Equal Ground

It was impossible to tell if the increasing hum of static was coming from the old radio or Marvin’s own mind. After forty-five minutes of so-far useless effort the initially robotic toned requests for emergency assistance started to be flooded with gut-wrenching fear.

“Mayday. Mayday. Shuttle 245 requesting assistance. Gas leak detected on board.”

Silence

“Shuttle 245 requesting support. Oxygen levels are rapidly declining. Replacement parts needed immediately.”

Silence

“We’ll be dead in less than three hours! Mayday shuttle 245 requesting assistance.”

Static, then silence.

“…Please.”

Marvin pulled off his headset and slammed it against the metal desk in frustration. The gravity of the situation they were all in was finally taking hold. No one was coming. Eight years of schooling, five years of grunt work, dozens of tests taken, all to achieve the final reward of dying in space on his first exploration. He was selected along with two others, Alvin Briggs and Debora Spellman, to pilot the second smallest shuttle in the institute. Marvin jumped at the chance to finally have real hands-on experience out in the deep expanses of space. They hadn’t even made it a quarter of their journey before the alarms alerted them that something was wrong.

He knew better than to hope for a response this deep into the solar system, knew any shuttle available that could possibly come save them was at least days away from their location, not the mere hours they had left to them. Still, the need to survive paired with years of protocol training kept him trying.

“This is shuttle 245 requesting…”

“I think you could use a break.”

It was infuriating how calm Briggs could manage to be even in a situation as dire as this. He walked in the room with a confidence Marvin both envied and resented, the kind that allowed a man with half the experience and intelligence he held to be somehow ranked above him on this disastrous trip.

“A break? How would a break help anything? We’re about to die in,” he checked his watch, “two hours and forty minutes and you think a break is in order?”

Briggs shrugged, sitting heavily across from Marvin. His shoulder length black hair swung casually over his face as he leaned forward to better survey his associate.

“Yeah I kind of do. You slam that headset down that hard again you’re going to have a hell of a time radioing for anyone.”

Marvin looked pointedly away. Of the many accolades Marvin had sought to achieve in his 31 years of life, remaining calm under pressure was never a contender. He was fraying along the edges and it was impossible to hide.

Briggs suddenly put his hand out above the desk. For a brief bewildered moment Marvin thought he meant for him to grab it until he realized he was eyeing the headset sat beside him. Reluctantly Marvin handed it over, allowing the head of command an opportunity to try and save the day. He stood up to leave the desk as Briggs scooted over to take control of the radio.

Crossing the small room, Marvin sat stiffly down on a bench beside the open office door and did his best to relax, all to predictably pathetic results. The fear that had been pooling in his gut met resistance against a wave of jealousy as he watched his commander lean back in his seat and begin barking out requests to the radio. It was foolish, feeling resentful in a moment like this when everything was on the line, but Briggs was an unnerving constant reminder of the life Marvin fought so hard to have and never got to live. He was popular, handsome, easy going, and always got what he wanted. Marvin on the other hand gave up any chances of friendship and connection for the pursuit of his career, a career that was currently being snuffed out of existence before it could even truly start. Even if they were saved, failing to catch a fault in their oxygen supply systems before setting off was sure to put a damper in any further attempts for off-planet expeditions. For him anyway. He imagined Briggs would figure out a way to smooth talk himself to the head of another command quickly.

He heard the footsteps near the door before Deb entered but didn’t acknowledge her when she walked in, too fixated on his own building misery. A soft hand gripped his shoulder, managing to pull his attention away. Deb’s angular face came into view, her moistened eyes indicating a floodgate of tears had only just recently run dry.

“I’m scared too,” she said, reading only part of his darkened expression.

He merely nodded back as he didn’t see any reason to clarify his feelings further. Deb joined him on the bench and they sat quietly listening between the occasional utterances of Briggs and the silence that only space can provide, until-

“This is Briggs from shuttle 245, we are requesting— yes? Yes!”

Marvin sprang up, nearly knocking Deb off the bench as he ran over. He heard the murmurs of a voice through the headset as Briggs nodded enthusiastically along.

“…yes, less than two hours now… that's perfect. Perfect! I’ll send coordinates now...”

Moments later Briggs pulled off the headset and gently set it down before leaning back comfortably in his chair.

“They’ll be here in an hour thirty,” he said smugly, “so, champagne?”

The tension and dread previously tightening within the room immediately snapped. Deb burst out laughing, quickly joined by Briggs and Marvin. They laughed in triumph, they laughed at their situation, they laughed at their fear. And when they couldn’t bear to laugh any more they scrambled from the officers room down to their tiny kitchenette at the end of the hall. Marvin followed last in line, giddily shaking off with each step the bitter feelings he had had towards his colleague only minutes before.

Deb pulled the aforementioned champagne from a metal cabinet. It was meant to be drank once they reached their destination and received their soil samples, a celebration that was tradition for all Institute expeditions. They collectively decided being saved in the nick of time was a far more worthy excuse. Glasses were poured and conversations about what they would do the second they landed back home dominated their first two rounds.

“You know,” Marvin began saying, interrupting the flow of conversation as he pointed his nearly empty glass at Briggs, “I never liked you much.” He noticed he was slurring a bit, a surprise after only two glasses of champagne. Deb cackled across from him, she was lying on her stomach, head propped up by her wrists as she watched the two men sitting on the floor across from her. The alcohol was clearly hitting her hard too, likely helped along by the slowly declining oxygen.

Briggs raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t seem upset by the sudden turn of topic. “Oh yeah?” he asked causally, “why’s that then?”

Marvin finished his glass and pushed his slipping glasses up. “Everything comes too easy to you, Briggs. You got this job too easy, you get friends too easy, you get women too easy…” Marvin laughed, the anger surrounding these facts having slipped away with the alcohol and absurdity of the situation combined. With a final burst of honesty he finished “you have everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Briggs smiled through the flattering condemnation. He was about to respond when a sharp crack alerted his attention. Deb’s head had fallen from her propped up position, smacking against the concrete. Marvin attempted to jump up to run over to her but stumbled forward instead, landing facedown beside her. Crawling to his knees took considerable effort as he felt the world spin with every movement.

“What’s happening?” He asked, confusion clouding his thoughts. Beside him he heard Briggs take a sip of his drink.

“Probably oxygen deprivation. Or too much carbon dioxide. Or monoxide? Can never remember that.”

Marvin shook his head slowly as it suddenly took on the weight of a bowling ball.

“But no, they’re coming. It’s only been, it’s only…” Marvin looked at his watch and saw nearly two hours had passed. He looked to Briggs who eyed him nervously, none of the trademark confidence still holding residence.

“You said they were coming. Hour thirty,” he slurred.

“There’s no one coming, Marvin”

Marvin shook his head again. Or maybe his whole body shook. He couldn’t tell as he sunk down further to the ground. “But I heard them,” he said weakly.

“You heard Command stating there’s no one within days of our location. No one’s coming Marvin.”

Briggs glass dropped and shattered as he slid further down the floor, collapsing finally on his side.

“You bastard!” his head spun with the effort to keep it upright, “Why?”

Briggs tried to shrug but only was able to twitch in response. “Why tell you?” he breathed out with notable effort, “we’re dead anyway. No point in spending our last two hours in panic. Felt better this way.”

Marvin had no response to that, no will to argue left within him, he merely glared.

“Well,” Briggs rasped out with a laugh, “at least you finally get your wish, Marv. You get to have everything I have. About two minutes left choking to death on a shuttle, thousands of miles from home.”

Marvin stared as Briggs’ body went limp. The static from earlier returned to full volume. His last moments of consciousness were not spent regarding loved ones or a life well lived flashing before his eyes, nor of all the dreams he wished he could have accomplished. No, he spent it pondering the absurdity that even in dying, he still managed to come last.