They made Henry put on a POS, a portable oxygen system, for all of twelve hours before he entered the all-oxygen atmosphere of the EVA suit. The POS was just a face mask, an oxygen bottle, a pressure regulator and a lith hydroxide cartridge to scrub out carbon dioxide. The idea was to flush the nitrogen out of his system, to save him from the bends. After the first couple of hours it was as uncomfortable as hell.

They were, it seemed, going to have to spacewalk to reach the lander.

“Spacewalk?” Henry remembered movie images of Apollo astronauts, guys casually swimming through pressurized tunnels to their spacious and comfortable two-stage LM, with its big descent engine for landing, and smaller ascent stage to bring them home, and a cabin big enough to support two men for three days… “This isn’t Apollo, is it?”

Arkady grinned. “It has been rather necessary to — improvise certain elements.”

“How reassuring.”

“But this is how we planned to reach the Moon: a space walk from a Soyuz derivative to a lightweight lander.” Arkady shrugged. “It is not impossible.”

“But you never tested it out in practice.”

“Since our launch rockets blew up on the pad, we never got the chance. To my eternal regret. Now. You must suit up.”

Geena and Arkady began swimming briskly around the orbital compartment, pulling pieces of spacesuit from lockers. These suits were an American design and they looked bulkier and more rigid than the Russian design he’d worn to Earth orbit. There were inner coveralls of what looked like Spandex, and chunky outer suits that came in two halves, top and bottom. The halved suits swam fitfully around the cabin, as if half-alive.

Arkady helped him prepare. “These are Space Shuttle EVA suits,” he said sternly. “They are called EMUs, for extravehicular mobility units—”

“How did they know my size?”

“They don’t,” Geena said stiffly. “One size fits all.”

Arkady said, “The suit is like an independent spaceship. It will keep you alive for seven hours. Long enough to reach the surface of the Moon, all the way to the old Apollo site, if all goes well.”

Henry had to strip to his underwear, and he switched from his oxygen mask to a scuba-diver mouthpiece. Arkady helped him climb into his Spandex mesh cooling garment. It was a one-piece affair, with water pipes woven into the fabric, and air ducts fixed to the limbs. It was a struggle to squeeze his legs down through the tight neck.

When he was done, he had to hook a little rubber loop over each thumb, to stop the undergarment riding up his arms later.

When he moved, he squeaked. “I feel like the Man from Atlantis.”

Arkady looked blank. Geena didn’t react, her face white and set as she struggled with her own suit.