Summary: With the tools before her, she measures a mortal thread.
When the cold gas thruster failed during extravehicular activity, she suited up in the airlock.
She heard the klaxon scream as her colleague drifted helplessly away from the space station.
She smelled the perspiration of her breath in the fetid space suit.
She felt the pressure she exerted on the trigger of the linecaster pistol, delicately fingering it in her bulky spacesuit gauntlet.
She tasted coppery blood as she bit into her tongue with gritted teeth.
She saw the rescue rocket carry the carbon nanotube line behind it, reaching out for the errant astronaut.
Her colleague grasped it as the line spooled out. With a comfortable celerity, she pulled her friend back towards the airlock.