“This is Selenium?” Charlotte asked her husband Thomas as he wheeled a stainless steel cart into the mineral lab covered in a loose array of black, metallic gravel. “No way. This is something completely different than what early satellite photos suggested,” Thomas said. Charlotte, Thomas, and their partner Mark were the crew of the UNSS Piora, a relatively small vessel used for interplanetary geology research. Thomas had just returned from the surface of a planet the size of Earth’s moon, simply labeled T-217. The T signified the Turel star system, their current frontier of research. This was the 217th lifeless orb of rock and mineral deposits that had been discovered.
Mark’s voice sprang to life over the intercom. “You guys should take a break and come down to the mess hall with me. We’ve got the sample, right?” “Yeah, but it’s not what we thought. Just let me get it classified, and we can all go home,” Charlotte answered. She wheeled the cart over to a mineral analyzer, which hung from the ceiling like a dentist’s light hangs over a chair.
A few minutes afterwards, the friendly female voice of the computer piped up as usual. “Contents unrecognized. New mineral characteristics logged into preset. Name this discovery?” Thomas looked at the dark, metallic stone as though it would bite. “I don’t know. I’ll let you name it honey.”
With this, Thomas walked out of the lab, an auto airlock sealing behind him as he removed his surface suit and cleaned up. While rinsing his boots in the chemical bath, he was interrupted by Charlotte’s voice over the intercom. “I’m going to try applying slight heat via the mineral laser. I have a feeling this will closely resemble HSe3 if it has a chemical reaction.” Thomas resumed his boot rinsing. HSe3 was one of the ten rarest mineral compounds in the known universe. He knew how Charlotte was always longing for some new discovery on these routine surveys. “Be careful honey. Selenium compounds can be unstable.” These were the last words Thomas had said to his wife over the intercom, as he turned to look through the observation window to where Charlotte was adjusting the straps of her safety goggles.
Thomas would not remember the brilliant blue vein of light usually accompanied by the mineral laser coming on, but he'd never forget the sound of the intercom system going offline forever; a deafening electrical snap. This was followed by a quiet explosion within the lab. It tore a hole the size of an elephant into the far wall of the lab, revealing the vacuous drain of space. Specifically, he’d remember Charlotte’s severed arm bouncing bloodily against the observation window before being sucked through the breach, along with everything else not bolted down in the lab, all with the speed of a pinball expertly flipped into a neon “1,000,000 Points” slot.
Sorrow was overcome with disbelief, and disbelief overwhelmed by adrenaline as Thomas sprinted down the alloy hallway of the Piora’s 2nd floor. He flew around the corner into the evac bay before asking the computer to do a damage analysis. His fears were confirmed by its reply. “Damage Analysis Complete. Hull breached in Level 2 Mineral Lab, Level 1 Dining Room. 7 Critical Functions offline including: O2 Generators offline. Carbon-Filtration offline. Intercom System offl…” Before it could finish, Thomas had already punched in the emergency lockdown code for the evac bay.
The airlock sealed behind him. As he heard the familiar whir of machinery and hiss of compression, Thomas became rigid. What about Mark? He wished to God he could contact him to see if he was still breathing. But the intercom was out, and Mark had definitely gone to the mess hall. That was directly below where the explosion had occurred. "He's floating out in space like so much debris and geology equipment now," Thomas thought. Suffocated, if not torn to shreds like Charlotte.
Thomas decided Mark, the only other person on board, was dead. The ship would be an airless, floating coffin inside the hour. He turned and ran into the EES 1-A, the ship’s lone method of escape. It was an eight-man pod that would automatically relay a distress signal to every ship in the Turel system the moment it broke away from the Piora. “Emergency launch sequence activated. Please allow 90 seconds for calibration and detachment.” The computer’s voice now reminded Thomas of Charlotte. He thought of his wife's body, floating away in space. He sat on the floor and held his forehead, safe enough for the moment to let the wave of grief from the past fifteen minutes catch him in its crushing scope. “Calibration complete. Beginning detachment sequence," the computer said. "Please remain in your seat with seatbelt attached as shuttle runs Auto mode.”
Seconds before launching into the darkness of the Turel system, the closest planet of known life some .2 light years away, Thomas looked up from his drooling fit of tears to see Mark slamming his arms against the airlock door. His screams were inaudible, and his face was pale and terrified.
© Jeff Turner, 06/18/2009