A bitter regret seized Gan, gnawing at the edges of his frantic thoughts. His mind chastised him, a harsh internal echo reverberating within the confines of his consciousness. If only I had replenished my suit’s oxygen after the last spacewalk…

  The thought hung in the air like a ghost, teasing him with a solution that was now beyond his grasp. He could almost feel the soothing rush of oxygen flooding into his lungs. If he had just taken the time to refill it. It would have bought him the precious minutes he needed, a temporary respite to mend the damaged door and the glaringly gaping hole.

  His mind whirled as he tried to unravel the mystery of the sudden breach. “What on Earth could have caused that hole?” he mused. A cascade of possibilities tumbled through his mind. Could it have been a freak chemical reaction? A stray fragment of space debris? His scientific curiosity was piqued, but there was a grim irony to the situation. Here he was, possibly facing his last moments, and his mind was consumed with deciphering an enigma that might not even matter.

  Shaking his head, he forced himself to push aside the unhelpful speculation. “Focus, Gan,” he silently admonished himself. Worrying about the cause wouldn’t seal the breach or restore his depleting oxygen. His life was hanging by a thread, and he needed every ounce of his concentration to pull through. As much as he wished otherwise, answers would have to wait. Survival couldn’t.

  He needed to seal the Galley door so that vital oxygen would quit being leached outside of the Valtorian. What could he do to lubricate the latches? Where else might there be some oil or lubricant? Was there anything in Engineering or other areas of the ship?

  With desperation mounting, Gan’s mind raced as he concocted a daring plan. It was a long shot, but it was the only option he had left. Taking a deep breath, he launched himself back through the zero-gravity environment, his arms propelling him with as much force as he could muster. He had to contort his body several times to avoid floating objects, but he pushed through.

  Gan reached the Galley door just in the nick of time. A cold sweat dripped down his face as he hastily released the bottom manual switch and threw his entire body weight against the door, forcing it open.

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  “The oxygen reserves are depleted. Farewell, Captain,” Pelve uttered in a somber tone over the Galley’s intercom system.

  Not. Now. Pelve. Not. Today, Gan thought. If he got out of this dilemma, he would really need to talk to Pelve about his motivational speaking.

  Gan’s heart pounded in his chest. This had to work.

  As soon as the door was wide enough, he hurtled himself into the room, immediately making his way to the overturned meal prep station. The force of the explosion had scattered its contents across the room. Frantically, Gan rummaged through the debris until his hand clasped around the familiar shape of a cooking oil spray container.

  With each labored breath, the pain in Gan’s lungs intensified. It was akin to inhaling shards of ice, the frigid burn a cruel reminder of the dwindling oxygen supply. His body cried out for the precious gas, his muscles straining against the growing hypoxia.

  He clung tightly to the canister of lubricant, but in his haste and growing fatigue, his grip slackened. The container slipped from his fingers and started floating away in the zero-gravity environment. Despite the disorientation brought on by the oxygen deprivation, Gan was able to twist his body and reach out to grab it again. A task ordinarily so simple was now tainted with an edge of desperation.

  The room seemed to pulse and warp around him as he darted back towards the Galley door. His peripheral vision started to shrink, everything losing focus as if he were gazing through a clouded lens. The room narrowed to a mere tunnel as his field of vision dwindled. His head throbbed, a dull drumming against his temples, a painful metronome ticking away the seconds he had left.

  His skin was slick with a sheen of sweat despite the cool temperature in the ship, his body overheating as it tried to compensate for the lack of oxygen. He felt a chilling numbness begin to creep into his extremities, his fingers growing stiff around the canister. Each heartbeat echoed loudly in his ears, the cadence slow and ominous.

  The world was growing dimmer around him, his senses beginning to dull. But his determination did not falter. Upon reaching the door, Gan depressed the container and doused the top switch with a generous spray of the cooking oil. Then he applied some to the doors tracks on both the top and bottom. With every ounce of strength remaining in his oxygen-deprived body, he threw himself against the door, forcing it shut. This time, thanks to the oil, the door closed with little resistance.

  His heart hammered as he attempted to lock the top latch. If it didn’t work, he was a goner. His vision continued to falter, but with a final, desperate push, the latch clicked into place!

  Gan collapsed to his knees and struggled to secure the second latch. Mercifully, it, too, snapped shut as it had before. And then, darkness enveloped him as he lost consciousness. The seal, though, was air-tight and oxygen started to replenish and flow about his ship.

  Valtorian? Thanks for reading, and stay tuned for the next chapter!