Close the Hatch

A mishap on a ship of alien colonists leads to a slight change in plans.

“Close the hatch!” Rel screamed, his voice drowned out by the rushing air. The lights flickered as another tremor rocked the ship.

 

Rel had not been awake long, plunged to consciousness in a shower of pain brought about by the shock of rapid, premature regeneration. Imagine being in a pitch black room for hours when a light as bright as the sun comes blazing into your eyes. Imagine every cell in your body experiencing the same sensation. Rapid, premature regeneration.

 

Rel fought off waves of nausea and pain while struggling to make sense of an array of sights and sounds. Sirens. Colors. Pulsating. Swirling. There’s the nausea again. Focus. He struggled out of the stasis pod, falling against the dull gray walls of Transit Pod SB1. S for Sentient, B for Biological, 1 for command staff. The ship carried various forms of sentient and biological life. Basic shipboard operations were maintained through a low-level artificial intelligence while a more advanced AI called PEI (Planetary Establishment Intelligence) was stowed and awaiting their final destination. Also on board were various plants and animals including 30 mating pairs of biological sentients. Everything needed to start a new life on a new world. Assuming they reach it.

 

Their ship was given the colorful name of ETU-p3, or Etup. “Extrasolar Transportation Unit, third prototype”. One might wonder why a prototype would be travelling so far from home, but theirs was an eager race, ready to make their mark on the galaxy.

 

For the moment, Rel had no interest in galactic accolades. Information. Survival. Peace. These would be enough. As his mind recovered from shock, he stumbled to the nearest console and pulled up the ship’s time log. 4345. Too soon, too soon! The ship was only twenty years into its voyage! What went wro-

 

The sirens grew louder, the lights pulsated with greater urgency.

 

Rel felt something fall heavy against his shoulder. He turned just in time to see his navigator Ptor spewing stasilux from his mouth. The heavy liquid, used to sustain travelers during stasis, fell to the floor in dark splotches. Rather like the droppings of a mounted croux, Rel thought. Funny what the mind remembers in times of peril. Behind Ptor, the ship’s new engineer (what was his name? Rel wondered why he could remember croux s**t but couldn’t remember the man’s name. Sure, he was a last-minute replacement, but that’s no excuse. A captain should know his crew. Rel made a mental note to add name recognition to his training regimen.) (Tar! His name is Tar!) Tar stumbled around.

 

The ship shuddered violently, followed by a crashing, tearing sound and the sudden whoosh of escaping air. “Close the hatch!” Rel screamed, his voice drowned out by the rushing air. The lights flickered as another tremor rocked the ship. They had to figure out what happened. Had to identify the problem. Had to get that croux s**t off the floor. Had to…

 

Space is an expanse of peaceful, beautiful violence. All of the might and majesty of God spread throughout the vast emptiness of a silent void. By a trick of nature we have evolved to find beauty in the most destructive events in the universe. A star explodes and our eyes open wide in amazement. Galaxies collide and our jaws hang limp in awe. A spaceship explodes…

 

In an instant, lives gone. Hopes dashed. The dedicated, sacrificial efforts of an inquisitive race extinguished like a candle in the wind. What a beautiful, terrible, tragic sight. The universe churns on. The debris from the ship Etup continues its journey. Ptor’s stasilux vomit remains frozen to a piece of drifting metal, a portrait waiting to be found by some distant people who will marvel at a race of beings who mount their excrement as artwork. The corpses of the travelers drift among the stars, explorers for ages to come. Among the bits of twisted metal and plastic, a single light pulsates slowly. PEI. The AI’s unit is fully self-contained with a power source that rivals the stars. On and on it goes. On, and on, and on, and on, and… One day it will reach its destination. A distant home. A pale blue dot drifting among the stars.

Author's Note

First time posting here, and first time in a while to write any fiction. What do you think? I've got a longer story in the works and this serves as a kind of a prequel.