Orbital

Eighteen Puzzle Box

The first time I’m aware that anyone hijacked a rival government’s satellite took place in the early 1960s. The Soviets were sending one of their Lunik space probes on a world tour to show off the success of their space program. Some CIA operatives got a peek at the probe when it was at a Mexican museum and realized it wasn’t just a mockup, it was the real deal. When they tried to send some technicians to look at the thing, a 24-hour Soviet guard was there.

Not deterred, when the satellite was being shipped across Mexico, the CIA stopped the truck driver, took him to a hotel where there was probably plenty of alcohol maybe a señorita or two for company and had their technicians take the thing apart before sending it back with the driver to its next destination.

Of course, that was on Earth. I don’t know if I’m the first one to try satellite espionage in orbit. And if I pull this off right, nobody will ever know.

I just use one small jet of compressed air to send me towards the 626. No need to go in too fast and use up my rocket gun trying to slow down.

The satellite is a dark copper cylinder with a spherical airlock facing me and a cone on the other end. Two arrays of solar panels are spread out on either side like rectangular wings.

It’s interesting how each country’s hardware has its own look. While iCosmos and SpaceX tend to look twenty years ahead of NASA, they’re both in the same family and feel like someone trying to channel Star Trek. The Russian gear looks like it was made by twenty different plumbing companies. Chinese equipment, while early on was based on Russian designs, uses gold foil anywhere they possibly can.

I swing my legs out and make contact with the 626. Before I drift away, I let the rocket gun hang on its wrist strap and grab a tether from my waist and clamp it to the handle above the airlock.

“Ops, I’m connected to the CS.”

The hatch is covered in labels written in Chinese characters. My heads up display is able to translate them for me on the fly, but not taking any chances, we have a CIA linguist on the line watching my video feed.

“Everything appears like the mockup. Does our expert have anything to add?”

A new female voice speaks into the comm. “You’re looking good, Mongoose. Your augmented translations appear accurate to me. I’ll be standing by if you need anything.”

“Thanks. Checking the interior pressure now.”

There’s a small meter built into the door that shows if there’s any atmosphere inside the airlock.

“The needle is on zero. Proceeding with the lock.”

While the idea of someone trying to land on a satellite and do what I’m about to do is an utter absurdity, the Chinese were prepared for the contingency if the CS crashed on Earth and they didn’t want anybody getting immediate access if the thing miraculously survived.

Because the satellite is vulnerable to solar flares, computer problems and power issues, to the left of the hatch handle there’s a slot designed for a mechanical key. This is where one of the many cool tools attached to my belt comes in handy.

I place a handle-sized cylinder over the hole and press the button. There’s glow of red light underneath as it sends hundreds of shape-shifting metallic threads into the opening. They fill up the space then the red light changes to green. I give the handle a twist and feel the satisfying vibration of the lock releasing.

“I’ve unlocked the CS.”

“You sound down about it,” says Laney. “Are you upset you didn’t get to cut it open with the plasma torch?”

“Maybe…”

“Yeah, well, that plasma cutter of yours may look like a lightsaber, but on an infrared telescope, it’ll look like 3,000 degrees of hey-look-at-me. You have to assume they’re watching this satellite right now. We know they’re watching ours.”

When there was a discussion about which of our satellites we could aim at the CS626, Laney pulled out her phone and showed a real-time tracking app that showed all the spy sats in orbit and explained how easy it was to use another app to rent a space telescope for a live video feed of that trajectory.

While that would provide the detail of the NRO constellation we ended up using, it was a good reminder to the others in the room that civilian technology gap is almost negligible.

“Opening the hatch.”

I brace one hand on a rail and use the other to open the door to the CS. It swings open fairly easily, revealing the hollow sphere of the airlock.

“Entering the CS. Detaching the tether.”

I take the lifeline that connects me to the DarkStar and clamp it to the handle of the satellite, then shove my gear bag inside the chamber.

“Closing the hatch.”

I pull the door shut and give the handle a twist. I have a moment of panic at the thought that I could have just locked myself inside. That wouldn’t be a total loss. They’d have to let me use my lightsaber then…

“Hatch closed. Can you read me?”

“Perfectly, Mongoose. Please keep an eye on your radiation sensor.”

“Will do…” I freeze as I notice the green bars are more yellow. “It’s green and yellow.”

“That’s not good. Hold on. Talking to the doc.”

While I wait, I check the pressure gauge on the inner airlock dock. It’s at one atmosphere.

Back in the Gemini and Apollo days they’d get away with a lower pressure atmosphere by increasing the oxygen. While this saved on structural materials, it made for a very dangerous working environment that killed three US astronauts, one cosmonaut and almost ended the lives of several others.

Now the standard operating procedure in space is to keep any environment where people are going to be at one atmosphere with the standard mix of oxygen and nitrogen.

This is also common practice for unmanned equipment where you want your computer and other hardware working in an environment roughly equal to what you have on ground.

“Okay, David. You can proceed. But keep an eye on the readout. It’s probably going to get hotter in there. We recommend putting your visor down so you’re shielded.”

“Fair enough.” I swing the black shield into place and rely on the video projection from the camera mounted on my helmet. I’ve spent thousands of hours on Earth working like this in training, so it’s not a big deal.

“The satellite is pressurized. I’m going to vent canister one until I’m equalized.”

Because I don’t have access to the satellites airlock controls, I have to use the air I brought with me to fill this airlock so I don’t cause a decompression problem.

On a large station with lots of air space, it’s not a big deal if you gradually vent from the larger volume into the smaller. Here, where the airlock is probably ten percent the size of the satellite, that could cause a problem. Plus, it might have a safeguard that stops me.

I turn the handle and see a vapor cloud shoot out from the nozzle. After a few seconds I can hear the sound of the gas escaping when there’s enough atmosphere to conduct sound.

“Okay. I have one atmosphere. Opening the inner hatch.”