‘Stay close to me.’
Sally recognised the wariness in his voice: it was the same feeling that troubled her gut as well. They both watched the Russian scoot into a module and out of sight.
‘I’ll guess your sizes — don’t be insulted if I get them wrong!’ he shouted to them.
Before long he was back with two pairs of coveralls similar to the ones he was clothed in, which he handed to them with a grin. He was either ignoring the ashen look Gardner was already wearing — Sally assumed she looked about the same — or he just didn’t see it. They dressed in silence while Novitskiy helped himself to something more to eat.
‘I love the food you Americans have,’ he said wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. ‘Every visit to your food supply is another sweet surprise. Normally everything we eat is monitored, but not any more.’
Sally pulled the zip to the top and fastened the Velcro strip across it, trying not to take her eyes off the small Russian for too long at a time. Gardner was done, and remained where he floated.
‘Come and sit down,’ Novitskiy said, patting the table. ‘I’ll get you some food. Do you like sausages? We have some quite delicious bangers and mash’ — he forced a strange interpretation of an American accent onto the name — ‘ that I can get for you.’ He paused, looking bemused. ‘Or is bangers and mash British? I forget.’
Still beaming, he glided to a wall-mounted compartment and retrieved fresh food pouches for his guests. He fed them into another compartment, shut the small door behind them and jabbed a button. ‘It won’t be long. Please — sit down,’ he said.
Sally looked to Gardner, and he nodded, so she followed him to the table where they both waited in silence. A ping, and the food was done. Novitskiy retrieved the pouches and passed them to Sally and Gardner, who took them. Sally tore the nozzle open and, with trepidation, started to eat. The first mouthful was nauseating — because of nerves, not taste — but the second went down with ease. Her stomach rumbled in agreement as she squeezed food into her mouth, and her light-headedness began to fade. Novitskiy watched on, looking pleased. When the food was finished, he took the pouches and disposed of them, and sent two drink cartons tumbling their way.
‘Catch,’ he said, a playful lilt to his voice.
Sally did, and Gardner too. Having plucked the tumbling pack from the air, she quenched her thirst. The silence as she drank was almost buzzing in her ears, yet Novitskiy did not seem to take offence — if he had even noticed. He continued grinning, watching the pair of them nourish themselves on his provisions. Her body and mind refreshed, Sally was able to think clear thoughts. The thoughts smouldered into questions, which in turn burned upon her tongue. But as much as she wanted to spit them out, she waited, leaving the situation to Gardner’s discretion. She gave him a look she thought said all that, and the slight hint of worried resignation on his face seemed to confirm he’d understood. He sealed his water pack, stuck it down onto the table and cleared his throat.
‘Where are the others?’ he said, the bold, matter-of-fact tone he’d attempted cracking towards the end.
Novitskiy shrugged, his pleasant humour unwavering.
‘Williams, the American — he’s down in the MLM,’ he said, pointing to an open hatch in the floor.
‘What’s he doing down there?’
‘Watching, I suppose. He spends a lot of his time down there now.’
‘And Romanenko?’
Novitskiy’s pleasantness faded a fraction, if only in his eyes, but it returned before he spoke again.
‘He had to leave.’
Sally frowned. What are you talking about? she wanted to say, to yell, but she didn’t dare.
‘Leave?’ Gardner asked.
Novitskiy shrugged again, like a schoolboy who didn’t want to tattle. ‘I don’t know. You’d have to ask him.’
‘But he’s gone, right?’
‘Yes.’
Novitskiy’s short answer and sliding pleasance indicated the conversation had reached a dead end, and Sally looked from one man to the other as they considered each other. This odd relationship was evolving fast — too fast.
‘Can you take me to Williams?’ Gardner said.
Novitskiy’s beaming expression returned. ‘Sure. Follow me.’
He turned, gliding in his organic way, and darted down towards the MLM. Gardner beckoned Sally to follow, and she trailed behind him as they went after Novitskiy. As they plummeted down, the disorientating somersault gripped Sally’s full stomach and she slowed, pausing to shut her eyes and take a breath. Her bubbling insides churned, then eased. She released her breath in a gentle blow.
‘Good god, Sally, you’ve got to come see this,’ Gardner called out from below.
Dinner under control, Sally opened her eyes and pushed on into the MLM, which opened up into a dim shell with a few soft storage bags and an airlock at the far end. Gardner and Novitskiy had joined a stocky, balding man — Williams, she presumed. All three focussed their attention on a small window. As Sally drew alongside them, a gasp escaped her as she saw what they saw: a shimmering, black object, trapezoidal in shape, tracking their orbit a few hundred metres behind.
Aleks had been in that cylindrical room more times than he could remember, yet today it felt like the first visit all over again. The usual people were there, using the usual equipment; the usual hum radiated through the air as chatter and air-con sang in harmony. But, as a flagpole claims the land in which it penetrates, Bales stood in the centre of Mission Control, his command absolute. As Aleks approached his station, Bales gravitated towards him, his dominance radiating from him like heat from a fire. Aleks could almost feel it burn.
‘Good afternoon, Aleks,’ he said, taking a seat next to him. ‘Did you have an opportunity to think about our little discussion?’
The mere sound of Bales’ voice made Aleks want to throw up.
‘I know what you did,’ he said, the words tasting bitter in his mouth. ‘I know what you did to Lev.’
‘An unfortunate accident from what I hear,’ Bales said, pulling a sombre face, ‘and I am truly saddened to be made aware of it.’
A hot throb swelled in Aleks’ temples. The fire was raging, and he needed to get away from it before it consumed him. ‘I’m sure you are.’
Bales gave him a thin smile. ‘So I trust you’ll be dedicating yourself to the program,’ he said, ‘to the others here, to those on board the ISS whose safety is reliant upon our performance?’
Aleks thought his teeth might crack his jaw was clenched so hard. He could almost see the fire twinkling in Bales’ eyes. ‘Fine,’ he said at last. He felt hollow, as though he had just coughed up his soul. But it was necessary, and he had to remind himself of that. It was necessary.
Bales nodded. If he was revelling in Aleks’ defeat, he didn’t show it. ‘Thank you, Aleks. You’ve made a wise decision.’ His face wrinkled into a snarl and he leaned in close to whisper, ‘But if you do neglect your duty, you will be finished…’
He lingered, the fire heating his breath, then stood back and gave Aleks the thin smile again. ‘Thank you for your time, and I’m sorry for your loss.’
Bales returned to his post. Aleks couldn’t help but stare at the back of his head, revulsion making his hands quiver. Sure, he would do what Bales told him to do. He would sit at his desk like the trained lapdog he was, pressing buttons and flicking switches. But he would be watching. Watching and learning. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of card, a business card, given to him by his late friend, Lev Ryumin. It read: