(2022/10/12)
The massive ship thrummed through the empty abyss of space. The deep black emptiness devoured the windows, only distant stars broke the monotony. They were light-years from any planet.
They had been trapped for forty-six days. The catalytic compressor had suffered a major malfunction and had shut off all hyperspace movement functions. For now, they were gliding through space at a rapid pace of forty-one light-years a day. The speed wasn't the problem, turning was. They were stuck in a straight line, unable to turn anywhere, their angle was off from where it should have been--even the most minute deviation from their starting angle could throw them millions of light-years off course. There was nothing they could do, they were trapped.
The water supplies were running deathly low, after forty-six days of rationing food and water, the crew had finally scraped the bottom of the barrel. But they weren't even close to their destination, or a planet. Even, if they could reach the near vicinity of a planet, they would be traveling far, far too fast to dock.
They were hopeless. They had no escape. They were doomed to die in space.
The admiral leaned back in his rigid chair at the front of the space deck overlooking the front mass of the ship. A sense of pain and begrudging fear rained over his eyes. They were going to die, and there was nothing they could do to stop it.
Four-hundred and twenty-five people, and they were all going to die. He couldn't possibly comprehend what to do.
He slowly stood up from his chair and looked out onto the front of the ship. This would remain floating through space for eons, it would be a vessel of corpses, their rotting bodies would see more of the universe than most humans could ever imagine.
Out in the deep-black space, the view remained mostly the same. It was full of twirling, twisting stars as they rapidly zoomed past their view. They came nowhere near planets, space was just far too empty. According to the ships calculations, in thirty weeks, they would come within a quarter of a light-year from a planet, but that was as close as it got. And besides, they would all be gone by then.
He reluctantly tore this eyes away from the windows, he pulled on his admiral coat and walked through the double doors, out into the pearly white halls.
Men and women saluted him, and he returned it with a terse, short nod in their direction. A dull, throbbing despair coursed through his veins. He had no answers except one. They were doomed to fail. Him and all of the people in this ship would die. The crew expected him to bring them together and heroically save their lives, but he could not. They would die, and it would be his fault because he could not save them.
And now he had to announce it to them. He had to announce their deaths. He could already imagine their reactions, he could imagine the riots, the deaths, the killing as everyone realized that there was no longer reason for order. People would attack the food supplies and steal it, gangs would form, the weak would starve, the strong would thrive. But then, after their games, they would all die of starvation. It was inevitable.
He marched solemnly down the halls, everywhere he went, salutes met him. They wouldn't be saluting him if they knew what he had to say. Nor would they salute him if they found the empty abyss of despair where his heart should be. They would hate him, and he would accept it because he knew they were right.
The sound of his footsteps echoed pointlessly throughout the halls. There was no reason for any of this, especially if was all to end like this. When he reached the doors of the stage, more crew members greeted him with salutes. He smiled, although anyone could see that it did not quite reach his eyes.
The doors automatically slid open and he marched through, out into a back room--to the side of the stage where he would deliver his speech. The door shut behind him, leaving him alone from the hopeful stares.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the still-hot speech he had just printed. He fumbled through the pages, his hands shook violently the entire time. He didn't want to do this, he didn't want to tell these helpless people they would die in space.
There were families and children, and they would die at his weak, inept hands. He was far too weak, far too slow-minded, far too unprepared to deal with such a situation, and he would pay dearly.
He frantically paced around the room, his feet fumbled for sturdy ground, but he could find none. Everywhere he stood, he wobbled on his feet, his knees trembled, sweat built at his hairline. He wasn't ready for this.
The sounds of distant chatter rang from the theater. What used to be a lively and energetic gathering was now an agitated, awkward meeting, full with the impending sentiment of death. Their voices were dull and deflated of any life, almost as if they were already dead. They could sense the hopelessness, but he was about to slam the final nail into the coffin. He would sever any semblance of hope. He knew why it had to be done, but that didn't make it any easier.
He didn't know what to do, he didn't want to walk out that door and on to the stage, it was the last thing in the universe he wished to do. He debated endlessly with himself. He hated that he had made himself do this, they would be better off not knowing they were doomed to die.
The lights in the room changed from red to green--the signal that it was time for him to make his speech. His hands tightened around the papers, crushing them in his iron grasp.
Sometimes, he just had to be a man; they needed someone strong. It didn't matter how much he didn't want to walk out onto that stage, he had to be strong. He would show no one his weakness. Slowly, stiffly he straightened his back. He flattened the papers. He relaxed his expression into a perfect facade of confidence.
Chin up, back straight, he was fully prepared and ready. He let out a long breath of air and took the first step towards the door. He walked the entire way, wanting to back out the entire time, but he knew in his heart that they needed to hear this. And they needed him. They needed an immovable leader to stand with them as they died proudly. He would not let his ship fall into chaos, they would die in dignity. He knew it as a fact. With a final step, he pushed open the door and stepped onto the stage.
His air of authority immediately stifled the chatter. It was replaced with a solemn, but hopeful energy. The hope would not last long.
He passed bodyguards fully armed in space armor, they saluted him and he nodded with a perfectly precise imitation of control. He marched out to the podium, the guards flanked him.
What seemed like the entire ship was in attendance. If he could have guessed the number of people it would have been a thousand, but he knew better, the crowd always looked larger from the stage.
Their haunted but hopeful faces peered up at him. They stared at him as if he were a god, a god who could do anything, fix anything, and save anyone. He could not, and they would know it after this.
He cleared his throat and hesitated. He had simulated this in his head before, but being up here and seeing their faces was something completely different. He tore his eyes from the crowd and down to the papers in his hands.
He read the first words in his head, still hesitating. There was no point to this, he wanted so dearly to walk off the stage. But he couldn't, not now. It was time to be strong.
"To you all, the most amazing people of this grand and honorable ship, I speak to you now," the next words of his speech sifted past his brain, he couldn't keep track of them. Under any other situation the speech would have been perfectly ingrained into his mind, but he couldn't remember a single word now. He cleared his throat again and glanced down to the paper, reading from it.
"This is no longer the time or place for empty words and lofty ambitions, this is the time for the truth..." he hesitated again. He glanced at the crowd and found them utterly dumbfounded. This was their fearless leader, and he was fumbling over a simple speech.
He knew he was losing them, this was not going to plan at all. They would not follow him like this, he was weak, this was not a leader, this was a coward.
He steeled his eyes against the crowd and opened his mouth to read the next word. But something inside of him just snapped. A sudden surge of anger exploded into his body, the injustice of this situation transcended into his hands set fire to his soul. Here were the people of his ship, who had followed him through thick and thin, who had been as loyal and as loving as any admiral could ever wish for, these were his people. And yet, he was standing in front them, a coward, delivering a tense, scripted speech.
He balled his hands into tight fists and--without thinking--tore up his speech.
The crowd gasped in surprise, but an overwhelming sense of energy rushed into their souls. This was something different, nothing like this had ever happened before. This was their leader, who followed a strict code of rules, who could speak the most beautiful and lush words possible, who had led them through everything, and here he was, going off script. This was something he simply didn't do. He was always perfectly coordinated and planned, he simulated everything before it happened. This was an anomaly.
"There is no need for such things," he said. "This is hard for me to say to you. You all have treated me with the utmost respect. You have been more than I could possibly wish for. But I am sorry, for the news I must now bring to you.
"There is no fixing this ship, we have tried time after time. But it simply cannot be done."
He steeled himself for what was to come. "We will die here in space, there is nothing that we can do to stop this inevitability."
The crowd exploded into roars of frantic gasps for life. They could not believe it, it was not possible. Shocked faces stared up at him. People raged and cursed. Some hurled insults, some jumped up in their seats in anger. Mothers hugged their children tight. A rare few accepted their deaths with solemn stoicism. Tears flowed, jaws dropped, fists raised.
The two bodyguards at his sides formed closer ranks around him, protecting him from any potential attacks. They were thinking in the right direction.
He regarded the crowed with a gentle, solemn stare. Their reaction was justified, he would have reacted the same way.
The screams and tears and shouts and jumbled words of emotion ensued, they didn't die down, only intensified. He bit back at his tongue, he wouldn't interrupt them, he would try to make himself look more heroic. They deserved to have someone to hate, they needed to blame him, for their sakes.
After a full minute of despair and anxiety, he spoke up. "My people, I have one last thing to say," to his full surprise, their voices slowly died down. "Yes, we will die, but to our ends we will die in honor. We will not fall to treachery, nor will we fall to anarchy. We will die with honor. My faith in you all is endless. There is no other crew I would rather die with. I am truly honored to have this gift from god. We are family, I consider it an honor to die with my family. Please, my people, I have one final word for us all. We must die with honor," he stared out into the sea of faces and let his final words settle.
Slowly, a rolling, tumbling avalanche of applause thundered throughout the crowd. Roars of love cried out. His jaw dropped, his arms fell limp by his sides, raw confusion surged through him, his eyes shot wide open. He felt utterly numb and the tips of his fingers tingled with a pleasurable buzzing sensation. He couldn't understand what was happening.
The applause compounded and got louder and louder until it filled every inch of his ears and bounced endlessly throughout the synapses of his brain. He quickly shut his jaw and recovered a facade of confidence.
But he couldn't keep up the act for long. The corners of his mouth twinged upwards and tears built in his eyes. But then, he let his restraint go, there was no point to it. His heart raced with pure love, and with a breath of life a grin split his mouth. He let his tears flow openly.
These were his people.
