Tap Tap Tap

"Uhhh... captain? I... Can I... Your help please? Can I get your help here please?" Came the call over the radio. Wehyland's voice, and the intercom listed it as coming from the ventral airlock.

"Roger, I'm on my way." The captain clicked off her radio, and started moving weightlessly through the ship.  Some sections had artificial gravity, but not all. Decisions had to be made on the first long-distance crewed space mission. And gravity isn't always cheap.

It didn't take long for her to make it to the airlock.

"What is it Wehyland?" She asked before she rounded the corner. When she did, she saw his face white as a sheet. Staring out the small viewing port. He turned to look at her, and swallowed.

She tilted her head, and floated over. That's when she heard it. the faint tap. Tap. Tap.

Rhythmic, quiet. She furrowed her brow. Wehyland didn't speak, just floated slowly back, to let her look in the airlock.

She moved up, and stared inside.

There was a spacesuit in the airlock. And someone inside, banging on the thick airlock door with soft, suited fists. Tap. Tap. Tap.

She could see the face in the helmet. It was screaming. Begging to be let in.

She looked to Wehyland. He was terrified. She looked back into the airlock, and felt the cold rush of fear fill her veins.

The man in the spacesuit was crying now, as he pounded on the door.

The man in the spacesuit, was Wehyland.

To Dream

It's fun to dream.

Sometimes I dream that the sunlight that passes through the filtered glass on the ship, that washes over me in the mandated  light-exposure sessions is flowing over me in a beautiful meadow. That I'm laying in the grass in some secluded glen, while the sun passes behind dappling clouds, warming my skin and gracing me with a pure relaxation unlike anything I've ever felt.

But eventually I remember that I've never seen a meadow, or even grass. That my parents never saw a plant, and neither will my children. That in this dark space, between systems, the sol chamber is the closest we will ever come to that dream.

Some days it is enough. Some days it is a great sadness.

Some days I curse my ancestors who inflicted this life on me with their decision, and wish I could go back in time and tell them that any life is better than this sterile wasteland between the stars. No matter what they left behind, it can't be worse than this monotonous existence of artificial nothingness.

Some days I imagine what worlds my children's children's children will walk upon, the first humans to set foot on new worlds outside our home star. I dream what wonders they will see for the first time, and how the sunlight of that distant star will feel on their skin. Something I will never know.

But it is fun to dream.

The Space Is Still There

Wednesday morning, 3am.

I roll over, and look out the window.

The stars are still there. This is good.

I roll back.

The empty space is still there. This is no good.

I reach out into the space, try and fill it with myself. It is not the same.

Nothing is the same.

I pull the pillow down to fill the space. It is not the same.

But it is... similar. The pillow still holds her scent. Perhaps it will be enough.

I hold the pillow close to myself, feel it grow warm with my touch.

It is not the same.

Her smile plays across the surface of my mind, dancing through my thoughts like she would.

I kick at the pillow, pushing it out of the bed. I roll over in a huff, eyes shut tight.

When they open, she is gone from my mind.

But so are the stars.

This is no good. No good. No.

Good Morning

I'm in the observation capsule when my watch beeps out the six am alert. I lazily move my hand over to silence the device while I float.

There's nothing to observe, of course. Just the stars. The same stars that were there yesterday, and the day before, and all hundred and eighty six previous days of the journey. There hasn't been a single visible phenomenon since the day we left. And no-one was in the observation capsule to watch our world shrink then, that's for sure.

Some of the people on the ship find it unsettling. The inky nothing. The idea that we're travelling at unimaginable speeds but seem to be standing still.

I find it peaceful.

I twist in the air, rolling to look out another window.  Different stars. Sirius twinkles happily at me. Hi Sirius.

I don't come here every day, but I try. Today will be busy, full of struggle and conflict and hard work. But not yet. Now it's just barely morning, and I can float and watch the stars not go by.

A hand snakes its way into mine, and gives it a gentle squeeze. The warmth is nice. I look down and see Diego.

"Sorry Claire. Battery 33 is developing a sputter." I smile at him, and nod. We slide towards the ladder and I feel gravity start to pull at me again.

Good morning stars. I'll see you tomorrow.

Green Is Good

My lover's got problems.  She's screaming at me, and I'm having a hard time trying to care.

My eyes glass over while I stare at her pretty face.  She's real mad this time.  Not like last time. Not like the time before. So many problems. So much struggle.

I can't hear what she's saying. No, that's not right. I can hear it. I just... don't care. Why don't I care? I should care. I count on her for so much. For... everything. She's my whole world. I should care.

I have to care.

I force myself to care. I shut my eyes, and let the sound into my mind.  I know that voice.  I know those words.  They mean something.

Why is it so hard to think?

Who cares. Just... It's not... Who... what's the point?  There will always be more problems. Let go.

No. We care. We're caring now. THINK.

I open my eyes. They hurt, and the brightness of her beautiful face isn't helping. So much light. All red. Oh boy she's real mad. What is it. Focus.

Ox... oxy... Oxygen. I hear it. She's screaming at me about the oxygen system. Life support critical. Route additional power. Duh.

I shake my head slowly, and the whole console smears in my vision. That's what it is. Oxygen starvation. Hah. Duh.

I reach up, and flip the aux power routing switch on the big, beautiful face of my ship console, and she quiets down.  Oxygen starts flowing back into the cabin, and she stops whistling the oxygen warning at me. The console moves back from red to yellow, settling once more in green. Good.

Green is good.

Thanks babe. You're the best.

The Word of the Void

In the inky blackness of space, there are more things than you'd expect.  Don't get me wrong, there's a whole lotta nothing.  More nothing than the average human mind is capable of comprehending, for sure. But... inside that nothing... there's more than you'd think.

I'm not talking about neutrinos, or extrasolar radiation, or particles or whatever. Obviously they exist, and permeate the black. But still... you can travel a fair distance without seeing one of them.

No, the thing you have to watch out for is the nothing. Inside the nothing. Inside you. Being surrounded by that much darkness...mankind wasn't meant for that. We're creatures of the light, social things.

Dipping a mind into the black for so long, so deeply... there's a reaction. A chemical reaction. The mind corrodes, and the Word of the Void slips inside the cracks and lodges in the dangerous places in the brain. And once that happens... there is no going back.  No ammount of light, no ammount of love will knock it loose. The Darkness is inside you, and you are Darkness. You are the Nothing.  And you will heed its words.

There's a reason children are scared of the dark, and in the space between systems, you can see it.

Kingdom of the Void

The sound of silence wrapped itself around me like a calm storm,  taking away the horror of the situation while amplifying it.

The roaring rush was gone. The deafening explosive thunder had subsided, and I was left to drift in the pristine stillness while my saliva boiled away. The freezing cold on my face was punctuated by the growing heat on my back.  I stared languidly at the ship, as it pulled itself infinitely thin and vanished, silently.

I close my eyes, that I might be blind as well as deaf to my fate. And so I embrace the dark king, who's terrible kingdom is the infinite.

Please Specify

“She's a spaceship, not a rabid dog. She won't bite. Just go ahead and tell her what you want, kiddo.” He shouted back from the cockpit. The ship wasn't very big, just big enough for a single corridor stretching from the cockpit in the front to the galley in the back, with a door on either side.

“But...” How do you ask a spaceship to make you something that you don't know how to make yourself? “I... Okay...”

Felix had been alone for four months, trapped planetside. He hadn't always been alone. At the beginning, there were resources, and tools, and... family. But that seems so long ago. Better not think about that. Sentimentality makes you blurry, loses your edge. Gets you killed. That he knew.

But he wasn't planetside anymore. He didn't need to keep the edge. Didn't need to be the blade. Right?

He was standing in front of the food replicator still. Staring. He hadn't eaten anything he didn't find or kill himself in... longer than he'd been alone. He knew exactly what he wanted, but... to finally really get it...

“Space... ship. Computer. Space computer. Computer.” he coughed. He closed his eyes. It's fine. Just... ask and you can have it. It really is that easy. You're not dreaming, you checked. “Computer... I would like... a Hot Chocolate.”

“Please specify temperature”

Of course, there's always complications. “Uhh... hot. But! But not too hot. I want to drink it... now.”

“Please specify – White or Dark chocolate.”

“Dark, please...” The hope was draining out of Felix with each question. This was going to be all wrong, he could tell. It wasn't going to be right at all.

“Please specify- ammount”

“Uhhh... a mug? A mugs-worth? Enough to fit... like... in a mug.” He made gestures with his hands to indicate the size of a mug before he remembered it wouldn't help. Despair set in. This was a mistake. He would never have a hot chocolate like mom used to m... it didn't matter. His eyes shut again, heavy with defeat.

The Felix that drank hot chocolate wasn't Sharp anyway.

“Drink complete.”

He opened his eyes, to see a lightly steaming ceramic mug of hot chocolate on the tray.

It had marshmallows floating in it.

Just like mom used to do.

He smiled a little, and sat on the floor, staring at the mug.

And Felix cried.