Murmansk-13

“What?” Diego’s voice was an octave too high.

“You have a hard-on for Tala,” a flashover of anger swept across Hernandez face as he spoke, then a cheeky grin. He did a mock jig beside the communications console, his movements limited by his EVA suit, his voice stiff. “Diego loves Tala, Diego loves Tala.”

“Fuck you.” Diego concealed his face behind the manual.

“She’s a dyke man,” Hernandez heckling tone quietened, he glanced away as if distracted. Ensuring Tala wasn’t near. “A fucking bull dyke at that.”

“Just because she won’t sleep with you, Hernandez, doesn’t make her a dyke.” Diego resisted the urge to grind his teeth.

Hernandez didn’t initially reply, his mood briefly sombre. “No,” he said, letting the word hang in the air, then his braying cocky swagger returned. “Having sex with women does.”

Diego thumped the manual down on the desk. He was about to explain how Tala had spoken to him in confidence that that had been an experiment when the elevator pinged open again, this time dispensing Nilsen, Stewart and the cadet onto the bridge.

“Whatever you’re doing, Hernandez,” Nilsen said impatiently. “Stop it.”

Hernandez took as large a side step as he could manage in the EVA suit and stood to an approximation of attention. Diego slinked back into the soft leather chair and tried to look anonymous.

“Plan today gents is to take a look at that communications array,” Nilsen said. “The Captain is steadfast that he wants to go into that station and while I have my reservations, the best we can do is try to get ship-to-ship working again. So concentrate on the VHF antenna. If time permits we’ll take a look at the Hi-beam and laser.”

Stewart and the cadet drew beside Hernandez, Stewart looked down at Diego who was still aimlessly shuffling and rearranging papers. “You okay with all this?”

The question hadn’t been posed condescendingly, but Diego couldn’t help but feel he was being patronized. Stewart was four years younger than him and his senior.

A senior, but not a specialist like him.

“Fine,” Diego replied laconically. In truth he seethed not simply because he felt depreciated by his colleagues, but that he’d lapsed in his studies to the point they had every right to undervalue and question him. Was he okay with all the equipment? He doubted it. A knot of anxiety swelled in his gut.

Stewart nodded and smiled. Patting Diego on the back he said, “I’m sure you’ll put me out of a job.”

Diego’s mouth formed a taut line. Hernandez giggled. At that moment Diego hated Stewart.

“Will you stop fiddling with that?” Nilsen asked, walking up to the cadet. “I thought you said you’d EVA’d before.”

“It’s been a while, sir. I did a course.” Aidan was struggling to attach his Primary Life Support System umbilical to the port in his suit. The umbilical’s all had matching colour coordinated ports.

Nilsen plugged the backpack into the port, exasperated. “Red goes into red, not blue. Without this plugged in, you don’t breathe. Can. You. EVA?”

“Yes, sir.” Aidan shuffled awkwardly, unaccustomed to the weight of the suit and the focus of the Chief Engineers ire.

“His internal comms jack is unplugged as well,” Diego said, keen to deflect his own shortcomings.

“Fuck sake,” Nilsen rearranged the jacks on the cadets suit, battering his maladroit movements out of the way. “You’re on tool watch. If they lose a damn single instrument up there I’ll make sure to find a way to put you back in cryo.”

“Yes, sir.” Aidan replied meekly.

“Try not to die out there,” Nilsen gave the cadet a withering glance as he stepped back. “Stewart make sure he doesn’t detach himself.”

“Will do, Chief.”

“I want you to check in with Diego every fifteen minutes, internal comms seem to be working. Stewart, you’re in charge topside, Diego you’re in charge onboard,” Nilsen paused as if running sentences through his head. “If any of you feel unwell out there. Don’t hesitate to back out.”

After a moments further contemplation and apparently satisfied with his brief, Nilsen nodded to Stewart and returned to the elevator without another word.

“That was odd,” Stewart said, looking at the closed elevator doors.

“Never seen the Chief so strung out,” replied Hernandez as he made the final checks on his suit. “Guess he and the Captain are starting to realise how fucked they are.”

“He’s probably just worried these old suits might not pressurize properly.” Stewart nudged Hernandez, smiling.

“Is that likely?” Asked the cadet, his permanent wide-eyed expression replaced with one of panic.

“Nah, not likely,” said Hernandez, still grinning. “Yours is definitely fucked.”

Hernandez and Stewart laughed. Aidan grimaced. It must be nice for Stewart to play on the naivety of the cadet thought Diego. How quickly some forget where they came from.

If only he could forget where he had come from, Diego mused as he watched his three colleagues enter the airlock.

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