In the Quick

by Kate Hope Day

  I got to the part about the antenna before she said anything.

  You think the Inquiry crew are alive. Despite her physical exertion, her tone was even. Unemotional.

  Yes.

  And you want us to install an antenna during our spacewalk so you can prove it.

  It won’t take long—

  Dimitri, Lee, Missy, and Anu are dead.

  That’s what everyone thinks.

  They’re right. Because the alternative is— Her pace slowed by a little, and she shook her head slightly. Unthinkable.

  She sped up again.

  I kicked my body forward in the air and put my hand over the porthole in front of her. If they’re alive we can save them.

  She looked at me. She was so thin. Sweat had pooled in the sharp notch of her clavicle.

  Did you talk to Simon about this?

  My feet waved in the air below me. Yes.

  She sat back in her seat and the pedals of the bike drifted slowly forward. That was a cruel thing to do.

  Can we install the antenna or not?

  It’s a waste of time.

  You’re wrong.

  I waited for her to round on me then, to tell me off. She’d done it before, when we disagreed about the fastest method to unload a shipment or the best way to fix a piece of equipment.

  But she didn’t. She turned back to the porthole, gripped the handlebars of the bike tighter, and sped up. The only fuel cells that could carry an explorer that far failed, she said. And we don’t know why.

  We could find out—

  We tried. We were all on the Pink Planet for months—me, Simon, James, and Theresa. Taking the fuel cell apart and putting it back together, hoping the rescue mission could be salvaged. James and Theresa are still there. It’s driven them half mad and they still don’t have an answer.

  My stomach pressed against my skin. I didn’t know that.

  There’s no way to reach the Inquiry crew. If they’re alive—a little shudder moved through her body—all we can hope for is that they figure out how to save themselves.

  30

  Amelia wouldn’t talk to me about it anymore that day. But I didn’t care. They were alive. I couldn’t know that and do nothing; I couldn’t know that and sit still. The sound—the rush of air, the high pops—was always with me now, which meant the Inquiry crew were always with me too. When the question of how we would get to them—and whether we could do it in time—came into my mind, I told myself, One thing at a time.

  Then Simon discovered a leak in his suit, and the plan for the spacewalk changed. We couldn’t wait to repair the gyroscope because it was essential to keeping the station from slipping out of orbit. Rachel had to operate the robotic arm to deliver the new rotor for the failing gyroscope. So the spacewalk would have to be performed by Amelia and me.

  In the airlock Amelia and I got into our suits. It had been weeks since I’d been in a suit and I struggled to push my limbs inside. My body was different inside its white layers, had expanded in some places and shrunk in others. My torso felt wobbly, but that was nerves. I’d already stowed an antenna in an outer compartment of my suit. I planned to install it next to the urine processing vent if given the opportunity. I hadn’t told anyone; I had hidden it that morning when I was doing systems checks alone.

  I locked my helmet. Amelia tested the seals on our suits by raising the pressure inside the airlock, and we checked and rechecked our oxygen tanks. Together we opened the egress hatch and sparkling dust burst from the station. Small bolts and screws and a pencil bumped along the lock’s walls and wafted away. We blinked in the blinding sunlight.

  Amelia pulled out a platform with foot restraints attached to it, and we transferred our tether cord clips from inside to outside and secured our boots. Then we let go and our arms floated and our tethers waved behind us like long tails. It felt as if we weren’t moving, as if the station stood still, even though we were speeding at eighteen thousand miles per hour around the Earth. There was complete silence. No wind. No vibration, despite everything going on inside the station’s walls, all its fans and pipes and wires.

  Amelia talked into her radio, We’re proceeding aftward to the gyroscope panel.

  Rachel’s voice sounded in our helmets, Roger that.

  We pulled ourselves along on the handrails and navigated over and around jutting trusses, equipment, and antennae to the gyroscope compartment at the stern side of the station. When we reached the gray box we strapped our feet to the restraints below it. The Earth was gigantic ahead of us and its blues and greens and whites pressed hard against my eyes.

  Amelia retrieved a screwdriver from her tool belt and began to slowly unscrew the compartment’s outer panel, and then its inner panel. Each screw she carefully placed inside her belt. We’re going to rotate the interior tray to access the R3 gyroscope, she told Rachel.

  Okay. I’m going to start moving the arm into position.

  Amelia positioned herself on one side of the tray, and I did on the other. The sun was behind us now and the station shined brilliantly like sun on water. Through my gloves I felt the heat of my handrail, like the handle of a pot left on the stove too long. We turned the tray, and then pulled it halfway out of its compartment. I pushed my body inside, opened the R3 gyroscope, and began to unscrew the malfunctioning rotor. Above Amelia’s head the arm inched toward us.

  We had practiced the steps of the repair two times inside, but in our bulky suits each action took three times as long and the job was less a series of steps than a kind of halting slow-motion dance. We usually worked well together. But today was different. Amelia handed me tools before I was ready; our helmets knocked against each other as we reached into the compartment at the same time.

  I’m in position, Rachel said. Are you ready?

  Not even close, Amelia said. Our shoulders bumped and her wrench slipped from her hand and wobbled away—and then snapped back on its tether. Would you move? she said to me.

  I’m doing exactly what we did inside, I said.

  No, you’re not. You’re off.

  So are you.

  Whose fault is that?

  How is it my fault—

  Amelia switched her radio to the two-way channel so only I could hear.

  I don’t want to think about them, she said. If I’m thinking about them, I can’t do my job.

  The Inquiry crew.

  Yes.

  The Earth slid past us; a storm swirled off the coast of Africa.

  If they’re alive don’t you want to know? I asked.

  Your bed was next to Carla’s your first year at Peter Reed, she said.

  Yes.

  Anu’s was next to mine.

  The array behind her helmet sparked and flared.

  She was so smart, Amelia said. And strong. She built the communications system on Inquiry. If she were alive we’d know it.

  She switched back to the three-way channel. We worked silently: detached the new rotor from the robotic arm, slid it into place, and slowly tightened it. The angle was awkward and Amelia’s wrench could move only a quarter rotation at a time. I took a turn; we went back and forth until it was finally secure.

  We’re nearing the two-hour mark, Rachel said.

  I want to look at the other gyroscopes, Amelia said. If their rotors are degrading like R3’s did—

  Save it for the next spacewalk.

  If we need to ask for another rotor in the next packet I want to know now.

  Fine. But do it fast.

  We entered the Earth’s shadow and turned on our headlamps. The irregular shapes of the station shined darkly in the cool light of the moon, its arrays glinting silver in the deep black. From where we were I could see the length of its starboard and the panel that contained the urine processor vent.

  June. Rachel’s voice c
ame through my radio. There’s a loose panel near the hatch. If you’re staying out there I want you to take a look.

  Amelia motioned. Go ahead. I can do this myself.

  The urine processor vent was only a yard farther starboard than the loose panel, and I thought, I can do both. It would be the work of only a few minutes. I pulled myself from handrail to handrail, navigating around equipment, fighting the drift of my legs and feet. I began to sweat. I halved the distance to the panel and then my tether pulled taut. It wasn’t going to reach. I turned, crawled back, and hastily moved my tether clip.

  The vent was inconspicuous among all the other jutting and shining equipment on the starboard side of the station. But I knew exactly what to look for.

  You’ve gone too far, Rachel said. Turn around.

  I didn’t answer. I reached the vent, took out the antenna, and quickly began to screw it into an unused port next to the vent. I was sweating hard; my hands were slippery inside my gloves and my visor fogged.

  Rachel’s voice came through my helmet again. The loose panel’s behind you—

  I looked back the way I came. Amelia was still inside the gyroscope compartment.

  I had six screws left.

  Tell me what you’re doing, Rachel said.

  I’m attaching an antenna.

  Amelia’s voice: What antenna?

  I turned and we looked at each other across the station’s shining starboard. The sun reappeared and its reflection moved across Amelia’s helmet, made it opaque. I couldn’t see her face but I could hear her breathing.

  They’re dead, she said.

  I tightened my grip on the handrail and turned back to the antenna. They’re not.

  Rachel’s voice was stern inside my helmet. I don’t know what this is about but I want you both to move back to the hatch.

  I felt movement behind me. Amelia was pulling herself toward me.

  I had one screw left. It was done.

  I faced her. They’re out there, I said. They’re alive, and I’m going to prove it.

  My tether cord was looped around my left arm and I let go of the handrail to shrug it off. My legs floated out from under me, but my tether caught me. I felt its clip catch. I began to reel myself in.

  But Amelia was looking at something. She was moving fast— My tether went slack and I had a sickening feeling of being let go. I looked—my clip floated free. Amelia had seen it before I had, and she scrambled for it. I drifted despite my hands grabbing. My breath was a roar inside my helmet. I was one foot away from the station, three. Four.

  The station got smaller. The stars brighter. I saw white feet in front of my eyes. My white feet.

  Amelia! Rachel’s voice came through the radio. And Simon’s too. Port side! There, there!

  The station slid from my sight as I rotated backward in the air, boots over head, slowly at first, and then faster. My organs swayed; vomit stole up my throat. I waved my arms as the Earth flashed blue and green and white, and the station black and gray.

  Then—a strong tug at my back. Amelia had grabbed the loose tether, was pulling me back in. I heard the rush of her breathing, and my breathing. We bounced and our helmets cracked together. I held on and she held on. We spun into open air and the station was upside down, sideways. Amelia’s tether snapped us back. We slid down the starboard and I scrambled for a handrail, an antenna, anything to slow us down. Amelia reached for the loose panel just as both our bodies slammed into it hard.

  The panel pinned her hand and she cursed, pulled it free. Our trajectory slowed. Our eyes met through our visors and hers were twisted in pain. She gripped the tethers with one hand, her left. She dragged us to the hatch door, and through it. It shut behind us with a hiss and a thunk, and we collapsed against the wall. She held her right hand to her chest. Her glove was the wrong shape.

  How bad is it? I reached for her glove. How bad—

  She pulled away. Wait. Her face was gray. Wait for the lock—

  Pressurized air rushed around us as we waited for the green light to flash.

  III

  31

  Earth’s gravity pressed at my hips as I swung my legs from the Candidate dormitory cot to the floor. Two points of cottony pain throbbed in my ears but every other sensation was muffled. I’d been back on Earth for five days but my vision was still fuzzy, my fingertips dull. My tongue lay flat inside my mouth, dry and inert.

  I set my feet flat on the floor. They were swollen three times their normal size with edema and seemed to squish. I stood, swayed slightly, and saw sparks at the corners of my eyes—but I was used to that. It happened every time I stood up and I was beginning to wonder if it would ever go away. I took a tentative step and squirmed at the sensation of my fluid-filled toes against the hard ground. My oversize compression slippers were tucked under the bed and I inched my feet inside.

  I had been staying in the Candidate dormitory since I got back, making slow circuits between my room, the cafeteria, and the rehab gym. I heard about Amelia only from Rachel or Simon. I hadn’t seen her since she’d been evacuated from the Sundew almost three weeks ago. I knew she had lost her hand, and I knew she wouldn’t want to see me. So I didn’t go visit her, even though Rachel kept asking me to.

  I’d lived at the Candidate dormitory before, the year between Peter Reed and being posted to the Sundew—when I’d walked through the halls knowing I was one of the few in the Candidate program who could expect a job in space, rather than in a control room or lab or training facility on Earth. Back then I’d felt larger than life and prepared for anything. Now everything looked the same but felt different. The colors of the furniture and walls seemed brighter; I felt small inside rooms that appeared taller, or wider.

  In the cafeteria I toasted a waffle and put peanut butter on it. I had a vague sense of the noise in the room behind me, but the pressure in my ears made it impossible to distinguish individual sounds, and when I moved my knife across the waffle it made no sound.

  I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned. Lion was standing in front of me. He looked tall and healthy; his hair was a brown halo around his head.

  His mouth was moving but I shook my head, tapped at my ear.

  I can’t hear you, I said, and he leaned closer.

  I was able to make out one word. Amelia.

  I shook my head and opened my mouth wide, and the pressure released slightly.

  Sit with me, he said, and pointed to an empty table.

  We sat down and I cut up my waffle into small pieces, the knife and fork cold and strange in my swollen fingers. What were you trying to say before? I asked, probably too loudly, because the people one table over turned and looked at me.

  He leaned across the table. Amelia’s being fitted for her prosthetic this week.

  I put a piece of waffle into my mouth and chewed it on the left side—the descent to Earth had loosened some fillings in my molars and my right jaw was tender.

  You should go see her, Lion said. I was there with Carla.

  My throat was dry and I tried to swallow the piece of waffle.

  She’s been asking for you, he said. She wants to know why you haven’t come.

  Do you know what happened?

  I heard.

  She doesn’t want to see me. Not really.

  Listen. I just told you she does.

  * * *

  —

  Every sound was muted as the shuttle bus lurched through campus. Outside it was early fall and the sunshine made yellow spots on the floor. I watched the spots shift left and then right as we passed flat green fields and squat gray buildings. But when the bus paused in front of the veterans’ hospital I didn’t get up. My body felt anchored to the blue carpeted seat. I hadn’t been there since my uncle was sick and I didn’t want to go back.

  The bus moved on and I rode it through its whole hour
-long loop. When it reached the hospital stop for the second time I got out. I’d barely been outside since I’d arrived back on Earth, had been existing inside the chilly and still air of the Candidate dormitory for days. A tree stood a few yards away, a maple. Its large yellow leaves trembled in the breeze. The air was warm and humid and lifted my hair from my face.

  On the rehabilitation floor a nurse pointed me in the right direction, along a dimly lit corridor that smelled like bleach. I walked slowly, my ears full of woolly pain. The door the nurse had pointed to had a window, and through it I saw a room full of equipment and machines. Amelia was sitting at a table. A metal prosthetic was fitted to her wrist and a woman was adjusting something on its thumb.

  I opened the door. Amelia’s limbs were long and still. Her hair lay flat against her ears instead of floating away from her face. She turned toward me; her cheeks were pink. She said something I could barely hear. I think it was, Took you long enough.

  I didn’t think you’d want to see me. My voice seemed wrapped in cotton.

  She smiled at the woman and asked her if she could have a minute, and the woman stood and said, Just the thumb, okay?

  Got it, Amelia said, and waited until she left the room.

  I sat down across from her. Up close I saw that the prosthetic had a cupped and glossy palm and slender articulated fingers. I didn’t want to look at it. Out the window a large yellow leaf fell from a tree.

  Amelia pulled both hands into her lap and began speaking. Her voice was fuzzy. She was talking about Inquiry. I didn’t want to listen to you, she said, but I should have.

  I pressed my swollen foot hard into the floor. Amelia—

  She held up her good hand. I just want to talk about what we need to do.

  Even if they’re alive, we can’t get to them, I said. That’s what you told me.

  James says they’re close to a solution with the fuel cell.

  How close?

  NSP is sending you to the Pink Planet to find out.

  I don’t want to go anywhere. The pressure in my ears was worse and I shook my head and opened my mouth, pulled at my ears. I want to stay here.