Free The Origami Dragon And Other Tales by C. H. Aalberry Page A

theory this
meant that every system had a set of redundant fail safes, keeping
the crew safe. In reality, only three of the systems were ever
working properly at any time. Station protocol demanded that all
five worked continuously, so Matt and Chen had to work endlessly to
fulfil their impossible orders.
    “We could just
ignore protocol,” suggested Matt one night.
    Chen threw a
pair of magnetic dice at the wall where they stuck with a double
bang.
    “A six and a
three, which means your battleship is in check,” he said, moving a
few pieces on the board.
    “I said we
could-”
    “-No,” said
Chen.
    They never
discussed it again. Matt knew that Chen was probably right. The
work had become an annoying routine, an endless ritual of replacing
fuses and analysing data. It wasn’t long before they could change
the fuses blindfolded. They made a game of it: Chen won six times
out of ten in the life-support, Matt seven out of ten in the
sensors room. The Anomaly never changed, and its thirteen second
cycle became imbedded in their minds.
    By the fifth
month they had given up all hope of something happening. They
passed the time as best they could. Sometimes they argued, but the
lack of other company meant that they had to get on or go mad.
Whoever had chosen them had done an admirable job, and they got on
extremely well for the most part.
    The two
astronauts floated aimlessly in the control room. Matt worked on
his chicken hat while Chen tried to get EarthControl to send
hamburgers on the next supply run. Such silly things were the only
way to prevent the dull life on Observer 3 becoming
overwhelming.
    The latest data
flashed on a screen overhead, unheeded. The astronauts continued
with their little hobbies until something made Chen stop
suddenly.
    “Something odd
just happened,” said Chen, glaring suspiciously at a dial.
    He clicked a
few buttons aimlessly, checking readout and wondering what it was
that he had seen.
    “What, the
restaurant finally said yes?” joked Matt.
    “No, really.
Something is wrong, but I don’t know what!”
    Chen grabbed a
computer console and began trawling through it, but Matt knew what
he was going to say even before the computers confirmed it. The
anomaly was silver.
    “It didn’t
change colour,” whispered Chen.
    “What-”
    Matt was cut
off by a stream of purple light that illuminated every corner of
the room in painfully bright colour. Sparks ran across the control
panels, and the room lights went dark. When Matt finally opened his
eyes, all he could see were the red lights of the damage control
panel. Chen groaned, holding his head as afterimages from the
purple light played in front of his eyes.
    Sirens beeped,
lights flashed and then died.
    A screen lit up
on one of the control panels, flashing. Matt read its message,
which said:
    “Emergency
protocols initiated: send message drone (7/9 remaining) Y/N?”
    Matt punched
the send key, a bad feeling in his stomach. He hadn’t ever used a
message drone before. It surprised him that they were still being
used: message drones were antiques, nothing more than a black box
on a rocket. Matt wondered why a station would need nine, and what
had happened to the other two drones. The Observer Station just got
a little more terrifying in his mind.
    Chen was
already trying to contact Earth through more conventional means. He
tried sending out a call using lasers and radios, but the systems
weren’t responding.
    “Not good,”
said Chen calmly.
    The station
fell into darkness unexpectedly as the lights died in the control
room. The station began to shake and spin. Chen moved over to the
emergency stabilisation jets. The station was kept in orbit by a
set of automatic altitude jets, but they had failed. Chen struggled
with the controls, desperately trying to stabilise the orbit as the
station was caught in unexpected tides of energy that pushed and
pulled at it its walls.
    Matt pulled out
his emergency flashlight and caught Chen by the