Salvo opens the equipment lock and places the sat inside. He reseals it. Fore of this position, the crewlock lies dormant. On the walls above the panels, the signatures of every mission specialist who has traversed the airlock before now. There are some thumbprints and photos. Two EVA suits stand attached to opposite walls. From there, Salvo moves to a glove-box arrangement so he can manipulate the sat with sealed gauntlets. He nods to Shell.

“Ragtime, open equipment lock,” says Shell.

Nothing.

“Ragtime,” says Shell.

“Captain,” says Ragtime.

“Open equipment lock.”

“I am forbidden from carrying out this instruction.”

Motherfucker.

Shell manually opens the lock and Salvo pushes the minisat free. It floats away and is soon gone from view.

They return to the bridge.

“What’s the plan here?” asks Lawrence.

“We need to hold this area, and we need to hold Toruses 1 and 2,” says Shell.

“How? There are only five of us,” says Fin. “Besides, it’s tactically suspect. You want to hold one area fore, then cross a no-man’s-land, then hold another area aft. You split your forces creating an enemy sandwich. Can’t do it with five. Can’t and shouldn’t.”

“And we don’t know what’s out there,” says Joké.

“We don’t have five,” says Salvo. “We have three at the most. The captain can’t go out on field missions because she’s the only one who can even marginally talk to the Ragtime, and it doesn’t always listen. I can’t go because as important as this biological spill is, building and re-attaching the high-gain antenna is more pressing. When I’m done, I’ll need Lawrence.”

“Superb,” says Fin.

“We need data. A reconnoitre,” says Shell. “Ragtime, do we have a drone?”

“There is no drone under your command, Captain,” says Ragtime.

“I’ll go,” says Joké.

“I just got you back from becoming a meal for exotic insects,” says Larry.

“Action Governor! None of them bit me, and I wasn’t prepared. They caught me by surprise and I was more disgusted than harmed. I love what insects do for us, but I hate looking at them or having them creep all over me. I’m prepared now.” Joké is smiling. Shell figures risk-taking is in the family DNA.

It can’t be Fin. Too clumsy, too important for weapons synthesis.

The truth is, Shell would rather go herself, but Salvo’s point is valid, same as what Joké said before. If she dies or is incapacitated, nobody can command the Ragtime.

But Joké lost the EVA suit she was fitted for. Or half of it, at any rate.

“You’ll need a new suit,” says Shell.

While the others help refit Joké, Shell does a sweep of the cameras. None of them function except external hullcams, which are dull to watch since they show the Big Dumb Arm and service bots scrambling. Not exactly useful in this situation.