The Moonwalker

Chapter 14.4

The trip back to ILUB-2 is disjointed. Aula doesn't pass out, but she's preoccupied. Time has no other measurement than too long. She lies on the SEV's floor, half of her face aglow with pain. Every bump in the road goes straight through her, but she refuses to complain. Bauer checks her bandages often while Harvey is exceptionally quiet behind the wheel. She looks up at the roof and winces when a bump jostles her.

She's stuck with an unpleasant luxury: time to think. Instead of lingering on the thousands of anxieties vying for attention, she focuses on the mission. Something gave in the Whipple shield when she pressed her hand against it. Her focus was on the fuel line, but the entire section of that bumper was weak. The threat of LOx couldn't be ignored. Perhaps something in the pinched hose was the culprit. Kalashnikoff confirmed the MAF was dormant, but the meteorite could've clamped down on remaining fuel. Although NASA constantly overengineered its machines, -140 ℃ temperatures after structural failure would take its toll. Harvey faced her when the accident happened. His camera should provide more data and a better perspective.

They hit a bump. Aula sucks in a deep breath and holds it until her pulse thunders in her ears.

Harvey risks a glance over his shoulder. "Still alive back there?"

She waves his concern away and exhales sharply through her nose. The left side of her face throbs in time with her heartbeat. What will Sophia make of it? Or Anaaya? She listens to the SEV's suspension creak quietly. Their lives follow separate trajectories. It shouldn't matter. The idea that it does tugs a thread of anger embedded deep in her guts. This is exactly why she shed all ties when she left to test aircraft. It creates distractions and casualties. Especially a relationship like theirs, which is complicated by gender, ethnicity, and another man's child. Although by the end, Anaaya didn't feel like Bobby's, did she?

Aula braves a fresh crackle of pain. "How 'ong?"

"We're forty-five minutes out. Skies are clear." Bauer leans over the left side of his chair. "I can give you more anesthetic if it's wearing off."

"Mm mm."

"Let me know if you change your mind."

She blinks slowly as an acknowledgement, but they both know she won't.

Forty-five minutes is simultaneously an eternity and the blink of an eye. Aula feels the SEV's hum slow down and stop. She sits up before either Bauer or Harvey can slide out of their seats. Her body is shaky, too warm, and weak, but she isn't a complete invalid. She grits her teeth and tries to summon the strength to stand. Pain isn't the problem. She's learned to live with pain. It's the profound sense of depletion in her muscles as if lying down consumes the same energy as a marathon.

"Slow down." Bauer hooks her right arm over his neck and helps her up. "We're not in any hurry."

Harvey moves past them to prepare his suit. He opens the Z-1's hatch and sticks his head in. When he leans back, his face is twisted into a grimace.

"You're going to smell like my armpits for a while."

She laughs a little for his sake, but pain cuts her short. Bauer helps her manoeuvre to the hatch. Both he and Harvey hover beside her as she slowly lifts one leg, then the other, and slides into the Z-1's soft portion. Herself and Harvey both nearly six feet tall so his suit fits relatively well. She ducks her head and pushes up into the upper torso. It does stink, but she's rewarded with a view of the outside. Her own suit lies prone on the SEV's platform. The visor is rimed with blood and ice. The pressure must be low, but not enough to cause water vapour to immediately boil off. That's promising.

"You alright in there, Al?"

"Mmhmm."

Vibrations jangle up her body. She looks over at Bauer's suit in time to see his face appear in the visor. He looks back at her and gives a thumbs up. She raises her eyebrows in response, which seems to be good enough for him. Lights flash in her peripheral vision. When she looks right, Kalashnikoff hops towards their SEV.

"Operation Babewatch going smoothly?"

Bauer disengages from the SEV's hatch. "It's Baywatch, Alexei."

"Oh, of course. Please excusing my English."

"Uh-huh." He turns around. "Ready when you are, Harvey."

"Copy."

Aula leans her head against one side of her Z-1. She doesn't waste energy reassuring them with an insult. A hand pats her back before the hatch is activated. She feels the suit release from the SEV. Bauer immediately places his hands on her shoulders.

"I gotchya, Reed. You ready to move?"

She holds her head up straight and nods.

"Alexei, you ready?"

"Of course."

"ILUB-2, we're heading in."

"We see you," Ward replies. "Both airlocks are ready to receive."

Bauer guides Aula towards the ladder, but she manages to catch another glimpse at her Z-1 as they walk by. He catches the direction of her stare, but doesn't say anything.

Although she and Harvey are nearly the same height, his hands are larger than hers. His gloves are more cumbersome. She grasps the railing and slowly dangles her left leg looking for the next step. Kalashnikoff grabs her boot and plants it on the rung. That's all the help she needs. She lets muscle memory take over and climbs down the ladder. When she reaches the bottom, he steadies her with both hands so they stand face to face.

Kalashnikoff stares at her. "Huh. Grim Reed one, Grim Reaper zero."

"Don't jinx us," Bauer says as he climbs down.

They've all been trained to help rescue injured crew mates. Aula fights the urge to shrug them off and walk on her own. It's not that she can't, but her grand gesture would leave her too weak to stand up for the next half an hour in the airlock. She gets the feeling that they need to help her, too. Part of it is personal, part of it is gender. Men have a harder time watching women die the same way they do.

The three of them lope to the Armstrong airlock. They're forced to move slowly to keep in sync with one another. Aula's out of breath by the time they get to ILUB-2. Her heart works double time to complete a routine task. Their lights crisscross like night traffic on a busy road. The Armstrong airlock is cast into shadow by one of the base's external lights. Aula takes deep breaths to control the pain. Sweat dribbles down her face, moistening the blood already on her skin. Her helmet reeks like pennies. It catches at the back of her throat like a wad of cotton.

An oval bobbing like a dead fish

in dark water. A face.

Two pink slicks

She clenches her jaw and concentrates on the pain. Their lights move over the regolith and catch on metal. Round cut-outs of ILUB-2 are conjured back into being.

above an open mouth. Swollen grey

fingers reaching

They stop near the airlock. Aula blinks sweat out of her eyes and focuses everything on what's in front of her. Kalashnikoff releases her arm and hops forward to open the outer hatch. It requires nearly ten pounds of force to unlock. He braces himself with feet wide apart as if he's going to tackle someone and uses both hands to pull on the lever. It swings down smoothly. He grabs the handle above the lever and slowly opens the airlock.

Kalashnikoff becomes a black silhouette in a bright circle. "After you, Reed."

She pulls away from Bauer and walks into the light.