Space veterans are a tough lot, and they don’t put up with a lot. They don’t tolerate newbies very well, so you have to be a special sort to earn their trust. Read on, and find out how.
That was the thing about flying: didn’t matter whether it was a puddle jumper in the Caribbean or a transport shuttle here in space, delays were a given. Only two hours this time, but it was enough to sour Wade’s mood. Not that it took much—he was soft from a month spent planet-side, and the physical demands of spaceflight had turned him cranky. But they’d finally let him board the shuttle.
He stowed his bag in the forward lockers and strapped himself into his favorite seat along the shuttle’s starboard bulkhead. He’d done this run enough times to know which seats weren’t lumpy or stained or on the verge of falling apart. Outside the window, the sparkle of welding operations lit up a pair of workers huddled on Maya Station’s exterior. He rubbed his belly, hoping he’d fit into his own spacesuit when they arrived at Ozark. It always seemed to shrink after he came back from leave.
A figure floated in from the boarding bay. Young dude, couldn’t be more than twenty, hair dyed bright green, pierced in too many places—one was too many, as far as Wade was concerned—a tattoo of a hand just under his left eye—and was he wearing makeup? He was a he, right?
The new guy smiled at him. “You must be Wade Gartrell.”
“What the hell is it to you?” Wade returned the smile with a scowl.
The guy held up his hands. “It’s all cool. I took a peek at the manifest, and we’re the only two people heading out to Ozark. I put two and two together.”
“Good for you.”
“I’m Nolan Eisner. Mind if I join you?”
Wade ran fingers through his scraggly beard, making a point of looking around at the other empty seats before finally saying, “Whatever. It’s not my ship.”
Nolan put his duffle in a locker and took the seat right next to Wade.
“Really?” Wade frowned. “An empty shuttle and you gotta sit right by me?”
“Sorry.” Nolan moved over a few seats.
Wade assessed Nolan again, taking in his hair, piercings, tattoo. He wore a cropped T-shirt that showed his smooth-skinned midriff—and yet another piercing. That wasn’t going to cut it where they were going, culturally or practically. He looked down at his own clothing: flannel shirt (he knew how cold it could get inside a spacesuit), heavy work pants (he’d learned the hard way after ripping holes in lighter material), steel-toed boots (too many acquaintances had lost toes in accidents).
The Ozark mining colony was full of practical folk like him. Hardscrabble miners prospecting the asteroid 1036 Ganymed for any scraps of rare-earth metals. A few had hit paydirt and retired back on Earth or Luna. The rest, like Wade, kept digging—and dreaming. They didn’t tolerate any woke bullshit, any non-conformity. You didn’t fit in, you died, one way or another. Working in space was like that. He wondered how long Nolan would last. And why he was going somewhere like Ozark in the first place.
The pilot finally came aboard, closing and dogging the main hatch before turning to Wade and Nolan. “Sorry for the delay, gentlemen. Lucky you, they called me out for an off-schedule trip, so you’ve got the whole ship to yourselves. Should be an easy and boring flight out to Ozark, about nine hours or so, after I get us up to cruising speed. Refreshments here, lav at the back”—he pointed around the cabin—“comm station if you want to call home or stream any entertainment.” He hiked a thumb over his shoulder. “And you know where to find me if you need me.” He tapped a video screen on the bulkhead. “Watch the safety briefing while I get us undocked and on our way.” He disappeared into the cockpit.
Wade stretched out his legs, already bored. “So what made someone like you choose a place like Ozark?”
Nolan pointed at the video screen. “Aren’t we supposed to watch this?”
Wade waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t bother. Pilot’s right, nothing ever happens on this run. So?”
Nolan leaned forward. “I wanted to be an astronaut since I was a kid. My goal was to work as a mission specialist on Mars or Luna, but I didn’t make the cut. So I had to find some other way to make it to space.” Nolan seemed effusive now that Wade had finally shown some interest in him.
“Yeah, but why somewhere like Ozark? Maya or one of the other space stations would seem more like your kind of place.”
“My kind of place?” Nolan arched an eyebrow.
“You know. More diversity.” He gritted his teeth on the word.
A faint vibration rumbled under their feet as the spacecraft began its journey. “I needed some way to pay for the training. I studied geology, so a mining op seemed like the way to go. I found an outfit that covered my costs in exchange for a cut of my earnings for the first five years.”
“Ouch.” Wade gave him an exaggerated wince. “You know what you’re getting into, right? We don’t cotton to the liberal shit y’all back on Earth are into.” Wade let the acceleration push him deeper into his seat and closed his eyes. “Might as well get some shut-eye. It’s a long ride.”
#
A loud POP woke Wade from a shallow slumber. The cabin lights were dimmed, and the only sound was a distant hum from the engine. He turned to Nolan, who was awake and looking at him with wide eyes. “Did you hear that?”
Nolan nodded. “Is that normal?”
“No, it’s not fucking normal.” He peered out the window, as if expecting to see something besides the inky black of space. When he unstrapped and pushed himself out of his seat, the lights brightened. He moved toward the open cockpit entryway just as another POP echoed through the hull.
The pilot’s voice came over the speaker. “We’re encountering some uncharted meteoroids. Just to be safe, you’d better—”
A deafening staccato roared through the cabin—a hundred Gatling guns all firing at once. Wade crouched as if the ceiling were going to collapse around him. One POP, louder and deeper than the others, boomed from the front of the ship. A sudden wind blew through Wade’s hair, and the cockpit door instantly sealed shut. Red lights suddenly flashed from the corners of the cabin, and an automated voice began blaring an alert. “Warning. Hull breach. Follow safety protocols.”
Wade leapt to the comm panel, bringing up a video feed of the cockpit. The pilot remained in his seat, but he faced the port-side bulkhead with bulging, bloodshot eyes. Ice crystals were already forming on his skin. On the bulkhead, a fist-sized black hole stared back like a shark’s eye.
“Jesus fuck,” Wade whispered. Nolan was behind him, gaping at the screen over his shoulder. The kid was probably shitting his pants, ready to wilt like a pansy if Wade didn’t give him something to do. “Grab some vac suits. Tools. Whatever else you can find.” Nolan scurried off, not needing to be told twice. That was good. He opened a comm channel. “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. Maya Control, this is the shuttle bound from Maya Station to Ozark”—he glanced around, looking for any identifying marks—“spacecraft name and designation unknown. Request immediate assistance.” He cycled through multiple screens, checking the status of the ship’s systems.
The popcorn sounds had ceased. Meanwhile, Nolan had laid out two spacesuits and was ransacking the lockers. Wade wasn’t sure how Nolan was going to fit in at Ozark, but he was satisfied to see that the kid kept a cool head in a crisis. And this one looked to be manageable. Other than the cockpit, the hull integrity seemed stable.
Nolan set down a toolbox and began putting on a spacesuit. “Don’t bother with that yet,” Wade said. “The cockpit is compromised, but the rest of the ship checks out. We should be OK to finish the ride with Maya piloting us remotely. Just waiting to hear back.”
“Engines okay? Any idea if we’re still on course?”
“Well, we’re standing, not floating, so that means we’re still accelerating. But I’m shit for navigation. How about you?”
“I qual’d at ESA last year. Want me to take a look?”
Wade gestured to the console. “Be my guest.”
Nolan stepped up to the screen, pushing green bangs out of his eyes. He swiped through several screens, stopping on one that displayed data surrounded by a pulsing yellow border. He studied the data and then turned to Wade. “Did you see this?”
Wade peered closer. “What is it?”
“We’re bleeding air. You’re sure it’s just the cockpit?”
“How did I miss that?” He gave Nolan an appraising look. “Can you locate the leak?”
As if in answer to his question, a loud fart-like rattle issued from the cockpit door seal. They both heard the slow hiss that followed it.
Wade nodded to the spacesuits. “Guess we’d better put those on after all.”
Minutes later, they stood in front of the cockpit door. In the spacesuit, Nolan could have been anyone. None of the things that made him stand out were visible. Wade could almost let himself believe that the kid belonged out here. He’d even pulled on his suit faster than Wade—that was a surprise. Wade blamed his vacation belly.
He blocked the door with one arm and looked at Nolan. “I’ve equalized the pressure, so we can open the door whenever you’re ready. You’re sure you want to do this?”
“I literally just got my patching cert last month.”
“Yeah, but was there a dead body in the room with you?”
Nolan picked up the patch kit and toolbox. “Come on, let’s go.”
The spacesuit swallowed Wade’s shrug as he unlocked the door and yanked it open.
The dead pilot looked just like he did on video. Wade moved to the far side of the cockpit and turned to watch Nolan’s face through his visor. Wade had seen too many dead bodies to count, and one more was no big shock. Accidental death was as much a part of living and working in space as zero gravity. But it was probably Nolan’s first time. Vomit or no vomit? He wished he had someone to bet against.
But Nolan disappointed him by placing the toolbox on the deck, rotating the pilot’s chair to face away from him, and getting right to work on the hole. In a matter of minutes, it was sealed. Slip, slap, like he was patching drywall.
Wade punched Nolan’s arm. “Look at you! Like you’ve been out here for years. Think that’ll hold?”
Nolan rolled his eyes.
“Feeling lucky, okay.” He tapped on one of the cockpit screens. “Repressurizing now.” After a moment, he grinned at Nolan. “Take off your helmet.”
“You first.”
With a flourish, Wade removed his helmet and took a deep breath. “Just messing with ya. Everything’s in the green. Nice work.”
“Thanks.” Nolan removed his own helmet and turned his attention to the pilot’s console. “Looks like the destination coordinates are still set, but I’ll have to run some calculations to see if we’re still on course.”
Wade brought up the comm system on another screen. “No need, looks like Maya Control got our message. Send them the nav codes, and they’ll take us the rest of the way.”
Nolan tapped a few times. “Done.” He swung the pilot’s seat back around. “What should we do with him?” No trace of queasiness on his face.
“Probably best to leave him be, in case there’s an investigation. We can seal the cockpit again and lower the temperature.”
As Wade turned to go, Nolan opened cabinets until he found what he was looking for: an emergency blanket. He draped it over the dead man before following Wade back out to the main cabin.
Wade immediately began stripping off his suit. “Time to resume my previously scheduled nap.”
#
Some time later, Wade opened one eye. He was too keyed up to sleep, no matter how routine accidents in space were. He peeked over at Nolan. The kid was also awake, reading something on his pad. The lights had dimmed again. The hum of the engine was the only sound—no more hissing, so that was good. He sat up. “No sleep for you?”
“After that experience? Not likely.” He held up his pad. “Besides, I wanted to get refreshed on 1036 Ganymed’s geology.”
“We don’t call it that. Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue.”
“Yes, I know. ‘Ozark’ for the Missouri heritage of the first prospectors to land on the asteroid. But hey, I’m a scientist, I prefer using the scientific names of things.”
Wade stepped over to the refreshment dispenser and filled a bottle of coffee. Taking a sip, he looked Nolan up and down again, trying to picture him living and working at Ozark. Dealing with all the shit he was bound to get from just about everyone, just because of the way he looked and talked. Like Wade himself had done just hours ago. But in the short time since then, he’d already proven himself in a crisis. “So why are you really out here?”
“Why do you care?” Wade could hear the tightness in Nolan’s voice. “Why did you choose Ozark?”
Wade leaned against the comm panel. “It’s where I belong. Some people made a promise decades ago to make America great again, but we all know how that turned out. That spirit is still alive and well at Ozark.”
“‘Great again,’ really? What’s so great about Ozark? That’s certainly not why I chose it.”
“It’s not for everyone, that’s for sure. Yeah, we came out here to find some fancy rocks and get rich, but we also wanted to get the hell away from Earth’s socialist nonsense and get back to basics. Where you are what you make of yourself. It’s not too late to turn around, you know. You can just stay on the shuttle and ride it back.”
“I know what it’s like out there. That’s why I chose it, but not because it’s great.” Nolan made air quotes with his fingers.
“Can’t wait to hear this.”
“I know you’ll call me naive, but I think I can change a mind or two out there. I grew up on classic science fiction like Star Trek.” He touched a finger to the tattoo on his face: a hand with the palm forward and thumb extended, fingers parted between the middle and ring fingers in a V shape. “You probably don’t remember that old show. All these tales of a future where we leave our shit behind on Earth, and everyone gets along in space. I’m not stupid. I know it’s not really like that out here, especially at Ozark. But maybe it can be, you know?”
A solid, high-pitched tone suddenly sounded from the comm panel. Wade leaned over and tapped the red icon flashing on the screen. Nolan joined him. “What is it?” Nolan asked.
Wade read off the screen. “Maneuvering thruster B offline. Current course will lead to a collision with 1036 Ganymed in sixty-eight minutes. Goddamn, we can’t catch a break. I’ll try raising Maya Control again. Maybe they can pilot us out of this mess.”
“Don’t bother.” Nolan had arranged multiple feeds on the video screen and pointed to one of them, showing the starboard maneuvering thruster. Black scoring had left a gash on the metal hull, and the thruster was bent inward. “This is mechanical. One of the meteoroids must have grazed us.”
Wade’s gut tightened. “So what are we supposed to do? I’m not a pilot. Are you?”
“Doesn’t matter. Without the thruster, no one can steer this beast, remotely or locally. We gotta go outside.”
“An EVA? I’m not qualified for that. The only spacewalking I do is with feet firmly planted on space rocks.”
“I’ve done a couple of EVAs. I’ll do it.” His words were brave, but his eyes told a different story. Extravehicular activity under controlled training conditions was a lot different from doing it at top speed in deep space.
“You’re a greenhorn. I’ll do it.” Wade’s words didn’t match how he felt either.
Nolan was already putting on his spacesuit. “You’re greener than me if you’ve never done an EVA. Put on your suit. This ship doesn’t have an air lock, so we’re going to have to vent the air again.”
A short time later, the two of them stood in front of the hatch where, just hours before, they’d come aboard as passengers on a routine flight. Several tools dangled from Nolan’s spacesuit, and a nylon line attached to his suit connected to a D-ring on the bulkhead. Wade held the slack in his gloved hands. “You ready?”
“Ready or not, here I go.”
Wade could hear the tension in his voice even through the tinny speakers. He felt it too. He got to stay safely inside the ship, but his fate was tied up with Nolan’s. He undogged the hatch and pushed it open. Outside, there was only blackness, no indication of the high speed at which they were hurtling through space. He didn’t need to see Nolan’s eyes to know he was staring into the abyss. Wade gave him a nudge. “Keep your eyes on the hull. Don’t let yourself get distracted by all that nothingness.”
Nolan raised the magnetic suction cups in his hands and leaned out, pulling himself onto the hull one hand at a time. He quickly disappeared from view, and Wade wasn’t about to lean out to keep eyes on him. Instead, he turned to the video screen and used the exterior cameras to monitor Nolan’s progress, paying out the slack as he watched. Before long, Nolan reached the thruster.
“I don’t have a frame of reference for realigning this thing, so you’re gonna have to tell me when it looks good from there.” Nolan swapped a suction cup for a crowbar and began levering the bent thruster.
“Copy that.” Wade transferred the thruster diagnostic data from the comm station to the video screen. As Nolan worked at the thruster, he watched the status indicator change from red to orange to yellow. “Looking good. Almost there.”
Nolan let the crowbar dangle and grasped the thruster with one hand, giving it a hard yank.
Yes. Wade pumped his fist. “Okay, it’s in the green now. Neither of us are engineers, so that’s going to have to be good enough. Come on back.” Returning to the open hatch, he gathered up the slack again as Nolan worked his way back. Wade didn’t realize he was holding his breath until Nolan swung back into the ship.
Hatch dogged down again, Wade pressurized the cabin and pulled off his helmet. He raised his hands and slapped them against Nolan’s in celebration.
#
With the maneuvering thruster repaired, Maya Control had resumed remote piloting. Wade filled two bottles of beer from the refreshment dispenser and handed one to Nolan. “Cheers to a job well done.” He tapped his bottle against Nolan’s and sat down next to him.
“You know, it’s true what I said. At Ozark, your character comes out in your actions. We don’t believe in any of that identity shit, ‘I’m a fill-in-the-blank American’ or ‘my preferred pronouns are blah-blah-blah’.”
“I get it, Wade. You don’t need to keep telling me. I’m not expecting a warm welcome.”
“No, let me finish. You saved our butts today. Hell, if you weren’t onboard, I’d be an extra large frozen pizza on the surface. Thank you.” He put a hand on Nolan’s shoulder. “What I’m trying to tell you is, we’re lucky to have you. And anyone like you.”
Nolan turned away, but Wade was pretty sure he saw a smile on his face.
“So how the hell did you wash out of the space program? From what I’ve seen in less than a day, you’d make a hell of an astronaut.”
Nolan fidgeted with his earring, looking down at the deck. “You may think Earth is a hotbed of progressives, but there’s still plenty of progress to be made. Even in the Earth Space Agency.”
“Their loss, our gain.”
#
The rest of their trip continued without any problems more dire than an annoying vibration when the starboard maneuvering thruster kicked in on final approach. A dead pilot, hull breach, and unplanned EVA were enough for one trip. Wade watched the asteroid and its collection of connected habitats grow larger in the window. He felt the warm glow of homecoming, something he no longer felt when he returned to Earth. Looking over at Nolan, he wondered whether the kid would come to consider Ozark home.
When they’d docked with the main habitat, Wade opened the shuttle’s hatch. With a rush of air, the familiar aroma of stale laundry and machine oil greeted him. He stepped into Ozark’s arrival foyer, a glorified airlock with another open hatch at the far end. Behind him, Nolan exited the shuttle, eyes wide.
A dark-haired man slouched by the inner hatch, the stubble on his face complementing his stained coveralls. “So? Did you bring me back that bourbon?” He grinned at Wade with yellow teeth.
“Hello to you too, Jamison.”
Nolan stepped forward. The harsh overhead lights sparkled on his earring, drawing Jamison’s attention. The man’s gaze shifted to the tattoo below Nolan’s eye, and he gave Nolan a once-over, then a twice-over.
Wade recognized the judgment blossoming in the man’s eyes—it was the same look he’d given Nolan when they met on Maya Station.
Jamison puffed out his chest and stepped between Nolan and the inner hatch. “I’m not sure how you landed an assignment here at Ozark, but people like you—”
Wade held up a hand to interrupt him. “He belongs here, Jamison.” He put an arm around Nolan’s shoulders and ushered him past Jamison and into Ozark. “He belongs.”
THE END
Mike Strickland is an award-winning speculative fiction author whose work has appeared or is forthcoming in the bestselling anthology Writers of the Future Volume 42, Cast of Wonders, Cosmic Daffodil, and elsewhere. He lives in Colorado and writes about the writing craft at www.strick.land.
