Henrik Refsnes

I have a plan. Bear with me here. I’m going to slingshot the Ark into the moon. I know, I know, but Al’s scans show another object in orbit large enough to alter the trajectory we’re on. An Icarus-class carrier, or rear end of it anyway. Hooking up a cable between us will be enough to drag the Ark out of Earth’s gravity well, and if disconnected at the right time, swing us straight into the moon.

Al’s done the math, and I don’t know how many simulations. Theoretically it can work. It’s almost fifty-fifty and far better than anything else I got going, so I’ll take it. Needless to say, there’s a few kinks to work out first.

The Icarus gets further away with each revolution, and the longer I wait, the longer cable I’ll need. Cable I don’t even know if I have. There’s also a breaking point where it won’t work, so the timetable has moved up. 88 fucking hours. That’s a lot of leeway to make up, just when I thought things couldn’t get more stressful.

Then there’s the issue of timing and accuracy. First, I need to get to the Icarus by launching myself into space using the repair rig thrusters. That’s the easy part. If I miss, I can use the cable to reel myself back in and try again next pass.

Until there is no next pass.

Once I’m actually on the Icarus, I have a preciously small window of time to weld the cable in place. When it goes taut, I have to release 17.3 seconds later to hit that surprisingly small pale-faced bullseye.

That’s where the probability of success goes way down.

I’ll rig the cable mount with explosives so I can release it remotely, but if I’m not back on the ark by then—well, then I’m dead.

Provided all that works out, then there’s the moon. On the positive, there’s less gravity to worry about and crashing into the lunar shipyard will break impact. There’s also plenty flotsam along the way I can harpoon, small enough not to alter course, but large enough to slow the speed of the Ark. If I can make a parachute of space junk, in theory, touchdown should only be a bit of a dusting.

Habitat and cryonics should survive.

In theory.

If I can even hit the moon in the first place.

But hey, I’m a space pirate now. We do this shit before breakfast. Sailing close to the wind? You betcha. Al, queue the music. We’re in construction mode.