TW: PTSD, swearing.

Jack Dancer wept for his sins. Magnetised boots held him to the outer hull of the PD Anathema. Thanks to his efforts the deadly vacuum of space had raced into the ship with a bang.

In his space suit he was safe until his oxygen ran out, waiting for his ship. The Fairweather returned at full speed. He waited for five hours. Lost in guilt, Jack hardly noticed. He clutched his toolbox to his chest.

“You there, Jack?” said Captain Eliza Erdman using the radio.

He took a long time to respond. “I’m here,” he replied. He half wished he wasn’t.

Captain Eliza’s ship the Fairweather drew closer until it was only a kilometre away.

“Can you make the jump?” asked Erdman.

Jack didn’t answer. He leapt. Four minutes later he used his EVA suit’s atmospheric guidance jets to slow his movement. Hitting the Fairweather with his hands and knees, he felt his left ankle twist the wrong way.

“Fuck!”

“Jack? What’s wrong?” Captain Eliza’s voice rang with concern.

His footsteps clanged on the outer hull of the Fairweather, over the scars he’d left repairing the ship. His head hung low, shoulders slumped. The airlock welcomed him back. When the light inside turned green he threw off his helmet. The inner hatch opened.

“Well done, man. You were brilliant.” Max clapped Jack on the shoulder but the older man pushed the hand of the acne scarred blond away.

“Don’t touch me.” He made himself smaller, twisting to be away from congratulatory pats on the back.

Confused faces watched him rip himself out of the space suit and leave it there in the hallway. They had turned to save him the indignity as he removed the catheter and tubes that removed waste from the suit into the backpack.

“Copernicus is going to survive, Jack. You just saved thousands.”

“I killed dozens,” said the grizzled engineer, picking up his toolbox. He walked to the bedroom he shared with everyone but the captain.

He washed his hands at the tiny sink, scrubbing grime away obsessively.

Alone in the bedchamber he opened his toolbox with reverence. He parted the drawers of tools and boxed nuts and bolts sorted by size and type. He lifted out the removable tray and then unclipped the box beneath. The sealed tin sat in his burnt and scarred hands for a holy moment.

Clips released the lid. Inside, photos of his parents lay beneath a vacuum packed bear.

“Kuma,” Jack said, the word dispelling his fears, his pain and his guilt for a moment. He popped the seal. The squished face of the stuffed toy and the rest of the body inflated as air long denied to it filled the spaces between cotton stuffing. Jack watched his oldest remaining friend’s revival with tears rolling down his face again.

He curled up on his bunk, hugging the stuffed bear until he snored in a fitful sleep.

“He’s fucked up,” said Max, a silhouette in the doorway.

“Shush, he’s sleeping,” Doctor Annie Brie scolded the junior engineer.

“Why’s he so bummed out? He’s a hero,” asked the gangly blond.

“It’s a good thing, Max. I wouldn’t want to share a room with the sort of psycho who’d be okay after doing what he just did. He had to do it. He did it. That doesn’t mean he should be proud of it.”

Max moved closer, peering into Jack’s arms. “Is he holding a fucking teddybear?”

Annie peeked. “Looks like it. Never saw that from a guy like him.”

“Was he hiding that in the toolbox? Don’t know what you think about that, but I’d say that’s a bit creepy for a grown man. A bit weird.”

“We don’t know what he’s been through, Max. Leave him alone.”

“I will. Trust me there.” The acne scarred engineer smirked. “Teddy boy.” Laughing to himself Max got into bed. It had been a long day waiting on supplies held back by the blockade. Aid flowed down to Copernicus thanks to Jack.

“Who’s idea was the minefield thing?” Max asked. The once mighty Pierce Dynasty battlecruiser that circled Copernicus had been used to throw proximity mines that sat in low orbit into the atmosphere where they were destroyed. The ship itself would be repaired by Max. The young engineer hoped Jack would help.

“Captain figured the controls would be aboard. Weren’t even encrypted. Can’t access the weapons but that was probably Jack.” Doctor Brie looked at the snoring man lying in the fetal position around his stuffed bear. “Captain wants to give the ship to Copernicus. First of its own fleet.”

“Goodnight Doc.”

“Sleep tight Max.”

“Sweet dreams, Jack. You did it, man. Don’t beat yourself up about the bad stuff.” Max pulled his blankets up and closed his eyes.

Jack didn’t talk for a week. Stoic even by his usual standards. He patched every hole he’d put in the PD Anathema. Throwing up felt as natural as mealtime for that first week.

People congratulating him on his efforts, killing dozens of Pierce Dynasty marines were told to fuck off in no short order. Well wishers learned to be well out of his way.

In spare moments Jack studied for the engineering qualification Captain Eliza had paid for. Cramming in the official terms for things he’d named himself years before pushed out the waking nightmares. Burnt faces and dying screams snuck up through the cracks of his mind if he wasn’t busy.

Max Axel, who had the credentials Jack lacked, coached the older man in the jargon he needed to know. At times Jack broke down in tears without warning.

Multiple choice questions felt ridiculous when he thought about faces he’d seen in the dark. Soldiers who were enforcing the starvation of an entire world. Telling himself that didn’t help. At times he realised he’d been staring at a screen blankly for vast stretches, lost in guilt. One was a father itching to be home with his daughter. Jack had orphaned that girl, made a widow of his wife.

“What’s up with the bear?” Max asked after another silent day with the poster child for PTSD.

Jack’s blue eyes met Axel’s brown ones. “My parents gave him to me. When I hold him it feels like they’re still here.” Jack ate porridge. “I imagine what they used to smell like. I feel the love they gave me.

I was going to give it to my daughter.” Jack stabbed at the slop in his bowl.

“You have a daughter?” Annie Brie blurted loudly. Jack’s eyes couldn’t meet hers.

“Had.” Feeling as if he was being interrogated, Jack exhaled through his nose heavily. “I mean, she’s still alive as far as I know. Her mum, my ex, ran off while she was pregnant. I was just getting used to the idea of being a dad.”

“Did you-” Annie tried to ask.

“Go looking? Of course three years of nothing and I lost the trail.” Standing up, Jack shoved his bowl and spoon in the dishwasher.

The first unit exam for Jack’s engineering qualification was on safety.

Jack relived memories of watching friends and family dead with the stars the only light on their bodies. They spun lazily from whatever momentum they’d built in their dying moments.

He wrote his answer, wiping tears from his eyes at the communal table of the mess hall.

Jack saw a blowtorch in his hand. He remembered using it to fend off the soldiers of the PD Anathema.

“Fuck this.” He leapt out of his seat. “I can’t do it.” He kicked the door to the hall with a steel toe capped boot.

Clenching his fists he ran down the hallway to the air lock. Opening the door, he stepped in and closed it behind himself. In the soundproof space he screamed until his mouth was dry and his vocal chords burning.