‘I think so.’
‘And what about this Gardner character? Any more news on him?’
‘Any information there is on him that hasn’t been deleted will be in Bales’ file.’
‘Which you’ll access with the key card?’
‘Right.’
‘Okay, good work. Looks like we’re really close on this one.’
A bubble of pride swelled in Sean’s chest. Better late than never. ‘Thanks.’
‘Talk to you later.’
Sean hung up the phone. Rain continued to batter the window, as it had done since he’d last spoken to Aleks those few days ago. He really did hope he could trust him.
When Sally awoke, she checked the time to see how long she’d slept, something of a habit she’d developed. To her surprise she’d gone through the night without waking once, and she felt refreshed for it. Wiggling free of her canvas cocoon, she dressed herself and exited her quarters. Finally, finally, she was getting used to sleeping in space. Since the guys hadn’t yet fixed Progress, she wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be sleeping there for, but she was glad that it was making sense to her disorientated brain at last. The mission was supposed to be seven weeks, but she felt sure that no-one here wanted to stay as long as that.
Morning exercise, a wash and then breakfast, she decided. Stretching her sleep-tightened muscles off the rails as she pulled herself along, she yawned a long yawn that was a sorely missed by-product of a good, deep sleep. Slipping from one module to the next, she breezed along with minimal effort, touching a surface here, a surface there, to keep her direction true. If there were any freeze-dried bananas left, she decided she would have some of those. They were no banana milkshake, but they would make a welcome change from the gungy porridge that seemed all too commonplace on this tin-pot station. Up through PMA One she went, along the FGB and into the service module, where the exercise bike lived. Popping two panel fasteners, she unfurled the spindly contraption, swung her leg over the saddle, snapped the bungees into place over her shoulders and started pedalling.
As the virtual miles passed, microdots of perspiration became bulging droplets, each forming a glistening, spherical mound over her pores. She checked her watch — seven minutes to go. Lungs burning, she squeezed out the last few revolutions, slowing as she hit her target. Twice a day every day she’d done this, and still it didn’t seem to get any easier. Panting, she unstrapped herself from the bike and dismounted, retrieving a towel to dry herself off with. She gripped the towel under one arm while she disassembled the bike, occasional stopping to mop fresh sweat from her brow. Then something caught the corner of her eye, and she looked up. The hatch to the FGB — and the rest of the station — was closed. She hadn’t seen or heard it close, yet it was. She attached her towel to the wall and floated over, still not quite believing it. She looked up, and the hatch to MRM Two — the docking port that Romanenko had taken Soyuz from — was also closed. She looked down: the hatch to the MLM was still wide open. The darkness within it seemed to be sucking all the light away, drawing it down into its murky gullet. Bubbling up from its depths like a frothy bile was an energy, fizzing and throbbing, that swelled in time with the heartbeat in Sally’s temples. She tried to cover her ears to block the sensation, but it pushed through into her body, into her head, and she squeezed her eyes tight shut. It was a primal fear that gripped her, made her want to shut everything out, but she knew it was no use. She could feel the force guiding her, steering her down, and even with nothing to see but the blackness of her eyelids, she knew where it was taking her. Then the blackness began to glow blood red, a bright light shining though her eyelids and into her very being. She opened her eyes, shielding them from the brightness with her hand, until they adjusted.
And there it was, UV One. But it was unlike anything she’d ever seen before, a display of colours that folded and spun beyond the visible spectrum. But she could see it, its intensity, and what she saw she understood in a whole new way, as though a door had been opened in her mind and the secrets of the universe had been poured in. The colours stretched out beyond the vessel, growing in a sphere that expanded by the second, engulfing the station and her in it. And then it hit her, a feeling of familiarity, of knowing, like she shared a kinship with another mind. The feeling grew, becoming stronger and stronger, until a torrent of agony scored the insides of her eyeballs, and she screamed, tumbling away from the window. A pair of hands grabbed her by the shoulders, stopping her mid-spin. She blinked, and through her burning, streaming eyes, Gardner came into focus.
‘Are you okay?’ he said.
‘I…’ she croaked. She could barely get the words out.
‘What happened?’
‘I… don’t…’
Gardner looked over her shoulder, out of the window. He turned back to Sally, his face creased with worry. ‘You — you see it too, don’t you?’
Sally nodded. She felt drained. Gardner gripped her shoulders harder, and a strange look came about him. ‘He’s here…’ he said.
‘Who… who’s here?’
Gardner looked around, eyes distant. ‘God.’
Cold liquid ran through Sally’s veins as, with a sudden clarity, she realised what had happened to him on TMA Eight. ‘You mean… you mean you’ve seen this before?’
Gardner nodded. He was looking out of the window rather than at her. ‘He’s been here a long time, watching, waiting,’ he said. ‘I tried to ignore him at first, but I couldn’t. He’s just so beautiful.’ His eyes bulged with tears, the Earthlight catching the shimmer and the puffy red skin around them. He let go of Sally and hugged himself. ‘I couldn’t bear to go,’ he said, wiping his eyes on his sleeves. ‘It — it broke my heart to leave him behind.’
Sally felt an odd sympathy for him, seeing this strong, confident man reduced to a fragile child. ‘Are you talking about UV One?’
‘I want to do what he’s asked me to do,’ Gardner continued, ignoring Sally. ‘But I don’t think I can do it. I’m too weak…’
‘Hey, are you both okay?’ a voice said from above, making Gardner jump. Sally looked up to see Novitskiy hovering overhead, his pasty face reflecting concern back down at them. ‘I heard screaming.’
‘We’re fine,’ Sally said, but as she did Gardner pushed passed Novitskiy and out of the MLM.
Novitskiy watched him leave, and when he turned back to Sally his look of concern had grown into one of fear. ‘I don’t think he’s holding up well. He’s doing even worse than Chris.’
‘I’m not sure any of us are doing particularly well,’ Sally said, folding her arms to try and mute a shiver. ‘How long until Progress is fixed?’ Novitskiy didn’t answer. He looked guilty; Sally knew he was hiding something. ‘Tell me! How long?’
Novitskiy fiddled with a seam on his coveralls. He seemed to be orchestrating an internal debate, determining whether or not he would tell her something. He stopped fiddling. The debate was won. ‘We can’t fix Progress,’ he said, looking down at himself.
‘What?’ Sally breathed, the chill in her veins now ice cold.
‘There’s too much damage to the airlock seal. There’s no way to repair it without replacement parts.’
‘Well what about the comms — they still work, right?’
‘The batteries have frozen because of the decompression. They’re dead.’
‘How long have you known this?’
‘Two days.’
‘So why didn’t you tell me then?’
Novitskiy scratched at his stubbly beard. ‘We didn’t want you to give up hope.’
‘Give up hope? What do you mean? NASA knows what happened to Progress, surely they’ll be sending a rescue mission? Right?’ Sally realised she was yelling, her chest rising and falling as hot anger boiled within her. ‘Sorry…’ she said, unballing her fists. ‘I didn’t mean to shout at you.’