Part 60 (1/2)

”I don't know. There're only two kinds of people up here: you either love it or you're scared sh...witless. And you can't fake it. If she goes ape outside...”

”She won't,” Jill said firmly. ”And anyway, you'll be there to help her. I've told her that she won't be going outside until you're finished with the mating job. She wanted to get pictures of you actually at work, but she'll settle for a few posed shots.”

Kinsman nodded. But the worry persisted. I wonder if Calder's Army nurse was scared of flying? I wonder if Calder's Army nurse was scared of flying?

He was pulling on his boots, wedging his free foot against an equipment rack to keep from floating off, when Linda returned from her sleep.

”Ready for a walk around the block?” he asked her.

She smiled and nodded without the slightest hesitation. ”I'm looking forward to it. Can I get a few shots of you while you zipper up your suit?”

Maybe she'll be okay.

At last he was sealed into the pressure suit. Linda and Jill stood back as Kinsman shuffled to the airlock hatch. It was set into the floor at the end of the cabin where the s.p.a.cecraft was docked. With Jill helping him, he eased down into the airlock and shut the hatch. The airlock chamber itself was coffin-sized. Kinsman had to half-bend to move around in it. He checked out his suit, then pumped the air out of the chamber. Then he was ready to open the outer hatch.

It was beneath his feet, but as it slid open to reveal the stars, Kinsman's weightless orientation flip-flopped, like an optical illusion, and he suddenly felt that he was standing on his head and looking up.

”Going out now,” he said into the helmet mike.

”Okay,” Jill's voice responded.

Carefully he eased himself through the open hatch, holding onto its edge with one gloved hand once he was fully outside, the way a swimmer holds the rail for a moment when he first slides into the deep water. Outside. Swinging his body around slowly, he took in the immense beauty of Earth, dazzlingly bright even through his tinted visor. Beyond its curving limb was the darkness of infinity, with the beckoning stars watching him in unblinking solemnity.

Alone now. His own tight, self-contained universe, independent of everything and everybody. He could cut the life-giving umbilical line that linked him with the laboratory and float off by himself forever. And be dead in two minutes. Ay, there's the rub Ay, there's the rub.

Instead, he unhooked the tiny gas gun from his waist and, trailing the umbilical, squirted himself over toward the power pod. It was riding smoothly behind the lab, a squat truncated cone, shorter but fatter than the lab itself, one edge brilliantly lit by the sun, the rest of it bathed in the softer light reflected from the dayside of Earth below.

Kinsman's job was to inspect the power pod, check its equipment, and then mate it to the electrical system of the laboratory. There was no need to physically connect the two bodies, except to link a pair of power lines between them. Everything necessary for the task-tools, power lines, checkout instruments-had been built into the pod, waiting for a man to use them.

It would have been simple work on Earth. In zero gee, it was complicated. The slightest motion of any part of your body started you drifting. You had to fight against all the built-in mannerisms of a lifetime; had to work constantly to keep in place. It was easy to get exhausted in zero gee.

Kinsman accepted all this with hardly a conscious thought. He worked slowly, methodically, using as little motion as possible, letting himself drift slightly until a more-or-less natural body motion counteracted and pulled him back in the opposite direction. Ride the-waves, slow and easy Ride the-waves, slow and easy. There was a rhythm to his work, the natural dreamlike rhythm of weightlessness.

His earphones were silent, he said nothing. All he heard was the purring of the suit's air blowers and his own steady breathing. All he saw was his work.

Finally he jetted back to the laboratory, towing the pair of thick cables. He found the connectors waiting for them on the sidewall of the lab and inserted the cable plugs. I p.r.o.nounce you lab and power source I p.r.o.nounce you lab and power source. He inspected the checkout lights alongside the connectors. All green. May you produce many kilowatts May you produce many kilowatts.

Swinging from handhold to handhold along the length of the lab, he made his way back toward the airlock.

”Okay, it's finished. How's Linda doing?”

Jill answered, ”She's all set.”

”Send her out.”

She came out slowly, uncertain wavering feet sliding out first from the bulbous airlock. It reminded Kinsman of a film he had seen of a whale giving birth.

”Welcome to the real world,” he said when her head cleared the airlock hatch.

She turned to answer him and he heard her gasp and he knew that now he liked her.

”It's...it's...”

”Staggering,” Kinsman suggested. ”And look at you-no hands.”

She was floating freely, pressure suit laden with camera gear, umbilical flexing easily behind her. Kinsman couldn't see her face through the tinted visor, but he could hear the awe in her voice, even in her breathing.

”I've never seen anything so absolutely overwhelming...”

And then suddenly she was all business, reaching for a camera, snapping away at the Earth and stars and distant Moon, rapid fire. She moved too fast and started to tumble. Kinsman jetted over and steadied her, holding her by the shoulders.

”Hey, take it easy. They're not going away. You've got lots of time.”

”I want to get some shots of you, and the lab. Can you get over by the pod and go through some of the motions of your work on it?”

Kinsman posed for her, answered her questions, rescued a camera when she fumbled it out of her hands and couldn't reach it as it drifted away from her.

”Judging distances gets a little whacky out here,” he said, handing the camera back to her.

Jill called them twice and ordered them back inside. ”Chet, you're already fifteen minutes over the limit!”

”There's plenty slop in the schedule; we can stay out awhile longer.”

”You're going to get her exhausted.”

”I really feel fine,” Linda said, her voice lyrical.

”How much more film do you have?” Kinsman asked her.

She peered at the camera. ”Six more shots.”

”Okay; we'll be in when the film runs out, Jill.”

”You're going to be in darkness in another five minutes!”

Turning to Linda, who was floating upside-down with the cloud-laced Earth behind her, he said, ”Save your film for the sunset, then shoot like h.e.l.l when it comes.”

”The sunset? What'll I focus on?”

”You'll know when it happens. Just watch.”

It came fast, but Linda was equal to it. As the lab swung in its...o...b..t toward the Earth's night shadow, the sun dropped to the horizon and shot off a spectacular few moments of the purest reds and oranges and finally a heart-catching blue. Kinsman watched in silence, hearing Linda's breath going faster and faster as she worked the camera.

Then they were in darkness. Kinsman flicked on his helmet lamp. Linda was just hanging there, camera still in hand.

”It's...impossible to describe.” Her voice sounded empty, drained. ”If I hadn't seen it...if I didn't get it on film, I don't think I'd be able to convince myself that I wasn't dreaming.”

Jill's voice rasped in his earphones: ”Chet, get inside! This is against every safety reg, being outside in the dark.”

He looked over toward the lab. Lights were visible along its length and the ports were lighted from within. Otherwise he could barely make it out, even though it was only a few meters away.