Escape From Twilight

The vast dark outside held no gods nor purpose for Syrti, and hadn't for as long as she'd flown through space. The viewscreen over her hard plastic bed showed a black field, pinpricked by the echoes of long dead stars. In the sunless morning, that emptiness sat with her. The sharp points of the triangular Church pendant poked through the chain, jabbing into the flesh of her fingers. The metal necklace reflected the faint blue light of her electronic mobile loosely held in her hand, which gave the only light in the chill quarters. She'd piloted ships for almost a decade, yet whenever she got a route to Mars, the same nightmare wrecked her sleep. The empty viewscreen offered no solace.

The taste of copper and the smell of burnt metal overwhelmed her senses. A distant memory of the dull thuds that shook her arm as she slammed the metal fire extinguisher into the uncaring door, sealed shut by safety protocols she wasn't authorized to override. She would've done anything to get that door open. But it wouldn't help. Nothing could. Her passenger was already dead. Some drunk cargo pilot had dropped his ship out of warped space next to hers, ablating the outer hull and exposing it to the dark.

Phobos taught her a single pilot could kill a lot of people with a soliton drive. There was no greater power, no force out there in the universe that cared enough to stop it. It could've been her that died. Should've been, really. But it wasn't. And life went on.

She glanced down at the glowing screen of her mobile, a thin glass shard attached to a wristband that contained her whole digital life. On it was a carefully crafted resignation letter. It explained how she was never cut out for this piloting thing, and she didn't want to accidentally kill anyone. Better for everyone if she just quit now, before she screwed up so hard it brought EcoSol down on her head. Her captain would probably get in trouble too, if she did. He'd understand the letter, she was sure. She even signed it with her legal name, Esther DePaul. She sucked in a breath to choke down the tears that threatened to explode out of her. If she didn't stop them, they'd ruin her whole day.

Her alarm notification went off on the mobile still in her hand, covering the letter. The clock that lit up on the thin screen told her takeoff was in thirty minutes. When she got to Mars, she'd have a long chat with the captain. Maybe it really was time for a career change. Probably not, though. This was all she was good at.

She stared at the pendant in her other hand. It was cold. Colder than the room around her. It glittered as the light in the room came on. Three silver hands, each gripping the next wrist. The symbol of the Church of Unity. She'd attended the Church a few times with her mom before her funeral, but not since.

For Unity, everything was part of the "will" of the "universe." Everything happened for a reason. It was for the best. They had a lot of followers praying to the universe, but Syrti didn't count herself among them. If there was a will in the dark, she hadn't found it.