Pilot7893
Epik spaec mishun!
For English, we have to make a suspence story. I decided to make mine about a murder on the ISS. It's not really a novel, but I think it has a pretty good storyline. Tell me what you think. If it's good enough by you and the teacher, maybe I'll make it into an Orbiter film.
Out in the cold, vast vacuum of space, there lays a manmade oasis of life. The size of two football fields, it is all that protects seven astronauts from the final frontier. Floating 217 miles over civilization, it is ultimate isolation. The kind of isolation that could drive a man to madness. This is the story of a survivor of the biggest disaster in the history of manned space exploration.
January 23, 2009 started out like any other day onboard the International Space Station. I woke up, having found I had detached from my sleeping harness in Destiny and drifted to Zvezda. I found a can of food and had my breakfast. I looked out the window and found we were over New York City. I went over to Columbus to check the scientific experiments. Some exposure experiments on the external rack were due for retrieval today, so I suited up and made my way to the Quest airlock. When I reached the external rack, I found the most disturbing thing I had ever seen in my life. The Soyuz pilot, who hade brought me to the station and was to pick a crewmember up, was dead. He was strapped to the rack, with a note stapled to his chest. It read as following-
“Whoever finds this first, I have no regrets. The Eastern world has taken my life, my family, everything but my job. So I will take back what is mine. I will have revenge.”
I immediately grabbed the experiments, rushed inside, and told my fellow crewmembers. “What does this mean?” John asked. John was in charge of commanding the space stations robotic arm. “It means someone on this station,” I replied, “Is a murderer.” Everyone went silent. “What do we do?” Sirgoff asked. Sirgoff was the second EVA specialist. I was the first. “We call Houston,” I said. “We get them to pick us up as quickly as possible.” I called them and told them what had happened. “We will start preparations for an emergency shuttle launch immediately,” they said. “Expect to be picked up in 3 weeks.” I told the crewmembers what Houston said. “So we must live with a psychopath onboard a small line of pressurized containers for 3 weeks?” Sirgoff asked. “I’m afraid so.” I replied.
The first week and a half went ok. I was working on the zero-G biology lab, when John came rushing in. “There’s been another one!” he said. I knew what he meant. “What happened?” “I was practicing with the arm, when I noticed something on the end. I used my binoculars and it was Sirgoff! I didn’t know what to do!” “I’ll tell Houston” I said. “Well, this is uncanny.” Houston said, “We will have to get you back faster. 3 days is the new schedule.”
We had the shuttle in visual range finally. “I finally feel safe,” I told Harold. Harold was technician. “You shouldn’t” he said. “It’s you!” I exclaimed. “Yes.” “Why? Why did you do it?” “It was revenge. If you read the note you would have known that. My wife had gotten into an argument when I became part of expedition 18. She worried I wouldn’t have enough time to look after the kids. The argument led to a divorce, and she married a Russian man. In the divorce, she got everything I had. My house. My children. Everything except my job. I took revenge on the only Russian that was at fault. He was mocking me over the divorce. Sirgoff was getting suspicious, so he was taken care of also.” “Well it doesn’t matter, because the shuttle has just docked and I can now get out of here.” I told him. “Ha! Good luck getting to that hatch alive!” he said, before taking out a knife. I pushed off the Zvezda wall as hard as I could. Luckily for me it was a straight path from the wall to the shuttle hatch. He took off after me. I made it in, and the shuttle commander slammed the hatch shut. We heard a loud thud on the door, and we undocked. Harold was left alone on the station, where he could not harm us any longer. We touched down safely at Edwards Air Force Base, where I got out to meet my wife and children. “I had just disembarked when a Soyuz capsule landed just on the tarmac next to us. “No.” I muttered quietly. The hatch burst open and Harold stepped out. “Did you really think you could get rid of me that easily?” he said. Everyone knew he was the murderer and ran away screaming. Luckily, a SWAT team was getting a tour of the base when the shuttle landed. They managed to get him in custody and he was put in jail for life. John and me were the only survivors. Our hearts go out to the two crewmembers who perished. But we are safe at home. That is all that matters.
Out in the cold, vast vacuum of space, there lays a manmade oasis of life. The size of two football fields, it is all that protects seven astronauts from the final frontier. Floating 217 miles over civilization, it is ultimate isolation. The kind of isolation that could drive a man to madness. This is the story of a survivor of the biggest disaster in the history of manned space exploration.
January 23, 2009 started out like any other day onboard the International Space Station. I woke up, having found I had detached from my sleeping harness in Destiny and drifted to Zvezda. I found a can of food and had my breakfast. I looked out the window and found we were over New York City. I went over to Columbus to check the scientific experiments. Some exposure experiments on the external rack were due for retrieval today, so I suited up and made my way to the Quest airlock. When I reached the external rack, I found the most disturbing thing I had ever seen in my life. The Soyuz pilot, who hade brought me to the station and was to pick a crewmember up, was dead. He was strapped to the rack, with a note stapled to his chest. It read as following-
“Whoever finds this first, I have no regrets. The Eastern world has taken my life, my family, everything but my job. So I will take back what is mine. I will have revenge.”
I immediately grabbed the experiments, rushed inside, and told my fellow crewmembers. “What does this mean?” John asked. John was in charge of commanding the space stations robotic arm. “It means someone on this station,” I replied, “Is a murderer.” Everyone went silent. “What do we do?” Sirgoff asked. Sirgoff was the second EVA specialist. I was the first. “We call Houston,” I said. “We get them to pick us up as quickly as possible.” I called them and told them what had happened. “We will start preparations for an emergency shuttle launch immediately,” they said. “Expect to be picked up in 3 weeks.” I told the crewmembers what Houston said. “So we must live with a psychopath onboard a small line of pressurized containers for 3 weeks?” Sirgoff asked. “I’m afraid so.” I replied.
The first week and a half went ok. I was working on the zero-G biology lab, when John came rushing in. “There’s been another one!” he said. I knew what he meant. “What happened?” “I was practicing with the arm, when I noticed something on the end. I used my binoculars and it was Sirgoff! I didn’t know what to do!” “I’ll tell Houston” I said. “Well, this is uncanny.” Houston said, “We will have to get you back faster. 3 days is the new schedule.”
We had the shuttle in visual range finally. “I finally feel safe,” I told Harold. Harold was technician. “You shouldn’t” he said. “It’s you!” I exclaimed. “Yes.” “Why? Why did you do it?” “It was revenge. If you read the note you would have known that. My wife had gotten into an argument when I became part of expedition 18. She worried I wouldn’t have enough time to look after the kids. The argument led to a divorce, and she married a Russian man. In the divorce, she got everything I had. My house. My children. Everything except my job. I took revenge on the only Russian that was at fault. He was mocking me over the divorce. Sirgoff was getting suspicious, so he was taken care of also.” “Well it doesn’t matter, because the shuttle has just docked and I can now get out of here.” I told him. “Ha! Good luck getting to that hatch alive!” he said, before taking out a knife. I pushed off the Zvezda wall as hard as I could. Luckily for me it was a straight path from the wall to the shuttle hatch. He took off after me. I made it in, and the shuttle commander slammed the hatch shut. We heard a loud thud on the door, and we undocked. Harold was left alone on the station, where he could not harm us any longer. We touched down safely at Edwards Air Force Base, where I got out to meet my wife and children. “I had just disembarked when a Soyuz capsule landed just on the tarmac next to us. “No.” I muttered quietly. The hatch burst open and Harold stepped out. “Did you really think you could get rid of me that easily?” he said. Everyone knew he was the murderer and ran away screaming. Luckily, a SWAT team was getting a tour of the base when the shuttle landed. They managed to get him in custody and he was put in jail for life. John and me were the only survivors. Our hearts go out to the two crewmembers who perished. But we are safe at home. That is all that matters.
better than what I can write
