This Long Vigil (A Short Story) (3 page)

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Authors: Rhett Bruno

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I gritted my teeth and fought my reservations as I pulled
myself toward the hatch. Once there, I used the tools contained in a pouch
connected to the suit to remove the cover of the keypad. I began fiddling with
the wires inside until the inner airlock hatch popped open with a snap-hiss.
Red lights started to flash and an emergency alarm wailed.

“Please restore operation of the central airlock,” Dan said,
politely as ever. “Manual override is not authorized.”

I didn’t respond. Instead, I lifted the helmet over my head
and stepped forward into the cramped airlock.

“Orion, you are not acting rationally,” Dan continued. “I
would advise you return to your quarters and try to rest. Perhaps you are in
need of feeding?”

As the helmet sealed there was a whistle, and then silence.
“Forgive me, Dan,” I mouthed. I patted the smooth surface of the ship’s metal
interior as if it were his body. “But I’ve made my selection. My vigil is over.
Now it’s time for me to live.”

Before he could answer I switched off the helmet’s built-in
radio.

I clipped the ship’s tether to the belt of my suit. Then I
sliced through more controls, signaling the confined space to depressurize.
Once the process was completed the inner seal slammed shut and the outer seal
popped open. I drew myself slowly into the opening.

Stars shone by the thousands in front of me, filling the
entirety of my visor as they were mirrored twice over by the glass. For the
first time in years I couldn’t perceive the continuous hum of the
Hermes’
many
systems. The only thing I could hear was my own hastened breathing. I exhaled
slowly and sidled out until I could grab onto the hull of the ship.

“Here we go,” I said to myself. I climbed along the bridge
connecting to the engine until I found a familiar nook between it and the
Living Ring. The tiny viewport there had a view of my bed. I positioned myself
as comfortably as I could get before gazing out over
Hermes
.

The sight was enough to make me smile. The vastness of the
cosmos may have been a hard reminder of how much there was which I would never
see, but it was as striking in its enormity as I’d expected—an endless sea of
blackness teaming with life I had no doubt was there.

Suddenly, a blinding sliver of orange-hued light reflected
off of the Conservatory’s exterior, causing me to fall to the side and
accidentally allow some of my suit’s tools to come loose. They began to drift
away, and I frantically stretched out my arm to grab them. As I did the
ever-rotating Living Ring exposed me to the source of the light. It was the
star, Alpha Centauri B. Without the viewport in its way it was even grander and
brighter.

The Living Ring continued to rotate toward the light,
heating up my body even through the suit. The tools were floated beyond the
reach of my tether, like shards of diamonds bathing in the alien brightness. I
stared until I had to blink away the stinging sensation in my eyes.

“Orion. Orion, can you hear me?”

For a second I looked around, alarmed, before realizing that
the familiar voice was coming from inside of my helmet. Dan had overridden the
radio controls and switched it back on.

“Yes ... I can,” I said.

“What are you—”

“Dan, it’s incredible out here!”

“You are in danger, Orion.”

Dan took control and my tether began to reel me back in. It
yanked me forcefully, causing my leg to smack against the ship’s metal surface.
Somehow as I tumbled away I managed to grab onto the surface of the ship. I
jammed the tether in between a pair of shielding plates and gathered my
balance.

“I’m not going back,” I decided. I angled my head so that I
could study the reflection of Alpha Centauri B in my visor. The arms of its
light reached out toward me as if to take me in their embrace.

“That is not an option,” Dan replied. “In nine hundred
seventy-two minutes I am required to see you back into Life-Chamber 1287.”

“I know but I just ... I can't do it. I wish I could, for
you, I really do, but I won’t die dreaming. After seeing all of this, how could
I ever go back to sleep?

“It is your directive.”

“It was.”

“There must always be one thousand inhabitants aboard the
Hermes. Never more. Never less.”

“And there will be again soon. You’ll make sure of that like
you always do. I don’t know many things for sure, Dan, but I think that men are
meant to be born in liquid, not die in it.”

I glanced down, noticing that my tether was about to pull
itself free. I rifled through what was left of the tools and found a cutting
torch. With my arm outstretched I swung myself in a wide arc around the area
where it was stuck so I could get a proper angle.

“Orion, please allow me to help you return to the
Hermes
.
As the active Monitor, your continued health is imperative.”

I switched on the torch and started cutting through the
tether.

“You’ve helped me more than you know. I hope you’ll be
equally as helpful to Inhabitant 2781. She’ll have plenty of questions.”

“Orion, what are you doing. If you sever your connection you
will expend your oxygen supply in approximately fifteen minutes.”

“She’ll want to know what Earth was like.” The tether was
inches away from snapping. I paused for a moment and stared down at it, verging
on tears. “She’ll want to struggle with your riddles.”

The tether snapped. The length of it was tugged back toward
the open airlock and the recoil sent me hurtling through space in the opposite
direction.

“Orion, your connection has been lost,” Dan said.

I didn’t panic. I was too busy smiling at the thought of
hearing his puzzles. It didn’t take long for the
Hermes
to
begin distancing itself from me. For once, I could see its entire outline; from
the bulge of the Living Ring to the two aligned engines sticking out like an
outstretched arm.

“Goodbye, Dan. I’ll miss our talks,” I continued.

“Orion ... you ... are ...” Dan’s voice spoke, but whatever
he said next was muddled by static.

I should’ve been more terrified then I was, drifting through
the endless void all by myself. It was hard to be when the view was so
incredible. It took some effort to turn my head as I spun head over foot, but
once I did I saw Alpha Centauri B again, piercing the blackness. Passing across
it was a small, brownish orb growing larger by the second. The first planet I
ever saw with my eyes—Luxar. I was headed straight for it.

“Do you think they’ll ever send anyone here?” I asked the
silence, so used to always being answered right away. Dan said nothing.
The
Hermes
was already out of sight and even if he wanted to
he couldn’t have turned it around in time to save me. The oxygen meter in my
helmet had already begun to beep that it was dangerously low.

I tried to tune out the noise and focus on the advancing
planet. It was ... magnificent. And as I stared I had no doubt that I was right
where I belonged. After glimpsing the infinite universe which lay beyond
the
Hermes’
metal walls, I couldn’t end my life sealed in a
chamber. My long sleep was approaching. The one
I
had chosen.

I could hear Dan speaking in my head, reciting a riddle he’d
told me a few years back that I was never able to solve. “What grows both
longer and shorter with each passing minute,” he’d said. “The young take risks
with it, and the old cherish it.”

I didn’t get it at the time, but I finally understood.

About the Author

Rhett Bruno has been writing since before he can remember,
scribbling down what he thought were epic stories when he was young to show to
his friends and family. He currently works at an Architecture firm, but that
hasn't stopped him from recording the tales bouncing around inside of his head.
Rhett is the author of
The Circuit Series
and
Titanborn
.
He's happy to hear from his fans and can be
reached at
[email protected]
.