0730.
There are airlocks on the MF, one in the outer rim beyond each of the even-numbered spokes, but Gwendy and Kathy will egress from Eagle Heavy, where the air tastes stale and the three crew station levels feel abandoned. Before suiting up, Gwendy pops the chocolate she saved into her mouth.
“Don’t suppose you have another one of those, do you?” Kathy asks.
Gwendy considers, shrugs, and then loosens the drawstring top of the aluminum-quilted bag on the bench beside her. She brings out the button box. It feels dull now, powerless, as if resigned to its fate, but Gwendy doesn’t trust that. She pulls the lever that delivers the chocolates. The cunning little platform slides out, but there’s nothing on it.
“Sorry, Kath. The button box giveth and sometimes it don’t giveth.”
“Roger that. Would have liked to try one, though. Are you good, Gwendy?”
Gwendy nods. She’s very good. With the chocolate onboard, she’s clear as a bell. The woman who had to print RIGHT and LEFT on her gloves is gone, but she’ll be back.
Or maybe not.
“What’s funny?” Kathy asks. “You’re smiling.”
“Nothing.” But because something more seems required, she adds, “Just excited about my first spacewalk.”
Kathy makes no reply, but Gwendy can read her thought: First and last.
“Are you sure the computers in Mission Control won’t register us opening the airlock down here?”
“Positive. These computers are all off until the return. To conserve power.”
They float their way into the airlock, helmets under their arms, and sit on the two benches. The space is tight—all spaces are tight on Heavy—and their knees touch. Gwendy starts to put her helmet on, but Kathy shakes her head. “Not yet. Sixty inhales and exhales first. Prebreathing, remember?”
Gwendy nods. “To purge the nitrogen.”
“Right. Gwendy … are you sure?”
“Yes.” She answers with no hesitation. Everything is in place, the story they will tell later set and agreed to by all hands. Gwendy and Winston weren’t at breakfast, but no one thought that was unusual because they are passengers, supercargo, and have the luxury of sleeping in. No one will start to worry until at least 1000 hours, and by then Kathy will be back onboard the MF. There will be a search. It will be at least 1400 before Sam Drinkwater calls the down-below to tell them the VIPs are missing and may have drifted away while attempting a spacewalk. Terrible accident, God knows why they would have done something so foolish, blah-blah-blah.
Gwendy gets a little woozy from the fast respiration. Kathy tells her that’s normal and will pass by the time they egress Eagle Heavy. After two minutes of breathing, Kathy tells Gwendy it’s time to put on her bucket. “And remember, helmet-to-helmet comm only. No one hears but just us girls. Let me hear your roger.”
“Roger that,” Gwendy says, and dons her bucket. Kathy moves to help her secure it, but Gwendy waves her off, does it herself, and looks for the green light on the little control panel at mouth level. When she sees it, she dons her gloves, secures them, and waits for a second green light. She makes a thumb-and-finger circle to Kathy, who returns the gesture.
Kathy closes the door to Eagle Heavy and the two of them sit waiting for the airlock to depressurize.
“Reading me, Gwendy?”
“Loud and clear.”
“Set your suit temp to maximum hot, then adjust it down.”
“How long will the heat last?”
“In theory as long as your breathable air, just shy of six hours. The heat may actually last longer, but …” Her shrug says the rest: But you won’t feel it.
There’s a belt around Gwendy’s waist with two ordinary high-altitude carabiners attached. She knots the drawstring bag with the button box around one of them. Kathy attaches the buddy cable to the other. They are now tethered together like scuba divers: the instructor and the pupil.
“Ready to EVA?” Kathy asks.
Gwendy makes another thumb-and-forefinger circle. She thinks, Oh yes, very ready. Been waiting for this ever since I first looked through my telescope, over fifty years ago. I just didn’t know it.
“Don’t wait too long to lower your outer visor. Night pass ends in just about seven minutes.”
“Roger.”
Kathy turns the red lever in the center of the airlock’s outer door, then pulls it.
0748.
The airlock opens on the stars.