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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Yuri hurtles down the hallway, landing in a crouch beside me, his lips pursed in a determined line. “You got a plan?” He asks, eyeing Alex and Chelenko on the other side of the hatch.

I nod.

“Tell me about the damaged suit.”

He frowns, rubbing the nape of his neck, making a show of tilting his head side to side.

“Leg torn clean through. Comms and suit controls non-responsive. No clue if internal thermostat is working, and helmet don't seal.” He looks back at me, concern in his eyes. “I wouldn’t trust on spacewalk.”

“I don’t need it for a spacewalk.”

His lips turn up in a smile, relief marring his features before he turns to me again, frowning. “What do you need it for?”

I look back to Alex, who gives me a soft smile. Her eyes heavily lidded with exhaustion. Already half clad in her damaged spacesuit.

“I’m going to come in and get you out.”

???

“So, you got a plan then?” Clayton asks, kicking this impromptu meeting off to a start.

“ Ja .” I glide back and forth the length of the module, from the food pantry, all the way over to the drink dispensers.

“Care to enlighten the rest of us?”

“The vents are working right?” I ask. Pesquet nods. “We’re going to depressurise the hallway.”

Yuri nods, stroking his bearded chin. “That would let you open the hatch to Columbus.”

Everyone looks down at the suit in the middle of our little huddle with obvious hesitation as their eyes drag over the others in the room.

“What do you need?” Clayton asks.

“There's a damaged suit in the lab. I need us to figure out how Alex can repair it with what she has on hand.”

“That's–”

“It doesn't have to be perfect, just needs to last nine minutes.”

“Nine minutes?” Matherson echoes.

I nod, “I have calculated that’s how long it will take me to get down the hallway, open the hatch, pull them out and slam it closed behind us.”

“I should go.” Luca volunteers.

“ Auf keinen Fall. I’m going.”

“ Ja , let the Kid risk his life.” Rieter chimes in.

“My plan ,” My wife. “I’m going . ”

“Fine. I’ll fix the suit. What does she have access to in there?” Rieter asks the room.

Matherson scrolls through her datapad for the lab inventory.

“Might be a few hours out of date, they were doing maintenance before this kicked off.” At my glare, she swallows and looks down again.

“Solder, soldering irons, stir friction welder, oxygen masks, sterile tubing, scalpels, clamps, dust sheets, filters, beakers, pipettes, duct tape–”

“Got it.” He shoots me a serious look as he rises. “Let’s go get your wife.”