breath?â asked underwater Biggs.
âTen fifty-five . . . ,â replied Finch.
Neil turned to his shaggy-headed friend.
âTime to move, dude!â
The two began swinging around the waterlogged spaceship, making their way to its front. Neil propelled himself along the side of the ship, grabbing metal poles as if they were jungle vines.
This isnât so bad. Just keep your momentum going.
He guided himself to the nose of the ship and shinnied around the windows of the cockpit.
Just then, Finchâs voice crackled over Neilâs and Biggsâs headsets.
âA patch of space junk has been detected in your orbit. You now have nine minutes to complete your mission,â said Finch, relishing the drama of the simulation.
âOkay, letâs motor,â said Neil. Biggs agreed, and they pressed onward. Neil heard a broadcast in his ear.
âSpecialist Andertol, you are the only one receiving this transmission. Your space suit is malfunctioning. Your helmet is slowly filling up with water from a clogged air filter.â
Neil paused, wondering if he should return to the surface.
This is the whole challenge; youâve got to keep going!
Biggs kept shuffling along the port side of the ship, and Neil slowly followed. He could see bubbles spraying out from the leaky valve they needed to reach.
âSpecialist Andertol, your communication radio has been compromised by water damage.â
So now Iâm stuck out here without oxygen, and I canât talk?
Neil tugged hard at a metal pole bolted to the ship. He flew toward Biggs, snagging a corner of his oxygen pack.
âSpecialist Andertol, your helmet is now half-filled with water. Youâve only got two minutes, maximum, of oxygen in reserve.â
Neil turned to his friend and tried to communicate that his radio was broken. He kept pointing at his ears, making a slashing motion and an X with both forearms, but Biggs just didnât seem to get it.
Use The Universal Biggs Language!
What is The Universal Biggs Language?
Neil tried to imagine what would qualify as speech in his weird friendâs head. He decided to make a gasping motion with his mouth, like a catfish. He flicked his tongue a lot, just to be dramatic.
âYou okay, Neil?â said Biggs, gliding toward the problematic valve they were sent to fix.
Neil met eyes with Biggs, and his friend could instantly tell something was wrong.
âWhatâs up, man? You okay?â Biggs asked.
Neil tried yelling, but Finch had disconnected his radio, just like what would happen in space. He knew he had to get himself out of the situation. There wasnât enough oxygen left for Neil to stay underwater while Biggs finished the mission, but he didnât know that. Neil had to let him know they needed to get back in the air lock immediately.
âAndertol, your suit is now rapidly filling up with water from your cooling unit,â Finch said over a speaker near Neilâs head. âYour suit will be filled in less than forty-five seconds. What do you do?â
Neil threw caution to the wind and began trying to make hand movements that looked like horses or centaurs, or some other kind of mythical four-legged animal.
âWhoa! You in trouble, Neil?â Biggs yelled. He turned his attention from the bubbling valve outside of the fake Whiptail to his friend.
Neil made his mouth open wide, like a puffer fish suffocating onshore.
âYou have a leak in your suit? Well, letâs get back inside!â yelled Biggs, realizing the safety of his partner was more valuable than ship repairs. They floated back around the ship. Biggs ushered Neil into the shipâs air lock, and Finch announced that the training was over.
Yellow-fin-wearing SCUBA divers, who had been overseeing the safety of the procedure, escorted Neil and Biggs to the waterâs surface.
âWell done, you two,â the commander said. He typed a few more keystrokes into his laptop
âTen fifty-five . . . ,â replied Finch.
Neil turned to his shaggy-headed friend.
âTime to move, dude!â
The two began swinging around the waterlogged spaceship, making their way to its front. Neil propelled himself along the side of the ship, grabbing metal poles as if they were jungle vines.
This isnât so bad. Just keep your momentum going.
He guided himself to the nose of the ship and shinnied around the windows of the cockpit.
Just then, Finchâs voice crackled over Neilâs and Biggsâs headsets.
âA patch of space junk has been detected in your orbit. You now have nine minutes to complete your mission,â said Finch, relishing the drama of the simulation.
âOkay, letâs motor,â said Neil. Biggs agreed, and they pressed onward. Neil heard a broadcast in his ear.
âSpecialist Andertol, you are the only one receiving this transmission. Your space suit is malfunctioning. Your helmet is slowly filling up with water from a clogged air filter.â
Neil paused, wondering if he should return to the surface.
This is the whole challenge; youâve got to keep going!
Biggs kept shuffling along the port side of the ship, and Neil slowly followed. He could see bubbles spraying out from the leaky valve they needed to reach.
âSpecialist Andertol, your communication radio has been compromised by water damage.â
So now Iâm stuck out here without oxygen, and I canât talk?
Neil tugged hard at a metal pole bolted to the ship. He flew toward Biggs, snagging a corner of his oxygen pack.
âSpecialist Andertol, your helmet is now half-filled with water. Youâve only got two minutes, maximum, of oxygen in reserve.â
Neil turned to his friend and tried to communicate that his radio was broken. He kept pointing at his ears, making a slashing motion and an X with both forearms, but Biggs just didnât seem to get it.
Use The Universal Biggs Language!
What is The Universal Biggs Language?
Neil tried to imagine what would qualify as speech in his weird friendâs head. He decided to make a gasping motion with his mouth, like a catfish. He flicked his tongue a lot, just to be dramatic.
âYou okay, Neil?â said Biggs, gliding toward the problematic valve they were sent to fix.
Neil met eyes with Biggs, and his friend could instantly tell something was wrong.
âWhatâs up, man? You okay?â Biggs asked.
Neil tried yelling, but Finch had disconnected his radio, just like what would happen in space. He knew he had to get himself out of the situation. There wasnât enough oxygen left for Neil to stay underwater while Biggs finished the mission, but he didnât know that. Neil had to let him know they needed to get back in the air lock immediately.
âAndertol, your suit is now rapidly filling up with water from your cooling unit,â Finch said over a speaker near Neilâs head. âYour suit will be filled in less than forty-five seconds. What do you do?â
Neil threw caution to the wind and began trying to make hand movements that looked like horses or centaurs, or some other kind of mythical four-legged animal.
âWhoa! You in trouble, Neil?â Biggs yelled. He turned his attention from the bubbling valve outside of the fake Whiptail to his friend.
Neil made his mouth open wide, like a puffer fish suffocating onshore.
âYou have a leak in your suit? Well, letâs get back inside!â yelled Biggs, realizing the safety of his partner was more valuable than ship repairs. They floated back around the ship. Biggs ushered Neil into the shipâs air lock, and Finch announced that the training was over.
Yellow-fin-wearing SCUBA divers, who had been overseeing the safety of the procedure, escorted Neil and Biggs to the waterâs surface.
âWell done, you two,â the commander said. He typed a few more keystrokes into his laptop
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