#eos-writes

The lonely Void

In the beginning, there was the Void and nothing but the void. And the void felt lonely. And the void started to imagine what could be. It dreamed of worlds, full of things it never knew, colors rampant and everywhere, loving and sentient beings in all corners living in harmony. Sometimes it dreamed itself an active participant, but mostly it liked to just watch.

Time was not yet a concept so there is no knowing how long the void dreamed up all these wonderful and beautiful things. Eventually, just as a child grows tired of the same game over and over, the void grew tired of harmony. This was when it started playing with different ideas, sometimes itself as the hero freeing a universe from wanton destruction, sometimes being the wanton destruction.

It eventually grew tired of this as well. So it started craving something inside itself, but inside in a way that it's dreams just aren't.

It wanted something real.

So it began trying to create something from nothing. It began by creating an avatar for itself, forming it in the same way it used to form it dreams. It named the avatar chaos, for chaos is where everything stems from, where everything will yearn to return to. Chaos shall be it's voice, it's way to experience what the world will be like. It then set up the basic rules for how everything shall move, afterwards it sprinkled the seeds for all materials and live into itself. Tired it lastly decides to create a force, one that moves everything all at once, without break for eternity. It created the concept of time.

With that it went to sleep, leaving Chaos to control the universe it created for itself.

It awakes. Many millenia have passed. The Universe is whole, many a planet with live on it in many corners of it. It connects back to its avatar.

A flood of memories, sudden, a big wave of everything that happened in this universe, accounts of all live that ever lived, every planet, star everything be it small or large. It took the void another decade to process it all. It liked what it saw, Chaos reigned true to its will, making sure live existed everywhere.

The void was happy, it felt satisfied, filled.

It felt still alone. Chaos was a good avatar but in the end it was but an avatar, reigning over everything, it could not be a companion to the void, it could not convey memories of companionship, as that was never it's purpose.

So it made a new avatar, one for each living thing currently in its universe, all made to fit in seamlessly, all made to experience all there is to their lives. It waited for them to live their lives.

It fell asleep again, only a few decades this time.

Once it woke again some of its avatars where still alive, but most had finished their lives and thus it listened to their memories first. It took its time, enjoying the loving embrace of a mother, the joyful running around, but also tasted the bad parts, the pain. It felt companionship for the first time and once it had fully absorbed all the memories of all it's avatars it felt ever lonelier.

So it tried again, twice the amount of avatars this time. Same result. Again. 8 times the amount of avatars. Yet it only felt even lonelier. It tried many times, increasing the amount of avatars manifold, until eventually all members of every species where it's avatars. Yet it could only feel loneliness after absorbing the memories.

We fell into Sublight speeds, the enemy troops hailing us with hundreds of thousands of voices. Our Weapons don’t stand a chance, no way to even activate them before an emp hits our shields. We are lucky, it doesn’t kill our most important systems, but it does kill our weapons and shields. They know we are now sitting ducks. We can’t speed up away from them, the forcefields keeping us in shooting distance.  

I look at captain Dartel. He is the first human Captain I’d seen and served under. Slightly biting at his thumb while all the transmissions are coming in at my station, me being the communications officer. The Cretiruna from the Battle stations are silently looking toward the captain too, knowing them they are already running all sorts of tactical scenarios in their head in which we are getting boarded. I connect to the telepathic network of the others of my species on board. We are almost sure that the highest possibility we still have for a successful mission is to send the message from here. 72% Chance of failing if we send now, 95% if we don’t send anything right now. 

“Captain.” I try to get Captain Dartels attention, ”Captain Dartel, if we send our message right now, we have the approximately highest chance that it gets through, shall I prepare the message?” I already start pulling out the message from the telepathic part of my mind. “No, don’t send it.” The strength and sincerity in the captains voice startles me. 

“Not?” I carefully ask, sending a telepathic question on how to notice if a human has gone haywire. His gaze, strong as I’ve never seen before, locked into one of mine. “No do not send it, I think I may have a plan.” With that said he turned around into his own little comms console. He activated the direct connection with engineering, asking loud enough for the entire bridge to hear, “Engineering? How much sublight power can you get me?” 

Engineering is also headed by a human. He isn’t quite as wise as our captain yet, so his voce is somewhat shaky as he answers, “Well I can get you up to light captain, if I guess correctly what you plan, but please don’t.” I don’t understand what he’s hinting at, and looking around I can clearly tell no one else knows what the humans are talking about. Captain Dartels slowly closes his eyes for but a second. “Don’t try to talk me out of it. Now begin charging the engines, I want a firework.” He turns to me “Ship wide, please.” I nod, opening the official telepathic paths as well as the technological paths for ship wide transmission of what the captain has to say now. 

“This is my last action as your captain, this is an order to abandon ship and to not give up any information to the enemy, even if there is a chance to finish the mission. Board the escape pods, force fields are going to let them through. All controls are now relayed to my station.” With that he quickly taps on his consoles, apparently entering coordinates leading to the approximate middle of the enemy forces, “I know many of you may not understand my plan, but trust in me one last time. I’ll see you all on the other side.” As he says these last words he has a weird glint in his eyes. I can’t discern whether it is just the lighting that shimmers weird in his eyes or what. 

I close the transmissions again, before asking “But the weapons are down, the ship is unarmed there is nothing you could do anymore!” He has a seemingly sad emotion in his gaze as he turns towards me, “Yes that is also what they will believe, but I recently read some old stories from the cradle of humanity. This scenario reminded me that no spaceship is ever unarmed and that a captain goes down with his ship. Now I believe I have given the order to abandon ship.” 

I have problems keeping up with the others from the bridge, my mind in telepathic connection with the other octoids, sharing what I just heard. Some Cretiruna see me struggling and help me. I thank them as they help me to the octoid escape pod. Unlike the other races we just need one, so as I cram myself inside, I notice I’m the last and hit the launch confirm button. It is nice and comforting to the others minds this close, but I am worried as to the actions of captain Dartel. Why did he order us to not send the message? Why is he ordering to abandon ship? These questions and more race through us as we start flying. 

We decide to watch the ship. We see it starting to speed up, flying straight into the middle of the enemy ships, accelerating until it hits light speed. Then the light flash hits us before we can comprehend the clash of space grade metals against another. We were just about to cross the force field holding the ship in, but it disappeared signaling that most of the enemy ships must have at least lost power. The energy released by our ship crashing into the enemy at light speed was enough to immediately obliterate it, the mid-size battle cruiser of Tanik class it crashed into as well as a good hundred other ships that were to close by. The rest of the enemy forces doesn’t look much better, with many, many destroyed or seriously damaged and out of power. 

Not long after we were caught by rescue ships and were able to deliver our message. The mission that we all thought was lost turned into a success. After destruction counts came in, we noticed that our captains move took care of a good 83% of the enemy forces and he was postmortem ranked up to admiral. The enemy, now seriously low on forces decided to enter peace talks. After asking around a bit our little octoid group got to know that the move admiral Dartel did was known as “Kamikaze-flight”. We weren’t assigned to another human captain since. I am unsure whether that is a good thing or not. 

Onie Stone

(this plays in the universe of my WIP, but to a late point in it, let's call it foreshadowing)

The small ship

The endless void surrounds the ship. Aboard the ship many people run around, some for getting from work to their cabin fast, some to get to work fast and some just to stay in shape. Others are just sleeping. So is the captain.

That is until an alarm begins to sound. It's time for him to wake up and take over the bridge. The night wasn't long but he'd rather take over from his young first mate, after all they are just getting their first experience in ordering a ship around.

So he gets up, cleans himself, gets clothed and walks to the bridge. He doesn't run, because an old rule says, if the captain runs, the ship's sinking, well no sinking in Space, at least.

On the bridge the crew is standing ready to update him on all things happening while he slept. Everything is normal.

Then a faint sign of life stirs in the sensors keeping the deep space in front on watch. Something is happening and everyone around him watches out, trying to figure out the sensor readings. Slowly a sense of hectic runs over them all as they realise something bad and horrible is coming. Something unknown, sending out some form of signal that shows no well intention.

Emergency alarms start blaring, the rest of the ship falls into hectic, the engineers start to bring up the machines, they can feel something coming, the captain now starts shouting out orders, the first mate baffled next to him staring out the window.

For a second something horrible is visible, then the ship turns around. It picks up speed. The engineers optimizing and working hard, pushing the vessel past it's normal limits. The engines, usually silent like an owl even at high speeds are roaring like wild bears. Everyone is working in utter fear. Those not able to help, pray. Pray to whatever being they believe in. Pray for a tomorrow.

But time has planned differently. Suddenly it seems like everything stops. Then the ship slowly starts falling out of speed, only momentum carrying onward. The captain mid yell stops his mouth, takes a deep breath. Sighs and starts going towards the engine section. At first he walks. Then he starts jogging and in the end he can't do anything but run. Run in panic and fear and hope to reach in time, to be able to do something.

Distant Stars

The ship had started flying two generations ago. Earth had become hard to live on, the rich had been the first dead, atleast the ones the public was angry about. Only a few weeks after the first signs of the coming doom were seen, the left over humans started building the ship, taking whatever resources were left in hopes of saving enough humans to keep the race alive. In the end 200 humans of different ethnicities and genders were chosen by chance to be frozen until arrival. Everyone else would be needed for keeping the machines running and waking up the frozen ones.

Slowly while the population of Earth started dwindling down our ancestors got ready to leave. In the end a mere ten thousand could be saved, the rest of ten billion died before the rocket was done. Our grandparents, our parents and now us have been keeping the ship on course and running. It will take a few more generations, but we will reach our goal. We all strongly believe that.

In a few days we will reach the turning point. The place in Space where we have to shut the engine of, turn the ship around until it's pointing into the perfectly opposite direction and turn the engine back on. We are all amazed how far the ship has come already. We are aiming for the distant stars, so far we are on course to them. We are sad. We never got to see a sky. Or land. Or sea. All we ever knew is space and this ship. All we will ever know is space and this ship. But we do not fret, for we are so far, but not yet there. We work so our childrens, children children will know what we never. So they can see a sky, a land, a sea.

Preparations for the turning are complete, I as the current pilot, will have full control. There's only empty space before us, that is good as any specks of dust could seriously harm the ship.

I get ready. Thrusters off, and start spinning the ship. The longest hour of my live. Without thrusters we experience no gravity. Everyone floats. Now I'm stopping the spin and slowly start the thrust up again. Softly so nothing falls and breaks.

Early Spring

Everyday is getting a little brighter, a little lighter. Why? Well Winter is ending, Spring is beginning, but not fully there yet. I'm sitting here in golden sunshine, reading and waiting. I don't know what or who I'm waiting for, but I like to imagine I'll know when it or they arrive.

The small Càfe I'm sitting in is on the edge of town, just overlooking some slowly greening trees, a golden glowing sandy beach and the endlessness of an ocean. The owner did their best to give this place a cozy, homy feeling and there's always some author or young couple here. Now that outside is growing warmer, older couples are also starting to show up more again.

This cozy idyll is suddenly disturbed when yelling between a couple arises. I only got the gist of it, but forgot it again quickly. More and more people start yelling, both of them also calling more people to aid their cause, drama explodes like a bomb. I try covering my ears, but I also don't want to let my hot cocoa cool off.

Suddenly, I just put my cup down, I can feel hands dampening the sound from the drama. They are soft, but strong, but I don't try to shake them off as it allows me to finish my cup, without risking my ears with the yelling too long. The hands pull away as I start getting up, can't that couple yell outdoors? I make my way to the exit, pay the unfortunate girl behind the register and walk outdoors.

Silence, then birds chirping happily as always. Then I see the handsome looking man, openly, friendly smiling my direction.

Confusion

Some time ago a guy walked in to this bar I worked at. He was a real looker, a real ladies man. But he didn't share a singular look with any of the women that tried to get his attention. Still he came every night, ignored all the women, drank a couple of beers, paid with a handsome tip and left again.

A few days after he first appeared here, I noticed the stares. He wasn't just looking around the room. His eyes sometimes stayed a while on a mirror through which he could see someone, that I couldn't see. I didn't think much of it, just that maybe a woman has finally caught his gaze.

Then he began talking to me. Talking about his sorrows and worries. Talking about the small happiness's happening to him. I stayed professional. The perfect, listening emotional dump. Shortly after he told me he's fallen in love, but it hadn't been reciprocated so far.

I think that was the first time I actually looked at him, not as the guy behind the bar, deciding if I give out more drinks, but as a person. He had a slim build, a face one could only see as good looking and the fluffiest hair I've ever seen.

For the first time I spoke to him as a person. I asked if I knew the person. He looked up, seeming surprised I actually talked, finished his beer and payed. Whilst leaving, he turned around one more time to grin towards me. He didn't return for a week. Then two weeks. I've given up on trying to find out who he meant.

When he did show again it was with another guy by his side. Both of them got a fancy cocktail and sat down at the bar. After finishing about half of their drinks, the other guy got up, told him to "get it done" and went towards the restroom.

Dw the other guy is away I can't hold myself back anymore. I want to know what had been plaguing my mind so long now. I asked him "Is he your special person?" He grins. His grin is growing larger until he breaks into a loud laugh.

Deserted

I wander this beach, golden sand under my feet, blue, blue sky above, a ship on the horizon. There's coconut trees around. On my body a a slightly torn but clean, colorful shirt and some short pants, a ring in my pocket.

I've grown accustomed to the island, don't want to leave into an unknown future in a society that doesn't understand me, doesn't value me for what I'm worth. Some would say, that I'm lost, but I finally found myself, found my place, even though it's far from him. Even though he won't be able to find me here. I just hope that we will find another again someday.

The beginning was tough, between surviving and crying from missing him I barely had time for myself. The ring was for him, a token of my love, a token of gratitude and respect. It has become something holy to me, a promise I couldn't hold, one of many sure, but non before had its importance.

I have built myself a new home, devoid of most electronics, but filled with many a mechanical contraption. The almost only thing I still have is an enlighted picture frame of him.

A few days later

A ship is closing in. Its a small island hopper. A tall person standing on the nose of it. I'm hiding in the forest, at a beautiful lake with a waterfall leading in. A voice behind me says "It's a beautiful place you found here." I remember the voice, but this would be too fairytale. "Is it really you?", I ask with husky voice, unused for too long. I do not dare turn around.