A Solid Core of Alpha by Amy Lane

hyperspace.
    “Yeah,” Anderson whispered, looking at her apologetically. “They can’t. You guys… you’re my family.”
    Kate’s primary expression was the scowl, and now she leveled it at Anderson. “You’ve got two choices, baby. You can dock at that space station in…”— she looked at her console and did some mental calculations—“seventy-two hours and give fighting for us a shot, or you can stay in this shuttle until all life support systems deteriorate in forty-three Earth days and we all go under.”
    There was a terrible pressure on Anderson’s chest, the kind he felt when Alpha wrapped those strong, brutal hands around his throat while buried deep inside his body. He struggled for breath, and the now-familiar sensation of oxygen deprivation brought black spots in front of his eyes. A decision. The horrible kind. Who should stay and who should go? Which holograms would stay in the program, which ones would be canceled? Which songs could they keep in data banks to represent the mining colony; which ones would they have to hold up in painfully transcribed form on a tablet and let the holodeck recorders imprint? Which photos should he keep, as the data banks filled slowly with his day-to-day life aboard the shuttle? Which ones would he have to eliminate? Which days of his and Kate’s and Bobby’s life should he get rid of (if they could!) so he could keep the memories of people long dead?
    His vision got darker and darker, and he was aware that the sounds he was making weren’t entirely sane.
    It was Bobby who snapped him out of it. “Anderson… Anderson! Breathe, dammit, just fucking breathe! ” He punctuated the scream with two fists in the front of Anderson’s jumpsuit and a hearty shake. Anderson found himself breathing by reflex, by necessity, by the goddamned will to survive.
    Yes. He still had that. The will to survive.
    He must still have that. It was why Alpha stopped every night, just when he lost consciousness. It was why Kate and Bobby were still there, in spite of Alpha’s insistence that Anderson cancel their programs, and why Henry and Risa were there, too, running the synthesizers, and maintaining the data banks, and rotating on pilot duty.
    “I want you to live,” he said now, his chest moving, his breath evening out. “I want you to live. I want to live.”
    Kate was on the subspace frequency before the words were out of his mouth. He looked at her in surprise, and she glared at him. “Do you think I’m going to give you time to take it back?” she asked, and to his mortification, she was a little bit tearful.
    “I wasn’t going to,” he said quietly. “We’ll live, okay, Kate? I swear.”
    Kate wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Anderson, it wasn’t supposed to be like this,” she said softly, then, into the subspace radio, “Attention space station Hermes-Eight, this is space shuttle Cancer-Prime K-3-458, requesting permission to enter your space and dock. Please reply.”
    Anderson listened to her, grateful, as ever, for her practicality and acceptance, no matter what the circumstances. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She was right. If things had gone the way they were supposed to, he would have blown up with the rest of his colony, and this ship and its crew would never have existed at all.
     
     
    S OON enough the debris was gone, and Kate left the bridge to Henry and Risa, which always felt better than leaving it on auto-pilot these days. They were both given the firm instructions to call Kate, Bobby, or Anderson to the bridge in case anyone replied to their message, and Henry’s excited cackle at the news made Anderson feel better still. Risa actually beamed, clinging to Henry’s hand in tense excitement. Anderson bussed her cheek, ruffled Henry’s hair, and joined Kate and Bobby in their favorite scenario these days for small celebrations—the Frisbee golf throwing park for a quick game.
    Bobby was right: it had been a while since