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The view from the Communications Room had always comforted Commander Minkowski. Of course, you might see just about the same view as with any of the other windows, possibly even a better view from other places like the Observation Deck.
But the Comms Room had an innate comfort to it. The normalcy of chiding Eiffel for the latest in a series of stupid mistakes, or missing his shift duties again. It reminded her of the early days of their mission. Things had been simpler… despite their constantly breaking ship, or the lack of resources they had been sent to the Hephaestus with. It had been nicer.
But now as she looked around the room that screamed Eiffel… she felt anything but comfort.
Fifty five days.
Fifty five days since she had last seen that man, since she’d last heard him make some stupid pop-culture reference, since she’d last seen him crack a smug smile when he caught her laughing at one.
Fifty five days too long. These days, when she wasn’t on the Bridge or in her quarters or working on repairs, she found herself here. Surrounded by notebooks with Eiffel’s scribbled notes or doodles. His copy of Pryce and Carter that remained firmly within it’s plastic wrapping. The iPod that was definitely not standard issue that Eiffel must have snuck into his luggage along with the 20 cartons of cigarettes.
Minkowski found herself in his seat once more, a seat covered in worn leather that had seen better days and was lacking in any kind of lumbar support. It still somehow managed to be comfortable. It still stank of Eiffel’s cigarettes.
She had never thought the day would come that she might find the smell of cigarettes comforting.
She picked up the receiver for the communications equipment Eiffel had always used to search the stars for any signs of life, the same receiver he often recorded his logs into.
She cleared her throat before holding down the talker.
“Pan-pan. Pan-pan. Pan-pan” She spoke into the receiver, and as she let go of the button she heard only silence and static.
The lieutenant brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, her usually perfectly-made bun was a mess of loose hair and grease. Things had changed, keeping up appearances had become harder to maintain.
Mere weeks after the star turned blue, after they’d lost Eiffel, she had found the cracks and it had immediately become clear to her that they were living on board a ticking time bomb. Things were tense to say the least, her crew constantly fighting in between attempts to repair their sinking ship.
In moments like those, she could feel an aching hole where Eiffel might stand. She knew Eiffel would be able to rip through the tension with a joke, or remind everyone to calm down. Despite his own chaotic energy, he as always so good at cooling hot heads.
Even as she sat there, there was no response. No snarky remark or witty one-liner. Just silence.
“This is Commander Minkowski of the Hephaestus speaking, does anybody read me?” she tried once more. And for another few minutes there remained that tense silence as she prayed there might be an answer.
She knew that no matter how she prayed for an answer, it was unlikely one would ever come.
Yet she pressed down on the talker button once more, leaning forward over Eiffel’s desk as she spoke.
“Eiffel, if you’re still out there somewhere. If… by some small chance you might still be getting this…. you better get your ass back here ASAP, got it, officer?” She asked, and though she aimed for a tone of anger, of the firm disciplinarian she had once been… it just sounded desperate.
Even Hera remained quiet now.
“Things are crazy back here, we need you more than ever. The crew won’t stop fighting. And I need you back here to sort them all out, get their heads on straight,” she continued now.
She waited for a response once more, imagined to herself what Eiffel might tell her. To get her head out of her ass and get their heads on straight herself.
You’re the damn Commander, Minkowski, you can figure it out just fine on your own.
No. No she couldn’t.
In all the chaos they had been through on this station, all the murderous mad scientists trying to take over the ship, all the plans of Lovelace’s they had to try and thwart, all the times Hera had bugged out and almost froze them alive or boiled them to death. In all that chaos, she had always had Eiffel by her side. No matter the odds.
Minkowski had always had her Communications Officer to count on, always by her side, always loyal to the last. Even as he was thrown out of orbit and sent hurtling into deep space.
She shook her head.
“Eiffel. Doug. I know you’re out there, somewhere, you have to be. You’ve gotten out of worse scrapes than this, and you can get through this one. I don’t care what you have to do, you survive and you get back to me. I can’t lose you. None of us can.
“It’s like that movie… oh god, what was it called again? The one with Tom Cruise. Oh! Castaway. He managed to survive through it all, right? And he was just some guy. You…. You’re Douglas Eiffel. Communications Officer of the Hephaestus… you’ve been through it all. You can do this.”
Renee Minkowski sat back in the chair, staring out at the blue star. She still couldn’t quite get used to that fact, that it was blue. That Eiffel was gone. That she was now trapped with two people she wasn’t sure that she could really trust, and an AI Autopilot who hated them both.
She knew she would make sure they all go out of there alive, if it killed her, but…that would have been easier with Eiffel on her side.
She pressed a button on the console, and through the loudspeakers, one of the more recent transmissions Eiffel had received before he left played out. It was Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. She closed her eyes for a moment as she listened to the notes of the piano drift around her.
How many hours Eiffel had spent in this very room, listening to music that was broadcasted across the stars and to them.
How many days he had spent trying to get in contact with those who were sending this music…. He must have hated it. She could only imagine he would prefer other music. She couldn’t imagine Doug Eiffel enjoying classical.
She picked up his iPod and started to flip through the music he had. David Bowie, Elton John and the like. Well, she couldn’t fault him for that. She did enjoy some good David Bowie.
She found herself pressing play on a song, reaching out blindly to the console to pause Beethoven, only for the sounds of Space Oddity to wash over her out of tinny speakers from the iPod.
Without thinking, she found herself pressing the talker button on the receiver once more and holding it up to the iPod.
Eiffel had always communicated through the musical transmission they received…maybe somehow. Someway. He might hear this.
As the final notes played, Minkowski pressed pause and raised the receiver once more to her mouth.
“Come home, Eiffel…”