Artemis

“Distance?” he asked.

I checked my screen. “Two point four meters.” Proximity readouts are a frilly feature for cars on Earth, but critically important for lunar rovers. Crashing your pressure vessel into things is bad. It can lead to unscheduled dying.

Satisfied, Dale engaged the physical brake. “All right. Ready to suit up?”

“Yup.”

We climbed out of our chairs and crawled to the rear of the vessel.

We both stripped down to our underwear. (What? I’m supposed to be demure around the gay guy?) Then we put on our coolant garments. The daylight outside could boil water—EVA suits need central cooling.

Next came the pressure suits themselves. I helped him into his and he helped me into mine. Finally, we did pressure tests, tank tests, readout tests, and a bunch of other shit.

Once all the checks were done, we prepared to egress.

The rover airlock could fit two, though it was snug. We squeezed in and sealed the hatch.

“Ready for depress?” Dale asked via the radio.

“Pretty depressed, yeah,” I said.

“Don’t joke around. Not with airlock procedures.”

“Sheesh, you really suck the air out of the room, you know that?”

“Jazz!”

“Copy, ready for decompression.”

He turned a crank. Air hissed from the chamber to the vacuum outside. No need for a high-tech pump system. It’s not like oxygen was in short supply; thanks to smelting, Artemis had so much we didn’t know what to do with it all….

For the moment, anyway (evil sardonic laugh).

He spun the handle, pushed the door open, and stepped out. I followed.

He climbed the ladder to the rover’s roof and unhitched the rigging. I went to the other side and did the same. Then, together, we lowered the modified air shelter to the ground.

Weighing in at five hundred kilograms, it took both of us to make sure it came down gently.

“Try to keep dust off the skirt,” I said.

“Copy.”

Dad had done a number on the shelter. You could hardly recognize it. It had a large hole in the rear with a half-meter-wide aluminum skirt all around it. It looked like an engine bell. Some might say putting a huge hole in a pressure vessel is a bad idea. I have no rebuttal.

I clambered back up to the rover’s roof and collected my welding gear. “Ready to receive?”

He positioned himself below me and held up his arms. “Ready.”

I handed him the tanks, torches, tool belt, and other accessories I’d need for the job. He placed each on the ground. Finally, I pulled a huge bag out of its dedicated container.

“Here comes the inflatable tunnel,” I said. I shoved it off the roof.

He caught it and laid it on the ground.

I hopped off the roof and landed next to him.

“You shouldn’t jump down that far,” he said.