The spacecraft had not fallen apart; James had not been thrown into space; the fear that had gripped him was slowly dissipating. Gradually he adapted to zero gravity. He grouped himself and moved a little away from the bunk bed row where he thought he was. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he could already make out the vague outline of the sleeping quarters. As it turned out, he was hovering between the bunk beds and the intercom monitor above the table. Dr Kirkpatrick was floating on the other side of the monitor. James could not see her, only something like a shadow obscuring the opposite bunks.

‘It seems I should get back to Sickbay,’ she said. ‘Surely someone will need my help soon.’

‘You think so,’ muttered James. ‘What could have happened?’

She responded with an indistinct sound and said after a short pause, ‘I’d like to know... Where’s the entrance hatch?’

‘I think it’s over there,’ said he, holding out his hand, only then realising that she could barely see where he was pointing. ‘The entrance hatch is to the left of my bunk,’ he corrected himself. ‘Find the edge of the table and move away from it towards –’

‘I found the edge of the table,’ she interrupted, ‘but… ah yes, I see…’

‘What are we going to do?’ he said, and heard her snort.

‘You stay here, and I’m going to try to get to my workplace. The emergency lights haven’t come on. So I guess we have an oh-so-serious problem…’ She emphasised the last words. ‘They must be looking for me already.’

A sudden flash of light blinded James. He did not immediately realise that the emergency lights had come on just as he hovered in front of one of the lamps. Seconds later, his eyes adjusted to the dim twilight enough to orient himself. He saw Dr Kirkpatrick near the entrance hatch, floating out of the sleeping quarters.

A few seconds later, her voice came to him from the corridor, ‘Shit! The airlock is closed…’ She paused. ‘…Of course, it closes automatically in case of depressurisation –’ She paused again and continued, reappearing in the entrance hatch, ‘Okay, if the emergency lights are working, let’s try the comms system.’

These last words were addressed directly to James. He understood instantly and tried to move to the intercom monitor. Not immediately, but he did, mentally remarking to himself that he had not lost his abilities for moving in weightlessness. The intercom touch-screen was dark and therefore useless. He turned back to her and shook his head negatively. She nodded as if guessing.

‘I see.’

‘Communicator,’ he said. Have you got a communicator? Or a tablet… my tablet should be…’ He stretched his hand towards the personal belongings shelf above his bunk, but she stopped him with a gesture.

‘All this could only be used for comms if the on-board wireless intranet worked. But I’m afraid that’s not the case now. We’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way. The emergency button is on the right-hand side of the intercom screen. Try to find it. The emergency communication system should be able to operate independently… I mean have an independent power supply, like the on-board computer.’

‘You’re not only an expert in psychology, but also in technical systems?’ he muttered. She snorted.

‘Your sarcasm is misplaced. You’d better try to find the emergency button.’

He floated to the intercom monitor and reached out, not immediately, but still fumbling for something like a button on the right-hand panel.

‘I found it,’ he said absently, hearing her snort in irritation.

‘Well, press it.’

He pressed the button. Nothing happened. The intercom screen remained dark and the speakers silent.

‘No response,’ he said, puzzled.

‘Try again,’ the doctor said insistently.

James tried. A vague rustling sound came from the speaker, which immediately fell silent.

‘Couldn’t it be that we’re here –’ he began, but felt silent under her gaze.

‘What’re you saying?’

The fear that had risen from deep within him began to envelop him again. The doctor’s voice came to him as if from afar. He twitched, trying to chase the feeling away.

‘I wanna say… um… er…’

Dr Kirkpatrick hummed loudly.

‘Could you express yourself in words rather than interjections?’

‘I mean,’ he muttered, ‘what if you and I were the only ones left here… in a sense… um… I mean, who… survived?’

‘Of course not,’ she said firmly. ‘What an idea!’

He shrugged.

‘I just thought –’

‘If your mate Oliver thought that,’ she cut him off, ‘I’d understand, but not you.’

‘Why not me?’

‘Because you’re an Astronaut First Class, a fighter pilot. It’s time to grow out of childhood fears. At your leisure, study the spacecraft structure. Very useful to know –’ she fell silent and nodded her head at the monitor. He guessed without words and pressed the emergency button again. The intercom was still silent, but a few seconds later they heard someone’s voice. The voice was barely audible, but the speaker seemed absolutely calm.

‘…General quarters, general quarters. All hands man your battle stations…’

James smiled involuntarily. The man used a nautical call sounding unusual in a spacecraft. Dr Kirkpatrick moved him away from the monitor and, holding out her hand, pressed the emergency comms button.

‘Jon, this is Kirkpatrick. I’m blocked on G-Deck. Send someone to unblock G3 airlock; I need to get to Sickbay as soon as possible.’

‘Acknowledged, Doc…’ the voice on the intercom responded immediately. ‘Wait near the airlock, I’m sending a tech team.’

Dr Kirkpatrick floated away from the intercom.

‘Jonathan Wilson,’ she said, turning to James with a smile, ‘the deputy mission commander. A good guy, but too fascinated by naval history. By the way, for the future, if you need to use the emergency comms, keep the button pressed while you talk. It’s an old system from the days before sensor screens were invented.’

‘Understood,’ he nodded and then added, ‘what’s next?’

She snorted sarcastically.

‘What’s next? I hope to get to Sickbay, and you stay here.’

‘Maybe they need help –’ he began; she patted his shoulder and nodded.

‘They need. But you’re still under arrest. However, I think it won’t last long,’ she added, winking at James, then moved towards the entrance and floated out into the corridor.

James remained alone in the semi-dark sleeping quarters.

The question of what had really happened was still unanswered. The thud he felt before the lights went out could have been an explosion. The automatically closed airlock between the compartments itself indicated a depressurisation. Lights out, artificial gravity systems and communications problems all pointed to serious damage to the spacecraft’s systems.

At least the emergency lights and emergency communications were working again. Nevertheless, he still felt very uncomfortable.

He took a few deep breaths to calm himself and noticed that the atmosphere inside had not changed, which meant that the life-support system was working again. After a few movements to make sure he was comfortable in the weightlessness, he floated around the sleeping quarters, around the table and the intercom monitor above it, and at the entrance hatch he almost collided with Mike Hancock, who was floating into the sleeping quarters from the corridor.

The Sergeant’s face showed no sign of fear. Looking at him, it seemed as if nothing had happened and that weightlessness was the most common condition on board. Noticing James, he waved his hand.

‘You’re here. Great! Follow me.’

James had to climb a little higher, to the ceiling, to avoid running into the Sergeant.

‘I’m under arrest,’ he replied. ‘Remember?’

Hancock shrugged slightly.

‘Not anymore, or they’ve decided to lock you up tighter,’ he smirked. ‘I’ve been ordered to take you to the Hangar Deck.’

‘Why?’

‘No idea.’

‘Have you any idea what the hell happened?’

The Sergeant shook his head negatively.

‘Looks like something fucking serious. You shoulda seen what happened in our messroom.’

‘What happened there?’

Mike chuckled.

‘Guess what, you’re like sitting at the table, unpacking your cutlet with green peas, suddenly bang: the light goes out, you’re flying up, green peas on your face, cutlet flies off somewhere into darkness, techies scream like mad; they’re not used to such sorta jam. One of them has blood all over his face, I don’t know how… whatever. In a word…’ Mike waved his hands, ‘just a horrible flap. We all floundered around in the dark for about five minutes until the emergency lights came on. Comms system fell down. I’m trying to call sickbay – no response. Thank God lads were not at a loss and stopped him bleeding; at least he stopped yelling. Are you all right?’

‘At least I didn’t bloody my face.’

James decided not to tell Mike about Dr Kirkpatrick’s visit. The Sergeant nodded.

‘Okay. Let’s move, and quickly…’

The airlock to the next compartment was open, but it seemed to James that everything behind it was shrouded in fog. He sniffed, but there was no smell of burning.

‘I thought something was burning too, at first…’ Mike caught his action. ‘Life-support system is still malfunctioning, moisture condenses, that’s why there’s such a mist.’

They both continued down along the companionway to the lower deck, remaining silent. James noted to himself that there was no sign of panic among the spacecraft crew, which meant the situation should be under control. Squadron Leader Dutton met them on the Flight Deck, hovering near the closed airlock to the hangar. Not far away, James noticed Steve, who also noticed him and waved in a friendly manner. The Flight commander, however, seemed very unfriendly.

‘Well, you, you and you…’ He pointed at Steve, then at James and Mike. ‘Put on your spacesuits and move to F Deck. You are at the disposal of Flight Lieutenant Andrews. Do you all know him?’

‘I do,’ James replied automatically, remembering the Technical Services Chief’s name and face he had time to remember when he testified before the Investigation Commission.

‘Alright. We’ve got a lot of damn problems, so we need to do this quickly.’

‘That means I’m no longer under arrest, sir,’ James put in involuntarily, regretting his words instantly. Squadron Leader Dutton looked at him with a piercing stare.

‘Damn it, Jenkins,’ he barked, ‘do you know what you’re saying?’ Then he exhaled, calmed down a bit, and continued in his usual tone, ‘Yes, you’re no longer under arrest… until further notice. That’s all, go!’

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

‘Sir, yes sir!’ Mike and Steve replied in chorus. James followed them. Dutton’s face returned to its former impassive expression and he nodded silently.

Putting on a spacesuit in weightlessness was not so easy. In the training ship, technicians had assisted them, but now they had to help each other. Moving onto F Deck, they encountered a locked airlock. And here, all around was shrouded in a foggy mist, too. James guessed that part of the deck had been depressurised.

‘You can’t go through here,’ someone from the spacecraft crew shouted at them. The voice in James’s helmet headphones sounded suddenly sharp. ‘There’s huge rubble on the other side. You’ll have to go to the deck above and then move to the end of the main corridor towards the stern and go down through airlock E11…’

… ‘We must clear the debris immediately…’ Flight Lieutenant Andrews’s voice sounded dispassionate. The Chief of Technical Services was easily identifiable by the nameplate on his spacesuit. ‘Four crew members were trapped in the next compartment,’ he went on, gesturing to his team with some signs. ‘The life support in that compartment has completely failed. They have less than an hour of air. Sergeant Hancock, you’re in charge. Understood?’

This part of F Deck seemed to have borne the brunt of whatever it was. James noticed concave bulkheads and a sagging ceiling in places. The emergency lighting was down. The technicians were installing autonomous light sources along the bulkheads.

‘Yes, sir!’ Mike Hancock responded first.

‘Very well, Sergeant. Proceed!’ The Flight Lieutenant waved his hand and moved along the corridor, following the engineering team. All three pilots moved in the opposite direction.

‘Easy to say, get rid of the rubble –’ Steve began and hesitated, seeming to remember that Andrews could hear all this talk. Mike patted him on the shoulder, or rather touched his shoulder with his hand. Steve was unlikely to feel touched through his spacesuit.

‘No choice, lads…’ James heard his voice accompanied by background noise. Apparently there had been an electrical discharge somewhere, temporarily disrupting radio communications. ‘We must do what we must…’

They were already in the side corridor that led to the blocked section of deck. The bulkheads here were bent noticeably into the corridor; the further path was blocked by twisted metal structures piled up right in front of the airlock to the next compartment …

… The next few hours seemed like an eternity to James. Moving the metal structures was no easy task. In weightlessness, the shattered pieces of metal weighed nothing; it was just that all movement was too slow. Each piece had to be carried one by one to the other end of the corridor, where two technicians hooked them together with ordinary wire and attached them to the bulkhead. Such a primitive method seemed completely unrealistic in a spacecraft. From time to time he could hear the technicians in his headphones talking about repairing the life-support system.

A group of medics, led by Dr Kirkpatrick, came along, as they three removed the last of the debris blocking the airlock. The medics brought with them four spacesuits, intended, James guessed, for those crew members waiting for help in the next compartment. All three pilots were kindly but firmly asked to get away, and the rescue operation continued without their participation. Flight Lieutenant Andrews immediately found them a new task: carrying the debris to the freight lift near the companionway. Another two hours passed before James had a chance to take a short rest while the technicians replaced the oxygen tanks in their spacesuits. They had to eat dinner in the same damaged compartment, where two unknown junior crew members delivered dry rations.

James slept briefly, still in weightlessness, strapped his sleeping bag down to his bunk. The next morning his spacesuit was waiting for him again, along with a few more hours of debris removal. This time he worked with Kevin on the Flight Deck while the A Flight pilots stretched the emergency lighting cables. Then Andrews sent him back down to F Deck, along with Steve and Mike, to replace the bulkhead structures that had been warped by the blast wave, which they did for several hours under the direction of an unknown technician from the spacecraft crew.

Lunchtime had long passed by the time they found themselves in the changing room. It was time to replenish their oxygen supplies. Looking at himself in the mirror, James was surprised to notice that he looked as if he had spent the last few hours in the water. The entire flight suit was wet and his hair was all tangled. Mike and Steve looked no better. The door swung open abruptly and Flight Sergeant Rowling appeared in the doorway, hovering over the threshold.

‘Jenkins, Wolverton, report to the Squadron commander’s office right now,’ she said in a commanding voice. ‘Wing Commander Burton is waiting for you both.’

‘Sir?’ Steve began in bewilderment.

‘What’s unclear, Astronaut Second Class?’ The Flight Sergeant’s voice sounded as if nothing had happened. ‘Wing Commander Burton is waiting for you both in his office. Move quickly, this is the order!’

She moved back and shut the door. Steve looked at James in surprise.

‘Winco Burton knows my name?’ he said puzzled.

‘Sure,’ James reacted. ‘He signed the order to transfer you to the auxiliary. And he should know my name too. After all, I’m the first and only arrested in the Squadron’s history.’

‘Maybe, maybe,’ Steve muttered. ‘Why does he need us?’

‘No idea.’

Steve looked at Mike questioningly. The Sergeant shrugged.

‘If I could say anything, boys, I’d say… Well –’ he paused, ‘move to the office as she said. An order is an order. By the way, it wouldn’t hurt you two to change your clothes –’ He paused again. ‘…From the other side, if Rowling said nothing about our appearance, it probably doesn’t matter for now. The old lady has a nose for such things…’

The artificial gravity system suddenly switched on when they were halfway to the Squadron commander’s office. James barely had time to grasp the railing on the bulkhead to land to his feet instead of falling down on the deck. After hours of weightlessness, it was not easy to feel his own weight again. He entered the office on half-bent legs.

He had never been here before. The Squadron commander’s office inside was not so far from the Flight commander’s, except that it was more spacious. However, there was barely enough of a place for James and Steve. The entire Squadron Command staff seemed to be gathered in the office. James immediately recognised Squadron Leader Sawyer, the figure of Squadron Leader King looming behind him. Moncroft was there too. Flight Lieutenant Jennings was seated in the far corner, seemingly oblivious to his immediate subordinates. Technical Service Chief Andrews was finishing his report to the commander when James and Steve appeared in the doorway. James opened his mouth to report; Squadron Leader Dutton, having spotted them both, gestured for him to stop. Meanwhile, Wing Commander Burton tapped his fingers thoughtfully on his desk.

‘So you think the Flight Deck needn’t be repaired, am I right, Mr Andrews?’ said he. ‘Okay. However, two hangars, I mean the hangars A and C are still depressurised, right?’

Andrews nodded in agreement.

‘That’s right, sir. We hope to restore air supply within a few hours –’ He paused. Squadron Leader Dutton seized a moment.

‘Jenkins and Wolverton have arrived, sir,’ he said.

‘Sorry?’ The Squadron Leader did not immediately understand and nodded only after a short pause. ‘Very well, let’s get this over with right now.’

He gestured for James and Steve to come closer, seemingly paying no attention to their appearance. The senior officers moved apart so that the two could approach the commander’s table. James noticed that they all looked as if they had just had a bath in their uniforms.

‘Do you know the situation now, Astronaut?’ the Wing Commander looked directly at James as if expecting an answer.

‘Partly, sir,’ James replied.

Burton grunted.

‘Usually people answer like that,’ he said slowly, ‘if they don’t know anything. However, it’s understandable. No one can answer such a question in the affirmative at the moment, if anyone can answer it at all. The spacecraft has been seriously damaged. We don’t yet know exactly what has happened. What is clear is that we cannot continue the mission in such conditions. Colonel Garneau assures me that all the damage can be repaired by the crew. But the repair work requires a number of critical components that are not on board. The nearest supply craft is more than six months away from our current position. This is an old spacecraft equipped only with a classic low-power ion thruster. As you can see, we cannot wait so long because of the possibility of enemy attack. In my opinion, such a possibility is purely theoretical, but we must consider all possibilities.

‘Mr Garneau is about to send an experimental shuttlecraft towards the supply craft. Actually, as far as I know, it’s a small spacecraft designed for autonomous orbital surveys of planets, or… whatever…’ He waved his hand. ‘Well, it doesn’t matter. The main thing is that this craft is equipped with a propulsion system capable of impulse speed. In that case, the flight to the rendezvous point with the supply craft will only take about twelve days, as Mr Garneau assured us. I’m not going to go into details because, to be honest, I’m not very good at that. So, within a month at least, we could get the equipment necessary to complete the repairs and return the spacecraft to a combat-ready condition –’

He paused once more and then continued, looking directly at James again.

‘…However, there is a problem. The shuttlecraft is not equipped with weapons systems, as it was not designed for combat operations. Our technicians would have to install those systems, and you two would be operators of those systems during the mission. None of the Space Agency personnel are trained to do that, but I hope you have been trained…’

The last words, it seemed to James, were uttered with a hint of irony.

‘…So now you must proceed to your new duty station. Mr Dutton will give you further instructions. You’re both to report to Major…’ he made a break, looking at a tablet on his desk, ‘Major Jemison or…’ he moved his finger across the tablet screen, ‘Lieutenant Leverton. That’s all. Dismissed.’

‘Sir, may I ask a question?’ Steve said when the three were out in the corridor. Dutton replied wearily, ‘You may, Mr Wolverton, but I’m not sure I can answer it. Besides, we haven’t got much time…’ He looked at James and Steve and grunted. ‘M-hmm, it might be a good idea for you two to change your clothes. Go to Flight Sergeant Rowling. Tell her I’ve ordered to give you a pair of new flight suits. Don’t forget to put on your name and rank patches. I’m sure none of you want to look like those civvies.’

James guessed the Squadron Leader was talking about Space Agency personnel.

‘Excuse me, sir,’ Steve began again, ‘I meant the explosion… uh –’

Dutton winced in annoyance.

‘That’s exactly what I don’t have an answer for,’ he said.

‘I meant, was it an enemy attack or a meteor –’ The Squadron Leader stopped him with a gesture, took a deep breath, and shrugged.

‘I don’t know, as I said, Mr Wolverton…’ He looked at Steve sternly. ‘And nobody knows. As you may have already guessed, this was neither an enemy attack nor a meteorite. Otherwise we wouldn’t be talking about it now. The only thing I can say for sure is that there was an explosion on F Deck. What caused the explosion, I don’t know, and nobody knows, at least at this point. Certainly we can speculate and make assumptions, and spend a hell of a lot of time on it, but I think you understand that it makes no sense, at least not to us. Everybody has to do their job. You have both been given a task, get on with it.’

‘Sir?’ James looked at the Flight Commander questioningly. Dutton knitted his eyebrows and signs of irritation appeared on his face.

‘Any more questions, Mr Jenkins?’ he threw out abruptly. ‘Oh, yeah…’ he seemed to have guessed, his tone softening noticeably. ‘Honestly…’ he spread his hands, ‘I’ve no idea what instructions I should give you. Barton seems as dizzy as the rest of us. Chandra and Ferguson work on the weapons systems. You both know them both well, I guess. They’ll show you all around and tell you all about. You can figure out what’s what on your own, I suppose. By the way, the artificial brains of this experimental scientific flying… box may not be compatible with our weapons systems. So I’m afraid in the event of… well, you get my drift, you’d have to rely on your own brains.’

With these words he bit his lip and stared off into the distance somewhere, even though the only thing he could see in front of him was the airlock leading to the next compartment. Then he looked again at both pilots standing in front of him.

‘…And, boys…’ he paused for a moment, and then continued with unexpected warmth in his voice, ‘try to come back alive. I mean it.’

He took a deep breath, shook his head, and headed for the Squadron commander’s office.

‘Nice parting words,’ James muttered as the door closed behind the Squadron Leader. ‘By the way, how did he say: an experimental scientific flying box? What does that mean?’

‘We’ll see soon,’ Steve said energetically, smiling. ‘That may not sound too exciting, but we were given a real mission, got it? And, of course, Rowling won’t be there.’

‘That’s a good thing, too.’

‘Well, what are we waiting for?’ Steve patted James on the shoulder. ‘Come on…’

…Less than an hour later, having sorted things out with Rowling, who looked as grim as ever but spoke surprisingly kindly to them and gave them everything they asked for without any questions, wearing new, clean and not even wrinkled flight suits, with backpacks on their shoulders, they were both standing behind the airlock leading to the experimental shuttle docked to the lower part of the Endurance. This spacecraft was called a shuttle, but was too big to fit in the hangar. However, as soon as they passed through the airlock, an unexpected problem came up. Contrary to James’s expectations, no one was waiting for them. He felt about the same as he had on his first day aboard the Endurance. Steve, meanwhile, remained perfectly calm.

‘Civvies have their own rules,’ he grinned. ‘I mean, they have no rules. We’d definitely have a duty officer’s post here. Have you any idea where to go?’

James had none, so he did not answer.

‘…Okay, let’s move on,’ Steve continued with a grin. ‘There’s gotta be someone out there, right?’

Having passed through another airlock, which was also wide open, they found themselves in a narrow corridor that split in two after a few steps. An open hatch in the floor apparently led down to the lower deck. James peered into the hatch and looked questioningly at Steve.

‘I don’t think this way,’ Steve said with a grin, suddenly waving his hand. ‘Hey!’

Following his mate’s glance, James noticed someone’s figure flashing and disappearing almost instantly at the end of the left corridor. Steve shook his head.

‘Unbelievable,’ he muttered and paused, then waved his hand again. ‘Well, if there’s someone out there, that’s where we’re going,’ he said and stepped decisively into the left corridor.

James immediately noticed that the shuttlecraft was not very spacious inside. His head almost touched the ceiling, lined with pipes and cables. Taller people would have to walk crouched. They only took a few steps and then had to turn right again, following the twists and turns of the corridor. James did not see any handrails for movement in weightlessness, which was understandable. The corridor was so narrow that they had to walk in a line behind each other. On both sides of the corridor were oval doors, James counted four, all of them closed, unlike the airlocks.

Then they had two more turns and another airlock to go through before they found themselves in a larger room, at the far end of which James noticed a large viewscreen almost a half of the bulkhead. The flight control station was right before the screen. Similar consoles were installed to the left and right. Unknown instrument panels were visible on the side bulkheads. Once inside, they both stopped. There seemed to be no one there, but after a few seconds James noticed a young girl in the far corner.

She was wearing an emerald green Space Agency flight suit, but he could not make out any rank insignia. The girl’s pose made it difficult. She stood sideways to him, leaning over one of the consoles, and examined something carefully. At that moment, something seemed to catch her eye; she straightened up and turned to face them. Steve was not embarrassed at all, quite the contrary. With a slight flick of his hand, he fixed his favourite hairstyle, which he had spent an extra ten minutes on while they changed their wet and wrinkled flight suits for new ones, and stepped forward, his face giving the most welcoming expression.

‘Hi!’ he began in a casual tone as if the girl was already his old good friend. ‘Is anybody here?’

James thought the question sounded a bit silly in this situation, but Steve did not seem to notice anything and continued to smile with a full mouth. The girl looked at them slightly puzzled and James immediately remembered where and when he had seen her. This was the same girl who had sent Steve off quite cleverly when they were carrying their fighters’ artificial intelligence systems to the diagnostic lab somewhere deep inside the spacecraft. He was even surprised how well he remembered her face, which seemed quite pretty, and her ponytail hairstyle.

‘Looking for someone?’ she asked in a neutral tone, raising her eyebrows slightly.

‘We’re looking for Major Jamison or Lieutenant Leverton,’ Steve replied in the same way. ‘We’ve been ordered to… Well, we’ve been told they need lads who can do things they can’t.’

The girl gave him an appraising look and snorted.

‘Major Jamison isn’t here just now,’ said she. ‘But you can report your arrival to me. I’m Lieutenant Leverton.’

The smile slipped from Steve’s face in an instant and he froze with his mouth agape.