“Holy crap, this is beautiful!” Luke’s lower torso and legs were still inside the capsule, but his head and shoulders were outside. “First things first.” He cautiously twisted and reached down to dislodge the barf bag, and then carefully threw it in a straight line backwards to their direction of flight, so it would fall into a lower orbit. “Bomb’s away!” He checked that his bolt cutters had floated out clear of the hatch on their tether, confirmed that his camera was secure and reached for the nearest handrail.
“Boss, you would not believe this view! I’m ready to move out if you’re set to feed me umbilical as I go.”
Chad said, “Michael, I show five hundred feet and three feet per second. You agree?”
“Yep, that matches what I see.”
“Okay, Luke, I’m with you. Your umbilical’s clear.” Chad’s voice sounded strained.
Luke smoothly pulled his feet clear and out, and pivoted his suited body like an obese rock climber, walking his hands along the rails that were mounted across Pursuit to the adjoining Service Module. A foot restraint was installed at the far end for him to click his boots into, so that he could have both hands free.
In case the CAPCOM could hear him, Michael reported, “Houston, 18, we’re at four hundred feet and closing at two and a half. Luke just got outside and is getting into the foot restraint.” No response.
He looked up again at Almaz, trying to judge how fast he was drifting towards it. He glanced across at Chad.
“You got a new data point for me, Boss?”
Chad didn’t respond. Then both Luke and Michael heard him retching in their headsets.
Throwing up inside a sealed spacesuit was a misery. The flown astronauts who had told them about it had described the stink, the smeared visor, the stomach acid getting into their eyes, and trying not to inhale any of the floating chunks and bile.
Michael took another hard look at Almaz, assessing his approach speed. He gave two small decelerating pulses on the hand controller, and liked what he saw.
“Luke, how you doing?”
“Michael, it is fricking gorgeous out here! But I’m having trouble swinging around to get my feet in. Can you check that my umbilical isn’t snagged?”
Michael looked at Chad again, who’d made no response to Luke’s call. He released the controls and twisted in his seat, reaching as far as he could, feeling for the umbilical. It was pulled taut on the hatch mechanism, and he shook it like a garden hose to try to work it clear. He felt it give, and some extra length played out through his hand.
Luke said, “That did it, thanks! I’ll get my feet in now.”
Michael let go and his seat straps floated him back, centering him in position. He looked once more at Chad.
“Boss, how you doing?”
“I’m okay,” Chad said thickly.
“Roger, if you can get me another data point, that’d be great.” He hoped the task might help Chad work through his nausea.
“Apollo 18, Houston, comm check.”
“Have you loud and clear, Houston, how us?” Michael said, then focused on the Soviet ship, correcting the sideways drift that had started while he was dealing with the umbilical.
His eyes caught unexpected movement. What the hell is that? A solar array turning? A comm antenna tracking them, maybe?
Luke’s voice was in his ears. “Man! My left foot just won’t . . . uhh . . . c’mon, twist in there!” His attention was focused down, trying to get into his foot restraint.
Michael peered hard at Almaz, trying to reconcile what he was seeing. “Houston, you hearing Luke? He’s almost in position. Range and closure all good.” What is that?
——
In Mission Control, the CAPCOM looked at Gene. “FLIGHT, I didn’t get that, sorry.” The voice comm from Pursuit was fading in and out.
Kaz pushed his mic button. “FLIGHT, I think I heard Luke say something, and pretty sure that Michael said good range and closure.”
Gene nodded. “Let’s just watch the data. They’re busy enough without us calling for voice checks.”
JW spoke, slight concern in his voice. “FLIGHT, SURGEON, Luke’s heart rate and respiration are spiking.”
“Roger, keep a close eye, let me know if it gets beyond limits.”
Luke finally had his feet anchored. “There!” he said, the word a long exhale, heard by Michael and Chad, but lost in the bad connection with Mission Control. “That sure was harder than in the sim. Leaning back now.”