The Sea We Call Space

"If anyone can hear me," Laura spoke into the comms, "this is Laura Lancaster of the Minerva. I am stranded in a shuttle outside the orbit of the planet Quova. I have crewmates stranded on the planet's surface and we need help. I repeat, we need help. If anyone hears this, please..."

She ended the transmission and stared at the comms with withering hope. This was the fifth transmission she'd sent out since the Minerva blew up...how many days ago? She'd lost track at this point. The comms receptor light lit up and she answered immediately.

"Laura? Have you gotten any response yet?"

Laura's heart sank as she sank to the floor. "No, no I haven't." Her husband had responded, as he always did when she sent out a transmission. Not like he could do much to help. Larry and his crew were as stranded as she was, except they were on the surface of the desolate unexplored planet of Quova that they'd been contracted to explore. His crew's shuttle had been wrecked by the raining debris of the Minerva from space. Luckily, they had escaped the fire shower, relocating to an uncharted section of the planet, but it meant they lost so many supplies and out-of-sector communication. It wasn't all bad for them though; while they strived off the fruits of the world, she struggled to swallow tasteless rations aboard her smaller escape craft.

Larry did his best to keep her company, talking about everything and nothing. It was better than the silence; the static of the intercom could be maddening. It was all he could do for her, and sometimes she hated him for it. Never mind that he was miles away, never mind that he was trying to stay in touch. He had others to keep him company when the connection got cut; she had the dead silent sea of space and the corpse crew of the Minerva swimming in it.

Then one day he wasn't there. Laura called for him through the comms, but she got no response. She screamed his name but got only static. She felt tears swell in her eyes and she wiped them away furiously. Maybe he was just asleep, or out of the encampment. Maybe there was an accident, and he was injured and bleeding out. Maybe he was dying.

The sudden heat rush around her dazed her, but her arms trembled as if in a terrible winter. She hugged herself desperately, breathing heavily as her heart pounded in her chest. "He's alright," she found herself saying repeatedly. "He'll call back. He'll come back. He won't abandon me. Not again." She curled onto the floor, thankfully because there was a sudden knock on the ship's window. She knew what it was and was grateful she didn't have the strength to acknowledge them. She wondered who it was this time, whose cold corpse had drifted to the window to say hello and curse her for living when they didn't.

...

She woke up damp with sweat, her breathing labored and a new pain in her arm from sleeping on it. Groaning, she rose from the floor and dared to glance towards the dashboard and the window that looked over it. Her visitor was gone now and she thanked her God for that. She has seen enough of what resembled her crew mates now drifting as bloated husks. She caught a glare of the intercom lights blink aggressively, and she almost flung herself against the dashboard to answer it.

"Larry?" she cried.

"No, this is Jason." One of Larry's crewmates on Quova.

"Oh," Laura muttered. "Where's Larry?"

Jason paused. "Laura, there's something I have to tell you."

Laura braced herself for the worst as Jason spoke, then felt her world spin as he concluded. She stood silently staring into space as the exoplanet her husband was on, her thoughts racing but her heart surprisingly calm. She remained absent as a tussle erupted through the coms, only snapping back when her husband's voice came through.