How I Got Here: "The Deep"
27 Feb 2023Columbuss
Commander Justin Estok. Stardate 27-FEB-3309."Standby..."
When you're on a space jump in The Black, everything moves in slow motion. Of course, the concept of "speed" out here, it's all relative to you. Whether you're trying to shift from one spot to another, or trying to repair some exterior damage to your ship, it always feels like you're trying to move while underwater. The difference being, that underwater, it's the pressure from the water itself that's providing resistance. In The Black, there is no resistance. There's no gravity. There's no friction with a gravity providing surface to slow things down. So you move with a significant level of care. In The Black, things move slow because moving too fast can be dangerous. Every movement, every thought, every action must be carefully calculated and planned so no mistakes are made. Move too fast in your kitchen and you might break a bowl. Move too fast out here, and you might find yourself floating away with nothing to stop you.
Looking down toward my feet, the headlamps of The Chelsie Grin slowly shrink away into the distance. From out here, the beams have dissipated and the lamps just look like two more stars, laid out behind the back drop of rock and debris floating between us. Reaching behind me, I grab onto the umbilical, giving it another yank to ensure it's secure. Meter after meter of umbilical unravels from its housing inside the Chelsie's hull as I drift further and further away. Turning my head back to the direction I'm heading, I analyze the digital's in the face mask glass, watching as it counts down the distance to my destination.
Inside the Maverick suit, the only sounds are my deep, anxious breaths and the hissing noise of my ventilator expelling CO2 through the top of the helmet. For a moment, I close my eyes and hold my breath. The blissful absence of sound in The Black is somehow MORE quiet than absolute silence itself. Out here, there's nothing. It's a vacuum. It's a incomprehensibly vast, infinite sea of dead space, completely devoid of any molecules that can relay sound. The only way sound can manifest itself is when it finds molecules to work through, like the ones making up the hard exoskeleton hugging onto your body. Out here, all sound is second hand. Out here, The Black, it speaks through your suit.
"Boss, I'm looking at your vitals," Brandson says through the headset speaker. "You're showing an elevated heart rate. Think we can get you to calm down just a little bit?"
"Kid, I'm floating through space in a sea of razor sharp rock. How about you give me a break?" I reply.
"Maybe I should have made this jump," he says, in a way that makes me think he means more than what was said.
"I've watched you struggle with Chelsie's coffee machine kid. Just focus on keeping my ship steady. I'm almost there."
Narrowing the Remlok helmet's head lamps, two parallel beams of light illuminate the split open hull of a ship, tumbling haphazardly, directly out in front. Using the wrist controls, I fire the Maverick suit's built in RCS thrusters, slowing myself down, before reaching out and grabbing hold of an exposed piece of twisted pipe. I hold on as my body continues to move, the momentum pulling down on my hands until, finally, everything stops. Glancing over the hull, the beams from my headlamps roll across the words Cold Nova written in bold, red print on the side. Looking back down at the umbilical, it's beginning to curve as the Cold Nova continues tumbling. Erratically rolling and spinning, the byproduct of a sudden shut down. Reaching behind, I detach the umbilical chord from the Maverick suit and secure it to an exterior clamp on the hull.
"Kid," I say into the comm. "I've made contact with the Cold Nova. Umbilical is attached to the hull. Reel it in slowly. That should stop her from tumbling."
"Roger," Brandson says. Looking down I can see the umbilical lose its slack and start to tighten. There's a slight, but sudden, jolt as The Cold Nova stops against the pull of the other ship.
"Alright kid," I say. "I think you got it. She's starting to steady herself. I'm going in. Standby."
Pulling my way across the damaged hull, I grasp at whatever pieces of shredded steel and exposed bulkhead I can find, pulling myself along toward the nearest opening. Peering inside, the headlamps from my suit light up what used to be the Eagle's small galley. The small crew table and built in booth is gone. Pulverized by whatever weapon tore the hull open and spread the insides throughout the cabin, just pieces of unidentifiable debris floating around in the vacuum of space and bouncing off of the few in tact walls that remained. Pushing myself in, through the jagged hole in the hull, I push off the wall with my boot, angling myself toward the intact cockpit door. Reaching out, I place my hand against the door, using it to steady myself before placing my boots down and magnetizing them to the floor in two hard "clanks".
"I'm at the cockpit door kid. There's no power. I'm going to have to pry it open."
Activating the built in tool inventory, I pull out a steel pry bar, wedging it between the sliding doors and pulling. The doors rattle and creak, reverberating down the pry bar handle and through the suit. As the doors push open, I'm met with the same zero-g that I found in the cabin. Peering through the crack I'd made, I shine the head lamps into the cockpit. The canopy is shattered, completely exposing the inside to the vacuum of space. All of the instruments are turned off. The console to the left of the pilots chair is smashed. The screens and instruments crushed and showing clear punctures from whatever weapons burst through the canopy. Looking down to the pilot's chair, a helmet can be seen, just over the top.
I wedge myself between the doors, using my legs and body to force the door open enough for me to get myself through, before suctioning my way to the pilots chair. Turning it around, I find Finn, still strapped to the seat.
"Kid!" I yell into the comm. "It's Finn! I got him!"
"Is he alive?!" Brandson yells back.
"Standby." Reaching down to Finn's unconscious wrist, I activate his suit's built in computer, pulling up his vitals which project themselves out in the space between us.
"He's alive!" I relay back. "But barely. His vitals are low. His suit's gone into emergency hibernation. Oxygen levels are extremely low. He's got maybe, another few minutes on life support."
"Can you get him back in time?!" Brandson asks.
"Not like this." I reply. "Standby kid."
I unstrap him from the pilots seat and turn him over. Reaching behind me, I pull the emergency O2 line from my suit, pulling it forward and attaching it to his refill nozzle. Toggling the suit controls on my wrist, I begin transferring some of the oxygen in my tank to Finn's. Once his tank reads a quarter full, I unhook the line and feed it back into my suit, before pulling Finn up until he's in my grasp. Slowly, I start backing out of the cockpit before toggling the comm's once again.
"Kid," I say. “We’re heading back for the umbilical now. O2 looks good. Gave him some of mine. Standby to reel us in."
"Make it quick boss," he says. "It's getting dicey out there. Looks like an asteroid collision nearby. It's making things..."
Before Brandson can finish, I feel the momentum of the Cold Nova shift. Up through my boots, a loud metallic smash rings through the suit. I pull Finn's floating body back toward me, eyeing the exposed canopy as bits of rock whizz past. The galaxy outside begins to spin as a chunk of rock collides with the Eagle's nose, splitting it into a million, tiny fragments. All of them, silent but violently, spinning off into the void. The floor jolts upward, then suddenly back down again as The Chelsie pulls back on the tumbling vessel, using the umbilical to keep the ship level. Inside, Finn and I are like stones, rattling around inside a shaken bucket. I hold Finn's weightless body against mine, careful not to let go, as we smash back and forth against the interior of the dead Eagle. I reach out, frantically grasping for anything I can use to steady our bodies. The Eagle jolts again, levelling a bit as the Chelsie pulls back on it's tumbling frame.
Once through the cockpit door, I turn our bodies toward the hole in the side of the ship, pulling us toward it, letting go of the bulkhead as we float. In a dead silent flash, the holes rips open as a chunk of rock crashes through it like a bullet through an empty beer can. The Eagle spins violently, smashing Finn and myself against the ceiling, before jolting back level again, slamming us back down onto the floor. Looking up toward the gaping wound in the ships side, the umbilical slips away, unattached from the hurtling wreckage. Grabbing ahold of Finn with one hand, I reach down and activate the suits forward RCS thrusters with the other. The propulsion shoots Finn and I out through the hole and into the maelstrom of razor sharp rock. Reaching out, with nothing short of a miracle, I grab onto the detached umbilical.
"Kid!" I yell into the comm. "We're out! Reel us in! Now!"
"Roger that!" Brandson yells back. "Hold on!"
I grip the umbilical tight as the force of The Chelsie reeling us in reverberates down my arm. Glancing back, I watch as the Cold Nova shrinks in the distance before waves of stone and metal collide with the hull, turning it into a shredded, tumbling mess of steel and flames.