TP-82

Floating around the place, a small droplet of blood wobbled in the air. It hung in the International Space Station. No flood followed but it remained visible as a crimson dot wafting in midair. Astronaut and United States Marine Colonel Commander Keleena Bivins wiped her face. The blood droplet had been produced from her nose, but no other trace of hemoglobin existed. It still made her shudder as the ISS crept into her bones. A heart attack against a Navy astronaut after a year on the Station a few months prior, still made her think of the idea of death aboard the Station.

On the other side of the Station, Russian Federation Colonel Commander Irina Bogdanov checked all of the instruments and everything seemed to be in order. A transmission, though scratchy, could be detected from Earth. The first speaker sounded like she had been panting with vigor and attempted to calm herself. She spoke in Russian.

At the opposite end of the Station, Colonel Bivins looked up with the wad of gauze in her nostril. “What the hell?” She said aloud as the transmission came in English.

Without hesitation, she zoomed through the air and looked at the portal to the other side of the vessel. She grabbed some more gauze and absorbed the wayward bit of blood. Like a guardian covering the night shift, Commander Bivins looked at the scene below. The blue orb seemed to remain serene despite the most recent communication.

Commander Bogdanov’s heart quickened but her mind slowed. No racing thoughts, just chilly calculations. She had known Colonel Bivins for months. Her affinity towards her remained solid, even convivial. Yet this last communication before everything went silent unnerved her. Sweat trickled down her cheek and she wondered if her American counterpart had received a similar signal.

Commander Bivins looked at the clocks from around the world. She studied the right time to enter the common section of the vessel. With a growing sense of dread and a tight stomach, every inch felt like a death knell, ringing and ringing.

When it came time for them to reach each other, the bleach clean modules and components and instruments made it look like a sterile surgery site or a laboratory or both. Colonel Bogdanov came to the commons compartment where the two of them could try to converse about this dire situation.

The window, glass and imposing, separated them. They looked at each other. Colonel Bivin’s brown-gray eyes and Colonel Bogdanov’s slate-blue eyes locked. Nervous smiles colored their faces. The modules around them showcased foods like beef brisket and a place to relieve themselves. Beds permitted them to rest comfortably. Now, there seemed to be no sense of comfort. Commander Bivins’ hair remained short and looked like an extremely tiny Afro. Commander Bogdanov’s blond hair stuck up like she stuck a fork in a wall socket.

They had passed through this space dozens of times on their respective missions. This time, things looked dour. Their visages hid their anxiety and they became poker players.

“Greetings, Keleena,” Commander Bogdanov acknowledged.

“Hey, girl. Did you get a—”

“I think we got the same message….”

The deadly awkwardness set in at this moment.

“I mean….” Commander Bogdanov started in a cold, low whisper. “Do you think it could be some kind of hoax? Like someone jammed the signal and just started spewing nonsense?”

Commander Bivins shrugged. “I don’t see how anyone could transgress on the universe’s safest communication link.”

“So…..” Commander Bogdanov started.

“So, we just continue on about our daily routine. I still haven’t brushed my teeth,” Commander Bivins and Commander Bogdanov shared a laugh. It was an uneasy, tepid kind of chuckle. A deep sigh washed over them. Then, Commander Bogdanov produced a TP-82 gun and brandished it before Commander Bivins’ face. She was unfazed. Plenty of firearms had waved before her eyes. She didn’t sweat, she thought.

“You don’t know the repercussions of doing what you’re about to do. Withdraw your weapon,” Commander Bivins instructed.

“This is for Mother Russia. I must do this to save my country from definite ruin,” Bogdanov’s hand began to tremble. Commander Bivins noticed this.

“Listen, Irena, you’re going to lower that weapon which should have been discontinued almost twenty years ago, and we’re going to keep this place peaceful,” Commander Bivins spoke in an even tone like a step-by-step video. Commander Bogdanov next brought up the combination gun and looked at her fellow space traveler.

“We Russians don’t tell you Americans everything,” She referred to how the firearm survived from allegedly being eradicated from the Station.

Bivins used her Marine Corps Martial Arts Program (MCMAP) training to keep the gun out of Bogdanov’s control. Once Commander Bivins maintained proper handling of the firearm, she pointed it at the cosmonaut.

“Now, we’re going to do this with tact and safety.” Bivins floated back and removed the gauze from her nose.

“You Americans…always wanting to take over the globe, even from way up here….” Commander Bogdanov whispered with a wry smile.

“You pulled this thing on me. I’m defending myself. The cameras will reflect that.”

“Okay, so shoot me,” Commander Bogdanov suggested with icy insinuation.

“Yes, and depressurize the entire Station…no. I’m familiar with this weapon. It’s used for hunting bears. There’s a machete feature to it.”

“Do what you must do. Pray that the oxidizer will allow you to fire in this vacuum. Don’t forget the kickback from firing the gun,” Commander Bogdanov announced.

Commander Bivins slid the weapon into her suit.

“No, this was some mixup in the comms. Now that they’re wiped out, we’re going to have to understand that this whole episode will be recorded in the log. Someone just trolled us in some sick way. And when we get to Earth, you will be prosecuted.”

“Alright, so we act like none of this happened while we’re up here?”

“No, I’m going to ensure that you…,” Commander Bivins started. Commander Bogdanov reached for the firearm. Commander Bivins proved to be quicker. She detached the buttstock and bore the blade. She sliced Commander Bogdanov’s throat. Blood bubbled through the air like a crimson stream and Commander Bogdanov tried to breathe precious air and gasped and gasped. Her eyes finally rolled back in her head as she offered one last gulp.

Commander Bivins then took the cosmonaut’s body, cleansed and covered the wounds, and Velcroed her to a module near the “orbital outhouse.” She then journeyed to the cleaning station and attempted to wash the walls, floor, and ceiling of the common area. She then scrubbed herself and changed her suit. After washing herself, she went back to the comms. A voice came in over the receiver.

“We have just concluded the global test of the ‘Possible End’ (PEND) simulation for the International Space Station. All countries stand down on all weapons systems.”

Commander Bivins looked at a trickle of blood floating through the air. “Jesus,” she remarked and threw back her head.