Seeds of Solitude – Room 101

This is in response to M’s fabulous prompts which you can see here.  These used to be 101 words.  Sometimes they still are.  Sometimes not.  They are often snippets, occasionally unfinished and sometimes simply the beginnings of something for another time.  Mostly though they are just whatever the words inspire

Two hundred and fifty miles above the Earth Rhoda thumbed frantically through the thick comms manual, static filling the research station’s cockpit.   

“Come on come on where the fuck are you” she muttered to herself, quickly flicking through the  schematics.  With both the main and secondary array’s knocked out she needed to find another way to get back online and she needed to do it quickly.

Looking up she glanced out of the low wide window which ran along the port side of the capsule. 

“Shit.  Shit, shit, shit.” She exclaimed, her mouth wide and fingers involuntarily losing their grip as the heavy manual clattered onto the metal flooring.  She pushed herself off and drifted closer to the window, her mind filled with the faces of Mal and the kids. Six months she’d given up for the chance to be up here.  Six months on her own.  Six months that were going to make a difference down there but now?  Did they even have any idea of what was coming?  

She closed her eyes and for a moment she was back home one last time.  Mal was making breakfast.  Pancakes.  They were mostly inedible but he was a good man and he tried and he was a better dad to the girls and a better husband to her than Dale had ever been.  And the kids loved him and that counted for a lot.

Before she could drag him back to bed Rhoda sensed a shift in the vessels trajectory and the ear splitting wail of the station’s proximity alarm dragged her back to reality.  With her heart racing she opened her eyes and looked out again and watched the white arcs criss-cross the Atlantic below.  If the Proximity sensors were working then she might be able to tap into those and …

“Oh fuck” she said realising it no longer mattered, picking out a single missile that had turned towards the station.

Closing her eyes suspended two hundred and fifty miles above home she helped Mal with the washing up and looked out onto the garden watching the girls play in the early morning sun.  And waited…

Author: Michael

Husband, dad,(ex)programmer, comic collector and proud Yorkshireman. I have no idea why im here or why im writing but i rather enjoy it. no great fan of punctuation; View all posts by Michael