It was getting hot and the humid heat always made me claustrophobic. Sweat drenched my hair and gathered on my forehead, making my face itch. The suit that prevented me from wiping away the sweat was miserable to work in, and a general pain in the ass. On the other hand it was all that kept me from the caress of space. I’d seen the damage that frozen temperatures could do, cold that fractured flesh. I was never clear on whether it was implosion or explosion but the result was the same.

Today’s work consisted of patching up the mining rig, Charon’s Mark, my home away from home. Debris had punctured through the lower hull. It wasn’t life threatening by itself but it would exacerbate any problems in the area. Better to get it patched now rather than wait for it to become a bigger problem. There weren’t any way stations out here and while we could probably make it home, I’d found out the hard way that taking chances in space had severe consequences.

A burst of static let me know that someone wanted to chat.