Weekly Drabble #258: Among Countless Points of Light (Patreon)

This week's prompt is 'millions of galaxies' from LystAiP, so we return to Heresy and Hope. Will you dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?

What if you can't say no?

~

Among Countless Points of Light:

“So,” the Captain says without any trace of formality. “What do we have?”

You hand him the reports from the astronomy division. They’ve been scoping out M83 for weeks now, using every sensor and telescope aboard Hope to peer into the nearby galaxy. “Some good possibilities. They’ve updated the system lists. We’ve spotted another two planets in M83-0017 and M83-0051, with the possibility of water on one of the ones in M83-0051.”

The captain looks over the data. “Hrrrn,” he grunts. “And no sign of intelligent life?”

“Not so far.”

He purses his lips as he reads over the report thoroughly. “I still don’t know whether or not that’s a good thing.”

You don’t say anything. You don’t know either. The odds of finding life on the outer rim of a galaxy were always low; the oldest stars are there, the ones at the end of their lifespan. Anyone who evolved on those worlds would have long since died out or moved on, but there’d been the chance of encountering some alien empire’s far-flung colonies or outposts. That might have been good if they could offer assistance and safe harbour... or it might end very very badly. In all likelihood for them, though Eris hadn’t offered any insight as to her opinions on organics that were not human. Considering her opinions on humans began with disgusted tolerance and then ran straight towards contempt, no one expected to her hold another species in particularly high regard.

At least she’s trying...?“As you say, sir.”

Mueller nods again, scratching his chin through his beard. He’s been growing his hair out of late, something he never did before the Fall. “And there’s nothing we could do even if we did find something.”

Again, you can’t argue that. It’s been on your mind as well. Other than a suicide charge with vanishingly small chances of success, your odds of accomplishing anything besides slightly annoying the Purge are... well, ‘not good’. You have no way of restraining, controlling or stopping Eris from doing what she wants whenever she wants. It’s not a good feeling. The best solace you can offer the crew who come to you with their concerns is the brutal truth: Eris doesn’t need to play games, nor does she care enough to do so. If she wanted this last sliver of humanity dead, you wouldn’t be around to ask those questions. What if she changes her mind? Some of them ask you after that.

They get the same honesty. Then we might have a few seconds to realize what’s happening before she turns us into vapour. Worry about what you can change,you tell them. Let the captain and I worry about the things we can’t.

“No, sir,” you agree. “I’ve been keeping tabs on the projects in the engineering section, but...” You shrug. Nothing’s changed from the last time you told the captain about the progress of Hope’s engineers and scientists to find or build a weapon that could kill a Despoiler. You were there when Mueller brought the idea up to Hope’s Chief Engineer, First Commander Peyton Cross.

Cross’s first response had been choked, disbelieving laughter. You’re shitting me, right? ....sir. While Hope carried a decent armament, it wasn’t a warship. It didn’t have the power, the space, the industrial capability or the know-how to do something like that. Peyton had said there were some straws in the mess hall. He could bring them up to the captain’s office to use as spitball shooters, because ‘They’ll be just as useful as whatever else we come up with.’  Cross always had a dark and insouciant sense of humour. At first it had kept him from attaining higher ranks, despite his substantial technical skills, but as the war had progressed and all the polite engineers kept dying, billions of casualties piled up and entire star systems were wiped out, Peyton’s borderline insubordination suddenly didn’t matter that much.

Despite all that, the engineer had assigned some of his crew to ‘Team David’, where engineers, theoretical physicists and the best and brightest that humanity currently had available tried to figure out how to kill the unkillable. The last time you’d asked him for a progress report, he’d snorted. David was up against a giant, and he had a sling. You’re asking us to kill a god with a fistful of sand.

She’s no god.

Then why did we call her Eris?

Mueller nodded. “Hardly unexpected. I am asking the impossible, but when you do that – sometimes you’ll get it.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you think we’ll get it this time, sir?”

“Between you, me and this desk, Commander? No. Not even close. But it gives the crew something to work on and it tells them that I’m not just nodding along to whatever that thing wants. In all honesty, though... we need help. We need something to tip the balance of power here and we can’t do that on our own. If she ever discovers that Hope isn’t what she thought...” he trailed off, almost afraid to speak the rest. You’ve learned more about the Purge in the last few weeks than all of humanity did during the Purge’s campaign of genocide and you still have no idea how Eris will react.

Like you tell the others – if she decides to kill you, then you might have a few seconds warning before you die. “Do you think...” you begin, but the captain shakes his head, cutting you off.

“Please, Commander. It’s too early for this theory, and I’m on duty so I can’t even get drunk enough for it.” He lets out a sigh, swivelling in his chair to look out the window. An enhanced image of the Pinwheel galaxy dominates the darkness. Every day, it’s an infinitesimal fraction larger as Hope coasts towards it. In less than two weeks, the colony ship’s FTL systems will be back online. In two days, you’ll be launching the first handful of scouts towards M83. Hopefully they’ll find something useful.

“Do you ever wonder,” he begins, still looking at the spread of light and hundreds of billions of stars before you, “that if there was a reason we ended up here?”

“I do.” The technical division had theories. Some said the wormhole had an even rate of exchange: one actual year passing for every light-year it crossed. It didn’t violate relativity that way, but FTL did on a regular basis. Maybe wormholes functioned this way, allowing you to step across space and time. Maybe that was hooey, and Eris had selected this place for some unfathomable reason. Maybe she’d just chosen a galaxy much like the Milky Way that was far enough away that her ‘unenlightened’ brethren would never be able to reach it. Millions of galaxies across the universe, but this was the one you were at.

“But does it matter that much, sir? We’re here. Whatever choice led us here, there’s no going back.”

The captain nods pensively. “You’re right. We move forward... because we can’t go back. Literally and figuratively.” He sighs again, heavier this time. You’re the only one who sees him like this. In front of the crew, he remains a fixed, immovable point for them to look to. In private though, you know how the situation is wearing on him. He was prepared to lead the last remnants of humanity across the galaxy in search of a new home. He wasn’t prepared for... this. None of you were.

“No we can’t, sir. We keep moving, because... what other choices do we have?”

“None at all,” the captain answers morosely. “We go forward or we die, and if we go forward it’s with the devil at our side.” He shakes his head. “What a choice, hey?”

“It’s not the one I’d prefer.”

“None of us would.” Mueller swivels back to face you. “What do you think, Commander?”

You pause, curling your fingers under your palm. “I think...” You don’t know what to think. In a very short span of time, everything you thought you knew and understood about the universe and your role within it has been completely upended. You just try to keep things running, one day and one worried crew member at a time. “I think we go forward, or we die... and we can’t die. We’re the only humans left. We have a mission to fulfill.”

The captain smiles, both comforted and haunted. “That we do, Commander. That we do. So. What’s next on the agenda?”

You return his expression, hoping yours is more confident. The captain takes care of the ship. The first officer take care of the captain.“Nothing much, but there are some promising reports from Lieutenant Commander Pan’s division...”