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usually just
after I have closed the outer door of the airlock and the strict
disciplines of procedure have eased slightly. You turn and stare
out into the stars, into the unfathomable endlessness of it, and
your heart misses a beat. It is like stepping into God's stare. It
leaves a timeless impression.
    I briefly looked over in the direction of
the shower and finished my drink. I debated sleep or shower. Sleep
was winning. A gentle haze of drowsiness began to seep into my
fractured mind. My hands rested on my chest with the empty cup
tipped sideways in them. My head rolled involuntarily to the left
in the caress of the pillow-cushion.
    The door chime went ‘tong’.
    "Yes?"
    When the gray doors hissed open, I couldn't
help the double take. From 'blank stare' to 'can't be' to 'damn it
is' to 'my god, how can it be'. Maybe that's a double-double take.
Frank Parker stood out in the corridor with a pinched expression
and evasive eyes. He wore a fresh pair of light blue coveralls,
unzipped at the top with a dark blue turtle neck underneath. He
tapped nervously with his right hand at the side of his leg. He
looked like a man standing on an ant hill.
    "Frank, what the hell are you doing out of
sick-bay?"
    He started to answer, then suddenly stopped,
then started again, and stopped again.
    I straightened up and leaned back against
the wall, still holding the empty plastic cup. "Come in here and
shut the door, for Christ's sake."
    He started to speak and stopped again. He
forced himself in. The double doors swished shut behind him.
    "What are you doing out of sick-bay. How'd
you get past the staff?"
    "I'm sorry, Adrian. I shouldn't be here.
It's late. It's been a long god-damned day. I'll just go and come
back at some better time."
    "Sit down."
    He began to pace back and forth in front of
me in the small space of my cabin. He was having trouble finding
words. "I don't get it, Adrian. I've gone over it a hundred times
in my head. Nothing makes any sense at all. It was a fuck-up, pure
and simple. It's got me all corrupted in the head. I can't sort it
out. What the hell happened?"
    "You tell me."
    "I forgot to scan that container. How could
I do that? If I had, they say it would've measured intense radiant
energy. All kinds of unknowns. I wouldn't have opened it. It was
hands off, anyway. What the hell was I thinking? I don't break EVA
rules. I never break EVA rules. I know better."
    "Sounds to me like you know what
happened."
    He looked at me defensively, but guilt gave
way to regret. "Jesus, I caused a suit tear. It's a miracle she's
still alive. I just thought it should start with you, I mean, the
long apology. The one that lasts a lifetime. You'll probably never
want to work with me again."
    "Well, maybe I would now."
    He looked at me as though it was a cruel
remark. "What are you saying?"
    "I'm saying you'll never make those same
mistakes again. There's nothing like cutting it close to make the
soul remember, is there."
    A first glimmer of gratitude slipped from
the windows in his eyes. He tried to hide it with words. "How will
I ever make this right?"
    "Well, for me personally there is one thing
you can do right this moment."
    "Name it."
    "Go into the bathroom and get two of those
aggravating little plastic cups and half-fill them with cold
water."
    He didn't understand, but he did it anyway.
When he returned, he quickly spied the bottle in my hand and almost
withdrew at the thought of breaking still another rule. He held the
cups out for me to fill. With a questioning look for approval he
sat down and faced me. We sipped and stared at each other.
    "Now tell me how you managed to get out of
sick bay without them seeing you."
    "Oh yeah, that's another thing. Talk about
insult on injury. You know what they said? They said I
hyperventilated. That's it... That's all. No injuries at all. Saw
spots for about three hours. They did every optical brain scan in
the book. Found nothing. That fucking Bell Standard suit got the
shit beat out