The High Five

Spacewalk

A message popped up on Milo's phlex.

Milo. It's me, Tayen. I've been trying to reach you. I think there's something wrong with the suit's comms. Do you copy?

"I copy. Can you hear me?"

I hear you fine, but my audio's dead. I'm using the helmet's voice-to-text function.

"Can you try a different helmet?"

There's no time. I had some issues suiting up, but I'm good now. I'm entering the airlock. Can you give me a play-by-play?

"A play-by-play for what?"

For what I'm supposed to do out there.

Milo was dumbfounded. "This was your plan, Tay. How can you not know what you're supposed to do?"

My notes didn't transfer over to the suit, and I completely blanked. Nerves, I guess.

"Are you sure you're up to this?" Milo asked reflexively.

I can do it, she pumped herself up. I just need you to walk me through it one step at a time. Hearing your voice helps. Here, I'm patching through the heads-up display. You see it?

Milo put the phlex into goggle mode and shifted the dictation to the bottom where it wouldn't obstruct the view. The sheer, pewter side of the ship drew a sharp edge against the blackness of space. "Okay, step by step then. Here we go. See that megaphone-looking thing way off to your right? That's where you're heading. Follow the guide pole to the end. Wait, what are you doing?"

You just told me to head over there.

"Did you clip your safety tether?"

Silly me. Stress-induced amnesia, I guess. Let's see, now where's that safety line—there it is! She clipped in and began pulling her way along the guide pole. When she got to the first post, she tugged on the clip, unsure how to get around it. Hmm, this is like one of those brain teasers...

"Did you forget all your training? Clip in with the second tether before unclipping the first," he coached.

The second line—of course!

Bobby's voice sounded abruptly in Milo's left ear. "For God's sake, can she hurry it up? We're twenty-seven minutes to burn-time. We need to get that vector repositioned by then."

"Come on, Tayen," Milo relayed. "You need to pick up the pace."

Easy for you to say. You're not trying to climb a hundred-foot pole in space-age samurai armor.

Milo grinned despite himself. For having misplaced her memory, Tayen was surprisingly quick on the uptake. Had she taken a little something to loosen up?

Hand-over-hand Tayen went. Reach a post. Reclip. Repeat. She was getting the knack of it. Houston, we have a problem, she quipped. My dance pole just ran out.

"You have to hull-crawl from here," Milo said. "Use the mag-grips on your knees and wrists."

She held up the underside of a wrist to examine the puck-sized object. Ah, so that's what these are for.

She was definitely high on something, Milo concluded. On second thought, maybe her oxygen mixture was too high. That could cause dizziness, disorientation, and even euphoria. Whatever it was, it seemed to have emptied out her head.

Ugh, how do you move with these mag-things? They stick like glue. Are you supposed to slide them?

God help us, Milo thought. "They work just like the mag-shoes. Plant with the back—that's the magnetized part. Then tilt it forward to pop it up. Always keep two mags in contact with the hull at all times. Like rock climbing."