Interplanetary Blues

Eoghan grasped at the mask with both hands, keeping the plastic seal pressed tight so he could gulp down mouthfuls of sweet, satisfying oxygen. His fingers trembled, nearly dropping the lifesaving cannister. Across from him, someone moved to press it back into place. The station swam around his head, and it took him a second to focus on the stranger kneeling over him. The heavily starched uniform marked him as upper management, but Eoghan couldn’t place a name to his face.

“I’m going to read you a few questions, I want you to answer by raising one finger for yes and two for no. Do you understand?” The manager started, glancing down at a small projector strapped to his offhand. He was an older man, his thinning white hair floating around his head like the fluff of a dandelion in the low gravity of their dwarf-planet home. Plastic tubes ran to his nose, feeding him a supply of fresh oxygen. It was a luxury many couldn’t afford.

Eoghan lifted a finger. One

“Good,” he began, before clearing his throat. “Do you understand that under sanctions by the United Interplanetary Commission, all for and non-profit organizations are required to maintain life support systems which are, at a minimum, capable of sustaining human life?”

One.

“And you understand that you have the right to seek on-site medical attention should you feel these systems are not meeting your individual needs, at personal cost?”

One.

“Do you consent to medical attention at this time? If you do not have the credits to pay now, they can be deducted from your future earnings with Andromeda Industries.”

Two! Eoghan waved the fingers for emphasis. He was already getting dangerously close to the red line, where his debts with the company outweighed any profit he made. The five-year contract he’d signed was bleeding him dry just halfway into its tenure. He couldn’t waste a single credit.

The manager shook his head, pale lips disappearing into a disapproving line. “I’ll ask again. Do you understand that should you face medical distress, including death, as a result of this decision to refuse medical attention, neither you nor those acting on your behalf will be able to seek legal restitution?”

One.

The manager opened his mouth but shut it quickly, swallowing whatever he was going to say with a bitter frown. “The oxygen cannister will be docked from your weekly pay.” Eoghan winced. “Get to your quarters. You’re done for the day.”

---

A stabbing headache haunted Eoghan as he lumbered back to the lower quarters. The oxygen cannister helped, but he couldn’t afford to waste it.

The light thump of feet pulled his attention up, as he spotted a young worker flying around the corner, feet barely touching the floor with each step. Momentum nearly carried the scrawny man right into the wall.

“You dent that, and they’ll make you pay for it, Peter,” Eoghan warned.

“Not enough gravity for that. Forward momentum doesn’t carry much weight without, well, weight.” Peter gave a weak grin, tanned face flushed after the short run. “I heard you went into Blue. We all heard.”

Eoghan held up a hand, fingers still stained a sickly purple. “They caught it early. No need to worry.”

“Oxygen deprivation isn’t something to shrug off, Eoghan. It can have long-term health effects. Brain damage, nerve damage, heart palpitations –”

“A doctor already, Peter?” Eoghan joked, making his way past the younger man.

“I think the lesson ‘oxygen is good for you’ is less pre-med and more elementary school.” Peter retorted, following closely at Eoghan’s heel.

Eoghan smiled. Peter was twenty years younger than him and was still lanky and ungainly with youth.

“Look, a few of us have been talking…” Peter started, earning a cautious look from Eoghan. “People have been going into Blue every few weeks. Aren’t you tired of shuttling away bodies?”

Eoghan shifted his weight, grip tightening on the cannister. “The station can’t be held responsible if an individual doesn’t seek medical attention, kid.”

“This is a systematic problem!” argued Peter, cutting in front of Eoghan. “The station’s oxygen levels are too low. I’ve been monitoring it for a month now and – “

“Kid!” Eoghan cut him off, pointedly glancing up at the pinhole cameras that marked every intersection. “The station’s passed its inspections. That’s all we can say.”

Peter set his jaw stubbornly, thick black brows coming together to form a single unhappy line. “Self-assessments. If we get a third-party inspector, there’s no way that this station would pass muster.”

“Kid, you need to watch your trap before it gets you in trouble with the wrong sort.” Eoghan warned. “Andromeda would drop you without thinking twice, with a nice smear on your work history. Can’t get through University if you can’t pay the entry fee, right?”

“If I don’t suffocate here.”

“You’re not going to suffocate.”

“We’re all suffocating here, Eoghan! It’s not just me who notices. You remember what happened to Tamara? She went blue and didn’t make it ten hours. They knew she was going to die and just…”

Eoghan closed the distance between them. “Listen,” he said, barely even whispering, “your age isn’t doing you any favors here. You’re old enough to see the bugs in the system, but young enough to think there’s a patch incoming. But, kid, there are no bugs in Andromeda’s system. Only features that make Andromeda bigger and richer. The only bugs here are uppity workers, and you best believe they’ll stomp us out.”

“We’re not prisoners. They can’t get away with treating us like this!”

“No, we’re not,” Eoghan said wearily. “We’re worse than prisoners; we’re employees.”

The man was saying something, but the pain was back with a vengeance. Beads of sweat gathered on Eoghan’s forehead in spite of the chilly station air. He pressed the mask back in place, gulping down a few quick blasts of oxygen.

It took a moment to realize he was sitting on the floor, heart pounding in his ears.

“What will you do when that runs out?” Peter asked, in a softer voice.

“Not much I can do. I can’t afford another one.” Eoghan offered the man a wry grin. He didn’t get one back.

“You should just pay to get to the infirmary. If nothing else, you should do that for yourself.”

He shook his head, the room swimming around him. “If I save every credit, I’ll be just above the red line at the end of this contract.” With a smile, he touched a worn heart-shaped locket under his uniform. “My wife and I have been planning on having a kid. We’ve wanted to start our family together, but you know, can’t have kids if you’re under the poverty line.”

“That law is cruel.” Peter said softly, “it’s eugenics disguised as civil reform.”

“Not only a doctor but a politician? Your career is going to be an interesting one.”

Peter sank down the wall to sit down next to Eoghan. “They can’t fire all of us, if we take a stand together.”

“I assure you, they can.”

“Maybe, but it would be a bad look.” For a second Peter was quiet, fiddling with his long fingers. “We were thinking of pooling our credits for better life support. They can’t fire us if we pay for it, right?”

“It’s the principal of the thing, kid. They won’t let you twist their arm.”

“Maybe they won’t have a choice,” he muttered, pulling up his knees under his chin. “Won’t you at least come and meet with the rest of us in the morning? Just… listen. Let people see what the station does to us.”

Eoghan let out a long sigh, “I’ll listen,” he finally conceded. “I can do that much.”

---

There wasn’t much that counted as home on the station. Every worker had a small pod equipped with a narrow bunk, with just enough room to hang clothes on a hook at the foot of the bed and store a few small trinkets on a low shelf. With nowhere else to put it, Eoghan set the empty oxygen cannister on what little floorspace he had left.

The pod door sealed behind him and Eoghan shimmied his way into the bunk, and finally fished out the locket. It was a simple heart, the few engraved decorations worn away over the years. What was important, though, was that the clasp still worked, and he flipped it open with his thumb.

It took just a second for a familiar face to flicker to life, barely larger than the locket itself.

“Did production run late?” Aurora asked, looking concerned.

“Just talking to a coworker, love.”

She smiled and he felt closer to Earth than he had all week. They’d married young, but time didn’t strip Aurora of her beauty or Eoghan of his sense. He’d cross the galaxy to make her smile.

“Let me guess, the troublemaker?” She questioned, the lines around her mouth deepening. “Sounds like he ran your throat hoarse.”

“Peter’s a good kid. Just a little too young to be out here.” The headache was back, like hot needles driving their way into his skull. Black splotches danced in the corner of his vision, immune to his attempts to blink them away.

“Well, Peter can have your time the rest of the week. Right now, you’re all mine.” Aurora joked.

“Like you’ve never been a few minutes late before.” Snorted Eoghan. He regretted it immediately, the searing pain shooting through his skull. Luckily, the video feed only went one way, and she wouldn’t see his wince.

“I don’t have a set schedule!” she shot back. “Do I need to explain what ‘on-call’ means again?”

“Can’t be on-call when the baby comes,” he teased.

“That’s a few years off. If I kept working like this, I might get salary and be able to choose my schedule.” Her dark eyes sparkled, just the mention of a little one enough to bring back that grin.

“You’ll get there, love. They’ll –” He failed to smother a cough, leaving him gasping for whatever thin air he could gulp down.

“Eoghan? Eoghan!”

“I’m fine,” he tried to wheeze out. He barely managed to make a sound.

“What’s wrong? Are you sick? Can you breathe?” Aurora demanded, panic replacing her precious smile.

He fumbled for the cannister, hoping for one last blast of oxygen. It didn’t even give a hiss of air.

“I’m notifying the medical bay!”

“No!” He forced out. Every shallow breath burned his lungs. “Can’t afford it. The baby.”

“I need you more than a baby, Eoghan!”

“You don’t have to choose, love.” He promised weakly.

He ran his thumb against the edge of the locket, wishing that the projection was clearer. Aurora’s face was getting fuzzier by the second.

“I won’t lose you!” She insists, “the medical team is on their way. Just hold on a few minutes. Can you do that for me?”

“You’ll never get rid of me. I’ll always be right here.” Eoghan offered a grin she couldn’t see. “Let’s not talk about that. Let’s talk about the baby. Have you thought of any names?”

The thumping in his ears was getting slower.

Aurora sniveled softly. “Peter, if it’s a boy.”

He smiled. The kid would like that.

“Tell me more.”

Cold blue fingers cradled the locket. Labored breaths faded into silence broken by distant, static-filled sobs.

---

Come morning, a message waited for Aurora.

Mrs. Allen,

We regret to inform you that Eoghan Allen passed away at approximately 19:00 hours on March 5th. You have our condolences for your loss.

His death was the result of personal negligence and, as such, Andromeda Industries is seeking damages for the broken contract in the amount of 12,750 credits, plus the cost of his emergency medical treatment. Until this amount is paid in full, neither the employee’s body nor possessions shall be released.

A payment plan is included within these documents.

Cordially,

Andromeda Industries.