With delicate touches on his maneuvering thrusters, the pilot edged the shuttle closer and closer to the satellite, at the same time orienting the craft so that the bay would face it. It was a slow and intricate process, the last fifty meters taking fifteen minutes of tiny adjustments.

When he was done, the satellite was directly “above” the shuttle cargo bay. Inside the airlock, Eagle Six depressurized the bay and opened the door to the cargo bay. He took a moment to look up at the satellite, then turned to his right. In the front, port side of the bay was the FSS-Flight Support Station-which held the MMU, or Manned Maneuvering Unit.

He stepped up on the platform, sliding his boots into the loops at the base of the FSS. The PLSS on his back pressed against the MMU. Carefully he belted himself into the MMU. Then he ran through a system check. The MMU was a larger system that fit over the PLSS, with control arms coming out around his sides. It was a propulsion system that held two nitrogen-under-pressure fuel tanks. There were twenty-four holes on the exterior of the MMU, which the nitrogen could be directed through to provide thrust.

The hardest thing about EVAing was the three-dimensional aspect, along with the two types of movement involved-translation and rotation. Translation was straight line movement, while rotation was a spinning movement. It got complicated when the two were combined, because he had three types of translation: up or down; forward or back; and right or left. And then he had three types of rotation: pitch, yaw, and roll. Three times three equaled nine ways of movement. It confused many who entered the astronaut program and was the cause of numerous washouts of otherwise highly qualified candidates. In the weightless-environment training facility in Houston, he had watched trainees get confused and disoriented in the pool by the multiple movement options.

His left hand controlled translation while his right dictated rotation. He had trained with the MMU so often in the pool that his movements, like those of a helicopter pilot, had become instinctual. If he stopped to think, he would be lost.

All was go. He released the MMU from the FSS. He was no longer an astronaut but a satellite. He was free of everything, of Earth, of gravity, of the shuttle. It was as close as a human could come to being God, at least that is what he thought, floating high over the planet. He could move in any direction with just a slight movement of his hands. Despite the sense of power, there was also an almost overwhelming feeling of being very, very small against the vastness of space. This mixture of opposing feelings could overwhelm at times. He’d learned that when moving he had to keep his focus entirely on his goal.

He jetted down the bay to a large box strapped to the floor. Carefully, he removed the straps, then attached a leash to his boot. With a twitch of the controls, he headed away from the shuttle bay and toward the satellite. There wasn’t much thrust from the holes in the MMU, just the equivalent of 7.56 Newtons of power, but in space it was more than enough.

As he got closer he could see the letters stenciled on the side: MIL STAR 4. After working on a dozen deployed military satellites, he still couldn’t understand who bothered to put the name on each. It wasn’t like anyone else was going to stop by and check it out or that Space Command would lose track of one of the many satellites and they wouldn’t be able to find it.

He was between the shuttle and the satellite when he halted, locking the automatic attitude control with his right hand. Below him was the Earth. The entire blue-white orb. In this way Eagle Six was no different than the NASA crew members: no human could fail to be awed by the spectacle of the planet in its totality. There was a storm over the Pacific, a swirl of white clouds over the blue, and he watched it for several moments. It was hard to imagine that people were beneath that, being battered by wind and rain.

Forcing himself to concentrate on the mission, he continued on his way. Eagle Six had watched NASA astronauts do work in space using the MMU, particularly the Hubble repair, and he knew he could have done the labor in half the time, given his experience. Working in a suit was difficult, and flying the MMU compounded that. The good part was that every part of the MMU had a built-in fail-safe. No single failure could cause a system failure, which, given the parameters of the environment, would be fatal. Compensating for the box attached to his foot made it much more difficult-if NASA was doing this mission, there would have been two astronauts, hauling the box between them.

He arrived, braking with small blasts of nitrogen as he got closer. He felt the tug on his foot as the box went past. He was ready for it and prevented himself from tumbling with a few expert movements. He unleashed the box from his foot and attached it to the satellite.

He had enough energy and oxygen to last six hours. He’d done this exact mission three times before. The first time, it had taken almost five hours, but the last one had been just under four, so he felt confident he had plenty of time.

He opened the top of the box, revealing a set of tools and another lid below the first. Taking out what he needed, he unbolted the panel on the front of the satellite and made sure each bolt, and the panel itself, were secure, using magnets on the side of the box. He reached into the satellite and unhooked a computer and then a transmitter, securing both on tethers.

Then he flipped open the next lid on the box, revealing a new computer and transmitter. He slid them into place, making sure all the connections were secure. He ran a systems check and everything came back green.

Eagle Six had been out for just over three hours. Collecting everything he’d brought with him, he made sure it was secure inside the box. With a deft touch of the controls, he spun about, facing the shuttle. He moved away from the satellite until he was once more halfway between it and the craft. Then he changed his attitude until he was facing Earth. He unhooked the box and gave it a shove, sending it slowly tumbling “downward” into Earth’s gravity well. Of course, the shove sent him “upward” in reaction, and he stilled the movement with a burst of the jets on his back.

He stayed still for minutes, watching the box slowly disappear, savoring the absolute solitude of his location and the beautiful vista of the planet below. The Pacific was below and he could see lightning flickering in the large storm cloud over the ocean. Letting go of the controls, he reached both hands out, framing the storm between his gloves.

Reluctantly, he returned to business. He activated his secure communications channel to the MILSTAR satellite, bypassing the crew and NASA. “Boreas, this is Eagle Six. Over.”

The reply was instantaneous. “This is Boreas. Over.”

“How do you read me. Over.”

“Read you six by six. Over.”

“MILSTAR 4 has been upgraded. Over.”

“Wait one while we check it. Over.”

The astronaut didn’t mind waiting. To the right of the Pacific, he could see the edge of the west coast of the United States, sweeping from Baja up to Alaska. He knew everything he could see, MILSTAR 4 could reach with its transmissions. The MILSTAR system was cutting-edge communications technology for the American military, consisting of a series of satellites that could exchange secure communications with each other and the planet’s surface at bandwidths and speeds previously thought impossible.

The speaker in his helmet came alive with sound. “Eagle Six, this is Boreas. We read MILSTAR 4 on-line for HAARP transmissions and upgraded. Good job. Out here.”

Eagle Six’s hand flicked the control and he spun about, facing the shuttle. He jetted toward the cargo bay. He landed smoothly and backed the MMU into the FSS. He unbuckled from the maneuvering unit and made his way across the cargo bay to the airlock. Above him, the cargo bay doors slowly began to swing shut.