Sean Jacob — Journalist
‘It’s beautiful…’ Sally whispered, nose almost pressed against the window. When at last she broke herself away from the view, she was met by the hollow stares of both Novitskiy and Williams, who had moved in close behind her. She hadn’t noticed them, and for a moment she felt locked in, before realising they were staring past her and into space.
‘You’re Williams, yes?’ Sally asked the balding man in as calm a voice as she could muster. Like Novitskiy, his chin too had an unkempt patchwork of beard sprouting from it.
‘Uh huh,’ he said, his words slow and slurred. He blinked, and a more alert state of consciousness seemed to snap on. ‘But you can call me Chris.’
‘Okay, Chris,’ Sally said, nerves tingling, ‘what can you tell me about UV One?’
‘UV what?’ Chris said, looking confused.
‘The vessel,’ Sally said, pointing back over her shoulder with her thumb.
Chris shook his head. ‘There’s nothing to tell. It just floats there, following us — watching us.’
Watching us?
‘What do you mean by that?’
Chris raised his eyebrows, as if it were a question he’d never asked himself before. ‘I don’t really know,’ he said. ‘I just — feel it.’ He looked straight at Sally, his cold blue eyes glinting in the Earthlight. ‘You will too. You wait and see.’
A sudden blanket of claustrophobia smothered Sally, shrink-wrapped and close. Her skin itched with sweat.
‘Do you know where Major Romanenko is, Chris?’ Gardner asked, his voice loud in the silence.
Chris broke his gaze away from Sally and looked at Gardner. ‘He’s gone.’
‘Gone where?’
‘I dunno. He took Soyuz.’
‘Shit…’ Gardner muttered.
So that’s were Soyuz had gone. Sally’s stomach dropped when she realised they had no way to get home. It was a sickening thought that she tried to ignore, but couldn’t. Gardner seemed to be grappling with the same revelation. He chewed his lip, a distant look in his eyes.
‘Shall I show you to your quarters? Novitskiy asked, breaking Gardner from his daze.
‘Sure. Why not.’
Novitskiy led the way, and he, Gardner and Sally drifted back through the station to the American end. As they neared the rear airlock, Novitskiy stopped himself on a handrail. ‘This is the Harmony module,’ he told them, ‘and these are your quarters.’ He pulled open the narrow door on a tent-like unit that wasn’t much larger than a cupboard. Inside, a sleeping bag nestled against the wall. ‘The other one is on the opposite side,’ he said, pointing to an identical unit. ‘The toilet, if you need it, is that unit over there.’
Sally looked where he was pointing and remembered she’d needed to go earlier. Her bladder twinged anew.
‘If you’ll excuse me,’ she said. She looked to Gardner who, after realising she was asking permission, nodded.
‘Well, I’ll leave you both to it,’ Novitskiy said, rubbing his hands together. He turned tail and slipped off towards the Russian end.
‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ Sally said, heading to the toilet.
Gardner was investigating his quarters. ‘Take all the time you need.’
She guided herself into the tiny cubicle, pulling the doors shut behind her. She had been shown how the system worked in her weeks of training, and so she did what she remembered: remove her coveralls, sit at the lavatory, affix the suction unit. It was an odd fit, but she managed it, and she used the time to shut her eyes and let the unimpeded quiet wash over her. Questions popped off in her head like fireworks, the fiery spray of each one obscuring the next until she didn’t know what she was really thinking at all. The faint nick of a headache gnawed at the cavity behind her shut eyes as the thoughts quietened, leaving her head empty but for one: It floats there, watching us.
She wondered what had caused Romanenko to take Soyuz, leaving his crewmates and duty behind. It was obvious that the psychological effects of being isolated up here with UV One were enough to make any man nervous, but Romanenko’s reaction seemed unbefitting someone of such experience and training. It just didn’t make sense. And why hadn’t he made it back to Earth? Surely he knew how to pilot Soyuz? Perhaps there was a failure on board. Perhaps he panicked. Perhaps it wasn’t as simple as jumping in and setting a course for home.
A tapping noise jolted her from her daydream, and she bumped her head against the plastic roof of the cubicle.
‘Are you okay in there?’ came Gardner’s voice through the door. ‘You’ve been a while.’
Sally righted her mind again and pulled herself back to reality, remembering she was sitting on a toilet.
‘Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be out in a sec,’ she called back.
She returned the suction unit to its holster, redressed and exited.
‘Everything okay?’ Gardner asked, concern lacing both his tone and expression.
‘Sure. I was just dozing. I’m pretty tired.’
‘Yeah, me too.’ He looked around as if checking to see if anyone was listening, before turning back to Sally and speaking in a low voice. ‘Look, they seem okay. A little traumatised perhaps, but okay. I reckon we’re safe to get some sleep now. We can resume our mission with fresh minds tomorrow.’
That made sense to Sally. ‘You’re probably right,’ she said, yawning at the thought of a warm bunk.
They clambered into their respective quarters, and Sally zipped up her door behind her. Wriggling her way into the upright sleeping bag, she clicked the light off and shut her eyes, and within minutes she was asleep. She slept without a single dream and did not stir for almost ten hours.
When she awoke, it took her senses a good long minute to re-acclimatize to where she was. Her quarters were cramped, the air was close, and the folds of her limbs were clammy with night sweat. She peeled herself from the sleeping bag and emerged into the Harmony module, where she stretched her whinging muscles out. Gardner’s quarters were already open and empty. The Harmony module was deserted. Yawning, she paddled her way along the station to the galley and, sure enough, Gardner was there, alone.
‘Where are the others?’ Sally asked, hanging from a rail.
Gardner, who was eating, shrugged. ‘Sleeping, I think. I haven’t seen them. Here, I prepared you some breakfast.’
Sally joined him, and they ate together. It was a strange experience: the intimate and vulnerable state of the breakfast meal combined with the knowledge of their location, and indeed their mission. It made for an uneasy feeling in her stomach. She picked at the food with none of the appetite of yesterday, while Gardner ate on.
‘Why do you think Romanenko left?’ she said, playing with a globule of porridge as it tumbled on the spot in front of her.
‘Dunno,’ Gardner said through a mouthful.
‘I wonder if it has anything to do with what Chris said?’
‘What did Chris say?’
‘You know — about being watched.’
Gardner dismissed her with a look. ‘I dunno,’ he repeated.
‘Don’t you want to know?’ Sally asked, frustration growing at Gardner’s disinterest.
He stopped eating. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’m here to get you to the station and keep you safe for the duration of the mission. I don’t know or want to know what’s going on with’ — he waved his hands around — ‘all this. I’m not in the habit of poking sleeping bears.’
He resumed eating. Sally scooped the floating porridge into her mouth and swallowed it down.
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘At least I know not to ask.’