𝙿𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 (𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚝)

A piece of a project I’m slowly working on

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[Present]The blast hit before I could ever react. Engines gasped for help, grating under the stress of the ship’s chaotic spin. My heart raced. I watched through the small observation pane of the spaceship, seeing the sun blink as the ship tumbled around and around. I had seconds to get things under control. We were tipped violently from the sudden sun blast, the ship’s structure shuddered as if it too was aware of losing its balance. I held desperately onto what was left of the smashed control panel, hopelessly drifting 4 metres above the observation pane. Its fractures splintered across the glass pane in a web. The heat from the flare scorched the glass an ebony color and waves of unbearable warmth flooded the room. 

Gravity controls were offline. No more commands were being shouted over the rhythmic thud in my ears. I looked around to see where my fellow aviator was, no longer in his seat. Regrettably so, I found him adrift a few feet behind me near the glass with everything else on the ship that had suddenly suspended around him. His skull was broken. Droplets of blood slowly drifted around and moved with the momentum of the last few beats of his circulatory system. His gaze was fixed and permanently turned upward. I was floating weightlessly. The control panel's sharp edges pressed into my grasp. I was beginning to come to terms with my mortality.  

x

[rewind] It had been an ordinary day. We were preparing to land on Earth soon, just outside the Earth's exosphere. I spent most of the day in the infirmary sector since the panel doesn’t permanently require two captains when travel ends. Chatter about the return home filled the atmosphere with a tinge of excitement. Most of the patients were rescued from a research vessel called Iskaryn. The Iskaryn started malfunctioning when it strayed too close to the sun, collecting data. An abnormal flare had fried their system, resulting in CO2 slowly being released into their air supply and radiation exposure. So, we redirected from our route to stop and evacuate them. While many succumbed to the radiation exposure, some would recover, though not without a few burns and nausea. The rest of my crew was far from eager to help the foreign evacuees. Tensions were high as murmurs of distrust were heard. 

“Spies.” I heard someone mutter in our own code. They weren’t particularly thrilled to be involved in another nation's problem. 

The Peregrine itself was originally a large medical vessel that was later repurposed to transport asteroid metals, so we could unquestionably accommodate them. Among them was an Engineer, not much older than me. He walked with an old limp and had been very keen on trying to help us find anything wrong within our system. Perhaps he believes that if he can help fix something, it would lessen the tragedy of Iskaryn. He carried himself like he’d seen far too many catastrophes in his life already, and like the rest, he had an accent that was hard to understand despite being fluent in English. A golden gear insignia was pinned to the right side of his jacket, marking his affiliation. Despite being based in two different countries, his uniform was similar to mine -formal, besides the oil stains at the cuffs. “Are you certain?” he’d ask, edged with worry, “Nothing alarming after the last power surge?”

“No system glitches were found in the last diagnostic,” I assured,  “The Peregrine is rated for deep space, she can handle the radiation.” An infirmary technician now serving as a nurse eyed me as he walked by for speaking to the stranger. I returned it. The loud hum of the engines was a constant presence, like a pulse beneath our feet. But only I seemed to notice the flutter of interference from the sun's exposure.

 “Maybe, but I’ve seen too many things built to last that have not.” His gaze flickered around the bay with unspoken thoughts, doubt threading through it. “Not an easy thing, keeping people alive,” he said after a while. This new comment deeply contradicted his tough exterior.

“Something wrong?” I asked, curious at the face he made as if his mind was caught on something. He wasn’t thinking about these crew members, standing alive in front of him.

“I was the only one left on-” The system interrupted him with a series of deafening alarms. A feeling of weightlessness and panic enveloped everyone.  

x

[Back to present]With one hand free and the other gripped around the shattered control panel, I helplessly tried to work it. The panel flickered weakly, projecting an uneven glow to the ceiling, casting long shadowed patterns over the walls as if the ship had the dying light of a yellow-green firefly. I’d never flown this particular ship by myself. I tried resetting the board, but to no avail, the thing was busted. Suddenly, the panel came back and the engines outside hummed more evenly. Glass fragments from the Panel dug into my skin as the gravity came back defiantly, crashing me and everything previously suspended onto the floor. I released my grip with a yelp as the shards stung through my skin. "Online," the damaged system finally announced. Delayed much!? I thought angrily, picking myself up. The ship’s engines vibrated through the metal frame, an unsteady pulse fighting to balance. We were still losing altitude, but I couldn't help without the rest of the panel that the aviator was buried beneath. I could steer and cut the engines, but that was it. A red monitor blinks indignantly, but if it's right and not just broken, oxygen is leaking somewhere. One unfortunate spark and we were flames. I tried calling back to base but the sudden surge must have knocked that out too. There was nothing. Not even a static noise. As if confirming my worst fears, there was another explosion.

𝚡

Outside the observation panel, I saw Falcon-7, our traveling partner, hurdling toward Earth in a downward spin, all their engines dead and trailing smoke as the Panel room went up in flames. I cursed under my breath. Was I the only surviving personnel? What about the patients?! I rushed through the passages, more shards of glass crunching under my weight and stumbling over broken debris. The metallic scent of singed metal persisted. Panic started to take hold in my chest again as I passed by unconscious crew members, one by one, who never had the time nor warning to grab the nearest objects before they were helplessly thrown against the walls.  They never even made it back to the Panel room.

𝚡

I tried to ignore the doubts creeping in that they’d all be dead too, but a part of me still prayed someone had been belted in or at least grabbed on to something before we’d spiraled. Initially, I felt sick when I came in. It felt like something had torn through my chest when I saw them lifeless. Everyone had been hurled to one side like a ragdoll, all blankly staring at me for my mistake, and lying in strange positions as I entered. Those who had belted in had their necks broken. I’d failed them all. Someone said my name though, then again.

“Elayn?” My attention finally snapped away from the horrific scene, and an Engineer holding an injured arm limped toward me. Relief flooded through me, someone was still alive. 

𝚡

We ran with difficulty to the escape pods only to be met with a horde of angry flames spewing smoke with a hiss. I launched the burning section off, my hand pressed against the control, with a half-recognized bloody handprint left behind. We were left with the pods in the Evac Lock that had been kicked clear off their launch pad. There was one though. One still in reasonable condition despite the dents and silver gouges scraped like claws over the Peregrine emblem. I nodded toward the hatch, speaking without words. The smoke lingered in the air.

“I don’t -why me?” he asked, almost instinctually.

“The ship is gone, but you’re not,” I said, “Please.” 

Before I even realized what was happening, his arms were around me. A hug, not a salute. A silent goodbye. I helped the passenger inside and saw his face change when I closed the hatch.

 “Wait, I'll stay,” he said, “I’ll stay with you.” I shook my head, tears stinging. “You will die!” he pleaded with me, his accent becoming more pronounced with emotion. There wasn’t enough room for two people. And besides, I thought bitterly, the Captain always goes with the ship. One of the engines let out an abrupt screech from overworking. 

“We don’t have time for this,” I said distantly. He nodded, faintly. I suddenly understood the attempt to stay; he would bear the weight of my death if he didn’t. The guilt of surviving at another's cost would follow him forever. I whispered a silent apology as I authorized the Lock to release. The pod drifted away, its passenger safely enclosed within its metal shell while the Peregrine’s fire burning behind it casted orange reflections. 

I stood behind the protective barrier watching it go. Frozen, not knowing what to do. My breath fogged the glass, battling the cold seeping into the now open Lock. Only now did reality settle over me of how much I didn’t want to die. I sank to my knees in anguish. Blood trickled down my hand, both warm and sticky, but I barely noticed it. I didn’t want to go back to the panels that were painted in crimson red. I didn’t want to walk past my dead crewmates again for a procession meant for me. They could still be alive if we never detoured to follow Iskaryn's plea for help. The Lock was silent now. No voices. The alarms had stopped. Just the weight of the loss was left. Down below, the earth was so close yet impossibly far, a fragile deep blue sphere marbled with luminous white clouds. The Peregrine was gone, but I let myself believe I was still heading home. 

𝚡

In the silence, I noticed something pinned to my uniform. I unfastened its gold clasp and looked at it. In my hand, was a small golden insignia of a gear staining red from my glass cuts. He must have given it to me in the hug, I thought. But as I looked closer, I saw an Audic embedded into the cool metal. I lifted it to my ear.

“On my last ship,” said a voice, its consonants softened at the edges. “Not the Iskaryn.”

“What?” I whispered before I realized he couldn't hear me. Audics were ingenious as they are illegal. One person wore it, transferring every word while the listener stayed untraceable. A mechanism meant for espionage.

“I was the only one left.“ He went on “I tried to slow the last survivor’s bleeding. But shrapnel was lodged too deep, and cut an artery. I couldn’t do anything for him,” He swallowed. “I thought I would die alone.”

 So shrapnel was why he limped.  

“You're not alone, Captain. I promise.” Silence. A breath. 

“I don’t know if you can still hear me,” he exhaled,  “But I'll watch ‘till the end.” The words that had felt like a lifeline echoed in my mind as the floor slipped beneath me. 

𝚡

The Peregrine's engines erupted into amber flames with a final explosive burst, following the trail of leaked oxygen as though the ship were trapped in a fiery web. A secondary solar flare to his eyes.