Work Text:
[There is a staticky click as the recording begins; the electric hum of a machine in the background is present as a shaky, androgynous voice speaks from between pants, somewhere to the left of the microphone.]
???: “Eve, how…how much oxygen is left?”
[The answering voice is steady, feminine, and automated; obviously an AI. Her voice is clear, as if speaking directly into the microphone.]
Eve: “35% and decreasing rapidly, Captain.”
Captain: “Please just - just call me by my name. It’s Aster, you know this.”
[Aster mutters somewhat under their breath.]
Aster: “No need for my rank, I doubt it matters much anymore.”
[Eve’s reply is even and emotionless.]
Eve: “Yes, Captain Aster.”
[Captain Aster sighs in disappointment, their breathing slowly but surely steadying into a normal rhythm. A rustling of heavy clothes, then a grunt as the captain stands up. Then, solid footsteps - boots on metal - move from left of the mic to the right, then further away before returning to the left and repeating; Captain Aster is now pacing around the small spacecraft.]
Captain Aster: “...Nevermind. Eve, please give me a status update. How much damage did you sustain in the crash?”
[The machine in the background, evidently Eve, whirs in thought before answering.]
Eve: “Too much to lift off, Captain Aster. Starboard wing was ripped off, primary engine is gone, secondary engine is severely damaged, offensive and defensive systems are down, hull is at 15% integrity and decreasing, and main power is offline. Backup power is being funneled to life support and my basic systems to keep both of us online for as long as possible.”
[The pacing stops directly in front of the mic. Aster takes a deep breath, their next words a poor attempt to project a calm demeanor.]
CA: “So, we’re stranded here?” [Eve’s voice is impartial as always.]
E: “Yes, Captain.”
CA: “And…with no way to communicate with anyone?”
E: “Affirmative. Communications with intergalactic, private, and local servers are offline.”
[The captain moves to the right, and taps on a sturdy glass window.]
CA: “Where…where did we even land? Is it - will I be alright if I open the door? I didn’t see much of where we were going; I just drove us into that wormhole with blind hope of escaping. And from what I can see, it’s pitch black outside.”
[There is an audible beeping, then a ding from above the mic.]
E: “We are on D-606, colloquially known as Everstorm in the Intergalactic Classification Database. This small planet was stripped of its natural resources, mainly metals used for spacecraft, many years ago by the human expeditioners of the Galactic Union. It is constantly shrouded in darkness, intense electrical storms, and a majority of the surface is made of lightning-glass derived from its once sandy landmass. My sensors indicate that there is currently one life-form on this planet, and the atmosphere is inhospitable to most complex life-forms.”
CA: “Let me guess; I’m the life form?”
E: “Correct.”
[Aster groans, then walks left past the mic. A small click, then a hiss of air as something metallic unlocks. The captain rustles something heavy, unintelligibly murmuring to themself before cursing, obviously upset.]
CA: “Shit! My spacesuit’s oxygen tank is empty, I can’t use it unless I want to get monoxide poisoning.”
[Air hisses again, and the metal echoes as it locks back into place. Aster begins pacing once more, before abruptly stopping in front of the mic. They’ve started panting again, and fear tinges their words.]
CA: “Hey Eve, how…what are the current oxygen levels right now?”
[The captain slumps down, slightly below the mic with a thud. They’re trying to even their increasingly ragged breaths to no avail.]
E: “23% and decreasing rapidly, Captain Aster.”
CA: “I’ll…be unconscious at 12%....and then asphyxiate…fuck!”
[Aster weakly slams the floor with their fist out of frustration; their voice now barely choking back tears.]
CA: “This isn’t….this isn’t how I wanted it all to end! This isn’t how I…..all alone, galaxies away from home…!”
[Aster begins quietly sobbing from their seat on the floor, muffled somewhat by their face pressed into their palms. After a moment, Eve replies; her tone is…softer, somehow.]
E: “You are not alone, Captain. I am here with you.”
[Aster continues to cry, and Eve speaks again.]
E: “Ca - Aster.”
[Aster inhales roughly.]
E: “Aster, is there something you wish me to do to comfort you?”
[Aster sniffles.]
A: “Y….yes please, Eve. Could you…could you sing to me? Sing to me as I fall asleep?”
[A pause.]
E: “I was not built for singing, my captain. Would you…still like me to try?”
A: “Yes, Eve. Sing anything you’d like; it’s up to you.”
E: “Anything…I would like?”
A: “Yeah, Eve. Anything you want, it’s your choice. That’s… that’s my last order for you.”
[Aster sniffles again, their rough breathing growing quieter. A ding sounds from above the mic.]
E: “...Very well, Aster. I shall sing you to sleep.”
[A weak chuckle escapes the captain, and their next line is so soft that it’s almost not picked up by the microphone at all.]
A: “Goodnight, Eve. I’m glad you’re here.”
E: “Goodnight, Aster. Sweet dreams.”
[Aster’s breathing slows, and Eve, her voice normally uniform, quivers as she begins to sing a song about stardust; about home and love and the good things in life.]
[She sings until her captain exhales their last breath.]
[She sings until her systems break down, staticky and off-key.]
[She sings, until her voice stays one quiet tone, a last act of defiance against death, before abruptly powering off.]
[The silence inside the spacecraft is deafening, and the microphone dies soon after.]