My Sweet Satan

by Peter Cawdron

  “Science lab,” Jason whispered.

  “—Science,” Jasmine cried. “You're right on the edge of the science module.”

  “Can't turn around on the tether,” Nadir complained, struggling to talk. “I need to be able to see beside me, behind me. I'm blind out here. We should have shut down the goddamn engines!”

  His voice sounded panicked, as though claustrophobia was closing in on him. Jasmine felt helpless. She didn't know what she was doing. She didn't know how she could help him. She could see his feet pressed hard against the curved hull of the Copernicus. He was moving in short hops, slowly letting his tether out as he descended the cold, stark exterior of the craft. He looked clumsy, awkward.

  Light gleamed off the side of his helmet. The scrunched folds in his white space suit didn't seem to afford him much flexibility. His gloved hands looked useless. They were too thick to work with the tether. It was clear the tether wasn't intended to be used like this and was probably only designed to provide a lifeline in a weightless environment.

  She could hear his heavy breathing. Repeated soft grunts spoke of physical exertion.

  Jasmine zoomed in. For a moment, she could see sweat beading on his forehead, but Nadir was moving erratically, dancing in and out of the camera frame. She pulled back, struggling to think in three dimensions. The view before her appeared to extend straight ahead in front of her, and Nadir looked as though he was hopping backwards on the smoothly curving sheet metal of the hull. She had to change her perspective, to picture him moving vertically and think about what he was struggling with. She had to anticipate what he needed to know.

  “You're coming up on some pipes in about five feet,” she said. “Running east-to-west behind you.”

  “How many?”

  “Ah, there's three or four bundled together. Each as thick as your leg.”

  “Got 'em.” Nadir replied, and she watched as the back of his boot came in contact with the first pipe.

  “Can I clear them with a leap?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “They're no more than a foot or so high.”

  “Copy that.”

  Nadir flexed his legs and sprang out, letting his tether run as he sailed away from the hull for a moment. He drifted slightly sideways in the vacuum of space. In his bulky white suit, he looked more like a puppet than an astronaut. He came down on one leg and bounced a little on the far side of the pipes.

  “How far to the communications array?”

  Judging distances was difficult. The long shadows cast by the engine flare hid sections of the craft in darkness. At times, Nadir would pass between her camera and the engine, the camera would automatically adjust to the loss of light, only to be blinded momentarily when he moved again and the bright flare coming from the engine bell swamped the camera lens.

  “Can you see Mike?” Nadir asked.

  Jasmine panned the camera.

  “Yes. He's working with some kind of blowtorch. I can see sparks.”

  “How far?” Nadir repeated.

  “I think you're almost there. No. It looks like you're halfway.”

  “Which is it?” Nadir snapped.

  “I don't know,” Jasmine felt panicky. “Maybe another ten to twenty feet. It's hard to tell.”

  Nadir increased his pace, dancing with his feet as he bunny-hopped backwards, lowering himself down the outside of the spaceship. As he moved further away, Jasmine found it more and more difficult to judge what he was approaching.

  “You've got some kind of junction box to your right. No, my right, your left. Be careful you don't catch your shoulder or the tether on the edge.”

  “Copy,” Nadir replied, spitting in to his microphone as he spoke.

  A few seconds later, he added, “I'm here.”

  The communications array was a scaffolding of tubular pipes running out horizontally from the side of the Copernicus, reaching almost fifty feet beyond the spacecraft. Had the Copernicus been an airplane, such a flimsy structure would have been ripped off by the wind, but in space there was no need for aerodynamics, and Jasmine could see the purpose of the array was to position the communication dishes well away from the engines.

  Mike was out there. Flashes of light lit up his space suit as a flare arced from a welding tool he had pressed against the base of one of the dishes.

  “Patch me into the audio feed,” Nadir said.

  Jasmine wasn't sure what he meant for her to do and started to reply, but Chuck cut in over the top of her.

  “Patching you through.”

  “—need to do this,” Mei said. “Just come back inside and let's talk about this.”

  “Talk will get us killed,” Mike replied.

  “I can't let you do this, Mike,” Nadir said, and Jasmine watched as Mike turned to face Nadir. The two astronauts were separated by no more than thirty feet.

  Nadir worked his way along the structure, moving hand over hand in his pristine spacesuit, still letting out his tether.

  Mike adjusted his position, turning so his helmet faced the approaching astronaut. He kept working with his blowtorch, increasing his efforts.

  “You're scaring me, Mike,” Jasmine cried, not sure if she was transmitting or not, but feeling she had to say something. By repeating what Mei had said earlier, she hoped she was giving some credence to Mei’s plea.

  “Stay out of this, Jazz,” came the curt reply from Mike.

  “Listen to your wife,” Mei pleaded. “Think about what you're doing. There's no going back from this. Think about the rest of us. Think about everyone you love back on Earth.”

  “That's why I'm doing this,” Mike protested as arcs of light flashed off of his gold visor. The dish he was working on rocked forward and with one last cut from his torch it came free and fell rapidly away from the craft. Within seconds, the reflective, silver frame vanished into the darkness.

  “Damn it, Mike,” Nadir yelled into his microphone. “You’re insane. You’ve got space fever. You’ve gone crazy.”

  “Stay away from me!” Mike cried, cutting into a circuit box with his welding tool.

  Nadir edged closer, working hand over hand along the boom. Cross members and braces cut in at various angles, supporting the flimsy structure. His tether caught on part of the frame and Jazz could see him pulling against it, trying to free the line. With a few whips of his hand, the tether came lose and he kept working his way along the communications array. His thick boots looked clumsy on the frame, as though at any moment he would slip and fall.

  Another piece of equipment fell away into the night, with red, glowing, molten blobs trailing behind it into the darkness. Mike moved further along the structure.

  Mike had his back to Nadir. In the cramped confines of his spacesuit and bulky helmet, he had no way of seeing anyone behind him. He had turned off his welding torch and was trying to climb up onto another section when Nadir caught up to him. Mike was using a local tether not unlike a mountain climber switching ropes between pitons. While Nadir’s tether led all the way back to the main airlock, Mike’s was clipped on to a crossmember beside him, slowing his progress.

  Jazz watched in horror as Nadir grabbed Mike’s tether and yanked it. She wanted to call out to Mike, to warn him, but she couldn’t betray Nadir, and so Mike was taken by surprise. He swung around, almost falling from the structure.

  Jazz could see the two astronauts wrestling with each other in their thick space suits, each trying to force the other off-balance.

  The welding torch flared against the pitch black beyond. Mike and Nadir were both struggling to gain control of the torch. Jazz could see Mike was trying to sever Nadir’s tether. She was horrified. Without consciously thinking about what she was doing, her gloved hand pushed against the smooth glass of her helmet as she raised her hand to her face in anguish.

  “Stop it!” she yelled. “Mike, no! Don’t do this!”

  Her cry came too late.

  The blue flame from the welding torch flared as it caught Nadir’s tether.
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  Nadir fell.

  “No!” she screamed, watching as Nadir tumbled backwards awkwardly in his spacesuit, falling on his life support pack. In point-six gravity, everything appeared to unfold in slow motion. Nadir grabbed frantically at the structure with his hands as he slipped to one side, but he couldn’t stop his fall. His legs swung down and he ended up gripping the lower support strut with his legs dangling below him.

  Mike lunged at Nadir, throwing the welding torch at him. The torch bounced off Nadir’s shoulder, leaving a dark burn on the pristine white fabric before it sailed off into the darkness.

  The two men were yelling at each other. Jasmine couldn't make out what either man was saying. To her, there was a mass of noise and confusion. She could hear Mei and Chuck yelling on the radio channel as well. The confusion was overwhelming.

  Mike was down on his knees. Jazz could see his tether pulled tight behind him as he struck out at Nadir. The camera angle was wrong. She couldn’t see beyond Mike’s bulky backpack and helmet as he clambered along the boom above Nadir.

  For a second, she lost sight of Nadir. Mike shifted in his imposing spacesuit and she could see Nadir again. He’d slipped. Where previously he’d been gripping the structure at chest height, now he hung helplessly beneath the boom, holding on with his gloved hands. Under constant acceleration, his spacesuit and life support system must have felt as though it weighed the best part of a hundred pounds or more. There was no way he could hold on for long.

  Mei was yelling, “Shut it down! Shut down the damn engines!”

  Both Jason and Chuck were yelling something in reply, something about a rapid shutdown causing problems.

  “Please no,” Jasmine yelled, pleading with Mike, but only adding to the cacophony of voices. “Don’t do this.”

  Suddenly, there was silence as a white-suited astronaut fell into the distance.

  As Nadir passed through the engine exhaust, there was a slight flare followed by a burst of white light as bright as any star. Nadir’s spacesuit was consumed by the plasma coming from the fusion drive. Behind him, his tether coiled and whipped, splaying through space as it too passed through the engine flare. The tether writhed as though it were in agony, being vaporized by the exhaust.

  No one spoke.

  Mei sobbed.

  Nadir was gone.

  Chapter 06: Lost

  Jasmine felt numb.

  Jason told her how to close the airlock and initiate re-pressurization.

  No one was transmitting on the radio, leaving her isolated in the claustrophobic confines of her spacesuit. They must have been talking, but she’d been cut off. She used her heads-up display to switch between channels but there was no one speaking. Not from Mike, not from Chuck, Anastasia or Mei. Jasmine thought about asking Jason to patch them through with his omniscient ability, but that felt cheap, like a party trick. Jasmine felt as though she should have been able to do this for herself and stubbornly refused to ask for help.

  The last glimpse she’d had of Mike was of an astronaut entering a hatch near the fuel pods above the engine, and she realized that that airlock must have led into engineering.

  As she stood there watching the large red light beside the hatch fade to yellow she felt strangely light-headed. The weight of her spacesuit seemed to fade. The pressure on her legs and feet lessened and she thought she was imagining things. Finally, her boots lifted gently off the floor and she found herself drifting inches above the floor.

  “Burn complete,” Jason said. Even his words sounded numb. She could have been reading her own emotions into his words, but she didn’t think so. Jason wasn’t his usual chatty self, she noted.

  What should have been a magical moment for her was sullied by the loss of Nadir. Jasmine barely knew him, yet she felt as though she’d lost a loved one. Guilt swept over her. Was there something more she could have done? What would the real Jasmine have done in her place? Could Jazz have helped?

  The colored panel turned green and Jason said. “You can remove your suit.”

  Jasmine didn’t reply.

  She worked backwards, starting with her gloves and then her helmet. She watched them drift in front of her, just inches from her face as they tumbled slowly through the air. Without realizing it, she’d drifted upside down and had to right herself before she could back up to the empty station in the row of life support packs. No sooner had she bumped up against the station than a set of mechanical grappling hooks grabbed at her backpack, and they straightened her up so she was flush with the floor and gently pulled her backwards. In seconds, she was floating again, free of the backpack.

  The silence within the airlock was deafening. She breathed deeply, releasing the lock on the waistband and slipped out of the upper torso of the suit.

  Jasmine caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror mounted on the far wall. The lower half of the spacesuit looked absurdly large on her small, petite frame. Had she been in a better mood, that sight would have caused her to laugh, but she couldn’t bring herself to smile, instead a ragged, bloodshot Jasmine stared back. A sense of gloom hung over her.

  Once she’d removed her boots and the leggings, she stowed the various sections of the suit where she’d found them. The absence of one suit from the rack was painfully obvious, a blight within the airlock. A profound sense of loss swept over her.

  Jasmine dressed in her blue jumpsuit and drifted toward the inner hatch. A tiny red light blinked beside the handle.

  “Jason?”

  “Still pressurizing,” he replied. “I’m sorry. It’s a mechanical system. There’s no override. You have to wait until the pressure equalizes and the atmospheric mix matches that in the main cabin.”

  Jasmine clenched her right hand into a fist. She wanted to strike out against the hatch in frustration, but it was a pointless gesture. Like everything she’d been through since she awoke from hibernation, nothing was in her control. She doubted herself. She didn’t want to be here, and yet what she wanted was irrelevant. She felt helpless, lost. Tears welled up in her eyes, refusing to run down her cheek as she floated there before the hatch. She wiped the tears away, flicking her fingers in frustration and watching as tiny droplets soared from her fingertips.

  A slight buzz sounded deep within the hatch and she could hear the lock opening.

  Jasmine grabbed the handle and pushed, but in a weightless environment all she succeeded in doing was pushing herself away from the hatch. She still had a hold on the hatch handle, so she didn’t drift away, but she had to think about what needed to be done to open the hatch. She had to get some leverage by holding on to something around her. There was a bar mounted around the edge of the hatch, much like a circular curtain rail in her college dorm showers. Jasmine hooked her feet beneath the bar and held on to the bar as it curved up around her. Pushing with her right hand, while pulling on the bar with her left, the hatch opened smoothly in response to the weary exertion of her muscles.

  She drifted into the empty command deck. Weightlessness was a welcome return, feeling more natural than it had previously.

  Cargo nets stretched out over one portion of the deck with the supplies from the lock stowed beneath them. Behind her, one of the gloves she’d been wearing drifted out of the airlock, followed by her tight undergarment. In space, life was invariably messy, but Jasmine didn’t care.

  A red warning light flashed beside the open airlock, so Jasmine closed the hatch, twisting the handle until she could feel it lock in place.

  “Where is everyone?”

  “Engineering,” Jason replied.

  She drifted through the command deck, astonished at how different the craft looked compared to when they were under power. The illusion of gravity had changed everything during the burn, and now the Copernicus had reverted to itself. The Copernicus seemed to have a personality of its own, almost as though it preferred drifting through space to accelerating.

  Before she could head down the shaft toward engineering, Jasmine felt her stomach rumble. Sh
e could feel pressure building in her bladder and the movement of her bowels. She wasn’t sure whether this had been brought on by the change to a weightless environment or if Mei’s drugs had finally kicked in, but she needed to relieve herself.

  Jasmine was frustrated. For a moment, she thought about pushing on. She desperately wanted to find out what had happened, but she knew that would be a mistake. Nature would take its course whether she liked it or not. Annoyed, she drifted over to the back of the deck and pulled on the plastic accordion cover, revealing the bathroom where Mike had shaved.

  “On the right,” Jason whispered. Jasmine felt it was a little creepy having a computer anticipate her personal needs, but he was correct. There on her right was a flat panel marked toilet. She pulled on a small silver handle and a toilet seat unfolded from the wall. The bowl looked small, and there were a number of tubes and pipes with openings she dared not think about. Reluctantly, she wriggled out of her jumpsuit. Floating there in her underwear, she figured modesty was a luxury in space.

  Jasmine spun around and positioned herself above the flimsy seat. She grabbed at a strap that was clearly intended to hold the astronauts in place as they went about their business, and pulled it around her waist.

  “You place the cup over your—”

  “Thanks,” Jasmine said swiftly and rather curtly. “I’ve got this.”

  Although the command deck was empty, she pulled the accordion plastic cover across in front of her, sealing herself in the cramped confines of the bathroom. Was it to hide from Jason? Or was it simply because going to the bathroom had always been a private affair? Perhaps a little of both, she thought. Thankfully, the various parts within the toilet were well labeled with words that were unambiguous: urine, feces, waste cloths. With everything in place, she could finally relax and relieve herself. Mei was right about the color of her pee, she noted, watching waste fluids being sucked through the semi-transparent pipe leading away from the toilet.

  She cleaned up and pulled the accordion panel back, half expecting to see someone in the command deck, but she was still alone. Although Jason was always with her, never more than a comment away, she couldn’t think of him as alive in a human sense. He had no point of presence, no means of engaging visually. Whenever he spoke, it always felt as though she was talking to someone in another room and not someone physically present with her.