Kinsman accepted all this with hardly a conscious thought. He worked slowly, methodically, like a sleepwalker, using as little motion as possible, letting himself drift slightly until a more-or-less natural motion counteracted and pulled him back in the opposite direction. Ride the waves, he told himself, slow and easy. There was rhythm to his work, the natural dreamlike rhythm of weightlessness.

His earphones were silent. He said nothing. All he heard was the purring of the suit's air blowers and his own steady breathing. All he saw was his work. 84

Finally he inserted the last thick power cable to the receptacle waiting on the sidewall of the station. I pronounce you station and power source, he said silently. Inspecting the checkout lights alongside the connectors, he saw that they were all green. May you produce many kilowatts.

"Okay, it's finished," he announced, pushing slightly away from the station. "How's Linda doing?"

Jill answered at once, "She's all set."

"Send her out."

She came out of the hatch slowly, uncertainly, wavering feet sliding out first from the bulbous airlock. It reminded Kinsman of a film he had seen of a whale giving birth.

"Welcome to the real world," he said once her helmet cleared the airlock hatch.

She turned to answer him and he heard her gasp and he knew that now he liked her.

"It's . . . it's . . ."

"Staggering," Kinsman suggested. "And look at you—no hands!"

She was floating freely, space suit laden with camera gear, tether flexing easily behind her. Kinsman could not see her face through the tinted visor, but he could hear the awe in her voice, even in her breathing.

"I've never seen anything so absolutely overpow- ering ..."

And then suddenly she was all business, reaching for a camera, snapping away at the Earth and the station and even the distant Moon, rapid-fire. She moved too fast and started to tumble. Kinsman jetted over and steadied her, holding her by the shoulders.

"Hey, take it easy. They're not going away. You've got lots of time."

"I want to get some shots of you, and the station. Can you go over by the power pod and go through some of the motions of your work on it?"

Kinsman posed for her, answered her questions, rescued a camera when she fumbled it out of her gloved hands and missed several grabs at it.

"Judging distances out here is a little wacky," he said as he handed the camera back to her.

Jill called them twice and ordered them back inside. 85

"Chet, you're already fifteen minutes over the schedule limit!"

"There's plenty slop in the schedule; we can stay out a while longer."

"You're going to get her exhausted." "I really feel fine," Linda said, her voice lyrical. "How much more film do you have?" Kinsman asked her.

Without needing to look at the camera she answered, "Six more shots."

"Okay. We'll come in when the film runs out, Jill." "You're going to be in darkness in another five minutes." Turning to Linda, floating upside-down with the cloud- decked Earth behind her, he said, "Save your film for the sunset, and then shoot like hell when it comes," "The sunset? What'll I focus on?" "You'll know when it happens. Just watch." It came fast but she was equal to it. As the station swung in its orbit toward the Earth's night shadow, the Sun dropped to the horizon and shot off a spectacular few moments of the purest reds and oranges and finally a heart-catching blue. Kinsman watched in silence, hearing Linda's breath going faster and faster as she worked the camera.

Then they were in darkness. Kinsman flicked on his helmet lamp, Linda was just hanging there, camera in hand.