Gerry drifted through space, slowly spinning, one more piece of debris in an expanding cluster. Karl floated nearby.
"Brilliant plan, Karl. Fucking brilliant."
Karl said nothing.
Gerry flexed the stiff joints of his spacesuit, old habit, staving off the muscle atrophy that set in under zero-G. Not that it mattered anymore. No one knew where they were - one of the many joyous hazards of unlicensed prospecting.
Karl had been safely inside the ship, unsuited. Dead now, of course.
Gerry checked his air. Two days.
He wondered which was worse, to die in a flash of terror, or in drawn-out anticipation.
Author bio: Life is, of course, dying in drawn-out anticipation. John Xero is a realistic optimist, he likes to believe the best will happen, but knows it probably won't. ;)