ocean of stars by Myra Çakan

09/28/09:48 CET
Benya says that Vassiliy is dead. I have to believe her. She says nobody could have survived in there. Smoke is still coming out of the command module. I just don't know if the extinguishers are still working. The locks are blocked shut, so I can't get in. Not that I want to. What could be in there scares me. Does that make me a coward?
Benya says I'm not. She kissed me and said I was her hero. Then she opened the lock. I couldn't stand to watch the Orion take off, though. Two people had to stay back. One was Vassiliy, the other…
Me…. What am I doing here?
 
09/28/09:55 CET
The quarters look the same as they always did. Nobody had any time to pack anything. Tom's Magic cards are scattered over the table. Tom and Davina both had fractures and internal bleeding. Just yesterday he and the Commander were playing… Vassiliy made a joke and said something, and Tom laughed… But I can't remember what the joke was any more. And the Commander…what was his name again? I really can't remember. Did we call him something different? I'm sure he had a name. Everybody does. My name's Chris. Christopher Warncke, first engineer on Space Station Delta 2. Chris Warncke.
The doctor gave me a shot. For shock, he said. "Stay warm, he said, and put a blanket around me. He wouldn't look me in the eye, and he patted my shoulder… Why me? Vassiliy is dead. He never did win anything at cards…
Out of the port I can see the solar array casting its sharp shadows across the laboratory module. Nothing looks like it's changed. But then, the shuttle's docking ring is on the other side. Right now they're making the last system checks. I know the procedure. Routine — it keeps you from thinking too much.
I can't see the Earth from here. When the fire started, Ground Control was off line. They didn't know what had happened. Vassiliy was right in the middle of making a system check. Earthside was expecting our first recall at twelve hundred CET.
I'm getting cold. The doctor warned me that was a sign of shock. It's a good thing I've got this blanket.
 
09/28/10:01 CET
Benya says the explosion blew away the whole section that contained the escape capsule She's able to reach me over her suit radio. I'm sitting on my bunk and holding the receiver to my ear. "The lower solar panel also got hit," she says. Benya can keep talking to me because she's the science officer, and they don't need her to help with the takeoff. 
But she has to stop to help keep Grigoriy lying flat. Tom and Davina are both unconscious. 
Sometimes I can hear Grigoriy screaming. I'm not sure if it's what I'm remembering, or if it's coming through Benya's suitphone.
The shuttle wasn't designed to carry the ISS crew. Only carries its own flight crew and four passengers. Somebody has to maintain the station. I'm the only one who wasn't wounded. So I'm the one. "We'll send a shuttle," the Commander says. He sounds absolutely sure of it.
"Lots of luck, Chris," Benya tells me. Her voice is fading. It will be gone soon. Crackling static, then silence.
 
09/28/10:09 CET
Now I'm alone on Delta 2. I was just in the galley. I've got enough supplies. It's the life-support system that worries me. Right after the explosion, the whole station went dead. No electricity at all. Got to find out what caused it. Won't be enough reserves to cover if it happens again.
I've got to develop a plan. Check off every point on the list. First thing is to get an exact idea of the status of the station's systems. When the fire broke out, our little R2D2 was off line. I can't contact it now. That means that if I really want to know how bad it is outside, I'll have to do an EVA.
 
09/30/18:18 CET
I'm trying to keep to a normal, daily routine. It's hard. Haven't slept for two days. With every passing hour I feel more abandoned up here. There are all these echoes when I walk and I can hear the blood roaring in my ears. I realize everything's slipping away from me. I've really got to get some sleep.
Tomorrow I'm going to try to repair the transmitter. Even if it means going into the command center. Vassiliy is still in there. God help me. How can I stand to look at him?
 
10/01/14:32 CET
I didn't get in. The airlock must have been warped by the heat. It feels like a reprieve: I don't have to see Vassiliy today.
Here's my theory about why I can't sleep: It's the fear that another explosion is going to wake me up. Grigoriy was just leaving when the lock on the command module sealed itself automatically. He couldn't really say what had happened.
 
10/01/16:18 CET
Found some Dexedrine in the medical unit. Finally I'm going to be able to think clearly again. Make some decisions around here.
I also went into the lab. At first I thought nothing had happened in there. Looked as though Benya and Tom could come back at any moment. Then I saw what was in the test-tubes — everything had congealed. There was condensation all over the equipment. All the blood samples had dried out. The aquarium full of guppies had cracked open. The amphibians are dead too. Didn't even think about trying to take care off the lab-animals. I really shouldn't neglect my duties.
I'm still feeling cold. Probably means I haven't been getting enough sleep.
 
10/02/00:01 CET
I pasted a photo of Lara on the bulkhead. I had it in my locker. I didn't want the others to see her and make remarks. I know I am not much with the women. I'm not particularly good looking, or funny, and I'm too damn shy. Never have been able to figure out why Lara fell in love with me. She always tells me I brood too much. And then she looks at me that way she has…
Tonight I'm going to be able to sleep. I'm sure of it. Then tomorrow, I'll do the EVA.
 
10/02/13:05 CET
I used the emergency exit in the lab. Right now, from where I'm floating, Delta looks just like the old Space Station Freedom in the poster I had when I was a kid. Space Station Freedom was my reason for living. That poster went with me to college, and I hung onto it right up until I got to the training camp in Huntsville. Just before we blasted off, I gave it to Lara.
I'm using the jet pack to maneuver along the station. Now I'm in front of the docking ring. It was really fried in the explosion. Hard to believe that the Orion was able to take off at all. 
Now I'm outside the command module. All that's left of the docking bay and its CRVs is bent metal, but the directional antenna looks OK. I'm going in.
Everything's covered with soot. The computers have melted all over the consoles. The transmitter is just a pile of rubble. Maybe I could link my helmet unit to the antenna and send a distress signal. Better yet, maybe I could rig something using Vassiliy's suit.
But what am I talking about? Vassiliy — where's Vassiliy?
Oh my God!
 
10/02/15:05 CET
I carried Vassiliy into the upper storage bay — or, I carried a crumpled something that used to be Flight Technician Vassiliy Petrovich from a tiny village in the Ukraine. Hard to think of him as a living, breathing human being at that point. 
Suddenly, I could hear his laugh. Vassiliy had always seized life with both hands.
 
10/04/03:23 CET
Tonight, Grigoriy's screams woke me up again. All I have to do is shut my eyes, and I see his face, his half-burned off face. It would help if somebody could let me know if he made it. Even if it was the simple truth that no one could survive such an injury, it would give me some peace of mind.
Why weren't we trained to deal with this kind of a mess? I'm feel so helpless. I know the station inside and out — it's the inside of my head I don't really know about. 
If I could choose between the insomnia and the nightmares, I'm not sure which I'd pick. But then, I guess I don't really have a choice, I do need at least a couple of hours sleep. 
My brain is playing tricks on me. Yesterday I thought I heard voices from the Lab. Benja and Vassily. They laughed. For a moment I believed that the accident and Vassily's death only a gruesome nightmare. I must be careful so I won't cross the line between dream and reality. I'm keeping a couple tabs of amphetamine handy in case I can't handle the nightmares any more. 
 
10/04/09:44 CET
The station is losing altitude. Somehow I've got to get more power out of the solar panels and recharge the power cells so I can boost her back into our old orbit.
It's been two years now that we've had Delta under construction. So far, we've built only four of what's supposed to be 12 modules; and the solar array isn't finished yet, either. There've been plenty of delays. We had trouble getting deliveries made, and some of the important components weren't anywhere near done. When Benya arrived, she said they were thinking back at Earthside about not even finishing the project. That could be the explanation for a lot of this.
 
10/04/12:48 CET
I found R2D2. He's stuck in one of the solar panels. I've got to get him out of there so I can get that panel working again.
The robot is really stuck in there. I'll have to go back to the station and bring back the cutting gear. Hope I've got enough air to do a second EVA.
 
10/04/13:07 CET
I damaged my suit. Nothing dramatic, but I lost some air from a small tear in the fabric. I didn't notice it in time — only after the alarm went off. Sure hope Vassiliy's suit fits me.
 
10/07/05:23 CET
Made some progress. Worked through the whole night again. Yesterday I got the robot out of the solar array, and got full power out of the big panel for four rotations. But the life-support system still isn't running the way it should. It's still cold in here, and I'm afraid the oxygen supply isn't as good as I'd hoped.
Finally I've managed to get the main antenna linked up to my suit radio. I'm shivering so much it's hard to get the final connection made… I'm so tired. If I could only get some decent sleep.
 
10/08/02:11 CET
Ground Control called. Lousy connection — kept breaking up. I gave them a status report. They swore they were going to send up a rescue mission soon. They also said that the shuttle with the crew had landed, and that Grigoriy, thanks to several skin transplants, was on the way to recovery. They promised to call back in 24 hours. They're going to let Lara talk to me then. I'm so relieved. I'm not going to die alone up here.
10/10/07:23 CET
It's been 53 hours since I last talked to Ground Control. Why haven't they called back? Something's going wrong up here.
I've just listened to these recordings I've been making. What's the matter with me? I didn't say when I managed to get through to Ground Control. And the transmitter is completely dead. How could I have believed that I fixed it? What's wrong with me — am I losing it?
 
10/10/15:08 CET
I found the suit radio in the lab. Apparently I tried to jury-rig a link to the directional antenna. Now I know what happened. It was a dream. Wish fulfillment. But it seemed so real that I really thought I'd gotten in touch with Ground Control.
Is this a sign that I'm going crazy? I wasn't trained for long-term missions, after all. Not prepared for it at all. Any of it. If only there was someone I could talk to.
 
10/15/12:18 CET
The temperature throughout the station continues to sink. Just had another breakdown in the life-support system. Right now the station is running on emergency power. And it keeps getting colder. Almost as though the vacuum of space were trying to get inside here with me. I've got to locate the source of the trouble. Even though there isn't very much I can do. I used up all the energy in Vassiliy's jet pack on the last EVA. All I can do is wait. When was it that the Commander said they were going to send that shuttle up here?
 
10/15/22:12 CET
The catalytic unit has gone belly up. Now all I've got to breathe is the station air. Wasn't the next ATV supposed to have arrived? I've totally lost track of time. The transporter could have been here for a couple of days trying to dock without me even noticing. Its supplies could have burned up in the atmosphere already. Benya always prepared for the worst. I should check in the lab — maybe she stowed a couple of oxygen sticks there someplace.
 
10/16/07:45 CET
Lara. I had a dream about Lara. When I woke up I could feel the weight of her head against my arm. The scent of her skin was everywhere. It was so real. Just like she was here with me. I can't let myself think about that. But what harm does dreaming do? It doesn't hurt anybody.
Any way, in two more days she's going to be able to talk to me. I'll have to make sure I establish contact with Ground Control. She's probably worrying herself sick. I am so sorry.
 
10/18/17:03 CET
Well, I've checked everything over again. No reason why the emergency transmitter I've rigged up shouldn't work.
But what if they don't want to listen to me? Maybe they've already written off the whole station.
You can't let yourself think like that.
Tomorrow's Lara's birthday. Lara said "I love you." It was when we said good-bye, just before liftoff. She came down to Canaveral specially. She waited. Waited for me to say "I love you too.". But I couldn't. Again, I was just too shy.
And now it's too late. I don't think anybody's going to come and get me. There just isn't enough time.
Don't think that way.
No. No — I just can't stop it. I can't keep my mind off it.
 
10/20/00:08 CET
Two hours ago, there was a depressurization incident in the crew module. I couldn't fix it, so I sealed it shut. All my things are still in there. Including Lara's photo. I'm scared I'm going to forget about her.
I'm forgetting things so quickly. I wish to hell I'd taken the time to say good-bye to the Earth when I was on that last EVA. Now I only see the Earth — smell its grass, its snow — in my dreams. This artificial world is my habitat now. 
It's a good thing I put some emergency supplies in each of the modules around the station. Here in the lab, I'll be able to get by for awhile. I found two oxygen sticks in here.
 
10/25/03:18 CET
For two days now, it's been the same thing, over and over. They keep saying, "Delta 2, Delta 2, can you hear us? We observed an explosion. What is your status? Please advise so we can initiate proper procedures. This is a recording."
They don't say anything about the shuttle. What happened to the crew? Why won't they say anything about the shuttle?
I can't stand it in here much longer. You know, before they accepted us, we all went through the complete set of psychological tests. Never had anything like claustrophobia. Wouldn't be here if I did. But why do I have the feeling that I'm — I'm being tossed into the emptiness, into space?
 
10/27/14:00 CET
Finally. I reached Ground Control. The connection was terrible, but at least they know there's still somebody alive up here.
They said there was some kind of delay in launching the new team.
I'm scared they're not going to make it in time.
 
10/29/00:06 CET
I guess I've figured out what's going on: the station doesn't want me around. The signs are clear. All systems have crashed. It's dark and cold.
 
10/30/04:09 CET
I feel dizzy, and it's getting hard to breathe. I can't get through to Ground Control any more, either.
It's so cold I can't stop my hands from shaking. 
They sure have left me holding the bag.
I wonder if they've sent the shuttle yet?
There I go again with those thoughts. 
I can determine the hour of my own death. Does this make me privileged? But I don't want to die, not out here in an ocean of stars. So alone.
 
10/30/11:15 CET
I've put on Vassiliy's space suit. The heating element isn't working, but at least his oxygen tank is almost half full. I'm going into the airlock now. All I can do is wait.
I really wish I could see the Earth. But there are only the stars. Lara knows their names.
Space isn't black. It's a gray veil made out of starlight and layers of energy and matter. I'm part of that matter: there's some of the Overwhelming in every one of us Out there is the beginning of all life, and the end. 
Lara, if you ever hear this, I wanted to tell you so much more. I had a lot of plans…
 
10/30/12:12 CET
Instruments in Vassiliy's suit not working right… hard to breathe… the suit… air… Think I can see the rescue shuttle. Have to open the outer lock.
Strange. Why do they always talk about the cold light of the stars? Out there… millions of warm suns. Never have to freeze any more. Never…