We’re sealed inside now, only one more door between us and space. My palms are damp. I can feel a cold trickle of sweat running down my spine.
“Opening outer door in ten seconds,” Zila reports over comms. “Secure positions. Grip the wall restraints in case of sudden movement.”
I push both my hands through the straps, anchoring myself firmly, even though there’s no real reason I should fall out of the ship and into the endless vacuum. Still, I’m not about to pass up any safety precautions right now. I mean, I trained to travel through it, sure. But there’s a big difference between being loaded into a cryopod and shot through space, and actually, you know, walking in it.
The outer door slides open, and son of a biscuit, that is Space right there.
It’s really big.
I mean, obviously it’s really big; it’s literally famous for being really big. And yet somehow, this is different from seeing it through a viewport or monitor.
This is the first time I’ve understood that I could float through space forever.
Kal is beside me, resting one gloved hand on my arm. His gaze is calm, his voice gentle. “All will be well, be’shmai. Finian and I will assist you.”
It turns out Fin equaled Ty’s perfect score on his zero-grav orienteering exam—apparently the outcome of years spent sleeping in it. He nods sagely. “I’ll be right there, Stowaway. These superhero good looks aren’t just for show.” He shoots me a grin, then crouches over the launcher, all business. “Time check, please, Scar.”
“Fifteen seconds,” she reports. “Ten, nine, eight …”
Up on the bridge, Tyler adjusts his controls, and the endless view of space is replaced by the port side of the Hadfield, a stretch of pitted metal filling our view through the open hatch. According to the displays, we’re now flying in perfect parallel with the derelict: same speed, same heading, maybe fifty meters apart.
I take a deep breath, checking my grip, making sure I’ll actually be able to unpeel my hands when I need to move. Small movements, I tell myself, repeating the words Fin and Tyler chanted at me over and over during my one brief training session. In zero gravity, a sudden jerk or lunge will send me off balance, and momentum will keep me helplessly spinning. Every motion needs to be precise and gentle. There’s no up in space. There’s no down. But one wrong move and I could end up falling for the rest of my life.
Smaaaall movements.
Scarlett is still counting down. “… three, two, one, mark.”
Fin gazes calmly through the sights and pulls the trigger on the grappler. A metal line flies out across the gap between the Zero and the Hadfield, attaching soundlessly to the larger ship right near a massive, melted gash in her hull.
“Line secure,” Fin whispers. “Transfer under way.”
“Why are you whispering?” I ask.
“I … don’t know exactly.”
“You’re not much of a warrior, are you, Finian?” Kal teases.
“Will you just get out there?” Fin hisses. “We’ve got mischief to make.”
With the smallest hint of a smile curling his lips, Kal eases himself out of the airlock, pulling himself hand over hand along the metal line between the two ships. I’m next, and I can hear my breath shaking as I exit the Zero.
Even though we’re flying at hundreds of thousands of kilometers per minute, there’s no sensation of us actually moving, and aside from my breathing, everything around me is perfectly silent. Kal, Fin, and I are tethered to each other and the main line, and we all have jet propulsion units in our suits in case something goes wrong. But still, the void around us is so sickeningly huge and black and just nothing that I almost can’t wrap my head around it. And so I stop trying, focusing on the cable in front of me instead, whispering instructions to myself:
“Right hand, left hand, right hand, left hand.”
I know Fin’s behind me, ready to help if I need it. But that doesn’t change how impossibly small I feel right now. Yet somehow, instead of being frightened, I find myself … exhilarated. Feeling so tiny makes me realize just how big what we’re all a part of is. And being out here in all this emptiness somehow makes me completely aware of everything I am and have.
These friends, who’re risking their lives for me. Our little light, shining in all this darkness. I’ve never really believed in destiny. But out in all this nothing, I’ve never been