The Krone Experiment by J. Craig Wheeler Page A

fire, but I shouldn’t have lost track of the time. He’s
torched the upper pair of thrusters. Now he’s leaning over and
cutting a hole in the top edge of the wing projection. Another one
in the hull just above the wing. Oh, man! He’s using those holds to
lower himself down toward the next wing, dropping back against the
rotation from our point of view. It’s not working! The centrifugal
force throws him out. It’s a little too far; he ca’’t get a foot
straight down!
    “He’s hauled himself back up and is lying
prone on the wing, reaching way down to cut another hole in the
hull.”
    Jupp was silent for a few moments.
    “It’s a foothold! He’s hanging down again and
has a foot in that new hole. He’s down; he’s got a foot on the
other wing. He’s got a hand in the foothold, both feet down. He
made it! Damnation! That clown is good!”
    Newman applied the torch to the thruster pair
near him and then began to cut holds and work his way toward the
pair of thrusters to his right at the bottom end of the long
cylinder. Midway along he came to the large ominous port that
housed the laser. It spanned the distance from his belt to his
throat as he paused before it and reached for the torch.
    The satellite had rotated the port away from
them and Jupp felt more than saw a brief glow. Over the radio they
heard what might have been the start of a scream, but the lungs
that were attempting to drive it vanished, and the sound came out a
choked sigh.
    Jupp watched in horror as the satellite
rotated, now in seemingly infinitely slow motion. Before the laser
port came into view he saw the legs, thrown off by the centrifugal
force. Legs, ending at the waist of the suit, twisting slowly off
into oblivion, followed by a piece of the backpack with the torch
still dangling from it. The next stubby wing swept by and he could
see the remaining ghastly tableau. The left hand was still wedged
into one of the freshly cut hand holds. The arm led to shoulders,
another arm, the head above, but nothing below, the torso blasted
cleanly away. The truncated assemblage, flung centrifugally out
from the side of the satellite, rotated slowly out of view.
    Jupp felt an intense nauseous sweat break out
on his forehead and sweep down through his body. He breathed deeply
to keep his stomach. Finally he realized Wahlquist was screaming at
him.
    “Ed! Ed! For god’s sake what happened?! Ed?
Answer me!”
    “The laser,” he finally croaked. “It went off
when he was right in front of it. He’s gone.”
    “What do you mean went off? It couldn’t have
been time.
    “No. No, you’re right,” Jupp looked at the
clock. “It could only have been about twelve minutes.” He lay back
in his seat. “Maybe it was triggered prematurely somehow. A trip
device, some signal from the ground. Not full power, but enough to
kill a man. I don’t know. But it sure happened. God!” he exclaimed
as the laser port and the remains of its victim swung into view
again.
    “We’ve got to get out of here!” exploded
Wahlquist, near hysteria.
    Jupp thought for a moment, his head spinning,
rationality almost out of grasp. Then order settled in, years of
training asserting its influence.
    “Larry! Listen to me!” He spoke sternly,
commanding his copilot to calm down. “We can’t go down.”
    “We’ve got to!”
    “Listen to me! We can’t take a shot from that
laser. A direct hit and we’ve bought it. I can’t fly and position
the mirror at the same time. You can’t see where to put the mirror,
and it probably won’t give us much protection anyway, damaged as it
is. Besides we came up here to do a job. A damn good man just got
killed for this mission. We’ve got to see it through.”
    “I’m blind, goddamn it. I’m no good. Are you
going to take that thing on single-handed?”
    Jupp was silent a moment, then answered.
    “Yes. But you can help. I’ll get into it and
disable the power. Then I’ll tell you where to guide the boom so we
can grab on