The clunker satellite was within his grasp. The gloves of Rise's space-suit rig sent signals to the neural relays attached to his head as he grazed the side of the satellite. The metal felt brittle, and he expected that from a two hundred year old satellite. What caught his interest, however, was the hollow feeling that resonated from his gloves to his head. Satellites were compact and filled with the electronics necessary to equip them with for their job. They were most definitely not hollow.
Rise acted quickly; his shuttle would be out of reach in a few minutes. Clambering around the outside and pawing at the peeling heat tiles-- heat tiles did not belong on a satellite-- he began looking for a handle or a latch of sorts. The metal had felt hollow, but not enough to warrant a sizeable space on the other side and if the satellite was similar to his shuttle that would indicate a panel. Curiosity had always been an undeniable trait of his, and he was determined to investigate further and pull the panel back to reveal just why this satellite was still considered operational.
As an eight-year-old he had become fascinated with intruding the attic of his home. It rustled at night above his bed, and he had decided the nighttime monsters were going to be met with by him and a flashlight. Having been warned and not heeding those warnings he broke into the attic with the stepladder from the garage, and stumbled upon a small family of raccoons in the back corner that hissed and gurgled at him. These were not the friendly animals from storybooks, and upon being encroached by familiar bandit-masked animals, everything felt too alive. He wasn't defending himself from monsters, but from creatures that could handle themselves. From what he could recollect, his fingers had become numb from his grip on the flashlight. Loosening the muscles in his hands, there was a clatter that stirred the attic dust, a fizzle of a lightbulb and the retractions of long, pain-filled needles.
He was that kid in the attic again, that kid looking for monsters but instead locating reality.
The panel's outline appeared to him as the faintest grey between the tiles. It had been heat-proofed with an old time heat-seal.
"Shuttle 'Adonis' out of short-range comms." One hand on the satellite Rise swiveled to an unfamiliar view where his shuttle had been present earlier as large as the moon but now disappearing as it orbited, was small enough to block out with his thumb. This was his warning, but the attic loomed before him again in the form of a two hundred year old satellite.
His breath turned to the satellite. From his suit he retrieved one of the tools designed for slashing heat-seals, should it ever be necessary. This seemed more than a necessary occasion. He sliced through one edge and crowbar'ed the tool in between the tiles and pried the panel loose with his gloved fingers and wedged tool.
He lost the panel covering to space as his eyes went to inspecting the dials and guages before him; their purpose was unmistakable. This satellite was capable of sustaining life.