"It's hard to believe. You handle yourself like a turtle on its back. Here." The instructor helped Matt to tuck in, much as if he were dressing a baby in a snow suit. Matt blushed.
The instructor ran through the check-off list-tank pressure, suit pressure, rocket fuel charge, suit oxygen, blood oxygen (measured by a photoelectric gadget clipped to the earlobe) and finally each suit's walky-talky unit. Then he herded them into the airlock.
Matt felt his suit swell up as the pressure died away in the lock. It was becoming slightly harder to move his arms and legs. "Hook up your static lines," called out the instructor. Matt uncoiled his from his belt and waited. Reports came in: "Number one hooked." "Number two hooked."
"Number three hooked," Matt sang out into the mike in
his helmet as he snapped his line to the belt of cadet number four. When they were all linked like mountain climbers the instructor hooked himself to the chain and opened the outer door of the lock. They looked out into the star-flecked void.
"Click on," directed the instructor, and placed his boots gently against the side of the lock. Matt did likewise and felt the magnetic soles of his boots click against the steel. "Follow me and stay closed up." Their teacher walked along the wall to the open door and performed an awkward little squatting spread-eagle step. One boot was still inside the door, flat to the wall, with the toe pointing inboard; with the other he reached around the corner, bent his knees, and felt for the outer surface of the ship. He withdrew the foot still in the lock and straightened his body-with which he almost disappeared, for he now stuck straight out from the ship, his feet flat to her side.
Following in order, Matt went out through the door. The ninety degree turn to get outside the lock and "standing" on the outer skin of the ship he found to be tricky; he was forced to use his hands to steady himself on the door frame. But he got outside and "standing up." There was no true up-and-down; they were still weightless, but the steel side was a floor "under" them; they stuck to it as a fly sticks to a ceiling.
Matt took a couple of trial steps. It was like walking in mud; his feet would cling stickily to the ship, then pull away suddenly. It took getting used to.
They had gone out on the dark side of the ship. Sun, Moon and Earth lay behind its bulk, underfoot. Not even Terra Station could be seen.
"We'll take a walk," announced the instructor, his voice hollow in their helmets. "Stick together." He started around the curving side of the ship. A cadet near the end of the chain tried to break both magnetized boots free from the ship at the same time. He accomplished it, by jumping-and then had no way' to get back. He moved out until his static line tugged at the two boys on each side of him.