THE pylon was a structural component designed to impart rigidity in a way somewhat like tent pole. To achieve this, it was held in a flexed state by tension lines while its mountings and connection to the structure were secured. One of these; lines had parted, and in recoiling had whiplashed through the partly completed supports, causing the pylon and some of the structure to break away. Arvin and the two rookies, Nancy and another called Cliff, had been snagged on their way out to haul materials from a floating supply dump left by the Constellation. Three emergency craft were in pursuit and one was closing in, but the pilot was baffled as to how to match course with such a wildly cavorting target. The masses and the two cables bounced like connected weights and springs as they spun, setting up complex wave motions that propagated back and forth, defying prediction.
"Nancy, now listen to me. I want you to take a long breath, and then concentrate on what you have to do. Okay? Don't look at any shiny surfaces. You're not hurt as bad as it seems. The force pattern is making it look worse. Do you understand, Nancy?" A doctor from the Construction Shack's Emergency Room had arrived in the communications area. Nancy had recovered her faculties partly, but she panicked when she saw a reflection of herself in a panel escutcheon. Now she was calming down again. Cliff had taken a knock on the head and seemed to be out cold. Arvin had been flung against the pilot's console, and according to Nancy was conscious but only semi-coherent. She described his arm as being in an odd position and said he was in too much pain to move. Apparently the station director, Kelsoe, at Grayling, was now in touch with Director Earle, in the Shack's Control Room.
"She needs to enable the capsule's diagnostics for remote access so we can read them from here," the engineer who had gotten the view from inside said over his shoulder. "That capsule has to have taken some damage. We need a report on it."
"How does she do that?" the doctor asked.
"She has to activate the engineer's panel, then feed in some commands. Let me direct her."
The doctor looked back at the screen. "Nancy, do you hear me? . . . Nancy?" Nancy nodded once, blankly. "I want you to listen to Mr. Quine now. There are some things you have to do there for us. They're simple but very important. Now listen carefully. Okay?"
"Okay, Nancy, first, locate the System Mode switch, and make sure it's at 'CMD/MON.' Got that? Now go to your panel, and hit Reset. You should get the System Initialize screen . . . "
Ullerman and the CR officers were watching another screen showing a transmission from the emergency flier trying to maneuver in. The capsule was visibly deformed and buckling where the turn of cable snaked around it. It grew larger, seemed to steady for a second or two, and then vanished suddenly in a different direction. On the engineer's screen, Nancy lurched to one side and clutched at a piece of bracing. A cry of pain, recognizably Arvin, sounded in the background. The view from the flier showed the piece of snarled wreckage enlarging suddenly as it hurtled toward the camera—"Jesus!"—then sliding away as the pilot evaded.
The pilot's voice came through again. "This is no good! It's like trying to second-guess two elastic yo-yos tied together."
Finally, the diagnostics of the capsule's systems came up on an auxiliary screen on Quine's console. "How's it looking?" Ullerman asked him.
The engineer scanned the numbers, then shook his head gravely. "Not good. Their main power's out. They're on emergency . . . And the air reserve is way down. The shell is breached somewhere. Frankly, I'm surprised it's still in one piece. That cable wrapped around it might be all that's holding it together. But it can't take much more of this."
"Can she get them into suits?" one of the CR officers asked, turning from the screen that was showing Kelsoe and the others at Grayling. "It might give us more time to work something out."
The doctor shook his head. "No chance. She's still in shock. It's a miracle she's been able to do this much."
"Those fliers are gonna run out of range before much longer," the other CR officer said.
"Is there some way they can cut the lines?" somebody among Kelsoe's staff suggested from Grayling. They had been joined on the Bridge there by Colonel Weyer, chief of the military command at Grayling, who reported directly to Kelsoe.
"Maybe if we were equipped with laser artillery," the rescue pilot's voice answered, sounding sarcastic in his exasperation. "But we're not."
A numbed hush fell over the room. The juniors waited for the authorities to come up with something. The authorities were at a loss. All of them watched the screens, waiting for the tragedy to play itself out.
Then Linc looked across at Captain Ullerman. Ullerman sensed him from the corner of his eye and turned his head. "I think I know how we can cut the cable," Linc said. The CR officers pushed on the handrails to turn toward him. Linc hesitated. Ullerman nodded for him to go ahead. "Could we back up on that sequence we just had from the rescue flier?" Linc said, looking at the engineer, Quine. "I thought I saw something."
The officer in charge nodded. Quine played with keys on his console. The view coming in from the flier stopped for a second, then went into fast-motion reverse. Linc waited until the lattice section flew into view, almost filling the screen, then began shrinking. Running backward, it was the instant just before the pilot had been forced to evade. "Freeze it there," Linc said. "Now run it forward again slowly . . . more . . . a bit more . . . Now hold." Linc pointed. Something bright yellow was lodged among the tangle of struts and girders. It was one of the remote-operated waldos used for general construction. "It's there at the other end of the line from the capsule," Linc said. "It has its own cutter. We can control it from here—right here in the Shack."