Aboard Venture, Tea heard him. “Zack, what’s up?”
He managed to push himself upright. Fortunately his suit was so rugged that he had few worries of damaging it. “Me, again. Yvonne,” he called, “are you hurt?”
“Feel like I fell off a building.” She was trying for astronaut cool but sounded terrible. In fact, she sounded as though she might be going into shock.
“I’m almost there,” Zack said, hoping that was true; the silvery stub of Brahma was now only half-visible above the horizon. “Tea, I need Pogo—”
“He’s already in the lock, about to depress.”
“Is Houston in the loop?”
“Listening,” Tea said. “They’re talking to me and Pogo on B.”
“Okay.” Shuffle, slide. It was like cross-country skiing, but with no time to enjoy the scenery, which reminded him of the long-lost Arctic ice cap and its jagged, untouched mounds of snow. But all under a black sky and the huge blue sphere of the Earth.
To his right—was that a wisp? Vapor! Outgassing from Yvonne’s backpack, or possibly a leak. “Yvonne, I’ve got you in sight!”
Within moments he could see her, sprawled on her back facing away from him, one leg bent horribly. As Zack approached, he noticed the first sign of real color he had seen on the surface of Keanu . . . a bloodred mist rising from Yvonne’s injured leg and quickly freezing.
“Tell Pogo to pick it up!” he said.
Dear Lord, let me not fuck up.
THE ASTRONAUT’S PRAYER
Yvonne Hall was having a dream.
It had started out so beautifully, stepping down to the surface of Keanu. She felt snug, secure, strong in her suit . . . true, the surface had been icy and treacherous. But after a few steps, she had learned to move without feeling as if she would fall over.
She had managed to raise her head enough to see Earth in the black sky and wonder just how many of the invisible billions there were watching her steps here.
Then the dream had gone into nightmare territory. So strange! She had felt nothing beyond a sense that the snow beneath her feet had melted.
Her faceplate went white, and she felt herself lifted.
Twenty-two years ago, just before her parents split up, the family had taken a last-chance vacation in Mexico, where Yvonne had allowed herself to be strapped into a parachute harness, then hauled into the air behind a speedboat. After a moment of terror, she had enjoyed the feeling of nothing beneath her feet—
This experience started just like that, but within seconds had gone bad, bad, bad, as she tumbled through the fog and steam.
She could see the ground turning crazily, ten or more meters below. And through her confusion, she wondered, How long before I smash? and Oh my God did I fuck up? and I’m sorry!
But all through that long arc she felt nothing! The suit protected her from the steam, isolated her from temperatures, kept her alive—as long as it held.
She descended slowly—and here the experience was exactly like dropping to that beach in Mexico—but was unable to turn herself at all. She fell like a doll thrown onto the snow and rock, face first.
She tried to raise her arms, too late. Her nose smashed into her faceplate. Her leg bent under her so viciously she could feel cartilage tear and bones break.
As she slid to a stop, she tasted blood and blinked tears.
But she was alive. What about her suit? If it tore she would hear hissing, start feeling cold—but only for a few minutes.
She realized the only sound was her own harsh breathing. Okay, that was good.
Someone was calling her. Zack!
Then she did hear a small hiss. She could feel a chill.
Her suit had been breached! In pain, she rolled over . . . she could not feel her left leg.
No wonder. It was bent in a way that couldn’t possibly be good. And just above the knee there was a mist of pink.
Okay, okay. Training. When in doubt—What the hell did astronauts tell themselves again?
She fumbled for the equipment bag on her chest. She was getting colder, breathing faster. How long? Where was Zack? Goddammit, why wasn’t he here?
A bungee cord. There. Fumbling, she managed to get it—fuck, only halfway!
She rolled again. God, that hurt.
Zack: “Yvonne, can you tell me where you are?”
Got it! Around the leg. Pull it. Tight. Tight! Seal it. “Uh, down.”
That was all she could do.
Time passed. Might have been seconds, might have been ten minutes. She began to think about Tea and Pogo, and the nasty little secret within her personal kit, the Item that actually filled the container—
She felt herself being lifted. “I’ve got you.” Zack! Zack had found her!
“Careful!” she begged. Or, at least, that was what she thought she said.
She realized he was carrying her! Of course, though human-sized, she probably only weighed a couple of kilograms—
They both fell over. “Shit! Sorry!” Zack again. Yvonne couldn’t feel her leg anymore.
She was picked up again, but this time it wasn’t just Zack; someone else helped. Another astronaut, not Pogo Downey. The suit was blue, not white—
From Brahma, veteran cosmonaut Dennis Chertok and Brazilian Lucas Munaretto, the handsome, self-styled World’s Greatest Astronaut. “Okay, we’ve got some help here,” Zack told her. “You’ll be back in Venture in a few minutes.”
She still felt dreamy.
The only thing she kept telling herself, over and over again, was, Don’t mention your PPK.
If information is received or it is discovered that the personnel of a spacecraft have alighted on the high seas or in any other place not under the jurisdiction of any State, those Contracting Parties which are in a position to do so shall, if necessary, extend assistance in search and rescue operations for such personnel. . . .
ARTICLE 3, AGREEMENT ON THE RESCUE OF ASTRONAUTS,
THE RETURN OF ASTRONAUTS AND THE RETURN OF OBJECTS
LAUNCHED INTO OUTER SPACE (1968)
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Just two hours after the eruption and rescue of Yvonne Hall, Zack Stewart stared at the bland panel of the Venture workstation. Shane Weldon had just told him something he could not believe. Rather, something he could not accept.
Dennis and Lucas had helped Zack carry Yvonne back to Venture, meeting Pogo on the way. Since Dennis was a medical doctor, Zack allowed him into his spacecraft to attend to the injured astronaut. The impact on consumables was negligible, for now. “You two play nicely, okay?” he told Pogo and Lucas.
“Maybe we’ll try to get to step one of the checklist,” Pogo said.
“Both checklists,” Lucas added.
“If you can, but stay very close to the lander.” He feared another eruption.
Wedging three suited spacewalkers into the airlock had been tricky, especially with one of them immobilized. But it had worked. Still wearing his suit, sans helmet, Zack had wormed his way into the main cabin, leaving Tea to assist Dennis with Yvonne.
He grabbed a headset, where he heard Pogo patiently updating Houston on the situation.
“Zack is online,” he announced. Without waiting, he delivered a brief update on Yvonne: alive, badly injured, being attended to by Russian doctor-cosmonaut.
All Weldon could say was, “Copy.” Which surprised Zack, until he heard, “Channel B.”
Switching over to the encrypted link, he expected a torrent of questions from his flight director, not just about Yvonne’s physical condition but also her mental state. But Weldon had another surprise. “We’ve got news from the Home Team. It appears you didn’t land on a NEO.”