Orbital

Twenty Squatter

The spacesuit I spotted on the wall when I first entered the CS is clearly not empty. Right now its occupant is holding on to me, stopping me from leaving.

“Mongoose, are you okay?” asks Laney.

I ignore the question and focus on my current crisis.

At the end of the arm, a face is staring back at me from behind the partition. If I’m startled, this man look absolutely terrified. He also appears to be very ill.

After I pry his fingers loose, he clutches at my wrists. His face shield is open and I can see his breath in the freezing air as he whispers something over and over.

“Ops, are you seeing this?”

“Get out of there now, Mongoose!” Flavor yells into the comm.

“Hold up. He’s trying to say something.”

I rotate my body so I can see him up close. I remember that my visor is still down, which probably makes me even more terrifying and flip it up.

“You have an order!” screams Flavor.

“Are you okay?” I ask the man.

He whispers, “Bāng wǒ…bāng wǒ…”

“Ops, can I get a translation on that?”

Flavor cuts off the CIA linguist. “Do not translate that! Disconnect right now!”

Laney jumps in, “I think he’s saying…”

Her comm goes dead.

“Dixon. Get the hell out of there right now,” says Flavor.

I inspect the man’s face. His eyes are bloodshot and his skin has discoloration. He looks like he’s suffering from dehydration, starvation and probably radiation exposure.

“I think this guy is seriously ill.”

“Then you should be leaving. Now!”

I lift use my helmet speaker to talk to the man. “Do you need help?”

I’m not sure if his English is any better than my Chinese, but he seems to get the intent and nods his head.

“Ops, this guy is dying. He’s not going to last very long.”

“He’s already dead,” says Flavor. “Leave him and return to the ship.”

“I’m no medical expert, but I’m pretty sure I can tell the difference between dying and dead. What does the flight surgeon have to say?”

“He can’t hear you,” Flavor replies. “I cut them off.”

“What? You cut me off from Ops?”

“I gave you an order.”

“Jessup is in charge of this mission. Not you.”

“And I give Jessup orders. Now return to the ship before you jeopardize the mission any further.”

Alright, enough of this bullshit. “Put the surgeon back on the comm.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you fucking can. Do it now!” I yell into my microphone, startling the Chinese astronaut. “Sorry pal. I’m not upset with you.”

He reaches a gloved hand towards my arm and holds on to me like a drowning man.

“Return to the ship,” Flavor repeats robotically.

“Fine.”

I make a hand motion towards the astronaut, indicating to follow me.

He’s weak, real weak, so I help him out, pulling him through the cables and floating equipment.

“What the fuck, Dixon!” Flavor screams at me as he watches my video feed.

“You don’t want to let me have our doctor look at him, then I’m going to bring him to a doctor.”

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! ARE YOU GOD DAMN INSANE?”

I make the follow me hand gesture again to the astronaut. He nods his head slowly.

“This guy is asking for our help.”

“You don’t know what the hell he’s asking for.”

“Because you cut off the goddamn translator!”

“This is treason, Dixon!”

Fuck him. I shut off the radio.

Christ. What am I doing? I just trespassed on to a foreign power’s space station and now I may be kidnapping one of their astronauts.

Clearly he needs help. But should I be the one offering it to him?

Hell’s bells. This guy doesn’t have much longer. Last I heard the Chinese weren’t planning on sending up another rocket here for some time. My ride is his only chance of surviving.

I pull the man into the airlock then turn the radio back on. “I’m about to load him into the DarkStar. Are you going to let me talk to the doctor now?”

Flavor is seething at me. “You think that black site in Texas was rough? You have no idea of the shit that you’re in. You’re going to find yourself buried so deep in Federal pen you’ll only see the stars when some terrorist fucks you in the ass.”

“You’re a goddamn poet. Ever hear of UN resolution 2345 regarding the Rescue Agreement? I’m bound by law to help this man. Additionally, my FAA astronaut license specifically states that I have to. So there’s a UN resolution we ratified and a Federal mandate. Care to see what happens with this one in court, asshole?”

“You’re about to compromise a sensitive operation and a multi-billion-dollar investment, Dixon. This is national security. You’ll never see a court.”

“This is doing the right thing.”

The astronaut pulls his body into the chamber and I seal the inner hatch.

“Pull your shield closed.” I make a shutting motion with my hand, telling him to close up his suit.

He begins to slowly check his gauges. I give them a once-over, making sure that when I open the outer lock I don’t accidentally asphyxiate him.

I give him a thumbs up and he returns the gesture.

The man is operating on instinct. God knows how long he’s been in here waiting for a rescue that was never going to come.

“So you don’t have two dead astronauts on your hands, I highly recommend you put me back on with Ops.”

Flavor says nothing. There’s just an audible click on the feed.

“Are you okay!?” Laney desperately asks into the comm.

“Affirmative.”

“What the hell happened?”

“Worry about that later. Right now I need you do calculate a reentry profile for two people.”