“Like I said, sir, you have the touch,” Boomer said. “Gonzo is going to get us ready to transfer to station. She’ll get your companion ready first, and some crewmembers from station will transfer him first, and then we’ll go. Normally we’d seal off the airlock from the cockpit while we get the transfer tunnel in place, in case there’s a leak or damage, but everyone’s in a space suit, so even if there’s an accident or malfunction, we’ll be all right.”
Boomer and the passenger turned and watched as Faulkner produced a checklist, attached it to a bulkhead with Velcro, and got to work. “The Midnight spaceplane has a small cargo bay, larger than the S-9 Black Stallion’s but not anywhere near as large as the space shuttle, but it was never really designed for docking or carrying cargo or passengers—it really was just a technology demonstrator,” Boomer explained. “We turned it into a workhorse later on. In front of the passenger module is an airlock that allows us to dock with Armstrong or the International Space Station and to transfer personnel or cargo back and forth without having to go into space.”
“Go into space?” the passenger repeated. He pointed out the cockpit windows. “You mean, you had to go out there to get on the station?”
“That was the only way to get to the space station in the S-9 Black Stallion and early S-19 Midnight,” Boomer said. “Sky Masters designed the airlock between the cockpit and cargo-bay with the pressurized transfer tunnel system, so now it’s easier to get from the spaceplane to station. The S-9 is too small for an airlock, so transferring means a spacewalk. It’s a short and sweet spacewalk. It wasn’t far, but it was sure spectacular.”
“Cargo-bay doors coming open,” Gonzo reported. They could hear a gentle rumble on the spaceplane’s hull. “Doors fully open.”
“Looks like your cargo-bay doors are fully open, Boomer,” a voice said on intercom. “Welcome to Armstrong.”
“Thank you, sir,” Boomer replied. To the passenger he said, “That’s Trevor Shale, the station manager. All of the personnel on Armstrong Space Station right now are contractors, although just about all are prior military, with lots of experience in space operations, and about half have worked on station in the past. We open the cargo-bay doors to vent excess heat from the spaceplane.” On intercom he said, “Pretty good docking approach, wouldn’t you say, sir?”
“Don’t get a cramp patting yourself on the back, Boomer,” Shale radioed.
“It wasn’t me or Gonzo: it was our passenger.”
There was a long, rather uncomfortable pause; then, Shale responded with a wooden, “Roger that.”
“He didn’t sound pleased,” the passenger observed.
“Trevor didn’t like the idea of you docking Midnight, sir,” Boomer admitted. “The station director, General Kai Raydon, retired Air Force, approved the idea; they left it up to me.”
“I would think that overruling your station manager would not be a good thing, Boomer.”
“Sir, I think I know and understand the reason why you’re doing all this,” Boomer said as he monitored the progress of attaching the transfer tunnel to the airlock. “You’re here to prove an important point, and I am all for that. It’s a tremendous risk, but a risk I think needs to be taken. If you’re willing to do it, I’m willing to do as much as I can to water your eyes, and thereby water the eyes of the world. If I may say, sir, I just need you to have the courage to tell the world what you did on this trip and what you’ve seen, over and over and over again, in every possible venue, all around the world. Your words will ignite the world to the excitement of space travel far more than mine could ever do.” The passenger thought about that for a moment, then nodded.
“Transfer tunnel connected and secure,” Gonzo reported. “Sealing the airlock.”
“So Gonzo is in the airlock by herself, sealed off from the cockpit and the passenger module?” the passenger asked. “Why do you do that?”
“So we don’t depressurize the entire spaceplane in case the tunnel fails or isn’t sealed properly,” Boomer replied.
“But then Gonzo . . . ?”
“She’s in a partial-pressure suit and could probably survive the loss of pressure,” Boomer said, “but she and Mr. Spellman would have to spacewalk to get to the station, which she’s done many times in training, but of course Mr. Spellman would have to endure on his own. It’s hazardous, but she’s done it before. Mr. Spellman would probably survive it just fine—he’s a pretty healthy dude . . .”
“Jesus,” the passenger said. “It boggles the mind to think of how many things can go wrong.”
“We work through it and make improvements all the time, and train, train, train, and then train some more,” Boomer said. “But you just have to accept the fact that it’s a dangerous game we’re playing.”