I “drop” the burrito (it floats where I leave it) and launch myself up to the control room. The hatch from the dormitory to the lab doesn’t line up with the hatch from the lab to the control room, but there’s a diagonal line of travel that will send me through both if I do it just right.

I don’t get it right this time. I have to push off a lab wall en route. Still, I’m getting better at it.

I check the Radar panel and, sure enough, the Blip-A is approaching! Not a cylinder this time. The whole ship is coming my way. Nice and slow. Maybe they’re going for a nonthreatening kind of approach? In any event, it’s almost here.

Looks like its hull has a new addition. In that diamond part that’s as big as the whole Hail Mary, there’s a cylindrical tube sticking straight up. The hull robot is sitting next to it, looking proud of itself. I may be anthropomorphizing a tad.

The tube looks like xenonite. Patchy gray and tan with grainlike lines running its length. Hard to tell from this angle, but it also looks to be hollow.

I think I know what comes next. If they follow the plan they indicated with the model, they’ll be putting the other end of it against my airlock.

How will they attach their tunnel? My airlock does have docking capability—probably for whatever ship brought me and my crewmates to the Hail Mary—but I can’t expect Eridians to know the intricacies of a universal airlock.

The Blip-A edges ever closer. What if there’s a mistake? What if they miscalculate? What if they accidentally poke a hole in my hull? I’m all that stands between humanity and extinction. Will an alien math error doom my entire species?

I hustle to the airlock and pull on the EVA suit. I’m in there in record time. Better safe than sorry.

The Blip-A is so close now, the Telescope screen just shows a patch of mottled hull. I switch to the external cameras. My hull is littered with them. They’re all controlled from a window on the EVA panel. Always good to know where your astronaut is when giving them EVA instructions, I guess.

The tunnel is about 20 feet long. Or 7 meters. Man, being an American scientist sucks sometimes. You think in random, unpredictable units based on what situation you’re in.

The hull robot reaches out with some seriously telescoping arms. I had no idea it could do that. It extends well beyond the tunnel toward my airlock. Not creepy at all. Five ever-growing alien robot arms reaching for my front door. No cause for alarm.