III. Months

“Any orders from Commander Jamison?” Hendrix asked.

Lester was in the process of forcing his jumpsuit on over his clothes. “No word. We'll stick to routine maintenance this shift.”

“In that case, you might want to put on a helmet.”

Lester broke his preoccupation with the zipper of his jumpsuit to see Hendrix gesture lifelessly to the pinned calendar on the wall. Today was marked for the once-monthly solar-realignment.

“Me?”

He couldn't believe it. It seemed like Hendrix had been gunning to piss him off all shift. He had never seen the man so uncoordinated and jumpy. Hendrix had already been late showing up to the morning shift, and then he'd improperly tightened the ACM valve during the morning's Atmosphere Inspection (which Lester had only noticed because he could actually hear the leaking air). Had Nina got Hendrix hooked on something? At this point, with the afternoon shift just beginning, Lester wanted to be anywhere except alone with Hendrix.

He threw up his hands. “No no no. Solar alignment is your duty, Hendrix. Not mine. Hell, you must have heard about Nina passing another eval this morning. When she's cleared for her job, she'll expect you to know how to do yours.”

Through thick lenses, Hendrix's bulging eyes met his own.

“Aw come on Lester, just go align the solars would you.” He scratched behind his head. “I'm too worked up. My patch is eating me alive.”

Lester almost growled from frustration.

Spacewalks were technically routine, but they were still stressful, and it was always the sinking stomach and the wide eyes before the walk that made Lester almost wish for a scar in his head like Hendrix's. He snatched gloves from the rack by the open inner airlock but stopped before sealing them to his jumpsuit. He hated to do so, but he needed to report Hendrix's condition to Command. He motioned on the screen of his sleeve. No connection.

“Uhh.” He dropped the gloves. “Hendrix, Jesus! We don't have connection to Belka! How in the—”