Days Until Home

by Mark Gardner

  The blast of static that sounded out from Jeremy’s helmet sounded dreadfully final.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Days Until Home: 84

  Viktor moved down the hallway toward Siebert’s transponder signal, cringing with every magnetically-enhanced boot step that sent jolts of pain through the bundle of fabric and flesh fused together at his belly, when laughter drifted through his helmet.

  Jimmy paused and turned around, giving Viktor a confused look. He heard the laughter too. “What the…?”

  “Attention all Kerwood crew,” came Captain Hayes’ voice, clearer but still twinged with levity. “I have an important announcement to make.”

  “Then make it already,” Jimmy said on the private channel only Viktor could hear.

  “We’ve established communication with the commercial mining vessel Matsue. They are plotting an intercept course to provide assistance. Folks, we’re being rescued.”

  Hayes must have opened up the channel to everyone, because a scattering of cheers filled Viktor’s helmet, some weary, others halfhearted, all of them hopeful. Jimmy grinned like an idiot and pumped his fist in the vacuum.

  “The Matsue,” Viktor breathed, staring off at a point past Jimmy’s shoulder. “That’s my old ship.”

  “Who slagging cares what ship it is,” Jimmy said. “It’s a ship, and it’s rescue, and it’s safety. I thought I was gonna die out here, and no offense, Vicky, but I was terrified your ugly face would be the last thing I saw.”

  His laughter took the sting out of the words, and Viktor surprised himself by joining. For a long while they stood there and laughed along with the remnants of the crew throughout the crippled Kerwood.

  It took eight hours for the Matsue to reach them, hard-burning all the way on chemical rockets. Viktor imagined the chest-crushing g-forces the crew suffered just to reach them as quickly as possible. Viktor and Jimmy were able to cut open the mangled door and retrieve Siebert. The big miner appeared unconscious at first, but came to once they patched into his suit comms. He seemed to hear everything they said, and he nodded or shook his head to answer their questions, but he had a thousand-meter stare in his eye that Viktor recognized as shock. There was no sign of Adelaide, so they escorted Siebert back to relative safety before his brain could process everything that had happened.

  They huddled in the med bay while waiting for the Matsue. The video screens that would normally show the view outside the ship were down, so they had to use their imagination with occasional updates over the radio. The Matsue matched their relative velocity, then closed the distance until they were only a few meters apart. Though the engineers had done a pretty good job at negating the Kerwood’s spin by opening and closing airlocks, the ship still was unstable on one axis, so the Matsue used engineering arms to clamp onto the crippled vessel and then negate the spin with its own maneuverability jets.

  An emergency airlock attached to the trunk entrance. It sounded like a dozen woodpeckers hammering the outside of the hull, creating the temporary seal. Viktor had the absurd image of old earth pirates on the open seas, throwing hooks onto a vessel before they boarded. He laughed, and when Jimmy asked what was so funny, he only shook his head. Part of him knew he was so far beyond exhaustion that his brain was barely functioning. The larger part didn’t care.

  Men and women in clean white spacesuits boarded the Kerwood like angels escorting children to Heaven. One woman, in the largest spacesuit Viktor had ever seen, slipped an arm around him, patching into his suit and speaking in a calm but firm tone. Viktor tried to study her face, but his vision was blurred by tears of joy. He imagined she looked like Helena.

  The Matsue boasted a full med bay with eight beds and enough technology to perform a robotic heart transplant. Viktor didn’t remember being laid in the bed, but he was horizontal, staring up at one of the harsh lights. The walls were made of a plastic enamel that shined almost like metal, and the instruments hanging out of the ceiling, which were metal, were brushed so clean they looked like mirrors. Everything seemed too nice to be real.

  Men cut away Viktor’s exterior suit with heavy scissors, then the insulation layer underneath. Something stank awful, which surprised Viktor in such a clean place. Soon he was nude, except for a square patch of suit fabric around his belly.

  “Jesus,” said one of the medical officers. “You ever see something like this?”

  “Like a birth defect,” said another. “Or the twisted fetuses on Ganymede.”

  “Yeah. This will be rough.” His tone changed. “Hello, Mr. Sharapov? Can you hear me?”

  Viktor made a noise.

  “Okay. That’s fine, just relax, okay? We’re going to work on your abdomen. You just sit tight and relax.” His voice changed to that of someone in charge. “We’re going to need to cut this apart, but I’m worried about bleeding.”

  The other man said, “Vitals aren’t great.”

  “Yeah. Blood pressure’s too low for analgesics.”

  “What about a local spray?”

  “It’ll burn off with the laser, get in the air. You don’t want to be breathing that stuff. We’re going to need the straps to hold him down.”

  The man took Viktor’s good arm and pulled it perpendicular to his body. He heard velcro, and felt something pull tight against his wrist and ankles. Viktor let them maneuver his body without resisting. He didn’t ask any questions, though he felt vulnerable on the cold table.

  The med officers talked over him, sometimes asking him questions. He nodded along, whether they were talking to him or not.

  He heard the laser before he felt it, hissing and pulsing with energy, red glow fighting against the bright white light in the ceiling. Then came the smell, foul and appetizing all at once.

  Pain, charging through the door of his mind like a bull, tore his nerves apart. He screamed, and thrashed, and fought against the straps, and eventually the room and his senses went black.

  Days Until Home: 84

  Viktor woke to an Earth sunrise, the ball of orange climbing above an ocean horizon and sending lances of light away in all directions. For a few blissful moments, he forgot. For a few moments, he was home.

  He looked around to find Helena, but that shattered the illusion. He was in the med bay of the Matsue. He’d been sleeping on his side staring out the window. Except it wasn’t a window. It was a computer screen, playing a recording. The warm ocean sunrise faded away and was replaced by the vibrant greens and browns of a redwood forest. Ambient noise drifted from the ceiling. Birds chirped, and an unfamiliar animal made a cooing noise in the distance. Viktor wondered where the scene had been filmed. Or if it was a computer rendering.

  He tried to sit up, failed, and then used his right arm to push himself up. The bandages and tape at his belly crinkled at the movement. Which is also when he became aware that his left arm was now free, although the hand was wrapped in so much gauze it looked like a white club. He tried to wiggle his fingers. The pain was so great that for a moment he saw stars across his vision. He didn’t try it again.

  Four other beds were occupied in the med bay. One of the engineering women lay motionless in the bed closest to his. Jessica was in the one beyond that, the fresh cloth wrapped around her head a giveaway. Her eyes were closed. She looked peaceful.

  We did that, Viktor thought. We kept her alive. A warmth grew in his belly, a satisfaction more complete than any mining job.

  “Quit smirking,” Jimmy said. He sat in a chair next to Viktor’s bed, legs extended out in front of him. “I know what you’re thinking, and yes, she’s clothed under that blanket. Just cause she’s unconscious don’t mean you can ogle her up and down with a goofy grin on your face.”

  Viktor’s jaw hung slack. “I wasn’t…”

  Jimmy laughed. “You’re too easy, Vicky. You know that? Just yankin’ your beets.” He pointed. “Which you can yank yourself, now that you’re not some cronenberg freak show anymore.”

  Viktor must have had a confused look on his
face, because Jimmy threw his hands up.

  “Your arm. You’re normal again.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  “Great digs here,” Jimmy said, looking around. “Never seen anything this fancy on a mining ship.”

  Viktor was just as surprised. He’d spent twelve years under contract with the Matsue, and the med bay never looked like this. Everything seemed new because it was new, upgrades outfitted after Viktor had signed on with the Kerwood.

  “She’s not just a mining ship,” Viktor said. “She has a cargo hold three times the size of a standard driller so she can double as a freighter and run supplies at the same time. One route, two sources of income.”

  “Three sources of income, now.”

  The voice came from a burly looking man in the med bay doorway. His uniform hung on him like a banner of war, and he stood with his hands on his hips. The smile on his face didn’t match the intensity in his eyes.

  Viktor grinned in spite of himself. “Richard.”

  The man strode into the room until he stood a meter from Viktor’s bed. “That’s Captain slagging Sayid to you, drill-monkey.”

  He stared at Viktor a moment longer before his faux-anger melted away. With a laugh he wrapped Viktor in a hug, strong but careful enough to avoid the wound in his belly.

  “They promoted you?” Viktor said when he finally let go.

  “Don’t sound so surprised. If the corporation was smart enough, they’d have given me my own ship ages ago.”

  “Captain Arbolest finally retired, then?”

  Sayid’s face softened. “No. Lost her in an EVA three years back.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Remember the station fire on Mimas? The Matsue was sent to clean up some of the damage, salvage what we could, pick through the ash. We were there ten days, and on the tenth, a secondary explosion occurred in one of the station’s air tanks. Nothing big, just enough to send some debris at us. Wouldn’t have been any worse than hail on a truck, but to someone on the outside in a suit…”

  Viktor nodded solemnly. “She always liked to walk the hull, check for damage herself. Said it cleared her head.”

  “Yeah. Well.”

  Jimmy cleared his throat with three long coughs. He looked at Viktor expectantly.

  Viktor extended his club-hand at the kid. “Captain Sayid, this is Jimmy Andrews. Fellow miner.”

  “Nice to meetchya,” Jimmy said, shaking his hand. “So, three sources of income, huh? You gonna send Vicky a bill for his stay, or somethin’?”

  Sayid’s tight smile returned. “Not quite.”

  The captain of the Matsue dove into what sounded like a well-rehearsed pitch. It had been fifty years since Earth’s space elevator was completed, a gateway out of its gravity well that suddenly made space travel cost-effective for more than just exploration. The New Goldrush followed, with orbital shipyards selling affordable crafts that could make the transfer to Mars or the asteroid belt without a problem. They cranked them out by the hundreds.

  But the ships had long since passed their operational life expectancy, and even well-maintained ones were breaking down. Running in a vacuum might cause less wear-and-tear than a car on asphalt, but machinery was machinery. Engines broke down. Pipe gaskets wore thin, seals broke. Ships became stranded, crew members drifting through the black, pockets of dense atoms in an otherwise endless expanse of nothing.

  It was an inevitability, just as the need for roadside service was an inevitability after Ford gave cars to the world. And it was a business opportunity.

  The corporation, Sayid explained, refitted the Matsue with that goal in mind. Extra crew quarters were carved out of the cargo bay, and the med bay was upgraded with state-of-the-art equipment. The ship would still perform its normal routes, hauling goods or taking mining contracts, but if the opportunity for rescue came along, they could reroute and assist as needed.

  “Slag,” Jimmy said, drawing out the word so that it was four syllables. “I was just kidding about you sendin’ us a bill. I, uhh, seem to have left my wallet in my other spacesuit,” He patted his pockets for effect.

  Sayid smiled. “Not quite what we had in mind. The Kerwood Corporation will be billed for services rendered. Their insurance policy covers events such as this one.”

  “We appreciate your benevolence,” Viktor said.

  “Nothing wrong with helping people, and nothing wrong with making money. Always nice when you can do both.” His face grew serious. “Listen, now that everyone’s safely aboard the Matsue, I’m going to meet with Captain Hayes and a few of the other senior officers. Go over the plan, what happens next, all of that. It’d be nice to have you there, too.”

  “I don’t see how I could be of any help,” Viktor said. “I’m just a miner. I don’t make decisions.”

  “Well, it would comfort me to have a familiar face in the room. You won’t have to say anything. Call it a personal favor to an old friend. Alright? Go get a hot meal in the galley, then make your way to the bridge.” He slapped Viktor’s good arm. “It’s great to see you again. I’m glad you’re okay.”

  Jimmy watched Sayid leave the room.

  “Nice guy,” he said.

  “One of the good ones,” Viktor said after a moment. “More reasonable than most, and always fair. He will make a fine captain.”

  “So why’d you leave?”

  Viktor shrugged. “Money.” That was only one of the reasons, but it was the obvious one.

  “The Kerwood paid you more?” Jimmy snorted. “So that’s why I make so little.”

  Viktor swung his legs over the edge and slid off the bed until his toes touched the floor. Just the simple act of holding his own torso upright sent fire across his belly. Nobody realized how important the core muscles were until they were compromised.

  Jimmy helped him put on a plain grey jumpsuit, stepping into each leg, and then zipping it up from groin to neck. The cloth had no tears or faded spots on it and even smelled new. That alone made Viktor feel like a refreshed and refurbished man.

  The crew member on cook duty handed out bowls and spoons as they entered the galley. The line led to a container that looked like a water cooler, cylindrical and with a spout on the bottom. Something brown and suspect oozed into Viktor’s bowl. He and Jimmy took seats at a table—there were three tables altogether, with six chairs each—and tried a tentative spoonful. The stew tasted better than anything he’d ever had in his life, thick and savory with what even looked like real bits of beef. Before he knew it, the bowl was empty except for the bits sticking to the edge. Viktor wiped them off and licked them off his fingers.

  Jimmy sat back down and grinned. “Dude. There’s no calorie restrictions. They let me get seconds.” He took a quick spoonful while looking over his shoulder as if they might suddenly change their mind and take it back.

  Viktor’s stomach rumbled, but he thought about what Sayid had said. “I’ll get more later.”

  Jimmy shrugged and shoveled stew into his mouth.

  Despite being refitted, the layout of the Matsue remained the same as before, and Viktor’s feet knew the way. Out the galley to the right, down the spine of the ship toward the bow. The bridge doors were open, a strangely welcoming sight.

  The entire far wall was a single curving window, with the cockpit chair positioned to give the pilot a 270 degree view. The stars seemed especially vibrant, maybe because they were the only thing visible. In the space between were half a dozen computer stations with various crew staring at screens of data and punching at keyboards. Hard at work analyzing the damage to the Kerwood, no doubt.

  Captain Sayid sat in a chair to Viktor’s right, in an alcove with seats arranged in a semicircle. Sayid had one leg crossed over the other, with his hands in his lap. He looked like a psychiatrist. Another Matsue officer, a strong-looking woman with her hair in a tight bun, sat next to him. She appeared more tense. Viktor recognized her as the woman who had been the one to escort him onto the Matsue.

  The Kerwood cr
ew didn’t sit. The captain and the chief engineer stood, arms crossed and legs spread apart, like animals ready to take flight. One of the other engineers—Adelaide—leaned against the wall, trying to appear relaxed but coming off more tense than any of them.

  They all looked up at his entrance. Viktor felt conspicuously unimportant by comparison. What was a miner doing at a meeting like this? Where were the others?

  “Alright, we’re all here,” Sayid said.

  That’s when Viktor realized: there are no others. Beyond the few in the room, all the officers were dead.

  “Firstly,” Sayid said, “let me officially welcome you aboard the Matsue. The circumstances aren’t the best, but I’m confident you’ll find us hospitable hosts.”

  “We’re delighted to be here,” Adelaide muttered.

  Sayid took her sarcasm at face value. “Now, some background on the circumstances that brought us here. Our manifest had us hauling soil bacteria to the Jovian moons for the outbound trip, and hauling water ice back to Luna on the return. However, the ice never made it on the first leg from Saturn so our return contract was canceled. We remained in berth on Callisto Station while the big wigs that make the decisions tried to find us a new one, but we were burning money just sitting in port, so after a week of twiddling our thumbs, they ordered us to return home. Which put us only a few million miles from you when we saw your beacon, still at the beginning of our twenty day acceleration. Lucky timing, and lucky to have an empty cargo hold when we did.”

  Hayes stared implacably. Adelaide rolled her eyes.

  “Why do you say that’s lucky?” Jeremy asked, confused. “Because an empty cargo hold means less mass to accelerate and decelerate in the intercept?”

  “Well, partly that. And partly because an empty cargo hold means we can do a complete job of rescuing you,” Sayid explained. “We’ve got accommodations for your crew and plenty of emergency reserves in stock to keep you all fed. And, last but not least, room in our cargo bay for your haul.”

  “Wait,” Adelaide said. “I don’t understand. What haul?”