Chapter 29 - The Airlock Moment

After breakfast, Luca buried himself in the mission brief. Today, they’d be deploying and calibrating the infrared satellite. This was it, the start of their work. Once they launched that thing, it would map out the system, and a communications satellite would follow to extend its range and send a message back to Sol. The real beginning of their mission. No pressure, right?

The satellite launch itself was uneventful. The ship had a deployment chute for satellites and probes. It would be automated and done in minutes. They just needed to guide the ship along a parallel trajectory to keep things lined up. Honestly? It was a little anticlimactic. They were starting something that mattered, and it felt more like flipping a switch. If only the rest of the mission were this simple.

The next step, though, was manual and dangerous. They had to get out there, manually connect an F-Type Energy Cell, and confirm the satellite was responsive. The F-Type would power it for years, but someone had forgotten to do so before it launched.

On the command bridge, Luca stood behind Zoe’s console, arms crossed tight across his chest. Emily was behind him, sitting at her station as she monitored the satellite’s calibration sweep.

“This should’ve been automatic,” Luca muttered. “Why wasn’t the energy cell connected pre-launch? Wasn’t that on Danny’s checklist? Or yours?”

Emily didn’t look up. “Log says it was packed. Just not connected.”

“Fucking hell,” Luca said under his breath. “So now we’re sending two people out on EVA to fix what should’ve been done in a clean room.”

Zoe spun slightly in her seat, brow raised. “Welcome to Alpha Centauri.”

Danny and Ryan? They were suiting up for their first EVA to service the thing. First time anyone on the crew had to leave the ship, and it was happening because someone couldn’t follow a checklist. One snag in the tether and they were drifting. One tear in a suit and they were dead, all because of a battery that should’ve been connected in a clean room.

Joey was inspecting Danny’s suit while Chris handled Ryan. Joey moved fast, double-checking every seal, every tether, no wasted motion. Danny stood stock still, stiff as a mannequin, probably terrified, nervous, yeah, but trying not to show it, probably thinking about Zoe.

“Hold still, genius,” Chris muttered, yanking on Ryan’s harness. “Hard to believe someone who can calculate orbital mechanics in his head forgot a four-hundred-pound battery.”

“It wasn’t four hundred pounds in zero-g,” Ryan shot back, wincing as Chris tightened the strap. “And technically, Danny was supposed to...”

“Don’t you dare,” Danny called from across the room, his voice muffled by Joey’s fussing. “We all signed off on that checklist.”

“Yeah, well, next time maybe don’t let the lovebirds handle critical systems,” Chris said with a smirk.

Zoe cut in from the bridge intercom: “I can hear you, Chris.”

“Good. Maybe you can keep Romeo focused this time.”

Luca was pacing the bridge again. How the hell do you forget the battery for a satellite? Were they too busy making googly eyes at each other? Probably.

“This is the fun part, right?” Ryan said, his voice tinny over the comms. He winced as Chris tightened a strap over what was probably a tender spot from their fight. Serves him right.

“Fun, sure,” Luca muttered, watching over the video feed. “Just don’t screw it up, or it’s going to be a very short trip.”

Zoe shot him a glare from her workstation, her expression saying, Not helpful, Luca. She turned back to watch Danny. “You’re good, Danny. Just stick to the routine.”

Out there, they’d look like they were barely moving, just floating alongside the satellite. But they’d be hurtling through space at thousands of kilometers per second. One mistake and Isaac Newton would handle the rest. No retries, no do-overs.

Luca was already running contingencies. That was his job, especially now that he knew his crew was capable of monumental fuck-ups.

Luca cleared his throat, drawing their attention. “Alright. Let’s get this done.”

Danny and Ryan were encased in their hardened EVA suits, which made them look like oversized action figures. They raised the pants to their waist, lowered the top portion from the winch, and sealed it. The airlock anteroom was cramped with the suits on, barely enough elbow room to scratch your nose.

Once sealed, they turned on their oxygen supply, making sure everything was working. Chris clipped the thick tether to Ryan’s harness, his hands moving mechanically through the familiar motions.

On the bridge, Luca watched through the airlock’s internal camera as the door sealed shut, cutting Ryan and Danny off from the rest of the ship. Ryan smiled and waved at the camera like he was on vacation. Turning together to face the exterior hatch, he and Danny hit the button, and the air vanished. The exterior door opened to nothing.

This was it. They were actually doing it. And if they found another way to screw it up, that conversation was going to be very short and very loud.

“You think they’ll be ok?” Zoe asked from her station, her voice low as she monitored their trajectory.

Emily’s hand found his back. He appreciated the gesture. God, he loved her, but part of him tensed under her palm. She should have caught this. As his XO, double-checking Danny’s pre-launch checklist was her responsibility. He’d been buried in engineering specs, trusting her to handle the operational details.

“They’ll be fine,” Luca said. In sims, they’d nailed this. They’d also nailed putting in the battery. “They’ve done this before,” he added, though the irony wasn’t lost on him.

Zoe nodded, taking a deep breath as she fine-tuned their parallel course. She knew the risks as well as he did. They all did, and that was part of the problem. Why did they always have to do things the hard way?

Luca and Emily were monitoring their every move from the bridge while Joey tracked their vitals. Joey’s face said everything, the same look he got every time Danny did something dangerous.

Danny and Ryan launched themselves from the airlock, kicking off into the void.

“Showoffs,” Luca muttered, watching them drift into the void like they hadn’t just caused a mission-wide headache. Their positioning jets fired as they started heading for the satellite. They looked impossibly small against all that nothing.

“Forty meters… thirty meters… slow down a bit… twenty meters… Danny, slow down… ten meters… you’re almost there,” Emily called out steadily over the intercom.

The procedure had locked into her hard enough for Luca to hear it, smooth, immediate, every call already loaded before she opened her mouth. Her eyes had gone fixed, somewhere past the screen, like she was reading numbers only she could see. Her voice dropped into a cadence that sounded like Emily knowing. She called spacing and correction windows like the whole EVA lived in one clean track inside her head. She’d burned an ability. Had to have.

Luca paced behind her station. “They’re moving too fast.”

“They’re moving fine,” Emily said without looking up. “Your pacing, however, is making me seasick.”

“I’m not pacing.”

“You’ve worn a groove in the deck plating.” She glanced at Zoe. “Back me up here.”

Zoe kept her eyes on her console. “Luca, with all due respect, you’re making me nervous, and I’m trying to keep us parallel.”

“See?” Emily kept her eyes on her console, adjusting something. “Danny, you’re doing great. Ignore the heavy breathing from the bridge.”

“That’s not... I’m not breathing heavily.”

“Luca.” Emily finally turned to look at him. “They’ve got this. Sit down before you hyperventilate.”

He stared at her for a moment, and something in his expression made her pause. “You told me to stop micromanaging.”

Emily’s smile faltered slightly. “Luca...”

“You said I needed to trust you to handle the operational details.”

“I know.” Her voice was quieter now. “I fucked up. I should have caught it.”

Luca watched the telemetry feeds from the viewport, arms crossed.

Zoe sat still at her station, switching between the EVA footage and her navigation display. She held herself so still she might not have been breathing. One small course correction and the satellite would drift away from them, pulling Danny and Ryan against the hull.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ryan came through. “We’re here.” His breathing came hard.

“Alright,” Emily replied, leaning over her console. “We’re going to do this slowly and take our time. No rushing.”

Hurry up.

Danny and Ryan tethered themselves to the satellite, their figures bobbing in the zero-g as they methodically started to install the F-Type energy cell. Each movement was deliberate, every tool change careful and slow. Luca’s fingers tapped restlessly against the viewport as he fought the urge to chime in over the comms.

Behind him, he could hear Zoe’s quiet, controlled breathing. She was watching Danny’s every move, not blinking.

After what felt like hours, Ryan came through. “The battery’s in place.”

“About time,” Chris muttered from his station. “Ryan, you looked great out there. I almost missed you.”

“Chris,” Joey warned, his eyes glued to Danny’s vital signs.

Emily leaned forward. “Alright, hold tight while we test the connections. Don’t unhook yet. And Chris? Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Luca almost smiled despite himself, the anger crumbling at the edges.

Joey broke in. “Danny, your heart rate’s spiking. You need to slow your breathing down, okay? In for four, out for four.”

“I’m fine, Joey,” Danny’s voice came back strained.

“Yeah, well, your vitals say otherwise. Do the breathing thing or I’m pulling you back in.”

“You can’t!”

“Watch me, little brother.”

Zoe exhaled audibly, her posture relaxing slightly as the satellite’s systems began to respond to Emily’s commands. The diagnostic data streamed across the screens, and Emily’s whole face lit up as the results populated.

“Looks like it’s working perfectly,” she announced, grinning.

Still grinning, she swayed on her feet.

It was small, barely more than a hitch in her balance, but Luca caught it because he was already watching her. He got a hand around her waist before she could tip into the console.

“You okay?”

Emily braced a hand on the station and let out one slow breath. “Yeah. Got dizzy for a second.”

Luca stared at her. “From what?”

She looked up at him, mouth twitching. “Operational Clarity. It’s a professional ability.”

That landed half a second late, and when it did, he barked out a laugh that came out sharper than he meant it to. “Oh, now we’re doing that?”

“Apparently.”

“You gave me grief about my own abilities.”

Emily grinned, a little pale around the edges but still very much Emily. “And I was right. You get dramatic about it.”

Thank god for small mercies.

“Hell yeah,” Ryan muttered over the comms, his tone lighter now. Danny let out a small laugh, the tension in his voice finally easing.

“Great work, guys!” Emily exclaimed. “Now, make your way back to the ship. Nice and steady.”

On the screen, the two figures started back, their positioning jets firing in short bursts. Nobody on the bridge said a word, not one joke, not one comment, nothing like their usual noise. The tension held until the airlock hissed closed behind them.

The feed cut off. Indicator lights on the airlock panel turned green. Zoe leaned back in her chair and let out a long breath. “They’re back.” Her shoulders dropped a few centimeters.

Ryan’s voice came through one last time: “So... who’s buying the first round when we get back?”

“You are,” Chris called out. “Hazard pay for making us all sweat.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Danny said, and Luca could hear the grin in his voice.

Zoe finally allowed herself to laugh. “God, you’re all idiots.”

Luca exhaled. “Let’s head down and meet them.”

“You gonna yell at them?” Emily asked, standing and stretching.

“Probably.”

“Good. They deserve it.” She paused, then added quietly, “So do I.”

That surprised him.

“The checklist was my responsibility. You were buried in engineering specs because I told you to delegate.” She met his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Luca stared at her for a long moment, his jaw working as he tried to hold onto his anger. But the way she looked at him, head tilted, so darn cute even when she was sorry, made his chest tighten in a different way.

“You’re making it really hard to stay mad at you,” he said finally, his voice soft.

Emily’s lips quirked up in a small smile. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Terrible thing,” he muttered, but he was fighting a smile of his own. “Absolutely terrible for ship discipline.”

“Well,” she said, stepping closer, “maybe we can discuss my disciplinary action later.”

And just like that, the anger was gone. “Christ, Emily. You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Better than a forgotten battery,” she said with a grin.

Luca turned from the viewport. He was not about to examine what his face was doing right now. “Come on. Let’s go give them hell.”

The science lab was chaos, and it was too damn loud. Danny was about to lose his mind. Luca could see the vein popping out on his neck. He shifted in his seat, jaw tight, glasses askew, as the rest of the crew crowded around the consoles.

“Would you people stop breathing on my screens?” he muttered, swatting at Ryan’s hand as it hovered near one of the displays.

Ryan, who was grinning, pulled back. “Relax, man. I’m not touching anything. Yet.”

Luca stood by the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. He didn’t need to be in the lab, but there was no way he’d miss this. The first scan data from their deployed satellite was coming through, and everyone was itching for a glimpse of the Alpha Centauri system. What would they find?

Finally, numbers began to flicker across the screen.