Category: Teasers

World’s Eye View – 20

Drawers on the desk were pulled loose and floated in the room, slowly pinwheeling. Broken pieces of plastic were alsmot still in the air, having beld off any momentum before he appeared. Cupborad doors were open, one was broken off, and floated near the back of the room. Thompson’s eyes moved to he net-hammock. Roels was tied into it. He looked so bruised that Thompson thought at first he might have been killed. His heart started to hammer like it wanted to burst free, but when Roels turned and moaned painfully, the relief all but had him faint. He moved slowly to the hammock, and looked Roels over.

One eye was swollen shut, and his face was bruised on his left cheek, and a second deep colored bruise peeked out luridly from the neck of Roels’ jumpsuit. Working slowly down his body Thompson noticed the little finger swollen and bent at an unnatrual angle. It had been dislocated. I wonder if Ingers did this to him? I can’t see Kim pushing himself to this kind of violence, and I know Salila could never do this kind of damage. That leaves Ingers. Then again, I never thought Kim or Ingers would do what they did. Keep on you toes, Davey. This doesn’t look at all like it’s over.

“Roels”, Thompson whispered urgently. “Roels, what happened?” Benoit Roels turned his head slowly, the one good eye opening a crack, then widening as he recognized Thompson. He started to speak, and Thompson put a hand to his lips and held a finger to his own, telling Roels to be quiet. Once Roels nodded, he took the hand away, then checked the hatchway for shadows before leaning in to whisper. “What happened? Did Ingers go crazy?” Roels blinked as a tears formed in both eyes, and sat right in the corners, growing into larger drops until Roels shook his head to dislodge them. “Kim”, he whispered back. “It was the Korean bastard. He said that Ingers was stressed, that he needed some kind of release.” His features hardened. “He looked right at us, and said that the best way to remove tension was … intimacy.”

Thompson fought down a surge of bile. He felt sick. “Intimacy?”, he said. “With Salila?” Roels nodded miserably. “I tried to fight but Ingers went crazy. It was like hearing those words flipped a switch in him, he jumped me faster than I could react.” Roels stopped talking for a long moment, his face twisted in pain and anguish. Tears formed again on his eyes. Little salty blobs of water that floated away when he jerked his head to the side. “I dodged towards Kim. I wanted a piece of him before Ingers got to me.” Thompson wondered himself if he’d have made the same move. I should have stayed, God above I should have stayed. Roels opened his good eye and stared at Thompson. “David, what do we do now? Eugeni is gone. I think Kim had Ingers put the body in the storage unit. God knows how they’ll get him to fit, and God knows I don’t want to know.” His good eye pleaded, stabbing Thompson with more guilt. “What do we do, David?”

Thompson slowly reached to undo the knots holding Roels in the netting. “First let’s get you out of this restraint.” “Don’t!”, gasped Roels quietly. “My shoulder’s mess up and I have cracked ribs. Kim tied me in here to ease the strain on the bones. He told me Ingers will come by in ten hours to get me food and water while the muscles recovered from the trauma.” He winced as he tried to laugh, the motion seeming brittle, and empty to Thompson. “We have to give in now. We can’t fight them. Kim’s got everything under his finger. He ‘s got the keys for every locker and storage unit. He controls the food and water. We don’t have control of anything.”

Thompson ticked off the points in his head. Food. Water. Air. Temperature. “We’ve got control of a few things yet”, Thompson told Roels. “Both you and I are better than Kim and Ingers EVA. This place needs maintenance. Continual maintenance. We can trade that for a little ‘wiggle room’ here and there. This may be hell right now, but it’s going to stabilize, and we can do something about stuff when it does.” The words sounded hollow in his own ears, but Roels seemed to gather a little strength from them. “Yes, we can. I don’t know what you’re thinking of, David, but count me in. I have to make up for how I failed to protect Salila. I have to rescue her.” “We”, Thompson said. “We, have to save her. Hell, we have to save ourselves.”

“What’s the first move?”, Roels asked him. Thompson started to speak, but quieted. He glanced back as a slight thump was heard in the corridor. A shadow moved across the wall as Ingers stopped himself in the hatchway. He looked at both Thompson, and at Roels. Thompson tensed, and braced himself, handhold overhead and both feet tucked against the wall. Ingers, floated slowly into the room, staying well away from Thompson, and moving to the back of the room. He then slowly pushed towards Roels. “It’s time for the Ibuprofen and muscle relaxants”, he said quietly. His eyes never looked up to Thompson. “I am sorry, Benoit. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I can’t control anything.”

Thompson watched Ingers as he offered Roels the capsules. Roels took them, then Ingers held up a bulb of water to his lips, letting him drink. “Friend Kim says you will be rested enough to move about tonight. I will come in to untie you so we can check your injuries.” God, he’s a shell. What happened to you, Ingers? Ingers eyes moved to meet Thompson’s, and what he saw in Ingers eyes made him shudder. The man was empty, completely. The eyes said the lights were on, the vacant, glassy look said no one’s home. He wondered how he was able to function. Then the eyes changed, becomking almost feral in suspicion. Ingers lips started to draw back from his teeth in a snarl, as Thompson pushed back from Roels bed, and grabbed a handhold near the hatchway.

Ingers blinked his eyes, and the vacant, lost stare was back. He tenderly checked Roels arms and legs, then moved timidly by Thompson and floated back down the hallway. “That was insanely creepy”, Thompson said. Roels didn’t reply, but lay there, head turned away from Thompson. “We’re in hell, David. We’re in hell and Kim is the devil.” God he’s broken too. Did they make him watch? Dear God please tell me they didn’t make him watch whatever they did to Salila. He started thinking furiously. I have to set time by to get the docking shroud unlocked. Vyhovsky said it was a software hack by the Chinese so no one could leave, or enter the station if war came. He wasn’t a hacker, so he proposed a mechanical method to break the hack. Trouble is it takes time. With Vy gone, it will all depend on how much we can hold to a routine. No maintenance means this thing is going to drop into a debris orbit, or, if it lasts that long, into the atmosphere. Whichever happens, we’re dead unless there’s a way off this thing.

He looked over at Roels. We have to get off as a team. Push comes to shove we’ve got two Xong-Xi craft to use. I just have to figure out how. “We’ll figure something out, Benoit. This is broken, the whole thing is broken.” The back of Roels head nodded, and his body tensed. “We’re all broken”, was his comment. Thompson pushed away from the net, and drifted to the hatchway. The first thing was to check the readouts on the panels. They needed daily maintenance to avoid losing power, and ammonia coolant. He let his mind drift as he settled into the routine of checking pressures and scanning with the television eye for obvious micrometeorite damage. It’s only been hours since Vyhovsky was murdered, and I’m checking panels for leaks so WE don’t die. What a joke. I guess this is what you call ‘Irony’, God. You sure fucked us good. The one person more than any other that kept us together is dead, and we’re still up here with a brain-dead cripple and a crazy man in charge.

He ran the scan over the first two panels without spotting any breaks or pressure loss according to the gauges. Panel three had a small leak, according to the gauge. Thompson remembered having to shut a portion of that panel down a few weeks ago due to the fragement damage from the EMP warhead. Got a leak to seal. Gonna be a bitch without help. I sure a hell don’t trust Ingers or Kim reight now. Salila is totally untrained so no go there, though it might have been a good way to get her away from those two. What have they been doing to her? He pulled his attention back to panel three. Nothing out of the ordinary excepting the leak, so he rotated the cameras to four.

Panel four showed everything in working order, and no pressure drop. Satisfied that the only repair was three, he floated out of the room and down the hall towards the airlock. It took him a half-hour to kit up properly. Having no one to check the seals left him feeling vulnerable as he vented air pressure. The suit held and the pressure gauge said there were no breaks in the seals. Breathing a sigh of relief, Thompson clipped the safety line to himself before stepping out, and reached to clip the other end to a ring welded just outside the airlock. Once clipped on, he made a gentle push ‘outward’ towards Panel three and the leak. It took him another half hour to find the lead. It was small and deep against a rotation point. It meant he had to lock the panel in place to work on it, and with no one to hand off tools or adjust the panel’s orientation, it was going to be a long job.

He’d gotten in position to start removing the seal, when the standard channel beeped. “This is Thompson”, he said. “Friend David, what are you doing on the panel? Nothing has been authorized for repair”, Kim’s voice cut across the channel with disapproving tone. Thompson took two very slowl breaths, focusing on slowing his response to Kim’s arrogant query. “Xian-Xing”, he said, using Kim’s first name deliberately. “What happened can’t stop us from doing maintenance on the station. No maintenance, no station. It’s a simple equation.” He managed to keep the angry growl out of his voice somehow. “I must ask you to stop what you are doing so we all can sit down and decide the priority of our routines.”

Thompson bit back another scathing reply and focused on the job at hand. “Can’t, it’s partway apart already. I have to follow through or we won’t have enough temperature control. You want to start overheating the computers?” Thompson crossed mental fingers. He’d just begun on the seal and one bolt loosened technically could be ‘partway’, but reality was if Kim called his bluff, he’d be hard put to argue. The silence on the other end was reassuring. Kim had to be asking Ingers, or possibly Roels about the job. He’d never filled out any system work to track it yet, so no one would have an idea what he was working on. It gave him time to think about how he had to sell the repair so he’d have time to work for a while on the number 1 docking collar.

The World’s Eye View – 19

Kim looked over to Ingers, and Thompson’s stomach dropped into his toes. Great job Dave. Open your mouth and become the next one on Kim’s ‘list.’ He shut up and looked away, feeling every bit of Kim’s stare as it moved back to him. God help us all, please. We’re in deep now. We have to do something. I can’t. I’m scared. Is Kim going to use Ingers to kill me too? No way I can beat him. Ingers would tear me apart in just a few seconds. He didn’t look up, trying, like Roels and Salila had been for weeks, to be unnoticed, to be unmolested by something frightening nearby. He felt, rather than saw, Kim glide next to him. “I understand your grief, friend Thompson. This is nothing I had ever wanted to happen. Pull it together and let us help Ingers, and Roels. We have much work to do now that we are short a scientist once more.”

Thompson nodded, willing to do anything to make Kim go away and leave him alone. Kim patted his shoulder in a fatherly manner and moved to Roels and Salila. Thompson glanced over at Ingers, and ducked as a large floating bit of vomit spun lazily in the weightless atmosphere past his cheek. The room stank of fear and feces. Vyhovsky’s body voided itself as a last natural function, lending a further reek to the air. Thompson watched Kim talk quietly to Roels and Salila, who both nodded, then looked away, eyes downcast. Kim floated back towards Ingers, batting small pieces of flying filth from his path. He grabbed a handhold, then lay his other hand on Ingers shuddering shoulders. Ingers froze in place as Kim began to talk urgently, and quietly in his ear. The room suddenly seemed too small, and Thompson launched himself from the room, arrowing through the hatch and rebounding off the wall with practiced ease.

He came to rest minutes later in the ‘Chinese section. He had curled up in a high corner of the room, trying to be as small and hidden as possible. His heart was racing as the scene played over and over in his mind. He kept hearing the rotten crack of Vyhovsky’s neck, and seeing the last spasm of his friend’s life. He tried to focus on his surroundings, but the loss, the terrible loss kept flaring through his mind, and he would find himself in the corner once more, huddling in fear. He thought he heard muffled screams, and huddled tighter in the corner as the vision of Vyhovsky’s head flopping like a rag doll’s in zero-g haunted his memory.

It took time to fight past the grotesque vision, and make himself move away from the corner. The advantage of weightlessness meant that any perturbation to a static object pushed it into motion. So, as Thompson uncoiled, he found himself drifting towards the center of the room. A surge of panic threatened to push him back to the corner, but he gritted his teeth, and let himself drift slowly through the room, grabbing a handhold near Vyhovsky’s net-board bed. The Chinese felt that a solid surface helped produce sounder, and more refreshing sleep. Thus the boards were part of the first mission, and had been retained in spite of inconclusive evidence.

Thompson slowly glided back towards his cube, wary of meeting anyone in the hall. With only five of them now, he mentally calculated the odds of getting home a lot more remote than when Vyhovsky had been alive. He told me about the collars, and how they seemed jammed by software. We were supposed to try and pull the collars apart, but never really put some time to it as we were shorthanded. Now we’re permanently shorthanded. I’m not certain what Kim has in store, but he’s the big dog now, as they say back home. So when he barks, everyone listens. I wonder how Ingers is, the fucker. He killed him. He killed Vy. He looked so lost when he did it, like something else was holding the reins when it happened. Was this what Kim was trying to warn people about. Some kind o psycho? Or… Thompson grabbed the handhold, and floated by his hammock-bed. The thought that Kim might have convinced Ingers to attack Vyhovsky felt absurd at first, but he was certain he saw some kind of communication between Ingers and Kim just before everything happened.

One thing’s certain, nothing is ever going to be the same again. Vyhovsky was the glue, he kept us going and kept the routine that took care of this place. The question now is can we hold it together. Or are we starting to spiral in? It this the death spiral? God help me, part of me wants it to be. God, please help. We really, really, could use some kind of miracle, any kind of miracle really. I’d really like to know right now if you’re listening.

Thompson floated away from the bed, towards the hatchway, where he stopped, and cocked his ear to listen for any movement. He didn’t hear any, and that bothered him more than hearing movement. The station always to this point, had been one of motion. People going off shift for sleep, or on shift to do preventative maintenance, or handle small problems as they cropped up. This absolute silence bothered him a lot. Roels, Salila, I need to find out what’s happened to them. He girded himself mentally, then slowly pushed into the corridor, quietly rebounding off the opposite wall with his feet and slowly using the handholds to move towards Roels’s cube.

He moved slowly and as quietly as he could manage. He kept an eye on his shadow, and on the mirrors in the corner of the right angle turns in the corridor. He wanted to avoid Kim and Ingers totally if possible. Another turn and a slow, controlled glide brought him to the corridor that housed Roels’s cube. Debris floated loosely in the corridor like a small cloud, around the entrance. Small articles like paper clips and sheets of paper, broken plastic, and a few blobs of liquid had to be brushed from his path as he moved to the entrance. Looking into Roels’ cube was more of the same.

The World’s Eye View – 18

“Friend Ingers, Think of the lady. How does this look to the lady?”, Kim said quietly. Thompson saw Ingers go from stressed to focused in a moment. There was no indecision as he pushed towards Vyhovsky. What the hell?! Was that some kind of pyscho trigger? Thompson shouted, “Koll!” just as the Vyhovsky raised a boot to kick Ingers. Ingers, unable to change direction in zero-g, took the full brunt of the kick. Vyhovsky, since he wasn’t anchored either, moved back towards the wall, then rotated ‘up’ as his handhold kept him from going straight back from the momentum transfer. Ingers growled in rage. Now that he had been struck, all semblence of rational humanity disappeared in a feral snarl. He bunched his legs as he landed against the table, then pushed hard, arrowing at Vyhovsky. The Ukranian saw him coming and bent at the waist like a jackknfe, trying to get his feet aimed towards the oncoming Ingers, but was hit high in the chest as his legs slid under Ingers body.

Ingers grabbed Vyhovsky’s arm, and used it as an anchor to start trip-hammer blows to Eugeni’s neck and face, trying to stun him. Vyhovsky let go of the hand hold and brought his elbow down, smashing at Ingers collar bone. The shot glanced off the back of Ingers shoulder as he hunched close and brought his legs up, scissoring around Vyhovsky’s waist. The two men rolled slowly through the air, as tight punches were blocked. Ingers managed to set himself and squeeze hard with his legs, getting a gasping groan from Vyhovsky as he drew a ragged breath against the pressure. He jabbed at Ingers eyes, and missed as Ingers swept up a hand, guiding them past then ramming his forehead into Vyhovsky’s nose. Vyhoscky ducked sideways and took a glancing blow on the cheek.

Thompson was paralyzed. He couldn’t get himself to move. It was like an awful nightmare made real, and the thought kept him frozen next to the wall as the two men fought. The viciousness was beyond any hot-tempered brawl. Both men were doing their best to kill the other. That much was easily clear. There was a moan of terror from Salila, who clutched at Roels, trying to hide herself against him. Roels himself was white-faced, and Thompson thought he probably looked the same as the Belgian.

We’re all dead, we’re all dead. The whole thing is dead. The fighting will kill us all. Vyhovsky kept us going, and now Ingers is blown that chain all to hell and gone. What’s gonna happen to us? Thompson ducked as a loose piece of equipment rotated past him. Roels caught the laptop and let it float next to him. His hand reached down to clasp Salila’s as they stared like deer at the fight. Thompson started to gather himself, then stopped as he saw Kim move back towards the exit, and grabbed a handhold to stop himself in the hatch. Thompson wasn’t certain if that was to keep Roels and Saalila from leaving, or giving Kim the option to leave if he felt threatened by the rolling combat.

The two men bounced into the ceiling. Vyhovsky planted his feet and launched himself off the ceiling at the table. Ingers felt the push and rolled sideways, the momentum turning Vyhovsky towards the table. The men impacted solidly. Thompson saw Vyhovsky’s neck hit the edge of the table. The magnetic holdfasts held, and he saw the neck roll back as momentum continued. There was a sickening crack like rotten wood. Vyhovsky’s body jerked spasmodically once, then went limp in Ingers grip. Ingers hit the body twice hard. He seemed to realize the Ukrainian wasn’t fighting back any more. His arms grabbed Vyhovsky’s shoulders as reason came back into his eyes.
—
Ingers stared at the corpse, like a child who’d broken his best toy. He shook the body gently, and said, “Eugeni?” He shook it again, a little harder. The head flopped back and forth unnaturally as he did. A bit of bloody froth whispered from the lungs across Vyhovsky’s bluish lips. “Eugeni!”, Ingers shouted, then he began crying, and shaking his head. “No no no no no nonononono…Eugeni!” Ingers let go of the body, which cartwheeled slowly away in the zero-g, to ricochet from a wall, back towards the center of the room. Ingers was beside himself, arms hugging his waist as he cried and vomited. Salila and Roels both looked in shock. Neither moved. They were like statues, frozen in place as the world moved around them. Kim was the first to move, launching himself towards Vyhovsky, and intercepting the body near the table. The vomit slowly splattered against the wall, near half of it rebounding in random bits, in random directions.

He gently slowed the momentum, then placed a bare hand over the carotid artery, feeling for a pulse. With the features turning blue from oxygen deprivation, Thompson felt certain his friend was dead. Kim confirmed it a moment later. “There is no pulse, he’s gone.” Kim turned to Roels and Salila. “We mus pull together, and focus. This cannot be allowed to destroy our chances for going home. We need an outlet for our emotions, so that this can never happen again. A, ‘democratic’ way to air difficulties. Ingers.” Kim turned towards the Swede. Ingers looked up through red-rimmed eyes. He looked like a lost child. “Ingers”, Kim said again quietly. “We don’t blame you for this. And you musn’t blame yourself. It was a tragedy waiting to happen, and you were it’s victim.”

“BULLSHIT!”, yelled someone, and Thompson found to his surprise it was him. Kim looked over, eyes narrowed as he held Ingers shoulders. “You set that up. You set up Ingers and Vyhovsky’s fight. Maybe Roels and Salila couldn’t see it but I did!” Kim stared calmly at Thompson. “This is not the time for accusations. We’ve lost someone, and we need to purge ourselves of this if we want to survive. We cannot let it hang over our heads and poison our community.” Thompson felt himself give a strangled laugh. “Poisoned? This whole thing was poisoned when you started talking about ‘democratic systems!  We had a working command, we were doing okay, and suddenly you need a ‘democratic system’ for everyone to use?”, Thompson spat venomously. “Give me a fucking break,”

World’s Eye View – 17

“What happened”, Kim asked in a flat, angry voice. Thompson noticed Kim was looking at Ingers with a bit of worry. He turned back to Roels, scowling ferociously. “What did you do to him?” Roels straightened up, and his hand found Salila’s. “He grabbed her, and wouldn’t let go when she asked him to. Then he started to try and drag her out of the room.” Roels glared at Ingers, who was now passively watching Kim. Kime sighed and pinched his nose as he turned to face Ingers. “You should not do such things, friend Ingers. It means you’re not in control of yourself.” Kim’s voice was like a schoolteacher chewing out a truant student. Ingers ducked his head guiltily as Kim continued. “This is intolerable. Apologize to them both, friend Ingers. Immediately.”

Ingers shivered and turned to benoit and Salila. “I am sorry for my actions. I am still not fully well. I do apologize.” The words came from his voice sounding like a large child, completely at odds with his previous self. Thompson watched the change. Ingers turned into a scared kid all because Kim said he was unhappy? That’s kind of creepy. “Hey, so what do we do now?”, Thompson said to no one in particular. Roels, Kim, and Salila turned their gazes to Thompson. Oh crud, now what? “What we do now, is hold a meeting, and air this problem”, Kim stated firmly. “We must talk amongst ourselves, and decide what can be done as a course of action.” “You do that, I will say Ingers will be working exclusively with me, where I can keep an eye on him.” Everyone turned to see Vyhovsky holding himself braced in the hatchway as he listened to the discussion.

Kim glared at Vyhovsky as the fragile goodwill well and truly shattered. Thompson could only watch, and wait, as a sense of impending change started to build. Vyhovsky looked at him, nodding slightly. Thompson knew he was looking for support in this latest political maneuver. Roels and Salila floated away from the table and tried to disappear along one wall. Ingers moved to block the exit, and the two huddled miserably back against the wall, reluctant witnesses to whatever might happen. Kim shook his head slowly. “Friend Eugeni, surely you must know that this mission is no longer valid. The world is gone, our families gone, and we have nothing but our desire to return home so that we may mourn in the ashes, and yet you decide that we must survive here, until all supplies run out, just so that the precious mission is completed?”

Vyhovsky snorted, barely holding in a bitter laugh. “You think this is all just for mission? You are fool. The only thing I try to make certain is that we can go home. To go home we need survive to go home. To survie, we need station in good order. That means we all must work.” He stared at Ingers, who returned the stare with a blank one of his own. Thompson’s view of Ingers didn’t allow him to see the man’s face, but he could tell that the big Swede’s body was taut, ready to move. God, don’t let it happen. Please, don’t let it happen. We can’t get in a fight over this. We need each other. Please, help us. Please help. Help me, God, please.

Vyhovsky remained in the doorway, watching Ingers like a man watches a coiled rattlesnake. “This is wrong, Kim. You know it’s wrong. Let it go and we’ll work things out”, Thompson said quietly. Both Kim and Vyhovsky turned their heads his direction, but neither took their attention off of one another. Thompson could feel his words bounce off of both of them like rain off a roof. Neither weas willing to listen. Neither was willing to give up their argument. “Friend, David”, Kim said neutrally, “This is something that must be changed. Our situation is beyond all human experience. So in that, we must ALL have a say. Even those who don’t want to.” Kim’s eyes flicked for a moment over Salila and Benoit, then returned to stare back at Vyhovsky.

Vyhovsky smiled, and Thompson could see that it never reached his eyes. He was reminded of old films where the villain would smile just before killing somone. The sense of building violence was thickening the air, oppressive and ominous. “We do not need your citizen committee, we do not need any committee. We will continue as we are, and we will survive until we have a way to escape this place.” “Ingers, you will meet with me in fifteen minutes. You and I will do systems check on hydroponics, and on computers systems. Then we will…” “No”, Ingers said. Vyhovsky blinked, then straightened holding himself rigid like the soldier he was. “Mr. Ingers. You misunderstand. That was not a request. That is an order as mission leader.”

Ingers looked over at Vyhovsky, biting his lip in indecision. Clearly he was unwilling to force the issue further. Thompson missed the signal between the Swede and Kim, but was certain there had been one to make Ingers stand against Vyhovsky’s directions. He watched Kim, who was in turn watching Ingers. Kim nodded, then said, “Friend Ingers said ‘no’. Is that something you do not understand?”, Kim asked with menace. “Or, friend Eugeni”. Kim growled, “Are you threatening violence to get your way?”

Vyhovsky gazed at Kim in disgust. “I am mission leader, our situation has not changed. We are still on this station. I will do what is necessary to make us all survive. There is no further discussion.” He looked back over to Ingers, his eyes hardening. “Koll, you will come with me”, he said in a voice that brooked no disobedience, “now.”

Ingers gaze swept back and forth from Kim to Vyhovsky, then back, and back again rapidly. Thompson could see his resolve starting to fray badly.

World’s Eye View – 16

“Well, now that the cat’s out of the bag, or storage locker as the case may be, what’s next?”, Thompson queried. Kim looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “You see all this, then ask what’s next? Do you not ever process what you see, friend David?” Thompson ducked his head like a man caught with his hand in the cashier’s till. “Oh hell, I don’t know. We’re all on edge, this is getting to us. If there was a way to blow off steam, but there isn’t. We’re caught between the devil and deep black space.” Kim looked at Thompson. That’s right, talk with me, ignore the other two. Keep them out of the conversation. “I think you an Vyhovsky ought to work together doing my job on the panels and in hydroponics. That would really keep you two busy.”

“Me? Work with that Ukranian dictator? Friend David, I think you’ve gone crazy if you think that is a good idea.” Thompson smiled. “Is that a professional observation?” “I….no, it is not”, Kim said slowly. He peered at Thompson who looked back at him with a guiless smile. He’s starting to suspect something. I think I overdid the smartass parts. “Look Kim, we all know we have to get along, and right now you and Vyhovsky aren’t. Whatever was simmering between you two has really gone overboard, and we need to fix it. Salila got a signal, people are still alive down there. If we want to get home, we have to work together to make it happen. We can’t just go and do it. We need a plan, and we need teamwork.”

Kim smiled, making Thompson feel like he just put a word very, very wrong. “Of course we do. Any attempt at returning home is going to take much effort on everyone’s part to make it happen. We have the equpiment, just not the data for a proper launch window. And, with our current … political … situation, we are not in any way ready or willing to work completely together.” Kim reached up to an overhead handhold, uncurling himself from the ergo seat. He pulled ‘up’ and maneuvered to avoid bumping the table. “It is why we need the democratic process. It would guarantee proper airing of all our greivances. How can you n ot see that it is the perfect way to deal with others in this emotionally charged system we are living in?” He puffed up a little like Thompson saw Turkeys do on his grandfather’s farm. “Rules to help us deal with the stresses of the day-to-day difficulties.”

Thompson watched Kim Glance past him, and he turned his head to see both Roels and Ms Shukla disappear out the back hatchway. “Excuse me, there are some things I must do, friend David”, Kim said politely. Thompson held up his hand and said, “Wait a second Kim. We need to talk.” Kim looked down at Thompson with narrowed eyes. “What must we discuss now, David?”, Kim all but sneered. “Another random talk of things?” “No, Myung. Just, talk”, Thompson replied quietly.

“I just want to sit here and talk, like we all did before all this happened. Like about Botany, or ‘what space means to you’ or just anything except politics, religon, or personal stuff, ’cause we know those are all conversation killers.” Thompson tried to smile, and his lips felt like they were lead. The effort was almost beyond him.

Kim, to his surprise, actually drifted down to the ergo chair and hooked his feet through the pads to face Thompson. “We should, friend David. This place is making us all crazy. What did Eugeni call it, a ‘hamster cage’? I think it more resembles a tube trail cage, but I am not one to quibble about so apt a description.” Thompson chuckled, and was surprised by how that small joke had lifted him from the bone-weariness he felt. “I know, I could just see everyone in one of those Manga comics drawn up as Gerbils screaming ‘we are NOT HAMSTERS!’ and trying to escape.” Myung’s eyes crinkled in humor at the thought, and Thompson felt the tension ease. “That, friend Thompson, is an image to cherish.” Thompson started to feel uncomfortably ‘normal’ that the rest of their plight seemed far away and more a dream than reality. A sudden shout from the hatchway drew them both back to the ugly present.

Thompson was first though the hatch, ricocheting off the corridor wall as he grabbed a handhold to steer and add speed to his glide. He heard Kim thump the wall behind him, muttering in Korean. The argument gathered rapidly in volume as the two men came up on Roels and Ingers facing off in Salila’s cube. Roels was pressed against the wall as Ingers held him in place with one hand as his boot braced on an overhead handhold. Roels was trying to slap the restraining hand away, but Ingers had chosen a place away from all handholds so Roels couldn’t shift his mass enough to break free. Ingers other hand was trying t control one of Roels’s which had a plastic carton in it.

“WHAT THE HELL?!”, Thompson screamed, and was caromed into by Kim, who’d missed the handhold in his haste to catch up. “HEY!”, Thompson yelled as both men tumbled weightlessly to impact Ingers and Roels. Roels and Ingers were caught off-guard and the four spun awkwardly in the air across the cube into the far wall with a heavy thump. Ingers cushioned Thompson’s impact, as Kim and Roels somehow managed to land feet first into the wall. Thompson grabbed a handhold and pulled himself away from the stunned Ingers. “Ingers, aare you all right?”, he asked, momentatrily forgetting what had been occurring just moments before. Ingers nodded slightly as he started to drift away from the wall. He looked over at Kim and Roels. The Belgian seemed ready to start all over again with Ingers. Salila drifted next to him, laying a hand on his shoulder as Ingers slowly shook off his disorientation.

World’s Eye View – 14

Vyhovsky Got the inspiration first, though a brute-force sort. “Thompson, Roels, go check on the panels. I think they need a quick inspection. It would be a wise idea I think, to make certain nothing was jarred out of place by the burn.” Thompson looked over to Roels, who was looking back. Roels seemed distressed, and oddly relieved at being told to go somewhere. The two glided out of the room, then brushed the far wall as they used it to propel themselves down the coridor, sterring by handholds. They helped each other into the bulky space suits, and then Thompson held up 3 fingers, indicating Roels should go to private channel 3.

“What do you think they’re, uh, talking about, David?”, Roels asked as soon as the channel popped indicating it was ‘on’ and ‘open’. “Probably who’s got the biggest balls”, Thompson replied. “God, why now. Of all the times in this place why now and why do we have to argue? We got enough troubles without being at each other’s throat for no reason.” Thompson heard the faint pop as Roels condenser mic activated. “I don’t know. Kim wants the votes, and wants that ‘democratic process’. I think he just hates Vyhovsky. The two have been at it since, well, since everything happened.” Roels clipped onto the support beam for the first panel series, a then slowly floated out to conduct the visual inspection. Thompson did the same to the opposite panel.

“I don’t get why we have to fight about it. Vy was installed as mission leader since he’d been up here twice before, and the rest of us are just rookies, our first time up. Why not listen to the man who’s been here before?” “I don’t know”, Roels replied, his mic popping as it was activated by Roels voice. “Well, I think we all need to figure out what’s going on and how it affects us”, Thompson shot back, more vehemently than he expected. “Easy, David, easy”, Benoit placated. “I hear you, and I know there’s things you’re upset about. We need to…” , he traid to continue, but Thompson cut him off. “Dammit Benoit, first you roll over because you don’t want to get in a confrontatation, now you’re rolling over because you are doing the same damn thing. Grow a spine!”, he shouted angrily.

Roels visibly flinched as he continued the inspection on the port panel. “I know, David!” Roels coughed, then Thompson heard choking sounds over the mic. “Roels”, he queried. There were more choking sounds. “Roels”, Thompson shouted into the mic, alarmed that Roels was having trouble with his suit. “David, I, I don’t want this confrontation. I just want to get home. Salila, I just want to keep her safe, and it’s like walking a minefiled between you, Eugeni, Koll, and Kim. You all want Salila and I to agree with you and you push and push and push to get us to. Fix it yourself for god’s sake. Leave us out of it. We just want to go home!” Roels choked the words out, like each one was a piece of glass in his throat. Roels, I’m sorry, but I can’t see a way out of all this without you and Salila choosing sides. You’re the two trying to avoid everything, which makes you the neutral parties in all of this. God help me, if I could think of any other way to keep us from tearing ourselves apart, I’d take it. There isn’t, not now. Not any more. Any chance of that disappeared when those missles flew.

“Roels”, Thompson quietly replied. “You got to see it. We’re tearing ourselves apart. Kim and Vyhovsky are both wanting to be in charge. And we can’t have two leaders. You have to choose a side. It sucks, and I sympathize with you, but you put yourself in the middle by trying to avoid conflict. You have to see that.” Roels was quiet for a long time. Thompson turned over to look, and Roels was hanging by his tether, slight movements the only thing that indicated he was alive. Thompson was about to call again when Roels voice came over the channel. “I’ll be finished with inspection shortly.” His voice sounded hollow, broken. Dear God, what happened? Is he shutting down to avoid things, or, what? Did I push too hard?

His musings were broken by an announcement from Salila. “I got a channel! I got someone from Earth! They’re alive!”, she choked out excitedly. “They’re alive!”

World’s Eye View – 12

Thompson nodded. “It’s both our faults, so we share the blame, and joke about it over dinner after shift.” Ingers chuckled at the joke. Thompson was chilled to see the laugh didn’t reach his eyes. “I fill go back to the exercise room, friend Kim says I must push myself to counteract all the atrophy I put on my muscles, sleeping. Friend Kim says in two weeks I should be ready to go back on duty.” Thompson nodded, and smiled. “That’s great Koll. We’re gonna be glad for the extra help.” He looked to his left towards the front hatch of the galley. He didn’t know if Salila was inside still. Either way, if she was, or wasn’t keeping Ingers busy a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt. “How much exercise is Kim asking you to do?”, Thompson asked Ingers. “Enough to regain my health”, Ingers replied, shrugging his shoulders. “As long as I have been asleep, my body has weakened. Strengthening the body should strengthen the mind, Friend Kim says.”

“That sounds like a plan, though that’s a lot of work just to get back to work. How are you going to take care of the calorie needs? We’re on a pretty strong rationing right now. All the food has to stretch as far as we can make it. We have to stay alive long enough to find a way home.” Ingers growled at the mention of ‘home’. “Yes, I want to go home, then I want to find those who fired the missiles. I want to talk with them very badly.” “So do I, Koll, so do I”, Thompson agreed with him, and this time when Ingers smiled, it seemed genuine as his eyes lit up like the Ingers of old after a bad joke or a good laugh. “I will remember, David. We’ll find those bastards, and have a little, personal, talk with them.” Koll looked down at his hands as he spoke, almost imagining what he would wrap them around if given a chance.

“First, we need you back on duty, and then we have to start working on the ‘getting home’ part”, Thompson told Ingers. “I’m going to show Salila how to work the raido and how to sweep for signals. There’s no way bombs like that could wipe everyone off the face of the earth. There are people down there and we need to see if we can get some kind of idea what’s going on.” Ingers face flushed and he looked eagerly at Thompson. “I can show her how. I was a ham operator back in Stockholm. It should be easy to do.” Great, now what do I do? Ingers is crazy to see Salila, and she’s crazy when he’s around. Hell, we’re all crazy when she’s around. He trapped me neatly there. How do I pull the plug on his idea without becoming a target?

“I think it’s something to think about”, Thompson hedged. He felt terrible about not shutting the idea down, and couldn’t shake the feeling something terrible was being set in place, but he couldn’t find it in himself to shut Ingers down. Half of it because he didn’t want to hurt the man, the other half because he was concerned what Ingers reaction would be. Ingers smiled like he’d been given the key to the candy store. “Thank you, It will work. I’m certain.” Thompson nodded numbly, and the feeling something was off kept gnawing at him. He forced the sensation away and concentrated on Ingers. “Let’s see what it’s like after everyone has given it some thought. Ms Shukla should be given a choice in things, she’s stuck up here as much as the rest of us.”

Ingers nodded, but it didn’t seem to Thompson he heard anything at all. “Ja, I fill teach her, She is intelligent, and focused. She will learn the basics quickly.” Ingers pushed off away from the corner, and down past the front hatchway to the galley. He glanced over for a moment, then continued on. She must have gotten out. That’s one nice thing about weightlessness, no footsteps to give you away. Though god I wish there was some way to get advance warning. The mirrors are supposed to give a picture around the corner. I wish we had more of them.

World’s Eye View – 9

Two days later, Thompson and Roels were working on the port rear panel. Vyhovsky hadn’t boosted the orbit as yet, so they were still in the debris orbit from the missles. He and Roels were replacing an ammonia valve that had stuck open, according to the computer checks, so they were out on the panel to do a full visual. It had simply failed, rather than being disabled by debris. Roels had shut down the ammonia and used it’s own partial pressure to drive the liquid past a second valve, which was shut manually. Thompson had taken thirty minutes to remove the valve, and now he was attaching the new valve. One last slow turn of the tourqeless wrench, and the pipe was locked to the valve. “That’s done. Roels, let’s see if the seal holds. Open your end”, he said, his voice echoing in his ear in static-y bursts. “Opening”, came the reply as Roels used his magnetic boots to anchor himself, and push the long wrench to open the valve. “Done”, Roels said after a few moments. “Nothing here, no visible plumes”, Thompson observed. “How about your end, Roels?” “Nothing here but myself, the station and the Earth peeking over my shoulder”, Roels said with a forced chuckle.

“We’re good here”, Thompson said. “Ready for start.” He and Roels wroked slowly back to the airlock, and felt the faint vibration of the pumps. “What do you think about Ingers?”, Roels asked Thompson. “I’m glad he’s awake. Hopefully soon he’ll be able to lend a hand instead of hanging around Kim. Kim’s a good man, but the three of us are not getting a lot of sleep and trying to handle everything without rest is taxing.” Roels looked at his helmet, then set it in the net to keep it from drifting away. “I don’t know, David. He’s changed. There’s nothing of the humor I remember. It’s like, how you Americans put it, ‘The lights are on but no one’s home?’ “ He shrugged, and started unbuttoning the suit. “He watches her like there’s no other person here whenever he sees her. It’s like a drwoning man looking at a life preserver just our of reach.” Thompson helped lift the harness up once Roels had turned around. Evn in space, mass was still difficult to control if it was awkardly balanced. He slipped the harness into a couple pegs then bungeed the harness to the wall. Twelve kilograms of mass was painful to run into, regardlss of it’s shape.

So he’s seen it too. After the last few days, everyone’s probably seen the changes. Maybe Kim can figure it out. We need Ingers all the way back, so we can really get to escaping this hamster cage. He sighed then turned so Roels could help shift his harness off. Once finished it was off to the galley for a tube of protein, some water, and then to his cube and net harness for a nap. Got to remember to talk to Kim. Ask him about Ingers. He’s probably seen it himself. God, if you’re listening, thanks for Koll coming back. Think you could give us a way home? As the fatigue of the spacewalk crept up on him, his last thought of the evening was of fishing up in Canada at McKamuie Lake, with his dad. Thompson woke to angry voices. Loud, angry voices.

**

He sturggled muzzily in his hammock, then pulled on his coverall to the waist, tying the arms around his stomach. He pushed off the wall, lauching himself in a perfect dive through the open hatchway. He rolled and planted his feet like a swimmer turning a lap, then angled his push past the corner and grabbed a handhold to re-aim himself down the corridor. Moments later he was closing in on the noise, which came from Kim’s cube. He pulled himself to a stop by the hatch.

Kim was hanging onto an overhead handhold as he shouted at Vyhovsky. Vyhovsky hand anchored his toes under another holdfast and was staring icily at Kim, his arms crossed, and waited for the Korean to wind down. Roels and Ms Shukla were nowhere to be seen, and he saw Ingers floating behind Kim. The big Swede seemed to watch the argument with an intensity that made Thompson shiver. He looks like a guy deciding if pounding someone to paste is worth his time. Ingers looked up at Thompson, and the fire in his eyes seemed to burn brighter.

Deciding that maybe they had gotten in too deep, Thompson cleared his throat loudly, then spoke, “What? Did we run out of coffee already?” The absurdity of the statement stalled the argument completely. Both men turned to Thompson. Kim looked outraged at the interruption, Vyhovsky looked angry, but a wry smile formed on his lips. “If it’s not about coffee, what elese could be so important that I could hear you yelling all the way to my cube? It isn’t the Ice Cream is it?”, he said working at humor to defuse things. Kim lost his look of outrage, and slowly forced a smile on his features. “No, friend David, it was about my patient. I am arguing that he needs more time to recover before going on duty, and ‘Comrade’ Vyhovsky feels he should start re-acclimating to the work schedule now.”

Thompson saw Vyhovsky’s normally quiet demeanor undergo a frightening change as Kim spat the word ‘Comrade’. He seemed to harden like rock as his gaze met Kim’s. “’Friend’ Kim”, Vyhovsky said slowly with menace, “I am not saying he jumps off a cliff into water without checking. I am saying he needs to do work, get his mind back into doing work.” “He needs rest, and exercise to help the psyche repair. Mental effort such as you propose will set his recovery back”, Kim countered. “Who of us has the psychology and psychiatric background to deal with this trauma? You, ‘Comarade’?”, Kim said sarcastically. “Your background is engineering, not the mind.”

A World’s Eye View – part 8

Food was a close second at eighteen to twenty-one months, and recyclables such as water, came at a month over two years. Thompson looked at the list. “I’d rather have your estimates.” Vyhovsky gave a tired chuckle. “After seeing your estimates, I feel like a Ukrainian again. This is properly pessimistic.” “It’s conservative. We could probably stretch things out further if we try the changes you suggest.” Thompson looked gloomily at the spreadsheet. “Any idea if we’ll be able to leave the station?” Vyhovsky shrugged. “I think with some work, we can manually unlock the collar. I think our Chinese friends put a virus in the system to lock it closed, just for spite. Or perhaps the Chinese. But in either case, manual unlocking will work.”

Thompson stared at Vyhovsky. “We can go home? We can get out of the hamster house?” Vyhovsky gave a tired shrug. “Yes, it would take time. The manual labor will take days, as we have to disassemble the clamps, which means cutting torches and a lot of nuts and bolts to locate and remove, without losing the Xong-Xi capsule when it comes loose.” Vyhovsky stared at the spreadsheet, but Thompson could see that his thoughts were elsewhere. “If we do this, the capsule will float free, and it will require a untethered spacewalk to enter it.”

“ Why didn’t you say anything, Vy? We’re all thinking we’re trapped. Thompson heard his voice getting louder as his neck muscles tightened. He glared angrily at Vyhovsky. “What’s the deal? What’s YOUR deal with this?” Thompson uncurled his legs, and grabbed a hand hold to his left, turning and facing the tired mission leader. Vyhovsky looked over to him. He started to speak, then checked himself. He peered at the hatchways, then back at Thompson. “Would you tell anyone of a way home before you knew there was a home to go to?”, he said quietly. The statement brought Thompson up short. IF there’s a home to go to?

He looked back over at Vyhovsky. I want to punch his face in, and I have to agree. What happens if you give hope when there ain’t any? He hated the fact he was agreeing with the mission leader. We have to keep it under wraps, until we can be certain we have a real place to go home to. That means listening and trying to spot possible landing locations. A troubling thought occurred to him as he floated next to the computer. How do we keep people from going crazy? If we’re convinced were stuck, how do we keep from breaking down?

He looked over at Vyhovsky once more. The man was playing with a bomb. One that would kill everyone here if not played with exacting care. The balance between hope and despair was razor thin, and any nudge either way could create the very chaos that he had been keeping in control to now. Being able to go home was on everyone’s mind. But, would it pull us together, or tear us to pieces trying to get home? Is it right to keep this quiet? He looked over to Vyhovsky. “If this was a novel, this would be where one of us would ask the other, “What’s the catch?” Thomspon shrugged his shoulders, and rotated to face Vyhovsky fully. “So, what’s the catch?” Vyhovsky, sighed, running a hand down his face. “How many can the Xong-Xi hold? For each flight up and back from home?” “Three right?”, Thompson guessed. We can get three up and three back, and we have two capsules.

Vyhovsky nodded. “Now, of all of us, who are the best qualified to launch, and control the re-entry of a Xong-Xi?” He looked at Thompson, who was going through the list mentally. “You, and Roels are the ones with the most experience. The best launch pilot though, is Ingers?” Vyhovsky nodded. “Roels can get you down, but his simulations always needed coaching, as did yours and Kim. Ingers, needed none, and I was born in a Xong-Xi with a bottle of Vodka in one hand and the other on the controls.” Thompson smiled tightly. “So you’re saying you don’t trust the rest of us to fly down the second capsule.” Vhovsky waved a hand a t Thompson. “It is not that. In this time, coaching will not be there, and you are motivated. You wouldn’t need the coaching.” Vyhovsky sighed, then continued. “It would be how to place others in the capsules. Our tourist has nothing in the way o practical knowledge in piloting a Xong-Xi, and Ingers is essentially a dead man. Do we leave the dead man behind?”

Thomson felt a chill along his spine. Leave Ingers? Is that what it takes to get home? Can I do that? Leave him here? Can any of us? “Okay so two riders and two crew. Salila in one capsule, Ingers in the other.” Vyhovsky shrugged. “It is a solution, but the second question is where do we land? I can see that question becoming very important to some.” His eyes seemed to bore into Thompson, who swallowed drily as the realization returned that if they left, a landing site had to be chosen. America’s out. I’d be coming down in Europe, where I’d be a total outsider. I could try for America, but that means taking a capsule, hijacking it and leaving people behind, or screwing them over like I’d be in Europe. What’s the solution here? Get two people to defect? That’s a laugh. Gods what do I do? Ingers. What do we do about him? Do we leave him to go home?

Thompson started to get an inkling of all the stress Vyhovsky must be feeling. The mission leader had seen the troubles coming, and like his dossier showed, tried to do the best without rocking the boat, or causing panic. He worked preferentially alone. In this case, alone was the only way to work to keep things from blowing up with crazy schemes to get home, which would jeopardize the true chance of getting home. He pinched his nose, then looked over to Vyhovsky, seeing again the weary features of the mission leader. Keeping this all under wraps. I wonder if I could have done the same in his place. It makes me hate him, even though he’s right.

Thompson drew a hand down his face, composing himself and trying to see things from a different angle. Everything pointed to chaos, shouting and anger. Everyone had the idea of getting to their home, not just down to earth. For Thompson, it was how he kept his sanithy in all of the despair. I can get home, I can see Maggie again. The truth was no one really would get home. They would all just die a few days after landing if they dropped in a hot zone. If not, the wild storms and temperature shifts coming with nuclear winter would probably kill them rather than the radiation. God knows if they used chemical and biological too.

He looked back over to Vyhovsky again, feeling as tired as the Ukranian looked. “What’s the plan, boss?” Vyhovsky smiled and sat down to detail out the next six weeks of routines and required details. As they started to talk, there was a commotion out in the corrido. As they turned at the sound, Thompson caught a glimpse of movement at the hatch. Vyhovsky saw it too. Roels zipped into the room. He looked excited, breathless. “Ingers, he’s awake. Kim was with him when he woke up”, Roels said excitedly. “We’ve got Ingers back.” Vyhovsky fiddled with the computer and bleatedly joined the other two as they launched themselves at the hatchway, and caught handholds to redirect their momentum. “Thank God”, Vyhovsky murmured, behind Roels and Thompson. “We can go to regular shifts again.” The three floated the corridors to Inger’s cube. Inside, the barrel-chested Swede had unzipped the bag he’d been in for two weeks. His body looked pale and emaciated. The slabs of muscle were still there, stretched taut in places due to inactivity. He shook his leonine head and stared blankly at the three men and one woman at the hatchway. Then he turned to Kim, who was floating in the back of the cube, behind Ingers.

Kim’s eyes seemed alight to Thompson. He has to feel great. I don’t know what he did, but he had to have gotten to Ingers somehow. Thank God, we need him to help out. Being down two workers was no picnic. This will give us time to plan around getting the Xong-Xi out of that locked docking ring. We’ve got a good chance of making it after all. “What…happened?”, Ingers said in heavily accented English. His movements Thompson noted, were stiff and jerky, almost random tics. I wonder how bad he is. Being asleep so long has to have done something to his muscles. I wonder how much he remembers of that day. “You have been asleep for two weeks. We were beginning to lose hope you would wake up”, Roels said bluntly. Vyhovsky gave the Belgian a glower, which Roels noted, then shrugged. “I don’t think keeping things right now is going to be hurtful.” “I do”, said Kim. He floated next to Ingers, placing a comforting hand on the big Swede’s shoulder.

“Mental trauma like we have gone through, must be approached with care, especially in this case, where other symptoms occur”, Kim said to the assembled group. “He has had a very dificult shock to deal with. It is upon us to help him recover, and recover quickly. As you have all said, his expertise is needed.” Thompson watched Ingers as he seemd to relax as Kim spoke. Ingers looked over at Kim, a strange, glassy gaze in his eyes. Thompson repressed a shiver. I wonder what that’s all about. Maybe it’s because Kim read to him all that time? He looked at Kim as Ingers gave the North Korean a gaze that seemed to border on adoration. Kim, seemed oblivious to the gaze, but Thompson thought he felt it, as he held himself straighter by the handhold as he talked.

Ingers scanned the faces as Kim droned on about the fragile stage Swede was in, and what should be done to assist a full recovery. Thompson noted that Inger continued to look at the group until his eyes met Salila Shukla who’d just arrived at the hatchway. Ingers gaze, changed. The look of a man who has just had a religious epiphany. Thompson shivered at the intensity of the gaze. A quick glance at the others made him think he was the only one to spot the change. He watched Ingers, who seemed oblivious to anything but Ms Shukla. His eyes followed every small movement, every shift. It was so focused that he could see the woman instinctively trying to hide behind Roels. Roels noticed the movement, and Thmpson watched him glance back and give her a reassuring smile.

We got him back, but, what, did we get back? God, I hope this is just part of recovering. His stare’s absolutely creepy. I never remember Ingers being that way. Is this some kind of psychological thing? Maybe Kim can tell me. Gotta ask him when we get the chance. Kim had finished talking, and Thompson struggled to remember what he’d said. Something about being soft voiced and gentle with Ingers until he fully…something. Recovered maybe? Shrugging his shoulders he pulled on the handhold to join the others in welcoming Ingers back.

A World’s Eye View – 7

He found Vyhovsky in the room, drifting in the middle, having fallen asleep and lost his foothold. Normally, this would be something that would amuse Thompson and the others, but right now, it seemed to punctuate how much stress everyone had endured to date, and how much more they might have to in order to survive in this hostile environment. The metal and plastic of the station against the unforgiving vacuum of space and debris of the disaster below. Thompson carefully slid by the sleeping Vyhovsky, settling into an ergo chair, and going over the open command list. He’s calculating the burn needed for a slow rise up another 3 kilometers, trying to get above all this debris before we hit a big cloud of larger pieces. He looked over at another file opened to one side of the screen. What’s this? Hmm, how much maneuvering fuel we have for the station?

He sat down, ducking under Vyhovksy’s slowly rotating legs as he reviewed Vyhovsky’s spreadsheet. Enough to lift us up a total of forty kilometers, then we start to decay into the atmosphere. He’s got an estimate of four years here. So a lot of time, just not enough to stay up here indefinitely, though I guess four years qualifies. He tapped and opened a second sheet, which displayed figures for food, recyclables, electrical reserve, and ammonia reserves. After looking through the sheets, it was clear that the two things that were the true limits were the ammonia, and food. Each was finite, though vegetables could be grown with some effort, as was proven in previous missions to the station. The real kicker, as he’d thought early on, was going to be ammonia for heat dissipation. He’d guessed about six months. Vyhovsky had actually quadrupled that to two years, basing his estimate on reducing the electrical reserve even further, and allowing a ten degree extra rise and fall in onboard temperatures to reduce ammonia use. It all worked out on paper. The trouble with all this is none of it could predict anything about likely micrometeorite strikes or the new large orbital pieces from the exploding EMP warheads.

Thompson bit his lip, depressed by the estimate. It’s one thing to guess, but not have a solid date. Gods I’d rather have it a maybe, than a definite. We’re going to die up here, unless we can get home. Hell, we’ll probably die there. But we’d be home, not in this freakin’ hamster house. God, if you’re out there, we could really use some good news right now. Something, anything. I don’t want to die up here. He pinched his nose, then reached up in surprise as Vyhovsky’s legs rotated into his peripheral vision. His outstrectched hand thumped against Vyhovsky, who awoke with a startled grunt.

Thompson watched him come awake, and groggily take a moment to orient himself. He reached up to a hand hold, helped by a slow push from Thompson. Thompson watched his gaze alight on him, then the open spreadsheet on the computer on the wall behind him. “Reading over someone’s shoulder isn’t proper etiquette.” Thompson found himself smiling as he replied. “And sleeping on the job gets the boss upset”, he replied, which earned a tired smile from Vyhovsky. He grimaced dramatically, then stated, “I’ll keep quiet about the reading, if you keep quiet about the sleeping.” “What sleeping?”, Thompson replied innocently. “…”, Vyhovsky started to reply, then realized the joke, and chuckled softly. “How tired am I that I could not see that coming?”

“Seriously? I’d say quite a bit if you end up hovering in the middle of the room”, Thompson answered. “What have you been doing to get to this point?” He looked up at Vyhovsky, then back over to the open spreadsheet. “The Ammonia lasting twenty-two months? Isn’t that optimistic?” Wyhovsky shrugged. “If, we catch all the breaks, then it’s close to realistic. If not, then we’re pretty much dead anyway and there’s no reason for the exercise.” Thompson looked back at Vyhovsky, who gave another tired smile. “I’m Ukrainian, we’re bigger pessimists than the Russians.”

Vyhovsky pushed away from the handhold and floated down to grab the back of the chair Thompson sat at. He peered at the spreadsheet. “What is the rate of consumption for the Ammonia?” Thompson minimized the spread sheet then searched the database for recharge cycles. “We’re using this much here, and this spike is when everything happened back home. We lost a heft chunk from the reservoir.” He shifted in the chair to let Vyhovsky see the chart more easily. Vyhovsky eased himself forward, grasping the edge of the computer mounting to arrest his motion. “So we have what, forty percent of the reservoir left”, he asked Thompson. “More like thirty. Cutting back on the heating and cooling will stretch it, but we may end up having more stuff breaking down because of thermal expansion and contraction in here.”

Thompson popped the spreadsheet open once more. “The trouble is, skrimping one place will hurt in others. Reduce the heating and cooling, that will help, but the equipment isn’t exactly made for temperature cycles. It’s sturdy, and we’ve got triple redundancy and spare equipment, but no telling how long it will last with the thermal changes.” Vyhovsky nodded, intent on the spreadsheet. “So your best estimate of our time here?” Thompson stared at the spreadsheet, then cycled through the other tabs for food, recyclables, and perishables. He changed the formulas used, and then jumped back to the main page to display the estimates. It looked nowhere near as encouraging as Vyhovsky’s. Ammonia was still the major bottleneck, at eleven to fifteen months before reserves ran out, if Vyhovsky’s measures were instituted.