Trudy’s voice said in Grant’s helmet speakers, “now plug in the connector cord from the backup computer.…” Grant was standing on the spider-work platform built halfway up the telescope, where its secondary mirror had been placed. It was dark inside the hundred-meter-wide tube, and he was glad that it was nighttime again out on the floor of the crater. He was sweating enough inside his insulated suit. Cooling water gurgled through the tubes of his thermal undergarment, yet still he was perspiring. I should’ve remembered to bring a headband, he berated himself, blinking sweat away from his eyes, wishing he could snake a hand past the suit’s neck ring and rub his eyes, scratch his itching nose. “You’re doing swell, Grant,” Trudy encouraged. “Almost finished.” Grant saw her snub-nosed gamine’s face on half the display screen he had set up on the work platform’s grilled floor. The other half showed a schematic of the spectrometer’s mount. Trudy’s right, he saw: we’re damned near finished.
