Metallic Kisses
With the passage of time, the omnipresent buzz of the generators - and God knows what else in the bowels of that cathedral of circuits - had become like a second skin. Funny how the white noise coming from the racks was indifferent to him and could, at the same time, launch its messages in the most modulated and subtle of languages, in a perfect symbiosis. After months, Ethan was instantly aware when something in the monotonous chanting cracked, foretelling one of the increasingly frequent system errors. He was developing a third ear in place of a third eye.
He just smiled at the thought, his gaze fixed on the secondary pylons n. 6 and 11, the last still working in the experimental orbital station DDG-31/DD-936 Decatur, renamed "The Decaf".
Silence was a mute vowel screaming inside him. Always. React to the atrophic thinking. Dodge the anguish, sharp like the debris of that day. The slashed modules were like scenic elements for a cheap movie. All the modules except his one. Follow procedures, rituals, checklists. All this to not raise his gaze and stare, right in front of him, the hangover of so much pain.
Castaway. At some point, he had renamed the pylons Romeo & Juliet. For each orbital period, about 90 minutes, the two arms were almost touching each other. A fleeting kiss and again far away. From the beginning of the mission, he had liked to play the game of renaming equipment and modules with funny nicknames. He allowed himself a slow sigh.
The inclination of the station displayed the earth down there. He had promised never to look in that direction again but the mauve colour, so iridescent, so alive, so omnipresent, took him by surprise once again. He thought for a moment that it was.. beautiful.. and the remorse for that thought flooded him soon after. Ethan hid his face between his hands as the tears surfaced and many names knocked on his heart's door once again. Inside him, a spark of curiosity wondered if it was possible to locate one of the 19 towers between the mauve nanoparticles' clouds.
“Ethan, I suggest that you sleep in 30 minutes. I detect slightly high levels of cortisol, are…”
“Thank you. I was going right now, old scrap”. He replied to the metallic yet familiar voice through the speakers.
He suddenly suffocated all those idle musings, it was time to rest. According to Querquobad, tomorrow was going to be the day.
Under my skin
In his dream Ethan heard the melody ... he saw himself floating in a tin can ... Melancholically he bathed in his bubble of sleep when a sudden noise cut through.
The engineers had taken the liberty of joking and placed the „Captain enters the bridge“ sound on the track that marked incoming communication. Ethan had thought about replacing this annoying sound, but hadn't got it across his heart.
Now he came up drunk asleep ... hadn't finished his resting cycle by now. So something must have happened. He slipped from the stretcher and pushed himself towards the console. Activated the speech connection.
It was Querquobad. "What's going on, Q?" Ethan had to suppress a yawn. "Sorry to wake you, but it's urgent! Plans all changed and ... we have a code 911!
It worked like a pour of cold water. "What? How could that happen? Is the shuttle on its way?"
"Positive. It will be with you in less than two hours! You have to prepare everything immediately ...“
„Good Lord“, Ethan interrupted. “I had hoped never to encounter a 911. Further details?
"No. We don't know how the crew is doing on board. But something is going on there! Nobody has reacted to our communication attempts for about ten minutes! ... My God, Ethan, if we can't throw the cargo out in time ... "
"I will follow protocol. Shuttle's on autopilot?"
"Yes and so is the docking manoeuvre. All you have to do is monitor it as usual and fine tune it. Keep me up to date. Good luck!"
Droping all athropic moods, Ethan got ahead as fast as he could, pulse high from the start of the wake-up call, fear creeping in.
Damn tower! Those know-it-alls, those risk lovers who imagined they could take on extraterrestrial intelligences. Now they would get it knocked out of their ears.
But concentrate! He quickly flew past Romeo and Juliet, maneuvering his way through the Jefferies tube until he arrived at 47, the docking chamber. On his way he ordered the old scrap: "Mother, music, please. Artist: James Darren. Title: Starting with I've got you under my skin. Play now!"
He had the checklist so far up his mind. Yes, he didn't have to ask Mother again, he had practiced it several times.
On no account should the docking lead to opening the inner lock! If the crew was no longer alive, the cargo was not safe. Above all, he had to push it off! Before entering the shuttle's command system, which Q would grant him, Ethan had to protect the station and himself.
In the following hour, he carried out all the actions prescribed by the protocol. One by one he ticked off while Fontaine's voice filled the room. At some point, silence. He checked the timer: another 14 minutes until docking. He had reported to Q several times and now activated the communication again: "Q, still no sign from the crew?“
No answer.
"Q?"
„Q, please report!“
Nothing.
"Q, please answer! I urgently need access to the shuttle computer! What the hell is going on with you guys?"
No response. The line remained silent.
For the first time Ethan had the feeling he couldn't make it. If he couldn't access the main computer, nothing could be done. ... Except, ... Code WEAVER.
Horror struck him. Nameless grief. Time bent.
Then this thread finally snapped and he said loudly, facing his planet:
"I am an astronaut, not a coward."
Another round from the 
Find the details & join the crowd.
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Title picture:
Von Helmuth Ellgaard, far till Holger.Ellgaard - Uppladdarens egna verk (uploader's own work), jag äger som son nyttjanedrätten, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=5976665
Second picture:
By Henrique Alvim Corrêa - Wells, H.G. War of the Worlds (1906, French ed.), Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1567389