It is an inexplicable and ever-present need for mankind to expand and explore - not as a whole, but in a handful of souls brave and hearty enough to forge out a new life. As time goes on, the medium changes; land, sea, air, and finally, space.

At first, the great beyond was reserved for governments or those in a position to buy entrance. As time moved on and ships became faster, cheaper and more reliable, space flight became somewhat, if not commonplace, less remarkable. Now many worldly beings dreamed of severing their roots and taking flight to the distant stars.Technological advances served only to make this dream more obtainable.

The Providence was a beautiful craft, not at all unworthy of its distinction as the fleet’s flagship. She spanned a glorious mile long,and was equally wide. It was therefore somewhat of a shock when a small computer glitch, buried deep inside her most primordial logic areas, toppled the behemoth. Like a virus, it slowly infected the very core of Providence’s being until nothing was left but a sickly shell, a fragment of man’s arguably most perfect creation.

The drain on power caused by the very dignitaries she was built to transport was the culprit of the holocaust about to unfold on the Providence. Filled past maximum capacity, the ship’s power supply was too taxed to maintain all its systems. In a desperate attempt to save her most vital function, her sentience, Providence cut off power to her stabilizers. It was mere minutes before she was side-swiped by an asteroid.

There was a bright flash of light, and for but a moment an eerie calm,and everything seemed motionless. The entire ship shuddered. Plates and cutlery went flying in all directions. Passengers were running wildly, frantically, desperately trying to make their way to the few life pods, as fire broke out and warning klaxons sounded. These quickly started to fill up, as the very superstructure of the vessel creaked and screamed.

Along the back wall of the galley was a small life craft, meant for the use of the kitchen staff. Its existence was not mentioned to the passengers, for it was an emergency pod for crew. During this time of stress, no one thought to remember it. But in the midst of all this turmoil, two sat serenely inside it, watching the kitchen become engulfed in flames. He knew of it because he was help to the chef. She knew of it because she demanded to know the going-ons of everything around, and took it upon herself to discover it.

The Providence, once glisteningly alive, vibrant, was a monument of inactivity, a desolate wasteland. The cold steel of her hull greeted the empty vacuum of space with a skeletal grimace.

He waited as long as he felt he could before pulling the release level. The airlock groaned under the stress, but eventually slid shut. It was just the two of them. The pod shuddered, slowly breaking free of its moorings. The small craft floated away from its mother emotionlessly.

He was simple, she was an heiress. He knew how to scale a fish and the difference between right and wrong. She knew 300 types of wine, and to say “please” and “thank you.” Yet he did not know how to treat a lady of rank, and she did not know how to deal with a commoner.

He grappled for something to say, something to connect - “Think we’ll make it?” was all that came out. His question, somewhat rhetorical, was met with stony silence. Hours went by, and the two did not exchange a word. Each kept to their own side of the fragile craft, blankly staring at the floor.

Silence was broken only when he offered her rations, but she took them without uttering a word or showing thanks.

She was blessed with pristine beauty and impeccable charm. He was gifted with a gentle heart and a belief that mankind was inherently good. Neither shared these qualities with the other.

Two days into the free-fall the warning klaxon went off. And one tank of oxygen was gone. And for the first time she smiled at him. And he smiled back.

Hours went by, each clinging on to that one moment, each hoping the other would initiate contact. But each were too proud, too afraid. And so each continued on alone, two souls so close to the brink of insanity, desperately holding on.

The next day was a mixture of bliss and hell. Equilibrium set in, and dull boredom. Conversation was inevitable, and slowly it started. The process of becoming friendly was an arduous one, but with little else to occupy, it was accomplished.

On the fourth day they passed a giant star. “If the solar cells still work, we should have power anew.” He knew, for he had learned so in the academy. She knew nothing of this, but believed, for she was beginning to trust him.

The panels folded out, capturing the precious rays of light. Something went wrong; something sparked, and the panels collapsed, inert and lifeless. Their faces fell, and silence and slow gloom returned.

He asked about her home, she about his loves. And they talked and talked, but they still were on their separate sides. She shared with him her secret fault - she was far too proud to love, or be loved in return. He confided in her that he had loved, but it was silly and childish, not worthy of remembrance.

Five days into their free-fall they passed a group of radio beacons, busily sending signals across the great expanse. He smiled, “surely one of those relays word of us.” Spirits were lifted, and he smiled at her. She glanced down at herself then blushed, as if embarrassed by the way she looked.

“We’re going to die in a life pod.” This simple irony amused her greatly. Feigned, forced laughs circled before the truth set it. “Oh my God,” she said, terror grasping her throat, “we’re going to die.” As of yet it was a tacit understanding that rescue was inevitable, but now the realization came that this was a grave, a floating monument to man’s hubris. As if sentiments were heard, the one light source finally succumbed, and faded to black.

They drifted for quite some time in utter darkness. He found the portal by touch, but could see nothing through it. No stars, no light. Bitter blackness. “We must be enveloped in a solar cloud,” he reasoned. It was odd drifting through a space that lacked stars. It was terrifying to think how insignificant this craft was to the universe. He doubted it knew of them, or worse, even cared. This steel dome was their only hope, but it was of no more importance than space debris.

She thought of the men who riveted the pod together. All her knowledge,all her, all her wealth, she would trade it all just to be one of those men, to be safely in mother Earth’s embrace. Death didn’t care about status, or rank, or who loved you. All were equal in his eyes, one as worthless as the next.

The air was thinning, and conversation was becoming difficult, and thinking impossible. They sat in silence, bathing in each other’s beauty and life. And so each completed the other, and in their own way, they were one.

She broke the deathly silence. “I want to feel you,” she said, in a choked gasp, in barely even a whisper. “I want to know what you feel like.” Driven by some mad, unearthly desire, he weakly crawled toward her through the bitter darkness, hands stretched out. The gap lessened until his hand found hers, and they touched.

She collapsed into his arms, and he gently held her cheek to his. But it was too late, for the life had already drained out of her. He slowly sank to the ground, his whole body quivering. He glanced upwards, trying to appeal, not realizing he was too far above heaven to be heard.

He sat, in stony silence, aware that death’s icy hand would shortly be meeting his. Yet he was not afraid. He awaited it with macabre delight and would embrace it when it came. Any place, any escape, would improve on this floating coffin. He contemplated the brevity of his life, befelt no regrets, for just a moment, a subtle instant, he was truly alive.

Quietly, ever so quietly, his eyes slid shut. And they remained so.Slowly he succumbed to eternal sleep. He too passed away, his purpose prematurely ended. A brief blip on a screen. But who’s to say it was without meaning?

Official reports read that there were no survivors to witness the meltdown of a 500-ton nuclear reactor. Not that any survivors would be witnesses; the light and searing hear emitted from such an explosion would mean instant death. There was one discrepancy, which was quietly compartmentalized and omitted - an escape pod did deploy. But in the vastness of space, who would miss a few lives?

Brain Candy E-Zine has no rights to this story.  The rights belong to the author.

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