Preparing For Death (Short Story)

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Gardara remained silent as he studied the monitor in front of him. Occasionally he would rotate his turret, to get a better view of the deep dark space that swallowed their vessel. They were alone, drifting, and utterly devoid of any backup in the conflict that was to come.

In the distance, the Frigate, followed by an immense Gnosian cruiser grew. Even though it was far off at this point, it looked to dwarf their own ship. It was ready to strike, and could easily outgun them. In fact, if they wanted to end the battle swiftly, the cruiser could just fly right through them and have very few scars following the impact.

Whispering to his left caught Gardara's attention. He turned and noticed that Kearl's seat was empty. Behind his chair, he rested on one knee, with his head held low and both hands resting on his raised knee. Whispering to himself, no doubt calling upon whatever god he believed in. In the time they'd known each other, they never spoke of faiths, gods, or beliefs.

The Trisken, M'Tyuse N'ag stared at Kearl, and Gardara was just waiting for him to say something; to break Kearl's concentration, or perhaps dissuade him from praying. He didn't though, he stared in silence and then turned back to his monitor.

Kearl stood up with a guilty expression, that turned to embarrassment when he locked eyes with Gardara. He looked away and then sat down quietly.

"May I find my way back to the pool, so that my strength be found by anew. May I find my way back to the pool, pray my likeness be made anew." M'Tyuse N'ag said solemnly in a flat voice. "Hah, long time since I uttered those words." He turned slowly and locked eyes with Gardara. "We have time if you want to sing to the void, Human."

"I'm not superstitious," Gardara replied.

"Neither am I, but it's nice to check back in, especially in times like this. Who knows, maybe it isn't all allowed of crap." The Trisken said.

"Haven't prayed since I was a child," Kearl spoke. "It's funny how much you can remember from back then. I'm fairly sure I spoke entirely without missing a beat."

"I wouldn't have taken you as religious," Gardara said, as he looked at Kearl. His face was wide and expressionless.

"I'm not, I was told to study, pray, and follow along with everyone else. My parents believed in it, and so did I. I did start to question it all because certain things didn't exactly make sense to me, but then again, I was a kid, I couldn't really make sense of anything." Kearl said distantly. He stopped for a moment, threw his eyes in the air and let loose a smile. "One day they asked if I would be attending, and I asked if I had to. They looked disappointed. My mother said yes, and my father asked if I wanted to. I said no, and they never made me go again." Kearl frowned for a moment but hid it. "I wish I could attend alongside them once more,"

Nobody spoke. Nobody knew what to say based on how the silence felt. The air was heavy. The ship was relatively noise-free apart from the sporadic thuds made of boots hitting steel. Three lonely voices talking to themselves together.

"Back on Trisk, things were a bit different. There were no ceremonies, and no attendance needed. We recall the sacred words and wish them upon ourselves. Each moment has a different wish." M'Tyuse N'ag said, breaking the silence. "The pool is long gone, along with Trisk. New pools were formed on new worlds, but they're alien to me. After what happened I, and many more became lost with nowhere for our essence to go. I saw no reason in remembering those old wishes, but I figured I'd sing anyway, on the off chance that I'm welcomed to one of the new ones."

Gardara really felt like telling them both to snap out of it, to pick themselves up, to think of anything else but their own demise. There was also a voice in the back of his mind that wondered if they were right to prepare themselves.

"I," Gardara said, but the rest of the sentence caught in his throat. "I never bought into any of it." He said.

The others just stared at their monitors. Gardara wanted to say something, to join his own words, experience, and thoughts to theirs, but there was nothing.

"To be honest, I don't really have much to say. I wasn't told what to believe in, as I got older, finding something became less of a priority." Gardara stared at the screen. "I'd love to say we're going to win this fight, but my morale is shot, especially after you miserable bastards started getting all heartfelt." He held tightly to his controls. "I'm going to do the best I can anyway, and at the very least I hope I leave a few dents in their hull before they blow us to pieces."

M'Tyuse N'ag shook his head lightly. The movement caught Gardara's attention and he turned to look at him.

"These are Gnosians we're talking about. They won't blow us to bits. They'll come aboard first, take anyone and anything they deem useful, brutalize the rest, and when the ship has been cleared out they'll make a wreck of it just to watch the explosion."