Ephemeris

16 : Sixteen Sunrises and Sixteen Sunsets

The whole crew holed up for a couple of days in Zvezda. Sixteen sunrises and sixteen sunsets visited them each passing day. The communication instruments were hopeless at picking up signals.

Gale was staring at his reflection etched on a round window, drowning with morbid thoughts. Raw words desired to break free from his restrained pipes. He couldn't talk. His sullen irises were glued to the transparent surface, waiting for things to sort out. We want some answers! Some updates, he thought, breathing out air, blurring the clear window with his warm mist.

Vishesh popped the earpieces in and tapped a screen playing electrifying music. Pumped up, he grabbed the bungee cords, strapped himself to the treadmill, and switched it on. He ran for almost two hours, chiseling his hamstrings and gastrocnemii, keeping his fit physique. He knew that working out would not only tone his muscles but would aid him in getting rid of his worry. His sweat-slicked skin soaked the collar of his white sleeveless shirt. He smiled, and it was contagious.

Commander Song blushed. She saw his smile as he wiped the beads of dew off his forehead with the back of his hand. Emma hid her smile under her palm, blushing and giggling. "It must be the endorphins that kept him buoyant," she whispered to herself. Her heart swelled. She removed her sight from the beefy man, sucked a lungful of air, and propped an arm against a counter. Her fingernails tapped the counter's surface impatiently, resisting the urge to take another look at the handsome astronaut. She shook her head, composed herself, and then headed back to the onboard galley to check the food warmer.

Gao and Zhao were playing magnetic tri-dimensional chess while Qiao was concentrating on solving Sudoku puzzle number 336.

Zhao looked at the array of computer screens flowing with a series of commands as he waited for his turn. The stream of figures hypnotized him, locking his neck inert. He absentmindedly bit his lip.

The radio equipment hissed noises destroying Gao's cool and tactic to win the game. He was sucking at all levels. Then, he noticed that Zhao was occupied and engrossed with the waterfall of commands. And so, he initiated his scheme. He needed to cheat to beat him. A voice of temptation tickled his auricles, whispering to beat the pants off of the boaster before him. With the sleight of hand, he budged Zhao's white knight and rook, lifted his black bishop, went to a diagonal skid, and stuck the bishop's magnetic base checking the opponent's king. He interjected, "Checked!"

The exclamation startled Zhao, and he glared at the tri-dimensional chessboard. Gao's victory rocked him to his core. His eyes were wider than ever; however, he knew his knight and rook were not in the same spot he remembered. He gave him a stern expression. "Well, I accept my defeat," he acted as if his nerves were shot and his giving up. "King's to you, Gao!" he tossed the king to him and moved away, chin-up, showing that he was a more remarkable man and not a trickster like him.

The television display flickered, frequently cracking some screeching sounds. Qiao wrote the number eight to solve the Sudoku puzzle number 336. "Got it!" he shouted, then yawned. He saw Gao had the king on his fingers, examining it with his corneas hazed with struggles of moral judgments. Qiao drew closer to Gao, towering over him, and gave him haughty derision, "I know what you did," he spoke with contempt.

"What do you know?" Gao squinted his eyes, making it like two slanting lines drawn with a pencil on his face.

Qiao whispered behind him, "You didn't deserve the king."

Gao took a huge gulp of air. His subconscious was screaming at him, troubling him to accept accolades because it was true that he didn't deserve them. He hailed Zhao, who had finished relieving himself inside the space toilet. He tossed the king back to Zhao. "I can't accept that," he shook his head.