Executive Intent

Next order of business was to make sure the suits were plugged in, turned on, and functioning. The suits had valves to close off the umbilical lines once disconnected, so Boomer and McCallum had a good supply of breathing air. Each suit had a backup battery to power lights and a short-range single-frequency radio, and he turned that on as well. Both suits had carbon-dioxide scrubbers that should keep CO₂ levels at survivable levels for several hours-a simple pull of a tab activated the first of two canisters in each suit. That gave Boomer a chance to look at McCallum’s suit control panel, and he was pleased to see his pulse light blinking-weak, but it was a pulse-and good oxygen-saturation levels.

“Thank God,” he said aloud. “Hang in there, Jeff. If we’re still alive, we’ve still got work to do.”

Boomer thought of waiting to activate the distress beacon until Stud Two was on its way to this orbit, but just in case the CO₂ scrubbers didn’t work and he was rendered unconscious, he decided to activate his beacon and use Jeff’s as a backup. Another quick pull of a tab, and the beacon was on. It was meant for use after ejection when on the ground, but supposedly it would work just as well in space. He made sure his Electronic Elastomeric Activity Suit was on battery power-that was one thing McCallum didn’t have to worry about; Jeff’s suit was fully inflated. The survival kits had emergency oxygen bottles that would refresh the air in the suits for a few hours after the CO₂ scrubbers were saturated-rescue was imperative after that.

There was nothing left to do but float. “Hey, Jeff,” he radioed over to McCallum, hoping he was listening while still unconscious, “I’m surprised that I’m so damned calm. Here we are, adrift orbiting around planet Earth and, if not rescued in time, our lifeless bodies will eventually become meteorites. I’m not scared. In fact, I’m relaxed and kind of enjoying the view. I know help is on the way, and our equipment is actually working as advertised. We’re good for now.”

He kept on talking, telling stories, doing imaginary interviews about this experience with beautiful and adoring news anchors, telling Jeff which landmarks he was able to see on Earth, and even remarking that he thought he saw Armstrong Space Station whiz by. “I waved my arms, but I guess they couldn’t see me,” Boomer deadpanned.

Sometime later, he began wondering if he had made the right decision by abandoning the Black Stallion-but at that instant he noticed a bright flash of light off in the distance. “That blast surely did her in,” he radioed. “You did good protecting us, old girl. Hope to see you when you reenter.”

“Are you talking to me, Boomer?” he heard a voice ask.

“Jeff!” Boomer raised the dark visor on McCallum’s helmet and was relieved beyond words to see his eyes open. “You’re awake! How do you feel?”

“Like my head’s ready to explode,” McCallum said weakly. He looked around. “Where are we?”

“Adrift,” Boomer replied.

“What?”

“Easy, Jeff, easy,” Boomer said. “We abandoned the Stud a little more than an hour ago. Kingfisher-Eight exploded and creamed the ship. I think the Stud just blew.”

“My God,” McCallum breathed. Boomer didn’t need to check his respiration blinker to know McCallum was on the verge of panicking. “Are we going to die out here? Are we going to freeze to death?”

“Relax, bro,” Boomer said. “We’re more likely to overheat. In space, there’s no air to radiate heat away from our bodies, so it all gets trapped inside our suits. Relax. They’re on their way to get us.”

“We have no air?”

“Just what was in our suits when I disconnected us from the ship,” Boomer said. “The survival kits have emergency bottles, and if you need it I can hook you up. But the C-oh-two scrubbers will remove the carbon dioxide for hours.”

“Then what?”

“We’ll be rescued before then, Jeff, don’t worry,” Boomer said, hoping he sounded convincing enough. “The general launched Stud Two after us, and we have a locator beacon going. Another hour or two and we should be headed back to the station.”

“This is insane. We’re going to die out here!” McCallum cried. Just as Boomer heard him beginning to hyperventilate, McCallum reached up to the locking mechanism of his helmet. “I can’t breathe, man, help me get this damned thing off!”

“Jeff, no!” Boomer shouted, pulling McCallum’s hands away from his helmet latches-watching carefully to be sure McCallum didn’t reach for his gear, like a panicked swimmer pulling a lifeguard under. “Jeff, listen to me, listen! We’re going to be okay. We’re safe inside our suits, we’re not going to freeze to death, and we have plenty of air. You’ve got to relax! We’re going to make it!”

“Why did you do this to me, Noble?” McCallum screamed. “Why did you push me out of the ship?”

“It was going to explode. I had to-”

“Things don’t explode in outer space, you idiot!” McCallum shouted. “How can something explode without air? You killed me, you stupid jerk!”