"We've got significant hull warming, Chris," Lucy reported. He could hear the stress hiding in her calm voice.
"It's well within safety limits," Bob replied for him. "I'm more worried about the propulsion section right now."
"We're too heavy with it still attached, I know," Chris said. "We can only hope it might help us stay upright during the descent."
"That would be nice," Bob snorted. "But sixty tons of extra weight hanging off her tail is stressing the descent fins and limiting their effect."
"The fins don't slow us down. The landing boosters deal with that."
"No, but they do ensure we land in the right place," said Bob. "We've got a lateral drift of three K.P.H. right now and it's increasing."
"That's enough to put us over a kilometre off-target," Lucy added.
"Not much we can do about that right now," Chris replied. "We can walk a kilometre."
"Won't sixty tons of extra weight overload the landing boosters?" she asked.
"That's a much better point," Chris replied. "I can't do the maths in my head, but the boosters are tuned to neatly land our expected mass on the surface. Sixty extra tons is going to bring us up from 180 tons to 240 tons."
"That's going to be a heavy landing!" growled Bob.
"Yeah, worse, the landing feet won't reach the ground. They won't cushion our landing at all."
"Do they make much difference?" Lucy asked.
"They're basically massive shock absorbers," he replied. "Without them, any landing is going to be heavy and a heavy landing is going to cause structural damage."
"And we'll probably fall over," said Bob.
Chris laughed nervously. "That might actually be an improvement. If we land straight, the link frame between the Propulsion Module and Command Module will probably collapse. We'll be trapped in here, with this module sitting on its own airlock."
"We won't be able to get out?" Lucy asked.
"There's always a way," he replied. "But it might take a while."
"And, as you said, we don't have time for that," she added. "We'll need to get to the cryonic pods as quickly as we can."
"Okay. I'll get down there, use an E.V.A. suit and trigger the manual separation system."
"Sorry, Commander," said Bob. "You know that's not your job."
"We haven't got time to debate this. And I'm not going to order someone else to do it, it's too dangerous."
"That's exactly why you can't do it, Commander. And you don't need to order me, I'm volunteering," announced Bob, releasing his harness.
"Fine," Chris sighed. "You'll need to use one of the E.V.A. suits in the auxiliary storage deck."
"I'm ahead of you, Commander," Bob smiled. His experience with micro-gravity showed in the ease with which he pulled himself across to the hatch in the centre of the floor and started to rapidly to wind the wheel to unseal it.
"Chuck, you go too and help him get suited up," Chris ordered.
"Will do, Commander." Chuck nodded and threw off his five-point harness.
Bob dropped headfirst through the open hatch with Chuck travelling through it soon after him. Moments later, one of them resealed the hatch.
"It's going to take them a while to get down to the hatch room and get suited up," Chris said. "How long until we reach the surface, Lucy?"
"Just under twenty minutes," she replied.
"This is going to be tight."
"How long will it take for him to get into an E.V.A. suit?"
"He's more experienced than me. Maybe four or five minutes with Chuck's help. Having help will really speed up the operation."
"And how long to get outside to the manual release?"
"The airlock cycle takes almost two minutes. I'm guessing, if the turbulence out there isn't too bad, he can get to the release in another four or five minutes."
"There's eighteen minutes left. There's only going to be six minutes leeway. That's not much!"
"It's worse than that. The first firing of the landing boosters is ninety seconds before touchdown."
"Are we going to die?"
"Not if I can help it," he smiled, even though she had her back to him. "If we can get to the ground in one piece, everything else is fixable."
"If Bob can't do that manual release in time, we're not going to get down in one piece, are we?"
"What's the hull temperature reading now?" he asked, in what he knew was a weak attempt to change the subject.
"Reaching five hundred degrees," she replied after looking at her tablet screen. "Do we know if the heat-shielding is all intact?"
"We'd be dead by now if the shielding had any holes in it."
"That's reassuring," she laughed nervously.
The tablet computer attached to the swinging arm in front of Chris' seat was supposed to give him detailed feedback across a range of critical systems in the Elysian. With Foxy down and most of the many sensors without power, it was largely blank with some panels showing error messages such as "No signal" or "No data received".
He pulled up a settings menu and swapped the dead internal pressures panel for the ground distance radar display instead. At least that was giving some data, although the rapidly decreasing figure was unsettling. He was about to ask for another time check when his handheld radio gave a crackly beep. He unclipped it from his shoulder and hit the transmit button.
"How's it going? Over."
There was a pause, with more crackling, then Chuck's voice burst from the speaker. "I'm in the corridor above the hatch room. The hatch room outer doors are compromised so we're using the auxiliary storage deck as an airlock. Over."
"That means all our other E.V.A. suits are in the depressurised area," Chris sighed, not pressing the transmit button.
"Bob said he'll radio when he's opened the outer doors. I've patched his suit radio into the handheld frequency. Over," Chuck continued.
Chris hit the transmit button. "Any idea how bad the airlock doors are? Over." He released the button. "If Bob can't open the airlock, we've got a serious problem."
"We don't have time for another serious problem," Lucy replied.
"No idea yet," Chuck replied over the radio. "Best guess would be an impact against the doors. Hoping it's not structural. Over."
They waited in silence for a couple of minutes. Chris stared at the rolling digits on his screen and decided he did not want to know how much time was left before those boosters fired. A chilling thought crossed his mind at that point: Before the power ran out, Foxy had programmed one of the tablet computers to monitor the ground radar feed and fire the boosters at the appropriate moment. That sounded simple enough, but there was no way to know if the boosters were undamaged. If not all four boosters fired simultaneously, the Elysian would start to tumble, compromising the heatshield. It would be a fiery, spinning death followed by slamming into the rocky surface below.
If none of the boosters fired, everything would probably stay as it was now, until the instant that the Elysian slammed, full force, into the rocks. Both outcomes would be fatal but, given the choice, a total failure seemed like the most acceptable way to die.
"Outer airlock doors open. Over," came Bob's voice over the radio.
Chris hit the button again. "What's the damage like? Over."
"Minor, but the doors have to be cranked. I'm closing them again now. Over."
"Is the inner airlock door sealed? Over."
"Yes, Commander. Over."
"Leave the outer doors open just enough for you to get back in. You'll only have sixty seconds to get back in before the explosive bolts go off. There won't be time to hand crank the doors open first."
"No, Commander. There won't be enough time to get from the release lever, pull myself back into the airlock and crank the doors shut. There's a lot of flame up the outside of the ship. Without the airlock doors closed, the heatshield will be compromised. Over."
"If you don't leave those doors open, Bob, you won't be able to get back inside!"
"If I leave that airlock open, as soon as the propulsion module detaches, there will be flames jetting up into the airlock. The inner doors are not substantial enough to take that. Over."
"Bob, just leave the door open enough to squeeze through. Once you pull that lever, you'll have time to get back inside and start cranking the door. The airlock can take the heat for a minute or two while you crank the door!"
"You have no idea how hot it is out here, Chris. Over."
"Bob, I'm ordering you."
"Chris, this is what's best for the mission. You know that. Been a pleasure serving with you all. Out."
A new window opened on Chris' tablet screen. It was a couple of seconds into a sixty-second countdown.
"He's pulled the lever," said Lucy quietly.
Chris hit the transmit button again. "Chuck, get the other E.V.A. suit on and get into the hatch room as soon as you can."
"I heard what he said, Commander," Chuck replied matter-of-factly. "There's no way I can get out there before the bolts go."
"Shit!" Chris shouted, not even sure if he had pressed the transmit button or not.
"He knows what he's doing," said Lucy.
"What he's doing is killing himself!"
"Twenty seconds," she reported.
"Bob! Bob!" Chris shouted into his handset, knowing it was futile but unable to let it just go.
"His radio is off," replied Chuck.
"The idiot! There's nothing we can do."
"It's too late now," said Lucy.
They watched in silence as the last few seconds counted down. There was a brief shimmy, felt through their seats but barely noticeable above the growing turbulence outside. A dulled thud followed a second later.
"Hull warming has increased substantially," Lucy reported, breaking the solemn silence.
"The Propulsion Module was taking a chunk of the heat. I'm guessing it's fallen away a little."
"Ground radar is showing three metres and increasing!" she exclaimed. "Have the boosters fired?"
"No. There's a massive kick when they fire. The ship's going to shake a lot while they're active."
"On my way back up, Commander. Over," came Chuck's voice over the radio.
"Don't be long," replied Lucy, with her handset. "You've only got a couple of minutes before the boosters fire."
"I'll be there. Over," said Chuck.
"Ground radar is reading six metres now," Lucy reported as she clipped her handset back onto her shoulder.
"It's picking up the propulsion section. It must have slid across into the beam. The boosters won't fire if they can't detect the ground approaching."
"Eight metres now. Why's it falling faster than us?"
"The Command Module's got six descent fins out. Their purpose is to steer us but they do that by controlling drag."
"Over ten metres now."
"I wish we could see what's going on down there. How long's left now?"
"Hard to say as I've got no figures from Foxy now," she replied, "but I'd guess two, maybe three, minutes. The ground radar is showing twelve metres...hang on..."
"I can see it on my screen," Chris interrupted. "I think it's finally moved to one side. The number's back up to nine kilometres. Twenty seconds to boosters."
Lucy hit the transmit button on her radio and shouted, "Everyone brace!"
"Where's Chuck?"
Lucy was checking her harness when the boosters fired, instantly slamming both of them deeper into the padding of their seats. For a few moments, it was impossible to speak. The crushing force and deafening sound made it hard to even think properly. The boosters seemed to be doing their job but the figure on the screen was still decreasing at an unnerving rate.
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