Nickel by Steve Eckroad

“I’ll flip with you for who gets to do the spacewalk.” Jonar affected nonchalance as he and Mirth entered the lift labeled South Maintenance Bay #14. Mirth was planet-born. She didn’t even notice the oddity of such terrestrial words as ‘South’ stenciled on the passageways and lifts of a rotating space station. Jonar wondered if she had somehow converted her picture of the complex decks, lifts, and corridors of the giant, wheel-shaped stargate into Cartesian coordinates in her mind. To the station-born, like himself, such terms were complete nonsense. The designers of the Pleiades SuperTelpher should have used terms like out/in and spinward/anti-spinward. So obvious for something spinning in space.

“Huh?” Mirth looked up from her tablet where she was furiously directing her Avatar to beat Solo to the Emerald Cave where the spice minerals were found. She mentally gestured ‘Pause’ to the VR and asked, “What do you mean, flip with me? If you think that’s a new way to get what you want I’m not going for it. You might as well give up, Jonar.” She turned back to her tablet, wishing she had the implant version of the game so she wouldn’t have to hold something. But it was expensive, and she was still paying off her school loan.

“Hey, chill, baby…”

“And don’t use that term with me, either.”

“Okay, okay. Flip is an old term invented centuries ago on Earth for tossing a coin to see who wins, in this case who gets to stay out of the vacuum today.”

That got Mirth’s attention because she liked history and that was one thing she liked about Jonar. He was handsome, too, but she forced herself to ignore that. Having grown up on a planet, she had difficulty relating to people who grew up on stations. In her social circle dating stationers wasn’t done. But Jonar was a wealth of knowledge on ancient history. In a friendlier tone she asked, “What is a coin?” Expecting a lengthy description she was surprised when he dug into a pocket in his jumpsuit and pulled out a small, flat, silvery disc. She took it gingerly from his hand. Turning it over and over she saw that there were inscriptions of some kind on each side.

“A coin used to be a unit of money. This is called a nickel.”

“Okay… So how does this flip game work? And, where did you get this thing, anyway?” She wondered if she could talk him into giving her the coin, to add to her collection of odd things. And she didn’t really need to engage in some game to decide who got to stay in the Maintenance Bay while the other had to do the EVA.

The two of them had been assigned the dangerous task of replacing the cryocooler on a major superconducting power conduit for one of the CnP-QPT power arrays that fanned out from the axis of the Pleiades SuperTelpher like petals in a lotus blossom. Non-telepaths could do the job but at a significantly greater risk. Being telepathically linked, Jonar and Mirth could help each other with the delicate task in a way that those without their gift couldn’t. It wasn’t the usual task for Telpher-trained telepaths. They were the biophysical half of the immense human/machine stargates that teleported spacecraft to distant regions of space. Without telepaths no ships could transit through the SuperTelpher. But Pleiades was down because of the power outage so they got scut work. Scut in their opinion anyway.

The failure of a cryocooler had caused a downstream failure in the Cryogenic Fluid Management System. The CFMS failure had cascaded into a progressive systems failure throughout the Station. It was a major embarrassment, for sure, but not one that telepaths had to worry about. Just go out in the vacuum and replace the offending cryo-unit and Station Maintenance would tend to the rest. Those were their orders. And it wasn’t the first time they’d done something like this. Pleiades, Galacticon’s first entry into the SuperTelpher market, had major birthing problems.

Jonar explained, “Here’s how the coin flip works. The sides of the coin are different. One side is called Heads, and the other side is called Tails. When it lands on the deck after I flip it either Heads or Tails will be facing up. While the coin is in the air one of us calls which side will be up when it lands. It’s chance, see? If that side faces up the caller is the winner. I’ll even be magnanimous and let you be the caller. And if I win… Tell you what. I’ll give you the nickel as a consolation prize.” Mirth perceived sincere generosity in Jonar’s offer. “So, I’m going to flip it, and you call which side will be up. Ready?”

“No, no. Tell me why one side is called a Tail and the other side a Head?”

“Mirth! Just play the game with me. It doesn’t matter why the sides are named as they are.” The lift was drawing close to the Bay level and once they were there she would inveigle him into being the one going EVA. He always lost to her winsome blue eyes. Jonar hated EVA, though in fact he was far better at it than she was. Which had been his undoing after telling her that growing up on a space station he was familiar with the ways of spacecraft. Still, being good at it didn’t mean he liked it. That horrible black emptiness always got to him.

“Oh! So you don’t know why those two sides got the names they have? That’s it, isn’t it?” She half suspected he did know but teasing him was fun. She could drag him into a long explanation on how the coin faces got named and by that time they’d be in the Bay and would have to choose who was going out. She also suspected he might have some secret about this flip game that would give him an advantage, but she wouldn’t read his mind to find out without consent. Telepaths were polite that way. So it’s either try this game or sweet-talk him when we get to the Bay.

Jonar groaned. “Gods Mirth, you don’t have to know that to do the flip thing. Besides, you know I know the answer and you’re just trying to delay the inevitable.”

Mirth smiled sweetly, “And what’s the inevitable, Jonar?” She slipped her game pad into her jumpsuit pocket and looked him in the eye. “Okay, if you tell me why the faces are named and I believe you, then I’ll play the flip game with you.” Now that she’d got him to acknowledge her ability to persuade she decided it would be okay to give in to him. Besides, she saw that there was a fifty-fifty chance she would win the flip, and if not she always won the charm game. On the other hand, she wanted the nickel. So losing the flip game might not be so bad.

The lift was slowing. Holding the coin between thumb and forefinger, Jonar said quickly, “See, on this side is the head of a guy named Jefferson so that side is Heads, and the other side is Tails.” He started to flip it.

“Wait, wait, wait. You didn’t show me the Tails. What does it look like?” I bet that’s where the trick is, though I don’t see how. If both sides have a head and I call ‘heads’ I’ll win. Maybe he thinks there is a fifty-fifty chance I’ll call ‘tails’ and he’s willing to risk it.

Jonar sighed, “Okay, here’s the other side.”

She looked closely. “That’s no tail. It’s some kind of big animal and I can’t see any tail on it.”

“The animal is a buffalo, Mirth. An extinct species from old Earth. And it does have a tail, just a small one that you can’t see. So can I flip now?” The elevator drew to a halt.

Mirth affected a resigned tone, “Okay, I guess you’ve convinced me. So flip.” She called tails. The nickel hit the floor of the lift just as the door was sliding open. It rolled toward the gap between the lift and the outside deck, stopping just shy of it.

They both went down on their knees to see what face showed. It was the buffalo.

Mirth patted him on the shoulder as they both got up and walked into the passage to the Bay. In a generous tone she said, “It’s alright, Jonar. Next time when there’s a choice, I’ll play the flip game with you.”

“Here,” he said with a wry grin, handing her the nickel, “Keep this for practice flipping.”

Like all Maintenance Bays, MB14 had an elaborate control console, a tool cabinet, an array of tethers and caribiners, and four EVA suits. Mirth was busy at the console while Jonar stripped to his skin, slipped into a synthetic cotton under sheath, and then levered himself into the vacuum suit. With all but his helmet on he began assembling the tools and replacement parts he’d need. Mirth stripped, after ensuring his back was turned, and performed the same suiting procedure. Safety Regs required her to be partially suited while he was outside in case she had to go out in an emergency to help him. They’d done this routine many times, with trainers watching and practicing by themselves. They were good at it and all business now. You didn’t fool around with things that meant the difference between life and death.

“Cross-check. Ready, Mirth?” She nodded yes and he began checking all the clamps and connections on her suit. He checked the readiness of her helmet if she should need it. “You check out. Now me.” Mirth performed the same check and then helped him put on his helmet. He switched on his internal comm and spoke, “Radio check, do you copy?”

Mirth gave him a thumbs up and said, “Copy.”

Then they spoke in mind speech, the first they’d done so this day. This was how the key communication took place. The radio was for emergencies only. Since no one else was privy to their words, Mirth and Jonar could be a little more casual. ~Hey, Mirth. Ready to do this fun job? Ha, ha!

~I’m ready. You be safe Jonar. Despite her upbringing she felt a fondness for her partner, if not the desire for more intimate contact he wished she had.

Jonar cycled the airlock, which was always kept at vacuum in case personnel needed to get back inside the Station quickly. This meant there were extra minutes for a rescuer to get out in space but that wasn’t thought to be as likely an occurrence. When the airlock gauges read one atmosphere Jonar opened the hatch, stepped in and latched it closed. He performed final systems check on his communications and other gear, then began cycling the lock. It took five minutes to evacuate. He opened the outer hatch, stepped to the lip and tethered himself to a rail immediately outside. He readied himself for no gravity, then with a gentle push he floated out into the void. As always, he was careful to not stare long into the blackness.

The repair was tricky, involving a tight sequence of actions between the console that Mirth attended and Jonar’s procedure as he disengaged fiberoptic and electrical metering and control connections, operated shutoff valves, released the helium-three gas pressure in the cryo cooler lines, and finally disconnected the lines and freed the failed unit itself. On the job the two partners kept their close telepathic union free of all but essential remarks. Mirth and Jonar were what were known as matched-pair telepaths, having been selected for each other out of a pool of applicants. That meant that not only could they speak mentally to each other, they could directly sense everything the other saw and felt. Some paired telepaths said they lost individual identity during the mental linkage. Mirth and Jonar were probably among those who experienced that, but they never spoke of it to each other when not in mental contact, lest they jinx the mental union. That union was especially important when they were performing EVA repair missions like this one.

Mirth saw, felt, and heard what Jonar saw, felt and heard. She experienced him executing each action that she directed, while she operated switches and watched meters on her console. It was like she was performing the out-in-space actions herself. That was the reason matched-pair telepaths were so good at these kinds of repairs. She heard his breathing and even felt his skinsuit rub against the inside of the vacuum suit. As a professional, she of course ignored those sensations. But they were there and sometimes it gave her the creeps.

Suddenly a loud bang echoed inside her head, and she saw her blood and spittle on her faceplate. No, it was Jonar’s faceplate. A blackness descended upon her mind, breaking the telepathic connection. Mirth heard screaming, wondered where it came from until she realized it was herself.

Then her training kicked in and Mirth settled in moments into a calm efficiency. She looked immediately to the view screens of the various external scanners and spotted Jonar suspended at the end of a tether. He was clearly unconscious because there was neither mental nor radio contact with him. She looked at his biometric readings on the console and almost succumbed to another scream. His oxygen tank line had either ruptured or become disconnected in the explosion. The only air he had was that in his suit. A rescue shuttle wouldn’t reach him in time. Worse, there was a small leak in his suit, a hairline crack in the helmet faceplate. Something had hit it with enough force to crack the fortified aluminum oxynitride window. Despite her training, Mirth lamented to herself, He’s going to die. I can’t get to him in time. God, Jonar, don’t die on me!

Mirth toggled an emergency EVA alarm, put on her helmet and began cycling the airlock to equalize the pressure so she could get out there. But there’s no time for the rescue shuttle to undock and get here. He’ll be dead by then! She pushed away the fearful thoughts. They had practiced things like this, but the real thing was absolutely nothing like practice. Adrenaline poured into her veins as fast as air poured into the airlock. That her panic hadn’t reduced her to helplessness was, she later realized, nothing short of a miracle. Somehow, calmly and carefully, she entered the airlock, drained it of air, opened the outer hatch, fastened a tether, and propelled herself as quickly and safely as possible to Jonar. His tether was secured at the cryo assembly he’d been working on. Thank God his tether held. Mirth saw immediately what happened. The entire cryo assembly had blown away from the array. It must have hit his face plate. Recalling the last command sequence they had executed she guessed that a high-pressure helium line had ruptured just as Jonar released the failed cooler’s fasteners, propelling it like a missile toward his face. A freak accident. She wanted to blame herself for no apparent reason.

Working silently and quickly, Mirth pulled Jonar’s tether to bring him to her. She couldn’t see into the silvered face plate, couldn’t see his condition. ~Jonar, are you there? Can you hear me? No mental answer. She tried suit comms with the same negative result. I’ve just got to hope he’s still breathing, and I can get him back to the Station in time. Working several actions at once, she tethered him to herself, pulled out a tube of Quikseal, smeared it on the faceplate crack, and established a ‘Siamese Twin’ connection between his suit airline and her own. All things they had practiced. She never dreamed she’d ever need them in real life. Then she began the excruciating, hand-over-hand crawl back to the airlock, a hundred meters distant. With no gravity his weight was no problem, but his mass was. Newton’s First Law. And Third Law, which was worse. She kept getting tangled in her own safety tether and the one that held him close to her. She’d always had trouble with the so-called tether treks.

Just as she reached the air lock the rescue shuttle arrived. It was quicker to put Jonar into the shuttle instead of going through the lock. Plus, there were EMTs inside the shuttle who would know what to do for him. They took Jonar away from her. She wanted to go with him but the EMTs told her no. They told her to return to the Station after asking if she was okay. She said yes. They told her to report to Sick Bay anyway. She watched in silence as the shuttle sped off, said a prayer for Jonar, and numbly entered the Maintenance Bay airlock.

The next day Mirth went to the Sick Bay to see Jonar. She worried he’d been permanently injured and wished fervently he were whole again.

Jonar was in an auto-doc cabinet. He was unconscious but would survive, according to the doctor on call. He read from a chart, “Minor concussion when his head slammed into the faceplate when the whatever-it-was hit it from outside. Broken nose and facial lacerations—they just don’t make those suits safe enough. Severe hypoxia, amazing that there is no apparent brain disfunction. That’s it. He’ll survive.” The doctor’s voice was flat, almost bored. He looked up into Mirth’s anxious face. “Boyfriend?”

“No… Uh, maybe…” Whatever happened yesterday changed things between us. She lovingly fingered the nickel in her pocket.

Steve Eckroad

Image: A pile of nickels showing heads and tails by PublicDomainPictures from Pixabay