by Gary Martin
“You’ll finally get to slit my throat,” I say.
“What are you talking about?”
“One by one you slit the throats of my crew in front of me but didn’t get past Robert. You finally get to kill me.”
“You won’t let go, will you? I deeply regret what I did. I wasn’t the same person. I was broken. But we don’t have time for this, the sun could go at any time. You have to get out there.”
All I want to do is punch him in the face. But he’s right. I don’t like it, and this is all his fault; but there’s no time, and he does have more to offer the future than I do.
I stand up and go into the back of the ship and pull a space suit out of the storage locker. I quickly strip down to my underpants, as the idea of wearing my vomit covered clothes under the suit isn’t very appealing. It’s a more advanced space suit than the ones on Sunspot Two and can easily be put on with just one person. But the constant veering of the ship to avoid flares makes it a bit tricky. I click the helmet in place and look at the radiation monitor on my left wrist. Green. That won’t last long once I’m outside. On my right wrist is a small toolkit with various multi-tools, a small crowbar and a jet-injector with a crossed-out radiation symbol on it.
“I’m ready. What do I need to do?” I ask through the suit’s intercom.
“The missile is attached by four clamps. All you have to do is prize them open, then let me know when it’s done. I’ll fire it. If you do it quickly enough, you may surv …” Rupert trails off and stares out of the forward view screen, mouth agape.
“… The solar flares have stopped. We’ve got no time left. You have to get this done, now.”
I awkwardly run to the airlock at the back of the ship and attempt turning the wheel to open it but it’s jammed. I haven’t got time for this. I need to think fast. The tool kit. I grab the small crow bar and push it through the spokes, using it as a lever. Thankfully, it gives and opens on the third try. Bending down, I squeeze into the tiny space and close the door behind me. I get claustrophobia in a space suit, so the airlock makes it feel doubly bad. My breathing gets heavier and ragged as the air hisses out around me. All I have now is fear. I don’t want to touch the outer hatch. If I do, I know it’s the beginning of the end for me. I also thought that in the pod on the way to the QE7, but to think it twice in one day doesn’t bode well. I don’t want to start the journey and I can’t bring myself to open it.
“John, I estimate the sun has around ten minutes left, you need to get a move on,” Rupert’s metallic voice in my helmet says, startling me enough to turn the wheel and push it open.
I move my right arm outside of the air lock, and pat around for something to hold on to. My fingers touch something that feels like a handle, so I grab hold of it tightly and swing myself out.
Pulling myself up to the top of the little ship, I see that there isn’t as much damage as I’d thought. The missile is a little singed, but that’s about it. A hand hold runs the length of the ship, which is conveniently just underneath the clamps. This should be easy. I realise that there may be a chance of survival after all, if I’m quick and don’t freak out.
I glance at the radiation monitor on my left wrist, and already it’s on yellow. I need to be very quick.
The clamps holding the missile to the ship look simple enough, I thought they’d be more advanced considering the ship. There’s a hole at the tip of each clamp, which I would assume is for putting some sort of pad lock through if you wanted to lock them off, but nothing’s in them today.
I pull out the crowbar and stick it through the gap between the clamp and missile, then pull it towards me. It opens with surprising ease, so I move toward the front of the ship and to the next one. Same again.
The hand rail stops just before the forward view screen, so in order to get to the starboard side of the ship without going back on myself, I’m going to have to let go and push myself across. It would be far safer to go back and follow the hand rail around the stern of the ship, but there’s no time. The needle is closing in on red.
The handrail on the starboard side of the ship is in sight, and only about two and a half metres away, so I push off without much thought for my safety. Briefly, I see Rupert through the glass of the cockpit, he smiles an odd smile and waves at me. For a second, I wonder what the smile means, but it’s a second I don’t have. I grab out at the starboard handrail, missing it with my left hand. Shit. I put my right arm out, and manage to grip the very end of it. Pulling myself in tightly to the ship, I let out a sigh of relief.
I’ve been concentrating so hard on the job at hand, that I’ve only been staring at the hull of the ship. At no point have I looked at the terrible majesty of our blue sun at the end of its life. I turn my head to the right and what a sight it is. Beautiful, powerful, and in its death throes; still deadly. Blue flames dapple the edges but, at the centre, a Jupiter sized whirlpool of fire is forming around what looks like a black hole. I can’t stop looking at it, something about it is drawing me in, hypnotising me. I want to let go and surrender myself to it.
The radiation monitor’s needle is now well in the red, and I understand that the levels in my suit are fogging up my brain. I flip open the tool box again, pull out the jet-injector and administer a dose into my left arm. As the needle moves back into the yellow, the fog clears a little bit. I clip the injector back in its housing and pull out the crow bar. Two clamps to go.
45
The clamps on the starboard side are more singed than the two on the port side but just as easy to prize open. As the final clamp is unclipped, I radio Rupert.
“All four clamps are done. Give me a minute to get inside and fire away,” I say.
“I’m sorry, John. I’m afraid there has been a change of plan. I’ve magnetised the airlock. I’m afraid you’re not coming back in,” Rupert says calmly.
“What? Why?” I shout.
“Simple. You don’t deserve to live. Ez would be better off if you were taken out of the picture. Happier in the long run, I should think, too.”
“I tried to save you. After everything you did. I still tried to save you from Skylark.”
“I get no pleasure in this. Actually, that’s not true. I do regret almost everything I did, but in the many conversations I had with Ez at work, your friends Jacob and Terrell were always the bane of her existence. She thought you loved them more than you loved her. You spent most of your free time with them. So, although I regret wiping out most of humanity, I don’t regret wiping out those two. In fact, I’m glad. And don’t think you can keep hold of the hand rail all the way back, light speed will liquidise you. Goodbye, John,” he says and, with a beep, communications with him are cut off.
Fury burns inside of me; I don’t think he could have said anything that would have hurt me more.
The missile’s tail starts to glow red and I know that this is really the end for me. I could hold on to the rail and hope he’s lying, but it seems doubtful. Which death would be better? Being liquidised sounds like I’d be in horrifying agony before I die, and I imagine I’d be unconscious by the time the solar radiation killed me, so I should just let go and let it happen.
Why am I accepting this? This man destroyed everything, he’s going to be a hero when he gets back, and his identity kept secret. He shouldn’t be allowed to live and play happy families with Ez, or with anyone. I couldn’t kill him before; I wasn’t a killer and I didn’t want to be. But whether I like it or not, I am now a murderer. I jam the crow bar in the hole at the top of the last clamp, locking it to the missile, then push away from the ship and watch as the missile fires up. It launches and, with it, the little ship is helplessly dragged towards the sun.
“John, what have you done?” Rupert shouts though the intercom. I don’t reply and watch as the ship gets further and further away, all the while he’s ranting and raving about how he’s going to get me and kill everyone I care about. There is a small flash that coincides with his shouting turning to static. From
the flashpoint, a red wave slowly envelops the surface of the sun. It turns from blue, to grey, and, finally, to black.
46
“Can anyone read me? This is John Farrow. Please respond if you hear this.” I have no idea if the space suit’s communications system was linked to the ship that I just destroyed or, if not, has enough range to reach anyone on the QE7 or the Utopia project. All I hear is static.
I’m floating alone in space, millions of kilometres away from anyone or anything that could possibly rescue me. The radiation metre is reading red again, so I pull out the jet injector and give myself another blast of it. The liquid in it has almost run out. I doubt I’ve got more than one hit left, which probably gives me about half an hour before I’m a dead man. Even though the sun has been killed off, it turns out the solar radiation is still trying to murder me. On the plus side, I’ve got enough oxygen to last a day.
“Hello, can anyone read me? This is John Farrow. The only surviving member of an expedition to stop the sun going supernova. I’m here, just floating in space, alone, quite near where the sun used to be. Please, if anyone could find it in themselves to rescue me, that would be pretty great. I know it’s unlikely that anyone can hear this and I’m talking to myself, but I don’t want to die out here. The radiation levels will probably kill me in half an hour, but if you know someone with a ship that has a light drive, you could get to me in ten. Just saying. I’m just going to keep talking because there’s nothing else I can do. I’m sure I’m close to the part where my whole life is supposed to flash before my eyes. It hasn’t yet. And I hope it doesn’t. I’ve already had enough of it forced back into my brain. There is some of it I’d like to relive but not that. I’d like to spend time with Jacob and Terrell. Horrible as it is to admit, as much as I love Ez, they are the only people in this new fucked world that would have made everything make sense. Imagine if they’d survived and we’d been able to get into scrapes together in order to survive. If I hadn’t run away in the first place at least we would have perished together. But now, I’m floating in space, alone, and know I’m going to die really soon.”
The static in my earpiece gets suddenly louder.
“Hello? Is someone there?”
I listen deeply into the static and am sure I can hear a voice. Just not what’s being said.
“I’m sorry, I can’t make out what you’re saying. Please boost your signal.”
The static lowers in volume, and then goes silent. I guess I was just getting my hopes up.
“This is the SS Leviathan, do you read us, John Farrow?” a loud female voice shouts in my helmet, startling me.
“I read you loud and clear. Can you be of any assistance?” I ask, getting my hopes up.
“It will take us more than a week to get to you, but we could bounce your signal to someone who might be able to,” the voice replies.
“That would be brilliant. Is there any way you could get in contact with the QE7?”
“That’s a Skylark ship. If we contact them, we’ll be detected. It’s too big a risk. I’m sorry.”
“Shit. How about the Utopia project?”
“We are in contact with the Utopians. But due to Skylark being actively between us and them, we haven’t been able to get there. I’ll see if I can put you through,”
I feel a sliver of hope. Hope is good, but hope has always had a way of screwing me over.
“I’ve got the Utopia project’s leader for you. He sounded genuinely surprised that you were still alive,” she says.
“I’m sure he is. Put him through, please.”
“Putting you through now.”
“John, I’m so glad you are still alive…”
“Fuck off, Jelvus, and put Flick on,” I say.
“I’ll get her,” he says and disappears. I can hear the sound of quiet chatter in the background, I’d imagine it’s the crew on the bridge of Sunspot One, wondering what’s going on.
“John, is that really you?” Flick asks.
“It is.”
“Matt said you’d sacrificed yourself for the good of the Utopia project. I didn’t really believe him. It seemed oddly out of character for you.”
“You were right not to. I went over to explain what had happened, but Matt set the auto-destruct on my pod. Luckily, it did no damage or you’d all be dead.”
“Why did you go without telling me?”
“There was no time, and I thought you would have wanted to go with me. I didn’t know if I’d be coming back.”
“Where are you now?” she asks.
“Floating next to the sun.”
“Is that some sort of euphemism?”
“Nope. I’ve got about thirty minutes before I die of radiation poisoning. I was hoping that one of the Utopia project’s ships might have a light drive.”
Flick asks Matt if they have one. I don’t hear the response.
“The fastest ship we have could get to you in three days. Assuming we could get it past the QE7 without being shot down.”
My heart sinks a little.
“That wouldn’t happen now. But I’ll be long dead by then,” I say.
“I can’t lose you again, John.”
I don’t have time to explain everything to her, but she deserves the truth.
“I love you, Flick, but Ez is on the QE7. She is now in command of Skylark. Nothing is going to happen to the Utopia project. It’s safe. You’re safe.”
“Ez, as in the girl you were looking for, the mother of Warren? But you said she was dead.”
“I was lied to.”
“So, you’re going back to her then?”
“Doubtful. Unless someone can rescue me in the next twenty minutes.”
“I’m sorry. I let my emotions get the better of me. I’ll contact her now and see if they have anything that can hit light speed.”
“They don’t. I used the only one they had to get here, then promptly destroyed it. On the plus side, I did stop a shock wave that would have wiped out the solar system and everyone in it.”
“So, what can I do?” Flick says, with desperation filling her voice.
“Nothing. Just talk to me. Maybe get Ez on the line. Let me spend my last few minutes with the people I love,” I say, feeling completely hopeless.
“I’ll do that now.”
In the silence, I can hear my heart beating loudly in my ears. I start to notice the sensation of pins and needles slowly enveloping my whole body, and my brain is beginning to fog up again. The radiation monitor is now well in the red, so I open up the tool kit and pull out the jet injector one last time. My hand eye coordination is off and it slips out of my fingers. I hopelessly watch as it floats away into space. I smile as it disappears from view.
“John? This is Ez. Are you alright?”
“I think so. Rupert tried to kill me, so I killed him back. Ez, meet Flick. Flick, meet Ez.” I say, but I struggle to get the words out.
“You sound drunk,” Ez says.
“The radiation must be affecting him,” Flick replies.
“I think the radiation is …” I can’t think how to end the sentence. The words won’t come to me.
“We can get someone to you in less than twelve hours. Is there any way you can hold on for that long?” Ez asks.
“I don’t think so. I can make for try, if you need to.”
I’m no longer sure what I’m saying. The stars ahead of me have disappeared, and in their place are giant blurry orbs. I can hear voices in the distance, are the orbs saying my name? I can’t focus enough to know for sure.
The sad voices are getting further away, but a slow rhythmic beeping takes their place. A dreamy chorus with all the reverb in the universe starts singing a beautiful repeating lullaby to me. I smile and try to make out the words. A lethal dose of something? The lyrics are quite dark for something so pretty. I don’t know, maybe I’m hearing them wrong. I think I need to close my eyes for a bit. Sleep always makes me feel better. I’m very tired, it’s been a busy day. T
ime for …
THE END
