Commander Elena Alvarez had faced many crises in her tenure—equipment failures, medical emergencies, once even a small fire in a sealed lab—but nothing had prepared her for this. She stood in the observation bay adjacent to Airlock A, steeling herself for what was to come. Through the reinforced glass window of the inner airlock door, she could see the figure outside clinging to the hull. The man wore an EVA suit identical to those on Janus Station, and even through the foggy visor, she thought she could see a familiar face.
Behind Elena, Juliet guided Michael from medbay into the bay, his movements slow but determined. He wore a lightweight pressure suit, helmet in hand, looking pale and tense. Elena's eyes flicked to him—this man she had just congratulated on a successful return not an hour ago, this man she'd seen lying injured. He looked back at her, confusion and defiance mingling on his features. The reality was unavoidable now: there were two of them. Two Michaels.
Devon stood at a wall console, running scans on the station's systems. His fingers flew over the keys, occasionally casting glances at the Michaels, his expression a mix of awe and dread. Sera hovered near the comm panel, biting her lip, her gaze darting between the outside monitor and Michael standing next to Juliet. The tension in the small chamber was thick enough to choke on.
Elena drew a deep breath. She was the captain; she had to lead. "Alright," she said quietly, "let's do this by the book as much as we have one. We treat both as crew members in distress until we know otherwise. Understood?"
There were nods all around, though none looked very reassured.
Elena stepped forward to the control pad by the inner door. First, she toggled the comm to the outer door speaker. "Michael—" she began, addressing the one outside. The word felt surreal on her tongue. "We're going to bring you in. You'll need to step into the airlock chamber when I open the outer door. Do you understand?"
Through the glass and via the camera feed, she saw the suited figure outside jerk his helmet in a nodding motion. "Yes, please… hurry," his voice crackled over the comm speakers in the bay. The desperation was palpable.
Elena nodded at Devon. He had already set the airlock controls to manual override. Normally, the station AI and automated protocols handled docking and entry, but CAL's logic might not handle this scenario well—or worse, might try to prevent something. They had decided to run it manually.
"Depressurizing airlock," Devon announced, hitting the sequence. A loud buzzer sounded and red lights flashed around the airlock frame, warning that the outer door was about to open. Everyone held their breath.
The video feed showed the outer hatch sliding aside with agonizing slowness. The blackness of space yawned beyond, and the form of the EVA-suited man clambered over the threshold. In the observation window, Elena could see him now directly: he stumbled into the small chamber, using the side grab-bars to steady himself. His movements were sluggish—likely exhausted and low on suit oxygen.
"Outer door closed," Devon said as the external view cut off and the lights on the panel turned steady red. The figure was now trapped in the airlock chamber, between the sealed outer door and the closed inner door which separated him from them.
Inside the airlock, the man turned to face the inner door window. His visor was partly fogged, but through it Elena could clearly see Michael's face pressed close to the glass, eyes wide with anxiety. He raised a gloved hand to bang on the inner door—then froze as he saw the people on the other side.
Elena watched as confusion and shock contorted his features. His gaze locked onto the person standing just to her left—Juliet, who still had a hand on the other Michael's arm. The Michael inside. The two identical faces met, eyes searching each other, mirroring disbelief.
For a moment, nobody moved. It was as if time itself had paused in collective astonishment. Elena could hear the blood rushing in her ears, an overwhelming awareness of the strangeness of the tableau: one Michael in a suit, outside but in; one Michael in a suit, inside but out of place; and the rest of them caught in between, witnesses to the impossible.
The silence broke with a sound from the comm speaker—a choked, incoherent exclamation from the airlock chamber. Then the Michael inside muttered, "Oh, my God…" under his breath. His face had gone ashen, staring at his double beyond the glass.
Elena forced herself into motion. She pressed the comm toggle. "Michael—outside—" she corrected herself, because how else to differentiate them? "We have you in the airlock. We need to re-pressurize before we open the inner door. Hang tight, you're safe now."
The man outside tore his eyes from his doppelgänger to look at Elena through the window. He gave a shaky nod and she could see his chest heaving as he tried to control his breathing.
Devon initiated the re-pressurization cycle. The airlock's pumps hummed, filling the chamber with air. The pressure gauge on the panel climbed steadily. It was perhaps thirty seconds, but felt like an eternity. Inside the chamber, the suited Michael slumped against the wall, fatigue overtaking adrenaline.
Elena turned to Michael who had been in medbay. He hadn't moved, his eyes were still glued to the figure in the airlock. "Michael," she said softly. It felt bizarre addressing him by name while another Michael stood a few feet away. "I need you to stand back for me, alright? Just a few steps."
He tore his gaze away and looked at her, confused and hurt plain on his face. "You… you think I'm dangerous?" he asked quietly.
"We have to be cautious," Elena replied, keeping her tone gentle. "We don't know what's happening yet."
Juliet squeezed Michael's shoulder. "It's just protocol for unknown situations. No one's accusing you of anything."
Michael nodded stiffly and stepped back with Juliet toward the far wall, giving space. Sera hovered near him, as if wanting to offer comfort but unsure how.
The inner airlock indicator turned green – pressure equalized. Devon looked to Elena. She placed her palm on the biometric scanner, authorizing the manual release. With a hiss, the inner door slid open.
The man inside the airlock had unlatched his helmet and pulled it off with trembling hands. As the door opened, he lurched forward. Elena instinctively stepped forward too, as did Devon on the other side; together they caught him under the arms when he nearly collapsed over the threshold.
The smell of sweat and a bit of burned electronics wafted from his suit. He was solid, real, and gasping for breath. Elena helped him upright. She took in his face clearly now: Michael's face, drawn and pale, eyes bloodshot, a minor cut on his cheek that the other Michael didn't have (she catalogued that detail). He looked at her, then over her shoulder.
His eyes fixed on the other Michael, who stood a few paces back, helmet off, staring with an expression of shock that probably matched his own.
"What the hell…?" the newly arrived Michael breathed. His voice was rough, cracking with emotion and dryness.
Juliet stepped forward carefully, holding up her hands in a calming gesture. "Easy, both of you," she said, as if soothing two skittish animals. "Let's not overwhelm ourselves. We'll figure this out."
The Michael they had just pulled in shook free of Elena and Devon's supporting grip after a moment, finding his footing. He pointed a gloved finger, which quivered, at his double. "Who… who is that?" he demanded, voice rising. "Why does he look like me?"
The Michael by Juliet blanched. "I am you," he said, almost a whisper. "I mean—I'm Michael Chan. Just like you. I… I don't understand either."
"Like hell you are," the other spat, stumbling forward a half step. Elena quickly moved between them, raising her arms.
"Alright, that's enough," she commanded, trying to inject authority. "Stand down, both of you! We're not doing this."
Both Michaels froze, though their eyes remained locked on each other with a mixture of fear and anger. Elena felt her mouth dry. She had never had to tell one crew member to stand down from himself.
Devon, ever pragmatic, cleared his throat. "We should get his suit off, check him medically." He gestured at the newly-arrived Michael whose knees still looked ready to buckle.
"Agreed," Juliet said, stepping to Michael's side. "Michael—" she paused, looking between them with a helpless air. "Um, EVA Michael, let's get you to medbay. I need to treat you for radiation and any injuries."