Chương 239: 94. Maintenance Assessment 2

When the outer airlock door opened, I still held my breath for a beat on instinct. I know there's no wind out there. I know nothing from outside comes through directly. It doesn't matter. When that black finally opens up in front of you for real, something in your spine still goes hollow. Space isn't quiet. Space is something so vast that quiet stops being the relevant word at all. The distant star clusters looked like cooled, broken glass.

The hull stretched away on both sides of my vision, grey-white armor plating throwing back a cold shine under the work lights. The second your boots left the hatch, mag soles and tether were the only things telling you that you still belonged to this ship.

"B-7 team, EVA." Victor's voice, main channel.

"Copy." Maki slid out first, movements clean enough to suggest this wasn't her first time. I followed. My mag boots clacked onto the hull, solid — but my center of gravity still lurched from the visual displacement.

"Shimo. Right hand, grab the rail." Her reminder landed exactly when I needed it. I locked onto the external handhold and didn't drift out like a plastic bag in a bad crosswind. One beat of silence on the comms. Then Jess, far too cheerful: "First stumble of the day, logged. Congratulations, Hoshino. You've opened today's record."

"You have way too much free time."

"Can't help it. My job is watching you embarrass yourself."

"Your life goals are trash."

"Thank you." I was about to fire back when Maki reached over and tapped my shoulder plate once.

"Focus."

"... I know." We followed the hull markings out to the B-7 section. The damage was a lot more real than the mock panels from the sim: beside an angled heat-sink line, a marked surface crack sat next to a sensor flow bracket that had lifted slightly where its anchor bolt had loosened. Not catastrophic on paper — but left alone through enough hot-and-cold cycling, exactly the kind of thing that becomes a real problem. Maki split the work fast.

"I'll pull the bracket. You clean the crack and preheat the welder. Cross-check in thirty seconds."

"Copy." I clipped into a side anchor point, pulled out the brush and suction pads, and started clearing the area around the crack. In zero-G, every motion needs half a beat more thought than on solid ground — especially force direction. Too light, nothing happens. Too hard, you're the one who drifts. Yesterday's sim had been stressful enough. Today came with the added weight of this is the real assessment, which made even my breathing feel like it might be graded. And Jess was still on the line.

"Shimo, your left hand angle's too high." I froze.

"... You're watching pretty closely."

"Because I'm staring, yes."

"Don't say that like it's normal."

"What's weird about it?" All false innocence.

"I'm doing my job. Besides, weren't you also, last night—""Jess." Maki cut her off. Not loud. Not even especially cold. But the other end of the line actually went quiet for two seconds. Then Jess clicked her tongue and said, lighter, "Fine. Work first. Maki — lower-right bolt on the flow bracket's got a reflection. Might not be fully backed out. Watch it." I blinked. She was actually doing her job. Maki checked immediately.

"See it. Thanks."... I still couldn't tell whether those two got along or not.

"Shimo. Welder."

"Coming." I handed off the cleaned area for her to inspect and popped the welder's safety. Standby light stepped from blue to green; my visor readout synced a half-second later. Maki ran the probe along the crack's edge, confirmed depth and spread, then stepped back and gave me the spot.

"You take the first pass."

"Me?"

"Mm."

"You sure?"

"Sure." She looked at me, voice steady.

"You didn't do badly yesterday. Today, just don't let someone's trash talk knock you off." Jess's protest came in instantly.

"Objection. Personal attack."

"Overruled," I said, and dragged my focus back to the crack in front of me. The moment the welder fired, fine blue-white sparks scattered along the crack's edge — like stardust trapped in a vacuum, flaring and dying in silence. No air, no sound carried, just the machine's vibration feeding up through the glove and into my arm. It was a strange sensation: doing something brutally industrial and heavy, while the view in front of you stayed unreasonably beautiful.

"Slower," Maki said. I eased my wrist back.

"Don't chase a pretty line. Chase stable."

"I know."

"Your real problem right now is wanting to get it perfect in one pass."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"Out here? No." I wanted to argue. I couldn't, because she was right. So I gritted my teeth and pressed every centimeter down solid and steady. Sparks flared against the inside of the visor like shattering blue rain. By the time the first pass sealed, my back was damp.

"Acceptable." Maki checked it over, and something in her voice finally loosened, just a fraction.

"Better than yesterday." Jess pounced on it immediately.

"Wow, praise from Maki. Hoshino, don't you want to record that and loop it tonight—""Do you want me to strangle you with a tether?"

"Not really. But if it were Maki doing the strangling, I might consider it."

"Jess!" Lan and I hit the line at the exact same moment. Laughter erupted on the adjacent channel. D's was the loudest.

"She's finished — even her own partner's done with her—""Mind your own line," Victor cut into the main channel, dry as sand.

"D, that bracket drifts five more degrees, I'm kicking you off the hull straight back to basic training."

"Copy, copy!" The brief chaos actually helped. At least I wasn't the only one suffering. We moved on to the bracket swap. Maki handled the old part; I seated the new bracket and ran the bolts home. Her movements were clean to the point of being ruthless — no hesitation anywhere. I followed her rhythm, clumsy at first, gradually catching up. By the time we were refastening the heat-sink line, I could read her next need off the angle of her reach before she finished it. That kind of sync is dangerous.

Because it creates an illusion — that as long as you follow her, nothing can go wrong.

"Shimo. Right side."

"Here."

"Lock bolt."

"Done."

"Secondary clip."

"Secured."

"Good." There it was again. Every time she said "good," something in my head quietly gave way. On the comms, Jess had gone unusually quiet for a stretch — long enough I almost forgot she was still on the line. Then, right as we ran the final power-on check, she spoke.

"... You two really do work well together." Not fast. Not particularly barbed either. Almost like she was just stating a fact. I blinked. My hands slowed half a beat. Maki answered her, level as ever.

"Because she listens." Warmth hit my chest for no defensible reason. Before I could examine that any further, the flow bracket's indicator light came on. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Green. Job done.

"B-7 team, report status." Victor's voice. I opened my mouth. Maki got there first.

"B-7 section: crack seal complete, flow bracket replacement complete, heat-sink line refastened, power-on check nominal. Requesting confirmation." A few seconds later, main control replied.

"Data received. Weld points within tolerance. Torque within tolerance. Deviation within acceptable range. B-7 team, pass." In that moment, my first thought, oddly, wasn't thank god. It was just the long breath I let out — the whole of me finally slipping loose from some invisible rope I hadn't realized was still holding me up. The first voice on the comms was Jess's. She laughed, quiet and brief.

"Congratulations, Shimo." I looked at the green indicator light on the flow bracket, then turned to Maki beside me. She was already looking back. Through the visor, I couldn't read everything in her eyes — but I saw her lift her hand and touch the back of mine. Not heavy. Just a moment. Like: not bad. Like: see, you could. Something in my chest pulled tight. I looked away, pretending to check the retrieval route.

"... Let's head back."

"Mm," Maki said. On the comms, Jess immediately resumed her natural state.

"Can I request a short interview with both of you when you're in? Working title: EVA Welding and the Correlation with Emotional Warmth in Enclosed Spaces."

"Go to hell."

"So fierce."

"You earned it."

"And Maki?" I assumed she'd ignore it. Instead, she answered, perfectly flat: "Ask me when we're back inside." My mag boot slipped. I nearly became exactly the kind of drifting object Victor had warned us about. On the other end of the comms, Jess laughed until she choked. The moment the inner airlock door sealed and pressure flooded back in, I had the first genuine thought of my life that the ability to hear other people's voices was not a mark of civilization, but the opening phase of a torture procedure.

Because I knew exactly what was waiting for me on the other side. And as always, my read on human nature proved accurate to a depressing degree. The second the door slid back and Maki and I stepped into the changing bay — helmets not even fully off — Jess materialized from the side like a predator who had been patient for a very long time.

"Welcome back—" She dragged out the end of it, sweet and vicious in equal measure. I nearly put my helmet back on and filed for permanent hull-side residency.

"Would our two B-7 model technicians be available for a brief interview?"

"No." I said it before she'd finished the question.

"Next question." She kept going like she hadn't heard a word.

"First: what was that coordination out there? You two were in sync like you'd been secretly rehearsing wedding vows." I nearly dropped my helmet.

"What kind of comparison is that?!"

"A precise one," Jess said, entirely serious.

"One of you leads, the other stands by saying 'good,' the tone is steady, the rhythm is practiced, the workflow is smooth — if that's not a marriage, what is it?"

"That's called construction cooperation!"

"Oh — so your understanding of marriage is construction cooperation."

"Stop building a weird worldview for me without my permission!" I was still yelling when I put the helmet on the rack — too hard. The rack rang out with a solid clang and startled me into flinching. Very authoritative. D was already laughing hard enough that he needed the locker for structural support, one hand pressed against it, the other pointing at me with zero conscience.

"Hoshino. You look exactly like someone who got caught red-handed, frantically insisting they only went to the library to study — except they're still carrying someone else's shampoo in their hair."

"Shut up."

"I'm being serious." He reined the laugh in just enough to put on a talk-show-host expression.

"Alright, let's analyze rationally. One: the comms were recorded the whole time. Two: Jess as monitoring officer showed abnormal levels of emotional investment. Three: Maki personally—""D." I turned and fixed him with a look.

"Keep going, and even if I've passed every assessment today, I'll add one more combat evaluation right here."

"Wow, fierce." He raised his hands in surrender, completely unrepentant.

"That's called embarrassment turning into aggression."

"That's called self-defense."

"Then I support you," Harvey said, from off to the side, unhurried. I was almost moved for a full second. Then I heard him finish the sentence.

"After all, if D keeps talking, the average intelligence of this entire changing bay drops measurably."... Never mind. Revoked. D spun to glare at him.

"Hey, that's not just a block — you just killed me too."

"Can't be helped." Harvey started pulling off his gloves, tone as steady as an academic presenting findings.

"You two have both provided extremely valuable observational data today. One: a human specimen capable of sustaining high-volume noise output even in zero gravity. The other: a rare type who, under high-stress conditions and specific social stimuli, displays pronounced auricular vasodilation." I turned to look at him slowly.

"Who has pronounced what?" He met my eyes, completely honest.

"You."

"... Harvey."

"Mm?"

"You should pray you never need me to help you with anything."

"That's unlikely to be possible," he said, pulling the glove free and giving a mild nod.

"Maki does rely on you considerably for technical coordination, after all." The changing bay went quiet for half a beat. I hadn't even processed it before Jess's "Oh—" was already in the air, drawn out like she was running a hook back and forth across every nerve I had.

"Rely." D smacked the locker.

"That word is heavy, Harvey."

"I'm stating an observation." Harvey, unshaken.

"You're all overreacting."

"You call that stating?" My temple was throbbing.

"You just poured fuel directly into the fire."

"The combustion is very clean, though," he said. This man looked, at all other times, like someone who ran his life on the format of a laboratory log. Apparently he still needed to be punched. In the middle of all this, Maki was quietly undoing her chest clips. Unhurried. Calm to the point of serenity. The upper half of her EVA suit had gone slightly damp from pressure and exertion, pressing close to her as the zipper slid down.

She tilted her head at a clean, quiet angle, like the entire room of idiots existed in a different dimension from hers. The problem was that the calmer she was, the more I looked like the one standing next to her detonating. Jess noticed this immediately and redirected all fire onto me.

"So," she said, sidling closer, eyes bright — a genuinely pretty face currently radiating nothing but bad intentions — "what did Maki say to you out there? That line, because she listens — I'm still thinking about it. So soft. She's never that easy on anyone."

"Why are you thinking about that?"

"Because it's rare." Jess said it like it was completely obvious.

"And she touched the back of your hand." I froze.... She saw that? Of course she saw it. She was the monitoring officer today. There is no justice in this universe.

"That was a completely normal post-task confirmation!"

"What kind of normal confirmation involves touching the back of someone's hand?" Jess looked genuinely curious.

"Go on, demonstrate. I'll volunteer as the subject, for the sake of science."

"Get out."

"D, then?"

"I decline."

"Harvey?"

"I'd advise against it," Harvey said.

"Her current emotional state is unstable. Normal contact may be escalated to deliberate bodily harm."

"Both of you, get out!" I was mid-yell when a small, clean metallic click came from beside me. Maki had released the last retention ring. She looked up — at Jess first, then D and Harvey — and spoke, perfectly even.

"Don't you have anything to do?" The room went quiet. Jess blinked, and somehow still found a smile.

"A little bit, no."

"Go help the next team sort their equipment."

"I'd rather sort out Shimo's emotional state."

"She doesn't need that," Maki said. Four ordinary words. The problem was how she said them — too flat, too natural, like this was simply something that fell under her jurisdiction. The mischief in Jess's eyes shifted. Not retreat. Not annoyance. Something lit up that was sharper than before — like she'd spotted something more interesting to play with.

"Oh," she said, drawing it out, wearing the most punchable smile I'd ever seen on a human face.

"I see." My scalp prickled.

"What do you see now?"

"Nothing." She raised her hands in mock surrender.

"I just suddenly feel that B-7's division of labor today was very clear. Maki handles the technical work. You handle the anxiety. I handle the commentary."

"That's not commentary, that's polluting a communications channel."

"But your reactions are so fun."

"Because you're insufferable!"

"I know." She smiled, genuinely delighted.

"That's why I come find you."... This woman has no shame. Zero. A complete absence. D, watching from the side, had reached a state of pure happiness. He was even starting to feed Jess lines.

"But honestly, Hoshino — you really did work well out there today. Way steadier than yesterday." That one wasn't just noise. I could hear it. I let the fire bank down a little and made a noncommittal sound.

"Maki sets a good rhythm."

"Oh, oh — mutual professional praise begins." D perked up immediately.

"Note that down. This is what partner culture looks like."

"It's not praise. It's a fact." Harvey had half his EVA suit off and was leaning against the locker watching us, tone as level as someone dictating an unfortunate research report.

"Accurate. If you'd been paired with anyone else today, you probably would've had hand tremors on the second weld pass."

"... Why does everyone just assume my hands were going to shake?"

"Because you can't hide it," Harvey said. D nodded.

"It's all over your face." Jess finished it: "Especially when Maki gets close." I took a long, slow breath. Right. Now I understood what a group beatdown felt like. Just without the fists. All mouth. The worst part was the person who was theoretically supposed to save me from this exact situation — my partner — was still standing there looking completely unruffled. She pulled off her inner gloves, smoothed her hair where the helmet had pressed it flat, and then, mildly:"Shimo." I turned on reflex.

"What?"

"Zipper's stuck."

"... Oh." Almost on instinct, I walked over and reached around to work the outer-layer retention zip on her back. The EVA suit was thick and loaded with clips, so I had to stand close, fingers feeling along the seam for where it had caught. The room went unusually quiet. I hadn't even registered the warning signs before a very deliberate throat-clearing came from behind me.

"Ahem." Jess.

"For the record, I am not reading into this." Her tone was so sincere it made me want to commit a crime.

"But this image does look remarkably like the domestic routine of a long-married couple." My hand slipped. I nearly tore the zipper off entirely.

"Shut up!" Maki, apparently unaffected, tilted her head slightly and asked me, "Done?"

"... Almost."

"Your hands are shaking."

"That's because someone is standing next to me talking garbage!"

"Mm." That "mm" sounded almost like a laugh. The zipper finally came free. I stepped back immediately, like I'd just cleared the blast radius. Jess stood with her arms crossed, watching me, eyes and mouth both curved.

"You look exactly like someone who just did something they feel guilty about."

"I was just helping with a zipper!"

"I know, I didn't say anything else."

"Your face said plenty!"

"That's your imagination."

"Jess."

"Okay, okay." She finally waved a hand, magnanimous for approximately two seconds.

"I'll let it go. But I do have one genuine question." I looked at her, wary.

"What." She glanced at Maki, then let her eyes drift back to me, slow.

"Next time there's a formal EVA, do you want to keep her as your partner?" D stopped laughing. Harvey didn't cut in. Even I went still for a moment. The changing bay went briefly, genuinely quiet — just the distant clatter of someone else breaking down equipment, and the low hum of the ventilation. I looked at Maki on instinct. She wasn't looking at me. Just working through the equipment clips, like she'd handed the answer back to me. My throat went a little dry. The safe answer was obvious.

Depends on the assignment. Either way's fine. Anyone works. Clean. Noncommittal. Nothing too exposed. I opened my mouth. What came out was something else.

"... Yeah. I do." Jess's eyes lit up. D produced a long, meaningful "Oh—" Harvey concluded, with complete calm: "Reasonable." My ears started burning. I was already forming the follow-up — because her technique is good — when Maki spoke first. She set the clip back in the box. Same flat tone as always.

"Same." The changing bay went silent. Not half a second this time. A full two seconds. Then Jess sucked in a sharp breath like she'd just unearthed classified military intelligence. D slapped his own thigh.

"That's too much. I need to write that down." Harvey actually followed it up: "Confirmed. Today's best comms log, updated." And I stood there feeling like I'd just come back from space and been immediately kicked back into the vacuum. Maki, meanwhile, appeared completely unaware she'd just dropped a live grenade, neatly placed her gloves into the storage box, and looked at me.

"Why are you still standing there?"

"... What?"

"Go shower." She said it like it was obvious.

"Your back's soaked." Jess jumped on it immediately, smiling like she'd just been handed a second act.

"Oh, reminding her to shower too. That's very attentive."

"Jess." I turned to look at her, expressionless.

"I am genuinely considering committing a crime right now."

"I know." She smiled pleasantly.

"But you're in a good mood today, so you won't."

"Where are you getting 'good mood' from?"

"Because you answered fast just now." She said it and stopped pushing — just stepped aside, leaving the path to the showers clear. I grabbed my change of clothes and walked past her. Behind me, I heard D drop his voice to a murmur.

"People like Maki who usually say so little — when they do open their mouths, it really lands." Harvey made a quiet sound of agreement.

"Which is why I said the observational data was valuable." My step faltered. I almost turned around and threw my towel at both of them. I didn't. Because if I stayed one more minute, I was fairly sure they'd organize a formal panel discussion in the changing bay titled Hoshino Shimo: A Live Record of Social Death. But at the shower room door, I couldn't help looking back once. Maki was standing where I'd left her, returning the disassembled gear piece by piece to its rack.

Jess was leaning against the lockers, still smiling, but the sharp edge had gone out of it. D and Harvey stood on either side of her, like two extremely bored but deeply invested audience members. And Maki, as if she felt my eyes, looked up. Across half the changing bay, I watched her pause — and then give the faintest lift of her chin. Which probably meant go on. Or possibly ignore them. Or, worst of all, the third interpretation. We'll talk later. I turned back around and pushed through the door. Right.

The EVA assessment was over.