Escape

“Seriously? 8 minutes? That’s all the time I’ve got?” Her stomach fizzed at the realisation. Not enough time. Not nearly enough.

“7 minutes and 57 seconds now.” The small speaker on her collar comm distorted Lin’s voice, making her sound small and metallic. “You need to move fast. Go.”

“But—”

“GO!”

Amber grabbed a handrail, clutching it as she spun herself around in the weightlessness. Straightening her body, she propelled herself sharply, feet first, through the empty space station corridor. Arms crossed over her chest, mummified in the moment. Golden light from illuminated access panels washed across her as she fell past blueish white cushioned corridor tiles.

“There’s no way to buy some time?” she asked, voice sharp. Catching another handrail, she swung herself around a corner into another corridor.

“I'm a salvager not a god.” Lin's level voice sounded calm but focussed. “I can't change orbital mechanics.”

Amber bent her knees to slow her speed, feeling the thump as as her feet came in contact with a closed door, metallic with thick glassy windows. She steadied herself with a nearby handrail. “I need you to open,” she looked around for a maintenance ID, “number 27.”

Green lights illuminated around the door and it slid open with a soft hiss. Without warning, a jolt ran through the corridor, followed by a juddering sound. Rattling noises resonated through the metal hull of the station.

“What’s going on?” Amber shouted.

“High altitude clouds. You’re hitting atmosphere,” Lin almost sounded perfectly calm and level. But a strained note was hiding in her voice. “Give it a second.”

As suddenly as they started, the vibrations died away, leaving a deafening silence behind. Amber kicked her feet against the doorframe, launching herself head first along the corridor. She needed to get to the docking bay.

“How long?” Amber asked.

“6 minutes.”

Amber tucked her arms and knees towards her torso and span around, stretching out her legs ahead of her again. “Can I really make it in time?” she asked. Reaching out, she caught a handrail to both steady herself and pull, giving herself a little more momentum.

“It’s gonna be tight. You're deeper in atmosphere than I thought.”

“Should I just take an escape capsule?” Amber eyed an emergency hatch as she drifted past it.

“No.” A firm, weighty reply. “You’re too deep. An esCap would just fall. You need the Lakana.”

“How much further?”

“Just through the next door. You've still—” She stopped abruptly. A rumble ran through the corridor. “Shit!”

“Lin? Talk to me, what’s going on?”

Green lights illuminated a nearby door, as Amber was passing by.

“Honey, listen, you need to go though that door right now, ok?” Lin was speaking fast now. She sounded worried. She never sounded worried.

Amber reached out for a handrail and caught it tight. She winced as her own weight wrenched her arm, before she pulled herself up, scrambling through the door.

“Are you through?”

“Lin, what’s—”

“Tell me! Are you through?”

“Yes.” Amber’s brow furrowed.

“Ok, stand clear and hang on.”

Amber grabbed a handrail as the door closed with alarming speed. A sharp crack as it sealed tight. Overriden safety protocols. Lin didn't normally do that. The station around her started to shake violently. A terrible groaning noise started to ring through the walls, loud enough for Amber to feel in her chest. A steady crescendo, turning into the sound of rending metal. Through the windows of the closed door, Amber watched as the corridor outside was torn away, piece by piece falling, tumbling into the dark. Warped pieces of metal glowed orange from friction, leaving trails of vapourised atoms like faint candle flames.

“Amber?” Lin’s voice sounded tight. “Are you good?”

“Yeah,” she replied. A sigh of relief. “What happened?”

“Another patch of cloud. A dense one, I think. You’re clear for now, but that thing is NOT going to last much longer.”

“Lin,” Amber’s shoulders sank as a leaden feeling rippled though her stomach. “The docking bay was at the end of that corridor. What am I going to do now?”

Silence.

“Lin?”

More silence. And what may have been a frustrated sigh.

“Lindiwe!” Amber could feel a flurry of panic rising in her chest. Her words were a trembling staccato. “Come on, there’s got to be a way — there's always a way!”

“You won't like it.”

“Like what?”

“Ok.” Back to the level tone. Lin had regained her composure. “The docking bay looks intact. The Lakana should still be there.”

“And if it’s not?”

A pause. “It has to be.”

Amber felt a lump form in the back of her throat.

“Right by you,” Lin continued, “there should be a locker. You’ll need to suit up.”

“You cannot be serious!” Adrenaline pinched the skin of Amber’s face.

“Amber, there’s no other way.”

A burst of sparkles in her vision as her face tingled. She drew a slow breath to try and slow her heart. “But I don’t know if—“

“Amber!” Lin’s voice was sharp as a blade. “You have just over 2 minutes! Suit up now!” Then, softer. “Please. I can’t lose you.”

Amber quickly found the locker and yanked its contents out into the corridor. Three space suits drifted out in the weightlessness. Clumsily, she scrambled into one, checking the safety seals as quickly as she could. How long had she been? 30 seconds? 40? A minute?

“Ok, ready.”

“Just follow my voice.” Lin was calm again. “Hold onto something.”

Amber grabbed a handrail. The door lit green and started to open. She heard the frenzied rushing noise of escaping air. The drifting suits were sucked out, bouncing against the door. Then pristine silence.

“Go now. It's maybe 10 metres away. Not far.”

Hauling herself out, Amber could see little more than a shaking mess of fragmenting space station. Hot vapour trailed all around her, streaking away into the dark. She closed her eyes for a moment. She could do this.

“1 minute 20 seconds.”

Hand over hand, Amber pulled herself along the rail. A chunk of formless debris sped past, perilously close to her head.

“I’ve greenlit all the doors you need. No pressure left anyway.”

Ahead, Amber could see the door, yawning wide.

“Amber, please. Hurry.”

She took a deep breath and released it slowly, making a calm little space inside her mind. A place to shut out all the chaos. Carefully, she tucked her knees, span around, and pointed her legs towards the open doorway. With a sharp pull, she propelled herself towards it and let go of the rails. Amid all the chaos outside, she could hear only silence. Surrounded by jolts and shakes, only stillness.

As she passed through the open doorway, a sharp jolt. Another chunk of the corridor was silently ripped away. A brief glimpse of the planet below. Greenish clouds, serene beneath the fragmenting carnage. She caught a handrail and took a moment to look around. The Lakana was there, docked where she’d left it, sheltered from the ouside for as long as this bay held together. The walls bounced and rattled. They wouldn't last much longer.

“Just get in and brace.” Lin’s words came in a rapid burst. “Engines are fired up. I can remote pilot it from here.”

Amber bent her knees, aimed herself carefully, and kicked hard, propelling herself towards the Lakana. A door was already open, just behind one of the wings. Amber caught hold of a ladder rung on the floor below. Adjusted her aim. She pushed again.

“30 seconds.”

Amber grabbed the edge of the small craft's open door. Heaved herself into an airlock. The muscles in her arm screamed in pain, but she ignored them. She hit a button and the door slid shut, hiding the turmoil outside. No time to repressurise. She found an emergency seat and clutched an armrail. No time for belts.

“Lin, I’m good,” she said. “Go.”

“You’re braced for accel—“

“GO!”

A humming vibration filled the airlock, rumbling through Amber's hands. A steady, controlled vibration this time. Continuous. Warm. The Lakana’s engines fired. With a jolt, the docking clamps decoupled. Then she was pressed against the wall, the vice-like crush of acceleration squeezing her lungs. 2 gees. 4 gees. The safety limits were off. Lightheaded, her eyelids fluttered as the ship screamed away. For a fleeting moment, her vision started to lose colour. Then peace. Relief as the engine vibrations died away and the weight was lifted from her chest.

Amber breathed a heavy sigh. She looked out of a window in the outer door, to see Ouranus’s swirling teal clouds below.

“Amber? You still with me?”

“Yeah.” A long, slow blink. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“8.2 gees. A lot, even for you.” Lin laughed. “You’re clear, honey. I’ll see you really soon!”

Amber breathed a heavy sigh. “That was close. Can we not do this again?”

“We won’t have to,” Lin said. “You got it, right?”

Amber patted her hip. Under the space suit, her pocket. Inside her pocket, a small data crystal.

“Yeah,” she said. “Our ticket to a whole new life.”