Temi Oh - Do You Dream of Terra-Two?

Poppy handed the microphone to Harry first. ‘So,’ she began, ‘Harrison Bellgrave. As one of the youngest people in space, at the start of this historic mission can you tell the viewers back on Earth how you’re feeling?’ Harry smiled at his own reflection in the lens, his pupils big and dark as singularities. Although, even as he felt it, it was fading from him. That familiar feeling of pride at his accomplishment. The golden shards of sunlight on the arm of the trophy as it was handed to him, the familiar weight of it. The evanescent thrill of victory. He enjoyed the game because he always won. The sound of the crowd, of a million hands clapping just for him, swift and vanishing as a roll of thunder, and what came after this? More years of striving? For what? What now?

Harry smiled anyway.

‘Tonight, I feel like… an astronaut.’

13.05.12

THE SOUND OF THE siren knifed into his sleep, and Jesse awoke shivering with a primitive kind of fear. He tumbled into an awareness of his surroundings. It was his first night on the ship, and he was in danger.

His time at Dalton had conditioned him into a Pavlovian response to the master alarm – stop whatever you are doing. Get up. Find the nearest exit. So that is what he did. He shimmied down his bunk and landed on the floor in time for Harry to flip on the lights.

‘Do you think it’s a fire?’ Harry asked, his eyes wide with terror.

Eliot squinted from his bunk. ‘What?’ he croaked, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

‘Maybe a meteor?’ Jesse said. He pictured a flying rock searing a hole through the hull of their ship, and then rapid decompression as the oxygen poured out. His back prickled with goosebumps.

‘Let’s go,’ Harry said, flinging the door open, and they dashed out into the darkened crew module where Poppy and Astrid were already gathered, blinking in their pyjamas, their faces illuminated by warning lights.

‘Maybe it’s a drill,’ Poppy said.

‘On the first night?’ said Jesse.

‘Drill or not, let’s just do what we’re supposed to.’ Harry fumbled for the hatch. Jesse cast his mind back to training, where they’d slide down the ladder so fast they sustained friction burns, bare feet smacking the lower deck. Then, they were expected to strap themselves into an escape vessel and contact the ground for recommendations.

But, just as they were about to head down the ladder, Igor’s voice boomed through the speakers. ‘ Solar storm. This is not a drill. ’ Jesse heard the words with a stab of terror. ‘ You have six minutes to get to the shelter. ’

The blood drained from Harry’s face. ‘Okay,’ he said, catching himself. ‘This way.’ The corridors were blazing the fire-engine red of the warning lights in the ceiling. Harry led them back along the corridor and Jesse was at his heels as they sprinted across the bridge that led to the greenhouse. The gravity was lighter here, in the centre of the ship, and Jesse felt it in his knees as he raced to the radiation shelter at the far end in high, flying bounds.

Harry twisted the lock and the door slid open, revealing a room only slightly larger than the infirmary, with high shelves stacked with medical supplies and tinned food. Jesse couldn’t help but think of civilians in the Second World War ducking inside Anderson shelters to wait out an attack. He sank down, exhaling in relief.

Radiation from a solar flare was the silent killer in space. Every now and then flaming whips of plasma exploded from the sun’s magnetic field and sent deadly showers of high-energy particles through the blackness of space. Earth was protected from most of the impact but, outside its atmosphere, Jesse and his fellow crew members were as vulnerable as a raft in a storm.

They were safe inside the reinforced shelter, but outside the alarm was still bawling. If it hadn’t been for the alarm, Jesse would have slept while showers of high-energy particles ghosted through his body. Most of them would have slipped right through but a couple would shred his DNA. Best-case scenario: he would not feel the damage until years later when cancer bloomed in his bones. The worst-case scenario involved vomiting, diarrhoea and hair loss, then death within a few days or weeks. During the early years of Disaster Training, they had been taught to fear solar storms. Unlike an explosion or a collision, this was a disaster they could not see. So , their instructor had said, see this instead. He’d shown them pictures of nuclear accidents, Chernobyl victims, children blistered and bald, black and white photos of flash burns and ulcerated skin. If you see nothing when you hear the alarm , he had said, remember this.

‘Lock the door,’ said Igor. ‘We’re looking at an X-3 solar flare.’

‘Right now?’ Astrid was wrapped in a towel, her hair still dripping soapy water onto her shoulders from a late-night shower.

‘The ground gave us a bit of warning,’ Igor said. He clapped his hands to hurry them up, but they were already in a line by their bunks, and shouting their numbers.

‘One,’ said Harry.

‘Two,’ said Astrid.

‘Three,’ said Eliot, who, like Harry, had had no time to change out of the running shorts he’d fallen asleep in. They both stood near the door, their forearms covered in gooseflesh.

‘Four,’ Poppy said.

Jesse watched them in confusion, unsure where in the line he was supposed to stand, and all the while watching the Geiger counter on the wall tick up and up. There was a moment of silence and everyone looked around in alarm.

‘Five?’ Jesse said, guessing that perhaps this was his turn to speak.

‘Where’s Juno?’ Poppy asked, ignoring him.

‘She wasn’t in our room,’ Astrid said.

‘I didn’t see her,’ Jesse said, recalling that he had not spotted the second twin racing through the corridors behind the others.

‘Oh no,’ Astrid gasped in horror, ‘she must be outside .’

‘You can’t go out there.’ Jesse motioned towards the door as if to block it.

‘She’s my sister.’ Astrid lunged at him.

‘Well, she has five minutes,’ Igor said, looking at his watch. Once the shelter sealed she would be trapped outside.

‘Five minutes?’ Jesse echoed, looking around at the pale faces of the crew. He pictured Juno as she had looked only a few hours ago, unconscious in the infirmary, quiet and helpless. He imagined her panic, being trapped outside the shelter, alone, and his heart jolted.

‘I’ll get her,’ Harry said, pushing Jesse aside.

‘It’s against protocol,’ Commander Sheppard said. ‘It’s too dangerous.’

‘You won’t have time to get back,’ Eliot said, looking at his watch.

‘We can’t just leave her!’ Astrid was frantic, her face streaked with tears. ‘Go! Please!’

After her panicked imploration, Jesse heard himself say, ‘I’ll go.’ If there was one thing he had always been good at, it was running. So he dashed out the door, glancing at the figures on his watch.

‘Get back.’ Harry was gaining speed behind him. ‘We don’t need you getting in the way right now.’

‘You take the upper deck,’ Jesse yelled without slowing, as he dashed barefoot across the greenhouse, ‘I’ll go down.’

Jesse lunged through the hatch and onto the lower deck, landing so hard that the bones in his shins rattled, before running past the rooms in which she was unlikely to be hiding; the cargo bay and the equipment locker. The sound of the alarm squealing bored into his temples like a drill, and Jesse gritted his teeth in irritation. He wondered how it was possible for Juno to ignore such a racket. And then it occurred to him that wherever Juno was, she probably couldn’t hear the alarm. ‘Where?’ he said out loud over the noise.