2g - Position

She pushed off from the airlock and drifted toward the gash. The stars behind her were absolute—no twinkle, just hard, cold pinpricks of light. Jupiter loomed to her left, a swirling bruise of orange and red. She ignored it. Her world had shrunk to a sixty-centimeter scar in a metal plate.

She watched now. The bead swelled. She tilted the torch slightly—just a hair—and the surface tension grabbed hold. The puddle flattened, wetted the edges, and solidified into a smooth, scaly ripple. First pass, root gap closed. 2g position

“Weld complete,” she said.

“Root pass looks clean,” Elias said in her ear. “You’re burning through on the top edge, though. Angle down five degrees.” She pushed off from the airlock and drifted toward the gash

She adjusted. The second pass—the hot pass—went in. She fed the filler rod with her left hand, a steady rhythm she’d learned decades ago. Her right hand guided the torch in a tight weave, side to side, pausing on each edge to let the puddle fill the undercut. In 2G, the top edge always wants to undercut—to dig a groove next to the weld. She compensated by holding the torch a fraction of a second longer on the upper plate. She ignored it

Inside the station, sensors flashed green. The leak was sealed. The pressure held.