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Unfortunately, petty political B.S. was able to fight back. The crew was made to manually dock resupply ships, because the country making their automatic docking system was no longer a part of Russia. The first two attempts almost ended in disaster, so ruble-pinching idiots on the ground decided that the third time's a charm. For the disaster. And just to make sure, they told the station to turn off the radar system and guide the speeding supply capsule with handheld rangefinders by looking out the window.

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"Hmm, the milkman's been, and two tons of orbital metal are speeding straight at my face."

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To this day, snooker players call what happened the most predictable collision in history. Then shout "HOLY S#!T," because it was a spaceship ramming a space station. Vasily Tsibliev, Aleksandr Lazutkin, and Mike Foale felt their ears pop, and in space that's scarier than hearing a piranha between your legs, because at least then you'd still have enough air to scream.

Racing against the winds of a vacuum death to seal the damaged capsule meant ripping up rivers of wiring holding the station together, some of which were burning with electrical fire. They got the hatch sealed just in time to find that the station was out of alignment, the solar arrays were down, and the emergency batteries had been running the entire station while they'd been busy trying to keep the air in. Meaning the emergency batteries were nearly empty. Then they were totally empty.