“Depressurisation Complete.” The computer finishes, the chirpy voice almost comical considering I am one small step from death, and the cold embrace of space.
“They know what they’re doing. Matze is coming.” I repeat as a mantra to myself. “Everything is okay.”
It doesn’t feel okay. Tears would be tracking down my cheeks if I had any moisture in my body to spare. My stomach churns. Acid burns up my throat, threatening escape.
Thuds vibrate through the metal of the door. They’re coming from the hallway outside, growing nearer until a suit is at the door. White paddedarms tapping at the console. The door clicks. The internal magnetic lock mechanism slides open. I wait with bated breath as the hatch swings open.
“Alex?”
“Here,” I call out, grabbing one side of the makeshift stretcher Chelenko is wrapped up in. His skin appears disturbingly teal against the white of my spacesuit’s glove. The rest of him is pale and washed out by the green emergency lighting.
Matthias crouches down, checking the oxygen mask over Chelenko’s face. He follows the tubing down to his pocket and attaches a canister to the end, placing the oxygen tank beside Chelenko.
He takes a sudden deep inhale. A little warmth returns to his cheeks as he continues to breathe. His chest rises and falls evenly as if asleep.
His extremities, however, are quickly purpling. His fingertips appear almost black. Necrotic.
Matthias turns to me.
“You came.”
“I promised I would.”
He gives my arm a squeeze before he bends to grab the other end of Chelenko’s bundled form, removing the velcro holding it in place.
The whole thing lifts, floating a few inches off the metal wall. He is starting to look more purple. Blue veins trace across his skin. Blisters form along his bare armsand exposed chest. I tuck his arms within the fabric, hoping it has a medical benefit instead of simply visually reassuring me.
We drag him out into the hall. No screams of pain this time. I’m not sure if the silence is better.
Matthias releases his side of the make-shift stretcher a few steps past the threshold. He bolts back to the hatch, tapping at the console to reseal the lab door.
The hatch moves. Painfully. Slowly. Sliding back into place with a firm clank.
We wait for the tell-tale metallic clunk as the magnetic locks engage.
The silence stretches between us, nothing but my deep breaths and a machine hum.
Click.
“Pesquet, now,” Matthias shouts.
“Repressurisation commencing.” The computer chirps.
The suit starts to feel heavier again.
I look over to see Matze holding Chelenko, pushing him closer to the end of the corridor. The hatch opening there is now firmly closed.
“Atmosphere secure.”
The hatch ahead is thrust open.
Doctor Hadfield rushes forward, soaring. She lands beside Chelenko, med-kit in tow. Herhands glide over him, searching. She chews on her bottom lip when she reaches the wire cutters.
“Stretcher.” She calls over her shoulder as she rummages through the med-kit. Pulls out a syringe. She taps her comms, “1mg adrenaline injected at 0947.” She stabs it into his chest, dropping the spent syringe. It floats. She starts chest compressions.
She adjusts herself, tucking her feet under the handlebars to steady herself as she looms straight down over him. She pauses, leaning down to breathe into his mouth.
“One, two, three…” She counts. Pushing her feet against the metal walls to plunge down on his chest. “...four, five, six.”
