I killed the man that wasn't there Page 6
Part of every Astronauts training is Morse Code, so I knew Morse code as well as English. I knew what the blinking spelled out: A – L, C – H – U.
For a brief second I wondered if the ghost of Al Chu had somehow made it to the second stage module to take his revenge on the piece of equipment that had led to his death. I brushed that thought away and realized I had a real physical problem to take care of. I had to check the lander release mechanism.
Drifting through the module in zero gee isn't easy and I banged into a few bulkheads on the way, but that's my preferred way of navigating. I’ve found just bouncing around in spaces is actually faster than carefully grabbing each handhold. I just had to make sure to keep my momentum up. There is no worse feeling than being in a rush to go somewhere in zero-g and bounce off something too slowly and having to wait helplessly until you drift into something you can push off of.
I traveled through the ship and had a feeling that someone or something was watching me. I looked over my shoulder and I ran headfirst into the access panel for the Lander Release Mechanism. Not enough to hurt but it bounced me back across the room and I had to carefully maneuver myself back to the panel.
I opened the panel and got a huge surprise, it stank. On Earth that wouldn’t be a surprise, but on space ships the only smells you expect are sterile air and the occasional whiff of ozone from the electronics. This was organic. I only got a fleeting whiff so I didn’t have a chance to identify it but it was almost like the smell of a dead body. But I wouldn't know as I had never been exposed to a dead body. I knew I was letting my mind run away on me so I returned to work and immediately found the problem; the wire going to the release mechanism had wiggled loose.
“Why would the sensor turn on and off?” I asked myself. “It’s not loose enough for the vibrations of the ship to affect it and there's nothing big enough to move it in the panel.”
I pushed the connector back in firmly until it had a secure grip with its sensor. It was just a coincidence that the intermittent short spelled out Al Chu’s name.
The rest of the inspection went smoothly and I forgot all my silly thoughts about Al Chu until it was time to sleep.
Two days of sleeping side by side in the second stage capsule made it nice to have some room to sleep apart. I chose to sleep in the service module. Dozing off to the sound of the air being forced through the vents and the hundred other noises that the ship made. I woke up to the sound of scratching.
Immediately awake I went in search of the noise. But try as I might I couldn’t find anything that might make a scratching noise. While I was looking for it, the sound disappeared and I didn’t hear it again until I returned to my sleeping bag. I ignored it and dozed off to sleep.
I dreamed about floating outside the ship looking down on it. A figure in a Space Suit drifted over and landed on the hull of the service module and started scratching to get in. I drifted closer and he lifted his head to look at me and I saw the decomposed face of Al Chu.
I woke up with a start, breathing heavy and heart racing. It was only when I got the strange idea that if the zombie was really in a space suit, the visor to stop the Sun's glare would keep me from seeing his face that I calmed down.
At breakfast I asked my crew members how they slept and didn’t hear any complaints, so I figured I’d keep my dream to myself. Afterwards, I was too busy to go looking for any strange sounds. Orbital insertion went perfectly and we were getting ready to prepare the Lander and were all expecting to be at Tyco Base for dinner when the scratching noise started up again.
“Do you hear that?” Mission Specialist Tom asked me.
“You hear the scratching too?” I said, relieved that I had confirmation that I wasn’t imagining it.
“Yeah, It’s coming from behind this panel.” He pointed to the life support access panel.
I could have let Tom open up the panel. Looking back I wish I had and he could have dealt with the consequences. However, after being haunted by the sound for a day now, I had to be the one to see it first.
I carefully undid the bolts to the access panel without a sound. Then I quickly ripped it away to take whatever was making the noise by surprise.
I’m sure you have heard the scream I made after I opened the panel. I’ve tried to sue to stop it from being spread around the Internet, but I couldn’t even stop the wacky morning DJ crew from using it as the intro to their show. After the pop band “Blazing Bobcats” made a hit single sampling it, I knew I would be forever known as “the screaming astronaut”.
But honestly, wouldn’t you scream if you opened an access panel, only to have an escaped lab gerbil come flying at you with her teeth bared determined to protect her nest.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Darrell B. Nelson is a former Securities Broker and Insurance Agent who has decided to use the total meltdown of his former industry, and the total destruction of any illusions of personal financial security the meltdown caused, as an opportunity to pursue a writing career.
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