Station Breaker

by Andrew Mayne

  After the fact, the signs of erratic behavior are everywhere. "Yeah, it did seem a little odd that he brought a gun with him. Well, yes, he did seem a little erratic that morning."

  I'm starting to freak myself out. Peterson is part of this or knows something is up. Is there a little thing between them that's about to erupt onboard the Russian space station?

  See something, say something, David.

  I'm not about to start blurting this out over our comm system; even the secure line. I have no way of knowing who else at Mission Control will be listening in. All I need is someone to report it right back to Bennet. It's not even a question of who they'll trust between us.

  However...we have a text-based communication system that's basically instant messaging for talking between the Unicorn and Earth or any of the other iCosmos properties.

  I could direct message Renata through here with something innocuous, like, "Bennet seems tense. Is there anything I should know?"

  If she knows what he's up to, then all she has to say is, "It's okay," or something like that. Then I can relax and casually mention his gun discreetly.

  When I try to access the messaging window, I get an alert that say, "iComm unavailable at this terminal."

  Bennet shut down the system?

  I slide out of the seat and try Peterson's panel. Same message.

  Jesus. They've locked me out of both systems!

  Alright, enough is enough.

  We keep a set of laptops in the trunk in the event our displays stop working or we need extra terminals.

  I float over to the trunk and remove one. The minute it takes to boot up feels like a year. I'm afraid Bennet is going to come back and find me hunched over the thing, trying to send my secret message.

  Fuck him. I'll just tell him flat out I was trying to work around the message system lock out.

  I pull up the iComm window and type in my credentials. A second later I get a different error message: Channel offline.

  He shut down all outward access for the messaging system. Hell, is my microphone even live?

  "Nashville, this is Unicorn 22, can I get a time check? Over."

  Nothing.

  I pull up a command line and type in crew/channel/status=

  Comm01: Active

  Comm02: Disabled

  Comm03: Active

  Comm04: Disabled

  Comm05: Disabled

  Comm06: Disabled

  Comm07: Disabled

  Comm08: Disabled

  Bio01: Active

  Bio02: Active

  Bio03: Active

  Bio04: Disabled

  Bio05: Disabled

  Bio06: Disabled

  Bio07: Disabled

  Bio08: Disabled

  Jesus. Bennet disabled all the microphones except his and Peterson's while leaving my suit's biosensors live. The only way I can talk to ground control is if I have a heart attack in Morse code.

  "Are you checking Facebook?" asks a female Russian voice from the hatch.

  I'd jump out of my seat if I wasn't already floating a foot over it.

  I look up and see a young woman staring at me from the nose cone. Large cheekbones and short red hair, she kind of reminds me of Peterson, only Russian.

  "Just doing a routine check," I say, sounding like someone who only says "routine" when he's doing something very much not part of a routine.

  "You are Pilot David Dixon?"

  "Yes."

  "I'm Flight Engineer Sonin. I am here to babysit you." She says this in what sounds close to a friendly tone – at least the most friendly I've heard since launch.

  "Do they pay you by the hour or the orbit?" I reply, trying to sound totally not stressed out.

  "This is funny," she says without a trace of laughter. "Commander Yablokov said you were not military."

  "No, ma'am. Just a slack-jawed civilian that wants to be a space man."

  "I see. What did you do before working for iCosmos?"

  "Me? I was a school teacher for about three weeks."

  "You weren't very good at it?"

  "Probably not. I wanted to be an astronaut even more."

  "But you are a pilot? Yes?"

  Why did I feel like everyone here is very interested in my résumé? Don't they have LinkedIn in Russia?

  Peterson and Bennet are the interesting ones. But maybe that's it; they've both got full Wikipedia pages with their entire life story. I'm a line of red text with nothing to link to on a page listing all of the current iCosmos astronauts.

  When the Russians found out that we were coming and that I was a last-minute fill-in, I looked like the suspicious one.

  "Yes. I'm a pilot." In the interest of international conversation, I'm about to point out that I'd even flown MiGs in Russian and learned a little of the language.

  But I don't, because all hell is breaking loose.

  There's a loud bang and an alarm goes off, filling the air with deafening noise.

  "This is not good!" shouts Sonin.

  You don't say...

  9

  BLOOD STAINS

  "MICROMETEORITE?" Sonin asks.

  As if I would know.

  She gives me a confused look then pushes off the airlock hatch and flies away to investigate the alarm.

  Micrometeorites are a real thing. The Space Shuttle came back to Earth twice with dings in the windshield. One went halfway through. They started orbiting the craft upside down and backwards so the engines, not needed for reentry, would take the brunt of the damage instead of the part that held the people. Not the most reassuring solution.

  The popping sound could have been one striking the K1, but I can think of something else that can make that sound...

  I call into my comm, "Commander Bennet? Peterson?"

  Nothing.

  The local ship-wide comm should at least be working. They're either choosing not to respond or can't.

  Procedure is for me to wait onboard the capsule until further notice and get the ship ready for launch. But nothing is going according to that book, so I'm just going to throw it out the window.

  I pull myself through the hatch into the docking module. We're at the base of the pylon where three other tunnels lead to airlocks. At the top of this junction is the long module that leads to the main junction that forms the nexus of the K1.

  I drift into the pylon and look up. Red warning lights splash across the walls of the station accompanying the siren. There's also a buzzer and a few other alarms sounding.

  This isn't like movies where you get just one general alert sound. Every important system has its own alert. The most critical ones involve fire and air supply. They're either telling you we have a fire, a depressurization event going on, or something is affecting the air supply like a material fire that could release toxic fumes.

  I pull myself up the module and spot a cabinet with air masks for use in case of an air quality issue. I notice that Sonin already opened it and removed one. I do the same.

  As I pull myself closer to the junction I can see that one module is completely dark. The one across from it has a blinking fluorescent light. Fluorescents in the age of LED lighting? The Russians are weird.

  Directly above me is the module that leads to the command section and the airlock where the EVA would take place. It's empty.

  I push myself into the dark tunnel. Tiny systems lights shine like green and red stars on the walls. At the far end there's a partially opened airlock door leading to another dark section.

  I drift towards there and something wet splashes me on my cheek above the mask. Even in the darkness I can tell what it is when I wipe it away – my fingertips are covered in blood.

  Fuck.

  "Hello?" I repeat the word in Russian, "Zdravstvuyte?"

  Nothing. However, under all the noise I think I can hear the sound of someone yelling.

  I glide towards the next module, pulling myself along by handrails and trying to dodge the floating drops of blood.

  T
hrough the gap in the door there's flashes of light.

  "Anybody there? Yest' kto tam?"

  Still no response.

  I pull myself into the next hatch. The air is colder here. There's a small breeze whistling through the gap.

  A beam of light flashes across my face, blinding me for a moment. When my eyes adjust, I can see the disc of light as it spins around the module. At the end of it is a small penlight floating by itself.

  "Hello?"

  Suddenly all the alarms are silenced and the flashing lights in the other modules go dark.

  Maybe the crisis is over?

  If so, where is everybody?

  I drift forward into the darkness, looking for any sign of life.

  If there had been a depressurization event I should feel a breeze – unless they sealed the hatch in time.

  In that case, everyone on the other side is either trying to patch a hole, unconscious or dead.

  CLUNK!

  Something bangs the wall in the next darkened section.

  "Hello?" I give up on translating myself.

  I reach the hatch at the end of the module. At first I think it's sealed, but notice that it's cracked slightly. If there was a hole in the station this thing would have closed up. This tells me the explosion I heard was something from inside – possibly from someone I know.

  My mind races through all kinds of possibilities.

  Bennet's talk before he and Peterson went aboard pretty much told me that some bad stuff was about to go down.

  He was also pretty specific that I wasn't supposed to leave the ship. And here I am.

  I push the hatch open so I can slip through.

  A blinding light races towards me and I hear a scream.

  10

  EMERGENCY LAUNCH

  A FLASHLIGHT SLAMS into the hatch next to me, spins in the air then catches Peterson as she flies towards me.

  Her eyes widen when she spots me. "Dixon!"

  She's out of her spacesuit and holding her hand to her side as blood pours from a wound, leaving globules behind her.

  "BACK TO THE SHIP!!!" she screams.

  I don't hesitate. I don't question.

  I flip myself over in the air and pull at the handles, hurtling myself through the airlock, checking back just once to make sure she's following me.

  When I reach the main junction, I yank myself into the pylon leading to the docking module like a dolphin diving into the ocean.

  As I fly towards the nexus, I steal a look behind me again. Peterson is twenty feet away, still holding her side. In the light of the module I can see her face is pale, real pale. She's lost a lot of blood.

  I slide into the Unicorn's hatch and maneuver over the seats to get to the first aid kit.

  Peterson reaches the airlock and stops there. She throws a small black square covered in blood at me. "Take it!"

  It wobbles towards me and I pluck it from the air without thinking.

  "Let me help you!" I go to assist her through the airlock.

  She pushes my hand away and shakes her head. "No time!"

  She starts to swing the hatch closed.

  "Wait! Where's Bennet?"

  "Bennet's dead." She slams the metal door before I can stop her.

  Through the small window I can see as she looks behind her. She grabs an emergency handle and pulls it.

  The interior locking mechanism automatically disengages.

  "Wait!" I yell.

  She hasn't shut the K1 docking hatch.

  Without that...

  BOOM!!!

  The capsule hull lurches at me, slamming the hatch into my head, making me see stars.

  I float there, dazed for a few seconds.

  When I come to my senses, I realize that she disengaged the docking collar while the other hatch was open.

  The explosion was the sound of the air popping the capsule out like a BB from an air rifle – ejecting the Unicorn and killing her.

  Seconds ago she was alive...

  No time to overthink. I can only react.

  I slide myself into Bennet's chair and try to stabilize the ship.

  The controls are now responsive. Did he have them triggered to come back after some kind of event?

  "Nashville, this is Unicorn 22, we have an emergency." My voice is calm, just like Bennet trained me.

  "Nashville, can you read me?"

  Nothing.

  The comm is still down.

  Something catches my eye from the side porthole.

  It's Peterson.

  Her arms over her head, red crystals of blood staining her white uniform; she looks as if she's diving into a pool of black.

  The Unicorn tumbles away from her while I sit stunned.

  Time goes by, Earth flashes past the window dozens of times. I finally stabilize the ship when I come to my senses slightly.

  There's a crackle on the short range ship-to-ship radio and a Russian accent commands, "American vessel, return to the K1."

  I ignore it.

  Christ. Peterson is dead. Bennet too.

  There was blood. Lots of blood.

  My space suit is still speckled with it.

  I realize I'm still clenching the black square and shove it into my thigh pocket then yank the Russian air mask off and slide on my space helmet.

  "American vessel, return to the K1."

  I'm not in a talkative mood right now. And I'm pretty sure I won't like what they have to say.

  "American vessel, return to the K1. Now!"

  I shut the radio off.

  This situation is so fucked, I don't even know how much. It could have been some bizarre accident or a damn international incident.

  I'm so lost in it I don't even notice at first there's a phone ringing from under Bennet's seat.

  Something went down. Something serious enough for Peterson to sacrifice her life.

  Ring.

  And now the Russians are yelling at me to return to the K1.

  Ring.

  Bennet told me something was going to happen. But this?

  Ring.

  Peterson's face as she drifted past the window. My god.

  Ring.

  All my training and nothing prepares me for this.

  Ring.

  What would Bennet do? Forget the crazy Bennet that may have just got himself killed. What would the guy that taught me everything about being an astronaut do?

  Ring.

  Be present. Focus.

  Ring.

  I unstrap and reach into the small tray under the cushion.

  It's an iPhone with a satellite antenna case.

  The display says "Unknown caller."

  I decide to answer it, rather than deal with the angry Russians. "Hello?"

  An electronic voice responds, "If you want to survive, do exactly what I say."

  11

  GROUND CONTROL

  "WHO THE HELL IS THIS?" I shout at the phone as if it will help. "What the fuck is going on?"

  "I'm the guy that's going to save your life. Pull up reentry profile eight."

  I load the eighth profile Peterson had programmed into the system. The tracking is all wrong.

  It has the ship coming down over Brazil.

  "What the..."

  "Why can't I just go back to Canaveral or Mojave?"

  "Take a look at the S.O.T."

  I pull up the Space Object Tracking map; a 3-dimensional model of all the different objects currently in orbit. Each one has a dot and ghostly outline tracing its orbit.

  "See those two dots that just moved from their orbital paths?"

  Two specks in Low Earth Orbit have moved away out of their tracks.

  "Those are Russian satellite killers. Each one is armed with a chemical laser that will burn a hole in your hull at the moment of reentry. If you try to land anywhere on US ground, you'll be a pile of ash before you hit the surface."

  "Why can't I talk to Mission Control?"

  "Right now Roscosmos is telling them that y
ou went berserk and used a smuggled gun to kill Bennet and Peterson before almost destroying the K1."

  "What? That's bullshit! I'll tell them I don't know what happened! They'll have to believe me."

  "Do you want to take that chance? And not everyone with an American flag on their lapel is your friend."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "Part of the reason Bennet and Peterson died is because not everyone can be trusted."

  "Why are they dead?" I remember the black square in my pocket. "What did Peterson give me?"

  "You'll live longer if you don't know."

  "Fuck you!"

  "Rotate your heat shield towards the K1 now!"

  "What?" I reflexively spin the Unicorn so the nose is towards Earth and the heat shield is facing the station.

  There's a flash on the heat shield sensor display. A portion of the underside is getting ridiculously hot.

  "What the hell is that?"

  "The K1 just fired a laser at your ship. Start your reentry now if you want to live."

  "Let me get a message to Nashville."

  "They can't help you."

  I watch the temperature climb on the heat shield. There's a red line point at which they can do permanent damage and I won't be able to land.

  If I hadn't turned when the voice told me, I'd already have a hole in the hull. If I survived the explosive decompression long enough to get my visor down, I'd still be stranded in space and my only chance of rescue would be the Russians who just shot at me.

  "Do it now, David." The electronic voice somehow conveys the sense of urgency.

  Fuck it. My life is over either way. I punch the button on the screen and the ship's rockets begin to fire.

  The K1 recedes behind me but the heat shield sensor stays steady.

  My trajectory still keeps my heat shield towards the station. At this altitude, I need about three minutes before the station is beyond the horizon and its laser is out of reach.

  After four minutes the reading goes back to normal and I rotate the ship towards atmospheric reentry.

  They tried to kill me. The damn Russians tried to kill me!

  The reentry profile has me doing an aggressive loop around the earth, slowing down in the upper atmosphere before beginning a steep drop over the Southern hemisphere, landing somewhere around the southern part of Brazil.