Onboard Frontier 1

Sam watched absentmindedly as Chang entered the information into the system; the stocky woman was hunched over the secondary console, and from where Sam stood she could see the scowl plastered across Chang’s face.

Captains Log – Emiko Chang, Entry 306

Frontier 1 – Deep Space Mining Expedition – Day 371

14/06/2134 – 14:56

Current position: Asteroid belt, 257 million miles from Earth, approaching Ceres

As the other woman tapped away on the keyboard, Sam’s gaze drifted across the main deck: just above the main console, Ceres was clearly visible through the windows. The colossal asteroid dwarfed the Frontier 1 spacecraft to an immeasurable degree, but to Sam, it was just as unimpressive as every other asteroid they had landed on in the past year; just another hunk of space rock with a couple million dollars’ worth of minerals and ores just below its surface. Sam was a mechanic, not a scientist, but the novelty of space travel had worn off for her months ago.

“I’m not gonna lie Emiko, we are not getting paid enough for this crap. We’ve been out here for a year. A year.”

Chang looked up momentarily to give Sam a look. A sympathetic sort of look that more or less meant: ‘Tell me about it.’ Sam let out a breath that was somewhere between a sigh and laugh. She crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head back to lean against the wall, savouring the last few moments before she had to get back to work. Sam had come up from the engine room too cool off, both physically and mentally; she was drenched in sweat and she was probably one more burn or blister away from taking a sledgehammer to the whole damn thing. It had started a few days ago: the cooling systems for the engine room had been acting up and Sam had exhausted almost every possible cause. She had been inside cooling ducts, uncomfortably close to the fusion reactors and stripped the engine console to its wires; she just couldn’t figure it out. When she had first discovered the problem, she had tried simply running a diagnostic scan on the whole system, which she had reported back to Chang. Her captain didn’t say much in response, just to keep trying and that she would contact Base back on Earth. The rather curt response didn’t really surprise Sam, even though she considered her and Emiko to be good friends. The entirety of the 22-man crew had been feeling low as of late. In other words, they were all starting to realise that the job that had signed up for was just over half-way through and the paycheck they would receive when they got home would be a rather depressing sum.

“Hey, Sam, can you head back down there, run another diagnostic and send me the results?” Chang didn’t look up as she spoke, “I need to forward it onto Base.”

“Right, and what good is it gonna do?” Sam's voice was breathy like she was holding back a laugh, "This whole thing is just so-” Sam wanted to just throw her hands up in the air and scream or kick the wall so hard she left a dent in it. She did none of those things; instead just opting to push off the wall and run her hands through her hair, “Stupid. It’s so stupid.”

“Really, ‘stupid’? Is that the best you can come up with today Sam? Your language was a lot more colourful a couple of hours ago. What was it I heard you call that ratchet yesterday?”

Sam gave her an incredulous look before she started towards the door, not bothering to keep that disdain out her voice, “I’ll get right on that Captain.”

***

The lower levels of the ship had been in a constant state of uncomfortable heat since the cooling system went bust. No one went down there anymore unless it was strictly necessary, meaning Sam was the only one who did. Walking down the corridor Sam could easily imagine flames licking at the walls either side of her and didn’t even notice herself draw her arms tighter to her sides. Finally reaching a door with ‘ENGINE ROOM’ printed onto the surface in bold letters, Sam entered it with a frown creasing the skin between her eyebrows. She didn’t mutter anything under her breath, or sigh, she just walked in and took a seat behind the console and focused her attention on the control panel. For the umpteenth time, she started a diagnostic scan.

                Diagnostic Scan in Progress: 3% complete

Getting to her feet, Sam walked rather reluctantly to the display on the far wall which had a temperature gauge on it. There was a dial, indicating a temperature well above optimal – pointer very obviously in the red – and a digital display with 31.4°C shown with red LEDs. A quiet alert went off somewhere behind her, not dissimilar to a microwave going off, and made Sam turn on her heels. The scan was complete, and the results almost made Sam want to cry.

Diagnostic Scan Complete: All Systems Fully Functioning and Working at Optimum Capacity

Sam sent Emiko the results. She read over the text again, eyes flicking back and forth as she tried to understand. The cooling system was malfunctioning, but diagnostic scans were saying that the cooling system was functioning correctly. Sam turned away from the console. As she looked up, her eyes fell onto a small dent in the wall just next to the door. It was no bigger than a golf ball, but it was a good few millimetres deep. Taking a few steps closer to it Sam felt a wave of guilt wash over her as she remembered that she was the one who made the dent: it happened yesterday when she was disassembling the console. She had somehow managed to slam her finger in between a panel cover and its frame. The first thing she did was swear; shouting curses and profanities until she looked down and saw the first droplet of blood appear; it was then that she scooped down and picked up to the first tool she could find and in one fluid movement, she hurled it across the room.

She looked at the dent a while longer, an eerie calm falling over her as she felt determination creep into her bones. Turning around she took a seat, again, and put her hands over the keyboard, fingers hovering just above the keys. She exited from the diagnostic system and it was like time slowed down around her as something flashed up in front of her eyes. Her breath hitched painfully in her throat as she stumbled frantically away from the console, almost falling over herself as the chair behind her crashed back onto the floor. An error had popped up on the monitor and she had only needed to read the words ‘catastrophic failure’ before she was up and running. Flinging the door open Sam wasted no time in hightailing her way down the corridor. She could barely keep her feet in line with each other as she sprinted away from the engine room at a speed that hurt the muscles in her legs. She didn’t know how much time she had left, but she only needed a few more seconds to pass through an interior airlock, slam it shut and hope it would be up to the task of being an impromptu blast door. Each stride she took down the corridor it was like someone was rifling deeper into her brain, pulling up all the doubt and the paranoia. What caused the failure? Is this my fault? Why didn’t the system identify the error sooner? Am I going to die?

The loud clang of the airlock being slammed into its frame was nothing in comparison to the deafening sound the explosion made. It tore through the hull of the ship with ease and unfortunately the airlock didn’t work out as Sam had hoped – maybe it had saved her life, she didn’t know – the shockwave flung the metal door open, catching Sam up in the movement, and threw her body down the corridor.

***

She didn’t know how much time had passed, but when Sam came too the only thing her brain seemed to process was the agonising ringing in her ears. She forced her eyes to snap open, to take in the scene around her: flames engulfed everything, sparks were flying from exposed wires, pieces of the ceiling were hanging down. As the rest of her senses started to sharpen, she brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose. When she placed the same hand down on the ground to try and stand up, her fingers were coated in bright red blood. It took an excruciating amount of time for Sam to get to her feet, and even then, she couldn’t stand up straight. Refusing to look down at herself, she wrapped an arm protectively around her throbbing stomach. Hugging herself a little tighter, her abdomen felt strangely firm under her arm; she tried not to think about it as she stumbled down the rest of the corridor.

By the time Sam reached the main deck, she was finding it quite difficult to breathe and tears had welled in her eyes. Almost falling through the door, Sam was met with the main deck in very similar condition to the corridor: flames, sparks, broken metal. Sam didn’t have the energy to run, so she half walked, half limped over to the main console; she had to lean heavily on it just to stay on her feet. She reached a shaky hand over the desk to pick up the radio, holding it in her hand she used one of her fingers to switch broadcast to all channels. When she tried to speak the only thing that came out was a cough. She could taste the blood in her mouth. She shook her head in frustration. Taking a breath, she tried again, voice urgent and borderline scared “Mayday, mayday, this is Frontier 1 requesting immediate assistance. Does anyone copy?”

She repeated herself a few times, each repetition her voice becoming more and more strained. She slammed the radio down onto the desk, choking back a sob. Sam felt her chest tighten and tremble in fear. Realisation was starting to wash over her. The realisation that she was going to die. In space. Alone. She felt the need to try and calm herself down but as her eyes drifted down to the console she saw error warnings popping up all over the place, but one, in particular, caught her eye:

            Critical Error: Life Support System Failure

Oxygen levels critical [approximately 4.61%]

Even in her dazed state, Sam knew that the ship must be losing oxygen from some hole the explosion made in the outer walls for the oxygen levels to already be that low. Another warning flashed over the screen:

Oxygen levels critical [approximately 1.77%]

Complete Oxygen Depletion Imminent [approximately 12 minutes remaining]

Stepping away from the console, she felt a fogginess come over her mind, making her feel sluggish. She practically dragged her feet across the metal floor. She kept her eyes up, fighting to keep them open. She was walking toward the large observation windows. Somewhere behind her the radio crackled to life but she didn’t listen to whatever was said.

Finally, stood in front of the glass, Sam could see her face in the reflection: the cut on her forehead was still bleeding profusely, there was blood on her lips and her eyes looked tired. So very, very tired. Sam let herself fall against the glass, barely feeling the impact, and slid down to the floor. There was another explosion somewhere in the ship, but it sounded distant, far away. She barely reacted to the noise. She looked out through the glass at Ceres, just as big and unimpressive as it was earlier, and shut her eyes.