NEW BEGINNINGS –Space Cadet

He’d been in the dark for as long as he could recall and now he was becoming more acutely conscious of things outside his personal control. But now he’d gone and lost the bloody handbook, he’d only had it on him a moment ago. He must have dropped it when the red light went on and things started to rapidly change and now the immediate space was too constricting to feel for it and his suit felt far too tight. He was afraid he wouldn’t remember what to do once he’d left the Mother Ship. He knew he should have made some notes earlier on and learned them off by heart. 

The walls surrounding him were slowly beginning to change, growing lighter and he could feel them squeezing, urging his departure and the escape hatch was only just in sight. He inched himself slowly towards it and then what? God only knows. Things were getting considerably unyielding now, he could feel himself being compressed and he had to get out. His body clock was ticking; he could hear it pounding in his ears. And now the stupid lifeline had somehow twisted itself awkwardly around his throat, constricting him, making things more difficult by the minute. 

He knew he would ditch that once he got outside, if he got outside, and now he could sense the light just beyond the hatch and he knew he had to go. What had they taught him at Space School, when he was nothing but an insignificant speck of nothing?  The drill sergeant had regularly called him that as well as a waste of both time and space. He desperately tried to recollect what he was supposed to do under these conditions. But all he could picture was the smug grin pinned to the sergeant’s stupid face instead.  And the hatch was narrower than he had calculated and he really hoped he wouldn’t have another panic attack. 

Please God. He’d failed once before and been sent right back to the beginning: aborted mission. So he was absolutely determined this wasn’t going to happen again, not ever. He’d let too many people down that time; there’d been an analysis, a thorough de-briefing, blame, a breakdown. And all because of one stupid panic attack. He would be able to breathe once he was safely outside. He closed his eyes then and prayed, propelling himself slowly forward, taking up the correct position with head down and arms and legs drawn in as instructed. 

This was his moment. He felt the constricting lifeline gently lifting itself off while almost still threatening to take him just as he emerged into the blinding light and took a deep significant breath of enormous relief. It was as if a million flashbulbs had suddenly gone off all around him and he was out into a new world; bright, glaring, noisy, safe. He was lifted up then, right above the rounded belly of the Mother Ship so he could take a good look at his home for the past nine months.

‘Congratulations Mrs Aldrin. It’s a boy,’ announced a voice.

‘Hello my little space cadet,’ whispered a soft voice which he immediately recognised. 

‘You’re home at last.’