Chapter 2: In space no one can hear you die
Fifteen minutes before my worst concern had been my social life. Now I was frantically trying to remember the location of the emergency breathers.
Grampa was right. War changes your perceptions.
It was a good thing I did. Just as I worked out where the emergency supplies were, there was a sound like someone firing a lump of frozen nitro-glycerine through a metal pole. My ears rang and popped. The entire view-port, which had been polarised against sun glare so you couldn't see a thing through it, shattered and leaped away into space. I was glad I'd been sitting with my back to it; I seemed to be slammed back into the chair. Carpet burns were the least of my worries. I locked my legs against the pole of the chair and tried to find something to hang onto while I reached for the breathers. I was getting cold and holding my breath wasn't helping.
Thirty seconds in vacuum, if you exhale at the right time and close your eyes. Then you're dead.
I grabbed a breather and stuck it over my face. The seals adjusted and knitted over my head, slipping a little on my wet hair. I secured the strap around the back of my head and grabbed a handful.
Someone whipped past me out the window so fast I couldn't even flinch. I'd been hearing screaming for a while, but it faded next to the sounds of wind and fear. I hooked an arm around a table bolted in place and passed a breather to someone; I couldn't even see who. My eyes were blurring. Then someone slammed into me and I went flying. I slammed into the big coffee table in the middle of the room. Suddenly the window was down, and I was hanging awkwardly over an abyss with my midriff draped over a pole and the breath knocked out of me.
And Helena Bonham hanging onto my leg.
I dangled a hand down as best I could; she grabbed, missed, slipped, grabbed again and caught it. I tried to move so I wasn't so in danger of falling, but there wasn't room. The coffee table was too close to the ground to leave much room with my head draped down and nearly brushing the floor. I couldn't get any leverage to move, and my arm felt like it was about to part company with my shoulder. Helena's perfectly manicured nails were leaving bloody marks.
She had a breather on, marring her pretty features, and looked terrified. I could see her crying and saying something. I couldn't hear the words, but I knew anyway.
Don't let me die.
Help me.
Jesse was dropping towards me, holding onto a line made of cables. Stupid brave man. A loop of rope waved near my face - but to reach it, I'd have to drop Helena. He came as far as he could, but it wasn't enough. We had to get out of that section. I couldn't lift Helena up, and she couldn't climb up herself. If we didn't move soon, we'd die of cold; the air was all gone. I could feel the effects already.
She slipped a bit more and screamed. The sound vibration seemed to travel through every inch of me. The rope waved near my face, tantalisingly near and yet it might as well have been a kilometre away.
Jesse was yelling at me, I could see, but with one arm on the wrong side to grab the rope and Helena hanging onto the other and no way of moving that wouldn't send me off into space I was unable to do a damn thing.
I looked at Helena. She'd been alright, for a rich snob. Fairly polite, even if it was grudging, and she'd helped me with my literature classes. I'd helped her with her mathematics. She'd never treated me like scum simply because I was poor. Barring Jesse, she'd been the closest thing to a friend I had at Northwood.
Her nails slipped, leaving me only holding onto her fingers. She screamed again, like a dying horse. My fingers cramped and my arm ached; I felt I might have sprained something. The blood from her fingernail-marks was turning into red ice on my arm.
I didn't want to die.
I let go.
She screamed again and fell away and out into the black space. Something flashed past, a wing-shaped blur meeting an orange light - a Cylon had just been destroyed. I could hear her scream echoing in my head even though it had cut off the instant I'd stopped touching her.
In space no one can hear you scream.
I looked up and grabbed the cable. They'd put a loop in it; I worked a leg through it and hung on with both hands while they hauled me in. Around a corner the world seemed to spin through ninety degrees, and the floor was again the floor. We ran for the nearest airlock between sections.
I knew I'd never forget Helena's scream, or the look of sheer horror on Jesse's face I'd seen as I passed him. The others hadn't seen, but he had. She hadn't slipped, she hadn't chosen to let me live - I'd dropped her. Deliberately. I'd killed her to save my own life.
I told myself that without her weight I could live. With it we'd both die.
I could feel the air around me warming me, like a hot bath. Blood started trickling down my arms again. There was ice in my hair. My skin ached.
It had been logical, perfectly logical, the only practical solution. It hurt. I'd never forget it.
In space no one can hear you die.
Fifteen minutes before my worst concern had been my social life. Now I was frantically trying to remember the location of the emergency breathers.
Grampa was right. War changes your perceptions.
It was a good thing I did. Just as I worked out where the emergency supplies were, there was a sound like someone firing a lump of frozen nitro-glycerine through a metal pole. My ears rang and popped. The entire view-port, which had been polarised against sun glare so you couldn't see a thing through it, shattered and leaped away into space. I was glad I'd been sitting with my back to it; I seemed to be slammed back into the chair. Carpet burns were the least of my worries. I locked my legs against the pole of the chair and tried to find something to hang onto while I reached for the breathers. I was getting cold and holding my breath wasn't helping.
Thirty seconds in vacuum, if you exhale at the right time and close your eyes. Then you're dead.
I grabbed a breather and stuck it over my face. The seals adjusted and knitted over my head, slipping a little on my wet hair. I secured the strap around the back of my head and grabbed a handful.
Someone whipped past me out the window so fast I couldn't even flinch. I'd been hearing screaming for a while, but it faded next to the sounds of wind and fear. I hooked an arm around a table bolted in place and passed a breather to someone; I couldn't even see who. My eyes were blurring. Then someone slammed into me and I went flying. I slammed into the big coffee table in the middle of the room. Suddenly the window was down, and I was hanging awkwardly over an abyss with my midriff draped over a pole and the breath knocked out of me.
And Helena Bonham hanging onto my leg.
I dangled a hand down as best I could; she grabbed, missed, slipped, grabbed again and caught it. I tried to move so I wasn't so in danger of falling, but there wasn't room. The coffee table was too close to the ground to leave much room with my head draped down and nearly brushing the floor. I couldn't get any leverage to move, and my arm felt like it was about to part company with my shoulder. Helena's perfectly manicured nails were leaving bloody marks.
She had a breather on, marring her pretty features, and looked terrified. I could see her crying and saying something. I couldn't hear the words, but I knew anyway.
Don't let me die.
Help me.
Jesse was dropping towards me, holding onto a line made of cables. Stupid brave man. A loop of rope waved near my face - but to reach it, I'd have to drop Helena. He came as far as he could, but it wasn't enough. We had to get out of that section. I couldn't lift Helena up, and she couldn't climb up herself. If we didn't move soon, we'd die of cold; the air was all gone. I could feel the effects already.
She slipped a bit more and screamed. The sound vibration seemed to travel through every inch of me. The rope waved near my face, tantalisingly near and yet it might as well have been a kilometre away.
Jesse was yelling at me, I could see, but with one arm on the wrong side to grab the rope and Helena hanging onto the other and no way of moving that wouldn't send me off into space I was unable to do a damn thing.
I looked at Helena. She'd been alright, for a rich snob. Fairly polite, even if it was grudging, and she'd helped me with my literature classes. I'd helped her with her mathematics. She'd never treated me like scum simply because I was poor. Barring Jesse, she'd been the closest thing to a friend I had at Northwood.
Her nails slipped, leaving me only holding onto her fingers. She screamed again, like a dying horse. My fingers cramped and my arm ached; I felt I might have sprained something. The blood from her fingernail-marks was turning into red ice on my arm.
I didn't want to die.
I let go.
She screamed again and fell away and out into the black space. Something flashed past, a wing-shaped blur meeting an orange light - a Cylon had just been destroyed. I could hear her scream echoing in my head even though it had cut off the instant I'd stopped touching her.
In space no one can hear you scream.
I looked up and grabbed the cable. They'd put a loop in it; I worked a leg through it and hung on with both hands while they hauled me in. Around a corner the world seemed to spin through ninety degrees, and the floor was again the floor. We ran for the nearest airlock between sections.
I knew I'd never forget Helena's scream, or the look of sheer horror on Jesse's face I'd seen as I passed him. The others hadn't seen, but he had. She hadn't slipped, she hadn't chosen to let me live - I'd dropped her. Deliberately. I'd killed her to save my own life.
I told myself that without her weight I could live. With it we'd both die.
I could feel the air around me warming me, like a hot bath. Blood started trickling down my arms again. There was ice in my hair. My skin ached.
It had been logical, perfectly logical, the only practical solution. It hurt. I'd never forget it.
In space no one can hear you die.