Delays
She knew the danger, but she still dreamed of spacewalking. That was the image that played against the black of her inner eyelids as she waited to board the Sunward Sky. To dance in the void of space, careless and alone, a tiny speck in an endless universe.
That might make it all worth it.
An announcement had come through the crackling loudspeakers of the launch system a few minutes ago. An unscheduled delay has occurred on the outbound launch of the Sunward Sky, please remain in the terminal for boarding. So she’d waited, imagining weightlessness, and feeling the drag of the Earth’s bulk against her and her clothes in the spaceport. Soon enough her imagination gave way to her frustration, and she stood up, disconnected her hand tablet from the charging station, and walked along the terminal. The corridor was gunmetal grey, and dark glass faced toward the launch crater where she could see the ship waiting for her. She found a door that had been left slightly ajar and surrounded by signs in both mando and anglo with threats against trespass.
Never one to leave a curiosity unexplored, she glanced around furtively before ducking through the door. A thin, even layer of dust on the floor shifted as she walked down along the corridor. After a few metres, the walls around her disappeared and she found herself in an old annex fitted with layers upon layers of overlapping and abandoned technology.
It was like a museum that had been ransacked, cannibalised and refit to within an inch of its life. A kiosk in the corner with fading plastic countertops and broken fibreboard piled in the corner overflowed with ancient wiring. Alyssa thought it looked like an old terminal hub, the wires having once belonged to screens for self-service and purchasing until synth-chips and link payments had become the norm. As she rounded the corner, she saw one of the screens, shattered, abandoned and covered in grey dust. The faded signs above the kiosk only had old anglo instructions on them, which she couldn’t read. There had been something bolted to the floor. Several somethings, and there were old pictures of desert landscapes and groups of pointing people. They were outside, in direct sunlight and not wearing skinsuits or heavy parasols.
This place is old, Alyssa thought, it’s amazing that it still exists. Usually, any useful materials were ripped out for reuse and anachronistic buildings such as this terminal, whatever it was, were torn down for new construction. Alyssa suspected this place had only survived so long because of its proximity to the launch pad. Space Palsy wasn’t contagious, but people were superstitious; nobody came to launch sites unless they had to.
Except you, she said to herself.
The door behind her creaked open, and a man wheeled himself in, then stopped as he spotted her. He asked what she was doing here and she froze - the signs in the main terminal forbade her from being here, but surely that applied to him as well?
“I’m looking around. Same as you.” She couldn’t tell his age. The wheelchair was in bad repair, and looked too small for him. His skin had the marks of a man used to smiling, but a dull ember of something like anger hid beneath it, and he wore a pained frown. There was more grey in his hair than black.
He wheeled toward her. Had he stood up she got the impression he’d tower over her, with broad shoulders and limbs that stuck awkwardly from his mobility device. He listed to one side as he brought the chair to a halt, and several carabiners hanging from his coveralls clinked with the change in momentum.
“Aye,” he said, and the slight trace of an old Scottish brogue crept through, “I am having a look, just an explore. Sitting still in high-grav makes the old body seize up a bit.” Hide slapped the wheelchair and grinned - the tungsten carabiners clanked - and Alyssa relaxed an inch. He seemed safe enough.
She pointed at the carabiners, “You’re a mechanic or something?”
His laugh was gruff and gave way to a small fit of coughs before he was able to answer. “Started that way, but nothing came of it. No, I’m a medic. Ships doctor, or something like it. And you?”
A medic, she thought, that might come in handy. Though hopefully not. “I don’t know yet” she said, shrugging, “It’s my first time up.”
Just for a moment, she saw something in the older man’s eyes. A hardness. A flame still burning. A mote of fury that snatched a moment as his smile faltered, but then it was gone and he was talking again.
“Oh. Well. Probably gonna be my last,” he said, “And the Sunward Sky’s too, come to think of it. We’ve both been in rotation for a bit longer than what’s good for us.” As he said it, he thumped feebly on the floor with one boot. It clanked against the ground. “Name’s Healy,” he said, and offered a hand so pale it was almost see through. Alyssa felt, more than saw, the delicacy of the veins within as she shook it.
“Alyssa,” she said, then looked around the room, trying to find something to talk about with this stranger and failing. Healy, for his part, eyed the old Anglo signs, eyes darting back and forth. He can read Anglo? Alyssa thought, and tucked it into her memory. “You’ve never been in here before, then? Looks like nobody has in a while.” she kicked at the floor, sending up a puff of dust.
He shook his head “Don’t spend a lot of time dirtside these days, if I’m honest. Makes my feet a little woozy with all the G.” He held his hand out. It was shaking, twitching. Alyssa knew it as soon as she saw it. Space Palsy.
“Last time I spent any appreciable amount of time on the rock was when we still launched out of Canaveral. Since then, I’ve been old ironsides down here in full G, and only for a few hours or days between launches. They only spin the quarters on the Sunward Sky up to about a quarter, thankfully.”
Alyssa tried to hide her surprise. He’d been at it a long time, and was in surprisingly good shape considering. Cape Canaveral had been the home of space launches since before the Apollo program in the 1960s, but it had had been destroyed by a category six hurricane years ago. What hadn’t been washed into the sea was now far too unstable for rocket launches. It was amazing he was able to survive on the surface now at all.
He twitched as he redirected his eyes back to Alyssa, looking her up and down. The carabiners clinked softly and slightly out of time with his movement.
“Tell me something,” he said, and the lightness was gone from his voice, “why are you going up?”
“What do you mean?” Alyssa replied, but she knew what he meant.
“People. They don’t just go to space. This isn’t a job people volunteer for.” he pointed at his translucently pale hand, and nodded at the twitching, “It affects you in ways you don’t understand. Sure, the view is incredible, but it messes with your mind. That ship, out there?” he gestured back across to the main terminal, toward the Sunward Sky, “It’s a tin can. There’s a void around you. Your muscles deteriorate, your coordination goes. You have to shit and piss in a bag. You’re one angular miscalculation from burning up in the atmosphere or being flung into the depths of space. And there’s other things. Worse things.” He wasn’t quite looking at her. He looked haunted, and his skin seemed to hang down, heavy and weary beyond his years. He looked as old as the terminal they stood in, and just as bereft and abandonged. His eyes spoke of eons of loneliness, horrors, and of a lifetime of terrified silence. A wave of remorse came over Alyssa.
“I just… I always thought space would be amazing to see,” she lied.
Healy composed himself, and forced a smile, “I see. Well, there’s something to it. The grav hurts less up there, at least.”
His eyes started roaming around the room again, and he gestured to the sign. “Old tourist terminal. You know, before the launch crater, there was a big lake here? people would come from miles around to see it. Sit in here, then get on a transport, and walk out. Sun wasn’t so hot back then, you could go out without a skinsuit. They’d be outside, looking like that! Damned if I know how they didn’t all burn up.” With that, he wheeled himself around, and headed back to the door. “I’m sorry, I need to find a place to lay down, my spine is having trouble with its own weight. I shall see you aboard the Sky.”
Alyssa watched him leave, thinking of what a powerful man he’d have been had he not spent the best part of his adult life in space. She considered following him briefly, to ask him more about his muscle degeneration but thought better of it. She hadn’t liked the darkness in his eyes when he’d talked about it. She therefore turned and wandered through the undisturbed dust, small puffs jumping at her feet and leaving a trail for her to go back by.
Say what you could say about space, she thought, at least you weren’t stuck in the muck of a dying Earth.
