Decembers 21st, 2352. Today will go down in the history textbooks – that is, if there are every history textbooks again. I look down from my small window onto Earth, uncontrollable tears streaming from my eyes. The explosions have been going off for the past two or three hours. It’s a bit hard to keep up with all the news and politics from Earth up in this floating piece of metal, but we, the scientists of the International Space Station, had still been kept up to date on the rising international tensions.
Barely six hours ago, Houston radioed in, and the American head of operations frantically filled us in on the events of the last ten or so hours. That was when we found out that stuff was going to get dangerous. Before we ever left the Earth, we had been trained about how to act in emergency situations – international space warfare, for example. But that was just training and fake simulations – now was the real thing.
“Wylie? Wylie!” Thea’s voice broke the silence. I smiled – after the depression that I had seen below me, Thea’s voice was the only thing that could have made me smile. She strode into the room, looking concerned. “It’ll be fine,” she comforted me. “NASA’ll give us the signal to leave any moment now, and we’ll be back home.”
“What if home’s not safe either?” I softly stammered out. “What if this is the real end? The World War 3? The nuclear apocalypse? What if we’re all doomed?” I cried out.
“We’re not,” she responded, a sad glint in her eyes. “We’re going to go home and be heroes for all the research we’ve done. And then we’ll buy a little cabin in the middle of nowhere and wait the war out. It’ll be perfect.”
Suddenly, a looming shape blocked the light from the window. “A rocket…” I whispered. “What’s it doing here?”
“Russian!” Thea exclaimed, pointing to the flag painted on its side. “Crap!”
Our eyes locked. “Yusif!” we exclaimed in unison. He was the only Russian left on the ISS, and the only one likely to know what was going on. As we sprinted to the Russian side of the Space Station, I grabbed a kitchen knife – not a deadly weapon, but better than nothing. We burst into his quarters, where he too was staring out at the rocket, melancholy in his eyes.
I grabbed him by the collar, exclaiming, “Why are they here?”
He didn’t resist, simply sighing. “They called in this morning. They’re going to take the ISS for themselves.”
"They wouldn’t dare!” I snarled. He simply shrugged in response.
“Nothing I can do about it.”
“Well, we won’t let you open the airlock,” Thea put in. “They’ll never get in without cutting something, and they know that they could blow the place up if they do.”
“Then they’ll blow the place up anyways, from the outside. I’m sorry, really. I told them not to, but I can’t stop them.” Yusif responded resignedly.
A plan was forming in my mind. “Yusif, what if we all just leave in the U.S. rocket? We were supposed to go sometime today anyways! It’ll be perfect.”
He grunted in response. “You guys go. I’m going to stay and let them in – otherwise I’ll be killed when we get back on land anyways.”
“Nonsense,” I muttered to myself, shanking him unconscious with my kitchen knife. “Let’s go, Thea. We can make sure they don’t hurt him.”
We rushed preparations, stopping to let NASA Houston know we were leaving. Though we were supposed to wai...
Decembers 21st, 2352. Today will go down in the history textbooks – that is, if there are every history textbooks again. I look down from my small window onto Earth, uncontrollable tears streaming from my eyes. The explosions have been going off for the past two or three hours. It’s a bit hard to keep up with all the news and politics from Earth up in this floating piece of metal, but we, the scientists of the International Space Station, had still been kept up to date on the rising international tensions.
Barely six hours ago, Houston radioed in, and the American head of operations frantically filled us in on the events of the last ten or so hours. That was when we found out that stuff was going to get dangerous. Before we ever left the Earth, we had been trained about how to act in emergency situations – international space warfare, for example. But that was just training and fake simulations – now was the real thing.
“Wylie? Wylie!” Thea’s voice broke the silence. I smiled – after the depression that I had seen below me, Thea’s voice was the only thing that could have made me smile. She strode into the room, looking concerned. “It’ll be fine,” she comforted me. “NASA’ll give us the signal to leave any moment now, and we’ll be back home.”
“What if home’s not safe either?” I softly stammered out. “What if this is the real end? The World War 3? The nuclear apocalypse? What if we’re all doomed?” I cried out.
“We’re not,” she responded, a sad glint in her eyes. “We’re going to go home and be heroes for all the research we’ve done. And then we’ll buy a little cabin in the middle of nowhere and wait the war out. It’ll be perfect.”
Suddenly, a looming shape blocked the light from the window. “A rocket…” I whispered. “What’s it doing here?”
“Russian!” Thea exclaimed, pointing to the flag painted on its side. “Crap!”
Our eyes locked. “Yusif!” we exclaimed in unison. He was the only Russian left on the ISS, and the only one likely to know what was going on. As we sprinted to the Russian side of the Space Station, I grabbed a kitchen knife – not a deadly weapon, but better than nothing. We burst into his quarters, where he too was staring out at the rocket, melancholy in his eyes.
I grabbed him by the collar, exclaiming, “Why are they here?”
He didn’t resist, simply sighing. “They called in this morning. They’re going to take the ISS for themselves.”
"They wouldn’t dare!” I snarled. He simply shrugged in response.
“Nothing I can do about it.”
“Well, we won’t let you open the airlock,” Thea put in. “They’ll never get in without cutting something, and they know that they could blow the place up if they do.”
“Then they’ll blow the place up anyways, from the outside. I’m sorry, really. I told them not to, but I can’t stop them.” Yusif responded resignedly.
A plan was forming in my mind. “Yusif, what if we all just leave in the U.S. rocket? We were supposed to go sometime today anyways! It’ll be perfect.”
He grunted in response. “You guys go. I’m going to stay and let them in – otherwise I’ll be killed when we get back on land anyways.”
“Nonsense,” I muttered to myself, shanking him unconscious with my kitchen knife. “Let’s go, Thea. We can make sure they don’t hurt him.”
We rushed preparations, stopping to let NASA Houston know we were leaving. Though we were supposed to wait a few hours, it was an emergency.
Finally, we were ready to leave. I stared wistfully at what had been my home and lab for the last seven months, and then turned sharply. Checking my comms for the last time, I boarded the rocket. And then we were gone.
I think it might make more sense as "knocking him unconscious with the butt of my knife" or something of the sort. Shanking makes it sound like he stabbed the Russian to me.
Decembers 21st, 2352. Today will go down in the history textbooks – that is, if there are every history textbooks again. I look down from my small window onto Earth, uncontrollable tears streaming from my eyes. The explosions have been going off for the past two or three hours. It’s a bit hard to keep up with all the news and politics from Earth up in this floating piece of metal, but we, the scientists of the International Space Station, had still been kept up to date on the rising international tensions.
Barely six hours ago, Houston radioed in, and the American head of operations frantically filled us in on the events of the last ten or so hours. That was when we found out that stuff was going to get dangerous. Before we ever left the Earth, we had been trained about how to act in emergency situations – international space warfare, for example. But that was just training and fake simulations – now was the real thing.
“Wylie? Wylie!” Thea’s voice broke the silence. I smiled – after the depression that I had seen below me, Thea’s voice was the only thing that could have made me smile. She strode into the room, looking concerned. “It’ll be fine,” she comforted me. “NASA’ll give us the signal to leave any moment now, and we’ll be back home.”
“What if home’s not safe either?” I softly stammered out. “What if this is the real end? The World War 3? The nuclear apocalypse? What if we’re all doomed?” I cried out.
“We’re not,” she responded, a sad glint in her eyes. “We’re going to go home and be heroes for all the research we’ve done. And then we’ll buy a little cabin in the middle of nowhere and wait the war out. It’ll be perfect.”
Suddenly, a looming shape blocked the light from the window. “A rocket…” I whispered. “What’s it doing here?”
“Russian!” Thea exclaimed, pointing to the flag painted on its side. “Crap!”
Our eyes locked. “Yusif!” we exclaimed in unison. He was the only Russian left on the ISS, and the only one likely to know what was going on. As we sprinted to the Russian side of the Space Station, I grabbed a kitchen knife – not a deadly weapon, but better than nothing. We burst into his quarters, where he too was staring out at the rocket, melancholy in his eyes.
I grabbed him by the collar, exclaiming, “Why are they here?”
He didn’t resist, simply sighing. “They called in this morning. They’re going to take the ISS for themselves.”
"They wouldn’t dare!” I snarled. He simply shrugged in response.
“Nothing I can do about it.”
“Well, we won’t let you open the airlock,” Thea put in. “They’ll never get in without cutting something, and they know that they could blow the place up if they do.”
“Then they’ll blow the place up anyways, from the outside. I’m sorry, really. I told them not to, but I can’t stop them.” Yusif responded resignedly.
A plan was forming in my mind. “Yusif, what if we all just leave in the U.S. rocket? We were supposed to go sometime today anyways! It’ll be perfect.”
He grunted in response. “You guys go. I’m going to stay and let them in – otherwise I’ll be killed when we get back on land anyways.”
“Nonsense,” I muttered to myself, shanking him unconscious with my kitchen knife. “Let’s go, Thea. We can make sure they don’t hurt him.”
We rushed preparations, stopping to let NASA Houston know we were leaving. Though we were supposed to wai...
... Read FullGreat story! I'm confused about the line "shanking him unconscious with my kitchen knife", but overall very engaging.
The idea was to have him knocked out by the bottom part of the knife, for which I'm not sure what the word is.
I think it might make more sense as "knocking him unconscious with the butt of my knife" or something of the sort. Shanking makes it sound like he stabbed the Russian to me.
Wow, that was really good. The ending seemed kind of rushed though.
It actually was; something came up IRL. I might change t out for something better.