Winter

It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. 

The leaky water pipe responsible for the snowfall was drizzling out a tiny spray, barely visible in the pale illumination from her helmet’s dome light. But with the ongoing issue with the power generators, the temperature here was close to zero, and so the droplets were crystallizing in mid-air as they drifted towards the deck on the current from the airflow vents. This was the first time Aalie had seen snow in person; it would have been pretty under other circumstances.

In spite of the smallness of the leak, a spiky coat of ice had accumulated on every surface of the maintenance tunnel. It had taken command a surprisingly long time to notice that the reservoir levels were slowly dropping, and it had taken her team even longer to find the source, deep in the bowels of the ship. If they lived, this was definitely going to go into her record. At the moment, that wasn’t one of her top ten concerns.

“It’ll be fine,” she muttered to herself, spinning gently as she dug through the emergency toolset, looking for the right wrench to turn the junction valve. No gravity here, of course. That was a luxury afforded the upper decks only, and even then only in command. And no powered tools, not these days. Those were all long dead, their batteries confiscated along with nearly every other battery on the ship, pressed into service to keep the upper decks in a somewhat livable state. They were probably sipping luke-warm tea up there, enjoying only having to wrap themselves in their bed’s blankets rather than trying to maneuver in a full enviro-suit. 

At least they’d given her a battery for the suit. She’d had to turn off the air scrubber to conserve power for the heater, and even that she’d turned down to minimum. But it was fine; there was still airflow down here, as proven by the drifting snow that was melting on contact with her face mask. As long as she kept the suit mask’s filters clear of ice, she’d have plenty of air. Each breath of frigid air made the heater work harder, of course, and the blinking light from the battery pack was going to be a problem sooner than later. But “sooner” wasn’t “now”, so the job came first.

“It’s fine. It’ll be fine.” Never mind that the melting wastewater left behind a residue that refracted the dim light into a melange of oily rainbows. Best to not think too much about that; she was fortunate that the leak wasn’t from one of the high pressure pipes that were responsible for moving fresh water from the reservoirs to the front of the ship. A rupture in one of those would likely have dumped their water reserve before they had a chance to stop it.

Her comm unit crackled. “Midshipman Bennet? How’s that repair going? We’re still showing water loss up here.”

She triggered the mike. “Just fine, sir,” she found herself resisting the urge to giggle at the repetition. Just fine, just fine. Everything’s fit as a fiddle, another beautiful day in His Majesty’s Royal Navy. “I’ve isolated the…” she floundered for a moment. “The leak. Found it, it’s here, I’m going to shut the valve now.”

“Good. Thanks, Bennet. Get it closed down, and get yourself back up here safely.”

“Aye, shir.” she responded in a sing-song voice, then keyed the mike off. The junction with the valve was just there, boasting its cheerful coating of ice. She’d need to knock that off carefully, or risk… something. 

A small voice somewhere in the back of her mind spent a few seconds wondering if the air coming from the vents was actually fresh. She entertained the idea for a while, wondering why it seemed as though it might be important. “Fie…” she explained to the juncture. “Izall fie…?”

The wrench that she’d dug out of the toolkit spun in the air and tapped her helmet. She started, wondering for a moment where she was, and what she was doing. “…izit?” she asked the wrench, as it floated away through the falling snow. There were red lights on the suit’s display now, and she felt a surge of something… panic? as though from a distance. Training kicked in, her fingers tapped buttons on her suit control - turn off the heat, turn on the air recycler. A few moments later, her brain started to clear.

“Shit. Ohhhh… shit” She kicked off the bulkhead, grabbed the wrench, then kicked off the opposing bulkhead to get back to the junction. The cold was already starting to bite, and shivers quickly set in. The suit’s display started complaining again, but for a reason that wouldn’t kill her right away. So that was progress.

Focused now, she gave the junction a quick rap to scatter the ice, then tightened the wrench on the fitting. Grunting, she pulled the junction shut, checked to make sure the spray had stopped, then braced against the bulkhead and hurtled towards the hatch.

The suit gave one last chirp, and the displays shut down. As she reached the hatch, she resisted the urge to laugh in relief. Far too early for that. She turned the wheel on the hatch, and pulled it open with fingers that no longer had feeling. As she pushed through and shut the hatch behind her, she opened external air again, gambling that it was still good here.

She wasn’t shivering any more. Was that a good sign? She had a feeling that it wasn’t. She keyed the mike, and almost wept when she got a flicker of light from the transceiver. “Emergency. Emergency. Crew member in distress, no fresh air, no heat. Bulkhead… twelve echo 4. Moving towards twelve echo 2. Someone meet me with a battery, please.”

She kicked off of the wall; moving towards safety, or towards death, but moving either way. 

“It’s fine. It’ll be fine.”