Signals in the Static

18.5 hours to Thunderbolt – 2:30 p.m. Space Time

“Jacob, did you see that one?” Astronaut and Flight Specialist, Greg Fullbright hollered from his position near the direct nadir viewing window on the space station.

“No,” Commander Jacob Conner said. “What are you guys looking at?”

“I think you better get up here. You won’t believe it.”

Jacob climbed out from the cramped pod underbelly where he’d been fixing the water reclamation system—again. The system worked fine, but the thought of drinking recycled urine never stopped bothering him. Purified or not, it still turned his stomach.

“There goes another one,” Mark Kriespe, Pilot, said from the observation deck. “That one was brighter.”

“But smaller than the last,” Greg added. “They’re getting more frequent.”

Jacob pulled himself up so he could see out the porthole. His eyes widened at the view. Explosions rippled across the Russian landscape below. Half the countryside was dark.

Jacob cued in their Houston team. “Houston, are you catching this?” He only got static.

“No good,” Greg said. “We’ve been trying for ten minutes.”

Jacob stared as another burst of light traced a line through the darkness.

“At first they were green and yellow,” Mark said, “but now they’re red and violet. If we’re seeing this from 220 miles up, they must be massive.”

Jacob nodded grimly.

Greg leaned in. “It’s electromagnetic. Like an aurora, only on steroids. Red from nitrogen, blue from ionized particles. But something’s wrong. This isn’t normal.”

“The aurora doesn’t knock out power plants,” Mark yelped. “That explosion took out the eastern rail line. Vladivostok’s dark.”

Jacob felt the hairs on his arms rising. “Reminds me of the Carrington Event. Maybe that CME was stronger than we thought.”

“Let’s check comms,” Greg said.

Jacob drifted through the tranquility module toward the comm station. Everything looked operational—no warning lights—but the mic channel was dead.

“Try the backup link,” Greg called. “Different dish.”

“No response. Switching to emergency beacon.” Jacob’s heart pounded so hard, he figured it might just beat itself out of his chest. Their medical officer was sure to pick up his distress.

Silence.

Mark floated in beside him. “Maybe Boris or Vlad still have their old systems.”

Jacob nodded. “Let’s go.”

The Russian module was quiet. Boris was asleep. Vladimir looked up, probably surprised to see all three Americans coming to their section at once. “Hey, what happened to the network?” he said in accented

English. “I was just about to ask you.”

Jacob smiled tightly. “Links are down. Can you reach anyone on your Luch system?”

Vlad shook his head. “We haven’t used Luch since Mir. Maybe Lira. VHF.”

“Worth a shot.”

Boris stirred from his bunk as they explained. “What’s going on?”

Jacob pointed to the Russian’s side window. “Look outside. Half your country’s offline.”

Boris’s eyes widened. “No way.”

“We’re blind,” Jacob said. “Can you help?”

Boris nodded. “Sure. But you owe me.”

“Name your price.”

“You get me Debbie Does Dallas. NASA blocks all the good sites.”

The cabin burst into laughter. Even Yuki poked his head in to see what was going on.

“History books would love that,” Jacob chuckled.

Boris grinned, rolled aside his mattress, and pulled out an old desk radio. It looked ancient. He powered it on. Lights flickered. “Haven’t tried this in years.”

Crackling static filled the module. Everyone leaned in.

“Calling mission control. This is Boris Vasiliy aboard ISS. Anyone there?”

More static. Then—

“Boris who?” a man over the static said. “Did you hear that? He said he’s on the space station.”

Jacob grabbed the mic. “This is Commander Jacob Conner. Who is this? Where are you?”

A pause, then a stronger voice: “Mike Goodheart. Fargo, North Dakota. Are you really on the ISS?”

Jacob exchanged looks with the crew. “Mike, what’s happening down there? We’ve seen massive electrical bursts and we have no contact with Houston.”

“You’re not alone,” Mike said. “It’s been going on for hours. Most power is out. We’re on backup.”

“Any word on the cause?” Jacob asked.

A pause. Then: “You guys should know. You’re in space. Everyone here can see it… Maybe you should turn around.”

“Turn around?” Greg echoed.

Yuki was already at the opposite port. “Oh no…”

Blue streams of energy flowed from the ISS into space like spectral tendrils.

One by one, the station’s lights flickered and died.

Powerless and drifting, the ISS now orbited in silence.

Their descent had begun.

Before his air ran out, Astronaut Jacob Conner typed a message to NASA:

“Looks like we’re gonna be the first casualties of the oncoming planetary devastation. Goodbye and good luck.”