The Moonwalker

Chapter 16.2

"ILUB-1, Reed. I'm declaring an emergency." Her lights travel across his torso. His clothes are tight. He's swollen and still. "Commander Shaw is ejected from module. Repeat: Shaw ejected from module."

No response.

Aula resists the urge to bend down and pick him up. It should be a simple gesture, but in an EMU it's impossible to bend at the waist. She grits her teeth and exhales harshly. Then she turns away from her commander and her base to SEV-1. It appears and disappears with each step she makes. Her lights catch on an innocuous metal pole painted in bright red letters: LESA. The Lunar Evacuation System Assembly. A quadropod pulley system courtesy of the European Space Agency. It's a long shot, but it's their only one.

She digs her boots in too late and bounces off of the SEV-1's side like a pinball. It's nearly enough to knock her flat on her ass and costs time she doesn't have to waste. She grabs hold of the SEV's railing and pulls herself upright. Then she lopes towards the LESA and takes it with both hands. Sweat stings her eyes. Her fingers ache against the resistance of her gloves. Thirst scrapes her throat. All useless distractions. She unhooks it and uses her backward momentum to turn in one hop. The LESA nearly overbalances her. She sets her feet farther apart to compensate. The pulley system is lighter than it looks, but cumbersome. Once she's steady, she lopes back to Sam.

The EMU's lights swing over him like a pendulum. He's greyer now. How long has it been? Two minutes? More? Two minutes is the precedent. That's the known limit.

Well, she didn't come to the Moon to accept what was known.

Aula unlatches the LESA. The wheeled stretcher wrapped around it slowly snaps into shape. She grabs its handle and shakes it. The stretcher doesn't bend. It's locked. She hops close to where Sam's head should be, but her lights only catch his torso. There's no resistance through the soles of her boots so she sets the LESA down directly in front of her and unlocks its legs. They jut loose, a faint shake she feels through her hands, and aims for where Sam's legs shouldn't be. The quadropod extends until it hits regolith. It's a soft thud. Feather-light resistance. She locks the legs together and pushes on them to make sure they're secure. The left leg digs in a little on one side, but it's enough. The block and tackle dangles in front of her helmet. Gently spins against the blackness like a fish hook in deep water.

It's designed to work with an astronaut in full kit. To hook onto the PLSS. There's no bulk to help close that distance now. Aula grasps the hook and uses her own weight to pull on it. It takes a few blind steps backwards to create enough slack. She then leans forward and slowly falls to the surface of the regolith. Dust gently puffs up around her and the hook disappears from view. She still clutches her hand tight, but she can't feel anything through the gloves. Some dust catches on her visor and stays there, but most of her field of view remains clear. It takes a few seconds to visualize her next move. This isn't something she's drilled for. No one has. It's all new territory. She waits until she sees the hook still clutched in her hand and starts an awkward series of push-ups that drive her back towards Sam's still body. Her view constricts at intervals. The closer she gets to him, the more keenly she feels those shadows close in.

Sweat pours down her face, finds the edges of her eyes, nose, and chin, and drop onto the visor like rain. Her lungs burn. Her body aches. Her arms feel boneless. Every push off the Moon's surface cuts into her shoulders. The EMU's sockets are slicing into her like a ham. She's pushing the limitations of the suit. Fighting a losing battle. If she keeps it up, she's going to face serious overexertion.

How many minutes?

Fuck the minutes.

Sam's swollen hand slides into view. Aula scissors her legs to steady herself and rolls onto her side. Regolith rises in clouds like the finest ash. Through the haze, his eyes are open, dusty, and nonreactive. She reaches as far as she can to hook the back of his flight suit. Pain jangles down her shoulder. The pressure of her own suit makes it nigh impossible to cross the distance. But she reaches anyway. Her lights throw untrustworthy shadows, but it has to be less than inch. It has to be. She blinks sweat out of her eyes and reaches as far past the quadropod legs as she can. Regolith suddenly shifts underneath her chest. She ends up tipping into the crater that Sam's created. Her right arm is caught at an awkward angle. The EMU's hard torso cuts in. Something pops. The pain changes. Burrows deep into her arm socket. She screams through it. Her arm drops. More pale grey dust mushrooms around her. She tries to lift it again. Feels a scalding riptide. Better to operate as if her right arm doesn't exist.