He noticed no EVA suits hanging in the airlock. He wondered about that. And he would have liked to see what they resembled. Maybe they had transparent fishbowl helmets, rings of pads around the arm and knee joints, and came in different colors. Or, worse, they were like old deep-sea diving suits, with round metal domes and small grated windows—Jules Verne gothic.
He curbed his pesky imagination and opened the inner hatch.
Pure darkness beyond.
“Will you please talk to me?” Again, Mileen’s voice scared the hell out of him.
“I’m at the goddamned door to the goddamned interior. You happy now?”
“Are you happy?”
“No. I apologize. I’ll try to keep talking.”
He leaned into the passageway, letting his lights shine about. A wall, almost bare, with pipes running across it amid bulky control c
