At that instant the two intruders rotated into the Russian SM module from DC-1, located at the far, aft end of the ISS. They’d probably been searching the DC-1 module, located perpendicularly to the SM, and from the time they’d taken must have done a thorough job, trying to ferret out any crew member who might have been hiding. They really were being methodical, moving from aft to bow and leaving no compartment unsearched.
Alexi spotted the two at the same time as Kimberly. Grasping the hatch with a massive hand, he swung out of the vestibule and kicked off after the intruders. His face contorted with rage, he bellowed something in Russian, holding the foot-long wrench in front of himself as he flew from Node 1 into the FGB.
“Alexi! No!” Kimberly felt the words come out as a scream, terrified that by jumping the gun he would only get himself killed.
She heard a commotion as Robert scrambled out of the Joint Airlock. Half a moment later Viktor shot out of Node 3; both men were holding their makeshift weapons out in front of them. They flew past Kimberly looking as if they’d been mainlining adrenaline.
Robert’s eyes were wide, his face flushed. He twisted in the air and hesitated. “Where … where are they?”
“There!” Viktor pointed his long wrench down the modules as he kicked off to join his Russian comrade.
Without a word, Robert planted a booted foot on the wall and took off, following him.
Kimberly didn’t know what she should do. She had to help the guys, but couldn’t think of anything right off that would target only the two intruders and wouldn’t affect all of them. She was certainly no match for them using another makeshift weapon, and if any of the big lunks didn’t keep on the offensive and instead tried to protect her, it might end up getting one of the guys hurt.
But what could she use to help them, other than one of the tools? She could duck into the JPM and pull out one of the lasers, but they were all eye-safe and relatively harmless. There were plenty of toxic chemicals stored on board but using them could end up harming herself and the ISS more than the intruders if she tried to spray them around indiscriminately.
Watching from across the distance of the two modules she heard Alexi roar like a bull as he dashed into the FGB, his hands outstretched. Viktor and Robert were no more than a couple of feet behind him, also brandishing their weapons and bellowing madly.
Alexi flew straight toward the tourist, Bakhet. The man didn’t move; it was almost as if he’d given up any hope of defending himself.
Kimberly realized it was a trap.
“Alexi!” she screamed. “Watch out!”
Farid suddenly shot out from the left, knife in hand. He slammed into Alexi as Bakhet ducked, allowing Farid to bowl over Alexi. They spun through the air with wild, slashing thrusts. Farid sliced open the side of Alexi’s throat. The bald Russian spun around in the module, blood spurting from his veins in tiny, pulsating spheres.
Bakhet slipped out of Kimberly’s sight as Viktor and Robert flew into the module. They both tried to use their tools on Farid, but Kimberly heard a loud grunt as Robert was suddenly struck by Bakhet in the middle of his back.
They started clawing at each other, but Bakhet grabbed one of Robert’s ankles and jerked him deeper into the module, like a fish being yanked out of the water. Bakhet wrapped both arms around Robert, then slid one arm up around his neck. He jerked violently, once, twice, and Robert suddenly went slack. Bakhet pushed the body away and they both floated apart.
Blood was spurting from Viktor’s arm as he and Farid continued to spar. Bakhet joined the fight and the two murderers backed Viktor deeper into the module, moving out of Kimberly’s field of view. An instant later Viktor’s body spun out of the module’s hatch, limp, lifeless.
Kimberly was gasping hard, furious with herself for not having joined the melee. Maybe she could have helped, at least distracted the two intruders while the guys worked together to defeat them. That had been her plan in the first place; if Alexi hadn’t jumped the gun they might all three be still alive.
As she might not be in an extremely short time if she didn’t get away and find something to defend herself with.
The first thing she had to do was regroup and find a weapon. She could analyze the situation later. Right now she had to survive.
NODE 3
Kimberly kicked out with her leg, hitting one of the containers secured to the ISS wall, and rapidly pushed off for Node 3. Entering the module, she shot across the spacious volume, not knowing if Farid and his partner had seen where she’d gone. The vestibule to the inflatable Bigelow module was on her left, and she could hide in the Bigelow—but since the unit was nowhere near as large as the other modules and wasn’t storing much equipment, they’d quickly rummage through whatever was in there and spot her. Worse, if they didn’t kill her they might lock her inside the inflatable module by bolting the hatch shut.
And then what could she do? She’d be trapped without any way to get out or even to fight back. There wasn’t even a spacesuit in there, like the EVAs stored in the Joint Airlock or the smaller, second-generation suit she’d temporarily moved to the JPM.
Desperately swinging her head, scanning everything in sight, she spotted a stack of white container bags tied together in a bungee jail at the far end of Node 3, next to the node’s commercial spacecraft docking port and the Cupola that gave an unobstructed view of Earth as they orbited around it.
She didn’t have time to unzip one of the bags, empty its contents, and try to squeeze into it. The bag’s contents floating around the node would be a dead giveaway to what she’d done. But she did have time to hide behind the stack of bags. Maybe.
Kimberly pushed over and started pulling apart the bungee cords that held the bags to the module’s side, one eye on the hatch where the intruders would soon appear. She yanked the cords apart and pried open a slit just large enough for her to squeeze through and wriggled into the opening, then wedged herself in behind the bags. She turned and smoothed the cords back into place, then pushed herself deeper into the bungee cord jail that typically flexed enough to allow pulling the bags apart.
It was like slipping behind the living room sofa when she was younger, playing hide-and-seek with her friends. Most of the bags were filled with soft stuff, like clothing supplies and dehydrated foods. She edged those out of her way as she burrowed deeper into the pile. Other bags felt hard, metal objects such as spare parts and equipment. Kimberly tried to use them as a buffer between her and the softer bags, in case the intruders started poking through the pile with something sharp.
Pushing to the back of the stack, she pressed against the white insulation covering the module wall that kept in the station’s heat while protecting its innards against the vacuum’s deathly cold, bare inches away. Her heart was racing again and she deliberately slowed her breathing with deep, steady breaths, trying to breathe without making a sound.
She waited. She could hear the hum of the air changers working in the background and the creaks and barely audible groans of the space station as it slightly expanded and contracted from the temperature gradients caused by having one side of the structure exposed to harsh sunlight, the other to the cold darkness of shadow.
She didn’t move.
She thought she heard the sounds of the two intruders as they made their way through the modules. After disposing of her crewmates—no, after murdering her crewmates—disposing was too dispassionate, too technical a term, one that can be used at arm’s length. They’ve murdered six men, Kimberly thought, and now they were hunting for her.