of the fuselage at the wing attach point looks badly damaged.” He maneuvered himself around to the right side of the cargo bay. “Shit,” he murmured a few moments later. “Looks like the passenger module was breached. Stand by. I’ll see if I can check the passengers.”
Aboard Armstrong Space Station, Brad McLanahan held his breath. He knew Sondra was on that spaceplane and had switched to the passenger module to allow the vice president to ride in the cockpit.
“Brad,” Jodie radioed from Cal Poly—no one on the Project Starfire team had left their station since Stacy Anne Barbeau’s explosive accusations. “I heard everything. Wasn’t . . . wasn’t your friend Sondra . . . ?”
“Yes,” Brad said.
“Prayers,” Jodie breathed.
Boomer was able to look through the breach in the hull and passenger module. “There’s not enough room for me to get into the module,” he said. He shined his flashlight at Sondra and the Secret Service agent. “They are unconscious, but I see indicator lights on their suits’ status panel, and their visors are down and appear locked. We—”
And at that moment, as Boomer swept his flashlight’s beam across her helmet visor, Sondra raised her head. Her eyes were open and wide with fear. “Holy shit, Sondra’s alive!” Boomer shouted. “The Secret Service agent is not moving, but as far as I can tell, her suit is intact! We might have four survivors here!”
“Excellent!” Kai radioed. He and the rest of the crew had been watching Boomer’s progress on video and audio streamed back from cameras mounted on Boomer’s PLSS. “Get back here on the double. We’ll widen the breach to get into the passenger module, and then we can recover the passengers and then gain access to the cockpit through the airlock.”
“Roger.” Boomer made his way to the front of the Midnight spaceplane, found a Reaction Control System nozzle on the nose, and hooked the cargo strap securely inside it. He then hooked a ring on his backpack harness to the strap and propelled himself back to the S-29 Shadow spaceplane, zip-lining down the strap. In minutes he was through the Shadow’s airlock, set the PLSS in its cradle to recharge and refill, and made his way back into the Shadow’s cockpit.