Despite only speaking a few words of Russian, Jack found himself getting along better on this side of the ‘Iron Curtain’ … yes, it existed. There was a barrier between the Russians and the rest, no matter how much everyone insisted they were all colleagues working towards shared goals. It was the language barrier, but not just that. A hint of coolness in the air. A slight reserve on both sides.
Jack came to believe it started with the other Westerners taking their cues from Menelaou. The station chief never behaved less than professionally, but now and then she made a throwaway comment that revealed her political views. She was such a hardcore neocon, she could’ve understudied for Dick Cheney.
But Jack himself was a brick in the wall, too. Hell, he couldn’t even tell Alexei and the other guys what the Atlantis’s last mission had been about. Because bloody Frostbite spied on the Russians as well.
Thank God there weren’t any Chinese on the ISS, anyway! The atmosphere would have been so frigid, they’d have frost on the inside of the portholes.
Staying aloof from the tensions as best he could, Jack loitered in the Cupola whenever he could get it to himself. The seven-sided bay window lived up to its reputation. When the ISS was orbiting over Earth’s dayside, you got spectacular views of home. When night hid Earth, the stars blazed out, undimmed by light pollution, and auroras danced over the poles.
Jack hadn’t seen such amazing skies since he was a child in Warwickshire. Actually, ever. He took picture after picture.
Most amateur shutterbugs in space photographed Earth exclusively. Jack had been the same, until he heard those weird sounds on the Atlantis. He’d tried to bury the memory (Wheeeeoooooeee … EEEEE!) but it kept repeating on him, like a dodgy kebab. He’d considered telling Alexei about it, asking him if he’d ever heard anything like that out here, but he knew that would destroy his reputation with the whole cosmonaut corps. It wasn’t worth it.
Instead, reasoning that the best way to satisfy his curiosity was to give in to it, he spent time in the cupola gazing away from Earth, taking pictures of the fathomless darkness beyond humanity’s home planet.
The pictures were usually a waste of pixels. You couldn’t even see the outer planets in any detail, although the views out here were much better, naturally, than from Earth.
But shortly after he arrived on the ISS, he had a rare opportunity to photograph Jupiter in full color. He claimed his spot in the Cupola in plenty of time, feeling excited. Google told him Jupiter was 400 million miles and change beyond Earth. It would probably only be a few dozen pixels total, but that wasn’t the point. Jack cranked the external shields of the Cupola’s windows open, and drank in the black eternal night.
They’d had a treat for dinner: fresh apples, sent up on the Soyuz that had come to take Mission Commander Howard home. Howard’s custom Soyuz seat had been made and delivered, so he’d be heading home to face the Congressional music. The rumored investigation into the causes of the Atlantis disaster had materialized, and Jack was certain that Howard would milk the chance to air his firm belief—neither conclusively proved, nor disproved, by their impact analysis—that the accident should be laid at the feet of the Chinese. Jack was just glad he wouldn’t have to poke his own head above the parapet. Much better to be up here, far away from petty political games—even if politics did infect the atmosphere on ISS itself.
Never mind.
There’s Jupiter.
Oh, you beauty.
Click. Click.
He imagined he could even see Europa, Jupiter’s second moon, a pinprick on the bright blob of the gas giant.
Click click click.
All quiet on the ISS. Not a sound except for the constant, comforting white noise of the fans. No eerie pips from outer space. No ear-stabbing electronic shrieks. It was just Jack and the 2-inch screen of his Canon.
Click. Click. These pictures are going to be bloody fantastic. Who needs aliens?
“Oh my God!” Mission Specialist Moskowitz’s voice, high and raw. “Oh my God! I need help in here, get the first aid kit!”
Jack dropped his camera. It bobbled on his wristband as he flew towards Moskowitz’s scream.
“It’s Greg! He’s not moving—he’s not breathing!”
Download Freefall to keep reading now!
$3.99 on Amazon or FREE with Kindle Unlimited.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The Signal and the Boys incorporates ideas from AJM. Bill Patterson assisted on research. Any mistakes are strictly the fault of the author.
MORE FROM FELIX R. SAVAGE
Sign up for Felix R. Savage’s mailing list to learn about upcoming publications! You’ll also get access to free books, bargains, and other exclusive content.
http://felixrsavage.com/subscribe
The Signal And The Boys: A Prequel to the Earth's Last Gambit Series of First Contact Technothrillers Page 6
