//------------------------------//
// Chapter 5 
// Story: As the Sun Rises, So Do We 
// by totallynotabrony 
//------------------------------//

	Sylvie Fournier watched the readouts of the electrical controls, her lips pursed in a tense, worried line.  Taylor, Denisov, and Zimin's work on the exterior of the Station was proceeding slowly but surely.  As far as the French astronaut could tell, everything would soon be fine… but the wait still felt interminable. 
Fournier glanced at her watch.  By her estimation, getting the damaged section of wire replaced would take a few more hours.  With nothing else to do, she checked the Station’s battery status again.  The green number glowing on the readout was reassuringly high.  Though feeling momentarily relieved, the researcher pressed the “equipment test” button anyway.
The system reset itself, searching for errors that could affect the data collection.  The circuits clicked their way through the self-check, eating up a few more seconds of Sylvie’s time as she waited for the results.  Finally the readouts blinked and the figures readjusted themselves—to much, much lower numbers than before.
That was impossible!  The system had just been reading the batteries as nearly full!  Fournier pressed the reset button again, practically poking her finger through the panel in her urgency.  Again, the system indicated that the batteries would be dead far too soon.
The woman took a moment to consider her options.  She activated the intercom.  “Commander Dash, I need you in the system control center, please.”
That done, Fournier switched to the radio channel linked to the astronauts’ spacesuits.  She kept her voice calm as she spoke into the microphone.  No reason to add more stress than necessary to men hanging in the black void by the thinnest of threads. 
“Gentlemen, we have less battery power remaining than we thought.”
“What the hell’s that mean?” demanded Taylor with his distinctive accent.
“If there is a way to accomplish the job of replacing the wire faster, please do it.”  Fournier hated to say it like that.  A mistake could easily get them all killed, but in this case working too slowly could easily have the same result.
There were a few moments of silence.  One of the Russians outside spoke up.  “We could replace the entire cable instead of just a piece.”
“That could work,” replied the Australian.  The three astronauts outside began to discuss how they would proceed.
Gliding into the control center, Rainbow looked apprehensively at the French astronaut who had called her.  There was going to be bad news; the pony could feel it.  She asked anyway.  
“Is something wrong?”
“The trouble is worse than I thought,” said the woman.  “The batteries are failing faster than expected.”
Rainbow nodded slowly.  “How long do we have?”
It was not a question that Fournier could answer precisely.  The math was simple enough on paper, but here in the stricken ISS, the consequences of the merciless numbers were very real.  Doing a quick estimation in her head, the French astronaut carefully avoided thinking about the fact that she was calculating her own time of death here in the airless void of space. 
Fournier sighed.  “I estimate we will have power for no less than two days, but no more than three.  We must get the solar panels working again.”
“What can we do?” Rainbow asked hesitantly.  She needed to know, but at the same time she didn’t want to.  A strange, ice-cold feeling was flowing into the pegasus’ chest.  It had been so long since she’d felt real fear that she didn’t recognize it at first.  A slow death is always more terrifying than a quick one.
“We will have to cut back on consumption even more until electricity is restored,” said Fournier, keeping her voice remarkably calm.  Rainbow was not a very good poker player, but could clearly see that the woman was as anxious as she.
“What if we close off other modules of the Station and gather everyone closer together?” the pony suggested.  “That way we won’t have as much energy spent on heating.”
“That would help, although not as much as cutting the computer systems.”  Fournier bowed her head for a moment, rubbing her forehead in an attempt to stave off a growing headache.
“Aren’t those what keep the life support running?” questioned Rainbow.
“Yes.  We really don’t have many options, and we can’t cut anything else without the approval of ground control.”  Fournier went back to checking the electrical panel to make sure she didn’t get any more unpleasant surprises.
“I’m sure we’ll be okay,” said Rainbow.  She hoped she would be proven right.



“All right, go ahead,” said Taylor.  Zimin gripped the truss and pulled himself towards the other end of the station, hauling the coil of wire with him.  
With the limited mobility of the astronauts’ suits, securing gear often became a group effort.  If Taylor fastened the wire to the back of Zimin’s suit, it would leave the Russian’s hands free to hang on to the Station.
The astronauts’ repair strategy was relatively simple, even if working outside the station made everything more difficult.  Taylor and the Russians had left the place where the power transfer cable was ruined and were making their way towards the solar panel circuit box.  
The electricity produced by the panels was routed through the box and into the cable.  The thick wire ran across the outside of the ISS and into an electrical transformer where the electricity was converted to a different voltage before being distributed to the rest of the Station.  
Rather than splicing out the small damaged section of wire, the astronauts could simply run a new power cable between the circuit box and transformer.  The method used more wire, but saved time.
And if Fournier is right, thought Taylor, Time is in short supply.
The three astronauts made it over to the circuit box and gathered around.  Inside was the end of the wire, fastened securely to the electrical bus bar that gathered all the power from the solar panels.
It was not too much trouble to remove the cover to access the inside of the box.  Denisov used a small magnet to hold the panel to the ISS’s truss to make sure it wouldn’t drift away.  Inside the box, the end of the cable had been stripped bare of its protective insulation.  The copper strands gleamed, bright and shiny as the day they had been installed.  There was no air to oxidize them and dull the color.
After testing with a multimeter to make sure the power was off, Taylor carefully unbolted the clamp that held the wire to the bus bar.  A rubber seal held the wire in place, so he slipped it off.
After that, the end of the old wire came out of the box easily.  Since the astronauts were planning to just leave it in place for the moment and run the new wire alongside, there was no need to remove the broken cable.  Denisov twisted the end of the wire out of the way.
The work was achingly slow and meticulous, but any mistakes now could prove fatal.  Moving carefully, Taylor backed out of the way as Zimin moved forward with the coil of new wire.  The other cosmonaut helped strip the insulation off the end of the cable to expose the bare metal.
A flexible tube on the back of Zimin’s spacesuit popped loose from its connection.  A blast of vapor shot Taylor in the face, clouding his helmet.
While it wasn’t much force, the broken fitting pushed Zimin forward.  He let go of the coil of wire, flailing his arms in an attempt to grab something to hang on to.  He hit the end of his restraining rope and twisted crazily.  Denisov caught at his arms in an attempt to halt his movement.
Taylor raised a glove and wiped his plastic face shield.  He moved forward along the Space Station’s truss, reaching for the stricken cosmonaut.
“This is a critical failure!” Denisov shouted on the radio as he stared in horror at the gauges on Zimin’s suit.  “We have to move back to the airlock!”
Reaching behind Zimin, Taylor got the leaking tube kinked off.  He gave the man a push back towards the hatch they had come out of.
Taylor glanced up, remembering the coil of wire.  He saw it drifting placidly away, out of reach and undoubtedly gone for good.



Like everyone at NASA, personnel director Harrison Franks had been following the situation aboard the ISS.  Like some people, he knew that the problems were quickly compounding into a full-scale disaster.  Like very few, he had gotten a phone call from The Boss about it.
The Administrator of NASA was the leader of the space agency, and served as an advisor to the President.  Franks was more than a little surprised to find himself in a conversation with the man, as it wasn’t every day that the The Boss wanted to talk to a lowly personnel director like him.
“Are you aware of the failed attempt to get the solar array back online?”  The Administrator’s voice sounded rough.  Franks could sympathize.  A life-threatening crisis in space was stressful to any member of NASA.
“Yes, sir.  I know that they won’t be able to get the electricity they need.”  That information had come in only minutes before.  Franks was proud to say that he kept up on the news.
The Boss seemed unimpressed.  “The Russians only have one Rus ready to go.  It’s going to be about a week before they can scramble another one to launch.  Now I want you to listen to me very carefully.  The Station doesn’t have that kind of time.  They’ve got three days, max.”
“I understand,” said Franks.  It sounded like the Administrator was leading up to something, but what?
“The first Rus can be there tomorrow.  The problem is, it only has seats to bring four passengers back to Earth.  The Soyuz escape capsule seats three.  That leaves four astronauts aboard.  The life support doesn’t have enough power to last until they can be rescued.”
“You called me for a reason.  What do you want me to do?” asked Franks.  “Are you asking for a miracle?”
The Administrator sighed heavily.  “For lack of a better word, yes.  Gather engineers, pilots, survival experts, or anyone else you can think of who can help.  We need to start working on this right now with the best minds, and a whole lot of them.”
“Sir, I don’t know if I can do that,” said Franks.  “By the time we get everyone together and working, it might be too late.”
“Goddamn it!  If we could improvise-on-the-fly in 1970 with Apollo 13, we can do it now!  I’m writing you a blank check to get whatever you need to do this.  Your whole life comes down to this, Franks.  Make it happen.”  The Administrator terminated the call.
Franks sat numbly at his desk, listening to the buzz of the dial tone for a moment.  His hand moved slowly as he set down the phone receiver.  Only a few months before, the six ponies had come through his office.  He’d met them only briefly, but he knew that they certainly didn’t deserve to die.  While he’d never been introduced to any of the other astronauts currently in space, they didn’t deserve to meet their end, either.
He grabbed a pencil and sketched out on a sheet of paper the parameters of what he needed to accomplish.  Assuming the rescue craft arrived as planned, and the Soyuz capsule worked, there would still be four lives left aboard.  They would need a week of life support in order to survive.
Franks sighed.  It looked like an impossible task.  Where would they manage to come up with the resources to do this?  The ISS orbited at two hundred miles above the Earth.  While it didn’t sound that far, only a few hours’ drive in a car, it was still a huge obstacle.
He picked up the phone again.  If this plan was going to work, he had to get started now.



“You didn’t get it fixed?” asked Twilight.  The entire cadre of astronauts was crowded into Station’s systems control center.  All of them were tense and feeling the stress of the situation.
Fournier shook her head.  “There was a spacesuit failure, and the spare wire was lost.”
“Just great,” said Rainbow.
Fluttershy whimpered something incomprehensible.
“How does bad stuff keep happenin’?” said Applejack.  “Ah don’t know much about space, but this can’t be normal.”
“Let’s see,” said Taylor.  He counted on his fingers.  “There was the arm failure that caused the leak.  The power transfer cable failed and put us in blackout mode.  The battery sensor malfunctioned, giving us bad readings.  On top of all that, one of the spacesuits blew a gasket and we lost the only wire we can replace the power cable with.”
“Oh my gosh,” said Pinkie.  “What else could go wrong?”
“Don’t ask,” murmured Rarity.
“It’s very strange,” said Denisov.  “A series of failures like this is an amazing coincidence.”
Twilight shook her head.  “I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“What else could it be?” asked Rainbow.  She looked hard at Twilight.  “Are you suggesting that somepony caused all this?”
“All these unrelated failures…”  Taylor couldn’t believe that anyone aboard the station would deliberately damage the equipment.  And yet… it was still easier to swallow than the fact that so many problems had occurred in such a short period with no explanation.
“Why would that happen?” asked Zimin.  “Why would all this suddenly begin after we came aboard?”
Fournier looked at the group of ponies.  “Could it be… magic?”
“I can’t believe you would say that!” shouted Twilight.  “Any anyway, why would we sabotage things?  We’re in just as much danger as you!”
“How could we have done any of that stuff?” interjected Applejack.  “If anything, I’d say you humans are the more likely culprits!  You’re the ones that actually understand all this fancy equipment.”
Once the eleven-way argument was started, it very nearly devolved into a shouting match.  A voice on the radio from ground control demanded that they calm down before they used up all their oxygen.
“Just wait one more day,” begged the ground controller in a calmer voice.  “We’ll get someone up there to rescue you.”
Outside the Station, a few stars were obscured by an evil presence.  The black cloud of the Nightmare drew closer, drawn by the siren call of anger and distrust.


Thanks once again to Fernin for editing.  Seriously, this guy's like an awesome-wizard or something.