“We have four rocks we can check from this spot before we have to move the ship again,” Seth said. “You and I will be humping the deep radar rig around next shift. Tenn will be controller.”

Ivan rolled his eyes in at the thought of working another shift with Davies. The man had decided for some reason that sprout wasn’t an adequately demeaning nickname, and had spent the last several weeks trying to come up with a new one, many of his suggestions scatological in nature. Ivan assumed it had to be out of boredom and stress, because there was just no reason for that level of antagonism. Unless it was his refusal to join the interminable poker games.

He checked the time on the wall display. “Guess I’d better go get ready. Meet you at the lock.” Ivan nodded to Seth and headed for his quarters.

Crew quarters were located in the hab ring. The ship schematics referred to them as staterooms, but no one who saw one would ever think to use that word. The rooms were about the size of a first-class double-bunk cabin from the age of passenger trains. Upper and lower single bunkbeds could be folded into the wall to make room for a bench seat. The fold-out table could accommodate two people, as long as they liked each other. Storage under the seat was adequate for the basic necessities appropriate to crew. A small sink and mirror inset into the wall completed the accommodations. Toilets and showers, however, were in a common area central to the crew quarters.

Ivan was pretty sure the captain and senior offices rated something larger, but didn’t expect to ever get a chance to confirm his theory.

A quick clean-up with a sponge ensured that he wouldn’t smell up a space suit too badly. Then into the standard shipboard outfit, and it was off to the main airlock.

* * *

Seth and Tenn stood waiting, both having already donned their suits. Ivan never failed to be impressed at how quickly the veterans could handle things that still made him feel like a thumb-fingered idiot.

He dressed as quickly as he could, consistent with safety, then submitted to inspection.

“All good,” Tenn said. “You’ll make spaceman, yet.”

Ivan glanced at him, uncertain. For Tenn, that was so mild a jibe as to almost qualify as a compliment.

They piled into the airlock and Tenn activated the cycle. Ivan could feel the tension of the suit fabric as the air pressure dropped to zero and his flesh tried to expand. Like the jet packs, the suits were a significant improvement over the walking tombs used during the dawn of space travel. Intelligent environmental controls, electro-contractile materials, and electrostatic/magnetic shielding made the modern spacewalk, if not actually safe, at least tolerably routine.