“Speaking of Saturn, how long would it take to get there?” Patrick asked.

“Seven hours. It is farther around the sun in its orbit at the moment.”

“Yeah, we can’t do that,” I said. “Mom and Dad will start to worry.”

“Yeah, mine too. Okay, maybe another day. How about Jupiter?”

“Directly opposite side of the sun, unfortunately,” Sheldon replied. “More like twelve hours, each way.”

I made a face. “Dammit. Well, maybe we can work something out on a weekend. It just feels so anticlimactic to head back to Earth now.”

A smile slowly spread across Patrick’s face. It was an expression that I’d come to recognize meant trouble. “Are the space suits ready?” he said.

“They are,” Sheldon replied.

I knew immediately what Patrick was not quite suggesting. I was about to protest, but Natalie came back at that moment, an odd look on her face.

“So?” Patrick said.

“It’s just a line of holes in the floor,” Natalie replied. “I guess the Gen don’t have clothes, so they can just position themselves, and, uh, let fly … But I had to basically strip down. I imagine guys will have it easier.”

I grinned. “You know, they never mention this stuff in Star Trek.”

“Or Star Wars,” Patrick said. “I’m thinking of Jabba the Hutt … ”

Nat stuck out her tongue in a gagging motion. “Ewwwww, gross.”

I smiled at her reaction, then changed the subject. “So, uh, Sheldon says the space suits are ready, and since we’re here anyway … ”

Nat’s jaw dropped. “You want to EVA? On Mars? Now?”

“Well, we’re here, now.”

Nat had always been the voice of reason, a direct counterpoint to Patrick as the group’s voice of chaos. I valued her judgment enough that if she said no, it would be no. I waited as she stared into space, frowning slightly. Finally she said, “Sheldon, how dangerous would it be?”

“As long as you don’t accidentally throw yourself over a cliff, it is no more dangerous than coming here in the first place. This is Covenant technology, not the tinfoil-coated Halloween suits your astronauts use.”

Nat shrugged. “Okay, why not?”

Sheldon directed us to the fabrication room, where three suits were laid out on a table. The proportions of each one left no doubt about whose was whose. I looked at my suit, which resembled a set of zippered overalls with a weird collar and built-in gloves and boots. A surprisingly small backpack probably provided environmental support.

“This is it?” I held up the item. “I’m not feeling confident.”

“I am devastated,” Sheldon said. “Do you want to go out or not?”

I hesitated, then looked at Nat. She shrugged and started to don the suit, stepping in through the zippered front. After a moment Patrick did the same. I finally surrendered to peer pressure and climbed into my suit.