Page 18 of Starlight, Starbright
“Understood.”
I want to say more. Want to tell her the statistical probability of EVA accidents is low under optimal conditions, which these are not. Want to calculate and communicate every risk factor so she understands the danger. Want to order her to stay inside where I can maintain visual confirmation of her safety.
Instead, I say, “Be careful.”
“Always am.” Her voice carries that edge of humor she uses when stressed. “Well, mostly. Sometimes.”
Despite everything, I feel my mouth curve slightly. “That is not reassuring.”
“Good thing you trust me anyway.” She enters the airlock chamber. Turns back to face me through the inner door. “See you in eleven minutes.”
The airlock seals. I watch through the viewport as she moves through the outer door and into space beyond.
Then she's gone, and I'm walking back to the bridge trying to remember how to breathe properly.
“Captain on the bridge.” Tanaka's announcement feels unnecessary. Everyone can see me arrive. Can see me movedirectly to the communications station where I can monitor Chief Martin's suit telemetry and maintain audio contact.
“Chief Martin, status report.” I keep my voice level. Professional.
“I'm outside. Magnetic boots engaged. Moving to the primary array now.” Her breathing comes through the comm, slightly elevated but steady. “Visual confirmation of radiation damage to the coupling points. I'll need to cut through three fused connections.”
I pull up her suit camera feed on my screen. The view shows the ship's hull stretching out in harsh light and shadow. The damaged array rises like a skeletal structure against the star field beyond. Beautiful. Terrifying.
“Proceed. Mark your time.” I'm acutely aware that every person on the bridge can hear this exchange. “You have ten minutes remaining.”
“Plenty of time.” Tools clank in her hands. “Starting on connection point one.”
I watch the camera feed. Watch her hands move through practiced motions, cutting away fused metal, separating components that should never have been welded together by radiation. Each movement is efficient. Confident. Exactly what I've come to expect from her.
Eight minutes remaining.
“Connection point one complete. Moving to point two.”
“Confirmed.” I monitor her vital signs. Heart rate elevated but acceptable. Oxygen consumption normal. Suit integrity at 100%. “Radiation levels remain within safe parameters.”
“Good to know.” There's that humor again. “I'm not keen on glowing in the dark.”
Behind me, I hear Lieutenant Morris suppress what might be a laugh. Even in crisis, she finds ways to reduce tension. It's effective. Inefficient, perhaps, but effective.
Six minutes.
“Connection point two complete. Moving to three.”
I notice Tanaka glancing at me, then away. She's observing my physiological responses. The analysis is logical. The implications are concerning.
I don't care. I'll suppress the response later. Right now, maintaining her safety takes priority over maintaining appearance.
Four minutes.
“Almost done with point three. This one's stubborn. The fuse goes deeper than the others.”
“Can you complete it in time?” My voice remains steady despite the tension building in my chest.
“Yeah, just need to?—”
The surge hits without warning.
The camera feed whites out momentarily. Chief Martin's audio cuts to static. Suit telemetry spikes across every parameter.
