She and Lebedeva finished their first connection at the same time. Four each to go.

Naomi pulled herself to the next one, grunting. The second one seemed to take even longer. Were people down there even now prepping a rocket to launch? Was the Gateway a hub of activity, as they calculated how long it’d take them to travel to the other side of Earth’s orbit? Another capsule could attach to the hub or the spare dock on the Atalanta. Helmeted men arriving to let them know their time was up.

They moved on to their third.

Naomi and Lebedeva gave regular updates of their actions. Valerie or Hixon responded with further instructions. Naomi’s awareness zoomed in on those little bolts, focusing on nothing else but vanquishing yet another one.

“Mission finish ETA twenty minutes,” Lebedeva said.

“Good,” came Valerie’s curt reply.

Naomi kept twisting, willing her fingers to move faster. Four out of five of her main connections. Everything hurt. She swivelled her head towards Lebedeva, who was already on her fifth connection. Naomi grimaced and braced herself against the handrail, turning the torque again. And again.

“Your readings are blipping a little, Lovelace. Glove check,” Valerie said.

Naomi finished the fourth bolt. She released the wrench, letting it float near her chest. She wriggled her fingers, willing sensation back to the tips.

Space debris was sharp, and even though the craft was new, it’d be easy for a small meteorite’s impact to leave a rough patch, despite shielding. A snag could cause a tear, not deep enough to cut a finger, but enough to compromise the suit. The back of her gloves looked fine. She twisted her palms and felt a stab of adrenaline.

“You see it?” Naomi asked, staying steady. “Small tear on the left ring finger.”

“Check it’s patching,” came Valerie’s reply.

Panicking about the fact there was a hole in her suit while in space would do nothing except make her use her oxygen faster. Work the problem. Find the solution.

She stared hard at the tear, at the readout displays on the small screen on her right wrist. Slight wobbles.

Naomi’s spacesuit was brand new. No one else had worn it aside from testing. The outer layer was fitted with a new material that would theoretically heal itself. It was meant to detect the oxygen in the event of a minor puncture and release a resin to seal it.

It wasn’t the first time Naomi had thought she would die.