Into the Black Hole

Chapter 7: Olbers' Paradox

I nearly miss the Martian warship as it zooms by, but the glint off its metal from the distant Sun is enough to give it away. My eyes follow it out the front window—just reinforced see-through glass now that the touchscreens have been deactivated—until the ship becomes a pinpoint then disappears entirely.

We've stopped accelerating. Microgravity, the sensation of zero gravity, sets in, and I feel blood trickle into my head. My limbs start to float, and the only thing keeping me grounded is my seatbelt. Although we're not speeding up any more, we are still traveling expeditiously away from Mars, somewhere around forty-seven thousand meters per second if my mental math is correct.

"They're gone," I say to Timour. All I see is an outline of his body; the rest is covered by the shadows of space. "Why did they simply leave?"

He shakes his head then takes off his helmet. "I can't hear you," he states, his voice muffled by my own helmet. That's strange. Either he muted us from each other before, or the blackout interfered with our microphones. I take my helmet off and repeat the question, the ends of my ponytail splaying around my head.

"They know we're done for," he responds, voice tight. "Besides, we're unlikely to be their main target."

"Plato," I state numbly.

"Or maybe they're after the item we took and have a reason to believe one of our bigger dropships has it," Timour provides. "Maybe their leader called them in."

The silence is deafening. "I can't hear them anymore," I say. "Admiral Chambers, do you copy?"

Nothing.

"Warship destroyed our comms," explains Timour. "This is the problem with having everything run electronically."

"How is that possible? They didn't hit us."

"I don't know," he replies, but I get the feeling he does know and isn't willing to share.

"I'm going to go check the main battery," I declare, unbuckling my seat belt. He doesn't say anything as I float above my chair and toward the back of the ship, using the handlebars along the wall to move. I pass a rear window on the way there and stop for a moment to take in the view. A crescent of Mars sits in the distance while the rest of it is as black as its surroundings; the Sun appears tiny next to the planet, although it's only an illusion due to how much farther away the Sun is. We only left Mars minutes ago.

I move away from the window and further into the back room, hook my toes under the footholds to stay upright, and run my hands along the wall until I find what I'm looking for. I feel a smooth indent, and I hold down a latch on the inner handle in order to pull the compartment open. Inside is an emergency survival kit that I open carefully, trying to keep all the contents from floating out. I reach my hand in and grab a flashlight.

"I'll hold the bag."

I metaphorically jump and turn to my right, where the outline of Timour is waiting, his hand stretched out expectantly. "Oh my god, you scared me!" I whisper-shout. Closing the survival kit, I give it to him.

"Were you expecting an alien?"

"I'm starting to think you are one," I quip. I'll worry about his secrets later.

"At least I'm a friendly alien," he states.

As if! There are only two outcomes to coming into contact with aliens in the future; genocide for the aliens, or genocide for us humans.

"I provide light for the damsel in distress," he continues and pulls something out of the survival kit. A crunching sound is followed by glowing light. The two thick glow sticks brighten as he waves them back and forth quickly a few times. I'm happy to be able to see his face again.