Slipping Along the Stars

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space or so they say.

I keep trying to get the attention of either or both of them. I can see the two of them, as they walk around in their white and blue environmentally controlled spacesuits. I am standing right in front of the glass shields of their space helmets. I bend and collect some sand and pebbles, from the ground, and throw a handful at them. The dust settles on my own boot, and I notice that not a single piece of it bounces off of their face shields. I have done this so many times, and with the same results. I suspect that I am in some sort of parallel space. I sit down in the sand and cry. This, too, is futile, but necessary.

I look up as the two spacemen pass by me on their way back to the rover. Their rover will take them back to the HAB, or portable habitat, about four miles away. They've been running tests and experiments and taking readings for about four hours. I don't know how long these guys will be on the planet and I am desperate to find a way to reach them.

I don't know what year this is, or how long I've been on this planet, Toby. The planet's name should be changed to Limbo, in my opinion. My trip here took 28 months and I was working on this planet for three days before I "slipped."

That's how I think of it now, that I slipped. Somehow I've slipped into an interstitial space that is not on the same plane as my crew mates. When I was originally lost, my crew mates looked for me for days. I saw them out here on the rover. I saw the determined looks on their serious faces, as they struggled with the conflict of doing their jobs and spending more time looking for me. I was, and am, lost to them, and yet, I've been here all along.

We were the first crew to land on the newly discovered planet, TOI1388b, discovered by a NASA intern in 2019, between the planets of Neptune and Saturn. NASA began planning a trip to Toby, as we call it, for short, nearly as soon as it was discovered. Orbiting two suns and almost seven times larger than the Earth, it was the perfect place to study gravity, orbital patterns, and electromagnetic forces. It hadn't been found for years as it had been hidden in the coronas of its two suns.

We were working in teams of two on separate projects on the newly landed planet. Sam and I were doing electromagnetic analysis, by zones, when we discovered an anomaly, on the third day. He and I split up as we found a spike and a pit in the readings, that seemed to be localized to several dozen meters. As Sam moved away on our laser-laid-out grid, I moved 180 degrees in the opposite direction. Sam said, " I've got two deviations off of our previous readings, here, Aly, and it's still increasing. What are you seeing?"

I replied, "Two? I'm at least 20 deviations, Sam. My read-outs are ping-ponging now from 20 to 10 deviations Wait, I'm now getting an error message. I'm not sure if it's my handheld, or if the readings are just off of the programmed chart parameters."

"Aly, can you hear me?, Sam said, " I only caught part of what you said."

"Yes, Sam, I read you loud and clear," I said, while still walking along our virtual straight line, with my back to Sam, and watching the display on my magnetometer. "Sam, this is crazy. We may have to go back to the HAB and check the calibration on my handheld. How is yours looking?"

I turned around and noticed that Sam was slowly turning in a circle, ignoring his machine, and obviously looking for something. As I watched Sam, I also began turning around, trying to discover what he was looking for.

"Sam," I said, "What are you looking for?" And, when, he didn't answer me, I asked, "Do you read me, Sam?"

I watched curiously as Sam turned another full circle, and holstered the magnetometer into his tool belt. When he faced me, I could see a worried look on his face. He reached up to his visor and changed the gold visor liner, which blocked some of the brightest rays, for a blue visor liner, which filtered out different rays and allowed others in. He kept turning in a slow circle, and I had to laugh at his attention to looking around. I turned and looked behind myself trying to figure out what he was looking for. But, except for the orange, yellow and beige sands and pebbles on the ground, there was nothing to see.

"Sam, " I said, "What are you looking for?" Sam, who was facing me, didn't even look at me, and no answer came.

Shit, I thought, the comms are out. I holstered my tools and carefully lifted my weighted, thermally insulated boot, to walk toward him. Walking to him was easy and I reached him in under five minutes. I stood in front of him, looked into his eyes, and mouthed, "can you hear me?"

Sam never acknowledged that he saw me. He took two steps toward me and I could see that he looked agitated and appeared to be yelling. He was waving his arms and I could tell that he was yelling my name. I reached out to touch his elbow. "Sam, I'm right here," I said. Sam's expression did not change. He did not hear me, nor feel my hand on his elbow. I was so close now that I could hear Sam shouting my name through the thick shell of his helmet.

I grabbed his hand. Nothing happened. I pushed at his shoulder and again there was no effect on Sam, or on his suit. I tried pulling on the holster of tools attached to his belt, but nothing happened. I could hear Sam, through his suit, talking to Brian in the HAB. I stood as close to Sam's side as I could and listened to him as he told Brian, "I don't know where she went. Aly hasn't called in? She was just right here."

Oh, I thought, that's a good idea. I toggled the switch to raise the HAB Communication center. "Brian, it's Aly. Can you hear me?" I am standing right in front of Sam and doesn't see me. I am right next to him."

No response came. I stood motionless for a while trying to think of what to do. As I watched Sam shut down the grid lines and continue to look for me. In frustration, I picked up a handful of pebbles and sand and threw it at Sam. The dirt pile fell to the ground beyond Sam, but never hit him.

I watched in dismay as Sam headed back to the rover. I hurried to catch up with him. He closed the door to the rover as I tried to open the passenger door. The latch would not lift and I could not open the door. I tried pounding on the door, but Sam never noticed. I watched, in horror, as the rover moved forward, turned, and headed back to the HAB. I stood in place and shouted.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm my racing heart and think of a plan. Would Sam come back for me? When? We weren't scheduled to be in this quadrant for more than one daylight session.

I looked at my oxygen reserve gauge and did the math. I could make it back to the HAB before dark. Even in the weighted boots and the bulky environmental suit, I could make it back easily, on my reserves. The terrain was dull but easy. Only one slight rise lay between me and the HAB. Maybe Brian would be looking for me, and see me once I cleared the top of the hill.

I headed out. I had walked for over a mile and stopped to sip some water. One more mile and maybe I'd be over the rise. I looked behind me. No big rocks or boulders to be seen nearby, or in the distance. Multi-colored sand for as far as I could see. No waves in the sand as there was no wind. Rover tracks were the only indicators of any movement. My boot prints would be here forever, I thought. Then, with a fear I had never felt before, I realized, that there were none. I lifted one foot to confirm the diamond patterned tread on the sole of the boot, designed specifically to be both antislip and anti-sinking, for the slippery sand of this planet's surface. Sam and I had noticed the tread marks we'd left, yesterday, in the west range quadrant. What the hell kind of place is this?

Panic rose up, in me, and I quickly pushed it down. I didn't spend two years of training hell to qualify for this mission, to be done in by this. Physics was physics. There had to be an explanation and I would figure it out when I got back. I moved forward and soon I could see the HAB. The rover parked in front of it was empty. Brian was standing in the window of the HAB, looking out. I waved my arms, trying to get his attention. He just kept looking.

As I trudged through the last mile, I thought the darkness interlude, nighttime, would be back soon. This planet had a short 8.5-hour day and an even shorter darkness cycle. We had to work when we had light.

Finally, at the HAB, I pulled on the lift bar to gain entry. I tried over and over, and it would not lift. I tried banging on the door, hoping that someone inside would hear me. No one came to open the door.

I went to the window where Brian was sitting and could see that he and Sam were in a heated discussion. I banged on the window, as I now stood right in front of them. Sam and he quit talking and my heart soared as Sam approached the window and peered out. I smiled at him. He looked right past me as if I was not there. I pounded the window, now, in anger and frustration.

Hours went by, as I tried all three again, the rover, the window, and the door. I sat down on the step to the HAB and put my head in my hands. I sat there for a long time, not knowing what else to do. I did think to check my oxygen reserves, after the long walk, and was afraid to find that I would run out, soon. To my shock and relief, I discovered that I still had plenty of air left, even after my hike back to the HAB. It was as if I wasn't breathing at all. Had I died? Cold fear once again gripped me, as I tried to make sense of where I was. I picked up a handful of sand, again. I could see the sand move. What strange zone was this, that I could move some things and not others? That I was here and alive, but not using up the oxygen.

Dark came and the stars came out. What a beautiful, but, lonely place I was in.