The snick and hiss of the helmet locking into place and the rebreather kicking on always made Sam's heart quicken. This time, however, he was alone. More than alone. Sam turned at the waist, the thick suit crinkling, to check the door as his shaking hands went through the motions necessary to preserve his life. Initializing all the systems was usually done by another crew member and double checked by a third, and Sam hoped that he hadn't forgotten any of the process in his nervous rush. The gently flowing air in the suit made him shiver. Sam rechecked each clip and back-up clip that held the precious pack to his suit, his shaking hands made clumsier by the suit's gloves.
He was as ready as he thought he could be without assistance. This airlock had a small window, and his heart hammered harder, causing the suit's biocheck to beep softly. Sam took precious moments away from his schedule to breathe deeply until the beeping stopped. His fingers danced through the procedure he had done a thousand times to open the airlock onto space. Seal the inside door. Depressurize the small room. Release the outside door's quintuple locking mechanism. Spin the wheel. Magna-lock the door to the hull.
He held his breath, and, while the alarms began ship-wide, Sam stepped into open space.
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