No. This is my fate and mine alone.
He turned his head to look at Jupiter, and it felt as though the planet was staring back at him, making eye contact. He was close enough now that he could see the massive storms that raged across the planet. He was close enough that he could feel them with his wind manipulation, even through what had to be thousands of miles of empty space.
My… wind manipulation?
Malcolm flinched in surprise. He could feel the wind on Jupiter with his powers. They’d finally returned to him, so long after he’d given up hope. And now, of all times, when it was already past the point of being helpful.
But was it past that point? He reached with his hand and slowly flexed the glove of the spacesuit. There had always been a limit to how far he could extend his powers out, but he’d never considered whether it was a static limit or something influenced by what filled the space between him and his target. There was nothing but empty space between him and Jupiter.
I have to give it a try.
Part of him was afraid to try, afraid of letting hope pull him up only to sink him further into a pit of despair and failure. Malcolm reminded himself that if he was going to die either way, then it didn’t matter in the end. He took a deep, calming breath, and focused.
It was so hard. His awareness of Jupiter’s atmosphere was a tenuous thing, like seeing vague outlines in a darkened room. He gritted his teeth and squeezed every muscle in his body in concentration. He called out to the winds of Jupiter, summoning them with all the concentrated will his powers would allow, and pulled.
The effect was tiny at first. Malcolm saw a small, distinct, orange bump rise upward on Jupiter’s atmosphere, like one of the bumps on a basketball. Slowly, it extended upward, the atmosphere pooling around the base of it as it formed into a thin pillar of hydrogen, ammonia, and methane. He called it toward him, urging it to his rescue, and watched it approach as a rushing stream of gas, cutting through space with a mind of its own.
Sweat trickled down Malcolm’s face. He didn’t know how long he’d been focusing for. At least several minutes had gone by, maybe close to an hour. The ominous chime was incessant now, his spacesuit’s life support system sharing in his panic.
The wind manipulated pillar of atmosphere reached him just as the chime became a screeching siren. Malcolm had only pulled up enough of it push him in the direction he needed to go, and already he could feel the vacuum of space sapping the gas out of his control. He pushed himself away from the planet, toward a light in the distance that he prayed was his ship.
Malcolm struggled to stay conscious. No matter how much he gasped for air, he couldn’t satisfy his lungs with the thinning levels of oxygen left in his suit. He could see it now. The ship was ahead of him. Black dots mottled his vision. He gave himself one final push with what little of Jupiter’s atmosphere he still had behind him, throwing himself into the airlock.
“Tapestry…” he muttered, voice weak.
He banged on the inner airlock door and hoped.
CHAPTER 23
The outer airlock door closed, and the airlock pressurized. Malcolm could breathe again, which told him that the crack in his helmet had probably been worse than he’d thought. He grinned like an idiot, feeling more pride in himself than he’d ever felt in his entire life.
As the inner airlock door opened, Tapestry slowly came into view on the other side. Her hair was messy, and the front of the astronaut jumpsuit she wore was stained with tears. She pulled him into a hug, wrapping her arms around his suit, and let out a body shaking sob.
“Malcolm!” she cried. “Oh my god, Malcolm! I was so worried!”
“I’m okay,” he said. “And I was pretty worried too.”
“Oh Malcolm…” Tapestry pulled back, but only slightly. She let out a strangled laugh. “I can’t believe it. How… I had the sensors search the area for you. Where were you?”
Malcolm pulled her back into a hug, suddenly feeling like he needed to have her even closer. He was back, and she was there with him, and everything was right in the world. He felt like he could cry, too.
“It’s a long story,” he said. “And I don’t completely understand it, myself.”
He pulled his helmet off, determined to give her a kiss, even if it only found its way to her cheek. He grinned at Tapestry, and then frowned as he saw the confusion in her expression. Confusion which quickly shifted to horror, and then to total despair. She brought her hands to her mouth and shook her head.
“No…” Tapestry’s body shook with another silent sob. “No! Why…?”
Malcolm was stunned by her sudden shift.
“What?” he said. “What is it?”
“Again!” she screamed. “Not again… Why… What did I do to deserve this a second time?”
Malcolm gaped at her. He reached a hand out to set onto her shoulder. She pulled back as though it were the red-hot tip of a fire brand.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “I’m alive. You don’t have to –”
“Malcolm...” She wiped a hand across her eyes and put more distance between them. “Don’t come any closer!”
Her tone of voice triggered something inside of Malcolm. He looked down at his helmet, staring into his own reflection in the faceplate. What he saw there made his insides twist into a knot.
His skin was several shades darker than he remembered it being, with a hint of blue to its tone. A dozen or more small bumps ran around the crown of his skull in a circle. Malcolm crumpled, hanging where he was in zero gravity, but bending at the knees in an attempt to fall to them.
“Tapestry!” he cried. “Please, wait! I didn’t know!”
There was no response. He had no idea where she’d gone to on the ship.
I didn’t know. How did I not know?
He started after her, and then realized how it would seem if he confronted her and tried to make her understand. It was just the two of them aboard the ship. The circumstances couldn’t have been any more confining. Would they even stand a chance at making it back to Earth without Malcolm, now a demon, having an episode? Would he kill her if he did, a monster out of control, on a rampage that would be impossible to escape?
“No!” shouted Malcolm. “No…”
He pulled off the space suit and flung its pieces wide. Running his hands through his hair, Malcolm considered his options and knew that he only had one that made any sense, if he truly cared about Tapestry.
The inner airlock door was still open. Malcolm floated back through it, resting his hands on his knees as he floated in the center of the space. He let himself spin to face back toward the rest of the ship.
“I’m in the airlock, Tapestry,” he called. “You know… what needs to happen.”
He remembered waking up in his spacesuit. It felt like days ago, rather than less than an hour. He’d thought that dying in space alone, away from his friends, was his worst nightmare. Malcolm almost laughed out loud at how wrong he’d been. This was so much worse. The horror he’d seen on Tapestry’s face was so much more painful.
The inner airlock door slowly slid closed. Malcolm nodded, glad that she had the courage to do what needed to be done. He knew there was a feed from the airlock to the cockpit, and he let his eyes scan the wall until he saw the camera.
“It’s okay,” he said. “This is my decision as much as it is yours, Tapestry. I don’t want to hurt anybody. I don’t want to hurt you.”
There was a strange irony to it. Malcolm had been one of the proponents of reform inside the Champion Authority. He’d wanted a different solution to the problem of demons and sprytes other than summary execution.