Andrew Morgan - Vessel

Sean’s stare remained unbroken. ‘I think I can trust you, and you can certainly trust me. We both have our reasons, and as long as those reasons point towards the same end game, we can work together.’

Lev nodded in agreement. Sean had given him no other choice. He leaned back, breaking the intense stare. ‘I need to find a hotel. Know any good ones?’

Lev paused for a moment, as if deciding if he liked Sean or not. His hard expression broke into a smile. ‘There’s the Novotel. It’s just across the street.’

It was a short walk to the Novotel through the late afternoon rain. Before long, Sean, key card in hand, opened the door to his modest room. He gestured for Lev to sit down at the table by the floor-to-ceiling window and then jumped on the bed, which sagged and bounced. ‘Some habits die hard,’ he said, grinning at a bemused Lev.

He leaned over to his duffel bag, retrieving a notepad that was already half-filled with notes from his investigation so far.

‘You won’t be putting my name down, right?’ Lev asked, looking concerned.

‘Of course not.’

‘Okay. Good.’

Sean shuffled the pillows around, getting himself comfortable. ‘We can talk a little more openly now we’re out of earshot,’ he said. He thumped the pillow behind his back. ‘God, why are hotel pillows always so damn thin?’

Lev didn’t say anything.

‘Right then,’ Sean continued. ‘I might as well ask the big one: can you confirm the presence of an alien object in orbit around Earth?’

Lev stiffened. ‘I can’t answer that.’

Of course not. It probably wasn’t in his nature to give away state secrets to men he’d just met. ‘I thought you wouldn’t. Still, no harm in asking.’

Lev appeared to relax. ‘If I told you that information,’ he said, ‘it would be obvious that I was the source. And I don’t want that.’

‘That’s fair enough. What can you tell me about John Bales then?’

‘I don’t know anything about John Bales.’

Sean didn’t believe him. They way he sat so awkwardly made it clear he was lying. Sean made a mental note to press him on it, but not right now. He needed to earn his trust first. ‘What about Robert Gardner? He’s definitely NASA, trained by NASA, but beyond his last mission into space — TMA Eight — his files are blank. Well, there’s some hokum about a deep-space exploration program in Europe that he supposedly consulted on, but I don’t see any training records or mission prep logs or anything prior to the launch today. Not even a ticket for the simulator — nothing. Besides, no one goes to space after a break that long, with or without training.’

Lev was nodding as though he knew something. ‘TMA Eight.’

‘Tell me about TMA Eight,’ Sean said, pen poised ready.

‘Gardner was the commander. It was a routine mission, nothing exciting. Well, it shouldn’t have been.’

‘What happened? The files don’t show anything out of the ordinary.’

Lev looked as though he was digging up memories he’d rather forget.

‘There was a big cover-up. Budgets were being cut hard and the last thing the Russian space program needed was a disaster. I was CAPCOM at the time and I was sworn to secrecy. The whole team was.’

Sean was scrawling at lightening pace. ‘Does anyone outside of the TMA Eight mission crew know what happened?’

‘No. Just me. Bales too, most likely.’

‘So why was there a cover-up?’

‘Gardner panicked. Despite a clean psyche evaluation, he lost control of himself on the flight back from the station. He nearly ended three lives on that day, but he was lucky enough to have a crew who reacted in time to save them all. Why he’s back in space, I don’t know. He was chosen by Bales, not by us.’

‘So what exactly did Gardner do wrong?’

Lev folded his arms, shaking his head as he recalled the memory.

‘He said he found god.’

‘Why are they taking so long?’ Sally said, pressed up tight against the capsule wall. The pressure gauge on the wall was in the orange zone, flitting just outside the red. It was horrible to watch the needle dip in and out like that.

‘They’re thinking of something, don’t worry,’ Gardner replied, his own voice small. Between breaths, it was very quiet in there.

‘What if there’s no way to get in, then what?’

‘There’s always a way.’

They both waited for the inevitable hiss of the radio, for the delivery of a message that hung in the balance between good and bad, life and death. When it came, it made Sally jump, her hands grasping at her chest.

‘Progress M Eighteen M, TsUP. Prepare to receive instructions.’

‘TsUP, Progress ready to receive instructions — go,’ Gardner replied.

‘Progress M Eighteen M, you will not be able to access MRM One, repeat, you will not be able to access MRM One.’

Although Sally didn’t know for sure that the thick, curved hatch that stood between them and the station was MRM One, she was pretty certain it was, and a heavy ball of nausea grew in her stomach, micro gravity letting it slop and bounce against her insides. They were so close, yet so far.

‘You must leave Progress and negotiate the station externally, re-entering via Quest.’

Sally guessed judging by the ashen colour Gardner’s face had taken that this was bad.

‘An — an EVA? To Quest?’ Gardner stammered, radio protocol forgotten.

‘Copy, Progress, we want you to perform an EVA to the Quest module.’

Gardner didn’t say anything, just licked his lips. Aleks continued.

‘Use the handholds along the station to make your way to Quest. You wont be able to clip on, but with careful negotiation, the risk of detachment should be minimal.’

Gardner tried to scratch his head, his hand banging against his visor. He looked at it, surprised. He seemed to have lapsed into a stupor.

‘Gardner, are you there?’

He blinked, freeing himself from his dumbstruck gaze.

‘Er, yeah — yeah I’m here… what do we do once we reach Quest?’ he said. Sally realised that the pain in her chest was a result of her holding her breath and she puffed out, steaming her visor. The mist vanished in the same way her hope had. She watched Gardner, almost as if waiting for him to announce her death sentence.

‘Progress, once you’ve reached Quest you should be able to open the outer airlock externally. Enter, seal the outer airlock and flood the chamber. Then you will be safely on the station’s life support.’

‘But — doesn’t that assume that the inner airlock is closed? What if it’s not closed?’

Aleks’ voice seemed absent for a long time, but it could have been dreadful anticipation playing tricks with Sally’s mind.

‘That’s correct,’ Aleks said, ‘but with the recent solar storm, all the internal hatches will have been closed — including the Quest inner airlock. The station should still be in this state of protection as no orders have been given to stand down.’

‘Okay…’ was all Gardner seemed able to say.

‘Pressure inside the orbital module is at thirteen percent, and the oxygen in your suits is at ninety-four percent, so you have two hours and twelve minutes to make the EVA. Take your time, move slowly and carefully. Once you’ve left the range of the orbital module broadcast unit we will no longer have radio contact. Good luck.’

‘Thanks,’ Gardner said. And then Aleks was gone.

‘So what do we do now?’ Sally asked, although she knew full well what the answer would be. A small part of her still believed she’d misunderstood what was about to happen, and she clung to it even though she knew it was hopeless. Gardner’s eyes seemed to look through her rather than at her, as hollow and empty as the orbital module itself.