The Seasoning

by Dennis Ingram

  David pursed his lips. “We don’t have time to worry about it – we’ll deal with her when we get back. Let’s get them suited up.”

  They started with Joyce, first stripping her down to her underwear. Trying to stuff someone into a pressure suit when they couldn’t help proved to be an exercise in frustration. Being in zero-g and hampered by their own pressure suits made it even harder. It took them almost ten minutes to suit Joyce up before they could move onto Natalia.

  David heard a groan, then a curse. “Pizda! I will kill her!”

  David’s head spun around. “Vasily!”

  “Da.” He held his head. “I feel like a thousand hangovers all at once.” His eyes narrowed. “David? David Miller?”

  “Yes, yes it’s me,” David said. He launched himself over to Vasily. “Are you OK?”

  “Da. Nyet. I don’t know,” he said. “My head, it feels like a truck hit me. Where is Joyce?”

  “Over here,” John called. “Don’t worry, she’s fine.”

  Vasily relaxed a little. “John?”

  John grinned. “Yeah, it’s me, mate. Long time no see.”

  “What is happening?”

  “We’re rescuing you,” David said. “Listen to me, Vasily. We have very little time.” He locked eyes with the big Russian, expression serious. “The ship will crash into the atmosphere within hours. We can’t stop it, we’re here to get you off. Do you understand?”

  Vasily’s eyes widened. “My god. We must boost the ship!”

  “We can’t. Carla told us that only Edward can unlock the controls.”

  Vasily blinked, trying to clear the cobwebs from his brain.

  “Da, this is true. He is not here?”

  David paused then told him the truth. “He’s dead, Vasily. Unless there’s another way, we cannot move the ship.”

  “Dead!” Vasily once again looked surprised. “And what of that bitch? Carla?”

  “She shot him.”

  “Bozhe moi!” Vasily shook his head, then groaned and held his head again. “And no one shot her? This is the biggest surprise of all!”

  John laughed. “It’s not over yet, mate. But we needed her so we could come get you.”

  “Da. I understand.”

  David reached out and grabbed one of the pressure suits.

  “Vasily, we have to move. Can you put this on?”

  Vasily took the suit. “Of course. See to Viktor, I can look after myself.”

  David’s expression was dubious – Vasily didn’t look as if he had recovered – but he turned to help with Viktor. He’d come back for Vasily later if he needed to.

  With three of them working together, they stuffed Viktor into his pressure suit in record time. David turned and saw with relief that Vasily had dressed as well, and was floating near his stasis chamber.

  “OK, let’s go,” he said, steering Viktor’s limp form toward the door. John grabbed Joyce and made to follow.

  “Wait!” Vasily said. “There’s something we must do first.”

  John bumped into the wall and used its friction grip to come to a halt. “What?” he asked. “We really need to go. This ship is going down, and soon!”

  “See that hatch?” Vasily said, pointing to the far end of the suite. “They didn’t allow us in there, ever. We need to find out what’s inside.”

  “John’s right. We don’t have time to explore, Vasily. If we don’t get off this ship soon, we never will.”

  “You don’t understand,” Vasily said. “I think … I think there are more people in there.”

  David stared at Vasily. “How can you be sure?”

  Vasily looked away. “I can’t. It’s just the way Carla behaved … and the door being in the stasis suite. This ship … it’s as big as the Hope but the engines are better, and the stasis chambers smaller, lighter. It could carry twelve people, maybe more.”

  John snorted, and Vasily looked at him in surprise.

  “Mate, do have any idea how many people the Inspiration brought?”

  “Nyet.”

  “A hundred. One hundred people.”

  Vasily’s mouth fell open. “A hundred? Nyet! That isn’t possible!”

  John nodded. “Five landers, each with twenty people. So counting you guys, this ship carried a hundred and four.”

  “Then we must open this door.” Vasily said, his voice sharp. “If they could bring so many, there could be more.”

  John looked at David, and they exchanged a silent understanding. They had no time left, but could they go, knowing they could be leaving others behind to die?

  David found the decision easy. “OK. But we have to make this quick. John?”

  Decision made, John dropped back to his engineer’s problem-solving mode. “I brought something that might help.”

  He pushed off back toward the mystery door. Anchoring himself he pulled a roll of what looked like thin tape from a pocket and stuck it to the door in an oval shape with quick movements. He attached a small silver object to the tape.

  “OK, everyone back.”

  John retreated, helping Elizabeth push Natalia out into the passageway. He then produced his phone and called up a control screen.

  “Fire in the hole!”

  A sound like fireworks hissing and spluttering filled the room for four or five seconds, together with a cloud of smoke. An alarm sounded and they heard a computer-generated warning.

  “Fire in the stasis suite! Fire in the stasis suite! Please clear the area, fire suppression protocols in ten seconds!”

  Vasily cursed and hurled a stream of Russian toward the ceiling. David understood “Vasily Abramovich” and little else, but surmised he had identified himself and issued an order. The smoke by now spilt into the passageway and, except for Vasily, they dropped their helmet visors to ward off the acrid smell.

  To their relief the alarm quieted, the sound replaced by a low hum. The smoke thinned, and they could see it being drawn toward the corners of the room by the extraction system.

  “Stupid machine thought we had a fire,” Vasily growled.

  “Well, to be fair –” John started, but then stopped when he saw Vasily’s expression. “Let’s get this door open,” he said instead.

  The door now sported a blackened, oval-shaped scar that perforated the plastic in places. John launched himself at it. There was a crack of splitting plastic, but the door didn’t break. John bounced off and scrabbled at the wall to right himself as he rebounded.

  “Not what I hoped for,” he said. The top of the door had sagged a few centimeters though, so he was able to grab the lip of the opening and pivot forward, kicking the door hard. It groaned and gave way with gunshots of snapping plastic, opening enough to get through. Wasting no time, John pulled himself into the room beyond.

  “My god!” he said.

  The room looked identical to the one they’d found the crew in. A row of six stasis chambers each held a single person, frozen in time. John counted four men and two women.

  “You were right, Vasily. There are more.”

  David followed, fending off shards of broken plastic. “Vasily, can we get some ventilation in here?” he asked, concerned they would breathe in floating debris with no gravity to send it to the floor.

  Vasily growled a few words of Russian and the extractors worked to clear the air.

  “Who are these people?” David asked.

  Vasily looked into each of the chambers in turn, their occupants impassive beneath the plastic covers.

  “I’ve never seen them before,” he said. “I don’t understand why they are here.”

  “This changes everything,” John said, his eyes meeting David’s.

  David hesitated. He had already worked out the consequences, and he didn’t like the answer. “We don’t have enough pressure suits.”

  John nodded. “I’d better get started,” he said and headed for the hatch.

  “What does he mean?” Vasily asked.

  David opened his mouth to reply,
but stopped as the air seemed to shimmer in front of his eyes. A deep thrumming sound they felt deep within their bones reverberated through the room. It lasted only long enough for them to look up, startled, before it faded away.

  Elizabeth spoke first. “It’s begun.”

  “I’ve gotta go,” John said, and continued his exit.

  “Is that …?” Vasily asked.

  David nodded. “The ship’s starting to enter the atmosphere.”

  “We have to get them out of here,” Vasily said, and turned to the stasis controls. “I’ll revive them so we can find out who they are.”

  “How long, Lizzie?” David asked.

  Elizabeth paused. “It’s hard to say. The interface to the atmosphere isn’t a hard line, it’s changing all the time as it heats and cools and turbulence lower down moves it around. We probably just went through a pocket. But it will have slowed us down. It won’t be long now.”

  She looked white. David didn’t blame her for being afraid. Right now, their chances of returning safely seemed slimmer than ever. They knew the ship would burn up in the atmosphere, but this experience brought it home, made it real.

  “They are drugged as well,” Vasily announced “But alive. We must move them.”

  Elizabeth looked at David, eyes wide.

  “Where did Dad go?” she asked, her voice uncertain.

  “He’s gone to remove the boosters,” David replied.

  “What? What are these boosters you speak of?” Vasily asked.

  “Let’s get these people moving to the airlock,” David replied. “I’ll explain on the way.”

  John cursed as he struggled with the mounting bolts on the port-side booster. Their plan had been to get everyone into the shuttle in their pressure suits and then he and David would work together to free the boosters. But the shuttle had no airlock, so that left no choice but to get the work done before pressurizing the shuttle and loading everyone in. That would cost them precious time.

  And of course the bloody bolts had frozen tighter than a hangman’s knot.

  He grunted as he braced himself and pulled again, almost losing his grip as the bolt came free. His rocket pack floated behind him; he’d found it almost impossible to bend and work on the bolts with it on. It might still be needed, though, so he’d tethered it to his belt with a length of rope and let it float.

  He grabbed for a handhold as he sensed a vibration running through the metal of the booster, and held on as if his life depended on it. John knew what caused it and felt a sinking sensation in his guts. He could see the faintest of glows around the edge of the immense fuel tank forward of the shuttle docking port.

  After a moment, the tremor passed and he redoubled his efforts.

  Inside the ship, David, Vasily, and Elizabeth were herding the nine limp bodies down the passageway toward the airlock when the tremor struck. This time it lasted longer. The ship groaned like a vast, wounded leviathan, as if sensing its impending doom.

  “John!” David said.

  “I’m on it,” John replied, his voice seeming to emanate from the walls. “Take that, you bastard!”

  “Dad?” Elizabeth asked. “What’s happening?”

  “Just got one of them off,” John replied with satisfaction. “See how many you can stuff in the airlock while I work on the other one.”

  John whistled to himself as he watched the port-side booster tumble away in slow motion. He’d got the last bolt undone at last, then he’d wedged himself between the booster and the shuttle and kicked it away.

  “Thanks for the ride up but I’m happy see you go,” he told the booster, as he turned his attention to the starboard side.

  Back inside the ship, they continued to push the unconscious crew members down the corridors toward the airlock. Urgency pushed them well past the stage where they worried about being gentle. Some of them would wake up with bruises, but better bruised than dead.

  It took them only a matter of minutes to fetch up outside the airlock, but they could go no further until John re-pressurized the shuttle.

  John made record time on the starboard side, which didn’t seem to suffer the same problems with frozen bolts, or at least not as bad. His confidence peaked as he removed the last bolt and allowed it to drift away.

  That’s when he discovered the booster wouldn’t come off.

  He pushed and strained, and wedged himself against the shuttle like last time, but it just wouldn’t budge.

  “Shit!” he cursed. “Fucking heat must have welded it on.”

  Another tremor struck, this one much worse than the others. Just as John thought their time had come and they would all go down in a fireball, it stopped.

  “Shit!” he cursed again, and knew what he must do.

  Inside the ship, David, Elizabeth, and Vasily couldn’t hear themselves speak as the great ship groaned and shook. The vibration went on and on, like a space-borne version of an earthquake, until once more it faded into silence.

  “Dad!” Elizabeth’s voice held an edge of panic.

  “I’m OK,” John said, his voice echoing from the walls. “Don’t worry sweetie, I’ve got it covered. David, you can bring them through, I’ve got the cabin pressurized.”

  “Understood, well done John,” David replied, relief in his voice.

  Vasily needed no encouragement to work the lock controls, and within seconds they had re-established the link to the shuttle.

  “Elizabeth, you first,” David said. “We’ll pass them through.”

  Elizabeth hesitated a second.

  “Go!” David said. She turned and wormed her way through the lock.

  Vasily sent Joyce through after Elizabeth, followed by Natalia.

  They had started maneuvering the unexpected extras through the hatch when an anguished cry echoed up from the open access tube.

  “Dad! David, he’s not here!”

  John’s frustration mounted. Nothing he did would persuade the reluctant booster to leave the embrace of the shuttle. He needed a lever and he had nothing large enough to do the job.

  Right on cue, as if to remind him, he felt a tug at his belt, and a light bulb went on in his head. Of course, the rocket pack! He knew he’d kept that damned clunky thing for a reason!

  He pulled on the rope hand over hand. Its low-powered thruster wouldn’t have enough push to help, but it had a frame built from strong aluminum alloy. He grabbed the pack, wedged it between the shuttle and booster, and pushed. A hint of movement rewarded his effort; he braced himself and put his back into it.

  David followed Vasily down into the chaos of the shuttle. Ten bodies were jammed into a space meant for four, leaving no room to move. Small droplets of moisture floated amid the confusion – Elizabeth’s tears.

  David turned to close the hatch, but Vasily grabbed him and pushed him into the cockpit.

  “Go! I will do it!”

  Seeing the sense of this, David went.

  “Elizabeth! I need you in here!”

  “And I need the space. Go!” Vasily said.

  Elizabeth buckled herself in, her reddened eyes contrasting with her pale face. David handed her a wad of tissues. “Can you navigate?” he asked. He didn’t bother asking if she felt OK. There was no time to comfort.

  “Yes,” she replied, her voice a whisper.

  They heard a clunk from behind them. “The hatch is closed,” Vasily said. “Get us clear while I stack the people!”

  Any other time that might have been funny.

  But not now.

  David completed a shortened departure checklist.

  “John?” he said.

  In response they heard a scraping sound that reverberated through the hull. “Ha! Got you!” John said, his voice echoing over the radio.

  Through the cockpit window they saw the starboard booster pinwheel away.

  “Dad!” Elizabeth’s cry tore at David’s heart.

  John’s helmeted face appeared in the cockpit window, upside down.

  “I love you,
Lizzie. Tell your Mum, and everyone.”

  “Dad, please!”

  John directed his final words to David. “Look after them for me, mate.”

  “My life is theirs,” he said.

  John raised a hand in salute, and then he was gone.

  They departed just in time. As David boosted the shuttle away from the Inspiration they could see a thin plasma trail forming around the lead fuel tank, and the vast ship dropped away behind.

  “It won’t be long now,” David said. He looked over at Elizabeth. “We don’t have much fuel left, Lizzie. Maybe one short burn and then that’s it. I need a de-orbit plan.”

  Elizabeth was no longer crying. She looked up at David, and what he saw there had chills running down his spine – it seemed like Elizabeth had gone, leaving behind an emotionless husk.

  “Calculating,” she said, and turned to her task.

  Below them, the most expensive spaceship in the history of mankind drew a fiery streak across the sky of Serendipity as it fell to its untimely end. The streak ended as the ship’s reactor cores breached. In that moment, the Inspiration’s life ended in a bright flare that for a few seconds shone brighter than the light of the Tau Ceti sun.

  The Inspiration was no more.

  John turned in the void as he drifted away, he and his booster pack orbiting each other in a lazy circle. He saw the shuttle separate and thrust away, disappearing above and behind him, and felt a burst of relief that his sacrifice hadn’t been in vain. He watched the last moments of the Inspiration and felt sadness when he saw it disappear in a flash of light.

  What a waste of a good ship.

  And then silence, except for the rasping of his breath in the enclosed space of his helmet.

  How would it end for him, he wondered? Would he burn up in a fiery re-entry, or would he freeze to death, or perhaps suffocate first?

  I choose option (d), none of the above, he thought. But he knew that wasn’t an option. If he wasn’t dragged into the atmosphere, sooner or later his power would run out. Then the suit’s computer would cut the heat, and then the time would come when it would have insufficient power to scrub carbon dioxide from his air.