Lifeline

Ramis tried to brush her question aside. He blinked his eyes again. “I must have gotten mixed up and subtracted the two-hour difference instead of adding it. I was sleeping, for the first time in days, but I planned to wake up before you arrived. I still needed some time to … to get something.”

He looked at her with his dark eyes, hesitating. “I was not certain it would be you. It could have been one of the other Soviets, or someone else that Brahms sent over …” His voice trailed off.

On an impulse, Karen wanted to hug him, but in the monstrous padded suit that would have been more comical than poignant. “The important thing is that I’m here.” She threw a glance at his loose, comfortable clothes. His space suit was conspicuously absent. “Where are you staying?”

“I have found several private chambers.”

“Sounds like a good start.” Karen handed him the helmet to carry. “Lead on, Ramis.” She hooked her belongings on the crook of her arm.

Ramis took her through several cubicles and down to a second deck. Karen felt as if she were in a three-dimensional maze. “You will learn your way around quickly,” said Ramis. “It is a monotonous arrangement.”

At first the station’s layout confused her, but after only a few minutes, she discovered a pattern: the three decks were all arranged identically, but offset from the decks above them. An octagonal pattern of compartments surrounded each staircase, holding emergency supplies of air, food, and water. One could travel straight up or down the decks if needed, but the main thoroughfares were staggered to break the monotony.

As they walked, she noted few displays of artwork or any kind of decor. In recreation areas, she saw murals depicting larger-than-life characters with a central hero, usually standing in a field or a city, looking toward the stars.

Ramis stopped before a row of eight cabins with doors open. Karen dumped her helmet and satchel onto the floor. The rooms were not all clustered together; several blank spaces separated the doors at random intervals. Looking closely at the bulkhead, Karen ran her hand along a hairline seam.

“There are doors all along here. I wonder why some of them are closed?”

Ramis turned away. “Most of them were open, or at least activated, when I arrived. They close behind you after you leave the room.”

“And how do you open them again?”

“That I do not know,” Ramis said slowly. “I have tried to get back inside.”

“I see.” Karen suppressed a smile. She lounged back against the polished bulkhead and crossed her arms. Ramis stared back, unblinking. She nodded to the row of closed doors. “If they used to be all open, then I bet you did some experimenting, trying to find out how to open them.”

Ramis nodded.

Karen pushed away from the wall. “And I suppose you slept in one of these last night?” She could not stop her smile from growing. “And I suppose you took your helmet and suit with you. It’s in one of these rooms, and now you can’t get the door open again?”

Ramis flushed and nodded stiffly. No wonder he didn’t meet me outside, she thought. Though the time lag on the chronometers had distracted her for a while, he was obviously too abashed at losing face, and had needed to make up an excuse that would not leave him appearing stupid. Losing his helmet because he couldn’t get the door open again! He probably thought he’d be stuck here forever.

Already, being away from Orbitech 1 had improved her mood. The situation wasn’t funny, but if worse came to worst, they could always smash the door in with a Soviet forklift.

“Why don’t you help me out of this suit so I can move like a human being again? We’ll leave it right here in the hall. Then take me to the control room. That’s where you kept in communication with Orbitech 1, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I will show you.”

Over the next fifteen minutes, she struggled with the fastenings and seals of her suit. Ramis seemed patient and enjoyed being with her; they chatted about meaningless things. She realized he must have been terribly lonely.

The helmet and harness lay on the floor. Karen squirmed out of the bulky protective suit and stood hunched over in her cotton jumpsuit, breathing hard. She wiped a palm across her forehead and stared at the sweat glinting off the dim corridor lights.

“How can construction engineers live in those things?”

Ramis furrowed his eyebrows. “All the body functions are taken care of. You know how to activate the glucose tablet dispenser? That would give you energy. Vitamin supplements can keep you going for several shifts.”

Karen shook her head. “That’s not really what I meant. Right now I’m still a little dizzy from all that anti-rad junk I had to take.”