Nebulous Echoes

by Jeff Cochran

The spacecraft rattles like a bucket of cheap toys. Alarm shrieks entangle with passenger screams from aft of the flight deck. 

“More debris!” Murisier’s hand skims the controls. “I can’t get us away from it.”

“Do your best and kill that alarm.” Lieutenant Houtkooper orders. Then her expression turns sickly, her hair floating as if under water.

“Artificial gravity is out.” Weichert announces from the engineer’s station.

Houtkooper bunches her hair. “No shit, fix it!”

“I’ve got hull breaches aft.” Weichert replies. “The auto-regenerative hull isn’t working. Gravity will have to wait.”

“Got it chief, off with you.”

Weichert’s already out the hatch, pulling himself through the passenger area. The passengers, now refugees, focus on him, looking for assurance. He focuses on the way aft. Lucent Ranger, Hopeful Jammer, and Blazing Icarus we’re the only lifeboats to escape The Alanna Celeste before she exploded. Passenger reassurance will have to wait.

He reaches the aft compartment, pressing the access control. The door slides into the wall, partially. He wedges his body between the door and the door jamb, pressing hard to open the door.

The air is cold; three mini vortices mist the air as it’s sucked into space along the outer wall. He raises his left hand, sheath with a Data Flex, tapping his thumb and middle finger. A hologram appears above the glove indicating the three micro punctures are just the tip of the iceberg. The entire wall is unstable and will blow out to space if he doesn’t do something fast. 

He pulls a package of four tabs from his pocket, the components for a temporary forcefield. Tapping a toe against the wall, his inertia takes him to the outer wall’s left corner. He removes an adhesive strip and presses the square into the wall’s corner. Then he reaches for the floor, repeating the process. A gentle push nudges him to the wall’s right corner, where he places the remaining tabs.

Pushing away from the wall, he taps the hologram above the Data Flex. The forcefield’s initialization progress bar creeps across the screen.

The hissing increases, the punctures widening at an alarming rate. 

A maelstrom erupts, the wall exploding outward. The atmosphere rushes toward open space. Weichert is ripped from his feet and pulled toward the blackness.

The Data Flex bleeps. The forcefield ignites. He slams into a wall of light, and floats limply, unconscious.

…

Weichert’s eyes flutter.

“Daniel. How ya doing?” Warm hands cradle his face. Medic Christine Toyouri gently rolls his head, looking for damage.

“What the—” Weichert twists hard, realizing he’s floating.

“Easy, you hit the forcefield pretty hard when the bulkhead blew. You may have a concussion.” She removes a small flashlight from her med kit. “How’re you feeling?”

“I have a headache.”

“No doubt. Do you feel dizzy? Any nausea?”

Weichert shakes his head, makes a face. “That didn’t help the headache.”

“Okay, hold still.” She presses his eyelid back and flashes the light into his eye. Weichert’s iris instantly reduces in size. Pulling the light away, the iris returns to its original size. She holds the other eye open and repeats the procedure. “This looks promising.”

Christine lifts Weichert’s wrist, leaving his sheathed hand floating free in zero gravity. “What’s that used for?”

Weichert knots his eyebrow, “You wanna know what my hand is used for?”

She scoffs. “Not the hand, the device on your hand.”

“Oh! That’s my Data Flex. I use that for diagnostic and programming purposes.”

“I think we can rule out shock.” A pulsing glow under Weichert’s neckline catches her attention. “What’s this?” She asks, pushing the tunic aside.

“What’s what?”

“I didn’t know you were wearing a Sentyma.” Her eyes widen seeing the small jewels. “And you have two.”

“They’re from Lena and Sadie.”

“Who?” She frowns.

“My wife and daughter.”

“Were they on The Alanna Celeste?”

“Oh no, I lost them three years ago during the Bluphage outbreak on Deloron Four.”

“And you’re still wearing them?”

“I forget they’re there. I think they’re broken.”

“Why do you think that?” She squints with concern.

“You’re supposed to feel what the giver was feeling when they were recorded. I’ve never felt anything when wearing these.”

“They usually dissipate after a year.” Christine watches his response. “To keep the wearer from becoming addicted.”

“Like I said, they’re broken.”

Houtkooper’s voice crackles over the radio. “Toyouri, how’s Weichert?”

She taps a button at her neckline. “He may have a slight concussion, but otherwise he’s fine.”

“Good, send him up here. Passengers are getting sick. I need him to fix the gravity.”

Christine rolls her eyes. “I guess rest is out of the question. Call me if you have any problems.”

Weichert nods and shoves off toward the door. When he’s out of sight, she taps her neckline again. “He’s on his way, lieutenant.”

“Good.”

“I am concerned about him, lieutenant.”

“What’s the problem?”

“He’s wearing two active Sentymas, for a deceased wife and daughter. He’s not showing any signs of emotional distress or addiction. He says he’s been wearing them for some time. I’m concerned he may be emotionally compromised as a result. Please report any abnormal behavior to me.”

“You got it, thanks for the update.”

…

Weichert pulls himself through the flight deck hatch, grateful to have avoided swimming through any floating vomitus.

“What the hell is that?” Rob Murisier’s voice sounds like a teenager.

“Easy Rob.” Houtkooper says. “Set course to one-nineteen mark twelve. That’ll move us around—that.”

“What’s going on?” Weichert asks, floating up to the pilot’s chair.

“The spectrometer is on the fritz. I need an analysis of that.” Houtkooper points out the view port.

Weichert cranes his head upward. His eyes widen.

Drifting through space, like a dandelion on the breeze, is a living creature. A core sphere extruding eight leafy pedals, shimmering with hues of green and gold. Wrapped around its circumference are tendrils, each arching out to meet a small sphere, then in turn extending like angle hair spaghetti floating in water. Hues of colored light traveling along the tendrils, shifting from reds to violets.

Weichert inhales deeply, a wave of warmth washing over him. Those colors tugging at something he hasn’t felt in a long time. His vision blurs with tears.

“It’s beautiful.” He whispers.

“Thanks for the aesthetic analysis, Weichert!” Murisier snaps. “We need a spectral analysis.” 

“Daniel, please, as soon as possible.” Houtkooper looks at him with pleading eyes. 

He nods. “I’m on it, lieutenant.” Pushing away from the pilot’s seat, he gently scratches at the center of his chest. 

He takes a seat at the sensor station, tapping the controls. No results. 

Pulling himself under the desk, he removes a cove panel. Within minutes, the sensors flicker to life. “The sensors are initializing, lieutenant. Give it a minute and you’ll have access.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Weichert.” 

Pulling himself forward, Weichert looks for the creature. “Where is it?”

“Behind us!” Murisier spits.

Weichert points to a patch of the nebula that looks like a cloud of blood speckled with green. “What is that?”

“That’s the way home. Our course to Bende Galyspo takes us through that?” Murisier says.

“It looks volatile.”

“It’s a nebula, Weichert. They all look volatile.” He turns, irritation in his eyes. “How about fixing the gravity before I puke on you?”

Weichert pushes away from the seat.

“Wait, Weichert.” Houtkooper turns in her chair. “Blazing Icarus just lost life support. I need you to suit up and head over.”

“What about their engineer?” Murisier sulks.

“They didn’t get one on board before leaving The Celeste. Weichert is the only tech officer in our sorry ass little fleet.”

“Great—”

Houtkooper unbuckles her harness. “I’ll assist Weichert with his suit. You have the flight deck until I return.” 

…

Houtkooper places the helmet over Weichert’s head, the faceplate open. “Don’t let Murisier get to you. I think he skipped stress management at the academy.”

“Copy that, lieutenant.”

“Speaking of stress, how are you holding up?” Her eyes searching his.

“I’m fine, ma’am.”

“Okay. I need to address a concern, Daniel. Christine informed me about the Sentymas you’re wearing. Per regulations, I must question your emotional state. Prolonged exposure to those devices have been known to lead to emotional instability.”

“As I explained to Christine, both devices are faulty.”

“And you’re sure of that?”

“I haven’t felt a thing since putting them on. I wear them as a reminder of my wife and little girl.”

“Alright. If you have any problems, I need to know immediately. Understand? You’re the only engineer we have. If we’re going to get these people home, I need you at your best.”

…

Weichert always enjoyed a good spacewalk. Blazing Icarus was ahead, his environmental suit locked onto its airlock, leaving Weichert free to enjoy the view.

Until he glimpses pen pricks of light along Icarus’s hull. He activates his camera and zooms in. Oxygen is misting along the outer hull, and micro explosions are igniting in the mist. And they’re increasing.

“Weichert, come in!” Houtkooper sounds stressed.

“Lieutenant, I have some troubling—”

“Weichert, turn toward your nine and look up seventy degrees. That thing is approaching your location.”

Using his maneuvering thrusters, he rotates his orientation up and left. “Oh.” A massive tangle of tendrils spread out in his direction. “That’s a lot bigger than I thought.”

“I need you to return to Lucent Ranger, immediately.”

“I’m on it, lieutenant. But you have to warn Icarus. Their venting oxygen, and it’s causing a reaction with something in the nebula. They need to shut down oxygen pressure in the propulsion section—”

The tendrils surround him, followed by the creature’s leafy structure. He’s overwhelmed with color and light and—

“Weichert, can you read—?” Houtkooper’s voice disintegrates.

Weichert swallows past a lump. A pounding rises against his ribs as a wave of pricklies rush up his neck.  He closes his eyes, color bathing his inner eye lid. In his mind’s eye he sees water, tinted violet, foaming. He sees his daughter’s smile, his wife’s hair. The water rises against his chest, the pressure—

The tendrils’ part. The light diminishes to space; except the glow where Blazing Icarus was a moment ago.

“Weichert. Are you okay?” 

“I’m here, lieutenant. What just happened?”

“Icarus exploded. I’ve slaved your suit to my controls. I’m bringing you in. Did that thing cause the explosion?”

Weichert blinks rapidly. His cheeks are wet. 

“Weichert! Answer me! Did that thing cause the explosion?”

“I—don’t think so.” He watches the expanding cloud, once Icarus. “I think it was protecting me.”

Murisier’s voice stabs at him. “Are you kidding me, Weichert?”

“Stand down Rob. Let’s discuss this when Weichert’s onboard.”

…

“What happened!” Houtkooper demands.

“It’s hard to explain. Once that thing put itself between Icarus and me, I started—” He stops, glancing at Murisier’s contemptable stare.

“Continue.” Houtkooper watches with an eye on Murisier.

“I started getting impressions, feelings.”

“Feelings!” Murisier sneers.

“Yes, feelings of urgency, anxiety. I think this thing communicates using emotions. And it was warning me. Then it wrapped itself around me before Icarus exploded.”

“Why are you listening to this? We’re under attack and—”

“Do you see those tiny flashes?” Weichert interrupts. “That’s the same thing I saw on Icarus before—”

“We see things like that all the time in nebulas.”

“Let him speak, Rob. What are you thinking, Daniel?”

“I think there are compounds in this nebula that we’re unfamiliar with and they could be dangerous. We don’t know what caused The Alanna Celeste or Icarus to explode.”

Houtkooper’s instruments bleep three times in rapid succession. “Several creatures are approaching.” She gasps. “They appear to be blocking our way.”

“Maybe we should change course.” Weichert looks to Murisier.

 “I’m not going around them.” Murisier clenches his jaw.

“Rob!”

“We have injured back there. Every time we change course we burn through our fuel.”

Weichert inhales, nausea washing over him.

Houtkooper notices. “What is it?”

Weichert nods toward the view port. Two creatures are approaching Lucent Ranger, tendrils wide, rapidly flashing blood red and violet colors.

“They don’t want us going that way.” Weichert rubs his chest. “We have to change course.”

“Rob, change course away from that cloud.”

“Why, because he has a feeling? What if they’re manipulating him?”

They both look to Weichert, breathing heavily. “They’re scared for us.”

“Bull shit.”

“Are you sure, Daniel?” Houtkooper asks.

“I’ve never felt anxiety like this. It has to be from them.”

“Are you sure this isn’t your problem?” Murisier nods to the flashing light at Weichert’s neckline. “He’s wearing a Sentyma.”

“They’re broken.”

“They! You have more than one?” Murisier scoffs. “He’s an addict, Colleen.”

“There’s one way to be sure.” Houtkooper holds out her hand. “Take off the Sentymas.”

Weichert looks pained. “They’re from my wife and daughter.”

“Give them to me, Daniel.”

Weichert stares, a look of defiance in his eyes.

“I bet he’s compromised by those things out there.”

Weichert sneers. He reaches inside his tunic and yanks, hard. The Sentymas come off in his fist, still pulsing as he hands them to Houtkooper. “Can we change course now?”

“Are you still feeling the anxiety?” Houtkooper studies his response.

“Even more so.” He nods toward the view port. There are now four of the creatures, tendrils spread wide, moving to block Ranger’s passage.

“I wish I had weapons.”

“No, you don’t.” Weichert pulls himself closer. “Please change course.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Look at the flashing lights in that cloud, they’re intensifying like before Icarus exploded.”

“Rob, change course.”

“You’re going to kill us if you don’t change course.”

“You need a tranquillizer.” Murisier snaps.

“Dammit, Murisier. Look at what’s going on out there. Something’s building up and it’s going to explode again.”

“Get off the flight deck, Weichert. You’ve lost it.”

Weichert puts Murisier in a head lock, attempting to pull him from the pilot’s chair. The motion causing him to lose footing and float. He clutches for the flight controls. 

Houtkooper pulls at him. “Weichert, stand down!”

“We can’t go in there.” Weichert growls.

The craft rattles around them.

“What is that, more debris?” Houtkooper’s eyes widen.

“Or them.” Murisier points at the creatures.

“Change course, Murisier.”

“Too late.” Houtkooper gasps.

The nebula ignites. Roiling explosions in all directions. The four creatures wrap their tendrils around Lucent Ranger and Hopeful Jammer. A maelstrom of fire boils past, shaking the ship.

Weichert’s chest pounds like before, but more painfully this time. In his mind’s eye he again sees water, violet, frothing. His daughter smiles: the scent of his wife’s hair overwhelms him. Water runs down his face. The pressure against his chest is unbearable, and the pounding—Explodes!

The creatures float lifeless; their light diminished to a dark violet.

Weichert’s balled up like a fetus, sobbing.

“Are they dead?” Houtkooper stares.

“No, but they’re in pain.” Weichert whispers.

“Why did they save us?” Murisier’s shaking, gawking wide eyed.

“Look!” Houtkooper points, one of the creatures is opening its tendrils, its light slowly returning.

The others do the same, except for one. It moves closer, a solitary tendril reaches out and hangs before the view port. Weichert reaches for it. “Thank you.” 

The creature glides away.

“Lieutenant, may I have my Sentymas back?”

“Of course.” Houtkooper hands over the two devices. 

Weichert presses his eyes close. Tears escape in droplets, floating in zero gravity.

His body shutters uncontrollably. “I can feel them. I can finally feel them.”

Houtkooper places a hand on his shoulder.

“I missed them so much.”