Angela was dreaming of the Commander again when the Metispitched, flinging her from her bunk. Seconds later the klaxon barked and pulses of blue siren-light flooded the cabin. Dazed, she scrambled to her porthole to peer into the alien midnight, whose soft glow revealed the fizzing crests of a lethal current. They were accelerating, shuddering, out of control.
She braced with one hand and slapped at the intercom with the other. “Bridge, what’s going on?” There was no reply and no orders had been issued on the monitor, but Angela still hesitated before trying Rocha’s direct line. “Commander, are you there?” Had the woman really been in her dreams again? “Commander, this is Ashton, please respond.”
As if in answer, the hatch to her cabin shot open to reveal Rocha herself, shifting in and out of clarity with the sweep of the hazard lights, tall and poised despite the ship’s volatile motion. Angela experienced a bizarre urge to conceal the mess in her cabin even as the woman strode in and seized her by the shoulders.
“Listen carefully. I need your help.” Rocha paused for no more than a breath. “You got drunk and hooked up with the lead singer of Sola Nova when you were nineteen, and to this day you can’t listen to Fly To You without getting turned on.”
Angela’s cheeks burned and her hand went up in an ingrained response that had never once succeeded in disguising her shame. Rocha redoubled her grip, giving Angela a shake. “How do I know that?” The skin on the woman’s neck was taut and she didn’t blink. They were close enough to kiss.
“Commander, I don’t know. I never—”
“You told me to allow me to convince you that we’re in a fifty-four minute time loop that will keep going on and on forever unless you help me.”
Angela’s mouth fell open. The klaxon barked again, deafening her.
“Pay attention, Angela. You and I have been here before. I’ve convinced you before and you’ve helped me before. Fly To you is our ‘stitch in the loop’.”
“Commander, I—”
“Focus. I know you know what that means. You’ve read about it. Tell me what happened on board the Callista.”
“They… they got caught in a time loop in the Bayou Nebula. Marta Kullova was the only one aware of it. She… she—”
“Come on, Angela. She what?”
“She had Dr. Singh tell her a secret that nobody else knew so she could convince him about what was happening each time they reset. She called it their… oh my god.”
“She called it their stitch in the loop. Good. You’re with me.”
Angela shrugged out of the Commander’s grip, but the Metis rocked constantly in the current—without the support she stumbled and slumped onto her bunk. When the klaxon sounded again Rocha turned to tap a command into the monitor. The computer chimed and the pulsating blue light settled into a menacing glow. The roar of the waves pressed against Angela’s eardrums.
“I need your help,” said Rocha, kneeling in front of Angela, her voice raised above the din of ocean and stressed metal, but still clear and calm.
“We’ve really done this before?”
“A number of times. But we can escape this time, on this loop, if we work together. And no, it isn’t a drill or a prank. I promise.”
Angela gaped, the questions to those answers only just forming in her mind.
“And now you’ll say, ‘Why me? I’m just an engineer.’”
“Oh my god.“
Rocha put her hands on Angela’s knees. A shiver rippled up through her thighs and she stiffened involuntarily. Rocha either didn’t notice or pretended not to. “Listen, there’s a lot to explain. You may have noticed we’re caught in a whirlpool.”
Some uncontrolled exclamation rose towards Angela’s throat, but Rocha silenced her with a raised hand. “We can’t escape because the engines aren’t firing. I need you to fix them because that’s the only way we’re getting out of this loop.”
Through the porthole Angela saw darkness in motion, punctuated by frequent lashes of sea spray. The constant noise of it hammered her chest and made it difficult to think. “I don’t understand.” She found she had to raise her voice further to be heard. “We’re just doing surveys. How the hell did we get stuck in a whirlpool?“
“Because I ignored the warnings from Navigation and relieved the pilot for the night shift. The vortex came out of nowhere. As soon as the current grabbed us the time loop started and now we can’t break free.” Rocha nodded, as if to herself. “It’s my fault.”
“But why?”
“Look. You know we paid a hell of a fee for first access rights on this damn planet. I’m still not sure half the crew understand how much this could be worth.”
Angela had no idea how much it was worth. “But why the rush? We still have a month of early access.”
“The vultures are circling.” Rocha waggled a finger skywards. “All of our competitors have ships waiting in orbit. It’ll be a free for all the second the restrictions end. Our rigs have to be down here to claim the most valuable sites on day one, or it will all have been for nothing. That’s my responsibility.”
“And what? You thought by sailing us into a whirlpool you’d discover some magic mineral reserve or something?”
“It wasn’t intentional. I accept I should’ve been more careful, but I can’t un-do it. So let’s move on, okay?”
Angela stood, shoving the Commander away. “Move on? You’ve likely killed us all and you’re asking me to move on?”
The Commander’s chest rose and sank in a controlled exhale. Angela’s ex had breathed like that to calm herself down in the middle of a row.
“Something to say, Commander?”
Rocha seemed suddenly to diminish. The blue light limned deep tracks around her mouth and eyes that must have been there all along but now betrayed an intense sorrow. “I’m sorry. I really am.”
Angela became conscious that she was leaning over Rocha, breathing fast with balled fists, and felt ashamed.