Fool's Lament

Fools' Lament

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say.

The blaring alarms played through the wreckage of the Avalon. What remained of it.

Sparks and small fires sputtered amongst the living and dead.

To the man, all were covered in black grease, burns, and blood.

“All of maybe 300 left?” Thought Maker to himself as he picked his way through the maze of steel and flesh littering the cabin floor.

On cue, the robotic female ship’s voice reported, “322 functioning lifeforms confirmed Captain. 2,461 deceased.”

Maker saw the living look up at the com speakers and he glared, barking, “Shut that off!”

The ship’s computer got the hint and announced, “Switching to your intercranial coms Captain.” Maker heard the slight click in his right inner ear implant and growled to himself.

Entering the Mess Hall, he saw more of the same: twisted steel interspersed with twisted dead bodies, blood and fire and dark looks all around. The air was thick with desperation.

Though they had won, the cost was very high. Maker still couldn’t believe it. Three thousand defeating over three hundred thousand of Vosh’s invaders, but the ship was in bad shape. Hotwiring the DX-Axus crystals to fuel their final jump, literally tore the Avalon apart. The old girl was missing the bottom seven deck levels.

To confirm all the bad news, Maker established connection with the ship’s computer by placing his fingers at the divot of his throat where the activation terminal was implanted. “Mechanical Status,” he whispered.

“Life support, critical. Estimated consumption of oxygen is imminent. Shields are down and generators are irreparable. Hull containment is decreasing, status: 14% integrity. Quantum drive core is cracked, radiation is high and increasing. Gravity holding at 86%, backup power generators are critically dam…”

Maker whispered to cut her off, “Just say ‘Bad’ next time,” and removed his fingers from his throat to end the com link. He saw Spot with Tjax and Coleman attempting to lift a steel girder off several trapped beneath.

The IC Com cleared her throat in his ear, “Captain, I am sorry to interrupt but I must report we are in the gravitational pull of a small dwarf star, NX-1799. Without the ships engines active, we will enter its radiation perimeter in 10 minutes 37 seconds.”

Maker froze mid-step. “Distress signal?”

She replied evenly as only AI can, “Sent…” and after a short pause, “I have scanned all sectors within nominal jump radius, no life forms detected.”

It was Maker’s turn to clear his throat, he absently wiped the blood running into his eye and caught the looks of all the men around him searching his face for hope.

He whispered again, “Probability?”

“The radiation perimeter will compromise hull integrity below minimum life support levels. Fatalities will be…”

Maker cut her off, “All of us.”

“I’m sorry Captain. I can keep you apprised with timing and status if you would like.” The robotic voice almost sounded sad.

“That won’t be necessary,” Maker let out a long breath.

The harbinger of bad news cleared his throat, loudly above the din of sound of the wounded ship and her personnel and climbed onto some of the twisted metal in the middle of the Mess Hall. Thankfully, someone finally was able to override the blaring alarm to silence and a hush fell over the crowd of men. “I’ve travelled many of the dark corners of this universe. With some of you…or chased by you.” That garnered a few chuckles above the hissing of cracked pumps and the zaps of fractured conduits. “Our great victory comes at great price. I doubt I need to confirm what you all have not said out loud. We are about to get really cozy with a dwarf star and, well…” Not a man rustled, the hush was thick. “I could not be more honored than to say goodbye at your sides…” Maker’s deeply moving speech was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of a tap sputtering to life and all eyes turned to watch the large frame of Tjax pouring himself a beer.

Spot hissed, “What the hell are you doing?”

TJax wiped his bloody, greasy and foamy mouth after a long and very satisfied pull on the mug. He raised his glass in the air. “If I’m going out, I’m going out wet!”

There was a moment’s hesitation, and suddenly a melee as everyone scrambled to grab mugs, bowls, helmets, anything uncracked enough to hold liquid. Within a couple minutes all were slurping their last few drinks amid the crackles of broken equipment when Spot broke the reverie.

His song started slowly like an old, broken music box cranking uncertainly to life. His voice meek and shaky as he stared into his last mug.

It was a sea shanty back when they sailed the actual seas.

“Drink, drink, drink, to your hearts’ content. Lift that glass in the air.” His voice quavered but quickly others picked up on the melody and joined in. “Drink, drink, drink, only fools lament over troubles they share.”

It took only a few moments, but the entire hall was awash in the music of 322 men. Heroes knowing, they were staring into the void.

“Drink, drink, drink, to oblivion, for its nothing to see. That this glass I am holding here is all of my destiny.”

They sang at the top of their lungs, “Drink, Drink, Drink, never fear the life that is calling to you.”

“DRINK, DRINK, DRINK, let it share the strife, that’s what drinking can do!”

They were splashing beer into the air, laughing, hugging and dancing arm in arm. Voices strong. The song of heroes.

“DRINK, DRINK, DRINK, to your hearts' content. Lift that glass in the air.”

“DRINK, DRINK, DRINK, only fools lament over troubles they share.”

“DRINK, DRINK, DRINK, to oblivion for it’s nothing to see, that this glass I am holding here is all of my destiny.”

Maker lifted his mug high and those that saw responded heartily in kind. They laughed as tears streamed freely and Maker winked at Spot one last time.

A moment later in the absolute hush, the void, the first explosions erupted from within the station and gained momentum across the length of the ship until it was consumed in imploding fire.

No one can hear you scream in space but God Damn, they can hear the singing.