From bad, to worst
JC Demers
Inside her helmet, all Emma could hear was her breathing. It had taken a few seconds to steady itself, but it was now slow and calm. Space walks had never been something she had felt particularly strong about. She had only been out into the black, by her lonesome, twice. Once as a training exercise, and then to get her space certification badge. She hadn’t passed with flying colors, but she had done well.
Moving around in space reminded her of days spent at her father’s cabin. They’d wake up early, and while he cooked, Emma would go into the lake. She loved that lake. It made an ugly ball at the bottom of her stomach to think it was now, for all account, gone. Vaporized, with the rest of Earth. What did bother her was the incredible vastness of space. The endless black. The dead silence. Every time she blinked, she felt a millisecond of panic… like nothing would be there when she opened her eyes again.
Pulling herself along the ship, Emma did her best to keep her mind busy with her task. She had plenty to keep herself occupied with, and day dreaming wasn’t going to make her job any simpler. And so, like the good soldier she was, Emma pushed everything in the back of her head. She flipped that switched in the back of her mind, and stopped being human for some time. No more fear. No more worry. No more guilt.
Just a Marine; doing her job.
Every time she contacted the bridge with her status updates, all Major Foss could do was ask her why the job wasn’t completed yet. With every passing status update, she felt a fire grow inside her. Sure, the man was a Marine. Sure, the man was a Major. Sure, the man was the highest ranking officer aboard the ship. That didn’t change the fact all Emma wanted to do was punch his damn face in.
She had been out for roughly 45 minutes when she came to the outer hull of hangar bay 3. As she approached the spot, Emma could clearly see dozen of tiny scratches on the hull’s surface; scars from events she hadn’t been aware of. Unless it was damage from the comet… which was likely. Pulling her toolset from one of the pockets of her vac suit, she stuck them in place with their magnetic strips. Inside the tight suit, she could already feel herself sweating. Warm beads would roll down her forehead and along her face, making her wish she could wipe it off with her sleeve.
As she was about to set her pliers down, they slipped out of her hand, zero gravity momentum carrying them away from the ship. Without thinking, on pure instinct, she pushed herself forward, her left hand getting snagged on the ship.
Emma Pope’ day went from bad, to worst.
She didn’t see a flash of white light. Or a tunnel. Or cherished moments from her life. Nothing. For what felt like an eternity, there was nothing. Nothing at all. No pain. No fear. No joy. No anger.
And then, everything came rushing back.
It felt like God himself had just punched her in the guts.
It took Emma a few seconds to realize she was now spinning away from the ship. It took her a few more seconds to realize that the sound she was hearing was her own voice, screaming in pain.
Her voice activated radio link with the bridge made it abundantly clear something had gone wrong. All the space training Emma had been through was in an instant forgotten. Grunting in pain, with tears running down her face, she curled herself in ball, clutching her left hand. Her entire body was shaking uncontrollably.
Through the thick cloud of pain, she heard Major Foss’ voice.
“Staff Sergeant, Jorgensen is on his way. I need you to keep it together marine. We're going to need you to direct us to you”
Emma grunted in pain, her jaw clenched so tight her entire face felt like it was going to burst.
“Yes sir.” she managed, barely able to push the words out.
She forced her eyes opened. The explosion had put her in a spin, and with her now foetal position, telling where she was was a bit difficult. Every half second, all she could see where the stars, and then the Bellerophon’s hull would swing into view.
“Just… off…. Hangar bay 3…. ”
She shut her eyes again, trying to push the pain away… trying to remain conscious. Emma could already feel her entire body going into shock. She knew very well her left hand had been badly hurt. Her entire arm also, probably. The pain said clearly it was still there.
"I'm drifting..." she said after some time.
Suddenly, the pain started to slowly slip away as she became light headed, and cold. Terribly cold.
“I need to know if the package is intact.” Major Foss said after a few seconds of silence.
Emma’s lips trembled as she spoke, her moans of pain now almost a faint whisper.
“Negative, sir.”
She swallowed painfully, trying to piece together the broken events in her head.
“Package…. Package has cleared the hull….”
Opening her eyes back, Emma saw what looked like a stream of white smoke puff pass her. Her suit. Her suit was breached. She was venting air. Like a bucket of ice water thrown in her face, Emma became ware of just how dire the situation was. The cold. The shivering. The light headedness ... the pain subsiding a bit. She was loosing oxygen. She was passing out.
"Major... Sir... I'm venting O2.... I'll remain... I'll remain conscious as long as... I can.... sir"
Orr, Michael J
From: tdcg...@googlegroups.com [tdcg...@googlegroups.com] On Behalf Of JC Demers [deme...@gmail.com]
Sent: Monday, April 12, 2010 11:48 PM
To: tdcg...@googlegroups.com
Subject: From bad, to worst
Robert Bogdon
Major Foss: "Doc, I want someone in Hangar Bay 4 waiting for the Kobold when it returns."
---
Robert Bogdon
Sr. Systems Engineer, DivX
http://www.blah.net
Rev. Ryan A. Rush
“Confirmed.” Canada says, “Compton! Donovan! Come with me! We’ve got to get to Bay 4 to treat Pope! Cook, Fields, man the sickbay.” Carrying the automatic external defibrillator (AED), casualty bag, crash kit, medical supplies, medical database computer, and portable clinical analyzer, they make their way as quickly as possible to Bay 4.
Orr, Michael J
From: tdcg...@googlegroups.com [tdcg...@googlegroups.com] On Behalf Of Robert Bogdon [robert...@gmail.com]
Sent: Tuesday, April 13, 2010 12:12 AM
Orr, Michael J
From: tdcg...@googlegroups.com [tdcg...@googlegroups.com] On Behalf Of Orr, Michael J [mj...@indiana.edu]
Sent: Tuesday, April 13, 2010 12:19 AM
To: tdcg...@googlegroups.com
Subject: RE: From bad, to worst
JC Demers
Shielding her shredded hand as best as she could, Emma’s lips began to tremble as she spoke. However faint her voice was, her words came clear through the radio.
“ This is my rifle.”
“There are many like it, but this one is mine.”
“It is my life.”
“I must master it as I must master my life. Without me my rifle is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless.”
“I must fire my rifle true. I must shoot straighter than the enemy who is trying to kill me.”
“I must shoot him before he shoots me. I will.”
“My rifle and I know that what counts in war is not the rounds we fire, the noise of our burst, or the smoke we make.”
“We know that it is the hits that count. We will hit.”
“My rifle is human, even as I am human, because it is my life.”
“I will learn it as a brother. I will learn its weaknesses, its strengths, its parts, its accessories, its sights and its barrel.”
“I will keep my rifle clean and ready, even as I am clean and ready. We will become part of each other.”
“Before God I swear this creed.”
“My rifle and I are the defenders of my country. We are the masters of our enemy.”
Emma’s breath became laboured and shallow.
“We are… We are…”
She blinked slowly, feeling her eyes roll in the back of her head.
“We are the saviors of my life.”