Page 94 of Space Cowgirl: Houston, All Systems Go
“Who does Number Two work for?” I tease in my best Austin Powers voice.
Laughter from the test director room.
Even over the comms I can hear Bodie’s long-suffering sigh. “Remind me how I didn’t strangle you last mission?”
“Please, you’d be so bored without me, Bode-man.”
His scoff is loud and clear over the comms. “If you say so, Starr.”
“All right, you two,” Micha breaks in, amused, “here we go.”
The hydraulic lifts kick in, and the vibrations shake my bones as the crane lifts, then swings us out over the pool.
“Descent start.”
It doesn’t take long. Soon the water line rises over my visor, and I’m fully submerged.
Time to go to work.
* * *
Two hourslater and I’m in the zone.
“Heading starboard.”
“EV1, starboard movement.”
Pulling on my tether, currently attached to the truss mock-up of the ISS, I move forward, letting my forced weightlessness do a lot of the work. If there is one thing they drive into our heads, it’s do not fight the suit. You have to make do with the environment you’re in and take advantage of the forward propulsion weightlessness affords you; otherwise, you won’t last an hour in the suit—you’ll be too worn out from trying to hulk you and your three-hundred-pound suit around.
“EV2 in position.” Bodie hooks himself to the truss with a tether extending from his mini-work station, the metal harness attached to the front of our suits with slots, branches and clip-holes for all our tools.
Getting in place, I attach my own tether. My chest pinches. I take a deep breath, but it somehow feels inadequate.
“EV1, can—”
“Say again?”
Silence. Not the “waiting for the right command” silence, but an eerie silence that lets me know my comm is out.
It’s cool. It happens. Happens in space too sometimes. But the pinch in my chest is getting deeper. Another breath that doesn’t quite fill my lungs.
Pulling on the tether, I rotate to face Bodie. He must’ve gotten a message from control, because he’s also angling toward me, as are the divers.
Breath. Pinch. Breath. Pinch. Tiny black dots blink across my vision.
Fuck.
I raise my arm and make a fist with my hand, signaling distress. In an instant, my dive team descends, one cutting my tether, another releasing the weighted plate from my feet, while a third grabs my umbilical and pulls. All the movements ripple the water, bubbles rushing by my visor.
In a matter of seconds, the pull in my back tells me the crane is lifting me out, but it feels like forever. The pinch in my chest and the black in my vision expands until… nothing.
Twenty-Four
Kick the Tires and Light the FIres
HOLT
“Hot, hot!”I shake my hand out, cooling off my fingers. My kitchen may have all the cookie sheets I need, but I can’t for the life of me find a spatula.
