“We could let it drive in automatically, and the computers do a fine job, but where’s the fun in that?” He repositioned the controller over in front the passenger. “I have a feeling you’ll do fine.”
He entered commands into a keyboard on the center console, and a target appeared on the windscreen in front of the passenger. “The right control moves the spaceplane forward, backward, and side to side—we don’t bank like an aircraft, but just move laterally,” Boomer went on. “The left control is a little different: twisting the knob yaws the spacecraft around its center, so you can point the nose in a different direction than the spaceplane’s direction of travel; and you can adjust the spaceplane’s vertical position by pulling up on the knob to go upward vertically, or push down to move downward. Manipulating the controls activates thrusters—tiny rocket engines—positioned all around the spaceplane. Normally we would pay close attention to how much fuel we use for the thrusters to do a docking—another reason why the powers that be prefer we use the computer for docking, since it’s generally better and more fuel-efficient at docking than us mere mortals—but for this trip we loaded plenty of extra fuel on station so we can top the tanks before we leave and everything is cool.
“So, sir, your task is to manipulate the controls to keep the aiming reticle you see before you centered on the docking target on station, which is that big ‘zero’ you see on the docking module. As you close in, director lights will flash and you’ll see more hints on what to do. Big mention here: Remember that station rotates along its long axis once every ninety minutes, so the antennas and windows are always pointed toward Earth as it orbits, but as long as you follow the director signals it will compensate for that. Remember also that not only do you need to spear the target, but you need to align the spaceplane as directed by the director lights, and you also need to control your forward speed so you don’t ram the space station and break Midnight, which would be bad for all involved.”
“I’ll try not to do that,” the passenger said weakly.
“Thank you, sir. As Jessica instructed you when moving yourself around in zero-G, gross movements are bad, and slight movements and corrections are good. We have found that thinking about a movement is usually enough to activate a measured, proper minor-muscle response. You seemed to have that concept well in hand when getting into your seat this morning, so I have full confidence that you will be able to do the same when maneuvering our spaceplane for docking.” The passenger responded with a very noticeable nervous swallow.
“Your director indicators are telling you that you are closing at twelve inches per second, you are thirty yards low, ten yards right, range one hundred thirty-three yards, and sixteen degrees left of course for alignment,” Boomer went on. “When we get within fifty yards we’ll gradually decrease the closure rate so at five yards we’ll be less than three inches per second. You need to get within less than one degree in yaw and dead-on in heading and altitude and less than one inch per second to plug the bull’s-eye, or we’ll abort the approach and try again.”
“Want to warn the station, Boomer?” Faulkner asked on intercom. She was now seated on the jumpseat between Boomer and the passenger.
“I think we’ll be fine, Gonzo,” Boomer replied.
Boomer could see the passenger swallow nervously, even through his space suit and helmet. “Maybe we’d better not . . .” he said.
“I think you’ll do fine, sir,” Boomer repeated. “You have the touch.”