A Thousand Worlds Too Far

By Theodore Alexander Hall

Spit flew against the plastic visor as a tear danced upon a slender cheek. The suit stuck firmly in the empty void, a ripple of grey in the endless black. He watched with anticipation as his palm closed, fingers gliding through the heavens. It was an odd sensation, no limit, no restriction, no tether to the faucets of aspiration. Laughter flew from his parched and blistered lips, blue eyes filling with wonder at the sea of stars that floated by the frosted glass. The rays of the sun warmed his icy skin, trickling waves of heat flooding towards all. In calm movements, the astronaut turned his head, helmet buckling as it twisted. When he shuffled, twisting in the expanse, rubber pressed into his thigh, blood slowly spewing from the wound. It stayed there floating in serenity. Tiny red swirls destined to haunt him for the remainder of his hindered breath.

“Twenty-two” He whispered.

His gloved fingers curled and stretched, feeling the empty void.

I always thought I’d have more time More time

An expanse of stars watched as he struggled, lonely yet beautiful, a chorus of light cascaded before his tearful eyes. The glint of the station’s hull could be seen in the distance, a spec as far as one could see. It contrasted the endless night, a beacon in the dark. Its shattered form cast a shadow upon his ashen heart, tarnished metal spewing from the open steel.

He still had a duty to fulfill, a service to an unspoken name. Hands gripped onto the suit’s dormant controls and the pilot grimaced in pain as streaks of air sprang from the pack. The jet hurdled him towards the wreckage, silver fabric tearing through the expanse.

I don’t understand. Don’t they want to know?

Gloves outstretched he braced for the worst as the first piece of shrapnel whizzed by, a serrated shard brushing past his shoulder. Determination unwavering, he kept his eyes firmly locked upon the task in front. His pupils burned with the fire of hatred, yet no emotion seared across his face. His entire body, essence, had become one goal, his soul torn apart, resown and restitched for a single purpose.

Starting back thrusters the suit slowed yet his fingers tensed, muscles contracting and fumbling on the controls as more and more blood clouded the open

tear. Tape covered the stretched purple fabric sealing the contents inside. He could feel himself bleed, his energy slowly dissipating, his hands and feet numbing to the horrid cold. A yearning for eternal sleep spread across his veins yet he fought back, wrestling to stay at the brink of death.

A book floated past as he aimed for the station’s core, the yellowed pages corroded and frayed. It was peaceful and dormant in every aspect. Paper floating in the darkness, pages slowly open like a butterfly in the wind, serenity in every essence, yet at the same time the damage it bore weighed heavily on his soul. Writing flowed like a river, surging through the thin spindly pages to meet a blackened edge. It was so delicate, frail to the touch as it drifted into the leagues of the unknown.

Hands outstretched, he grabbed onto the blackened metal hull. The railing was located on a panel nearest to the impact site. Metal dinged on his visor causing him to avert his gaze. The missile had torn through the research module like butter. Debris was everywhere. Thousands of tiny scraps of flotsam hovered in a swarm around the shattered craft. A deconstructed puzzle, waiting for an invisible hand to sweep the pieces into their former glory. A hand that would never come. The station was designed to take impact but never tempered to the heart of war. Never forged to withstand an assault at the brutal hand of its own master.

Pressing the red clip on his side, the pilot slid out of the jetpack, his frail body slowly gliding onto the surface. He left the instrument behind, equipment discarded to the edge of time. Fingers gripped in determination he swung himself inside the first compartment. As he moved, he glanced down to the planet below. Earth lay in its beautiful glory, a blue marble in the sea of black, hope in an inferno of darkness. Clouds whipped across the sunlit landscape as the pilot held his gaze. Such beauty in such evil. He could sense their fear as his eyes wandered, and he knew somewhere along the pearly blue he was not only watching rolling hills and swirling seas. He was watching the Earth burn.

He made his way down the corridor. Flickering lights blared in his covered eyes. A corpse floated by as he drifted to the main console. Its familiar skin was withered and pale, a ghostly face caught in a mixture of surprise and awe. At first, he moved to grasp it, hold the body dear in his cold clutch and mourn the hysteria of death but he had neither time nor tears to spare.

Don’t they want to know?

The pilot passed a cracked window as he climbed, and from it, he was reminded of its truth that another strike would soon come from the planet. Be it an hour, or a second. Only time could tell. Clumsy fingers punched a familiar set of codes into the cracked screen before the pilot stuck a chip into the drive. The device that would contain his work. He sifted the stick in his open palm. The tiny glint of metal had

survived so much, such resilience in the face of such horror. He knew in his heart it would always prevail. Unlike him, there was not a single dent or puncture to mar its perfection, it’s hold unyielding and eternal. Empty now, in a matter of moments the husk would contain his life’s work. Ten long years encased in a mere inch of wire.

If it broke the sanctimony of the stars it would rise to live forever, burst out of its meagre shell and haunt every crevice of the world until thought seized to pilfer the barren rock. Even then it would only return to its former world, waiting for a discovery bound by the antics of fate. It would incite hate, love, and fear, causing cities to rise from ash and empires crumble. Newfound aspirations and plights would sear from the drudgery of lies. Death would follow like shepherds to a flock and soon rivers would run red as the halls of humankind prospered in words unknown to the pages of time. Irony transfixed in thought. Evil and good, blended so firmly, so beautifully into every blasphemous scratch.

A flash darted across the screen as the transfer was completed. Silence engulfed his thoughts as he smiled. Pocketing the device, the pilot pushed out of the shelter and back into the empty void. Sparks flew from the frayed wire as he made his way down the splintered hall. In Front, the station was split in two, with research consoles and laboratory equipment scattered throughout. Fragments of glass floated in serenity. Patches of scientific remains lay motionless skimming through the darkness. Breath held in trepidation, the Pilot made a leap of faith, soaring through the vacuum to have his chest strike the metal. His gloves slipped as his arms flailed, desperately grasping at the debris and struggling to hold onto the craft. Pieces of rubble crumbled in his hand, flaking away into a fine powder. He clutched down with all his might, tearing into the rock but the more he squeezed the more flakes slipped between his fingers. Swinging his wrist backward, he latched firmly onto the tarnished steel and hoisted himself forward.

Don’t they want to know?

Using every ounce of his strength to continue his journey, his vision began to corrode. He ran his hand along the metal frame and stumbled as he floated. His eyes locked onto a computer before him, sparking briefly in the dark. Somehow it still worked, a temporary backup in case of failure. Fate dealt a cruel hand. With sluggish movements, he pressed the same key into the drive and broadcasted it in full.

They hadn’t expected one to live, yet one always would, a fire in the night. A glimmer in the shadows. To the billions that sat below, wallowing in their ignorance, he sent his work, the project they had killed to hide. The Truth.

Taking one last look around the shattered hull, he cast a glimpse towards the computer’s scorched skin and saw a light flash green. The task was fulfilled. A weak smile spread across his blue lips. For a moment he rested, eyes closed and senses soaking in as much as life could muster. Cold slid across his limbs, a terrible biting wave

of terror. Yet this time he did not fight. Wheezing in agony, he made his way to the wreckage’s opening and jumped, pushing out as far as he could into the void. As he flew, soaring through the night, he glanced towards the planet below and laughed. As he lay there, floating among the stars, basking in the radiance of the sun, he knew he and Earth were on the same path. An alarm blared in his suit and blood spiraled about before his leg, tiny spheres swirling beneath the thick fabric. Embracing the cold the Doctor opened his eyes and stared with all his might at the beauty of the stars, the domain his people would one day sail.

Theodore Alexander Hall is a 17 year old Canadian high school student. He is new to writing and enjoys playing the flute. In his spare time he writes action and science fiction.