The tourist looked to aim in his direction before letting go of the antenna and extending his arms like Superman, pushing off with his legs. Peter screamed out, “Shit, no!”
The tourist’s vector was completely off, and he started floating away from the Galileo. “Damn it!”
Peter had to make a quick decision as he watched the tourist hysterically swing his arms, trying to change his course, which Peter knew wouldn’t happen. He was concerned how long it would take to retrieve the fleeing spaceman, doubting Carlos would even have enough air in his suit to survive. Chasing down the crazy man could risk killing them all, and if there was one thing he learned from the moon mission, he had too much to live for. The commander pointed toward Carlos. Peter thought for a second before making his decision. He reciprocated by also pointing toward the floating spaceman, but he brought his hand to his neck, doing a “cut throat” signal.
ALL HELL WAS breaking loose in the FKA control room. Dmitri had just witnessed his sister being carried out on a stretcher while he was dealing with a hysterical idiot who just tried to jump from their spacecraft to the Galileo. Now the crazy fool was floating aimlessly in space.
Mission Control’s only remaining line of communication was with Sergei, who was still keeping his cool as he kept them abreast of the situation. “Am…ican signaled to cut Car…s loose. How sh…ld I respond, over?”
Dmitri slammed his fist on his desk. “No! Under no circumstance do you let him float away. Signal Peter he must go after Carlos, now!”
The commander coolly answered, “Roger.”
IT TOOK PETER longer than expected to reach the lost tourist even though he flew the jetpack at full speed. As he approached from behind, he was surprised to see Carlos still erratically flailing his arms and legs. He shook his head. Dumbass, all you’re doing is eating up your oxygen.
Peter wondered if he could successfully capture the out-of-control man. He had to be careful not to get hit or kicked, possibly damaging his spacesuit. He also had to make certain the man did not grab at any of his life support hoses. He shook his head in his helmet. This is a bad idea.
His best option was to ram into the man from behind and catch him off guard. This was the one time he wanted to crash the SAFER. Peter pulled back on the joystick, slowing the jets as he drew near. His aim looked to be dead on. His hope was Carlos would calm down once he was in his grasp. When Peter was ten feet away, he extended his arms and legs like an eagle preparing to snatch its prey. Right before impact, he lifted his left leg to miss a kicking leg as his right leg made contact. His pelvis slammed hard into Carlos’s upper back before he quickly wrapped both legs tightly around the upper body, insuring not to lose his catch. The impact put the tandem into a slow spin.
Peter immediately crossed and locked his ankles in front of Carlos’s chest while the idiot continued to swing and kick. Because Carlos was not cooperating, Peter could not move him up and attach a tether line. Dude, you’re not making this easy. Fortunately, the jetpack’s metal arms were protecting him from being hit by a swinging arm.
He now had to get out of the spin, which would be a trick. On the plus side, with the back of Carlos’s helmet in his gut and his wild arms below the machine’s control panel, Peter had no obstruction blocking either his view or the controls. Come on, Peter, you can do this.
He had to use all of his piloting skills as he delicately worked the stick, gradually gaining control with each movement until he was able to stop the spin. Feeling proud of himself, he blurted out, “How about that?”
They were now upside down in relation to Earth. Peter looked ahead and saw both ships, each with a cosmonaut hanging out looking in his direction. The Galileo appeared to be about two hundred yards away. Carlos’s body had gone limp. Don’t die on me now, dude. Peter assumed he must have passed out due to the lack of oxygen. He quickly put the machine into gear and raced back to his ship.
ANYA’S VISION WAS blurry when she first opened her eyes. She was initially confused about where she was and what had happened. Someone looking down at her spoke. She lifted her hands to her face and rubbed her eyes. When she refocused, her vision was clearer. Right away, she realized she was in Medical, and the man standing over her was a doctor. To her right, a nurse.
“What happened?”
The doctor spoke with a calming voice. “You had an anxiety attack.”
Anya looked away at a bare gray wall, trying to clear her head and piece together those last moments. She remembered sitting at a desk in mission control listening to the rescue of the cosmonauts. Her last memory was hearing Peter was outside of his spacecraft before she started to feel like she was having a heart attack. Instantly she wondered how Peter was. “Have the cosmonauts been saved?”
“The rescue is happening right now.”
Anya ripped off the thin sheet and started to rise up from the bed, destined for the control room. The doctor put his hand on her shoulder, his voice strong. “You’re not going anywhere, young lady.”
Anya ignored the doctor as she continued to sit up in the bed, fighting the dizziness. “I need to get back to mission control. Peter needs me.”
The doctor applied more force to prevent Anya from getting off the bed. “You are staying right here. We don’t want you having another attack. Besides, there’s nothing you can do for those men.”
Anya pushed the doctor’s hand off her. “Let me out of here.”
The doctor aggressively grabbed her shoulders before she felt a sharp prick in her arm. She turned to see the nurse had inserted a needle and was injecting something. “What’s that?”
The doctor’s voice answered soothingly, “Something to calm you down and help you rest.”
She continued to resist, but she was easily losing the battle as her body began to feel weak. Her vision became foggy again as she tried to fight the drug now coursing through her bloodstream. She started to slur her words. “Peter needs me. I need to…” Her whole body went limp as she fell back on the pillow, everything going dark.
OVER THE LAST few minutes, Sergei had been making random and confusing statements, which alarmed Dmitri. After hearing the resilient cosmonaut complain of sharp pains in his shoulders, he was convinced the commander was experiencing the first stages of decompression sickness.
“I feel like a thou…nd tiny insects cra…ling all over my body.”
Skin irritation was a classic symptom of the sickness. Dmitri’s immediate concern was the cosmonaut vomiting in his spacesuit, which could be lethal. “Sergei, you are experiencing decompression sickness. Where is Peter?”
“What?”
“Has Peter reached Carlos?”
“I not h… you, repeat.”
Dmitri spoke louder and slower. “Has the American rescued Carlos?”
The only sound coming through the speakers was heavy breathing with short grunts. Dmitri was getting ready to repeat the question before he heard, “Roger. They are in transit b… to the ship.”
PETER HAD SUCCESSFULLY handed over the unconscious tourist to the engineer, who had been waiting at Galileo’s exit. It was now up to the engineer to get Carlos hooked up to his oxygen pack and attempt to revive him. Hopefully, it wasn’t too late.
Peter needed to focus on saving the commander. His heart rate doubled when he looked down at his air supply indicator and saw a red flashing light signaling he was running low on oxygen. “Damn it!”