Lost in Space

Gas exploded from the shuttle with a force that would have been negligible on earth, but out in the vacuum of space it was deadly. Enslin was propelled backward and away from the spaceship with uncontrollable power. He was attempting to re-enter the shuttle after a routine maintenance space walk but something had malfunctioned shortly after he had detached the life preserving umbilical cord. This malfunction had caused an explosion that propelled him away from the craft and he was still moving backward. Panic settled in after a few brief moments of ignorance. He was unconnected to the shuttle and moving further away. He had to stop himself yet there was nothing he could do.

In the shrinking windows he saw the face of another crew member, he thought it might be Peters but he was moving to fast to be sure. Shit he had to stop himself. But how? He saw the shuttle begin to rotate and hoped like hell that they would be coming to rescue him. But now the ship was no bigger than his palm and the distance between them was growing. Panic increased and so did his breathing. No, he must slow his breathing because, he calculated, he only had roughly half an hour left of air. His finger. The ship was only the size of his finger now and growing rapidly smaller. Flailing arms and legs did nothing to fight against the emptiness of the atmosphere deprived vacuum. Breathe. He must breathe slow and be calm.

His crew members wouldn't leave him out here so all he had to do was wait. In his slightly less panicked state Enslin tried to focus on something other than his situation in order to calm himself. The beauty of space. That is what he would focus on. The absolute blackness and beauty of space. He was part of a privileged few who had been into space and that also made him invaluable to Space Research Centre that had sent this mission up here. He was sure that the shuttle would have contacted earth and they would have given the go ahead to detour from the mission to save him. All he had to do was wait.

The ship was now a white dot against the ink like blackness of space. Earth, he must focus on the earth. Think of home, of how soon you’ll be on solid ground after they come and get you. But the earth too was shrinking as he watched it. He could not accurately gauge his speed but he knew that he was moving fast. Too fast. When the shuttle had disappeared from view and the earth was the size of a ten cent piece Enslin gave up hope. This was it, this was the end. No one was coming for him. He surely couldn't be moving faster than the shuttle could travel so that must mean that the people on earth had found him to be an expendable asset. He gave up trying to slow his breathing, there was no point. He was lost in space and no one was coming to look for him. Never had Enslin felt so alone. Protected from the airless, frozen vacuum by his suit he let himself drift. He wanted to fight; he did not want to die. Surely it was not yet his time. But there was nothing to be done.

Enslin gave up fighting. He let himself drift. By closing his eyes he felt as if he were in a dream. There was nothing to alert him to his speed of movement, or that he was moving at all, when his eyes were closed. He shut out the stars that had intrigued him since childhood. He closed out the beauty that surrounded him and isolated himself within in his own mind and self pity.

Minutes passed by as Enslin drifted with his eyes closed. Only the thinness of the air he was breathing caused him to open his eyes. He appeared to have underestimated his supply of oxygen because his breathing was becoming laboured and he was beginning to tire. Soon his lungs began to burn and his chest hitch and writhe as he was being deprived of the air he so desperately needed to breathe. Tears of self pity began to roll down Enslin’s cheeks. This was it he decided, this was the end and so he let himself go.