Page 19 of Starlight, Starbright
“Chief Martin!” I'm on my feet before conscious thought. “Status report. Paige, respond!”
Two seconds of static. Three. Four.
Gold light floods my markings. She's not responding.
“Paige! Status!”
Five seconds. Six.
“Holding on.” Her voice returns, strained but present. “Barely. The surge knocked out my magnetic boots. I'm on the tether.”
The camera feed stabilizes. Shows her floating away from the hull, connected only by the safety line. The damaged array looms above her, sparking with residual energy.
I should assess the situation logically. Calculate probabilities. Make the efficient choice.
All I can think is that she's out there, alone, holding onto a tether that might fail.
“Listen to my voice.” The words come from somewhere deep. Somewhere that doesn't calculate odds. “You're strong. You're brilliant. You're going to make it because I—” I stop. Breathe. “Because we need you. The ship needs you.”
The correction is too late. Too obvious. Everyone on the bridge heard what I almost said. What I stopped myself from saying.
“Don't you dare let go,” I say, and my voice breaks on the words.
“Wasn't planning on it.” She's gasping. Fighting. But there's humor underneath. “Though this sweet-talking is new. Keep going. I like it.”
Despite everything, I feel something in my chest loosen. “Paige.”
“I'm pulling myself back. Give me thirty seconds.” Tools clatter. Her breathing is harsh over the comm. “Twenty seconds. Ten. Got it. Magnetic boots re-engaged.”
The camera feed shows her hands securing to the hull. My oxygen intake resumes normal function. My heart rate begins decreasing from the dangerous elevation it reached.
My markings remain gold. Everyone can see.
“Status?” I manage.
“Fine. Mostly. A little shaky.” More tool sounds. “But I'm finishing this repair. Less than a minute left. I can make it.”
“Be certain.”
“I am.” Her voice steadies. “Connection point three complete. Testing the array. Signal's coming through. We have communications.”
Relief floods through me. “Confirmed. Return to airlock immediately.”
“Already moving.”
I watch the camera feed as she traverses the hull back toward the airlock. Each step feels like an eternity. Each second stretches until she's finally through the outer door, then the inner door, then removing her helmet in the airlock chamber.
She's safe. Inside the ship. Alive.
“Communications restored, Captain.” Morris reports what I already know. “External arrays are fully functional.”
“Noted.” I force my attention back to standard bridge operations. Pretend I don't feel every eye on me. Pretend the last eleven minutes didn't reveal things I've spent weeks trying to hide. “Resume normal operations.”
“Sir.” Tanaka's voice is carefully neutral. “Chief Martin is requesting to report to the bridge.”
“Granted.”
She arrives still in her EVA suit base layer, face flushed from exertion and residual adrenaline. She looks alive. Vibrant. Real. And the relief of seeing her here, solid and present, nearly breaks my control again.
