I returned to the Zvezda Service Module. Karpov was still at the communication station.
“Anything?” I asked him.
“Nyet.” He replied. “Just static.”
“Don’t we have a Ham radio on the station?” I asked. “Can’t we try that?”
“It’s been out of action for a few weeks.” He sighed. “It’s not considered a mission critical system, so we haven’t had replacement parts arranged yet.”
“Damn, it really would have been useful about now.” I told him. Karpov nodded before looking about us for a moment, ensuring we were alone.
“Look Carter.” He said quietly. “I’ve been meaning to have a discreet conversation with you. All of us know this is a dire situation. The rest of us have been trained to cope with potentially hopeless scenarios, but as a civilian, you don’t have that to fall back on now. You seem to be holding up pretty well so far, but I really need you to keep it together if it starts to overwhelm you. I think everyone’s hanging on by their fingernails at the moment, so the last thing we need is any one individual letting despair get the better of them and taking everyone else with them.” He paused for a moment, again checking no one else was within earshot. “If you need to let off some steam and get anything off your chest, you can come and talk to me.” Despite everything, I couldn’t help but feel amused at the thought of the big Russian as a counsellor.
“Mission Commander,” I grinned, “I didn’t know you had such a touchy-feely side.” Karpov smiled back, slightly embarrassed.
“You’re a good man, Carter.” He said. “Now get out of here.”
Day Two
Propelling myself through the Unity Node, I was about to enter the Destiny Lab when I heard heated voices within. Grasping a blue handle to slow myself, I paused for a moment and listened. It sounded like Morrison and Flynn.
“You keep those thoughts to yourself!” Morrison growled. “Jesus, you’ve been working with both of them for three months. They are our friends!”
“I don’t trust them.” Flynn retorted. “You mark my words, this is Russia’s doing.”
“We don’t know who started it down there.” Morrison said. “I don’t need to remind you that it has been over thirty years since the cold war ended! It could have been China, North Korea, Iran or any of the other nuclear powers. For God’s sake Chuck, for all we know, it might have been us that launched the first missiles!”
“How do we know that Karpov isn’t in communication with Moscow as soon as our backs are turned?” Flynn insisted. “They’re probably launching a Soyuz rocket right now with armed Cosmonauts with orders to throw you, me, Carter and Takako out of the nearest airlock!”
“Do you remember the mushroom clouds over Moscow, or the rest of Russia for that matter?” Morrison replied, exasperated. “Can you hear how paranoid you sound?” He paused, sighing deeply. “Do I need to be concerned about you, Chuck?”
“No. It’s just…”
“Look, we’re all feeling the pressure.” Morrison’s tone altered to a patient one. “I’m scared not knowing what’s happened down there, if my wife and kids are still alive or what’s going to happen to us, stranded up here. Hell, I woke up last night, my clothes dripping with sweat from nightmares about it all, but we’ve got to keep it together. We need each other more than ever. We’ve got to trust each other. Speculation on who did or didn’t start the war down there isn’t going to help and the last thing we need is for you to go Section 8 on us. Okay?” I could have heard a pin drop in the uncomfortable silence that followed.
“Okay.” Flynn reluctantly replied.
I waited a moment before pulling myself through into the module.
“Carter.” Flynn nodded, acknowledging my presence before pulling himself past me in the direction of the Russian segment.
“Hey Carter.” Morrison smiled brightly, his intense conversation of moments earlier effortlessly forgotten. “How are you?”
“Surviving.” I deadpanned.
“Yeah, well, keep hanging in there. We’ll all be okay.” I nodded, wondering if Morrison’s constant air of optimism in the face of adversity, whether sincere or not, was to be admired or derided.
Day Three
We all gathered together in the middle of the Zvezda Command Module.
“I think you can guess why I’ve called you all together.” Karpov began. “We have still had no contact from Earth whatsoever.”
“They really are all dead aren’t they?” I said quietly.
“Not necessarily.” Karpov replied, narrowing his eyes at me. “As Morrison mentioned before, a nuclear detonation releases an Electro-magnetic pulse that knocks out all electrical circuits within its radius. They may simply be unable to contact us at the moment.”
“Perhaps we should evacuate?” Aki suggested, looking at Karpov. “We have protocols in place for an emergency evacuation in our two Soyuz capsules. We can just get back to whatever’s left of home.” Karpov shook his head.
“The protocol is in place for an emergency evacuation from the station only if the station is catastrophically damaged. The station is not damaged.”
“Surely this is an extenuating circumstance?” Morrison said. “I’m all for doing my duty, but our survival has always got to be top priority.”
“I understand both my duty and my responsibility to this crew, but this is not the time for snap decisions.” Karpov replied testily. “You know as well as I, that even with the support of Mission Control, re-entry and landing is fraught with danger. Without them, we could burn up in the atmosphere, crash land, land in the middle of the ocean…”
“I’m not saying it would be easy.” Morrison interrupted, his eyes blazing, but maintaining a level tone. “But we have both been trained for this eventuality.”
“And if we do manage to survive a return to Earth, what then Lieutenant Colonel?” Karpov returned Morrison’s steady gaze. “We don’t know what the conditions are or what the level of fallout from the nuclear blasts has been. Do you really want to risk a hazardous journey home just to die of radiation sickness?” He paused for a moment looking at each of us in turn.
“This is not a democracy.” He said slowly and deliberately. “I am the Mission Commander and my decision is that we carry on our duties and wait for Mission Control to re-establish communication.”
“What do we do if everyone down there is dead or dying?” I asked. “They may never re-establish communication. We can’t stay up here forever.”
“Actually, we can stay here longer than you might think.” Flynn told me. “We can regenerate oxygen and water from air conditioning and waste. We have food not just for this expedition, but some left over from Expedition 78 and some for future expeditions. We have the hydroponics experiment to set up in Kibo, which we could adapt to give us some sustenance. We’re lucky in that it’s only two weeks since the last automated resupply vessel docked with the station. We have plenty of water, oxygen and food in there. If we’re careful, then we could survive here for over a year.”
“Then what?” I asked.
“Then we suffocate, die of thirst or die of hunger.” Flynn snapped.
“We still have the Soyuz capsules.” Aki mentioned. “If we still haven’t heard from Mission Control, we could evacuate as a last resort once our supplies run out?”
“I agree.” Karpov slowly nodded. “But in the meantime, we will continue our duties. I will continue to monitor communications.” He paused for a moment, his steely gaze passing to each of the others before settling on me. “Don’t lose hope. It’s only been three days. I’m sure that Mission Control is working around the clock to re-establish communication.” Perhaps it was my own pessimism, but Karpov’s words sounded hollow. I couldn’t hear any belief in his sentiment at all.