Space's Silent Soliloquy

Dark themes and violence mentioned, maybe read this not on a holiday

Deep in space, a ship was stranded under the light of foreign stars. Not yet a wreck and not-quite derelict, its lights blinking the human code for distress, three rapid flashes, three slow winks, three rapid flashes again. For two days, it had hung alone in this unknown corner of the galaxy, her crew trying every possible trick to fire her engine once more, even if just long enough to confirm their distress signal was sent. Nothing had succeeded yet, and morale was approaching its first tipping point.

Meredith Fain, the ship's 'radio gal' and occasional DJ, was beginning to crack. As soon as the crew had righted themselves after a disastrous blind jump, she tried every channel on the comms station to find nearby buoys to hook on to. None were around, preventing any directed messages. Instead, she had to pull out the obsolete lightspeed lines, a rarefied variation of 19th-century telegrams. Incredible range, but only able to carry burst messages, with no control over who hears it. They were abandoned almost a century back but were growing in popularity again for emergency alerts, even with the drawback of alerting everyone nearby to your distress.

As the day ended, Meredith's Captain, Willard Fairburne, tried to relieve her from the lines. She wouldn't budge, barely stopping to eat the dinner brought to her, her hand tapping out the message over and over again. 'Morning' watch came around, and the Captain tried to relieve her once more, earning a knife in his arm in the process. Now, in the medical bay of the Farisa, he and the ship's doctor, who was also the cook, were talking about Miss Fain's behaviour.

"She's scared, sir. We all are, stuck heaven knows where in the black, little hope of rescue. If she's not at her station, she'd just be losing it in her bunk." The Doc, Farid Bin-Yulani, spoke softly, a man wiser than his seeming youth would suggest, as he stitched the stab closed.

"Yeah, she's a workaholic, we all are. She's never stabbed me over it before," Willard said, indignation staving off any shock response, "Besides she's not at her station. She's been on the lines for over 16 hours, typing away the same damn message the whole time."

"16 hours on the lines? Dammit Will, don't you know the danger that poses?" Farid was already out the door, Willard following him, forearm burning as the antiseptics did their work.

"She's eaten and drank. What's the problem?" he ran beside Farid through the ship, footfalls echoing through the corridors.

"Nothing physically. It's her head that's in danger. Space isn't silent."

Both men reached the comms room simultaneously, Meredith still tapping away at the lines. "Meredith? Meredith Fain? Can you hear me, Miss?" Farid spoke as though he was assessing her for a head injury, gingerly crossing the room to come closer to her. "Miss?" he tried to get her attention, passing a hand in front of her eyes before he clicked on a pen light. "Will, what precisely did you do when she attacked?" Farid was shining the light just outside of Meredith's view, hesitating to disturb her too much as she was tapping away faster now than before.

"I had touched her arm, the one she's tapping with. Had a knife in mine before I even had a good grip on her." He flexed his injured forearm, confirming again that he still had full use of it, as Farid let his pen light pass over the woman's eyes.

"Miss Fain?" Farid touched her shoulder, her face finally turning to his, her eyes unresponsive to the light. Her free hand took his in a gentle, loving grip as her other continued tapping out her message, a mournful smile breaking her face.

Captain Fairburne had sidled behind her, letting his wrist pad scan her message as she typed it. It was not a distress signal.

'I'm sorry.' were the last words either man heard from Meredith before she slammed her head into the desk hard enough to crush her brow ridge in a single blow, blood and cranial fluid spilling out as her hand slowly stopped tapping at the lines.

Will almost didn't notice Miss Fain's death, the message she had written absorbing him with each word his wrist pad flashed before his eyes. Immediately, nothing mattered to him but the message, not her death, not Farid's screams as he held Meredith, not even the Farisa mattered to him anymore. Just the message. Reading all of it was all he could think of, every line of its beauty, every digital pen stroke searing itself in his mind, even as the words slipped from his mind, never to be remembered. Yet it called him home clearer than any memory of his parents or crew. 20 years of living side-by-side with them couldn't grant him this peace as he read the message. Even as Farid pulled Meredith's body from the room and sealed the door behind him, Will didn't mind. Being alone just meant he could read the message all the more quickly. Until something Farid said pricked his ears.

"-I'm sorry Captain, but I've no choice. You'll be remembered."

Fury flooded his body, the message temporarily forgotten as he threw himself against the door, breaking every bone in his fists against the lock. He could feel the hum of the ship, and the floor and walls went quiet as Farid shut down life support in the room he was in. The message needed to be protected. Preserved. Everybody had to know the peace he'd felt. His last moments were spent flapping his broken hands against every screen in the room. None would turn on. Fear stopped his heart. The message would be lost. Gone. And it was his fault. Will would never be the same without it. Better to die than live without it. Will understood and knew why Meredith wouldn't leave her station. True beauty had graced his life. To lose it and live was too much to bear. He knew Meredith had thought the same. And he closed his eyes forever, much as she did.