World’s Eye View – 27

It’s been a long time and finally I get a chance to come up for air and post the next piece of World’s Eye View.

 

Man that’s thin. How do you keep people thinking about survival and not about home? Answer:Keep them too busy to have time. Eugeni did keep us hopping like fleas on a hotplate. He was putting in twice the hours we were. Yeah I think he was trying to figure out the bombs when he died. So how do we figure them out? “I want to put a change of operations to a vote”, Thompson said. He stared at Kim. According to the rules, I something was offered up, everyone got to have a say. Kim had kept things in his favor by not giving anyone time. It grated, but neither Roels, or Thompson wanted to face Ingers if he got set off. That came under the ‘Really Bad Idea’ column in captial letters. “Very well, friend, David. What is your proposal?” Kim finally asked. “I vote we put someone on the Xian-Xi docking rings full time. That would give a person time and resources with the computers to figure it out”, Thompson replied.

I will take up the task”, Kim said gravely. “I was thinking Roels should be the one to do it”, Thompson countered. “We can vote on it right now. We’re all here”, he finished smugly. Kim glared at him. Not something you can win this time. If you don’t vote, then this all falls apart. Then we’re all finished. The vote went Roels, Shukla, and himself voting for the idea, Kim and Ingers against it. Kim took the defeat with ill grace, and left after the three raised their hands. “You think he’s going to try something to get back at that maneuver?”, Roels asked him as they drifted down the tube towards Salila’s cube. “I don’t know. It’s best to think a little paranoid, so, yeah, I’m half-expecting something. Probably Ingers”, Thompson said. God I hope he just lets it go. The voting’s working, so far. I don’t like it, but we’re starting to settle into a workable setup. So maybe it does have something going for it.

The next few days were tense, with Kim answering questions with a surly reply, and the voting becoming more and more complaint sessions. Fortunately, the complaints stayed in the sessions, and no one tried to push things outside the sessions. Roels set himself to digging into the system software, slowly working through the code, trying to locate what controlled the docking rings and the charges. Thompson, Ingers, and Kim worked on clearing the debris from around the smashed panels section, then detached the damaged section, cannibalizing the pieces for use as spare parts for the surviving sections. Through it all, Thompson could feel the two men watching his every move. He’d been watched by them for a while now, but this was different. He could almost feel Ingers gaze, like a predator sizing up a potential victim. He spent a few long evenings in the machine shop making a reinforcing patch for the damaged hull. He started twice, and had to stop as his mind wasn’t in making the proper cuts.

What’s different this time about them watching me? They did it before. What’s diferent this time? Thompson snapped his fingers. Kim. Kim’s the difference. Ingers was just shadowing people, nothing really threatening, he was hanging back. Now, it feels directed, like Kim might be asking Ingers to watch. If he did, does this mean he’s pissed at the fast one I pulled? He looked at the badly formed patch. Maybe I should make some protection. He straightened an edge of the patch, and took the long piece, grinding the edge down to a semi-sharp edge with a thin point. He got out the high-speed duct tape, wrapping the unsharpened end to make a grip. Once finished, he got a small magnet, placing it in his pocket.

When he reached his cube, he looked around, and decide on hiding the knife under the shelf, using the magnet to anchor the knife. God forgive me, this is really bad if I’m paranoid enough to make a weapon. What does that say about me? Am I paranoid, or unbalanced. I don’t think so. Roels, I wonder how Roels and Salila are doing? His schedule said that both Roels and Salila would be on duty, with Ingers. Roels would be sifting through the system code, while Salila would be scanning for radio signals. Ingers would be doing the daily visuals on the panels, and checking the reserve for leaks. That doesn’t mean he will. If I’m unstable, he’s downright spooky. I’m gonna keep it close, just in case. I can hide it under the jumpsuit by folding the top down.

He shifted the knife to a spot with easy hand reach next to his hammock-net, then settled into an uncomfortable sleep, waking at intervals through the night. The next day was more fitting for the patch. The job would have been much easier with the 3-D printer, but the powders to make spares had long run out, so the fallback was knocking the patch out by hand, which was much more labor-intensive. Compunding this was none of them had any practical experience as cutters or welders. Thompson volunteered for the job, figuring that both Ingers and Kim would relax if he was in one place for a day or two.

The welding and cutting finally finished after twenty hours of work. The patch fit over the dented area with some rough overlap. It took Kim, Ingers, and Thompson to hold the plate in the right position to begin welding. “Friend David, how long do you believe this welding will take? The air recycler in my suit is beeping”, Ingers said. “Once we get the first few welds in place to stabilize it, I can handle it myself. I’m thinking about a half hour for that. Weird. My recycler’s fine. Dial shows another four hours before it might need replacing. “Friend David, my recycler is running low, I’ll need to go in soon.” Both of them, with the same problem? “I hear you, can you hold on for a half-hour? With you and Ingers helping we can weld hold spots down.” “I understand, friend David”, Kim replied. Thompson got the first weld in place, then drifted up and to his right, snagging the plate Ingers and Kim were centering. He worked on the spot weld as the station orbited out of the sun and into the dark.

Possession is 9/10

Here is the start of ‘Possession is 9/10’.  It was a fun little story to write.

 

The day invaded my personal space with a gradual lightening of the comforting darkness. Next came the tortuous ringing of the bells on the alarm clock. That vicious little thing has it in for me. I tried to burrow deeper into the warm coverings and ignore the cutesy venomous ringing that threatened to drive a spike in my ears. Ten agonizing seconds later I finally started my day –- by bringing my clenched fist down on the offending noisemaker. Irritated strength overpowered the small mechanical brass contraption and the satisfying ‘crunch’ of flattening metal gave way to irritation. I was going to have to get another alarm.

Blessed sleep ran whimpering from the growing brightness and I sat up in bed, stretching my arms towards the ceiling and trying to keep them between me and the way too cheerful sunlight streaming in through the blue lace curtains on the floor-to-ceiling patio window.

Each morning can be an adventure. This morning I wake up after crunching the alarm, stretch, try to cover my eyes, and then turn and put my feet on the floor, only to find that the floor isn’t there. The bed I’m in hangs in mid-air with no visible means of support, and my head barely avoiding a collision with the ceiling as my senses start to tell me things are very wrong.

The night stand drops from the side of the bed, falling to the floor with a splintering crash. My feet dangle off the edge and the bed tilts dangerously as reality and gravity grab me by the throat and give me a solid shake as a good morning greeting. The bed falls stopping just above the floor and gently settles. My feet touch the floorboards and flinch away. The wood was like ice. I look down and the floor is ice –- at least a quarter-inch thick over the reddish cherrywood. My breath hangs in the air as puffs of fog from my lips. Just another day of possession for yours truly.

You heard right. Possession. As in something not ready to pass on hides inside a person hoping that it can coerce whom it possesses into satisfying a last lingering regret or desire before it rejoins the choir invisible and moves on to its reward or whatever place restless spirits go. Fortunately for me, I’m not the one who’s the possessed.

That would be my ferret, Imp. She’s what is called a ‘Siamese coated’. Her limbs are all a chocolate brown with a light tan body and a bandit mask. It’s striking actually. Not as striking as her chatter when possessed. If you’ve ever heard a child try to squeak out curse words while trying to control an out-of-control object, you have a good idea of what it’s like for Imp.

She has full control of her body, but the spirit can talk, usually screaming for Imp to slow down so they can talk to me and we can agree on a deal for their lingering business. After a negotiation of some mutually beneficial deal, we get about the business. Hey, stuff like this isn’t for free. I have to make a living too. Otherwise I couldn’t keep Imp in the style she’s accustomed to.

Like today, she’s sleeping on my bed, and came wide awake as it settled back to the floor. Her furry body launched off the bed onto the floor without a care in the world.

Me, I shiver in real cold and check the thermometer on the wall by the patio door. It says -10C and that I’m welcome would I like to hear the forecast for today? I decline with ill grace. I’m never happy unless caffeinated. That being said, it was obvious that a spirit was in desperate straits to use Imp.

Obvious, you ask? Easy to answer. If you note I said the bed was floating in the air. I didn’t suspend it from strings as a slight of hand trick. That’s expensive and more effort than I want to put out for anything actually.

To answer the second unspoken question I know you’re itching to ask; Why not me? Because I’ve no aptitude for psychic phenomena. Why a ferret has that kind of sensitivity is one of those things in the universe that no one has any idea. It just is. Imp was being her usual self, running to the food dish, finding it empty. Then realizing she hasn’t done her morning ablutions, and runs for her toilet. Once that’s done it’s back to the food dish, then to me to ask if I could please hurry up and feed her since she’s hungry thanks-ever-so-much?

I get there eventually, which is never fast enough, and get a scoop of ferret food for Imp. Then I can go about the real necessities, coffee for a wake-up, and eggs with bacon for me. Then I can get to the spirit in question. Said spirit was trying to talk around ferret crunchies and failing. Imp paid no attention to the funny noises while I waited patiently for her to finish eating and let the spirit communicate.

When Imp came over, I nodded at her, and she lay down in front of me, looking for all the world like a cat that had just claimed that spot for its own. I leaned over so the spirit could get a better look at me. Ferrets are notoriously near-sighted.

Hello, I’m Kat, that’s Imp. What can we do for you?”

Imp shifted lazily as the spirit tried to get a word in edgewise while she cleaned her belly fur.

I’m…ahh…Chuck Wuerley.” The spirit tried to gag as Imp started cleaning her butt. “Gah! Oh my god this is…ack! What are you doing?! stop! Stop!” His discussion was put on hold while Imp finished her morning ritual. She looked back up at me and the spirit recovered enough control to resume talking.

What is this? There’s this weird taste in my mouth.”

That would be Imp’s breakfast and some hair from her grooming. You’re in a ferret, by the way, not a person.”

The ferret continued to gaze up at me in what I suppose was stunned silence or ferrety satisfaction of a full belly and clean fur. You can never tell with spirits. Or ferrets. Some are okay with an animal possession. A few were ecstatic. Most are shocked and dismayed. Chuck seemed like the latter.

A ferret? What the hell is a ferret?! I rolled my eyes and walked over to my bathroom. I had a mirror on the counter next to the sink, and picked it up. I walked back out to the still motionless ferret, and plunked the mirror down in front of her.

It’s a rat. I’m in a rat. Why am I in a rat?”

Imp is a ferret, not a rat,” I said indignantly. “Get your mammals straight, doofus.” I waggled a finger right in front of Imp’s nose as I spoke. Imp took this as an invitation to a play fight. She leapt up, dooking and shook her head side to side as she rapidly backed under the bed while the protesting Chuck tried to scream at Imp to stand still.

Whoa! Stop! Stop! Dammit you little ass-wipe-fuzzy-stretch-rat stop! I need to talk the person. Stop dammit!”

Imp scrambled out from under the bed and pounced on my fingers, biting playfully at them as I flipped her over and tickled her belly.

Waah..ha..hahahahaha! Stop! It tickles! Haaahahahah!”

Imp dook’d happily and flipped back over. She scrambled back under the bed, ran out, then ran back under again as I moved toward her. Chuck was pleading with me to stop and listen to him after another five minutes. I stopped playing with Imp, who made a few lunges and back-aways from me, then seeing playtime was over, noodled over to my feet and lay on her side.

Okay Chuck. What’s your situation besides being dead and all. What do you need to happen to go to the great beyond?”

I want you to find my kid.”

Find your child? What happened? Did she run away? Or…?”

No no no no…nothing like that. I want you to find my kid. My baby goat.”

I couldn’t help it. “Say…what?”

The Deep End – Chapter 1

This is the first chapter of a Glass Bottles series spin-off novel detailing how Dean Youngwood garnered his reputation as a Private detective Hero in Halifax/Dayning in Nova Scotia (New Scotland).

 

“Hey Dean, how did the test go?” Carny Weston walked over to Dean Youngwood, giving him a fist bump as a greeting, and falling in next to him as Dean walked to his car. The sidewalk was full of pedestrians in a hurry to get lunch. The noon whistle had blown only a minute before Dean had exited Precinct Four after taking his test. He’d come dressed for the weather, and Dean was thankful for his bit of preparation. The snow was coming down thick and slushy, sticking to anything it landed on. The weather station had promised wet snow and the station had got it right. Dean smiled at Carny a little wistfully, then stuck his hands in his jacket pockets.

“You know, I think I did pretty good. But…,” he paused and Carny’s face fell. His blonde beard was already festooned with fat flakes that were threatening to turn his whiskers into an ice sculpture. Carny’s blue and black checked hunting jacket was doing much better, the snow giving Carny the look of a man with a completely out of control dandruff problem. His shoulder length blonde hair combined with his beard made him look like a modern viking.

Dean by contrast to Carny’s appearance, had short black hair irregularly cut, a testament to ‘don’t do this at home in a mirror’, and dark brown eyes that almost looked black. He’d put on weight since his days in the Canadian Air Force, and had a slight gut. His swarthy skin made him look piratical, but in fact Dean was a full-blooded Cree. He wore a pair of thick blue denim work pants, and a matching blue coat to protect him from the cold. His last name, Youngwood, was his adopted parents name. He chose it for his own despite some protests by fellow Cree.

“Aw man that s…,” Carny started to say, but Dean pulled a piece of yellow paper out of his jean pocket and held it in front of Carny’s nose.

“I think they believed so too, because they gave me this little piece of paper.” Dean smiled as Carny whooped and enveloped him in a bear hug.

“Way to go, man! Way. To. Go!”

He ceased hollering as people around them stopped and stared at the exuberant spectacle. Carny put Dean back on the ground and the two continued their walk back towards Carny’s pickup. When they reached the battered green truck, Dean glanced at Carny as he opend the passenger door, “How about lunch on me? I passed the exam, I think we should celebrate at ‘The Shake Shack’. I haven’t had a artery-clogging hamburger and fries for a couple weeks.”

Carny laughed, and opened the driver’s door.

“Sounds great! how ’bout we stop by Tim Horton’s afterwards to get a coffee and donut as dessert?”

Dean grimaced. “I’d love to, but I think I’ll pass on that. I can only handle so much decadence.”

“Wimp.”

“Guilty as charged.”

“Dammit, it’s no fun if you don’t insult back. Where do you get off being agreeable?”

“The same place you get off by trying to start something.”

Carny laughed again and pressed the start button on the dashboard. The vehicle rumbled as the engine refused to start, then caught with a roar. Dean settled back in his seat as Carny wheeled the vehicle out of the parking lot, and into lunch-hour traffic.

While they slowly worked their way towards their destination, Carny asked Dean, “So where are you going to hang your shingle?”

Dean stared forward out the windshield, watching the fat flakes of snow descend on the barely moving vehicles.

“I was thinking up around Shannon Park. The area is old and poor, but a lot of decent sorts there. I could probably get by.”

Carny looked over at Dean as though Dean had sprouted a second head.

“You’re nuts, you know that? I understand wanting to help people, but first you gotta get on your own feet. Helping people is good, but if you can’t keep a roof over your head, how you gonna help someone else?”

Dean shrugged, then looked over at Carny.

“You blew big holes in that idea. Yeah, I’d like to help out that way. Lots of folks could use a little help to solve problems. Hell, maybe solving the problems would fix something.” He sighed and turned back to watch the traffic in front of them. “But you’re right. If I can’t keep a place open, I don’t do anyone any good.” He turned his head towards Carny again. “So what would be your plan?”

Carny shrugged, then replied, “What about joining a detective agency for a bit. Get a name, take care of a few cases. Hunt down a few bail jumpers. Whatever. An agency would get your feet wet for a regular paycheck, and getcha experience without worrying about rent.”

Dean listened quietly. The traffic began moving once more and the two lapsed into silence for the three minute drive over to ‘The Shake Shack’.

After thy sat down with their food, Dean took a bite out of his burger.

“You’re angling for me to work with your cousin, aren’t you?”

Carny smiled and took a hefty swig from the straw in his drink.

“See? That’s why you’re the detective. You can figure things out.”

Dean shook his head. “I know you think your cousin’s a good guy, Carny, but I’m not sure he’d be the best one to work for starting out. I mean, he’s a skip-tracer, not a private investigator.”

“That’s why he’s perfect to work with. He’s been there, done that, and can give you pointers into how to use your newfound legal license the best way possible. It’s a steady paycheck, and you help by getting bad people off the streets.”

“And I have to track down people who’s only crime was that they can’t pay on their car, and I have to take it away, and they lost their job because they can’t get to work to pay bills and help their families.”

Carny’s face drooped. Dean figured he’d tried to be helpful. Carny was always trying to look out for friends. He and Dean had spent a hitch in the Canadian Air Force for four years as mechanics working on the old F-22 Raptors that had survived The Change. They’d gotten along and worked well together. Then became in-laws when Carny had married Dean’s adopted sister Carol. In the three years they’d been married, Carol had two pairs of twins. The first pair were girls, and the second were boys.

Dean shook his head. then took another bite from the burger.

“Say I join your cousin, do you get anything for referring me?”

“No, I just thought he’d be a good place to start.”

Dean nodded. “Okay. I’ll go see him. No promises. I’m still not certain that I want to do this, but you’re right, I have to start somewhere.”

“Cool! I’ll drive you…”

“Ease up Carny, I’ll drive over this afternoon. You need to get back to work, Carol’s probably going crazy with four crazed munchkins running around.”

Carny set his drink down and grabbed at his potato wedges, stuffing two in his mouth. he chewed, then swallowed.

“She probably is, eh? Carol’s a great mom. Though she’s got a temper.”

Dean shrugged. “Well, you would too with four kids in diapers and needing constant supervision. I bet she’s exhausted by the time you get home.”

“Yeah, she is.” He turned to look at Dean. “Speaking of that, wanna come by and spend time with your nieces and nephews? I could take Carol out on the town, maybe a movie, eh?”

Dean chuckled. “Okay, okay. I get it. When do you want me by?”

“How about five-thirty? I’ll be home by then and you can show up. the kids’ll love seeing you.”

“Yeah, I bet. My back’s still sore from the last time they loved seeing me.”

Carny chuckled and finished off the last potato wedge.

“You adore them as much as they adore you. Admit it for once.”

Dean shrugged, smiling. “What, and ruin a streak?”

Tia

This story is short and was hard to write because it is so much an attempt by me to deal through words with a currently ongoing situation.  Be forwarned it’s emotional.

 

TIA

The monitor next to the blue sheeted hospital bed beeped quietly. It measured its occupant’s heart rate, blood oxygen levels, and every fifteen minutes blood pressure. The figure in the bed was stocky and round faced. The thin bed sheets outlined an equally stocky body that seemed shriveled and shrunken. A hand, yellowed with jaundice reached out and upward as the man shook his grey-maned head slowly back and forth while drool slid from the left side of his head to pool and soak into the sheets tucked around his formerly thick neck.

Beside the bed, a slightly younger man with a small bit of black in his silver hair reached out slowly to grasp the uplifted hand. His freckled fingers wrapped the pale mottled ones, holding them still as the withered figure in the bed futilely attempted to free his hand.

“Easy dad, I’m here.” The voice seemed to calm the man. He released a soft moaning sigh as his eyes wobbled behind the closed lids. “I’m here. I’m here.” Karl Thorson raised his head, and looked are the artificial cheery bare white room, then back to his father, who was in the final stages of dementia.

He’s being taken by inches in front of me, and I can’t help him at all. He’s not been dad for a year now. Mom’s a wreck, I’m sick of this whole thing. God, please let him die. He’s hurting so much…he’s

“He’s not hurting. He’s dreaming.” the words, spoken right next to his ear had him jumping up and spinning around to face the intruder. The man…woman after another glance, peered back up at him with a faint lopsided smile. Her hair was dyed a grey purple atop her round head and short rotund body encased in green hospital scrubs. Her name, ‘Tia’ was on the white card pinned to her left shirt pocket.

She toddled past Karl to peer at the old man. She clucked her tongue as she arranged the bedding and smoothed it out while the man groaned softly. She laid her hand on his forehead, and he calmed at once. His eyes continued their restless dance behind closed lids but there was a softer movement now.

“You’re the one taking care of him? Thank you. I know it’s rough like this, and I can’t thank you enough for all the kindness you and the other staff have shown him.” She waved her hand between them as if gently pushing away the praise, and chuckled softly.

“Yeah, I’m doing my best. I’m Tia, by the way. Everyone calls me that.” She turned and peered at the old man again. “He’s in the final stage. Two, maybe three days. Then the body will shut down.”

“How can you be so certain? The doctors said it could be weeks, even months before the body turns off. With dementia there’s no way to tell” Karl said firmly, his eyes sharpening with anger. “What’s your degree in?”

“I’ve seen a lot of patients like your dad. There’s a lot of small clues, or ‘tells’, just like in poker. The body always gives itself away in situations like this” Tia went on calmly. Her confident manner slowly dampened Karl’s budding irritation. “I learned that a while ago when I first started this job.”

Karl turned back towards his father, then slowly settled back onto the small rolling stool still next to the bed. Ms Tia didn’t move away from the bed, and continued to rest her hand on the old man’s head. Once Karl was seated, she removed her hand and took a step back. Karl nodded at her and turned back to his dad.

“This damned dementia is killing him, and killing us too. We keep hoping for one last good day to say goodbye, but it doesn’t work that way. He’s just going to…” Tia interrupted him.

“You’re saying good bye all the time. You know what’s happening, and you’re getting to understand and make peace with him and his passing.”

Karl spun on the chair and angrily faced Tia. “You’re telling me this is a fucking goodbye? Just what kind of new age crap are you peddling? Get out! Get out and stay away from my father!” Karl shouted as he stood up, hands balled in angry fists as he stared at the stocky woman. How dare she tell me this is a goodbye. It’s not even close! It’s a living death and it’s robbing any chance of dignity for my dad!

He strode towards the door. I’ll get someone to take her out of here! Fraking bitch!

“He’s not in pain. He can’t remember it. If you look at it from another angle, you’ve got a chance to deal with his passing. A car wreck just takes him. No last words, no time, no chance to say something or clear the air. He’s just gone.”

Karl thrust his hand out at Tia, then swept it towards his father.

“It’s a damn sight better than this! This is a living death! Where’s the dignity in dying this way!?”

“Well,” Tia said calmly. “How is being torn in pieces dignified? How is the body’s natural function of evacuating its bowels dignified. Death is not dignified. It’s just death. The flesh quits working. Dementia allows you to come to grips with loss while they’re still alive. You get to say goodbye and they can hear it.”

Karl ground his teeth so hard the enamel chipped with a series of small pops.

“He would never remember it!” The intensity in his voice seemed to get through to Tia, and she fell silent and watched Karl like a bird watching a hungry viper. Karl stepped closer to Tia, body leaning towards her as he held his anger barely in check. Tia started to take a step back, then shifted her feet, planting herself firmly in place next to Karl’s father.

“You’re afraid. It got him, and you’re afraid it will get you too.”

Karl ducked his head as Tia hit his fear squarely. He raised it to stare angrily at her as she nodded to herself.

“Yeah, I’m afraid. I hate what it’ll do to my family when it happens.” He clenched and unclenched his hands agitatedly. “I wish I could have five minutes with it in a small room…just me, it, and a baseball bat.”

Now she did take a step back, but not from fear. This was an assessing glance, and Karl felt suddenly stripped bare. Tia held her gaze on Karl for what seemed like minutes, then said, “Deal, I’ll see you when you get diagnosed.”

Karl opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Tia seemed to shimmer and fade. A small heat shimmer floated above his father, who moaned then smiled softly at something only he could see. He gazed, open-mouthed at where Tia had been, then pulled out his cellphone, and dialed son Pearson’s number. What the hell just happened? He took a deep shaky breath, then another. Pearson answered on the second ring.

“Hey Pearson, it’s Dad. I’m gonna need my bat back…”

World’s Eye View – 26

I think we’re in trouble. The station wouldn’t ring like some bell from just a panel hit, would it? We might have lost something. Once the decision had been made, he called Roels and Salila over to man the cameras, and cycle through them to look for other possilbe damage. “I’ll help them button up”, He told the two. He took a look at Salila, then jerked his eyes away as his body had started to respond. God I gotta keep it under control. I couldn’t live with myself. He hurried away from the two and down to the airlock to help Ingers, and Kim.

The EVA inspection was thorough, and the information was bad. The main body had been clipped by something, and while there wasn’t a leak yet, the irregular dent would weaken the welds under the constant and extreme temeperature changes as the station passed from sunlight to darkness four times a day. Kim sat everyone down to discuss the options. “As it is currently, we are in no immediate danger. But as Ingers has pointed out, the uneven expansion and contraction will eventually pop the welds open, unless it is fixed immediately.”

Thompson was in his own thoughts as Kim talked. Should I or shouldn’t I tell Ingers and Kim? After all this time how do they no t know about the capsule? Vyhovsky never talked to them, o anyone about trying to get the Xian-Xi freed from the docking rings. Why is that? What made it so important to him that we didn’t know? I can’t figure that out. So, why haven’t I said anything? Because I’m paranoid that’s why. It’s a secret, and for whatever stupid reason, I’ve kept it a secret. He was pulled out of his self-examination by Kim’s next words. “Ingers looked over the Xian-Xi capsules during his EVA, as have I. It appears that comrade Vyhovsky, was trying to sabotage the capsules.” Roels and Salila stared at Kim like he’d grown a second head, Thompson felt himself go pale, and cold. “Sabotage?! What the fuck, Kim?!”, a voice yelled. Thompson looked around and then realized it was his own. What the hell? Sabotage? Where’s Kim going with this?

Yes, fiend David, I’m sorry, but ‘friend Eugeni’”, Kim almost spat the name, “has partially dismantled the docking rings. In the apparent hope of marooning us permanently. The rings have small boxes inside the exposed areas that appear to be some kind of small, disabling charge, according to Ingers’ inspection.” “Are you certain of that, Kim? Ingers, are you certain?”, Roels sputtered. “Explosive charges? Why? This is a science station, not an orbital missile battery.” Kim nodded. “In truth that is all the station is supposed to be. But who knows what Russia’s ideas for the station were with ‘worst-case’ scenarios? This place would be ideal as a missile defense item. The base’s orbit is four times around the earth in a twenty four hour period. The orbit is more pole to pole, than geosynchronous, or equatorial. One might wonder why, if one was of a paranoic disposition.”

Thompson stared at Kim, slack-jawed. You’re kidding, right? How is a station that barely has enough room for us, and in a particular orbit suddenly become part of a Russian military conspiracy? This is nuts. “H-how do you figure this? Have you gon all X-files on us Kim? That’s just, crazy”, Thompson finished. He looked at the others, and could see Roels and Salila leaning against each other, and talking in quite whispers. Ingers scowled at Roels, which Salila caught and shrank back against Benoit. Roels didn’t seem to see the look, but he hunched down as Salila clutched at his arm. He’s still terrified of Ingers. So am I. I don’t get how he can be so Ingers one minute an d so psycho the next.

He put the thoughts aside and listened as the others talked. Roels argued that there was no way Vyhovsky could have brought charges like that up with him without them being discovered. There seemed to be too many and to precisely placed for one man to get them all into the ring without his efforts being discovered. Salila said nothing and stayed close to Roels, and away from Ingers, who had begun to stare blankly at her, once more. Kim looked over at Ingers, who ducked his head and turned away. “So, what if it was put in place by the Chinese when they made this part of the station? I wouldn’t put it past them, or any country, to build in a few ‘safeguards’ in case some kind of conflict arises. Look at Russia with the Missile platforms they tried to disguise as nuclear communications. You don’t need a big bosster if the warhead’s in orbit, just a push at the right time.”

Kim glared at Thompson for a moment, then said with a sigh, “Yes, it could easily be that the devices were in place as part of the Chinese designed section.” He strightened up and projected his voice. “What it all means is we work together, and see if there’s a way to defuse the devices safely.” Thompson took a deep breath. Maybe it’s way past time to let the cat out of the bag, and fix this. “I think that was what Vyhovsky was trying to do. He’d uncovered the devices. Maybe that was why he’d kept the radio signal a secret.” Everyone turned to Thompson, listening. “How does one link to the other, friend David? Do you have a theory?”, Kim demanded. “Yeah I do”, Thompson replied. “Think about it. What if we did know about people surviving down there. The first thing we’d be doing is thinking about going home. We were in a debris orbit. IF we didn’t move the station, we’d have been perforated most likely. Look outside. It happened. We have no idea how high up we are except a computer’s best guess, since there’s no telemetry. We’re gonna burn up when the station finally drops to the edge of the atmosphere. I think he was trying to free the capsules by taking the rings apart. The bombs were a complication he hadn’t figured out.”

World’s Eye View – 25

The menace surrounded Ingers like a palpable aura. Even at his most contrite and gentle, Inges radiated violence. Barely caged violence. At the same time, Kim used Ingers as much as possible, banking on that intimidation to make his ‘democracy’ work. Thompson still hadn’t said anything about the docking ring and the Xian-Xi spacecraft. He was certain, somehow, that mentioning a way home would tip the fragile balance they had, and visions of Vyhovsky floating dead also kept him cautious and secretive. For whatever reason, he just could not get himself to reveal that.

Thompson floated back towards his room, and looked in on the communications station. Salila was there, along with a very attentive Ingers. Each movement she made, he almost mirrored exactly. It was a disturbing feeling Thompson had watching the unconscious dance. She kept shifting away, he kept closing the distance ever so subtly. A shift of motion as he floated, a slight twitch of a leg to change his facing. She was being subtly cornered at the station. “Hey Ingers?”, Thompson said, surprising himself. Ingers snapped out of whatever trance he’d been in, and gazed at Thompson with an almost thankful look. “He should be either taking a quick shower, or in bed”, Ingers answered quietly. Thompson nodded. “Okay. Think you’ll be ready to check the panel attitude systems tonight? We’ve missed that check a few times now.” Ingers eyes further cleared as he put his mind to the problem. Thompson thought he was losing himself again as he didn’t answer for nearly a minute. Salila, shifted back to the far side of him, and started checking the system as she’d been shown while Ingers floated in the center of the room, anchored by one hand. “Yes, I can do that”, He finally said.

Good, I’ll help you button up for EVA. Think around nineteen hundred hours?” Ingers nodded, and it seemed the old Ingers peeked out from his eyes. “Yes, that will work.” “Good”, Thompson said again. “I’ll see you at the airlock then.” He started to turn, then turned back. “Salila, Ms Shukla? Could you look in on Roels and re-bind those ribs of his? I’d do it but after six hours EVA I don’t want to take a chance on screwing it up.” Slalila looked up with thanks in her eyes as she launched past both Ingers and Thompson, through the hatch, and was gone up the tube towards Roels cube. Ingers looked as if he was going to follow, when Thompson spoke up. “Want me to help you with the channel search? It’s been a while since I’ve pulled duty here, the refresher course would do me good.” Ingers nodded, and then begain talking Thompson through the system.

Four hours later, Tbhompson had just gone to bed when there was a sharp vibration that set the station groaning from stress. Thompson was out of his netting, and scrambled to the camera station, flipping through the cameras one at a time to try and find the source of the sound. The fifth cameera showed the cause. The last three panels on the section they’d just shut down were torn away, the wreckage that impacted the panels, and the panels themselves were nowhere to be seen. Ingers bounced into him from behind. “What’s happened?”, he asked anxiously. “Panels got hit. Maybe a metorite, maybe space junk”, Thompson replied. He felt his shoulders tense as the camera displayed the damage.

We have good news and bad news”, he said. “The good news is that panel was the one we just shut down, so it’s empty of ammonia. We didn’t lose anything.” He paused taking a breath. “The bad news, look at how the panel’s damage is. I think the station itself may have gotten tagged. We need to EVA and check it out. There isn’t a camera that can check that edge.” He looked back to Ingers, who for the moment, seemed totally focused. “I’ll go. I can run the camera and snap some images. We can make plans. I want to check the antenna also. All the data inside says it’s normal, I want to check it outside and be certain.” Thompson shrugged, then said to Ingers, “You have my proxy for ‘vote’. Let’s get you buttoned up.” Kim, Roels, and Salila showed as the two started for the hatchway.

What happened?”, Kim asked them. Thompson listened to Ingers sketch out the situation. He sounds so normal fright now. What’s going on in his head? Thompson listened as Kim polled a quick vote from the others, and got a unanimous decision. Nothing like catastrophe to make us all pull together. Geez, what a world. His attention came up as something in Ingers speech started alarm bells. “Maybe I should take friend Benoit with me to look check for damage.” Benoit looked surprised by the request, and looked over to Thompson. No buddy, don’t go. Tell’em your ribs aren’t healed. Thompson shook his head minutely, hoping Roels caught his concern. Roels turned to look at Salila, who was hanging back from the knot of men, clearly staying well away from Ingers.

I think I have to decline”, Roels told Kim and Ingers. “It still hurts to twist and breathe. I don’t feel ready for an EVA.” He looked to Kim, who nodded slightly, then to Ingers, whose brows had furrowed down. He looked suddenly like a preadator whose prey had wisely moved out of range. Oh crap, what was he going to do? Ingers, what the hell are you thinking? “I will go with you, friend Ingers”, Kim said. “We all must, ‘step up’, as our friends say. Only in full cooperation can we survive.” Thompson’s teeth clenched at the blatantly political tone. Vyhovsky said the same thing, you ass. He focused, relaxing his features, and damping his anger before he looked up at the others. “That sounds like a plan to me”, he agreed.

Ordinary writing? NOT!

As a perennially amateur writer, I dream of writing a story that will entertain billions of people.  That brings me to today’s point.

All authors didn’t take up writing to be ordinary at it.  We all chose this medium as a chance to create something larger than ourselves and gift it to the world.  We’ve all told ourselves that if we enjoy the story, that’s all that matters.  This is true.  Sometimes the best stories are the ones we write for ourselves and no one else.  But there’s that little voice saying how great it would be to have our efforts, and skill at writing, recognized far beyond our own word processor.

We didn’t start writing to be ordinary at it.  We chose this as a way to be EXTRAORDINARY.  To leave a legacy.  How far that legacy goes has a lot to do with luck as much as skill.  That may be discouraging, but realize the only way to know is to keep writing.

World’s Eye View – 24

They could see Ingers shadow float to the edge of the hatch, and hover. Thompson and Roels looked to each other, then Roels nodded, and floated to the hatchway. He poked his head out the hatch and turned to look at Ingers. “Koll, how are you? Is there something I can help you with?”, Thompson heard Roels say.

I”, Ingers started. “I would like to apologize to Salila.”

“Ingers. Koll”, Roels replied. He started to say something else, then shut his mouth. He looked back at Salila, who shook her head.

“Say it from the doorway”, came her shaky reply. Roels nodded and backed up, wincing as his broken ribs shifted. Ingers bulk filled the hatchway. His eyes were haunted.

“I am s…sorry for my actions”, he said slowly, then he turned and floated back down the tube, towards the galley. Thompson looked over to Salila, who was pale. Her hands shook. She hugged herself to make the shaking stop. Roels moved to her and she clung to him like a drowning sailor clings to a life preserver. Roels looked to Thompson. He nodded and moved to the hatch, and gazed down the tubes left and right, checking to see if Ingers had decided to hover just around the corner. The corner mirrors showed clear corridors both ways. Thompson turned back to Roels. “He’s gone for now. I need to go to. I’m going to draft Kim to help me out, for maintenance until those ribs heal. Then you and I will start work on the docking ring.”

Roels looked at Salila, nestled in his arms, then to Thompson.

“Why didn’t you tell Kim about the docking rings?”

“I don’t know”, Thompson answered. “I think I was worried what Ingers would do if I mentioned it.”

Roels shivered. “I don’t see why, it might snap him out of what’s going on. Kim’s brainwashed him. I think you’d want him to hear it. Jar his mind. Maybe knock Kim’s control loose.”

“I don’t know if Kim’s really to blame”, Thompson said thoughtfully. “Did you look at him when Ingers started to line up on me? It was like he was scared of what might happen too.” Thompson stopped =, then started talking again. “It reminds me of a story my dad told me about some neighbors. The family had a Doberman. Beautiful dog, dad said, but spooky. It wouldn’t bark, it just stared at things. Always watching. One night a kid tried to break in and steal the TV while they were gone. The dog killed the kid. The neighbors came home, and found the kid all over the living room. They called the cops, then took the dog and got it euthanized. When my dad asked why, the guy told him that the dog looked at him like he was next on the list. So he took the dog and got it put down.”

Roels said nothing, and just stared vacantly. “That’s a messed-up story, David. If you wanted to scare me, you just did.” Roels hugged Salila tighter, and winced as her arms snuck around his waist, shifting his broken ribs. He paled and gasped, then hugged Salila tighter as she moved, keeping her tight against him. “Give me two days to rest, and I’ll start pulling shifts again. Just wrap my ribs tight before you try to stuff me in that suit. Getting in that thing is going to hurt, I’m certain.” Thompson nodded, then floated back to the hatch again. He looked once more at the corner mirrors for the intersections, and floated out into the tube, then propelled himslef down the corridor handhold by handhold. Why didn’t I tell Kim? That is a really good question. If Ingers went nuts, then there would be two of us to try and take him. God, if you’re watching, and you have some time, do you think you could bless us with a little luck? We’re gonna need some soon, I think.

Kim held the fitting in place as Thompson finished tightening down the blocking plate. With the Ammonia becoming less available, Kim, and Ingers had decided to cut back the ammonia flow to one hundred five percent of needed use. The idea was to limit the active panels and block the flow of the ammonia so that a reserve for emergencies could be maintained. The plates were easily jury rigged in the shop, pieces of metal being cut and drilled in a few hours. Seals made from a silicone completed the project, and now, they’d finished up the last of the three plugs. Through it all, both Thompson and Kim had worked in silence, talking only when needing to issue directions or ask questions.

Move the cap right, there”, Thompson said, then wtached as Kim gave the cap a half turn with the extension wrench.

“I felt the lands squeeze. It’s in place”, Kim gasped.

“Good”, was Thompson’s only reply. The two men carefully stowed all their tools in carrying nets, and clips on their suits. The walk back to the airlock was silent as each man scanned the panels for any damage they might have missed going out. Ingers was waiting at the airlock. Thompson thought he might not have moved at all since they left for the job. Ingers pulled Kim in first and helped him divest of the suit. Thompson slowly pulled his helmet off, then stowed it back in the storage netting. Once Ingers had Kim unsuited to the waist, he turned his attention to Thompson’s carrying belt, moving tools to a magnetic strip. Once empty the belt and harness came off, then the suit was slowly unzipped, and hung, ready for use. The internal cooling suit was stripped off, then moved to a sonic water shower, to clean out the salts and oils from the inside of the suit.

After cleaning, it was hung and the airlock closed, and the air pumped out of the airlock to boil off any excess liquid from the wash. Kim tapped Ingers on the shoulder.

“Go rest and help Ms Salila cycle through the channels again. See if she has found any other signals.” Ingers nodded, then propelled himself down the corridor. Kim sighed. “There is so much magnetic interference. I think many of the staellites NASA used for communication have been disabled. Salila gets occasional ‘blips’ of radio, but nothing solid. I am wondering if the antenna is worse off than we thought.” Thompson nodded, but didn’t answer. He didn’t trust himself to. He realized that whether or not Kim had intended to control Ingers, Ingers was more a bomb, than a gun. Kim was increasingly polite and even-voiced around Ingers. The feeling was of something building up, just like before Ingers and Vyhovsky fought.

World’s Eye View – 23

The screaming started and he was out the hatch, and caroming off the wall towards it. A few quick turns and he arrived at Roels cube. The screaming had faded to wracking sobs as he grabbed the handhold at the hatchway, prepared to launch himself at Ingers. He pulled up short as he saw Roels, clutching a shivering, naked, woman against him. As Salila clutched at his shoulders, Roels looked up, and saw him. “Roels? Is she…”, he swallowed drily as his eyes followed Salila’s supple curves. He shook his head. Get it out of your head, asshole. She’s been raped! “Is she all right?”, he finished lamely. “Better than I”, Roels said. I think I have broken ribs. It hurts to take a breath.”

How are we gonna keep maintenance up? I don’t trust Kim, and Ingers is great at it, but he’s not Ingers, he’s something seriously messed up.” Thompson watched Roels haunted look harden with anger as he discussed maintenance. “After this, travesty, should we even care about maintenance? I think maybe we should just let things fall apart. This is hell, and there is no way out.” Thompson looked at Roels. Everyone’s talking about how there’s no way off the station, but Vyhovsky figured out the docking ring. I gotta take a chance. It ought to pull us together. Oh slag that, David you idiot. The wound’s too deep. Still, it might be the only way off the hamster cage. I gotta ask though, why did Vyhovsky keep it from us? It doesn’t make sense. That would have brought us all together on a common goal. We’d be out of here and home.

Roels, there is a way off”, he said quietly. Roels blinked, and stared at him. “A way off. Why do you tell me now?”, Roels asked, suspicion thick in his voice. “Vyhovsky figured it out. He told me about it just before he died”, Thompson said quietly. “The docking ring has the Xian-Xi locked in place, and a software virus locked the ring closed. Vyhovsky was taking the ring apart a little at a time. Once the ring’s disassembled, the craft will float free, and it can be powered up to go home.”

Roels looked at Salila, and closed his eyes, holding her close against him. She struggled a moment, then sobbed harder as she clutched at Roels shoulders. Roels arms went protectively around her as he gazed up at Thompson. “You’re not just saying this to trick us? Disassembling the docking ring will work? What about traps?” Thompson grimaced. “I’m guessing there aren’t any. Even the most paranoid engineer has to draw the line between function, and blowing you sky-high.” Roels gave a bitter chuckle, and wrapped his arms tighter around Salila. Salila sobbing slowed as she was held, and her head came up. “I would rather they were trapped. I could die then, and escape my shame.” The bitterness and hatred poured out in the words, making Thompson shiver. “Get healthy Roels, I have to go, vote. Kim’s wanting to set priorities.”

Set priorities? Help me get there, and we’ll all vote. I’ve had enough of this travesty. We need to work on the Xian-Xi and the docking collars. I have had enough of this place.” Thompson nodded. “We all have.”

**

Thompson floated in the galley at the far side, as Kim, and Ingers conducted the meeting. Kim frowned at Roels making it to the meeting. Thompson thought he could see Kim trying to figure out the best way to control the meeting. Ingers, staring vacant-eyed at Salila, moved to sit beside her. Roels sat close, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders. Ingers reached a hand in her direction, then lowered it back to his side.

Now, let me bring this first full complement meeting to order. We have a number of things to discuss, and prioritize. First, there is the regular maintenance, then temperature control, and finally, consumables.” Thompson mentally muted out Kim’s voice as he studied Ingers. The big Swede seemed lost in himself. Thompson couldn’t decide if this was due to being close to Salila, or guilt from previous actions. Is the real Ingers still in there? He said it was like things were flipping on and off, and he didn’t have control. Did Kim screw with his mind somehow while he took care of him? If he did , what and how did he do it? Can it be fixed? Who’s gonna fix it? Kim never would. I don’t know how, and Roels, I don’t know about Roels. Whatever this situation is, our job is to get home now that we’re on the same page.

Thompson raised his hand. Kim stopped his talk to stare directly at him. “What is it David?”, he said, sounding like a schoolteacher lecturing a troublesome student. “There’s another priority. Getting home. We need to get home and off this station. Put that in the list.” When Kim hesitated, Thompson raised his voice. “Put it on, and let’s vote on our priorities.” Ingers eyes flicked to Thompson as he spoke, and flexed his hands, clenching and unclenching them. Oh shit. Did I push my luck too much? He watched Ingers float over to the left of Kim, giving him a clear line of travel to Thompson. “I do agree that we should arrange our priorities, friend David”, Kim said quietly, his own eyes on Ingers movements. Thompson noted that Kim seemed to pale, as if he too, feared Ingers unpredictable reactions. What if Kim didn’t do anything? What if the whole thing is Ingers? Thompson tried to turn the thought over, but the vote was called for. Kim set two priority lists. Maintenance came up on ‘what needed to be done immediately’, and going home went to the top of the ‘overall priority’ list.

Roels watched Thompson with increasing agitation as Kim droned on, arguing ranks in the priorities. Finally, when Kim finished, he nodded with his head for Thompson to follow him. Ingers was staring hard at Salila, who sandwiched herself between the two men. They reached Roels’ cube, where all three spread out in the room, staring at the one entry hatch.

World’s Eye View – 22

Do what about temperature control?”,Thompson asked. “It needs to be changed”, Kim answered him gravely. “Currently, it is too warm, we do not have the luxury of having it kept heated. We must save energy to extend our time here. We need time to find out how to leave.” “We don’t have that luxury either”, Thompson countered. “Any colder and we start needing more calories to stay warm. More cloaries needed means the food runs out faster. And of the two, energy or food, we have a LOT less food than energy.” Kim’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t like being outmanueverd in a logic match. Thompson knew it was goin to come to another ‘vote’, and the temperature was going to be lowered, but he hoped that something o the argument would get to Kim. We need to think of both sides of the equation, Kim. Come on, please, follow the logic, figure it out.

Kim motioned to Thompson, and Ingers quietly floated away down the corridor after securing Thompson’s boots on the magnetic pad. “Friend David, You hold me responsible for what happened to Vyhovskey. I know this. It’s obvious if one pays attention to your reactions and manner of speech.” He grabbed a handhold, re-directing his travel slightly to avoid bumping Thompson. “When They started fighting, I was shocked. I never thought Ingers capable of such violence. And Vyhovsky breaking his neck on the edge of the table. A tragic accident. I wanted all of us to have a say in what happened to us. We deserve that right up here. We did then, and we do now. Moreso after the tragedy. We have to get things pulled together, friend David. If we stand apart, we will fall apart. We must be all focused of purpose, we must be all striving towards….”, Kim stopped.

David watched Kim as the man pulled his emotions back into check. “Everyone must work together”, he said, his voice returning to it’s more solemn tones. “What about Salila? Does she get a say? She of all of us is the one really out of place. What about her?”, Thompson challenged. “She has a say, and is serving in the best capacity her stature allows”, Kim replied evenly. “It doesn’t matter the type of job, so long as you serve the greater good.” Thompson just stared at Kim. How can you say that? He fought the urge to punch Kim in the face, fearful that if Ingers was nearby, the punch would set him off again. “You’re out of your tree, Kim. I heard from Roels what happened!” He threw his hands out, gesturing angrily, and started spinning slowly from the motion.

How could you do that to her!”, He yelled. “How could you?!” Kim seemed to measure the difference between him, and Thompson, then delivered a sudden slap to Thompson’s face. Thompson spun with the force of the blow, and hit the wall corner down and away from Kim. “Because it is the only way!”, he yelled back. “It is the only effective way we have to reduce stress!” Thompson snorted at the absurdity, and saw Ingers, float into view behind Kim. Ingers seemed wholly focused on him, so Thompson didn’t move, other than to hook a hand thorugh a holdfast. “Have you even read how sex is a natural relaxant?! The intimacy literally calms the fires in a man’s soul! It’s why rapists attack women. Power and control. They control their emotions through the act! Whatever other depravity there is, it is still a method of emotional control!” Kim’s words made Thompson sick to his stomach with revulsion. What the hell are you, Kim?! Who justifies rape as a method of relaxation?!

Our passions were tearing us apart! There needed to be some displacement of them before a tragedy happened. And look around you! Where’s Vyhovsky?! He’s dead! DEAD! Killed because all of us are unbalanced from all this stress of survival! Lost with no way to go home! Where is the release! Where is the control?! It’s her! She is the control, and the release. She can keep us all sane! That is her function here.” Ingers floated forward towards Thompson, and held out a hand. “Let me go with you to your cube, friend David”, Ingers offered quietly. “We’re all stressed and damaged inside. Frined Kim has shown me that. I don’t want to hurt a friend.”

I don’t want to be hurt either, Ingers”, Thompson replied. Ingers eyes had a haunted look, as if he knew all of his crimes, and knew there was no salvation no matter how he tried to find it. It tore at Thompson’s chest to see him like that. Vyhovsky called you the best of us. God dammit Koll, what flipped you over the edge so bad there’s no coming back? Vyhovsky lost his family too, and he kept it together. Why not you?

Thompson shook his head and ignored Ingers hand. “I’m fine Koll, you better get on maintenance. Right now there’s just three of us to do it.” “We still need to vote, friend David”, Kim reminded him. Thompson ground his teeth, and keeping his face away from Kim, he nodded , and said, “Okay.” He pulled himself into motion and floated down the corridors to his cube, where he closed the sliding screen. He hooked his legs into a ergo chair, and stared at the small computer screen on his desk. He popped open his mail, and watched the last video his fiance’ had sent him. When the video finished, he started it again, and again, as he tried to lose the sense of horror that whispered in the back of his mind.