Free Starfire by Dale Brown Page A

station unseal,” Shale said.
    â€œRoger. Armstrong, Midnight ready for station-side unseal,” Boomer said. He pointed at the instrument panel’s multifunction display, which showed air pressure in the spaceplane, on the station’s docking module, and now inside the transfer tunnel linking the two. The tunnel pressure read zero . . . and just then, the pressure inside the tunnel slowly began to rise. It took almost ten minutes for the tunnel to fully pressurize. Everyone watched for any sign of the pressure dropping, indicating a leak, but it held steady.
    â€œPressure’s holding, Boomer,” Shale reported.
    â€œI concur,” Boomer said. “Everyone ready to equalize?”
    â€œI’m good, Boomer,” Gonzo replied. “The second passenger is too.”
    â€œClear to open her up, Gonzo.”
    They felt a slight pressure in their ears as the spaceplane’s higher cabin pressure equalized with the station’s slightly lower pressure, but it wasn’t painful and lasted just an instant. A moment later: “Transfer hatches open, second passenger on his way through.”
    â€œCopy that, Gonzo,” Boomer said. He started to unstrap from his seat. “I’ll unstrap first, sir,” he told his passenger, “and then I’ll get into the airlock while you unstrap, and I’ll steer you out and up.” The passenger nodded but said nothing; Boomer noticed a rather distant expression on the first passenger’s face and wondered what he was thinking about so hard. The hard stuff was done—all he had to do now was float around the big station, look around, and be a space tourist until it was time to go home.
    But after Boomer unfastened his lap and shoulder restraints and was about to float out of his seat, the passenger held his arm. “I want to do it, Boomer,” he said.
    â€œDo what, sir?”
    The passenger looked at Boomer, then motioned out the right side of the cockpit with a nod of his head. “Out. That way.”
    The passenger could see Boomer’s eyes flash through his helmet in disbelief, even alarm, but soon a pleased smile spread across his face. “You really want to do it, sir?” he asked incredulously.
    â€œBoomer, I’m doing several incredibly amazing things today,” the passenger said, “but I know that I’ll be mad at myself if I return to Earth having passed it up. We’ve done enough of that oxygen prebreathing, haven’t we? There’s no danger of getting the ‘bends,’ is there?”
    â€œSir, a case of decompression sickness might be the least hazardous aspect of a spacewalk,” Boomer said, his mind racing through the checklist in his head to see what might prohibit this. “But to answer your question: yes, we’ve been prebreathing pure oxygen for over four hours, so we should be good.” He clicked open the ship-to-station intercom. “General Raydon? He wants to do it. Right now. Out the cockpit and through the station’s airlock, not the tunnel.”
    â€œStand by, Boomer,” replied a different voice.
    â€œThat’s the second guy on station that seems exasperated talking with you, Boomer,” the passenger observed once again with a smile.
    â€œBelieve it or not, sir, we talked about this too,” Boomer said. “We truly wanted you to have the full experience. That’s why we put you in a full ACES advanced crew escape system space suit instead of a more comfortable partial-pressure suit—it’s rated for short EVAs, or extra-vehicular activities. You sure your folks back at home base will like what you’re about to do?”
    â€œThey may not like it at all, Boomer,” the passenger said, “but they’re down there, and I’m up here. Let’s do it.” As if signaling concurrence, a moment later a mechanical arm extended from a hatch on another side of the docking module,