In truth, Naomi was in a tiny spacecraft in the shape of a human. Layers of high-tech fabric, the hard fibreglass torso, the life support system in the back like she was a mountaineer climbing Everest. It still seemed so flimsy compared to the vastness of space. If their ship was named the Atalanta, she’d call her small spacecraft the Argo, even if it was just in her mind.

Hixon floated between them. Double-, triple-checking their suits, despite the inbuilt integrity sensors. She ran a hand over every join, every seam, in wordless superstition. Hixon had been the one to help them climb into the suits, adjusting everything except for the helmets.

Naomi found her calmness again, waiting for the hatch to open. She did not think about what could go wrong. She did not let herself clasp on to dizzying excitement that could make her reckless.

“You ready?” Hixon asked, the helmet in her hands.

“Yes.” On went the helmet, shutting out most sound. Hixon fastened it, double-checked it, and went to do the same to Lebedeva. Inside the helmet was a tube to suck down water, and another to breathe into on the off-chance her helmet filled with liquid. It had happened to other astronauts before, though they had survived.

The spacesuit was heavy, but microgravity kept her limbs light. Naomi held her hands out in front of her. Thick fingers, like white bananas. Soon they’d be holding the tools, grappling with the reduced motor skills, having to work as quickly as they could without being unsafe. Ten main bolts to loosen, and the Atalanta would be free.

“Can you hear me?” came Valerie’s gravelly voice through the comms of the helmet.

“Loud and clear,” Naomi replied.

“Affirmative,” said Lebedeva.

Hixon gave them a last pat on the shoulders. “Good luck.”

Hixon left, the metal door clanging shut behind her. Lebedeva and Naomi faced each other, legs treading the air like water. Naomi allowed herself a slow somersault. Lebedeva gave a rare laugh and did the same. They locked eyes, gave a little nod before clinging to the handholds.

“Open the hatch,” Valerie commanded.

Lebedeva grunted, twisting the wheel of the hatch and opening it into darkness.

Lebedeva went first, sticking her head out of the craft. The spacewalk had mentally started at different points for them. In Russia, a spacewalk began when the hatch opened. In the U.S., it was when at least the head was out of the airlock. Lebedeva snapped her tether on to the nearest handrail. One moment she was there, outlined against the black, and then she was gone. Naomi straightened her shoulders and guided herself out of the airlock.