Supernova Soul by Matthew J. Metzger

Author:Matthew J. Metzger [Metzger, Matthew J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: NineStar Press, LGBTQIA+, science-fiction, lesbian, space travel, discrimination, character study
Publisher: NineStar Press, LLC
Published: 2020-05-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

A hand shook her shoulder.

“Hey!”

Hélène stirred sleepily, blinking the blurry spots from her vision. Zoë stood over her, fully suited up apart from the mask. She loomed over Hélène’s bunk for a moment, then turned away.

“Come on,” she said brusquely. “Let’s get moving.”

The discovery of their solitude on the moon had let them all relax a fraction, and Hélène cringed to realise she’d slept in. She rolled out of bed and rushed into her uniform, scraping back her hair in a loose ponytail with a rubber hand and ignoring the messy look. She’d be hooded and masked in a few minutes. Nothing to bother herself about.

Suited and booted, Hélène stepped out onto an entirely different moon. Its host planet had risen to her left, casting a blueish hue over the red rock and resulting in a sickly purple tone to everything. She stared up at the vast expanse and wondered if something else stared back, curious about the dark spots on its typically pink satellite. Man had not yet discovered any other life amongst the stars, but Hélène—like many—wondered how long their isolation would last. The universe was vast, after all.

Then she shook off the fancy and set off after Zoë.

The pilot stayed entirely silent as they locked their masks into place and stepped into the external airlock of the third biotent. Comms equipment sprawled over the rock within, ready for rebuilding once they’d picked up the rest of the supplies. Hélène steeled herself as the lock lights turned green, then walked into the poison.

It was nothing but her imagination, but for a split second, she swore she could feel the tingle of the corrosive atmosphere on her skin.

“Come on!” Zoë snapped and stalked off.

Hélène let her. To hell with tantrums. They didn’t have time for any nonsense, not with unreliable suits and an uncertain deadline. She set off across the misty ground, steam from the gaping vents swirling around their ankles.

The derelict crash site seemed like an open grave, the mutilated bodies of their dead colleague exactly where Hélène had seen them last. Stringy flesh stretched over grinning bone, their limbs half-mummified as the atmosphere had destroyed any bugs or bacteria that might have eaten their bodies. Eyeballs had burst, streaking jelly tears down leathery cheeks.

Zoë walked right past them as if they didn’t exist and began to strip out the comms array.

“What’s the matter with you?” Hélène asked.

“I’m not interested in small talk with bigots,” came the sharp reply.

Hélène rolled her eyes. “Right, because your little question about what generation immigrant I am wasn’t bigoted.”

Zoë flushed angrily.

“Keep your personal questions about my life to yourself,” Hélène snapped.

“Noted.”

“It wasn’t any of your business.”

“Also noted.”

“Why are you so angry anyway? You never met my wife.”

“It’s none of your business as to why I think you’re a fucking bitch,” Zoë retorted. “Help me do this, or go to the other pod and get started there.”

It was tempting. Really tempting. But Hélène held onto her temper by a thread, knowing that to split up would be an awful idea.

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