The Comforting Green Glow

The little green pulsating light was comforting, in its own way. Reminding me that I had to stay awake and watch the screen. But in the vast dark expanse of space, as far as the eye could see, were stars, maybe a swirling nebula or glowing sun.

The little green light told me that all ship functions were normal, as to be expected. My crew were fast asleep in cryochamber pods for the long journey to a new home, far away from the Milky Way Galaxy. Earth had been destroyed centuries ago, and none of the other planets could hold humanity as we so desperately desired.

So, one by one, starships were sent out into space to see if something more suitable could be found.

Now? It was just my ship ‘Andromeda’, along with two others. The other ships had gotten lost or simply ceased to function, drifting off into the cold blackness of space. I suppose those crews weren’t cut out to be explorers, even if they had dreamed of doing so, back when science fiction was still that, and leaving Earth’s orbit was far off, unreachable, unattainable.

Other little lights blinked at me from their place on the console, a rainbow assortment, but I paid them no mind. One was orange and stood for oxygen levels, which were fine, another purple, saying that the ship’s shields were in prime condition.

All that mattered was the green light that pulsed soothingly, master of all the other lights. It never wavered, never dulled. But if it did, then I would know if my ship would begin its own deterioration, like all the others before it.

Course was steady, acceleration normal. The ship didn’t travel at warp speed, but something close to it. Propelling us towards a final destination with the promise of a new home. Humanity had to rebuild, repopulate. We couldn’t just give up and become the stuff of legend or half-baked theories.

Science fiction usually painted humanity as the victor over alien species, worlds and technology. We conquered, we mastered. But that was fiction. Would it really happen in reality? I certainly didn’t know, but I dreamed and wished it so.

Stars streaked past the windows, winking and twinkling at me, saying hello in their own way. Did any of them appear in an alien planet night sky? Did suns of other colors burn just as bright?

Suddenly, the comforting green pulsating glow began to flash yellow, indicating that a vital system was about to go critical. But which one? I quickly did a ship wide scan to see, then let my hands go limp and slip away from the console.

Life support in the cryogenic pods. The crew would be dead within minutes, deprived of oxygen and liquid nutrients. There was nothing I could do.

Would I be next? Possibly. There was only so much oxygen that the air scrubbers could produce; recycling stale air over the course of a thousand Earth days. So, I sat back in my chair and watched the green light flash yellow, then red, then back to green. It seemed to wink at me, as if to say “Everything is normal again. Do not worry.”

I sighed and closed my eyes. Don’t worry. Sure. My life hung in the balance. I did not know how long I had until my life support gave out. The light would be my damnation and salvation. Demon and Angel.

“Systems critical. Life support will shut down in t-minus twenty seconds.”

Twenty seconds. My heart began to beat wildly against my ribcage like a trapped animal, breath hitching in my chest. Oh, God. I was going to die. No one to comfort me, tell me it would be alright.

“T-minus ten seconds to system wide failure.”

The light stayed green, but duller now. My eyes fixated on it, unwavering, unblinking. It was the last thing I saw as my breathing stopped.