Emerald Flight: Future Perfect (continued)

Jostling her way to the hatch, she overrode its safety controls. After emitting an obligatory chime of warning, it opened for her. She was through it before it had swung open all the way, moving toward the now-still vessel at a dead run. The echoes of the footsteps behind her told Devereux that the others were not far behind.

She reached the small cockpit hatch and tugged at the emergency release, but it refused to budge. Frustration threatened to overwhelm her as she strained against the levers, straining muscles that she would not feel until later.

“Chief,” she managed through gritted teeth.

Rusty understood immediately, almost before she spoke. Clambering onto the hull so that he was poised above her, he worked the other release, meeting with a similar lack of success.

“Might have. Frozen. In. Space.” He grunted.

The lever suddenly began to move. The one gripped in Devereux’s hands started to slide as well. There was an audible hiss as the airlock seal was broken.

Devereux felt some relief upon hearing that sound. It meant that the hull had remained pressurized, giving its occupant an increased chance of having survived the unstable slipstream transition.

Rusty plunged headfirst into the hatch before she could, his legs dangling outside its edge like a discarded doll. His legs kicked as he tried to shift his position. A few moments later, they heard his appraisal muffled shout.

“Got ‘em.”

There was no denying the note of triumph in his voice. For a long moment, nothing happened except for the vigorous movements of his protruding legs. Suddenly, they went still.

“Someone want to pull me out?”

There was a moment of stunned silence, followed a series of furious motions as Devereux and Elizabeth each grabbed a leg and tugged on it. For a moment, it seemed as though their efforts might not be enough. Devereux glanced at Elizabeth, nodding a count of three with her head, and then they pulled again in unison. To Devereux’s relief, Rusty began to slow slid back out through the hatchway.

His torso became visible, and then his arms. His hands followed, tightly clutching the fabric of a old-fashioned pressure suit. Regaining his footing, he lifted the suited figure free of the hatchway and lowered it carefully to the deck. Devereux watched with a hollow lump in her chest the way the figure hung limply in Rusty’s arms.

It was Elizabeth who knelt and unfastened the helmet, revealing the face previously hidden by its polarized visor. The face of the brown-haired young man was slack, his complexion ashen and waxy.

Devereux struggled for control when the young man gave no reaction at being handled. Hope was there now, kneeling beside the figure, passing a medical scanner above its head. A pale blue light washed over his face, briefly highlighting its features.

“Remove this,” Hope said, indicating the pressure suit. “It interferes.”

Rusty ran his hands lightly over the edges of the suit, looking for seals or fastenings. He finally found two of them running parallel down the figure’s chest, just adjacent to its armpits. Rusty unsealed them both, revealing a dark layer of clothing underneath.

Hope resumed her examination, now passing the scanner over the young man’s torso. She paused for a moment, clearly studying the readings on the device’s display. Her eyebrows rose. Devereux recognized this as a significant indication of surprise.