Station Breaker

7 Border Patrol

I'm clenching my fists inside my gloves as the hatch swings open. Bennet's little pep talk has completely put me on edge. Now that the Russians are coming I'm about to jump off the cliff of anxiety mountain.

A round Slavic face pokes into the airlock and announces, "The American astronauts will please remain seated while Commander Yablokov conducts his inspection."

Bennet, back in his seat after opening the hatch, replies, "Permission to come aboard."

I notice that no permission was requested and as Yablokov drifts into the compartment he barely even acknowledges Bennet.

Yablokov somehow manages to look even more Russian than the guy who announced his entrance. Compact, with a shaved head, even though he's not in his military uniform, he still wears it somehow.

I guess Bennet and Peterson are the same way. There's a composure they possess that sets them apart from slack yoga boys like myself.

Yablokov rests a hand on the bar above the display consoles in front of Bennet and me, and fixes eyes on Peterson. "You are Lieutenant Peterson?"

"Retired," she replies.

She spent ten years in the Air Force. The last five on a NASA detail. She's only 31, it's weird to think of her as "retired."

Yablokov nods then turns his gaze to me. "You are not Robert Carlyle."

"No, sir. I'm David Dixon."

"Why are you here?" he asks.

While I'm pretty sure he means why am I filling in for Robbie, it kind of feels like a question about the reason for my existence.

"Carlyle had a training accident. I'm his replacement."

Yablokov fixes me with a stare. It's an intimidating, unflinching gaze — like he's waiting for me to confess something. Bennet is also watching me out of the corner of my vision.

I notice his hand is casually floating in the air a few inches above the thigh pocket that holds his gun.

I can't get Poe's Tell-Tale Heart out of my mind.

The gun is calling out to me. My whole world centers around the pistol. I catch myself stealing a sideways glance at the pocket. I try to make it seem like I'm looking at Bennet for instructions.

As a kid, I had a friend who did magic tricks. Whenever he tried to hide something in his hand, that whole side of his body would go stiff. He assumed that because he knew it was there, the whole world knew. When the only clue we had was his weird body language.

Right now, I'm sure my body language says, "Commander Bennet has a goddamn gun in his pocket!"

Deep breath. Yablokov is still staring. What would a less scared version of myself do?

Smile, David. The best I can do is a slightly smug grin.

"You are not military," says Yablokov.

This sounds like an on-the-spot assessment and not him recalling some fact from my profile he just looked over before drifting in.

"No sir. They didn't want me."

"I can understand why."

Damn. I just got zinged in space.

"Your face," he says, "you wear everything on it. Your first mission into space, your ship malfunctions and now you have to come to the scary Russians for help. Do not be afraid. Everything will be made okay."

He gives me what may be a smile, but looks more like something you'd do in the frozen wastes of Siberia to prevent your mouth from freezing.

Yablokov pulls himself over to Bennet. "Commander, you were given instructions by Roscosmos? I expect you will follow them? I hold you personally responsible for the actions of your crew."

"Affirmative," says Bennet. He's trying not to show how much this chafes him to have the Russian treat him like a lost tourist.

Yablokov slides over to the space between Bennet's seat and the wall of the capsule. For a split second I think he's going to pat him down.

He motions towards the storage lockers behind us. Those and a trunk under the capsule are where we carry cargo.

"What is your cargo?"

"I can resend the manifest if you like. Resupplies for US/iC and Peterson's equipment."

Yablokov drifts behind us and unlatches one of the panels without asking. "No unsecured gas cylinders or other hazardous materials?"

Other than the several hundreds of pounds of monomethylhydrazine fuel and nitrogen tetroxide oxidizer that will explode upon contact we have sitting in tanks underneath us for landing, and a pistol in Bennet's pocket that could poke a hole through the tanks in a split second — blowing up the Unicorn and rapidly depressurizing the entire K1 station causing it to lose orbital stability and crash into our atmosphere where it will only imperfectly burn up, leaving a debris field a thousand miles long — no, nothing to worry about here.

"None of our cargo is dangerous," says Bennet, simplifying things.

Yablokov pulls himself back to the nose of the capsule. "Only one of you will be allowed out of the capsule at a time."

"That's not going to work, Commander," says Bennet. "We're required to do all of our EVAs in two-man configurations. In order for us to inspect the sensor I need two of us."

"You will have a cosmonaut escort."

"I understand that. But it's a two-person operation, not a precaution. I thought they explained this to Roscosmos?"

"They did. But this is at my discretion."

Even though our suits have gyros for keeping you balanced and emergency jets if you somehow detached from the tether, a space walk can be a terrifying experience — especially on something unfamiliar like the K1.

The technology has advanced some since the first time men drifted out of their capsules. It's now NASA and iCosmos's standard procedure to carry a small rescue drone that can retrieve an astronaut that drifts too far away. Thankfully, this has never had to be used on an iCosmos mission.

But I'm sure as the rapid pace of orbital construction continues, that will come in handy.

For now, we try to keep one person focused on the task and another to watch them, making sure they don't get tangled up or disoriented.

Yablokov stares at Bennet, trying to read the man. Bennet does a lot better at not flinching than I do.

He has that confident trait of making his point, then not arguing; ready to wait the other out.

"Fine," says Yablokov. "Which astronaut would you use?"

"Peterson," replies Bennet.

Peterson? She's not even an iCosmos employee.

Stay cool, David.

"Alright." Yablokov points to me. "He waits here during EVA."

Why do I get the feeling I'm a hostage in something I don't understand?