The Final Expedition

Day Fifty-Four

I entered the Zvezda Module, where Karpov was going through the motions of his daily ritual of trying to contact mission control.

“Mission Control. Do you read me? Over.” His voice had taken on a flat, bored tone as he clearly knew in his heart that he was extremely unlikely to receive a response now or ever. Probably for the purposes of morale more than anything else, he would spend half an hour in the morning and half an hour in the evening every day trying to raise Earth. He nodded a greeting at me as I joined him. The big Russian checked his watch and appeared to have had enough for the moment. With a sigh, he reached up and switched off the headset, pulling it from his head and leaving it floating near the communication station.

“You catch them at lunch again?” I quipped. Karpov smiled humourlessly, weariness in his bloodshot eyes. There seemed to be a little more grey at his temples, two or three days’ worth of stubble on his jaw and he didn’t seem to smile as much as when I had first met him. He approached his sleeping compartment, putting his hand on the door handle, before pausing for a moment.

“Carter.” He growled, turning to me. ”It has been brought to my attention that Dr Varennikova and you have recently become… close. Generally, this fraternising would be very much frowned upon, however I appreciate that the circumstances we all find ourselves in are unique and think you both deserve any comfort you can find in each other’s company. I believe everyone is aware of the situation, but I think it best if you were to keep things low key when in the company of the rest of the crew.” He moved closer to me and his voice took on a solemn tone.

“I will say this though, Carter. I’ve got to know her well over the past four or five months. She is a nice girl and I’m glad to see her happy or as happy as she can be despite everything that has happened. My only reservation is that if your relationship was to sour, she might fall hard. If that was to happen, it would incur my displeasure. Is that understood?” I blinked, feeling like a teenager meeting a girlfriend’s formidable father and sternly asked what his intentions were towards his daughter. As I looked into Karpov’s eyes, I half expected to see a flicker of humour, but there was only steel.

“Yes.” I replied, momentarily considering adding: ‘and I promise to have her back by midnight’ but thought better of it.

“Good.” Karpov turned back to his sleeping compartment and disappeared inside, the lecture apparently over.