Descending Road - SUITING UP by Dana W. Paxson

SUITING UP

0 NC, Day 0, Hour 12

“These things look like shit,” Elena said, hanging in zero-G. She slapped at a dusty space suit floating nearby; it rotated away from her and flopped against the opposite floor with a thud. The outside-access area, a cylindrical chamber with one end pointed outward along the axis of spin, lay at the aft end of the ship.

Miriam asked, “This is all we’ve got?” Her own calm surprised her; why wasn’t she scared or angry? Maybe this was a good way to go, without letting anyone know why. She could just poke a small hole, wait for anoxia.

“These were supposed to be emergency backup only, for the pods,” a wiry kid said as he and his female partner patch-sealed the suit seams. “Their maintenance nanos broke over five thousand years ago.” The two scrawny technicians tested and repaired the suit fabric and joints until they held air properly against vacuum.

“They shouldn’t even be this good after fifty centuries with no maint,” the young female tech said, floating with a suit in front of Miriam. “If you believe in anything, better ask it for some help on this little trip outside. We weren’t supposed to need these at all. Here, just in case.” She handed a fistful of tubes and dispensers to Miriam and Elena. “The red ones we’re short of, but they’re the best — that goo will dry just fine and flexible in hard vacuum. Use the grey stuff for the little cracks if you get them. Slap those green strips over anything big, and hope for the best. Just remember not to flex the joints too much.” She grinned and grabbed her partner by the arm. “Come on, Franz, we gotta get back to the lander to hump fuel. See you two in your dreams — or mine. Say hello to any bugs you meet.” Both techs giggled, kicked in unison, dropped to a circular catwalk, and left via a ladder.

They seemed to Miriam so blissfully ignorant of everything that mattered.

Elena‘s suit was a bit too short for her, foot-to-shoulder; Miriam‘s was much too roomy. They wriggled in, clamped the steel-and-plast helmets in place, and raised pressure. A hint of burning metal and lemon and ozone made Miriam‘s nose wrinkle; these suits bore thousands of years of accumulated ionizations and transmutations. The safety check took several minutes. No radio — where had the techs said the controls were? Miriam fumbled at her waist with thick gloves. There.

“— cuts into my shoulders like a yoke,” Elena‘s voice blared.

Miriam punched the volume down. “Weren’t there any that fit better?”

“No. All the bigger suits had too many leaks. On one of them, the arm just fell off.”

Speaking into a hand comm unit, Arnell recited: “No chances with the suits, no deep explorations, just look for small artifacts and objects. Everything you take must be disinfectable. No tampering with mechanisms or interfaces. We’ll run monitors at all times, get all the record you can. Come back at the two-hour mark, no later. We’ll maintain position with the object until you’re safely back.

“There’s no sign of life, but it looks as if this thing somehow changed orbit to meet us. Remember that. Best wishes — I’ll be watching you all the way.” The Commander tapped their helmets and then kicked away to the catwalk.

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	SUITING UP 0 NC, Day 0, Hour 12 “These things look like shit,” Elena said, hanging in zero-G. She slapped at a dusty space suit floating nearby; it rotated away from her and flopped against the opposite floor with a thud. The outside-access area, a cylindrical chamber with one end pointed outward along the axis of spin, lay at the aft end of the ship. Miriam asked, “This is all we’ve got?” Her own calm surprised her; why wasn’t she scared or angry? Maybe this was a good way to go, without letting anyone know why. She could just poke a small hole, wait for anoxia. “These were supposed to be emergency backup only, for the pods,” a wiry kid said as he and his female partner patch-sealed the suit seams. “Their maintenance nanos broke over five thousand years ago.” The two scrawny technicians tested and repaired the suit fabric and joints until they held air properly against vacuum. “They shouldn’t even be this good after fifty centuries with no maint,” the young female tech said, floating with a suit in front of Miriam. “If you believe in anything, better ask it for some help on this little trip outside. We weren’t supposed to need these at all. Here, just in case.” She handed a fistful of tubes and dispensers to Miriam and Elena. “The red ones we’re short of, but they’re the best — that goo will dry just fine and flexible in hard vacuum. Use the grey stuff for the little cracks if you get them. Slap those green strips over anything big, and hope for the best. Just remember not to flex the joints too much.” She grinned and grabbed her partner by the arm. “Come on, Franz, we gotta get back to the lander to hump fuel. See you two in your dreams — or mine. Say hello to any bugs you meet.” Both techs giggled, kicked in unison, dropped to a circular catwalk, and left via a ladder. They seemed to Miriam so blissfully ignorant of everything that mattered. Elena‘s suit was a bit too short for her, foot-to-shoulder; Miriam‘s was much too roomy. They wriggled in, clamped the steel-and-plast helmets in place, and raised pressure. A hint of burning metal and lemon and ozone made Miriam‘s nose wrinkle; these suits bore thousands of years of accumulated ionizations and transmutations. The safety check took several minutes. No radio — where had the techs said the controls were? Miriam fumbled at her waist with thick gloves. There. “— cuts into my shoulders like a yoke,” Elena‘s voice blared. Miriam punched the volume down. “Weren’t there any that fit better?” “No. All the bigger suits had too many leaks. On one of them, the arm just fell off.” Speaking into a hand comm unit, Arnell recited: “No chances with the suits, no deep explorations, just look for small artifacts and objects. Everything you take must be disinfectable. No tampering with mechanisms or interfaces. We’ll run monitors at all times, get all the record you can. Come back at the two-hour mark, no later. We’ll maintain position with the object until you’re safely back. “There’s no sign of life, but it looks as if this thing somehow changed orbit to meet us. Remember that. Best wishes — I’ll be watching you all the way.” The Commander tapped their helmets and then kicked away to the catwalk.