I heard the pause in DJ’s breathing, and I wasn’t sure whether he was considering his answer or was busy with whatever he was doing to keep us from exploding. After a couple of seconds, he said, “Why not aliens?”
I hadn’t thought about it much until he asked, but the more I did, the more the idea seemed unlikely. “Does this feel like an alien ship to you?” I asked. “Granted, I’ve only seen the inside of this suit and the airlock, but all the text on my hud is in English.”
“You’re probably right,” he said. “Besides, there are lots of other things that could’ve abducted us.”
“Such as?”
“Sentient computer programs run amok?”
I snorted. “You watch way too much TV.”
“My dad says the same thing all the time,” he said. “Doesn’t mean it can’t be true.”
DJ had me there, and I didn’t know what else to say. There was an ease talking to him that I rarely found with others. I was frequently awkward and shy around strangers, but DJ drew words from me, seemingly, without even trying. I suspected it was because we weren’t actually in the same room together. He was little more than a voice in my helmet.
Once I’d finished smoothing the conduit, the instructions told me to use one of the mesh patches in my pouch to seal the hole. The patch was made of thin, flexible metal strands woven together as tightly as silk. I peeled the backing off to expose the adhesive and pressed it carefully against the surface of the pipe.
“Question for you,” DJ asked. “I’ve located the controls for shutting down the reactor, but doing so requires turning off a bunch of other systems, and I’m not real certain what any of them do.”
“Okay?” I was finishing the last step, which involved smearing a thick, pasty goo around the edges of the patch.
“I think I can work out what ‘oxygen reclamation’ does and that I shouldn’t mess with it, but I’ve got no idea what ‘stasis regulation’ or ‘photonic interface’ might be for. Any guesses?”
I shook my head, forgetting DJ couldn’t see me. “I can bake a cake no problem, but I can barely update my phone without breaking it. I don’t think this is the kind of situation where you want me taking guesses.”
“You bake cakes?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I bake lots of things, but I don’t think that’s what’s important at the moment.”
“I know. It’s just that I love eating cakes.”
It was weird to be laughing when my life was in danger, but it also felt good to bleed off some of the pressure that had been building inside my skull. And hearing DJ’s lighthearted laugh on the other end of the comms made me feel, just for a moment, like I was safe and nothing could harm me.
“If we survive, and there’s a kitchen on this ship, I’ll bake you as many cakes as you want.”
“Deal,” DJ said. His laughter faded into silence and then the silence turned uncomfortable. “So what do you think? Should I turn off these systems even though I don’t know what they do?” I began to repeat what I’d said before, but DJ cut me off. “We’re in the same boat, Noa.”
“Technically, it’s a ship,” I said. “And I’m not actually in it.”
“You know what I mean.” DJ sounded tense. He wasn’t joking anymore. “I don’t know what these systems do either, and I’ll make the decision if I have to, but I don’t want to be responsible for killing us if I can help it.”
I understood where DJ was coming from. It was a lot of pressure. I still didn’t think I was the best person to advise him, but I was the best DJ had, and I couldn’t let him down. “Is there any other way to kill the reactor?”
“Not as far as I can tell.”
“We’ll definitely die if you don’t shut those systems off, and we’ll only possibly die if you do. The choice seems pretty clear to me.”
DJ let out a relieved sigh. “Okay. Good. That’s what I was thinking too.”
“You got this, DJ,” I said. “And I’ll try not to be too pissed off if you accidentally kill us both.”
DJ’s rich, deep laugh filled the emptiness. It was bigger than the ship and brighter than the stars. “Thanks for that. I guess.”
“You’re welcome.” I closed the panel and stood. “Now hurry up. I’ve finished patching the conduit and I’m coming in. I can’t wait to get out of this stupid suit.”
“All right,” DJ said. “Say goodbye to water filtration.”
“Bye, water filtration!” I reached around my back to grab the tether, but it wasn’t there. I froze, seized by panic. The tether wasn’t there because I’d taken it off at the airlock and hadn’t reattached it. The tether wasn’t there because I was a moron. My heart fluttered. It stopped. “Damn it.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” I said. This was fine. I was going to be fine. I had my mag boots, and there was no point worrying DJ about something he couldn’t fix. I’d walked from the airlock to the conduit without the tether; I could make the return trip, no problem.
“You’ve gotta stop doing that,” DJ said. “Unless you’re trying to give me a heart attack.”
“Sorry.” One slow, careful step at a time, I made my way back to the airlock. The halo of lights surrounding the entrance grew brighter as I neared it, and this time I wasn’t going to let anything prevent me from cycling through and shedding my suit.
Even thinking about the suit made me anxious. I needed to talk to keep from panicking. “What do you do for fun, DJ?” I asked. “Obviously nothing water related.”
DJ didn’t answer. I hoped he was only preoccupied with shutting down the reactor, and I didn’t want to bug him and cause him to make a mistake, but I was also kind of on the verge of freaking out.
“DJ?”
“Sorry,” he said. “I don’t do much, I guess. Just normal teenage stuff.”
“Normal teenage stuff? That sounds like the kind of answer a fifty-year-old dude who’s never been a normal teenager would give.”
I had only been playing, but DJ sounded annoyed. “I don’t know. Does it matter?”
“Just making conversation. Do you play any sports?”
“I like running,” he said.
“Because of all the cake you like to eat?”
The silence before DJ answered was loud. “No. I just like to run.” More quiet. Thankfully, I was nearly at the airlock. Just a few more meters. Ten, max.
“I’m a jerk,” I said. “I make jokes when I’m nervous. I also talk a lot and I can’t stand silence. My mom says it’s because I was born premature and spent the first month of my life in an incubator.” Five meters. “I had heart problems too. My mom teases me that I was born with a broken heart.”
The heavy exhale of DJ’s sigh rushed through the speakers in my helmet, and even that sound was a relief. “Sorry. I’m concentrating on not messing this up.”
“What’s the verdict? Are we going to live?” Four meters.
“I can shut down the reactor as soon as you’re in the airlock.”