The thundering of hooves on stone preceded a pony galloping at full speed through the halls of Canterlot Castle. His name was Paper Pusher and he had some bad news to deliver.
Paper had joined up with the Equestrian Space Center when it was newly created. His skills at navigating bureaucracy had landed him in a comfortable job overseeing the flow of information within the agency.
Minutes before, a notice from NASA had come across his desk, and it was a doozy. The Princess had to know immediately.
The office intern had taken a day off, so it was up to Paper to deliver the message. His lungs and legs burned, but he kept running. He was too old and too out of shape to do exert himself like this very often. The message contained very important information.
Paper pulled up in front of the door to Celestia’s chamber. Between gasps for air, he managed to communicate his purpose to the guards stationed there. Deciding the aging civil servant was no threat, they let him in.
The Princesss looked up from her work in concern. It was not often that a sweaty middle-aged pony wanted to talk to her.
“What is it?” Celestia asked.
Paper bowed before her. “Princess, I regret to inform you that there’s been a terrible accident aboard the Space Station.” He paused to catch his breath.
Celestia’s eyes narrowed and the tone of her voice changed. “What’s the situation?”
“The ESC doesn’t have the full details yet,” answered Paper. “We do know that everypony is alive. There’s something wrong with the spacecraft, and a rescue mission is being planned.”
“Please keep me updated.” Celestia began writing a letter.
“Yes, your highness.” Paper left the room. The Princess’s relatively calm reaction surprised him a little, but he’d heard that she was famous for being cool under pressure. It was really a great thing that she was in charge. A pony couldn’t help but feel inspired by her leadership.
Most of the lights aboard the International Space Station had been dimmed. The water filtration system had been turned down, and nonessential computers were shut off.
Scientific research had been suspended for the moment. The astronauts were working frantically to reduce consumption and waste any way they could. The remaining solar panels couldn’t sustain them, and the batteries wouldn’t last forever.
The number one problem was electricity. Oxygen could be produced from chemical reactions, but everything else required power.
Rainbow shivered slightly. The power going to the climate control system had been reduced, and the Station was getting cold.
The astronauts had formed a duty rotation to make sure a few of them were ready to respond in case of more problems. Rainbow was not currently standing watch, so she scooted down a little deeper into her sleeping bag. She was unable to sleep, but the bag helped keep her warm.
The pegasus had helped plan a repair mission. Taylor and the Russians were going to try a spacewalk in an attempt to fix the damage. It would be difficult, as none of them knew yet how extensive the trauma had been.
Bored, Rainbow slid out of her berth and headed for the kitchen area. She found Fournier there reviewing electrical diagrams of the Station.
“Is there any hot water left?” Rainbow asked.
“Just a little,” replied the woman. “You should get it before someone else does.”
The hot water tank was well insulated, so there was still some warm liquid to be had. The heater had been turned off, though, so once it was gone there would be no more.
Rainbow picked out a package from the food storage locker. It was a plastic bag with some brown powder inside. With the addition of hot water, it turned into a beverage that somewhat resembled coffee.
The pony plugged the straw of the package into the water dispenser. When the bag was full, she pinched the straw between her teeth and shook the bag a little to make sure everything was mixed.
She took a sip. It was terrible coffee. No matter, the taste would stop Rainbow from drinking it too quickly.
She drifted back over to where Fournier was working. “Any new developments?” the pony asked.
The French astronaut shook her head, looking somewhat despondent. “No. Our best guess is that the main feed cable was somehow ruined. It runs through the area where the damage occurred.”
“How long will that take to fix?” Rainbow asked.
“It’s hard to know.” The woman shrugged. “We have spare wire, but getting the bad section replaced could be difficult.”
Rainbow was not an electrician, and didn’t think that she could splice a large power cable while hanging off the outside of the Station. She hoped that the men were better qualified.
It was a little difficult to get into a spacesuit when the lights were dim. Taylor struggled with the gloves, eventually giving up and letting Rarity help him.
The Russians seemed to be having similar problems with their borrowed suits. They didn’t fit the men perfectly, but would have to do. They had been picked to go with Taylor because both of them had more experience with spacewalks than Dr. Flack, and Fournier had to stay inside to monitor the electrical systems.
“Do be careful,” admonished the white unicorn as she helped the men suit up. “We don’t need any more excitement around here.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Taylor. He and the cosmonauts squeezed into the airlock. Dr. Flack saw them off, operating the controls to let them out the hatch.
Outside, the familiar quiet of space enveloped the men. Taylor lowered his helmet’s sun shield. It was made of tough plastic and plated with a very thin layer of gold for thermal and reflective purposes. From inside, it gave everything that Taylor could see a sepia-like tint.
The three of them began working their way over to the accident site. Taylor brought up the rear, following Denisov and Zimin. Their number one priority was finding the damaged spot in the cable. It would be great if that turned out to be the problem. If not, well, it would be a long spacewalk.
It was somewhat strange to pick over the outside of the ISS without the exterior floodlights on. The sun lit up everything nicely, but that only made the shadowy areas worse. Taylor switched on the light mounted beside his helmet. At the moment, all it showed him was the back of Zimin’s suit as the man pulled himself along ahead of Taylor.
The Australian astronaut allowed himself to relax, but only a little. He couldn’t afford to let his attention waver, but he didn’t have to be uptight. The spacewalk could last one hour, or several. Concentrating hard for too long could be as tiring as any physical exercise.
“Here it is,” called Denisov through the radio. Taylor slipped up beside him and inspected the damage. The bare wire could be seen through a gash in the insulation.
The three of them carried splicing equipment. They’d brought a coil of the heavy electric wire, and all the tools that were necessary. Zimin took out a multimeter and poked at the wounded cable with the device’s probes.
The digital readout of the gadget showed that no electricity was flowing through the wire. Taylor verified the result with his own multimeter.
When working on the ISS, it was a rule that all jobs had to be checked by someone else. While the astronauts were in a rush to get the Station power restored, they knew that the time had to be taken to get things right on the first try. A do-over would take even longer.
Taylor called Fournier and she told him that the circuit box the cable was attached to was turned off. She could reactivate it when it was fixed.
“I think that three meters of new wire will do the trick,” said Denisov. Taylor and Zimin agreed. With cutting tools, they set to work removing the damaged section.
The Nightmare watched with interest.
Author note:
I apologize for the short, unedited chapter. Let’s just say that a funny thing happened on the way to the internet.
In other news, I have a new story. It’s a comedy, if you’re into that sort of thing.