We had practiced the steps of the repair two times inside, but in our bulky suits each action took three times as long and the job was less a series of steps than a kind of halting slow-motion dance. We usually worked well together. But today was different. Amelia handed me tools before I was ready; our helmets knocked against each other as we reached into the compartment at the same time.
I’m in position, Rachel said. Are you ready?
Not even close, Amelia said. Our shoulders bumped and her wrench slipped from her hand and wobbled away—and then snapped back on its tether. Would you move? she said to me.
I’m doing exactly what we did inside, I said.
No, you’re not. You’re off.
So are you.
Whose fault is that?
How is it my fault—
Amelia switched her radio to the two-way channel so only I could hear.
I don’t want to think about them, she said. If I’m thinking about them, I can’t do my job.
The Inquiry crew.
Yes.
The Earth slid past us; a storm swirled off the coast of Africa.
If they’re alive don’t you want to know? I asked.
Your bed was next to Carla’s your first year at Peter Reed, she said.
Yes.
Anu’s was next to mine.
The array behind her helmet sparked and flared.
She was so smart, Amelia said. And strong. She built the communications system on Inquiry. If she were alive we’d know it.
She switched back to the three-way channel. We worked silently: detached the new rotor from the robotic arm, slid it into place, and slowly tightened it. The angle was awkward and Amelia’s wrench could move only a quarter rotation at a time. I took a turn; we went back and forth until it was finally secure.
We’re nearing the two-hour mark, Rachel said.
I want to look at the other gyroscopes, Amelia said. If their rotors are degrading like R3’s did—
Save it for the next spacewalk.
If we need to ask for another rotor in the next packet I want to know now.
Fine. But do it fast.
We entered the Earth’s shadow and turned on our headlamps. The irregular shapes of the station shined darkly in the cool light of the moon, its arrays glinting silver in the deep black. From where we were I could see the length of its starboard and the panel that contained the urine processor vent.
June. Rachel’s voice came through my radio. There’s a loose panel near the hatch. If you’re staying out there I want you to take a look.
Amelia motioned. Go ahead. I can do this myself.
The urine processor vent was only a yard farther starboard than the loose panel, and I thought, I can do both. It would be the work of only a few minutes. I pulled myself from handrail to handrail, navigating around equipment, fighting the drift of my legs and feet. I began to sweat. I halved the distance to the panel and then my tether pulled taut. It wasn’t going to reach. I turned, crawled back, and hastily moved my tether clip.
The vent was inconspicuous among all the other jutting and shining equipment on the starboard side of the station. But I knew exactly what to look for.
You’ve gone too far, Rachel said. Turn around.
I didn’t answer. I reached the vent, took out the antenna, and quickly began to screw it into an unused port next to the vent. I was sweating hard; my hands were slippery inside my gloves and my visor fogged.
Rachel’s voice came through my helmet again. The loose panel’s behind you—
I looked back the way I came. Amelia was still inside the gyroscope compartment.
I had six screws left.
Tell me what you’re doing, Rachel said.
I’m attaching an antenna.
Amelia’s voice: What antenna?
I turned and we looked at each other across the station’s shining starboard. The sun reappeared and its reflection moved across Amelia’s helmet, made it opaque. I couldn’t see her face but I could hear her breathing.
They’re dead, she said.
I tightened my grip on the handrail and turned back to the antenna. They’re not.
Rachel’s voice was stern inside my helmet. I don’t know what this is about but I want you both to move back to the hatch.
I felt movement behind me. Amelia was pulling herself toward me.
I had one screw left. It was done.
I faced her. They’re out there, I said. They’re alive, and I’m going to prove it.
My tether cord was looped around my left arm and I let go of the handrail to shrug it off. My legs floated out from under me, but my tether caught me. I felt its clip catch. I began to reel myself in.
But Amelia was looking at something. She was moving fast— My tether went slack and I had a sickening feeling of being let go. I looked—my clip floated free. Amelia had seen it before I had, and she scrambled for it. I drifted despite my hands grabbing. My breath was a roar inside my helmet. I was one foot away from the station, three. Four.
The station got smaller. The stars brighter. I saw white feet in front of my eyes. My white feet.
Amelia! Rachel’s voice came through the radio. And Simon’s too. Port side! There, there!
The station slid from my sight as I rotated backward in the air, boots over head, slowly at first, and then faster. My organs swayed; vomit stole up my throat. I waved my arms as the Earth flashed blue and green and white, and the station black and gray.
Then—a strong tug at my back. Amelia had grabbed the loose tether, was pulling me back in. I heard the rush of her breathing, and my breathing. We bounced and our helmets cracked together. I held on and she held on. We spun into open air and the station was upside down, sideways. Amelia’s tether snapped us back. We slid down the starboard and I scrambled for a handrail, an antenna, anything to slow us down. Amelia reached for the loose panel just as both our bodies slammed into it hard.
The panel pinned her hand and she cursed, pulled it free. Our trajectory slowed. Our eyes met through our visors and hers were twisted in pain. She gripped the tethers with one hand, her left. She dragged us to the hatch door, and through it. It shut behind us with a hiss and a thunk, and we collapsed against the wall. She held her right hand to her chest. Her glove was the wrong shape.
How bad is it? I reached for her glove. How bad—
She pulled away. Wait. Her face was gray. Wait for the lock—
Pressurized air rushed around us as we waited for the green light to flash.
III
31
Earth’s gravity pressed at my hips as I swung my legs from the Candidate dormitory cot to the floor. Two points of cottony pain throbbed in my ears but every other sensation was muffled. I’d been back on Earth for five days but my vision was still fuzzy, my fingertips dull. My tongue lay flat inside my mouth, dry and inert.
I set my feet flat on the floor. They were swollen three times their normal size with edema and seemed to squish. I stood, swayed slightly, and saw sparks at the corners of my eyes—but I was used to that. It happened every time I stood up and I was beginning to wonder if it would ever go away. I took a tentative step and squirmed at the sensation of my fluid-filled toes against the hard ground. My oversize compression slippers were tucked under the bed and I inched my feet inside.
I had been staying in the Candidate dormitory since I got back, making slow circuits between my room, the cafeteria, and the rehab gym. I heard about Amelia only from Rachel or Simon. I hadn’t seen her since she’d been evacuated from the Sundew almost three weeks ago. I knew she had lost her hand, and I knew she wouldn’t want to see me. So I didn’t go visit her, even though Rachel kept asking me to.