thrusters had been deployed to keep them in the probe’s vicinity long enough to carry out this operation. “We haven’t been hiding from it,” he pointed out. “If it’s capable of spotting us, it doesn’t seem to care.”
“So far,” she said.
“Hey, astronauts are optimists, remember?”
“Yes,” Fontana countered, “but we’re not supposed to be daredevils—or bomb-demolition experts.”
Shaun hoped the probe wasn’t wired to self-destruct. “Don’t be silly. Who would bomb Saturn?”
“Pluto?” Zoe suggested. “Maybe it’s still pissed off about not being a planet anymore.”
The stowaway floated beyond the doorway, just outside the airlock. Fontana shot her a dirty look. “You know, it’s not too late to lock you up again.”
Fontana had proposed confining Zoe to the docking ring while they were using the airlock, but Shaun had vetoed that idea. For better or for worse, the intrepid blogger had been aboard the ship for monthsand had never given them any reason to suspect her of malignant intent. Furthermore, her story had checked out, so he figured it was safe to let her act as an observer.
“Nah,” Shaun said. “This is possibly the biggest news story of all time. It would be a crime to exclude the only reporter in one-point-two billion kilometers.”
More importantly, if things did get hairy, he didn’t want anyone locked up with no escape route. What if they needed to evacuate part of the ship in a hurry?
“If you say so,” Fontana said grudgingly. “Say, if there is an alien, maybe we can trade her for the probe.” She thought better of the idea. “No, scratch that. I wouldn’t wish that on any species.”
“Love you, too,” Zoe retorted.
Fontana ignored her. “Let me go with you,” she volunteered. A second spacesuit hung in a niche on the wall. There was no suit for O’Herlihy; protocol dictated that one astronaut remain inside the vessel during every spacewalk. “I can help.”
He shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m not risking both pilots. Somebody has to steer this ship if something happens to me.” Glancing down at himself, he thought he looked like a clown with oversized pants. “Let’s just finish getting me suited up. I’ve got an appointment with a probe.”
The other two astronauts held up the hard upper torso assembly so he could wriggle into it. He was grateful for the lack of gravity; the bulky suit wouldhave weighed more than a hundred pounds on Earth, and that wasn’t counting the jet pack, which he had yet to put on. The life-support system on his back was loaded down with oxygen tanks, fans, pumps, and a water supply. Fontana and O’Herlihy locked the two halves of the suit together and made sure the connections were airtight. Shaun put on his “Snoopy cap” himself. The headphones pressed against his ears. He adjusted the miniature microphone in front of his lips.
“We’ll be monitoring you every second,” O’Herlihy said. He handed Shaun a pair of thick white gloves. Molded rubber fingertips were meant to provide a better grip. He slipped the gloves onto Shaun’s hands and affixed them to metal rings at the end of the sleeves. “Take care . . . and good luck.”
“Thanks, Marcus. Don’t leave without me, okay?”
The doctor chuckled. “As if I know how to drive this thing.”
Fontana approached with Shaun’s helmet, which was made of a tough polycarbonate material. A gold-tinted visor provided protection from UV rays and any glare from the planet and its rings. Built-in cameras and lights were attached to the sides of the helmet.
“Don’t forget your hat,” she said. “I hear it’s cold out.”
O’Herlihy retreated to give them more room and perhaps a bit of privacy.
“I don’t like this,” she whispered. “Not one bit.”
“I know.” He retrieved his lucky dog tags from a hook on the wall, where he had hung them earlier. NASA frowned on accessorizing its high-tech spacesuits. He placed
“So far,” she said.
“Hey, astronauts are optimists, remember?”
“Yes,” Fontana countered, “but we’re not supposed to be daredevils—or bomb-demolition experts.”
Shaun hoped the probe wasn’t wired to self-destruct. “Don’t be silly. Who would bomb Saturn?”
“Pluto?” Zoe suggested. “Maybe it’s still pissed off about not being a planet anymore.”
The stowaway floated beyond the doorway, just outside the airlock. Fontana shot her a dirty look. “You know, it’s not too late to lock you up again.”
Fontana had proposed confining Zoe to the docking ring while they were using the airlock, but Shaun had vetoed that idea. For better or for worse, the intrepid blogger had been aboard the ship for monthsand had never given them any reason to suspect her of malignant intent. Furthermore, her story had checked out, so he figured it was safe to let her act as an observer.
“Nah,” Shaun said. “This is possibly the biggest news story of all time. It would be a crime to exclude the only reporter in one-point-two billion kilometers.”
More importantly, if things did get hairy, he didn’t want anyone locked up with no escape route. What if they needed to evacuate part of the ship in a hurry?
“If you say so,” Fontana said grudgingly. “Say, if there is an alien, maybe we can trade her for the probe.” She thought better of the idea. “No, scratch that. I wouldn’t wish that on any species.”
“Love you, too,” Zoe retorted.
Fontana ignored her. “Let me go with you,” she volunteered. A second spacesuit hung in a niche on the wall. There was no suit for O’Herlihy; protocol dictated that one astronaut remain inside the vessel during every spacewalk. “I can help.”
He shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m not risking both pilots. Somebody has to steer this ship if something happens to me.” Glancing down at himself, he thought he looked like a clown with oversized pants. “Let’s just finish getting me suited up. I’ve got an appointment with a probe.”
The other two astronauts held up the hard upper torso assembly so he could wriggle into it. He was grateful for the lack of gravity; the bulky suit wouldhave weighed more than a hundred pounds on Earth, and that wasn’t counting the jet pack, which he had yet to put on. The life-support system on his back was loaded down with oxygen tanks, fans, pumps, and a water supply. Fontana and O’Herlihy locked the two halves of the suit together and made sure the connections were airtight. Shaun put on his “Snoopy cap” himself. The headphones pressed against his ears. He adjusted the miniature microphone in front of his lips.
“We’ll be monitoring you every second,” O’Herlihy said. He handed Shaun a pair of thick white gloves. Molded rubber fingertips were meant to provide a better grip. He slipped the gloves onto Shaun’s hands and affixed them to metal rings at the end of the sleeves. “Take care . . . and good luck.”
“Thanks, Marcus. Don’t leave without me, okay?”
The doctor chuckled. “As if I know how to drive this thing.”
Fontana approached with Shaun’s helmet, which was made of a tough polycarbonate material. A gold-tinted visor provided protection from UV rays and any glare from the planet and its rings. Built-in cameras and lights were attached to the sides of the helmet.
“Don’t forget your hat,” she said. “I hear it’s cold out.”
O’Herlihy retreated to give them more room and perhaps a bit of privacy.
“I don’t like this,” she whispered. “Not one bit.”
“I know.” He retrieved his lucky dog tags from a hook on the wall, where he had hung them earlier. NASA frowned on accessorizing its high-tech spacesuits. He placed
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