A Complicated Love Story Set in Space - Shaun David Hutchinson Page 0,3

to myself. “Where’s conduit F-519?”

At the same time as DJ said, “I don’t know,” a path to the conduit appeared as an overlay on my hud. And, of course, it led back out the airlock.

“That figures,” I muttered.

“What?”

“The conduit is outside the ship.”

DJ fell quiet again, and I wished he’d stop doing that. I wanted him to fill every second of silence while I was stuck in the suit. He could have recited the periodic table of elements or read Moby Dick aloud and I wouldn’t have complained. Much. All right, I would have complained, but I wouldn’t have made him stop.

“I bet Qriosity’s got spacesuits,” DJ said. “If I can find one, I can get out there and fix the leak, but that means you’re going to have to come to the reactor room and—”

“I’m already in a suit,” I said. “I woke up outside the ship. I’m in an airlock right now. I was about to come inside when you called. I haven’t even pressurized it yet.”

“Good,” DJ said. “That’s good. You can fix the conduit and I can stay here and take care of the reactor.”

“Lucky me.” I didn’t know anything about shutting down reactors, but I was jealous of DJ because at least he got to be in the ship. I would have traded places with him in a second, but apparently, time was one thing we lacked.

“You think you can handle it?” DJ was asking.

“No?” I said. “I don’t know. This is my first spaceship. I don’t even know what fixing a coolant conduit entails. But I’m out here and you’re in there, so I guess I’m going to have to try.”

I felt like if I concentrated hard enough, I could picture DJ’s face, which was ludicrous, of course. Just wishful thinking in the dark.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” DJ said. “But we’ve got about fifteen minutes before Qriosity blows up, so if you want to keep living, I’m going to need you to do a heck of a lot more than try.”

The touch panel asking if I wanted to cycle the airlock was still taunting me. All I had to do was press it. I even considered doing it and saying it was an accident. Except, then I would’ve been responsible for destroying the ship and killing DJ, and I really hated having to apologize.

“Right,” I said. “I can definitely maybe do this.”

“That’s the spirit!”

“And if I can’t, then we both die in a fiery explosion and it won’t matter anyway.”

THREE

I DIDN’T WANT TO DIE, even though I might have said I did.

Look, I was dealing with some stuff, okay? I was walking home in the rain with a milkshake in one hand and a bag of Dick’s burgers in the other, and some oblivious ass in an SUV, who was too busy texting to be bothered with paying attention to the road, rolled through the crosswalk and nearly hit me. Yes, I lost my temper. Yes, I threw my milkshake at him as he shrugged and drove off. Yes, I yelled, “Why don’t you just kill me next time?!” at the sky and started to cry, while strangers on the other side of 45th pretended not to stare. It’s not like I actually meant it.

After that, I gave the burgers to the homeless guy who was always hanging around the bus stop, went home, and crawled into bed. But, honestly, I hadn’t been serious about wanting to die, and I hoped that whoever was out there making those decisions understood that I’d just been having a really bad day.

Not that this day was turning out much better. Though, I supposed if I managed to make it back into the ship without suffocating, I’d count it as a win.

I trudged along Qriosity’s hull, following the path on my hud, taking careful, measured steps like I was crossing a tightrope over a pit of vipers. It was eerie not hearing anything outside of my own breathing inside the suit. I could feel the impact of my boots attaching to the metal hull, and my brain expected to hear the sound of each step and didn’t know what to do when it didn’t. It left me feeling unsettled and anxious.

Adding to my disquietude was that I couldn’t see much of the ship beyond the globe of light radiating from my suit. The path on my hud disappeared into the darkness, and it could have led me right over the edge and I wouldn’t have known