Page 54 of Across the Universe

The collective breath of Bill, Todd, and everyone on the ground hangs in the atmosphere as Bill tries to block out the memory of his first practice attempt at this very task. He cannot afford to psych himself out now, and he won't. Bill is in space. Right now, he is performing the very task he's dreamed of for the past several years. He is inches from a successful mission, and then the only thing he needs to do is command the ship, re-enter Earth's atmosphere, and land safely.

Breathe, Bill commands himself.Breathe. Do not pass out.

He feels the thud of the R&R connecting with the nose cone, and with a silent prayer, he pushes the buttons to engage the docking latches.

"Latches are connected. Locking is confirmed," Bill says into his headset.

Everyone pauses; there is a moment where his message travels back to Earth, and he and Todd wait for any sort of signal from inside the space craft that might indicate the need to do things over. But everything has been successful. In one go, Bill has connected the space craft with another vehicle, effectively docking them in space for the very first time.

"All systems go," Vance says from mission control. An extremely loud cheer goes up from the ground, and Bill smiles. His eyes fill with tears. He's done it. He and Todd have flown six-and-a-half hours away from the earth, and he has connected two space craft.

"All clear here on Gemini," Todd says, observing the dashboard in front of him. He and Bill exchange another thumbs-up as the cheering continues at Cape Kennedy.

"Docking mission complete. Gemini is cleared to release contact with the TDA and change course," Vance says.

"Copy that," Todd says. Bill repeats him.

There is a moment of total satisfaction, of genuine joy, as they back away from the other vehicle, but the insistent blinking of a thruster warning on the dash catches Bill's eye. He punches the button and skims the rest of the panel.

"Thruster warning," Bill says to Todd, although, in turn, mission control hears that they have an issue.

"Gemini, give us your reading," Arvin North says, breaking into the conversation.

"Thruster number eight of the orbital maneuvering system is giving us a malfunction warning," Bill says, panic rising inside of him. "I can't figure out how to get it to stop blinking at me."

"Bill, we're rolling," Todd says calmly, but Bill has already realized that their spacecraft is in motion.

"Gemini to mission control," Bill says. "We're in a roll."

There are muttered and muted conversations on the ground, and then Arvin North's voice comes through loud and clear. "Describe the roll," he says brusquely.

"Thirty degrees, counterclockwise," Bill says, feeling his stomach tumble uncomfortably as the roll picks up its pace.

"Oh, God," Todd says. "We're in a violent oscillation. It cannot be stopped."

Bill hears the resignation in his pilot's voice and he wants to reach back and slap Todd, as you would a hysterical person, but they're suited up and in a massive roll, so he closes his eyes briefly and then opens them, picking a spot right ahead of him to stare at.

"We're going to stop it," Bill says, as much to himself and to Todd Roman as to mission control. "We need to stop this."

Bill tries a few things, but he's quickly becoming so disoriented that he knows he might pass out. He slams a switch, and the roll slows, causing a loud, grinding sound in the spacecraft’s engine.

"Ohhhh," Todd moans, sounding as though he’s going to be sick. "Bill. That might have done it."

"Gemini." Arvin North's voice rings in Bill's ears, but he's doing his best to stay conscious and to wait out the continued motion as the craft slows down.

But then, seemingly out of nowhere, the roll begins again, this time at a much more rapid pace.

"Gemini to ground control," Bill says. "Commander Bill Booker reporting that… we’re... in a catastrophic… roll." Every word is painful as Bill tries to keep his voice clear. Talking hurts his head and his chest, and the pressure is almost more than he can bear. "This can't end well," he says, though he isn't sure if the words actually come out of his mouth.

"Gemini, you're in a rotation that's approaching a hundred degrees per second," Arvin North says gravely. "I need you to do what you did to slow the first roll. Can you re-try the first method?"

Bill hears the words, but he isn't processing them. A part of him is already accepting his fate, which will be easier than the physical sensations of pressure and motion sickness. For a split second, Bill prays for the sweet release of death, hoping to end the feelings that are overtaking him.

"One hundred fifty degrees per second," Vance Majors says. "We read the roll at one fifty, Bill and Todd." There is deep concern in his voice. Genuine fear.

“I... can't..." Todd is trying to speak, but Bill knows that the pressure is almost unbearable. Todd might pass out before him. Or maybe he'll go first. Bill has begun to think about who will die first and who will remain until the bitter end.

"Roll is rapidly approaching one revolution per second," Vance says from the ground. There is a heavy silence from mission control, though Bill is nearly beyond noticing. "I need you to--Booker, can you hear me? Bill? I need you to respond," Vance says urgently. Bill's throat is constricting, and he's so dizzy that he can barely cling to consciousness. "Bill, do you read me? Can you respond?"

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