by CJ Birch
If she’d slapped me in the face, I couldn’t be more stunned.
She fastens my left glove to the suit. I’m about to protest, but she takes my helmet and places it over my head, ending the discussion.
*
I wake up on the med deck with that same pressure of panic as before. I have no idea how I got here or what happened to me. The last thing I remember is the captain placing a helmet over my head. Everything else is a black hole. Shit.
I try to sit up but get pushed back down by a strong, hairy hand. “Not so fast, Lieutenant.”
“How long have I been here?” I’m wearing a medical gown, and there are several sensors stuck to my arms and chest.
“Only a few hours,” says Dr. Len Prashad.
I met him during my medical when I first signed on board. He swipes a screen to his right, bringing up my vitals. His broad, stocky shoulders are hunched over slightly, the intensity of his observations evident. The blue glow from the screen paints his deep brown skin an eerie color.
“What happened?” I create a mental checklist of all the things I did on the last two spacewalks, all the protocols I followed, and find nothing that would cause an accident. Whatever happened must be external, but I’m the only patient in here.
“You don’t remember?”
I shake my head.
His fingers glide over the screen, endless points of data—heart rate, blood pressure, brain chemicals—flash past. “Your body shut down.”
“Shut down? What does that mean? Did I pass out?” Please tell me I didn’t faint. I try to sit up again, but he places a hand on my shoulder, keeping me flat on the bed. His face is kind, and deep wrinkles branch out from the corners of his eyes. He’s one of the exceptions to the age restriction; I’d place him in his early fifties. Everyone else on board is thirty-five and under. I wonder if that makes him feel out of place.
“I can’t describe it better than that. Corporal Ito will be here shortly to explain the events. What I can tell you, though,” he waves a screen with several bar charts into place and points to one of the lines, “is that your cortisol levels are abnormally high.” He must see the confusion on my face and smiles. “It’s a chemical your adrenal gland makes in times of stress. I’ve checked your previous medical records, and this is new. I wouldn’t be too worried. Prolonged exposure will suppress your immune system, though, among other things.” He waves his hand, and another screen slides into view. “You also have very low serotonin levels and high dopamine levels. Have you been having trouble sleeping?”
I nod. None of this tells me anything I want to know. “What’s wrong with me?”
He chuckles. “In a word? Stressed. Your body is reacting the only way it knows how. It’s releasing all sorts of chemicals to counteract your anxiety, and as a result, other chemicals are being suppressed, which is what’s causing your insomnia.” He reaches out and removes a sensor from my right temple. “Most of this can be regulated through diet. I’ll make a note in your file which foods will help.” He makes quick work of removing the other sensors and helps me sit up. “The other thing is your work schedule.”
I groan, “Not you, too.” My work schedule is the only thing keeping me sane. When I’m not working, my mind races out of control.
He sits down next to me and his head barely reaches my shoulders. “Let me guess, you’re working yourself exhausted because it’s the only way you can get to sleep when you need it? And when you’re not working you feel like you’re not doing enough, so you find more to do to calm it all down. Trust me when I say this, if you slow down and manage your diet better, that feeling will go away. It feels counterproductive, but self-medicating with more work is actually causing the issue in the first place.”
I debate whether to tell him what’s really causing my anxiety. Maybe he’ll be more understanding than the doctors on Alpha. I push that thought out the minute Ito walks in.
“Lieutenant! Thank God you’re okay.”
“What happened?” I feel like I might punch something or someone if I don’t find out soon.
She shakes her head and frowns. “It was strange. Everything was going fine. We were almost done and then…” She pauses, hands folded across her chest, eyes raised to the ceiling searching for words. “You started—you grabbed one of the Allen wrenches and began dismantling one of the locking clamps as if you were trying to take it apart. And before anyone could reach you, you just sort of shut down.”
I stare at her, realize my mouth has fallen open, and shut it. I lick my lips. My mouth has gone dry. This doesn’t even sound like me. “I passed out?” A million emotions surge through me: fear, confusion, anxiety, and most prominent, embarrassment.
“I guess so. Thankfully, you were tethered to the ship. We had to pull you back in, and you were definitely unconscious.” Is it pity or sympathy I see on her face? I’m not sure, but I don’t welcome either.
I turn to Dr. Prashad. “Am I free to go?”
He nods but gives me a warning list of dos and don’ts. Also, he tells me I’ve been pulled from active duty for the next two days.
That night I stare at my ceiling, forcing myself to remember something, anything from those missing forty-five minutes. Why was I trying to dismantle the locking clamp? And more to the point, what happened on Europa SS? It’s been two months, and I still can’t remember anything more than the first month there.
I can’t lie still another moment. The doctor said I couldn’t perform duties for the next two days, he didn’t say anything about running.
I slip on running shoes, shorts, and a T-shirt. I grab my towel and bag. As I swipe my door locked, I notice the clock on my bedside table. It reads zero three hundred. Good, I’ll have the track to myself.
I ease into my run, letting my muscles warm gradually through the first few laps. The stars stand in stark contrast to the surrounding space, like tiny pinpricks in a black sheet. With the lights dimmed on the ship, it is almost like running through space. I feel as if I could reach my hand out and touch the glowing spheres. Like cupping a million tiny worlds.
When I was little, my mom used to sing to me. The one I would request most often was “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,” an old Earth song her grandmother sang to her when she was little. I used to imagine that I was the little girl sitting at my bedroom window, looking up at the stars, wondering what they were. I wanted to see them twinkle. I’d only ever seen them through three meters of metallic glass. Up here, where there’s no atmosphere and turbulence to refract the star’s light, they never even scintillate. Maybe one day my grandkids will hear that song, and not have to wonder what a twinkling star looks like.
When I get back to my cabin, I throw my bag and fling myself on my bed, fully clothed. As my head hits the pillow, my eyes close, and I sleep. Real sleep. Like I’m dead.
When I wake, I’m in an unfamiliar white room, and my heart slams against my chest. My mind and body are awake in an instant. I sit up and see that I know exactly where I am. I’ve seen it once before on the tour the captain gave me. I’m in the brig.
Chapter Seven
I lie on the bed, feet propped up on the wall, hands resting on my chest. I’ve been here long enough that I’m missing the soybeans and lentils from the mess. My stomach growls just to rub in how hungry I am. I’ve already banged on the door until my knuckles bled. I’ve screamed until my throat collapsed. I’ve plugged the camera hole above the door with a combination of spit and a ripped section of sheet. But still, no one’s come.
Now I lie here with a full mind and no answers. I have no explanation for how I ended up here. The last thing I remember is falling on my bed exhausted.
Several more hours pass, at least, I feel they do. And just when I think I could die of boredom, I hear someone on the other side of the door. I sit up hoping I’ll finally get answers. But when it swishes open, it’s that dick corporal who first showed me to the captain’s quarters. He’s carrying a food tray with a large helping of soybeans, lentil
s, and a beef stew concoction that I know will be made of tofu. The smell meets my empty stomach, which crows in greeting.
He leans against the door frame. The smirk he gives me pulls at a dark purple bruise along his jaw, and he doesn’t speak or place the tray on the ground. He just watches me for several minutes. I stare back. He makes a weird guttural noise in the back of his throat, spits in my food, and leaves the tray on the floor.
What the hell is happening? Any theories I had just died with that—I don’t even know what to call that. That’s not payback for adding an exercise regime to his schedule.
I don’t bother with the food. Instead I lie back down, place my feet back on the wall, and wait. It’s not long before I hear the door slide open again. I continue to stare at the ceiling. Until I hear her voice.
“Lieutenant.”
I whirl into a sitting position. The captain is standing in the hallway, her hand gripping the frame as if she’s afraid to enter. She looks exhausted. There are dark smudges under her eyes, made all the more prominent by her pale skin. And her hair, which is usually styled tightly into a French twist, has been pulled back into a lazy ponytail.
“What am I doing here?” I say it so quietly. But I want to shout it, to scream it in her face.
She nods to someone outside the room and steps inside. The door closes behind her.
“What am I doing here?” I say it again, more forcefully this time.
She leans against the door, her hands looped behind her back. “You don’t remember?” She looks down at the untouched tray of food and back to me.
I take a deep breath and hug my legs to my chest. I’m in the brig, most of me doesn’t want to remember. I shake my head. “The last thing I remember is leaving the change room and heading to my cabin to sleep.”
“That’s the last thing you remember?” Her eyebrows arch, an incredulous look on her face.
Oh, God. “I woke up here.” Does this have something to do with my attempt to dismantle the locking clamp? Did they find out why? My whole body is vibrating like it’s going to tear apart from the inside.
She pushes off the wall and sinks onto the bed next to me, hooking her leg to face me. “You’ve been here, unconscious, for two days.”
I grab her arm, forcing her to look at me. “Why am I in here?”
“You attacked Hartley.”
“I what?” I let go. I don’t believe her. “Why would I attack Hartley? Is he okay?” Please let him be okay.
She nods. “He’s fine. Dr. Prashad cleared him for duty a day ago.” There’s something more she wants to add, her mouth even opens to say it, but she closes it again.
I spring off the bed and slap the opposite wall of the cell. The vibrations have gotten worse. I’m full of restless energy like my panic is a star building toward supernova. “Shit, shit, shit.” I start pacing. I need it out, if not, it’s going to explode.
“You have no idea why you attacked him?” She clasps her hands in her lap, watching me like I’m a pendulum on a clock.
I’m still pacing, brushing each wall with my fingers as I pass. Trying to remember. But all I get is a black hole. “He’s the only person on this ship who truly likes me. Why would I ruin that by attacking him?”
“That’s not true.” She looks like she wants to say more, but right now I can’t hear it.
And that’s when I notice. How did I get in uniform? I look down. Even my boots are latched. My black pants are tucked into them, my blue tunic buttoned up my throat. I run my hands down the front. There’s blood on one of my sleeves. Is it Hartley’s?
“The last thing you remember is getting to your cabin? You remember everything that happened before then?” The tightness of her voice, her posture, everything in her manner, tells me she doesn’t believe a word I’m saying.
“I remember being ordered to stop doing my job.” It’s childish, I know, but I can’t help myself. I’m terrified and frustrated.
She rolls her eyes at me like I’m a teenager arguing over curfew. “I didn’t ask you to stop doing your job, only the job of half the crew.”
“It’s like I’ve been sleepwalking and ended up here with no idea how.” I rub my knuckles, encrusted blood flakes off.
“I find it hard to believe that you can’t remember anything. You weren’t exactly passive. You put Hartley and two security guards in the med center.”
I nudge the food tray with my boot. “One of those wouldn’t happen to be the guy who just brought me my food, would it?”
“You elbowed him in the jaw.”
“Is that all?” He needs to learn how to take a punch.
“Come on.” She stands and beckons toward the door. “Dr. Prashad wants to take a look at you.” She knocks, and it clicks and swishes open. Two security guards sit at a post on the other side of the door. Both are watching us.
“And if I don’t want to go?”
She grabs my elbow and pushes me through the door. “It’s not a request. We want to figure out what’s going on as much as you do, Ash.”
I unbutton my tunic. Dr. Prashad ordered the security guards to wait outside, so it’s only the doctor, the captain, and Chloe—Dr. Prashad’s nurse. She tucks herself into a corner, gripping an empty instrument tray to her chest, her face as pale as her hair.
I’m still nervous. What are they going to find? I shrug off my jacket and fold it over a chair. I bend and unlatch my boots, slipping them off from the heel and placing each under the chair. “How far do you want me to go?”
“The pants, too. I’ll need access to your hip.” Dr. Prashad is busy arranging tools on a tray next to the bed.
I unbutton my pants and slip them down my legs. I wouldn’t usually call myself self-conscious. You kind of lose that part of yourself during basic training. I guess showering with twenty people and only one showerhead will do that. Both the captain and Chloe are watching me undress like I’m about to sprout two heads. Thank God, I had the foresight to put on a nice pair of underwear. It’s nerve-wracking when you don’t remember. I fold my pants and place them over my tunic and roll off both my socks and ball them into my boots. I sit on the bed in my undershirt and underwear.
Dr. Prashad lifts a black cube between gloved fingers, so tiny I can hardly see it. “I’m going to insert this in at your hip. It will travel to the base of your spine and then up until it reaches your brain stem. It has a camera here,” he points to a spot I can’t see with his pinkie, “and these sensors,” he holds it in his palm so I can get a better look at the sides, “will relay data back to this console.” He places it back on the tray and picks up a large syringe. “I need you to lie down now.”
I don’t budge. “What is that?”
He shows me the capsule he’s placed in the holder like I’m supposed to understand what it means. “It’ll put you out for the procedure.”
I’m already shaking my head before he’s finished. “No. I don’t want to be put out. I want to know what’s going on.” Terror surges from my center to the tips of my fingers. The way I feel right now, I don’t ever want to sleep again.
He touches my arm. With me sitting and him standing, we’re at eye level. “It’s very painful. You don’t want to be awake for it.” He has kind eyes, and I know I should trust him, but I don’t. I can’t even trust myself right now. I grip the bed and stare wide-eyed.
Chloe busies herself at the monitor setting up the parameters of my vitals on the console. The captain hasn’t moved since we entered. She stands just to the side, leaning against the wall.
“I’d rather have the pain than not know what’s going on,” I say.
“You’ll know what we know as soon as you’re awake.” He tries to ease me down.
“No.” I jump off the bed and back myself into a corner, facing him and the captain. I must look like a kid afraid of needles. Even though I’m in my underwear, I’ll fight anyone who tries to come near me. I will not let them put me under. I search around for something to grab and use as a weapon. The
only thing I have to work with is a chair. It’s hard metal. I might get one down. I’ll go for the captain first. She’s the only one here who’s a threat. I know I can take the doctor and Chloe without any problems.
The captain lifts off the wall. She doesn’t approach me, though. Instead she turns to the doctor. “Can you do it without putting her to sleep?” She keeps her eyes on me the whole time. Is she afraid I’m going to attack?
He looks aghast. His mouth drops open like he couldn’t imagine such a thing.
Shit, this is going to hurt. “Please?” I’m not above a little begging.
He shakes his head like he’s saying no, but puts the syringe back on his tray. “Fine.” He’s still shaking his head, and I realize it’s in exasperation. I tend to have that effect on people.
Chapter Eight
I lean back on the exam bed but don’t close my eyes, even though I want to. When I was a kid, my cousin and I used to play this game. Late at night we would sneak out to the animal compounds on the far edge of the station. Each pen was surrounded by electrical fences to keep the animals from wandering off. The voltage wasn’t enough to kill you, but it was sufficient to hurt like a bitch and give you a raging headache. The first to chicken out would have to do the other’s chores for a week. I always won. Not because I was braver. I won because I didn’t think before I did it. I would just grab the fence and hold on, breathing through the pain.
This will hurt. And I have no control over the procedure. That’s what scares me the most.
Dr. Prashad places a supportive hand on my shoulder. “If you insist on being awake, you should probably switch to your stomach. You won’t feel the pressure on your back as much.”
I know he’s just trying to help, but I can’t turn over. “I’m okay like this.”
“Fine, then.” He pulls the edge of my underwear down and swabs my hip. Chloe passes him a scalpel. It pauses a few centimeters from my skin. “You’re sure you don’t want to change your mind?”
