As they drift amongst the metal shards of their small craft, those fragments almost seem to mingle with distant stars. And this apparent convergence, like salt grains, forms their perilous backdrop. That very curtain, of course, being the extensive void of space itself. Their mission – a gander, an investigation of sorts, was to acquire clues to an unusual disappearance of vessels within this small portion of space. The pair had been chosen to utilize their skills for this outing, with his scientifically investigative mind and her proficiency at signal interception. A shuttlecraft had been acquired, whilst their ship had remained in a neighbouring star system, with studies of its own to tend. This seemingly meagre outing had eventually gone awry – with a gradual failure of the shuttle's systems.

With a blast imminent, EV suits had been donned and their craft abandoned.

ooo

Whilst she had attempted to shield him, so in turn had he tried to shield her, and their forms had veiled one another from the explosion. It seems that, however, the Vulcan's suit had fared worse from the blast than that of his companion. To her distress, he is currently unable to breathe. It seems that the tank from which oxygen is provided to his suit had endured some degree of damage.

With air draining from his suit, there is nothing at which he can gasp. In a moment's fraction, the Lieutenant shifts a hand to a portion of her own suit, in order to render aid.

"Spock!", the comms line between their suits crackles as she speaks, thankfully the damage is rather negligible, "My tank is still working...I'm sharing my oxygen with you."

A connection is made with a muted click, and their suits are joined by cylindrical tubing, with vital oxygen wafting between them. It takes only a moment or two, but at last the Vulcan breathes once more.

"Thank...you..."

"I know I don't need to tell you, but just breathe, okay?", her tone is sympathetic as she speaks, warm and with a kind of hope. And a relief that they are, indeed, both alive. "We'll be alright."

No further word is uttered from him as his breaths return to some form of normalcy, and the pair silently begin to formulate a means for their escape from the debris field. Indeed, the shockwave emanating from the blast had propelled them from the shuttle itself, but their position within the field still makes their escape rather difficult.

Soon, their forms begin to swivel, in a strange pirouette, almost fluid as if it were a kind of dance. Whereas moments ago, the shockwave had caused them to move in a mildly similar fashion, it had been slow and not of their own will. Now, however, the dance that is made by them is a tad faster and more controlled. Their depth within the debris, and the extent thereof, still makes the journey to their freedom quite a lengthy one. This airless dance may just shorten the duration of their venture...with time limited by dwindling oxygen, that is their hope, at least.

ooo

Time seems eternal as they listlessly drift through their dark void. The debris field has at last gained some distance from them, yet still not quite enough for an unhindered communique. This departure from the cloud of fractured metal has indeed been rather...slow. To move at all is progress in itself, yes, but time is a vital component.

Soon, there begins the rise of a conundrum, a hitch in their perilous journey. A hurdle to their escape. The Lieutenant's oxygen tank, whilst already not at full capacity and which the Vulcan now shares, has shown the distinct signs of depletion. With her own vital air beginning to dwindle, all manner of hope seems to follow in its wake. Uhura of course dutifully pays no heed to it, her mind still brimmed with the sole intent of their joint survival. And yet, that survival has now become impeded.

And now, there comes a choice for the Vulcan: to remain with her, and diminish their odds of rescue; or, to free her, to propel her away from him and the debris so that she may transmit a communique to their ship...to further her longevity.

All options are mulled over by him, and in moments, a choice is made.

"What are you doing?", her hand, in a vain attempt, makes a grasp for the tubing joining their suits. That very line of oxygen that she had shared with him, and he is now disconnecting from his own.

"I am...giving you the best possible chance."

"But you'll suffocate!" Still, she tries to grab the line, to save him, and still he halts her.

"Your survival is...much more important...than my own."

Whilst she grapples with him, her line is reunited with her suit, and his gloved hands grasp at her shoulders.

"Wait!"

At once, her entire form is propelled by him, and they soon drift apart. No matter how desperately she flails her limbs at the black void, to try and bring herself closer to him, she simply cannot move. As the distance between them grows, she can't do anything but watch with teary eyes whilst he begins to suffocate.

"You'll die..."