Andrew Morgan - Vessel

‘No I don’t,’ she chuckled, pushing him away.

‘You do,’ he said, laughing himself.

‘I don’t have a freckly nose…’

‘You do !’

Sally ripped a small mirror from its Velcro home and had a look. Sure enough, she had a smattering of freckles across her otherwise pale nose.

Mikhail raised an eyebrow and grinned. ‘See?’

Sally made a grumbling noise and returned the mirror to its pad. She must have got those working outside under the hot Californian sun a few months back. She’d been testing a deep space comms array she’d developed; the lab she was allocated was too small. That seemed a lifetime ago, and not usually having the time for vanity, she hadn’t even noticed the appearance of the freckles. She stuck her tongue out at Mikhail and laughed, despite trying to keep a straight face. He winked back in a, I told you so, kind of way.

‘You have freckles too,’ Sally said. ‘Dark ones.’

‘I know I do.’

‘I like them.’

‘And I like yours. They suit you.’

‘They don’t,’ Sally said, covering her nose. ‘They look silly. I’m too pale.’

Mikhail took her wrist in a light grip and pulled her hand from her nose. She let him, the micro gravity pulling them closer together.

‘They look beautiful,’ he whispered.

His voice washed through Sally, a torrent of healing emotional warmth that cleansed her soul, filtering out all the hurt and pain she’d stored up over the years with its purity. For such a long time she’d avoided proper human contact, burying herself deep in her work, and it made her sad, regretful of the time she’d lost out in feeling such an unadulterated joy as the one she felt with Mikhail. In a strange way it also made her think of her parents, and for the first time in a long while, she missed them. She longed to be with Mikhail forever, to go to a place beyond the Earth that had left her cold and empty, to find a new level of emotional peace she was sure he knew of. If he left her behind, she would have to face the worst kind of pain all over again.

‘I want you to take me with you,’ she said, looking deep into his dark eyes.

He looked down, searching. ‘I can’t.’

Sally moved her head to lock their eyes together again, pulling his gaze back to her. ‘But why? Why can’t we both go there and be happy together? There’s nothing for us here.’

‘I wish I could, I really do. But the time isn’t right. Maybe it will be one day, but there’s something you have to do first.’

The laughter was gone. Mikhail’s words were sombre. Sally took his hands and held them to her chest.

‘What is it? What do I have to do to be with you? I’ll do anything it takes — anything .’

Sally knew as the words came out of her mouth that she meant it. Her mind was constantly evolving, hunting for knowledge, and she’d learned to keep her eyes forward and focussed on the next stepping-stone, because her past had no home for her. And now, looking into Mikhail’s eyes, into the reflection of her future, she could not bear the thought of returning to a life she’d outgrown. But as much as she knew what she wanted, she also knew what Mikhail was going to tell her.

‘When the time is right, you’ll know,’ he said.

‘Tell me now!’ Sally shouted, gripping Mikhail’s hands harder. She was shocked to hear the panic in her own voice, and realised that her chest was light with breathlessness. Mikhail pulled away, massaging the backs of his hands. Deep nail marks were visible in his skin, and Sally gasped when she saw them.

‘Oh my god, I’m sorry,’ she said, reaching out to help him, but he retracted from her.

‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘I understand your frustration. But I’m not what you need; I can’t be. You need another. A more perfect being, someone you can love from here to eternity.’

What Sally was hearing numbed her mind, and everything felt distant. ‘I want that to be you,’ she whispered.

Mikhail shook his head. ‘It can’t be. I’m just a very small part in a very big world. You are a big part. He is a big part. Together you will change the world.’

Sally had nothing left to say. She could see that Mikhail was pushing her away, not just physically, but emotionally, detaching himself from her and leaving her alone once again. Where her voice fell silent, her tears cried out, and they flowed from her and clouded her vision. Through the blurry haze, Mikhail had just two more words for her: ‘I’m sorry.’

With that, he bucked, clutching his head and screamed an ear-splitting scream that cut through Sally like a blade. Wiping her eyes, she pushed forwards to help him, but he thrashed so violently that he threw her back against the wall, knocking her head against something hard. Dazed, she swam on the boundary of consciousness, her fading sight catching the dying convulsions of the man she loved.

‘Soyuz TMA Eleven M, TsUP. First stage of docking underway, please confirm range of three zero zero zero metres,’ came the voice of CAPCOM over the radio.

‘Three zero zero zero metres confirmed, TsUP, first stage of docking underway,’ Major Sam Taylor responded.

‘Switching to docking camera,’ Captain Tim Wilson — sat to Taylor’s right — added. Using a small, metal rod, he stretched from his harnessed position to prod the relevant button.

‘Copy, Soyuz. Approach looks good.’

"I’ll get the car,’ Banin said, setting off at a sprint.

‘No! Wait!’ Aleks yelled after him. ‘You’ll never fit it through that gap!’

Banin slowed to a stop, looking back at the fence. ‘I was going to ram it,’ he said, panting.

‘Those posts look concreted in pretty deep.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Positive.’

Aleks didn’t understand how Banin couldn’t see it, but to him it was obvious that the posts would have made mincemeat of Banin’s old relic, even with Banin and his intense driving style at the wheel.

‘Shit,’ Banin groaned, wandering back, chest still rising and falling. ‘Then we’ve got some running to do.’

Each stride over the field took Aleks another step closer to what felt like a certain heart attack, his aging organs pushing and pulling and squeezing inside him as he did his best to keep up his momentum. As he climbed the first hill of two between them and the barn, occasionally looking down to check they were still following the tyre tracks, he could do nothing but fight the urge to stop, to catch his breath, to lay down on the floor, go to sleep and never wake again.

At the top of the hill, they both slowed, Banin’s fitness as malnourished as Aleks’ own. Hands on hips, cold air scorching his throat, Aleks looked down over the next hill at the barn; it seemed closer, but not as much as he’d hoped. From this vantage point, however, he could see further into the crack where the barn was nestled, revealing the source of the tracks and the engine noise: a quad bike. Breathless, he pointed, and Banin nodded.

‘I see it,’ he wheezed.

For a moment, the sight spurred Aleks on, and he waved Banin to follow, who did so with obvious reluctance. The regret was immediate: his chest tightened and his lungs burned as he dragged air into them in long, ragged gasps, but he pushed on — they both did. Through sweat and tears he stomped down the other side of the hill and began the ascent of the next, digging his heels into the muddy-green scrub underfoot.

This time they didn’t stop until they reached the low fence that surrounded the barn. After pushing so hard, stopping was a whole new agony. As Aleks had run, the cool breeze had kept him from cooking in his own heat, but now, stationary, his body temperature rose, his sticky shirt preventing it from escaping. He retched, blood rushing to his dizzy head, and he grasped the fence for balance so he could recompose himself.