Work Text:
Doing EVAs is thirsty work. Who knew that, even in zero gravity, moving around so much is pretty demanding? Of course, I've gotten way better at it. Even Rocky agrees, though mainly when we put it in contrast with my piloting. Naturally, if I put my work up against his engineering skills, I still come short and he, just as much as I, wishes I had a few more hands, I guess.
Rocky stayed inside and read the screens to me. I think he'd also rather switch, since I can hear him hum a bored noise in my headset. I smile to myself.
"Got something for me?" "You take long long time to do task," he complains readily.
"We can't all have five hands, pal." "Eridians do."
Fondly, I just roll my eyes. "I'm not Eridian." Again, another bored noise. "You gotta come up with something else."
"Make robot arm. Same as on me ship." Sure... "That's Eridian technology. It might not be compatible with my ship."
"You have robot arm that works in you ship. Use same technology."
I laugh. Well, that would be the dream, wouldn't it? The nanny-bot is pretty useful. Despite our rough start I've come to appreciate it. However, I shake my head. "It's only made for fixing humans, not spaceships."
"Hmm," Rocky says, pausing, "Make few changes."
Okay, I can't help my exasperation there. He always acts like fixing stuff is so simple. "How!? It needs to be reprogrammed and I can't do all that."
"This sound like excuse."
"Aww, come on...I told you, computers are hard."
So, I guess it's back to me doing the EVAs for the time being, but that's okay. Some days, I suppose, I don't even mind. Like today was just cleaning up some sensors toward the back of the ship. It's incredible how much...gets on them when you think there's nothing out in space that would. Well, I suppose it's more the radiation that messed with the sensitive parts or whatever. Anyway, it was no big deal, no big tools or replacement parts that I had to carry with me. It was easy-peasy stuff.
When I say an EVA is thirsty work, though, I still mean it. I was out there for a long time and sweat a lot. I can't wait to get back inside, slip out of the Orlan suit and into some clean-ish clothes. Clean-ish since freezing the bacteria that feed on my sweat to death is still all I have. I do miss that fresh-from-the-clothesline feeling. But I'd rather sweat a lot once than have to run out here again and again to keep readjusting the sensors.
While I may not ever grow completely comfortable doing EVAs, as I walk myself back across the hull, to the airlock, I would say I've gotten very used to this part. My suit had slowly started alerting about the oxygen it has left for me. Since I'm done, though, it's nothing to worry about. With the airlock within reach I sigh, relieved, and just moments later let myself drop inside.
Now I just need to close it and wait for it to repressurize and then—
Well, the thermal cover is down but the actual outer hatch doesn't lock. I try, make a thinking sound. Try again. Make sort of an 'uh-oh' sound. A 'problem' sound.
Rocky understands that one. "What is problem, question?" He asks right away. I tell him, "Uh...The hatch is not closing right."
"What you mean, question?" "It won't lock." I'm already inside the airlock, inside the ship. I push hard against the hatch, hoping to get any indication of it latching this time, but nothing still.
"Is there anything on one of the screens?" I'm thinking maybe something minor that just needs an override. Maybe the Hail Mary got confused at my fiddling with the sensors, who even knows. "I am checking." I give Rocky a moment to do that. Holding his texture device up to my many screens in the control room is a bit of a hassle for him. Just like he's better working engineering taks with his five hands, I'm better at looking between five or so screens quickly.
"Have zero problems on screens." Well, there goes that idea. "Um, okay..." "Is okay, question?" Not exactly, but... "Yeah. Just let me think for a minute."
I could try again, just close the hatch door a little harder. No. Well, I do it, but obviously it doesn't work. I stare out into deep space, thinking for a moment. Then my suit beeps, again with the oxygen warning. I notice this time that it tells me how many liters I have left. That detail wasn't there before, I think...
Debris in the seal! I'll check for that. I check every inch of the perimeter of the hatch carefully...aaaaand it is... Not the reason. Dang it. All right, cycling the power to the door mechanism seemed excessive a minute ago, but my oxygen alert is beeping again. Six minutes—? I don't think it said that number before, either.
That makes me nervous all of a sudden. Okay, calm down, Ryland. I just take one deep breath, not thinking how I've got nothing to waste; except I do, if I breathe fast I'm just going to waste precious oxygen. Gosh, darn it!
"Rocky," I turn my thoughts elsewhere. Rebooting the door system takes about three, maybe three and a half minutes, "Can you go to the power settings and turn the power for the airlock outer hatch off and on again?" I'm not a computer expert, but I know this one.
"Yes." I see he does, as the little LEDs on the hatch turn off. I wait. "Grace," I don't expect Rocky to say anything else, figuring he's busy reading my screens, "Oxygen in you suit is low."
What, did that pop up on the screen? Is it really that much more important than power to the hatch!? "Yeah," I say calmly, "It's fine, once the hatch closes and airlock has pressure, I can get out of my suit." Then I can just breath my normal ship air again. I wait, leaning against the airlock walls.
It's four minutes when Rocky informs me the power should be back on. I see lights flash back up on the hatch and the tiny display that is only there to show a few important numbers also comes back to life. The writing is in green, that should be good.
I push off the wall, feeling a little dizzy. I'm hot, a little tired. The first thing I try is to simply push the hatch closed like normal again. It still doesn't work. This time I slam my fist against it. Rocky gets the vibrations through the ship. "Why you hit hatch, question?" "It's still..." I find myself feeling a little sluggish. "It's still not closing."
"Close hatch manually," Rocky instructs me. I'm a little frustrated at his tone. I just tried that! Even so, "Yeah." I push the door into the seal, it doesn't latch of course. Then I lean all my mass against it. Zero gravity makes getting my footing in the airlock difficult, too. My thick gloved hands fumble along the hatch door. Suddenly, my oxygen gauge pops up red. What the— Did I miss orange before? Whatever. Can't dillydally... with this...
I feel like I'm breathing fine, but–
Crud... I locked myself in... out... of my house... in space...!
Finally, I feel a thump against my shoulder as I'm leaning against the hatch. I slide down next to the closed door.
......
I suddenly think of DuBois, how he was going to be on this ship. Probably not on the way to Erid, but... He explained to me how he was going to die: The suffocation reflex comes from excess carbon dioxide in the lungs, not lack of oxygen... The EVA suit has power, so the fan and CO2 scrubbers are still going... I'm simply going to get tired... and lightheaded...
Then, the computer telling me the airlock has repressurize jolts me out of my daze. Just as I wanted to do earlier, I rip my helmet off.
Oh my God!
Ah! I breathe! ...Was I not doing that? I suck in the sweet, sweet oxygen-rich 0.2 Earth pressure atmosphere. Rocky opens the inner airlock hatch.
He trills that he's never been so happy to have oxygen in the air when he sees me shuffling around to sit up. Well, me too.