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The captain had always been fascinated with the idea of traveling through space. Being surrounded by the stars, the colors of the galaxy around swirling together assemble such an inspiring image that one could never recreate perfectly.
At the academy, they’d stare at textbooks and close themself tightly in their room to study, just for the chance for an opportunity to experience the life that many astronauts lived.
They would smile and decline any invitation for parties and hangouts, their mindset on the stars.
Mark had been an acquaintance, the closest they had to a friend. He would try to warm them up to him, to have them try new things. To live in the now, rather than in the clouds.
They were stubborn… but some nights, after long presentations, exams, awards, and so forth, they’d allow the presence of Mark to weigh them down. Let him drop the anchor and relax on the ground.
They’d sit side by side in the middle of night, staring at the white ceiling in the dark dorm room. The only light being the moon.
When they graduated, they were given it. A mission up there, the vast and endless place they adored. Stars in their eyes as they took the first steps into the ship of their first mission in space.
Regret and desolation are all they feel now when staring into the stars. Some of the stars are new to them, and the others are in places they don’t remember them being in.
The emptiness, devoid of life, was all the captain knew space as now. All those nights dreaming of a better life are left as dust in those barren cryo-pods.
The tired eyes saw too much destruction, so much pain. So much death. They lay against the window of the bridge, tilting their head to stare at the lone beacon.
Its quiet cries of help go unheard in the vast loneliness the ship had ended up in.
The captain’s tears had long dried, their emotions long spent, only a dull pain in their heart.
This was their punishment for being such a cruel and despicable captain.
They were cold and stoic. A strong and quiet leader who had seen many fallen before the invincible II. They had seen reality for what they thought it was.
This never-ending loop made them realize a few things, however.
Reality was far more complex than the human or any conscious being to understand. The lines of time are far too intertwined to dwell on. They are simultaneously older and the same age as when they stepped out of the cryo-pod the first time.
The lives lost had value, much more value than initially thought.
The captain watched their trusted head engineer and beloved friend, Mark, die over and over, cycle on cycle. He’s killed them; he’s wept on their shoulder. His bright smiles, comforting words, and the admiration in his eyes as he stared at them. The disgust and horror, the fear as the captain killed him, time after time. They had seen it all— a loop of both hope and despair.
They have watched people they’ve barely met hate and praise them for things they don’t remember. Sure, the human brain is complex, but it was never designed to hold onto hundreds of lives' worth of memories.
The pulsing light of the distress beacon lulled them into a slumber, a place of night terrors that left them sweaty and their throat sore from the screams that’d tear from it.
Sleep was never consistent. There is no knowledge of time alone and in the dark, not with the computer unable to run. Surviving off of instincts and nothing more, that is how they lived now and until the end of this life.
When they opened their eyes next, it was dark.
Slowly pushing themselves up, they realize they had fallen over. Their shoulder hurt.
They stand on shaky legs, sighing, the urge to eat taking over.
They hadn’t spoken in months. Their throat would be sore if they tried. And although they deserve to suffer, they couldn’t bring themself to try.
As far as they can remember, they weren’t much of a talker before, but now? It was laughable at how pathetic they were, not a single word leaving their chapped lips: only whimpers and sighs and incomprehensible mummers.
They wish they had told Mark that they were sorry. That they were doing everything they could to fix this.
Entering the storage room, they feel realization wash over them. The captain breaths in; perhaps it is time to restart.
…Had they suffered enough to justify going back? To go back and fix the mistakes they made, to prevent the death and destruction they caused?
They closed their eyes and nodded their head.
The captain heads to the medical section of the storage room, their feet dragging across the ground with despair in the air. They long memorized the entirety of all the storage rooms they had
They reach for a medicine to help with pain, the name they can’t recognize, and open it with trembling hands.
The captain tenses, their hands barely getting the cap off.
Why were they afraid?
It wasn’t the first time the captain had…
They shook their head at the thoughts. It was not the time to think about that.
The captain drops the cap, pouring the pills into the palm of their hand. There was no point in counting, they just needed enough.
The heavy pain in their chest grows as they prepare themself.
They drop the bottle, leaving the storage room. The room was suffocating. The captain wiped the tears that they managed to cry.
Stepping into the hall, they slowly make their way to the bridge. It had almost felt like the normal that they gradually developed... If not for the gnawing in the back of their head.
It was cold and so lonely. They stared into the room, watching the beacon light up the bridge in intervals, forcing their breathing to match it.
Even with the unbearable pain in their heart, they smiled.
Staring at Mark's cryo-pod, the captain reads the sticky notes they had stuck onto the outside of it. It was little reminders, calling him a sleepy-head and various affectionate pet names.
It was quite the collection the captain had. They shook their head at their own naivety; Mark wouldn’t wake up.
No matter how many sticky notes they wrote or how much they wanted him to. He could still hate them. They just needed his companionship. A chance at what once was. To apologize for everything.
All the captain wanted was to have what they had long before boarding the Invincible II, even if it was something they’d never get the ability to have again.
Gently, they sat beside his cryo-pod, pulling their knees to their chest and resting their head against the cold glass.
The captain knew that the next time they woke up, it would be back to the running. The never-ending chase to stop this paradox.
Maybe this time, they will be able to resolve it.