The last confessions of love (swearing)
I've used 2 POV in this short story. Is it noticeable?
He'd been drifting for 5 hours now like an unwanted satellite. Head over heels he flipped and the stars reeled in a gut wrenching dance.
Four hours to go and he'd be gasping for Oxygen. If he was lucky he’d get hit by a rock. Or maybe he’d get picked up by a passing extra terrestrial, but the chances of that were very slim.
They'd all perished. But that was alright with him though, he'd saved them from a worse alternative.
***
On day one the newsreels showed images of cities burning. It wasn't confined to one part of the planet; it was happening all over it. It was the day the Agency told them to return planetside.
“I ain't returning to that,” Hardy said.
Riggs held the mug to his lips and breathed in the coffee. “It's not a request, it's an order. Rules are rules, they're Standard Agency Operating Procedure.”
“It's suicide,” Fey agreed and looked at Hardy.
“I say we wait up here until the Pandemic is over,” Hardy sat next to Fey and held her hand. She gave a wry smile.
“You signed the contract. We are governed by what they say – this is their property,” he waved a hand at the interior of the Galley and walked to the window. Through it's toughened glass he watched as the Earth moved out of view for the second time in a minute.
Steven Gregson walked in. His face ashen, “They've detonated a nuclear warhead over Washington DC.” He walked out again.
“I ain't returning to that. No ****ing way,” Hardy said again. Fey removed her hand from Hardy's and left the Galley. There was nothing more to say. The decision final.
Fey padded through tunnel A to the living room. She padded through in bare feet; she insisted on wearing nothing on her feet. It was an insult to the animals she remarked one morning over breakfast, they were born that way anyhow. Hardy argued saying she should go naked then. She'd dreamed of this with Steven Gregson the Communications Officer.
He couldn't believe it. A nuclear explosion over Washington DC? Why? Governance transferred to the military and the Agency hadn't been answering their e-mails. Everything shut down in the past hour. Steven turned and there she was, smiling at him. “What happened?” Fey asked.
“Looks like thing's got out of hand, down there. They were being overrun,” Steven sat on the lino chair and shook his head.
She closed the door behind her and locked it. She undid the jumpsuit and let it fall.
Steven stood and took a step toward her.
They hesitated for a moment, then she pulled off his shirt.
He had a thing for her. Oh. He’d watch her, in the changing rooms. Those legs, hips and breasts: irresistible. Now she was here in the flesh. He said, “What about Hardy?”
“Hardy's a fool,” she whispered.
They made love on the floor. There was no time for passion, it was pure and raw ending in a guttural roar. Then he said it.
“I love you. I always have,” he said stroking her hair.
“Yeah, well. Okay.” She moved from him and began to dress. They always told her that. Love? Infatuation was infectious. Hardy was a fool, so was Steven. He was as selfish as the others – only interested in his own orgasm than her. He was just as bad as Hardy. He'd spied on her while she showered. It seemed he was as shallow as the rest. She opened the door and walked out. He stared at a space on the opposite wall.
He sat; naked and spent.
*****. ****ing *****.
I love you. I love you!
She'd go back with Hardy. Oh my God. No. No. Steven took his log book and began to delete the pictures. Pictures of Fey laughing. Fey having a shower. Fey sleeping. An incoming message pinged on his dashboard. It was from the Agency. He decided to dress before reading.
Somebody from the Agency sent a private message telling them to stay where they were in orbit. There was no point in coming back to Earth. Whoever it was seemed desperate ending the message in 'God save us'.
He began to prepare the ship. First locking down all the doors. Overriding the security protocols with a scrambler. It would take Riggs twenty minutes to crack this from the mainframe. It would be too late by then.
The Oxygen tanks were being over filled and would rupture in five minutes. They would ignite and breach the station's hull. They were done. It was an orbiting coffin. No point. He suited up and sealed his helmet.
He could hear their protests up until the point of detonation. Then their screams were submitted to the cold, hard vacuum of space. He was flung across the room and battered inside the cabin like a ping pong ball, he was sure he could hear every snap of bone. The station broke apart and he was sucked out of the breach.
***
There she was again. Fey Borg, this time not smiling. A look of pleasant surprise on her face. Her kissable mouth a perfect o. She was frozen solid and the slightest of collisions from a micrometeorite would shatter her gorgeous body into millions icy particles. She yawed and twirled in a much slower motion relative to his.
He attempted to move an arm, but it wouldn’t budge. They collided and embraced; arm and leg entangled in a final moment of passion. “I loved you. I love you,” his mantra prayed to the stars that waited patiently.
