Orbital

Thirty-Seven Footfall

I start to walk over the module then stop as something tugs at my waist. For a moment I think Turco is playing a trick on me — literally yanking my chain.

When I see her shadow drift across the next module, I look up as she drifts high overhead, using the handheld rocket gun to guide her.

“Hey, Supergirl, mind checking my tether? I think I’m caught on something.”

“Roger that.” She swings her arm the other way and gives the trigger a squeeze. A blast of compressed air shoots out from the two nozzles and sends her back towards the airlock.

The outer surface of the module is a little more barren here than the section I started on. There’s some pipes and electrical conduit, but nothing that screams “Secret Chinese Spy Gear.”

The tension is released from my tether and I can walk freely again.

I step into the shadow of the next module and have to wait a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. While there’s plenty of ambient light when the station is on the dayside of the Earth, the contrast between direct light and shadow is pretty severe without the use of artificial vision.

Near my feet there’s a small box the size of a deck of cards. The heads-up display lists it as “Temperature sensor 22D.”

While nothing stands out about it by itself, there’s another box about ten feet away the display says is Temperature sensor 23D. Which is all fine, both should be there, but the casings look different to me. Both should be painted the same slightly metallic white that’s used to reflect as much heat as possible. However box 23 is slightly discolored. It doesn’t quite match.

I move over to the faded box for a closer inspection. There’s definitely something funky about it. Not only is it a different color, it’s about a inch longer than the other. A detail you’d never notice unless you were looking for it.

I reach down to grab the box, hoping that it’s just magnetically attached, but the box refuses to budge.

Okay, maybe it’s not supposed to come off…

Then again, maybe whoever put it here used some kind of space glue.

I kneel down, grasp the box with both hands and push with my legs.

There’s a jet of vapor and for a moment I’m afraid I just ripped a hole in another space station.

Then I realize that it’s not the station that’s venting air.

It’s my suit.

Specifically my prototype shoes. I just broke a seal inside of them.

Although my thermal garment has socks, I can feel my right foot getting very cold, very quickly and my toes starting to swell.

“Turco!” I call for her help.

“On my way!”

I stand up, hoping that straightening my ankle will stop the leak. Except I do it too quickly and suddenly find myself drifting away from the station.

As I drift upwards, I spot Samantha holding on to a rail, just watching me.

What is she doing?

“Turco?”

“Hold on,” she replies.

“I can feel my foot getting numb. I don’t know how long my ankle seal will hold.”

She’s still sitting there doing nothing. I grab my tether and start pulling myself back in.

“Don’t do that,” she says.

“Well…since you’re not doing anything,” I reply testily.

“I am.”

“Watching me vent out?”

“I’m waiting for you to reach the end of the tether…there.”

She aims her rocket gun at me and pulls the trigger. Her body lurches forward as she starts to fly in my direction. Midway to me, she takes her sealing tape from her belt and pulls out a foot-long strip.

We both reach the end of our tethers at the same time and start to snap back together. She reaches out with the tape and quickly wraps it around my leak then uses the rest of the roll to cover the seal.

I watch as she runs her gloved fingers over the patch, making sure nothing is leaking.

She gives my toes a good squeeze. “Can you feel that?”

“Nope.” I move my left foot next to my right. “Try that one.”

She grips the tip of my shoe. “Anything?”

I think I can faintly feel the pressure. “Maybe…”

“Let’s get you back into the airlock and have Dr. Warren take a look at your foot. Hopefully he won’t have to amputate.”

I know she’s joking, the exposure was minimal, but I’ve suddenly become a bit of a hypochondriac.

I give the tether a pull and start drifting back towards the airlock. Her quick fix will probably last longer than the rest of the shoes, but I don’t want to push things any further than I have with the prototypes.

When I reach the airlock Turco isn’t behind me. In fact, I can’t even see her.

“Turco?”

“Just a second. Making sure your shoes didn’t damage the station.”

“Yes, well, I’d like to keep my toenails. If that’s okay with you.”

She floats into view from below the airlock. “You’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say,” I reply, doing my best to maintain the friendly banter, while secretly wondering what the hell she was really up to.

In my near panic over my shoe breaking, I lost track of box 23. I don’t know if it came loose and drifted off into space or is still there, hanging half-off.

Turco pulls herself inside the lock and presses the button sealing the door then turns to me. “Good thing you brought an escort.”

I return the smile. While the broken shoe wasn’t planned, waiting to see what she did was. I could have pulled myself back into the airlock by my own tether anytime I wanted.

“Sorry for leaving you hanging,” she says. “I once saw someone crack their helmet on another astronaut when they accelerated too quickly and didn’t anticipate the tether stopping the other person’s momentum.”

“It seemed the smart thing to do.”

Actually, it was the coldly rational thing to do. Which is either a sign of her professionalism or complete lack of empathy.