C2 – Scarlett
ground control to major tom
ground control to major tom
take your protein pills and put your helmet on
"Scarlett? Can you hear me, Scar?"
Jonah Matthew's voice was louder than usual, crackling from the bad reception. Scarlett nodded tearfully, and then realised he wasn't able to see.
"Yes." She hated the way her voice broke.
So did Jonah. It was his fault she was so upset, his fault she'd be attending his funeral in a few months. But he'd known what this job involved when he signed the papers, way back before he'd met his sweet, loving wife.
The whole office could hear their conversation, Jonah knew that, and he hoped for Scarlett's sake that they had the decency to pretend otherwise.
"I love you, Scar," he stated, then cleared his throat. Need to act brave, at least, he reminded himself. It was unusual for him to get so emotional.
"Jonah . . ."
She was going to say something, plead him to come back. He didn't want her to hurt any more than necessary.
"I'll miss you, Scarlett," he interrupted. "I'll . . . I'll be thinking of you."
The words unspoken left a feeling of dread in the air, and an invisible fist clenched Jonah's heart. What was he supposed to say? When I run out of air, or food, or water, whichever comes first, I'll be thinking off you as I die a painful death, all alone in a metal box millions of miles from those people I love? Something told him that they wouldn't be a wise choice of words.
Scarlett's voice was low, almost unemotional, as she replied, "I'll think of you every day until I die. I love you, Jonah."
"I love you."
And that was it. The line was cut. Jonah fought a feeling of sheer panic and claustrophobia as he realised he'd never so much as speak to his wife again. But then again, it had all been in the job description.
"Matthews? Matthews, do you read me?" A second voice, male. Dylan. His handler, as they called him. The only person he'd ever speak to again. The man he'd share his dying words with, whatever they may be.
Jonah felt an overwhelming urge to let out a primal scream. Instead, he simply answered, "Yeah Dyl, it's me. Everything's A-Okay up here."
"You ready for this, bro?"
He roughly translated this as 'Last chance to back down, mate. Are you really ready to sign the suicide contract?'
"I'm ready," he lied, hoping the blind panic in his head hadn't crept into his usually calm, quiet voice.
"Here we go, man. See you on the other side."
(TEN) ground control (NINE) to major tom (EIGHT) (SEVEN) (SIX)
commencing (FIVE) countdown, engines on (FOUR) (THREE) (TWO)
check ignition (ONE)
and may god's love (LIFT-OFF) be with you
Jonah had passed the Moon – his first proper milestone. He'd only been up here a few days, but already the little metal box was starting to feel like home.
He'd even sorted out a plan regarding Scarlett. He'd lock all his feelings into a big imaginary box in the day – not that day and night were prominent up here – and cry for her in the evenings until he fell asleep from exhaustion.
He passed on messages via Dylan, but wasn't allowed to speak to her because of the mission. He'd tell her little unimportant things – like reminding her of her three o'clock dentist appointment, or musing how the Earth resembled a swirly marble from this height. In return, she'd wish him luck and tell him about her latest promotion, or how the neighbour's cat had miraculous survived being run over by a bus.
Neither he nor Scarlett nor Dylan acknowledged the fact that the transmission was becoming gradually weaker. That one day soon he'd drift out of range. That from that day forwards, he'd have only the stars to talk to.