[Untethered] by ArufaBeta & Capricious - Scarlet System

The two astronauts stood in the grey airlock. Ekaterina could feel the sweat on her palms, the beating of her heart— but no one can tell you’re nervous if you’re covered in a spacesuit. She could only barely hear the air hissing around her.

Her fellow spacewalker gave her a thumbs-up as the hatch opened in front of them. She’d known Tobias since the first day of their neutral-buoyancy training, and he was just as excited as ever. Unlike him, Ekaterina hated spacewalks.

She stared out into the starry abyss ahead. Some considered it awe-inspiring, this unfamiliar sky. Ekaterina wasn’t one of them— she’d never lived on Earth, so this sky was all she’d ever known. To her, it was boring.

When she turned to Tobias, he was already gone, his tether wrapped around the opening. She’d figured something like this would happen. She let out an annoyed sigh and looked back. Both their tethers were connected to the inside of the airlock, looped in like thin black boa constrictors.

A pair of pliers appeared from her suit’s pocket— they’d been supplied by NASA for instrument repairs. She hooked them on her tether and pressed down.

She was a bit disappointed when she didn’t hear a snap. Not that the cord wasn’t broken— it was— it just so happened that sound couldn’t travel through space.

Ekaterina wasn’t suicidal, not in the slightest. In fact, this was a display of her arrogance. She did it every time, if only to pressure herself into working less carelessly. Even if she did let go, she still had her SAFER, the jetpack attached to her back. She would be fine.

She turned back and set off out of the hatch, clinging tightly to every handle she could. She and Tobias had different assignments around the ship— fix a minor detection instrument, repair a couple missing bolts on the oxygen dock, and several other menial tasks.

There was one important fix that had to be made, though. The space station’s radio transceiver had been broken by a piece of junk from an older ship. Until that was fixed, Ekaterina and Tobias couldn’t contact Aodori, the planet below.

The sun left a red glare on Ekaterina’s visor. She maneuvered carefully to the broken transceiver, gripping each handle on the station’s mechanical surface. She looked behind her just to make sure— her tether was floating uselessly behind, an umbilical cord to her spacesuit.

She knew Tobias would be on the other side of the space station at this point, so she’d have to wait a bit before he arrived. She drummed her marshmallow fingers on the hard metal below her. Each tap sent her just a bit further away from the station, which she found amusing.

She then pushed off entirely, letting her feet rotate under the handlebars. She enjoyed this kind of freedom— freedom from the world below, freedom from the people she hated. If only they could see her now, floating over everything.

The moment of respite came to an end as she pushed the arches of her feet against the handlebars, quickly twisting herself back. She reached out to grab the device in front of her, feeling her feet slip out from under the handlebars. She felt as if she was cheating death. A smug grin spread under her visor.

Her grin didn’t last very long.

She’d missed the device and sent herself spiraling. A sense of dread rushed through Ekaterina as she grasped for the closest surface. Anything would work— the station’s robotic arm, the broken transceiver, the handlebars. But she had sent herself just out of reach.

The lack of gravity didn’t stop her stomach from dropping. She began to flail, hoping she would grab onto something. She didn’t reach for her SAFER, not even once. The truth was, she knew it was out of fuel— it was meant only for emergencies, so it didn’t come with much in the first place. She’d already used it all on past EVAs, and this wasn’t even the first SAFER she’d drained. Tobias was using that one.

Her vision spun, her surroundings becoming a blur of grey and red. She spread her arms and legs out as far as she could, to no avail. Even further— still nothing. Her life began to flash before her eyes, the scarlet blur becoming background noise.

Desperately grasping at any semblance of control, she began counting. The certainty of numbers had always helped her calm her nerves. Extending out her digits and curling one in with each count, she began.

Ten… It was the same countdown every astronaut blasted off with, and yet each of them were taught to leave not with hope, but confidence, especially when committing to such a celestial task. Whoever came up with that notion had clearly never been at the mercy of the cosmos.

Nine… She still remembered not only how old she was but the exact day she entertained the idea of being an astronaut. It wasn’t often that Ekaterina fondly reminisced on that liminal childhood of always longing for more. It was never enough… which, coincidentally, was how she felt about herself.

Eight… A forebodingly high number of attempts to even pass the exam. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for this. Maybe she should’ve taken the hint and given up on being an astronaut. In fact, she probably would’ve, if it hadn’t been for the encouragement and support of her friends and family. Even cutting her losses and calling it quits wasn’t something she had the strength or courage to commit to.

Seven… It was almost funny how little she’d actually changed. No matter how many times she’d mentally turned a page or said she’d be more responsible, she always fell back into her apathy. She couldn’t care enough for herself. Or anyone.

Six… Only those mere seconds ago, she had felt on top of the world, yet for everything to evaporate like this from such a simple and avoidable mistake…? It wasn’t fair… It wasn’t fair. It wasn't fair!

Ekaterina snapped back to reality with a jolt as her hand hit something. She had no idea what, but she instinctively grabbed it as hard as she could. As she pulled herself back, she gasped.

The panel had… fallen off the ship…?

She felt her back hit the station’s wall, her suit’s cushioning squishing around it. The wall was behind her, and when she tried to reach back and grab onto it, she found herself moving away. Turning her head, she reached out again, desperate. But it was too late. Once again, her future had fallen out of her reach.

Her pupils shrunk through smeared lenses as she took deep regulated breaths. The corner of her lip curled up ever so slightly as she rhythmically nodded along the universe’s cruel joke. She’d had enough experience with being toyed with by fate, and like always, she began to dissociate.

Five… The hours remaining before her suit would become unable to sustain her. Only five hours for her to brood over every regret she’s ever had and every mistake she’s ever made. Something like this was bound to happen to her eventually.

Four… Too many times she’d needed to be helped and saved from a helpless situation. Of course she’d been keeping track. This was her fourth time after all, and in a way, the weightlessness of space wasn’t all too different of a sensation from marinating in numbed self-pity and self-loathing.

Three… Each and every forgiveness forsaken once more that she’ll hold onto beyond death. She’ll never understand why they won’t abandon her. She’ll never understand why they won’t just give up on her. She’ll never understand why they just let themselves be strewn along and dragged down by her empty words and futile, half-assed efforts, only for everyone to be hurt in the end.

Two… Just two more years— no… Two months! Even just two more months would suffice for her to set everything straight. If only she had that extra bit of time, she’d be sure to change for good! She’d be diligent! She’d wake up at a reasonable hour! She’d even start answering the phone again! She’d give anything! She didn’t know what cosmic entity out there would hear her prayers or to whom she was making her last unreliable promise, but even though she’d come to terms with her helplessness, nothing could change that primal feeling. She just wanted to live.

One… What better way to describe her current state. It was almost cathartic in a way, for her to finally be left alone, drifting into the infinite abyss to slowly decay. A part of her hoped that NASA wouldn’t trouble themselves with searching for and retrieving her corpse. 

Zero… The number of chances she had left to truly change, and similarly, no theoretical amount of false confidence could compensate for the reality she was currently confronted with. No air of arrogance she could produce would save her from this vacuum of insecurity.

She gazed out. Out at the space station, out at the scarlet planet, out at the stars. Her father had once told her that Earth was still out there somewhere, a home she’d never known. Maybe she’d see it in the afterlife.

She noticed something then. Someone, actually. Tobias was situated on the station, looking out at her. He was reaching for her tether… but he couldn’t grab it. His tether restricted him, keeping him just out of reach. Ekaterina closed her eyes and accepted her fate.

But she felt a tug on her chest. She blinked her eyes open to see Tobias pulling her cord back, pliers in his free hand. He wasn’t tethered anymore.

By the time they reached each other, Ekaterina knew only one of them could make it. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction— as fast as she was moving towards the ship, he was moving away from it. She screamed at him to leave her, to push off of her while he still could, but he heard nothing. It just so happened that sound couldn’t travel through space.

He grabbed her SAFER and climbed around to her back, his short tether trailing out of her vision. That was the last she would ever see of Tobias. She felt a push, and through her blurry, teary eyes, she could see the station approaching.

Her prayer had been answered, though perhaps she hadn’t been ready to give anything for it. If it hadn’t been for the fact that she’d only just been rescued once more, a part of her wanted to die again. She deserved to die for being the burden that she was, but she couldn’t afford to. Not after that.

She was weak. So weak. She felt as though she’d returned to the gravity of Aodori without time to readjust. She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t. She wanted to lash out, but she couldn’t. She was too overwhelmed. She was too overwhelmed to feel or do anything… but with a tentative push against the metal bars, and another, she continued back into the airlock.

She had made a promise to someone.