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The FarSpace Fleet was doing its rounds in the DeepSpace tunnel. Men in uniform at various computers mentioning certain coordinates and status of the ship. It wasn’t until a small red blip appeared on the radar that the men began to panic.
“Colonel!” One of the feetmen turned from his computer, “We have a distress signal, it matches that of a Deep Space Aviation jet.”
“Any signs of life?” The voice was cold and collected, almost indifferent. There are rapid clicks on various computers, heat scans and other devices trying to pick up information.
“Yes, just barely though. What are your orders Colonel?” another voice sounded.
“Get close enough and open the bay, use the pulley and get the jet inside then send the medics down.” The orders were clear and everyone scurried off sending the orders through the radios, getting close enough to the wrecked jet and proceeding.
~
It was cold. I could feel the cool metal through my flight suit. Dull red flashes surrounded me. Methodically pulsing. How long has it been? Am I still alive? I couldn’t think, my mind felt like mush, dull throbbing seeming to match the pulsing lights. I felt my body jolt, was the jet moving? Was it sinking further into the restraints of the orbit? My mind could barely process the sound of the cockpit being pried open, voices surrounded me yelling various phrases. I couldn’t understand anything, it was as if I was underwater, the voices muted and muddled. I felt the shift in my joints, I was moved into a lying down position. My mind finally gave way and everything around me became dark.
~
Medics and mechanics surrounded the jet, having to pry open the damaged cockpit and make sure the jet was secure. Medics removed the pilot, helmet lined red with blood, even with the cut on the forehead it was clear the pilot was female.
As the woman was wheeled off to medbay the mechanics searched through the cockpit looking to see if they can identify the pilot, one held the helmet trying to clean off the dust to read the call sign engraved on the side.
“Holy shit,” he whispered, “you guys aren’t going to believe this-” he was cut off by another one who was searching the cockpit.
“Naw man I think I got you beat,” he holds two pictures in his hand, his face pale, examining the shiny worn-papers.
“I highly doubt that-” he holds up the helmet, “this pilot went missing on a classified mission nearly two weeks ago! It's a miracle she is even breathing-”
The one in the cockpit holds up the two wallet sized photos, one showing a woman holding a newborn baby the other showing her in a white dress standing next to an oddly familiar man in a suit.
“No. Fucking. Way.” the one holding the helmet locked eyes with a familiar pair of violet eyes in the photograph. “Is that-”
“We need to report this immediately,” the one holding the photos jumps from the cock-pit the two walk as quickly as they can to the main part of the ship. Barging in unannounced to the monitor filled room as everyone starts to get the large ship back on course. “COLONEL!” A man’s head jerks in the direction of the out of breath mechanics.
He approaches the two, steps heavy and methodical, “showing up unannounced?” His tone sent a shiver down the two mens spine. They had in fact just broken protocol.
One holds up the dented and bloodied helmet, “this call sign belongs to a pilot who went MIA two weeks ago, sir. And she is somehow alive in medbay.” the Colonel nods in acknowledgement.
“And you couldn’t simply radio that in?”
“Sir these were in the cockpit, you probably want to take a look.” the other holds out the two photographs. The Colonel curled an eyebrow taking the images in his gloved hand.
Looking down his face remained emotionless, the only hint to what was ransacking his mind was a slight tightening of his hands slightly wrinkling the pictures. “These pictures are to remain between us,” he puts the images in his uniform pocket, “go retrieve the black box from the jet.” He returned to the main area checking coordinates and the ship's information. Neither of the men could tell what the Colonel was thinking, they did however know not to question the order and immediately left the control center.
Meanwhile in the medbay the doctors and nurses rushed to hook the pilot up to various IVs and oxygen, getting her stabilized. Thankfully it seemed luck was on their side and everything regulated fairly easily, they began cleaning and stitching the wounds and abrasions likely received on the impact of the crash. Over the next couple hours there was a rotation of nurses monitoring the situation waiting to receive further orders from the higher ups.
When the black box was recovered the Colonel asked for it to be played. With the advancements of technology a short video was included alongside the audio. Recording the pilot's final moments. The image filled the screen, the video was shaking, likely from the jet's unstable nature. The woman gritted her teeth as she tries to control the machine but ultimately fails.
“My engine has been hit by an unknown source,” the audio was crackly but still clear enough to understand, “I am going to crashland- I am not going to make it home.” Her voice wavered slightly coming to the realization. Something knocks the side of the jet causing her to curse, “shit- tell Lavenda, tell my baby that mommy loves her very much, and she never wanted to leave her. Tell her Mommy is sorry for leaving her.” the pilots voice grew watery as tears fell down her face, her eyes glanced to something oh her dash she bites her lip. “Tell her mommy has gone to be with daddy in the sky, and when it comes time we will be waiting for her.” A choked sob comes from the woman, “I am so sorry baby, I love you Lav-” the voice was cut off upon the jet's impact along with the video.
Nobody spoke a word when the footage came to an end. Too stunned and shocked at the emotionally charged stab wound they received. Nobody noticed the Colonel immediately leave the bay going to the medbay without saying a word.
The polished boots created dull thumps on the floor, not acknowledging the salutes as he passed by, he was too focused on getting to her. The two pictures stashed away in his pocket felt as though they weighed a ton, the weight and emotions they carried. Eventually he arrived at the room, not even hesitating to enter.
~
My head was throbbing, my eyes cracked open, wincing at the bright lights. Was this death? If it was death felt a lot like a hospital.
“You’re awake,” the voice was familiar. Even with the cold tone it warmed my soul.
“C-Caleb,” my voice was hoarse, barely even audible. My eyes focus on the figure standing next to me. It wasn’t Caleb, it was a cold officer. He had the same face as my dead husband, but it wasn’t him his eyes were too cold, too dead. The man at my bedside didn’t speak. I weakly lift my hand to rub my dry eyes, but I am stopped by a gloved hand. A hand too cold to be my husband.
“Don’t you have stitches on your face,” the man sounded like Caleb.
“Am I dead?”
“You are on the Farspace Fleet, we picked up on your distress signal-”
“I apologize,” I cough at the dryness in my mouth, “you look like someone I once knew.”
“Who might that be,” the man's voice softened ever so slightly but his eyes still held the coldness and cruelty fitting of his uniform.
“My husband died seven months ago in an explosion.” My voice was strained, I began coughing again, bringing a hand up to cover my mouth, the coughs grew more violent and racked my body. A cold stiff hand rubs my back, the action gentle despite the man’s rigid demeanor. When the coughs started to subside I noticed he was handing me a bottle of water. I sip the chilled liquid, having to resist gulping it. “Thank you,” my voice wasn’t as raspy now.
“What if I said, your husband wasn’t dead.” the man whispered, losing his cold edge. I look at him with wide eyes, understanding his words. This was Caleb, this was my Caleb.
“I would ask him to be honest with me,” I whisper looking at the gloved hand that rested near my own. His fingers tapped in a familiar rhythm. Morse Code.
C-A-M-E-R-A, C-A-R-E-F-U-L
I understood the implications of what he said, we aren’t able to speak freely. I gave a slight nod. I can’t get emotional right now. “If my husband is alive, I would want him to know he has a beautiful daughter. She is with my sister back in Linkon.” I keep my voice as even as possible, while trying to give him information. There was a shift in his eyes, a hint of something behind the cold exterior. He reaches into his uniform pocket pulling out two pictures, I immediately recognize them. He hands them to me, gloved hand grazing my own. I look at them, one of me and Caleb on our wedding day nearly 3 years ago, the other was taken by my sister a week after I gave birth and sat for an entire day at his grave.
I handed back the one of Lavenda and I to him, “if you see my husband can you give him that?” I noticed the slight tremble in his hand as he took the photo.
“I am sure he will love it,” he whispered looking at me, then back at the image. Squinting slightly to see the bundle in my arms. “We have sent word to your sister, when we land in Sky Haven tomorrow she will bring your daughter with her.” He taps his fingers again.
B-E, B-A-C-K, 2000, C-A-M, O-F-F
He stands up and swiftly exits the room, not sparing a parting glance. I was once again alone, but I am alive. I get to see my baby. My husband who I thought died all those months ago is actually alive and caught up in God knows what. Everything ransacks my mind at once trying to process.