Cormac shrugged before unclasping the seal and pulling off the cumbersome apparatus.
Driscoll spun the handle opening the airlock to the inside of the station.
On the other side, a pale surprised face greeted them. It was the woman they had seen earlier. It took her a splintered moment to realize her comrade was not alone.
“Sergei! What have you done to him?” she asked, brushing a lock of red hair out of her face.
“Back off, sister,” said Cormac, with a hand upraised. “Against the wall.”
She looked about to flee but knew as well as they did that it would be futile in the tight quarters of the station.
“Is anyone else aboard the station?”
“Nyet.”
Her green eyes contained an angry defiant fire. Even with the space suit on, anyone would have known from the curves that it was a woman inside.
Cormac paused a bit long before answering, “There better not be. Check it out, Driscoll, real careful-like. Make your way down and secure and lock that lower hatch. No surprises before his satanic majesty comes aboard.”
“I heard that,” crackled Ryman.
Driscoll gave a salute and went to an adjoining passage that would take him down into the rest of the station.
The shivering cosmonaut Sergei mumbled, “Skazheete pozhluista...?”
Cormac looked to the woman, saying, “Tell him to shut up. And for the sake of my companions, only speak English from now on. Understand?”
She nodded and whispered a hush to Sergei who seemed content to hang his head in shame and say nothing more. “He fears they will send him to the gulag for this failure.”
“That’s tomorrow’s worry.”
“Da.”
“We have your station. I took care of your other men outside so there is nothing left for you to do except cooperate. Got that?” He made sure she could see the bowie knife. On Earth, blood would still have been dripping off the blade, but here it had all boiled off. “I’m Captain Cormac Ross. What’s your name?”
“You are only a Captain? I am Major Ludmilla Serakovna.”
“Don’t get any ideas, sister, I’m already taking orders from a civilian.”
“Captain Cormac Ross? You are the ‘Rezuhin,’ yes?”
“You got it.”
“You have killed many of my comrades, my friends.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Now you are here to take our station, to take our lives?”
“If I was going to do that I wouldn’t still be talking to you.”
“Did you say that to the men outside? The ones you cut loose to die?”
“Orders. A fight is a fight. Can’t do any less.”
“Any less? What you did is the worst fate possible.”
“Not hardly.”
“Your American pride makes you a cruel and unkind people.”
Cormac stifled a laugh. “Nails aren’t made from good iron, nor are soldiers made from kind men. You’re a major, you should known that.”
Driscoll’s voice crackled, “Station—station is all clear. Ryman can come aboard.”
Cormac looked Ludmilla and Sergei over before responding. “You got that, Ryman? You should be able to follow our tethers right to the airlock, decompress and come in.”
“Roger that, Captain Ross. I am coming over to the station.”
Driscoll came floating up from a passage leading to the Soyuz, pulling himself along. His face was flushed and pale, sweat beaded across his forehead despite the overall cool interior temperature. “I looked out the window, thought at first I was seeing things. But I am sure—I saw it.”
“What?”
Driscoll rubbed his eyes. “I know we are moving at seventeen thousand miles an hour and the horizontal outlook is constantly changing but—”
“But what?”
“I thought I saw the stars blot out and then this... ‘Leviathan’ moved toward us.”
“Did you get hit in the head by those Reds? Any broken bones?”
“No, just bruises. I’m serious, I saw something. Something huge, yet almost intangible.”
“Dementia?”
“Knock it off. I know what I saw.”
“Do you?”
“No.” Driscoll looked out the portal, scanning for anything beyond the stars. “It’s gone now. But it was something real.”
Cormac rolled his eyes and made a face. “Probably just one of the Ivans doing the backstroke through the Detritosphere.” He then rummaged through the cosmonauts’ supply cabinet, tossing things he was not interested in into the air where they floated haphazardly.
Ludmilla, listening intently to Driscoll, asked, “Was it toward the Gagarin quadrant?”
Driscoll shook his head. “I don’t know where that is, but it was that way.” He pointed up above the Earth and toward the left of the station.
She nodded. “We have been taking readings on strange energy above the poles. I have wondered wht could be causing the radical fluctuations.”
Cormac laughed. “They brought a bottle of vodka and some Cubans. I’m keeping ’em.”
“It was big, black as tar. I didn’t like how I felt seeing it,” said Driscoll, before turning to watch the deep gloom. “It was soul-crushing. Made me question...”
“My father spoke of elder things when I was a girl. Malevolent beings that watch our world. They hunger and look with disdain upon mere mortals who dwell in the light.”
“Why would God allow such a thing?”
Ludmilla looked as if she wanted to respond, but couldn’t.
“You sap.”
Cormac lit one of the Cubans. The zero-G flame hung low and close on the match head like a blue swimmer’s cap instead of flaring orange as it would have on Earth. “You are playing right into her Commie hands. Of course Moscow Milla is gonna tell you there is a bogeyman out there. Act like the operator you are and don’t fall for her tricks.”
“Why are you smoking?”
“For science? Why else do you think they brought them up here?”
“Ryman hasn’t given us the go-ahead to do whatever we want. There could be sensitive equipment, and what about our air supply?”
“Not my air. Besides, the Reds brought it. It shouldn’t be wasted,” he said, opening the vodka.
“Keep your wits about you. I am sure I saw something out there.”
“Muh-huh,” gurgled Cormac, as he guzzled a large burning mouthful.
Ludmilla gave a audible sigh. “That was for celebration of successful station completion.”
“Then why isn’t it gone?”
“We were not yet complete.”
“And the Cubans?”
“Commander Arkady had them. I do not think he intended to use them. I think he was to give them as gifts that have been to space.”
“Yeah, that’s rich,” said Cormac, blowing plumes throughout the cabin.
Driscoll intervened, “We still have a mission to do. I’d rather not have to put my helmet and air back on. Not to mention whatever is out there.”
“Drop it, will ya?” Cormac took another pull on the Kalishnakov vodka before putting the cap back on. “We all see weird things out there. Ice, rocks, capsule fragments. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Ludmilla took the vodka from a surprised Cormac, saying, “It is true. Something is out there. You may check the data yourselves. I did not know you would be boarding us.” She then took a swift swallow herself.
“I may?” Though Cormac could speak and read Russian, he could not fathom the Soviet scientific equipment Ludmilla directed him toward. “No thanks, I didn’t bring my decoder ring.”
“You are a very bitter man. Who did this to you? A woman, yes?” she said taking a second pull.
Cormac ignored her and clicked his radio. “Ryman, you in the airlock yet?”
A long static crackle resolved into Ryman’s voice. “I am just taking in the majesty of night. This is as close as I have ever been to the True Greater Dark. I ca
n almost touch the void.”
“Yeah. You’d better get in here, Driscoll is having as many flights of fancy as you are.”
“You have no conception of the very gravity of the situation, Captain Ross.”
“Gravity? It’s zero-G, Ryman. Get in here and maybe we can sort things out and get going on the mission.”
“Patient as ever, Captain Ross, always the dutiful soldier. I am reaching the airlock now.”
“Good. Make sure you have that outer hatch fully locked. Then press the button with the Cyrillic flat-topped A.”
“Yes, I am about to climb in. It is more difficult than I would have thought. My hands are sore—I—Damn you! No!”
“What is it? Ryman?”
Unintelligible groaning echoed over the intercom.
“What do we do?” asked Driscoll.
“Is he inside the airlock?” Cormac directed the question at Ludmilla.
She shook her head. “He has not opened the hatch. It is safe. When you open one side, the other cannot be opened.”
To Driscoll, Cormac ordered, “You stay here, I’ll go get him.”
“What if—what I saw grabbed him?”
“You didn’t see anything.” Cormac said. “Get a hold of yourself. You have space dementia. There isn’t anything out there. He probably dropped his book.” Cormac looked at Ludmilla as he spoke. She had a coy expression on her face. Oh, she is good, he thought, playing up any slight advantage to benefit her fight against us.
“Don’t lose this,” Cormac ordered as he extinguished his cigar.
Driscoll rubbed his eyes then looked out the portal window. “I know I saw something. I have a bad feeling about this.”
Cormac strapped his helmet on and adjusted the sealant. “Keep your head on.” He then climbed into the airlock. “Ryman, hold tight. I’m coming to get you.”
A panic-ridden cry came from Ryman’s radio, but there were no words.
Mere minutes in the chamber stretched into an eternity for Cormac. Speed was half the reason he became a pilot; waiting only made him angry.
The light flashed and Cormac reached for the handle to open the hatch. He did so carefully and deliberately, prepared for the worst.
He saw nothing behind the door.
Inching out of the capsule, he looked for any sign of Ryman or whatever had made him cry out.
Nothing.
Naught but pin-pricked blackness stretching infinitely beyond.
Cormac pulled himself halfway out of the airlock before a force bludgeoned him. It glanced across his helmet but the brunt went to his right shoulder, knocking him almost all the way back inside.
An orange-suited cosmonaut with a Baikonur wrench stood there.
Cormac caught himself and struck back with a left hook, hitting the cosmonaut squarely in the knee. An unsatisfactory and equally useless assault.
Unfazed, the cosmonaut hit Cormac on the helmet with the wrench.
A strangely earthen clang echoed in Cormac’s head before being joined by another strike.
Reaching higher, Cormac punched at the unprotected groin with a sterilizing intensity.
This halted the cosmonaut’s attack.
Exiting the airlock, Cormac quickly attached himself to a tether, then drew his knife and faced the cosmonaut who had recovered somewhat on an even keel. He could not see Ryman anywhere, but his focus remained on his opponent.
The Russian had tied one of the much shorter cut tethers to his own waist harness. That he had survived floating freely in space was in itself a dark miracle.
“How’d you get here? If I wasn’t gonna kill you, I’d take you to Vegas.”
The cosmonaut gestured as if he still had the gun and held up four fingers.
“You shot yourself back? Lucky bastard. Let’s dance.”
“Poyekhali,” said the cosmonaut, hefting his wrench.
The two men bounded together, crashing blows in a slow dance of brutal menace.
The Russian had to respect Cormac’s blade and Cormac in turn had to avoid the skull-crushing blows of the Baikonur wrench.
Back and forth they struggled atop the world, champions of east and west, paragons of their lands and very ideals. Seemingly equals in strength and resourcefulness.
Faking a hay-maker with his wrench, the Russian lured Cormac in for a strike with his knife. Like a Venus flytrap, he caught Cormac and immobilized the knife in an arm-bar. Pressing ever harder, he was almost ready to break an arm.
But as he raised the wrench, Cormac ripped away from the Russian’s death-grip and tumbled backward.
The knife fell away, lost in the gloom.
Charging with wrench upraised, the Russian was halted by his own shortened tether. It yanked him backward just before he might have delivered a faceplate-smashing blow.
Regaining his footing, Cormac waited just out of reach of the Russian’s strike.
Stalking like a caged animal, the Russian beckoned for Cormac to attack, to let loose the beast and join him in death.
With no other weapon but his longer tether, Cormac went wide around the Russian, who initially believed the American was fleeing from him.
But hooking back hard and fast by bouncing and pushing off the Salyut hull like a swimmer kicking off a pools walls, Cormac wrapped the tether about the Russian.
Undaunted, the Russian pulled Cormac in and readied to brain him with the wrench. Cormac yanked back to avoid the hit. Neither could gain traction over the other, too close in strength and skill, too close in raw brutality and savage cunning.
But there is no cosmic balance, no level to which all can hope to attain in equal measure. No matter what anyone says, no matter how small the difference, someone comes out a little farther ahead in every competition.
There is no such word as “fair” in the universe.
Cormac raised his feet from the tension he had upon the hull and let the Russian pull him in again.
Cormac swiftly kicked the wrench away.
Having lost the wrench, the Russian decided to use his own skills to wrestle the American into death. The cosmonaut caught Cormac in a bear hug with each facing each other. He squeezed, hoping to pop something. He would assuredly win in a wrestling match, of that Cormac had no doubt.
But there is no fair in the universe.
Beyond indomitable, Cormac beat his own faceplate repeatedly into the cosmonaut’s.
Each cracked.
The Russian let go and tried to extricate himself from the insane American.
Cormac charged in again, slamming his own cracked faceplate into the panicked Russians.
“Nyet! Nyet! Nyet!”
“Das-Vee-Dan-Ya!” Cormac caught the Russian by the shoulders and brought the face plates together in one last shattering embrace.
Each spider-webbed crack grew, then popped, and the air was gone. The broken helmets were instantly jagged glass caskets.
The Russian splayed out in a reverse fetal position, clutching vainly at his throat as the vacuum took his life.
Cormac exhaled everything from his lungs and pushed himself to reach the airlock.
It wouldn’t open.
Knowing that it could only be locked because one side of the airlock was open from the other side, Cormac gripped the hull, and crab walked himself to the Soyuz capsule airlock, fighting to remain conscious the entire way.
He was blacking out.
Puffy eyes struggled to remain focused on the next handhold.
Twice he missed, as his fingers felt like hams and he nearly drifted away into deep space.
At the Soyuz hatch, he struggled to just hang on, let alone open it.
It would not budge. Locked by an open hatch on the other side, no doubt. He dimly remembered having Driscoll secure it so that it couldn’t be opened.
He had won but he had lost.
The universe is not fair.
He dazedly put an arm through the airlock entrance bar to hold his body to the station as consciousness slipped away.
<
br /> Darkness returned as light was banished from the universe and all were one within the void once again. And with the departure of life, so too did death abandon the horror of existence. A symmetry of bare equal nullity reigned and the darkness was pleased.
Then came the light.
A hand reached forth, scorching its way into the gloom, and broke the emptiness of the void.
Driscoll grabbed Cormac’s body and brought him to the airlock. He stomped the big Cyrillic flat-topped A.
“Don’t you die on me! Live, Jack-Hammer!” shouted Driscoll, beating upon Cormac’s chest. “Lord, help this wicked man!”
Fresh oxygen pumped into the chamber and Cormac’s lungs refilled. He coughed and his swollen, bloodshot eyes blinked as he heard Driscoll’s prayer of thanks.
“What happened?”
“I came out to help and saw you crawling to the other hatch. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
“Didn’t,” cough, “know you cared that much.”
“No, that thing is out there. It was hovering over us the entire time I pulled you inside. I was afraid it was going to grab us and eat us. It was watching like, like a lazy shark.”
“Now who is delusional? Let me up.”
Cormac attempted to get what seemed like upright, but he only twisted in the chamber like a writhing eel.
“You should be dead. Take it easy.”
“Where is Ryman?”
“Don’t know. You never saw him?”
“No. Maybe the Russian killed him.”
“Which Russian?”
“The lucky bastard with the gun.”
“I thought he shot himself into deep space.”
“He did,” coughed Cormac. “But then he shot his way back. We’re lucky he was out of ammo by then. Killer wrestler, too. I had to do this to beat him.” He waved his hand about his shattered helmet, which he then removed.
“That was risky.”
“You think?”
The light blinked complete and the hatch opened.
“Did he see it?” asked Ludmilla.
“No, he didn’t.”
“I saw it from the viewing portal,” said Ludmilla. “Where is your comrade? Did it get him?”
“Knock it off, it didn’t get him and you didn’t see anything,” growled Cormac. “There is no monster. There is no big black space monster.”
Space Eldritch Page 18
