Elpis Bound
Blink.
Soft blue light danced on airbrushed metal inches from his face.
Mist spread over the glass as the cryochamber slowly reheated.
“Welcome back,” a silvery voice tinkled gently. “You’ve been asleep for two weeks.”
As the pod’s curved ceiling came into focus, he remembered. “Two? But Elpis is–”
“Four weeks away. Yes.” A pause. “Jason, something unexpected occurred this morning.”
It came from a remote pocket of deep space millions of light-years away, where two ancient neutron stars collided and sealed his fate. It was a gravitational wave, hidden within the mathematical models and path computations, unseen by even the planetary supercomputer that plotted the starline flights.
From there it rippled outward through a vast ocean of time and space to reach Jason’s transport pod, nudging him off-course by a hundredths of a degree. A mere hundredth—but, by arrival, it will have been the difference between orbiting Elpis and missing it by a lightyear. Such was the delicate precision of starlines.
“Can’t we correct our trajectory?” His voice was trembling.
“This first-generation pod does not possess propulsion.”
“Right.” He laughed mirthlessly. “Of course.” Unable to afford the modern starlines, he sent Thalia and her mother first and stayed behind until he saved enough to take the cheapest first-generation starline to join them. He imagined them standing together under Elpis’ twin stars, counting down the days to his arrival.
“I’m sorry, Jason.” ALYS murmured. “I’ve run thousands of simulations, there is close to zero probability of rescue. Our communications will not reach them in time.”
“You… can’t do anything? Why did you even wake me up, then, ALYS?” He spat the words out bitterly.
ALYS paused again.
“As far as I have data and the ability to predict, after today, we will continue on our new trajectory indefinitely. But, in three months, the power will run out which will bring you out of cryostasis. I won’t be there then, I will have already shut down. I decided the best course of action was to wake you now, that… at the least you would not be alone.”
He nodded slowly. Then, he crawled over to gaze past the circular viewport; beyond it, a beautiful, endless field of stars taunted him. For what reason had they condemned him to die?
He began to weep, muffled at first, then full-chested, shuddering wailing.
The guttural cries bounced back and forth in the cramped vessel, but did not escape it. Beyond the inch of carbon-glass, desolation lay silent.
And all around him, the stars wheeled on, indifferent and eternal, as the solitary vessel continued hurtling into the night.