Page 7

CHAPTER FIVE

“...I think that’s the last of it,” hesitation quivers in Anderson’s tone. My comms crackle in and out.

I reach down to check Chelenko. His head at least seems to have stopped bleeding, a bubble of red fluid clings to his brow, but as I wipe it away, raw flesh is revealed. Angry, broken flesh, but blood no longer beads along the wound.

More concerning is the single blown pupil on his left eye. That has me worried. Very worried.

“Danger passed ,” Anderson calls out, his voice more certain this time.

I unzip Chelenko’s flight suit to the waist. His white vest is a mess of crimson. I lift it, peeling the wet fabric from his skin, releasing a few beads of blood that escape, floating off into the air.

His torso is mottled with deep, dark-blue and black bruises all the way along his chest and abdomen. The bruising interlaced with silvery scars from past injuries. I can’t imagine the rest of him is faring much better.

My fingers pause at the waistband of his p ants. Just above his hip bone, the sharp tip of the wire micro-cutters are stuck in. Deep. About an inch or so.

I’m no doctor, but I’m thinking this is bad. Very bad.

I click my tongue as I try to think my way out of this mess. My mind whirs a mile a minute. Hull breach. Chelenko stabbed in the gut. My ribs still burn furiously. And is it getting colder in here?

My eyes dart around, searching. The engineer in me concluding we need some duct tape. The universal tool for a quick fix-em-up.

“Is bad, eh?” Chelenko coughs, his breath labours.

“No! No... I was just admiring this hot bod you've been hiding.”

He laughs, groaning as a shudder ripples through his body. “Funny hurts,” he grunts.

It wasn’t a complete lie, I muse as I apply pressure around the wound. My hands press against his abdomen. His brows pull down into a deep frown, reminding me of how he’s usually a scrooge about just about everything.

“Everyone, sound off,” Clayton calls out, his voice tinny over the comms.

“Anderson. Aiko’s in command central with me.”

“Nespoli. Yuri and I are with Hadfield and Pesquet in Harmony.”

“Matherson here.”

“Reiter, Müllers here too. In Leonardo.”

There’s static over the comms. Peake? Chelenko?” Clayton’s voice rumbles. “Check-in.”

“Peake here.” It cuts out, and I give it a little percussive engineering as I whack it before trying again. “ Peake here. Chelenko needs medical attention in Columbus.” The comms link sounds gravelly, cutting in and out. I don’t know how much they heard, but at least they know I’m alive.

“Alex? Where are you? Anyone with her?” Müller's panicked voice cuts in.

“I’ll check on her, she was in the lab with Chelenko last I saw,” Luca calls out.

A muffled banging sounds. I release the straps holding me, and peer out from our little impromptu burrow to check where it's coming from.

My face drops as I spot the now-sealed shut hatch. Müller’s wide eyes and panicked face peers through the small glass panel, his cheeks ruddy and hair mussed as if he flew here.

“Peake? We are dead yet?”

“Still breathing.” I pat his arm lightly, and he grunts in reply. “Hold on, Chelenko, I’ll be right back.”

Unfolding myself from beneath the counter, I push off the metal surface, rushing to the door and banging my hand on the glass.

“I’m here. My comms are playing up.”

" Gott sei Dank .” Müller places his hand against mine, our palms separated by a few inches of glass.

He speaks into his comms. “Got them. Peake and Chelenko in Columbus. They’re trapped. ”

“Chelenko needs a medic,” I glance back at Chelenko under the counter, before I hush my voice, leaning closer to the glass separating us, as if that will help shield Chelenko from the reality of my words.

I open my hand, releasing the red beads into the air. At his frown, I crush one, smearing the blood across my palm.

“It’s…bad.” I mouth, shaking my head.

My throat constricts, threatening to release a sob, so I take a deep breath.

“Are you hurt?” He slides over to the computer console beside the hatch, tapping away.

“I’ll live. The door?” I try to keep the sobbing at bay with quick replies.

Now is not the time for a breakdown.

The static interrupting my comms as I speak is not really conducive to a calming environment.

He blanches. Returning his gaze to mine as he presses his hand against the glass once more.

He hits his comms. “Müller here. Chelenko needs a medic.”

“ I saw it .” I wonder aloud.

“Saw what?” he asks.

“Straight through. Right in front of me.”

I hear thunder along the corridor. A series of thuds against metal .

“Alex, you aren’t making much sense. What happened?” Müller asks.

The thudding grows closer, merging with the pounding of my heart.

“Meteor.”

“ Sheisse .”

A rush of blonde hair appears. Matthias quickly pulls away and is back at the console keyboard.

“Alex? Mio Dio , you scared me. Are you hurt?”

Müller ignores Luca. “ Mein Herz . I promise you, I will get you out of there.”

Luca’s eyes widen, blanching as he processes whatever information the computer console has displayed. Even pressing my face closer to the glass doesn’t quite get me the right angle to read it.

Scrubbing one hand through his blonde hair, his eyes dart between me, the air-locked hatch, and the console. He’s panicking. Whereas Müller?

He’s cool as a cucumber. Jumping straight into action. His clever fingers glide over the console’s keyboard as his eyes skim over lines, upon lines, of reports – the red lines of text mirrored in his black pupils.

Trust me.” Matthias says as he puts his hand back on the glass against my palm. He scans my face as if etching it to memory before he speaks into the comms.

“The system is detecting a hull breach inside Columbus. They’re leaking atmosphere. Heat pumps disabled. Automated emergency containment procedures in place. The system won’t let me override.”

The panic I was holding back flows free. Nausea rises in my stomach. Tears prick at my eyes as I attempt to steady myself. The hard metal of my prison walls scrapes against my back as I push myself against it.

steady myself. The hard metal of my prison walls scrapes against my back as I push myself against it.

I collapse along the wall into a crumpled heap, floating a few inches from the metal paneling. Embracing the fetal position.

I am going to die.

In space. Less than 12 hours before I’m due home. The universe is a cruel mistress.

A harsh laugh erupts from me. Luca looks concerned. Müller is back at the console, tapping away.

Luca lowers into a crouch on the other side of the door, level with my ball of despair. The thin strip of glass allows us to see each other.

“It’s okay.” Though his concern wears deeper with each passing second. Frown lines form like small crevices across his forehead and wrinkle around his eyes. He doesn’t think I’m making it out of here.

“How is Chelenko ?” Matthias asks.

A distraction technique, but it’s bloody working . Work-mode Alex can survive anything.

I swipe the tears from my eyes, the salty water floating away in small spheres. I’m sniffling as I look over to Chelenko. His eyes are shiny, and his lips are contorted in a grimace.

“Wire cutters sticking out his gut.” Luca winces at my callous words. “Head injury, too,” I add.

Luca plucks an ornate cross from beneath his grey t-shirt, rubbing his thumb over the worn metal – the gold rubbed smooth from past worries. He mutters a prayer under his breath before he signs the cross over his chest and finally gives the metal crucifix a chaste kiss.

“It’s not as bad as all that. Is it?” I jest, still on the precipice of hysteria. Or perhaps I can blame it on the dwindling oxygen supply.

“You will be ok. We still need to talk.” He offers me a meek smile that hurts my heart to see.

“Luca, about that. I meant what I said before.”

“Shh, we’ll talk once this is,” he sighs, searching my eyes. “ Tutto finito .”

I nod, relenting.

“Peake,” Chelenko grumbles from beneath the counter, trying to sit up, leaning back on his elbows.

I slide across the floor to him. “I’m here. I got you.”

He groans. “Medic?”

“On the way, I’m sure. It’s one of the new girls.”

“More women,” he grumbles.

“Maybe we don’t say that to her. We want them to save your sorry arse, remember? ”

He guffaws once, before it descends into a coughing fit. I jump up and grab a bag of distilled water from one of the racks. Ignoring the ‘Not fit for human consumption’ warning label, I unscrew the cap and offer it to his lips. He takes a few small sips before pushing it away.

“ Spasibo .” He leans back against the floor, no longer working against the straps holding him in place.

“Need rest.”

This does not sound like good news.

“Wake me... medic...”

I nod, brushing hair back from his face as he closes his eyes. A slight smile forms as he leans into my touch.

“Medic update?” I call out on my comms.

“ Incoming. ” Clayton’s calming voice responds – at least it should be calming, but I’ve worked with him enough to know that that is his ‘shit has hit the fan, but we follow protocol’ voice.

“Let’s make you comfy,” I say to Chelenko, looking around for something soft. There’s nothing but clinical metal, hard plastic and glass.

I pull my t-shirt off from beneath my flight suit and bundle it up, sandwiching it between his head and the hard, cold metal beneath as a makeshift pillow. He grumbles as I lift his head, his eyes remaining firmly shut. I give his hand a quick squeeze before I head back to the hatch door.

The odds of him making it out of here in one piece are looking slim to none – luckily, I always did root for an underdog.

“Luca?” I call out, craning my neck to try to spot him at the window.

“I sent him away,” Matthias says, not looking up from the console.

“Müller–

“We don’t need him here.”

“Müller–” I raise my voice, and my mind flicks back to a previous argument, one of many towards the end of our marriage.

“Matthias.”

“Fine,” I take a deep breath. “ Matthias. ”

“Yes, Alex?”

“How are we going to get out of here?”

His gaze dances over my face, his eyes wild as he takes me in. “I calculate you have five hours of air if the breach remains the same size. Plenty of time for me to figure this out.”

I nod, instinctively holding my breath a moment as if to prolong those five short hours.

I watch as he works, his brows furrowing with concentration. He looks older now, much older than before, or perhaps I just hadn’t noticed it when we saw each other every day .

He always had a serious look about him. Some might call him stern. Hell, he didn’t make many friends during his PhD days. I bonded with my fellow students over our tyrant professor. Not Matthias. He was probably Director Buzzkill, enforcing the procedures and protocols.

But they just didn’t know him. Didn’t try to know who he was beneath the mask he wears. I don’t think he ever let anyone see who he really was. No one except for me.

I watch as he works, laser-focused on the task at hand. He almost frowns, the furrow between his brows twitching.

“Why are you here?” The words are out before I even realise I’ve said them.

“You need help. I’m helping.”

I can barely glimpse the squiggle of red lines on the console from where I am pushed up against the glass.

“No. I mean here . Space. The station. Why aren’t you back on Earth? Where’s Tiggie?”

He scoffs. “You worry for the cat?”

“You didn’t put him in one of those kennel places, did you? He doesn’t like strangers.”

“The cat is fine. Mutti hat ihn .”

“She’ll make him fat again.”

He snorts out a harsh laugh, as if his throat is unpracticed, and it squeezes at my heart. I know this man. I know his body, his face, his everything. I used to be able to read him like a book. We would laugh for hours, until our throats were hoarse, and now his body barely remembers how.

I try to size him up through the small window. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not the one trapped.”

“Does Dianna know you’re here?” He ignores me. “I always thought you two would be good together.” He ignores that as well. “I’m sure she was quick to step into my shoes.”

Now he looks up, and it feels too intimate, too exposing. “She didn’t. I didn’t want her.”

I pause, considering how he might have been completely alone these past few years, and not as quick to move on as I had always thought. Discarding our memories and focusing on what truly matters to him - his work.

“I–”

“I never wanted her”.

“I…”

He sighs, “She was not you.”

I owe him an explanation. An apology…

“Luca–” I begin.

“I don’t want to hear his name from your mouth.”

“Müll–” A small wrinkle forms between his brows. “ Matthias . He’s an engineer, like me, he can help. ”

One of his thick brown brows raises. “He collects rocks. I fail to see how that could help.”

I don’t even attempt to hide my eye roll at this infuriatingly stubborn man.

“I came here for you. I will be leaving with you.” He says as I watch the scrolling red lines of text reflecting in his eyes.

“Yeah, about that.”

We both turn to face the voice, Clayton, who has Callie and Luca in tow. “We’ve lost contact with Earth. Looks like it’ll be a little longer for that ride home”.