Outer Space: Silence. A spring mechanism pushes the Soyuz away from the Station. Slowly, very slowly. The Spacecraft is made out of three modules - the engine, the control cabin, and the airlock at the front. Inside the control cabin and now detached from the Space Station, the rumbling has ceased, leaving only the gentle hum of the cabin. The distance between the Soyuz and the Docking Module grows little by little as the vessel drifts away from it.
Ryan sits tensely and checks the manual and she presses different buttons, bringing to life a new set of systems. She grabs the joysticks with her hand, and the lateral thrusters give a small thrust, and as the spacecraft
moves away from the Station it drags its parachute, which floats lifelessly in space. Another bigger thrust, and as the Soyuz pulls away from the Station, the parachute�s ropes tense, and a big jolt. Her seat belts prevent her from being projected forward as the Soyuz is pulled to a sudden stop.
Ryan is very confused, unaware of the reason for the sudden stop. She looks at the periscope. The Station is drifting out of the scope�s sight. She turns to the porthole and through the glass she sees that the Station is coming straight at her and it looks as though they're about to collide. She presses the joystick. The Soyuz is two meters away from the Station, about to crash, when the soft jets ignite, launching the vessel upwards.
The Soyuz skims just over the Docking Module and passes three inches away from the solar panels, barely avoiding a collision with the metal giant. And as the Soyuz drifts upwards, the Station passes under it. Now Ryan can see through the porthole, the parachute is tangled with a solar panel and the ropes are tensing up, and she's shaken by a new pull. The Soyuz stabilizes over the Station, the parachute entwined with the solar panel. She looks out at the porthole.
The rope extends from the cabin to the parachute tangled with the Station. Silence. The Station hovers below the Soyuz like a large whale swimming beneath a tiny lifeboat. The hatch of the Soyuz opens. Ryan comes out of the craft into space. She�s wearing the space suit she packed. She holds onto handles as she floats, safely tethered to the inside of the cabin. She looks around - The International Space Station is a looming presence floating ten meters below. It is pulling the Soyuz by its parachute.
An alarm on her stopwatch rings. It�s been 85 minutes. She turns the alarm off and looks around . . . and remarks, "Clear skies but with a chance of satellite debris." She hums a song, the tune is reminiscent of the Hank Williams Melody that Matt had played earlier. She begins to climb around the vessel. With plenty of oxygen in her pressurized suit, this is not a difficult task. She pulls herself from handle to handle, making her way around the Soyuz and reaching the parachute container. An impact has blown open the cover.
Three ropes float out of the container into space. Three meters away from the vessel each rope branches into dozens of parachute strings. Next to it, second cover is also badly damaged. Harnessing herself to a handle, she inspects the ropes. The three ropes are bolted to the container�s frame. She resumes her humming, louder this time. She takes out the pistol grip tool and places it against the first bolt, stretching her arm into the parachute container.
It is an awkward position. She pulls the trigger and the drill rotates, turning the bolt, but it slides out of the notch. She places the tool once more against the bolt and pulls the trigger. The drill rotates, slower this time. She hums under her breath and sweat begins to drop down her forehead. She is very focused, unaware that behind her, debris hit's the Station's solar panel, piercing holes through it. The bolt comes off. As it floats off into space, Ryan drops the pistol grip and uses both hands to detach the rope from the frame.
The rope floats away from the Soyuz, undulating like a long snake, but Ryan notices that the Pistol Grip is also floating away. She stretches her arm trying to catch it, but it is out of her reach. She pushes herself towards the pistol grip, and barely manages to grab onto it when she sees the tide of debris is floating straight at her. She pulls herself back to the container. Dozens of pieces of debris pass, zooming less than thirty meters away from the Station.
A tiny piece of high-speed debris crashes against one of the Station�s Solar panels, shattering it and causing the Station to tremble. More debris hits the station, it crashes in silence against one of its modules, creating a hole the size of a car wheel. The vacuum sucks flames from the station that quickly die without oxygen to consume. Ryan brings the pistol-grip to the second bolt and pulls the trigger. The bolt spins. Ryan is humming louder and louder.
Ryan stares intently at the head of the bolt turning as the debris zooms by behind her. The second bolt comes off. She quickly pulls the rope loose from the frame and lets it float away. Shaken by the impacts, the Space Station drags the Soyuz with it. She braces herself as debris wreaks havok. SOme pieces hit the Station, others crash against one another. Each collision creates more debris that ricochet and fly away in all directions. The Soyuz is pulled by the remaining parachute rope, as the Station spins out of control.
Ryan starts humming even louder, the bravado is full tilt now. Her face is now covered in sweat, which pours into her eyes, making it difficult to see as she unscrews the last bolt. Behind her, a cluster of debris pierces the parachute. Ryan continues drilling as more debris hits the station. It crashes against the Japanese Lab, which silently explodes into millions of pieces. The pieces expand away from the Station. The last bolt comes off. Ryan manages to unhook the rope, freeing the Soyuz from the collapsing Space Station.
She braces herself against the vessel, as she sees the Soyuz is heading straight towards the Station�s Solar Panels. The Soyuz� Solar Panel collides with the Station�s, shattering into smaller pieces of debris that almost hit Ryan. The Soyuz spins away as more debris hits the station. Ryan watches as a succession of satellite fragments pepper the slowly revolving Station segments.
As the segments crumble, colliding with additional debris, the fragments glimmer magnificently then join the thinning tide of debris orbiting toward the dark side of the Earth. All of a sudden . . . everything is calm. She pauses, blinking into the suddenly empty distance. Her gaze remains fixed on the mass of debris what was once the space station, drifting away from her as she comments, "I hate space."
Control Cabin: A symphony of alarms shrieks loudly. The hatch flies open and a helmet floats in, followed quickly by Ryan. She takes a breath and begins fastening the seat belt. She presses different buttons, and with each a voice of the alarm symphony dies until they are completely silent. She puts on the communication headset and resets the stopwatch. She checks the temperature gauge. She exhales, the plume of her hot breath hanging briefly in the frigid cabin air before evaporating. She takes the joystick.
Ryan looks focused at the periscope where the western horizon comes into frame and nears the center crosshair. A small dot glimmers in the distance - the Chinese Station. She reports to Houston in the blind that Tiangong is approximately 100km� to the west and she is off it's course by about 13 degrees, requiring her to correct trajectory. She moves the Joystick, and the crosshair readjusts. She releases the safety lock and places her finger on the button. Ryan engages the main thrust, releasing the safety lock, she pushes on the button.
The Soyuz floats with its nose directed towards a bright star on the horizon, the Chinese Station, but . . . nothing, not even a small flame, comes out of its back thrusters. Ryan waits, expectantly, and gives the button a new push, but nothing. The thruster won�t ignite. The vessel remains motionless, orbiting over the Pacific which is already under night�s dark veil. She pushes again, and again, and again, but nothing. The Soyuz stays in place.
Ryan looks at the fuel gauge - 30 percent. She taps on it and the frozen needle drops to empty. Ryan stares in disbelief, "You gotta be kidding me." She bangs down on the control panel in frustration. Inside the capsule, through the portal, Ryan hits and hits, bouncing around the confined space of the cabin and venting all her anger, until she herself is out of fuel. She grabs the radio and repeats calls to Houston in the blind. The sun sets. A magical cosmic act.
As the sun nears the edge of the Earth, the atmosphere brightens, shining with a luminous orange light that is reflected off the surface of the Pacific Ocean. At the Soyuz�s orbiting speed this does not last long. The sun quickly dips behind the edge of the Earth and the whole face of the planet is in shadow.
The vessel is almost lost in the deep black of night. Fluorescent green light pours out of the porthole, like a lonely firefly lost in the deep of night. Outside the Aurora Borealis performs its ghostly dance over the Earth�s Northern Hemisphere.
And the night has brought with it its cold grip. Ryan shivers and her voice is now weak, but she continues
searching for help, repeating her calls to Houston. Finally, a sound surfaces through the static: a crackling. This glimmer of hope gives her a new burst of energy. She attempts to tune into the frequency, turning one of the control panel�s dials. She frowns. Fragmented words emerge through the static, "Han... ni... ts..." She turns the dial slowly, clinging desperately to the wavering thread of communication.
Words burst forth, ringing clear as a bell for a moment, "Hannik ya itc... pini." Ryan blinks. The transmission is not in English. She asks if this the Chinese Station. As she tunes in a faint voice is distinguished. It doesn�t appear to be in Chinese either, "Hannic ya itcitem pini! Uumaruq taigaa!" Ryan repeats Mayday. The voice on the transmission appears to be a man in a very jovial mood. He keeps laughing. The hoarse laughing of an man rises through the static, "Aningang." She asks if that is his name.
She starts to speak again but the glimmer of hope fades from her face with the realization that this man does not understand her plea. A noise in the background makes Ryan smile. The barking of several dogs can be heard behind the man�s voice. She listens to the man�s laughing voice, shakes her head helplessly and sighs. "Make your dogs bark again, Aningang," she asks. She makes barking noises. The man begins to laugh and barks back at her. Ryan begins to howl, giving in to the mad joy of it all.
Moments later, through the radio, she is joined by a chorus of canines. Ryan smiles, blissfully happy, howling with abandon. Each howling reaches deeper and is more cathartic, unlocking emotions that have been festering over time, and tears roll from her eyes, clear as crystals, spilling from her lashes and floating into the air, glimmering like sapphires in the cool moonlight. They float away, like tiny satellites orbiting her face.
Aningang can be heard intermittently, yelling, as if trying to silence the dogs. Then the dogs, one by one, cease their wailing and Ryan is left with nothing but her own voice. She realizes she is going to die. The static breaks and Aningang�s husky voice begins singing. The tune is lyrical and soothing, tinged with a touch of melancholy. She's saddened that no one will mourn her or pray for her soul.
Ryan listens to Aningang�s melody and smiles softly, closing her eyes. Ryan�s face grows slack as she drifts toward unconsciousness, buoyed along on Aningang�s sad soulful song. Then a sputtering cry cuts through the static. A baby. Ryan is transfixed, listening to the gentle gurgle of the baby as Aningang coos to it, then begins to sing again.
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