Station Breaker

69 Pressure

Distance is a different concept in space. From here to the docking module it's just a hundred meters, but I can't exactly stroll there or use my suit jets to go whizzing by. I have to do it like my monkey ancestors did it climbing through trees — hand over hand.

There's plenty of railing to pull myself along. The trick is grabbing it. Gloves on a spacesuit aren't like the type for doing the dishes and a spacesuit isn't just a bag to hold air. They're essentially a mini-pressurized spaceship that keeps you from blowing up like a balloon.

The old ones were basically a bladder that squeezed you like an arm pressure cuff — but all over your body. The modern ones are made from skintight material that's essentially a full-body corset. The exception is the hands and the head.

My helmet is a pressurized fish bowl and my gloves are still the old-style bladder that squeezes the hands and has a habit of causing your fingernails to fall off.

This is fine for light work and maneuvering, but for more physically challenging jobs like building the US/iCosmos, spaceworkers use mechanical extensions where their hands sit inside cozy little pockets controlling mechanical fingers. This works well enough, but the long arms make you look like a chimpanzee — which is why we call them "chimp gloves."

I'd kill for a pair right now. Pulling myself along on the rails is fine for a few meters, but I can really feel it in my hands.

I'm tempted to just yank really hard and let myself soar over the module, but there's the very real chance I might sail past the last hand grip and keep going into space.

On the US/iC they have robot lifeguards that will retrieve you if that happens. There's nothing like that on the K1.

I move down the EVA spire and start crawling out along the storage module, hoping there's nobody inside who can hear me.

I could take a shortcut and move through the gap between the solar panels and the station, but I'm terrified of clipping a panel or getting caught as they make their orbital adjustment.

Even up here in free fall, there are tiny bits of atmosphere that drag on the massive surfaces. Every 45 minutes the panels change their pitch slightly as the K1 goes into and comes out of the part of its elliptical orbit that brings it closer to the earth. I'd prefer not to get stuck like a fly on a window wiper blade.

"How you doing, Dave?" Laney asks over the comm.

"Awesome. All that time I spent on the monkey bars at recess is really paying off. If Amy Schweiger could see me now."

"Was she your first crush?"

"No. My first bully. She tried to pull anyone off the bars when they crossed them. Never got me, best she ever managed was pantsing me."

"So you were that clueless about women even back then?"

"I reckon."

"How do your fingers feel?"

"I think the nails are still attached, if that's what you mean."

"I heard some astronauts used to have them removed for long space walks."

"About the most I'll consider doing is shaving my… So, how is Earth?"

"Fine, I guess. Can't wait to get off it. Markov still hasn't heard anything. There's lots of chatter on the Russian side. The US is getting a little antsy."

"What happens when intelligence agencies start intercepting the words 'nuclear' and 'space'?"

"Do you have all your porn backed up to an EMP-proof medium?"

"I think the magazines under my mattress are safe."

"What's a magazine?"

"Hilarious."

I swing over the outer pylon so I'm "under" the station and start pulling myself back towards the center. I spot the two Russian ships berthed on the docking module below me.

I try to take my mind off the fact that I'm 200 miles over the planet. "So, you made any progress on the Russian manuals?"

"Yep. You know Russian, right?"

"Mostly just a working knowledge of what switches do what. But I wouldn't trust myself to take something apart without instructions."

"The Russian Army used to have their equipment designed so an illiterate kid from the middle of the Ukraine could repair them."

"Guess what? A functionally illiterate kid from California is going to have a try at that."

"I've marked down what tools you brought that you'll need to get inside."

"Excellent. Because I am now descending the lower pylon towards the docking module and I can already see Ivanka."

"Ivanka?"

"My sweet, sweet Russian ride. I realize that I've stolen… hold on… I forgot about the ambulance… eight vehicles so far. Nine if you count the rental car I'm probably not going to return. Ivanka will be ten. Although technically I'm not stealing her."

"Just violating her."

"She's asking for it — all shiny and metal like that."

"Well, you're going to need some help so you don't blow it. Literally. There's a safe way to get that hatch open without setting off the charges or causing it to explode from the internal air pressure. And then there's the bad way."

"I vote the safe way. I'm working my way down now."

My handrails have sadly come to an end. In order to work on the hatch I have to position myself in such a way that I don't drift away.

Laney is way ahead of me as she explains where to find the hooks to clip my belt tether. "There are four on the nose section and another above and below the hatch."

"You're a lifesaver."

Zero-g mountain climber-style, I attach myself to one and push myself to the other and stick a finger through the opening and refasten the tether.

"Boom. I'm over the hatch."

"Great. Now stop saying "boom" and look for a small circle with the words 'Vozdushnyy klapan vykhlopnykh.' You read Cyrillic, right?"

"Like a glove."

"You're not inspiring confidence down here."

"Not so much up here either. Found it. Now what?"

"Take your hex tool and insert it into the slot and turn to the right."

"Okay. Ready to proceed."

I give it a twist and my hand gets pushed back from the pressure of the escaping air. If I hadn't been expecting it, I might have let go of the tool, which would have been bad.

"Give it about two minutes, then see if you can feel any air coming out."

I count backwards to zero and check with the palm of my glove. "Nothing."

"Great. Captain Baylor just gave me a thumbs up. Which I think means we didn't set off any alarms. You ready to dismantle the hatch so you can put it back together again?"

"You got it."

I spend the next twenty minutes taking apart the release mechanism so I can open the door from the outside. It'd be a two-minute job on Earth, but I don't have a convenient place to set my tools down or any of the small parts I remove. If I lose something up here, it becomes a satellite.

At last I'm able to unlock the door and swing it open. I then tediously replace all the parts so I can seal it. If I don't do that, I'll depressurize the K1… again.

"Hatch shut. I'm inside."

"Okay. You know how to work the manual airlock from here and equalize pressure?"

"Yes, ma'am. Starting now."

The PFFFFFTTTTT sound of air entering Ivanka is inaudible at first but soon grows louder before equalizing.

"Capsule air pressure equalized with the K1. Ready to equalize suit pressure."

I feel a cold rush of air as my suit fills with the atmosphere of the K1. My nostrils are immediately greeted by the scent of melting plastic.

I think that's normal. But I can't really remember.

"Okay Dark Ops, ready to cross the threshold and commit an act of piracy."

"Proceed, David… carefully."