Contemplations
15 May 2021Spark Chaser
-Personal Log-14 May 3307
The region of space in and around the Coalsack nebula is really beautiful. It feels as if you've stepped out of normal space, like you really are alone in the galaxy. It's a great place to just sit and think. On the surface, in deep space, in orbit of a random rocky-ice planet. Doesn't really matter where you sit but if the system is inside the nebula the effect is stronger. Whatever direction you care to look, inky darkness obscuring the light from nearby stars. It's easy to see why this place was written about in so many science-fiction stories of ancient Earth and why it is such a popular tourist destination now. It really defies intuition. My computer tells me the absorption of light in the nebula is the result of sub-micrometre dust particles coated with carbon monoxide and nitrogen ices which blocks visible wavelengths of light. On it's face, that is quite remarkable -- that ice-coated particles of dust smaller than a micrometre in size can block light. Out here, I really had time to soul-search. I did, until the Thargoids attacked.
I think most commanders got the blast about a mass attack from Thargoids and that plea for all able-bodied ship commanders to render aid. Things seemed peaceful enough in my quiet corner of the galaxy, and I didn't want to get too involved in the fighting that has taken billions of lives since humans first learned to hate. That said, I couldn't walk away from humanitarian aid. Fort Xeno was my destination in HIP 62154. In the galactic scale, it was a stone's throw from that peaceful planetoid in the darkness that I was calling home, at least for the past day or so. What I saw there... well, it really affected me.
The station was all but destroyed. A smoldering, burning hulk of metal scarred with corrosive substances from the battle. Bare, life-less. Gone was, what I assumed was, the normal hustle and bustle of cruise liners, traders and explorers popping in for a quick splash of fuel and a bite to eat before heading off again. In it's wake was this shadow of greatness with me and a few other like-minded commanders helping to render something resembling aid. I headed in, despite the warnings from flight control of unstable atmosphere and debris in the docking bay. The heat gauge soared like I was snuggled against an O-Type star. Cargo pods exploded and huge hunks of debris blocked the most direct route to the farther pads. I landed and they took me to the hanger promptly before my ship could melt. Inside was just as surreal. Every part of that concourse was re-dedicated to disaster response. Market hubs held refugees, pubs were transformed into triage centers. I gathered as many as I could, despite my ship not really being outfitted to carry people. Anywhere I could semi-legally stuff a person I did, for the short trip to the nearby megaship tasked with rescue and evacuation.
Back and forth. Rinse and repeat. I probably saved a few hundred lives and dumped a dozen or so heatsinks in and around the docking bay. It was all I could do to stay sane and stay strong for the sake of the survivors, so that my strength might give them some peace-of-mind. These poor people who had their lives and homes torn away from them. As I ran frantically between hanger and concourse to gather refugees I dodged falling debris and explosions, as much as one can actually dodge those things. An explosion knocked me on my back and a searing heat overwhelmed my body. Some of the same people who were hoping to be rescued dragged me away and patched my face up from a deep laceration. I found a medic to dose me so full of pain-killers I could cut off an arm with a rusty butter knife and smile. Anything to just keep going with another load of survivors to the rescue ship.
A few hundred people, and a few hours later I had enough. I left the rescue ship and went back to my temporary home on that rocky planetoid where I could be alone. I don't even think the thrusters were fully shutdown before I started to cry. It felt like years of repressed emotions all flooding to the surface, streaming down my once-pretty face. I alternated between crying and being sick for what felt like hours. Struggling to grasp what I had just been through, and finding some perspective to remind myself that all I had seen and done paled in comparison to those people I rescued. I will likely bear my own scars from this, physical and mental, along with everyone else who was there. I never really believed my parents when they said that space was much too dangerous a place for me and thought they only wanted to stifle my dreams. Now I believe them and realize they were trying to protect me.
A wretched soul, bruised with adversity,
We bid be quiet when we hear it cry;
But were we burdened with like weight of pain,
As much or more we should ourselves complain. --- William Shakespeare