Waypoint

Other Voices

It started out like any other day.

I awoke half numb on the floor, barely able to function, but enough to slap on a smile and melt into the cockpit chair. Then, I booted up every system.

Artillery, life support, propulsion, and communication systems were all green, and after some chatting with FTARI, we concluded that today would be nothing but searching, endlessly searching for signals.

Specifically signals that are hopefully from creatures like me.

You see, ever since I can last remember, I've just been here. Sometimes, I feel lost and somewhat wrong. It feels like something is driving me.

Honestly, it isn't very clear even to me.

I don't know what, how, and most importantly, why I am.

After I came to that conclusion, I have dedicated the rest of my time to finding other things like me. Hopefully for some answers, and maybe even a home...

Anyway, I picked the safest celestial body close to me and sat back for the automated landing systems to do their thing, but damn was it nasty.

Rain droplets slammed onto my windows to the point where I didn't think it would hold, and I wasn't big on the idea of checking if this planet had oxygen if I didn't need to. Eventually, it got so windy to the point where I had to suck it up and take manual control over the whole landing situation.

My craft swayed back and forth through the wind.

My breathing rate increased with each second as I tried to focus behind the constant fog that covered the entire surface area in front of me—keeping an eye on the screen that would blink specific colors in certain situations.

It would stay gray if I still had yet to touch the surface, green if one or more of my landing legs had made contact with the ground, and blaring red if I was beginning to tip over.

But the soothing sound of my onboard systems calmed me down just enough. The random beeps and chatter through my comms radio, the whirring of the computer, and the humming of the lights. I closed my eyes and let my body take over.

Before I could open them, the screen flickers green, so I immediately shut off all engines and prepared for the heavy but satisfying *thud*

"Touchdown!" I sarcastically announced. After that, I quickly shuffled my chair across the 90-foot-wide cabin over to my communications corner. I turned the small and dusty knobs to a certain degree where I could hear crystal clear voices, then leaned back for a few minutes and focused my hearing on the voices coming through the radio. It was primarily creatures bargaining, getting arrested, organizing illegal deals, or chatting up a good evening.

But then, the voices from the radio started to rapidly change in tone and speed, they became utterly distorted. I immediately turned toward FTARI with a sense of hope, is it happening?

"A new signal is attempting to take over. Although weak, it is nothing like we've ever caught before." FTARI announced.

In a matter of seconds, I darted back towards my chair.

I ordered FTARI to lock onto the signal, nevertheless nothing but static came through.

It was damned—a concussion for nothing. I sat for another few minutes before I sprang up with an idea. It could end up in a total shutdown of my craft, but in my chest, it felt much like the right thing to do.

I speedily shuffled my chair back towards the computer screens that I regularly used to shut systems on/off, and commanded FTARI.

"When I say go, push the limits of the radar antenna and try your best to grab onto the signal., got it?" My tone is heavy and severe.

"But won't that disintegrate all internal systems?"

"Not if I turn all of them off"

FTARI, also realizing that this was a lethal decision, took a second to reply.

"Ready when you are."

So, I swiped left on every integrated system all at once, turning red as they disappeared off the screen.

"Ready!" I shouted.

My craft began to shake violently, but I persevered back over to the radio and leaned in closer, trying to pick out anything I could.

It felt as if hours went by at a time. So long, I completely forgot about the growing tension.

My craft could be at least a minute from blowing up, but I still waited—Until three understandable words climbed through the speakers. "Save us.... Anom-...." Then, back to silence.

That's when the thought of spending all my new credits toward a new craft scraped my mind.

"WARNING," FTARI blared. "WARNING, All INTEGRATED SYSTEMS ARE SIGNIFICANTLY OVERHEATED. PLEASE ACT QUICKLY." And so I did. I quite literally jumped toward the emergency lever on the wall across the cabin and struck it down before the entire craft turned dark, lifeless. Gravity then pulled me to the floor.

I stayed lifeless on the ground, sucking in the pain from my newly given broken nose as FTARI flicked the lights back on and the fans went back to whirring. Could I have heard more if it weren't for the lethal landscape outside interfering with the signals?

I'll find out.

Hours later, right before it was almost time to fall back asleep, FTARI came back on. We both found out it wasn't the weather outside at all, it was the crappy, almost decade-old antenna that I had just power surged to grab onto a signal thousands of light-years away.

Yeah, it was toast.

So, tomorrow, we work on finding the right field station with the right parts, install the new antenna, and find out where this signal is coming from.