«Send her out.»
She came out slowly, uncertain wavering feet sliding out first from the bulbous airlock. It reminded Kinsman of a film he had seen of a whale giving birth.
«Welcome to the real world,» he said when her head cleared the airlock hatch.
She turned to answer him and he heard her gasp and he knew that now he liked her.
«It’s … it’s …»
«Staggering,» Kinsman suggested. «And look at you—no hands.» She was floating freely, pressure-suit laden with camera gear, umbilical line flexing easily behind her. Kinsman couldn’t see her face through the tinted visor, but he could hear the awe in her voice, even in her breathing.
«I’ve never seen anything so absolutely overwhelming …» And then, suddenly, she was all business, reaching for a camera, snapping away at the Earth and stars and distant moon, rapidfire. She moved too fast and started to tumble. Kinsman jetted over and steadied her, holding her by the shoulders.
«Hey, take it easy. They’re not going away. You’ve got lots of time.»
«I want to get some shots of you, and the lab. Can you get over by the pod and go through some of the motions of your work on it?»
Kinsman posed for her, answered her questions, rescued a camera when she fumbled it out of her hands and couldn’t reach it as it drifted away from her.
«Judging distances gets a little whacky out here,» he said, handing the camera back to her.
Jill called them twice and ordered them back inside. «Chet, you’re already fifteen minutes over the limit!»
«There’s plenty slop in the schedule; we can stay out a while longer.»
«You’re going to get her exhausted.»
«I really feel fine,» Linda said, her voice lyrical.
«How much more film do you have?» Kinsman asked her. She peered at the camera. «Six more shots.»
«Okay, we’ll be in when the film runs out, Jill.»
«You’re going to be in darkness in another five minutes!»
Turning to Linda, who was floating upside-down with the cloud-laced Earth behind her, he said, «Save your film for the sunset, then shoot like hell when it comes.»
«The sunset? What’ll I focus on?»
«You’ll know when it happens. Just watch.»
It came fast, but Linda was equal to it. As the lab swung in its orbit toward the Earth’s night shadow, the sun dropped to the horizon and shot off a spectacular few moments of the purest reds and oranges and finally a heart-catching blue. Kinsman watched in silence, hearing Linda’s breath going faster and faster as she worked the camera.
Then they were in darkness. Kinsman flicked on his helmet lamp. Linda was just hanging there, camera still in hand.
«It’s … impossible to describe.» Her voice sounded empty, drained. «If I hadn’t seen it … if I didn’t get it on film, I don’t think I’d be able to convince myself that I wasn’t dreaming.»
Jill’s voice rasped in his earphones. «Chet, get inside! This is against every safety reg, being outside in the dark.»
He looked over toward the lab. Lights were visible along its length and the ports were lighted from within. Otherwise, he could barely make it out, even though it was only a few meters away.
«Okay, okay. Turn on the airlock-light so we can see the hatch.» Linda was still bubbling about the view outside, long after they had pulled off their pressure suits and eaten sandwiches and cookies.
«Have you ever been out there?» she asked Jill.
Perched on the biology bench’s edge, near the mice colony, Jill nodded curtly. «Twice.»
«Isn’t it spectacular? I hope the pictures come out; some of the settings on the camera …»
«They’ll be all right,» Jill said. «And if they’re not, we’ve got a backlog of photos you can use.»
«Oh, but they wouldn’t have the shots of Chet working on the power pod.»
Jill shrugged. «Aren’t you going to take more photos in here? If you want to get some pictures of real space veterans, you ought to snap the mice here. They’ve been up for months now, living fine and raising families. And they don’t make such a fuss about it, either.»
«Well, some of us do exciting things,» Kinsman said, «and some of us tend mice.»
Jill glowered at him.
Glancing at his wristwatch, Kinsman said, «Ladies, it’s my sack time. I’ve had a trying day: mechanic, tourist guide, and cover boy for Photo Day. Work, work, work.»
He glided past Linda with a smile, kept it for Jill as he went by her. She was still glaring.
When he woke up again and went back into the main cabin, Jill was talking pleasantly with Linda as the two of them stood over the microscope and specimen rack of the biology bench.
Linda saw him first. «Oh, hi. Jill’s been showing me the spores she’s studying. And I photographed the mice. Maybe they’ll go on the cover instead of you.»
Kinsman grinned. «She’s been poisoning your mind against me.» But to himself he wondered, What the hell has Jill been telling her about me?
Jill drifted over to the control desk, picked up the clipboard with the mission log on it and tossed it lightly toward Kinsman.
«Ground control says the power pod checks out all green,» she said. «You did a good job.»
«Thanks.» He caught the clipboard. «Whose turn in the sack is it?»
«Mine,» Jill answered.
«Okay. Anything special cooking?»
«No. Everything’s on schedule. Next data transmission comes up in twelve minutes. Kodiak station.»
Kinsman nodded. «Sleep tight.»
Once Jill had shut the curtain to the bunkroom, Kinsman carried the mission log to the control desk and sat down. Linda stayed at the biology bench, about three paces away.
He checked the instrument board with a quick glance, then turned to Linda. «Well, now do you know what I meant about this being a way of life?»
«I think so. It’s so different.»
«It’s the real thing. Complete freedom. Brave new world. After ten minutes of EVA, everything else is just toothpaste.»
«It was certainly exciting.»
«More than that. It’s living. Being on the ground is a drag, even flying a plane is dull now. This is where the fun is … out here in orbit and on the moon. It’s as close to heaven as anybody’s gotten.»
«You’re really serious?»
«Damned right. I’ve even been thinking of asking Murdock for a transfer to NASA duty. Air Force missions don’t include the moon, and I’d like to walk around on the new world, see the sights.»
She smiled at him. «I’m afraid I’m not that enthusiastic.»
«Well, think about it for a minute. Up here, you’re free. Really free, for the first time in your life. All the laws and rules and prejudices they’ve been dumping on you all your life, they’re all down there. Up here it’s a new start. You can be yourself and do your own thing … and nobody can tell you different.»
«As long as somebody provides you with air and food and water and …»
«That’s the physical end of it, sure. We’re living in a microcosm, courtesy of the aerospace industry and AFSC. But there’re no strings on us. The brass can’t make us follow their rules. We’re writing the rule books ourselves. For the first time since 1776, we’re writing new rules.»
Linda looked thoughtful now. Kinsman couldn’t tell if she was genuinely impressed by his line, or if she knew what he was trying to lead up to. He turned back to the control desk and studied the mission flight plan again.
He had carefully considered all the possible opportunities, and narrowed them down to two. Both of them tomorrow, over the Indian Ocean. Forty to fifty minutes between ground stations, and Jill’s asleep both times.
«AF-9, this is Kodiak.»
He reached for the radio switch. «AF-9 here, Kodiak. Go ahead.»
«We are receiving your automatic data transmission loud and clear.»