How much is it better to light a candle than to cower in the darkness?
- Writings of the Sol Empress, Words of Faith
[Celeste]
Dazed, Celeste's mind swirled. Random thoughts and emotions popped in and out of a vague consciousness, past or present she could not determine. She mentally snatched at them to ground herself to some kind of reality, anything. But they were too fleeting, like trying to grasp mist. Her eyes fluttered open but refused to focus.
Lightning. I remember lightning. Was that real?
Images came of dancing blue-white sparks. Twisting and slashing about, they clawed but left her unscathed. And then the violent shaking that yanked her back in the chair. A single clap of crashing thunder sounded, but not from the lightning. Then darkness.
And now, no sound other than her breath and pounding heart. Her eyes began to focus.
Where am I?
The display panels before her stood dark and silent. A single lighting strip above provided only dim illumination. She noticed the black bag cradled in her arms.
This is important somehow.
Although buckled into a tall back chair, she felt no weight. Small objects floated lazily in the air and her long hair billowed out in all directions. She watched a food tray rotate as it slowly passed before her, the one she had given to Moon...
Celeste's head snapped toward the empty captain's chair beside her. Recent memories crashed back into her mind. She shouted out, "Moon!"
Celeste flung back restraints and stood up, but her feet did not touch the floor. After securing the strap of the black duffle bag to the chair, she propelled herself across the bridge, utilizing past weightless training required for long interstellar voyages.
She skimmed the walls of the nearly dark passageway as if swimming in the air, periodically touching the rails along the ceiling as a guide. Her long wrap-skirt flared out around her legs and floated up in front of her face. She untied it and left it floating.
Celeste frowned. Oh, great. Moon is going to see me in my underwear again.
After descending to a lower deck, she came to the forward docking hatch. She pushed her dark hair away from her eyes and peered through the small hatch window. Within his gray spacesuit, Moon floated in the inner chamber, his arms and legs outstretched. Through his visor, she could see that his eyes were closed. With the outer hatch still open, so he floated within the vacuum of space.
Touching a com button, Celeste called out, "Moon, can you hear me?" No answer or movement. She pounded on the button and pleaded, "Please, Moon..."
She called out, "Sai, are you there? Sai?" Only silence answered her.
A foreboding fear twisted Celeste's gut. Please be okay, Moon.
Celeste examined the docking hatch control panel. Small lights still blinked on it. With a touch of a button, the outer hatch slowly swung closed. She let out a sigh of relief. Fortunately, the docking port had an independent power system that still functioned.
Her fingers drummed. She murmured, "Come on, come on...", while the hatch sealed, and the chamber pressurized.
At last, the servo-motors swung the inner hatch open with a whir. Once enough of a gap, she flew through the opening and wrapped her arms around Moon. Unlatching his helmet, she flung it aside, letting it bounce around off the walls. Two fingertips against his neck brought a small smile and a sigh of relief. She leaned forward, letting the moist warmth of his slow breath tickle her cheek.
She blew out her own held breath and whispered, "Let's get you out of here."
*****
Celeste sat cross-legged with hands extended, palms up. It felt odd, although a bit exhilarating, to levitate while meditating, although she needed to keep her eyes open so as not to bump into the ceiling or any of the wall cabinets in the zero gravity.
Moon laid unconscious before her, strapped down on the narrow medical bay bed lest he float away. She watched as his bare chest gently rose and fell. The bruises and contusions would likely be painful when he woke up. He seemed so peaceful now, especially with the lack of his annoyingly irreverent attitude.
But he saved my life and the cause I serve.
Moon's bushy sandy-brown hair and the growth of whiskers on his face were consistent with a stated dislike of military regimen, as was his aversion to structure and rule-following. His face was pleasant, oval shaped but with a firm jawline. Shallow dimples hinted of underlying mischief. Calloused hands suggested he was not averse to manual work, and a few scars scattered across his body spoke of past misadventures. Moderately tall with a muscular frame, although not bulky, he would turn the eyes of most women.
He is a fine physical specimen.
Moon's eyelids fluttered, and he turned his head. A slight moan escaped his lips. His eyes tracked to Celeste, who floated cross legged, peering down from above. "I take it the grav system is down."
She nodded. "As is most every system on the ship. I think we had a total power failure."
"Not surprising. A nuclear weapon detonation generates one hell of an electromagnetic pulse. Probably blew every fuse in the ship."
"That explains the electrical discharges I saw." She hooked her foot in the bed frame and pulled herself down beside him. "How are you feeling, Moon?"
"Like I was rode hard and put away wet. My ribs hurt." He groaned, placing a hand on his head. "And this headache is worse than any hangover I've ever had." His eyebrows lifted, and he grinned. "You took off your skirt again. Just can't stay dressed around me?"
She huffed. "Skirts don't work well in weightlessness. Besides your normal delusions, you may have a brain injury. Let me give you something for the pain." She drifted over to a medicine cabinet and rummaged through it, finding a preloaded injector syringe containing medicines specifically to treat traumatic head injuries.
Moon's eyes widened, and some color drained from his face. "Umm, are you going to give me a shot?"
"Yes. Don't worry, I've had emergency medical training. You will be okay." She dabbed an antiseptic on his arm.
"I don't like shots..."
Celeste drew close and gazed into moss-green eyes. "Moon, thank you for saving my life. I know I forced this situation on you, but I want you to know I am grateful. What you did served a cause greater than both of us."
"Umm, sure. But I was saving my skin too." He took a big breath and steeled his jaw. "Okay, I'm ready for the shot."
"I already gave it to you."
Moon's jaw dropped. "Huh?"
She grinned. "Sometimes distraction is the key to healthcare."
He shook his head. "Is there anything you didn't learn in Priestess school?"
"For one thing, they didn't teach me how to repair a broken starship. I still need you for that."
"Well, I'm glad to still be useful. Better get to it." He pushed up with his elbows, but his torso didn't move. "Except that you've got me strapped down."
Celeste pushed his head back down. "Oh, no you don't. Rest some more. You may have a concussion." She took a juice-drink pouch out of the chiller and placed nozzle against his lips. "Here, drink this."
He drained the pouch. "I was thirsty. Thanks." Lifting his eyebrows, he said, "An ale would be good..."
She shook her head. "Not with a possible concussion. Not with the medicine I gave you. And not at zero gravity. Sooo... No!"
"That's mean. I'd get one myself, but you've still got me tied down."
"Exactly."
"I think the happy juice you injected is taking effect." Moon's eyes glazed over, and his head wavered. "You know, Celeste, for a Priestess you have a nice arse."
She smirked. "I'm going to assume that comment came because of the medicine side-effects. But thanks for the compliment, anyway."
She covered him with a white blanket, tucking it under the straps that held him down. "Good night, Moon."
Moon slurred his words as his eyes closed. "Good night, Priestess--"