The Station Master

Nera drifted until her harness pulled taught, halting her gentle flight through the vacuum.  Her breath was loud inside her helmet and the cheap visor began to fog as the temperature in the suit fluctuated again. She badly needed a new one but there was no room in the station’s budget. The margins she was working with these days were tighter than ever, threatening their independent status. Her suit could wait another month. They were having to cut corners everywhere now just to stay afloat and keep the corporate investment sharks out. She sighed, fogging the visor further. How sad that humans had managed to drag concepts like debt and fiscal management into space. The paperwork alone was enough to send her mad, but on top of that, the bureaucratic elements from Earth were clogging up her systems with incessant requests for archaic reports that hadn't been relevant in decades.  She slowly spun at the end of the well-worn safety line, losing herself in the sheer scale of the giant she faced. Jupiter, huge and malevolent, across whose surface, storm clouds miles high raged and boiled. Pulling and distorting the gases into fantastic swirls and eddies. The hull inspection could wait a little longer, while she allowed herself a few precious moments of solitude.

Helena Station, with its awkward angles and distorted bulges, hung above the surface of  Callisto, one of the many moons humans had colonised and then abandoned. It was here she had been born. In one of the many cramped pods that functioned as kitchen/bedroom/bathroom/all-in-one. But home was home whatever its form, and this was hers, alongside the other 2347 souls here. She had always dreamed of leaving for greener pastures ever since she was small, like those in the promotional Vids for the newer habitats being built closer to Earth. However in the last few years, she had come to realise that this would be where she would most likely die. And she was fine with that, she had come to accept it. This station was all she’d ever known, it was her entire world and you couldn’t miss what you had never experienced, so she reasoned to herself. Still, the pull to leave never truly fades.

Constructed in the early days of the second wave of colonists and prospectors making their way to the Kuiper belt and outer solar system, the station had been designed originally as nothing more than a service port and refuelling facility for the long haul freighters carrying cargo and warm bodies. It had gradually grown and expanded over the intervening years, thanks to its proximity to Jupiter and the gas mining rigs. It had also found a secondary purpose as a final destination for those that had nowhere else to go.

Nera let her tired mind drift. Zero-G always had a habit of pulling memories from her that she had thought long forgotten. She was once again brought back to thinking of Him. The memory of his face had been blurred by time and distance (a small comfort). He had asked her to leave, to go with him, pack up and start again somewhere new. They had been young and naive, yearning for a life outside of the recycled air and cramped corridors. She had wanted to go but she couldn’t. She was anchored here. Maybe it had been a fear of the unknown. Or maybe it was just stubborn stupidity, clinging to a life she had convinced herself she couldn’t escape. She shook her head to clear the tears that had formed. The worst was that she still remembered his scent, and the feel of his skin on hers.  The coarse hairs of his patchy beard that rubbed when they kissed. His youthful vigour, not yet ground down by the daily struggle of life. This is the version of him she would forever remember. Bittersweet and painful.

The station slowly spun back into view. Very little of the original structure remained.  Most of it had been subsumed or cannibalised over the years. She could see the bright sparks from the arc torches of the crews who went about their neverending repairs, and the construction gangs adding yet another cluster of habitation pods and external relays to the superstructure. It was her job to wrangle these different teams to their respective tasks and keep them on track. And she was good at it. She knew every inch of this station inside and out.  Its quirks and ticks, who it liked and disliked. She was master of this capsule of warmth and light. If it was taken from her she would be nothing. Or so she told herself each time life added another year to her age or scar to her body. Just another reason for not leaving.

She often fantasised about unclipping the cord and letting herself float free from it all. To lose herself in the vast nothingness until her life support gave out.  Yet a fear from deep within gripped her and always pulled her back from the edge. Coward. Never able to change. Never able to leave. Never able to let go. She knew she couldn’t, too many people relied on her. And worse, it would make her mother cry. There was no forgiveness for that.

The comms unit inside her suit blipped and dragged her from the darkness.  It was Grix, updating her on the incoming convoy. His rough voice, comforting in its familiarity and solidity. Between his cussing and grumblings she could hear the concern for her in his voice as he requested a status update. She never had been able to get him to follow comms protocol.  She sighed and hit the retractor at her waist, starting the little electric motor that would reel her back in. Her duty called.