Titans

The Genesis [137:15]

Location: The Hermes Starship

Atara, Lilith and I sit on the couches in silence, reading. Across from me, Lilith pretends to be interested in something she picked from the library – The History of Interstellar Travel – while I pretend to be just as absorbed by my own book. It’s more of a manual really, instructing its reader on how operate starships at the most basic level. I figured it was a start.

Every now and then, I raise my eyes over the crest of the book and take a look at the two girls, most specifically Lilith. She has her dark brown hair pulled back into a tight ponytail – if you can call it that. Her hair is so short that the front sections have already fallen out. They act like a curtain for her face every time she looks down, and every time, she tucks them away behind her ears. Completely at ease. As if the girl she shot isn’t sitting directly beside her.

Similarly, I feel her looking up at me. Sometimes I catch her, and when I do, I see bold blue eyes, daring me to say something, daring me to let out the words that would shatter the peace. I half-watch as she tears a scrap out of her book and scrawls something across it, casually spinning it round and holding it to the front cover where I can see it.

Are you going to tell her?

Since waking, we’ve learned that Atara has no recollection of being shot. I’m still not completely certain whether it’s a blessing or a problem. Lilith, clearly, believes the former.

I mimic her actions, tearing out a section of my own book and spinning it round to show her.

I don’t think so.

She replies quickly. Why?

Not a good idea atm.

I look over at Atara. Oblivious to our interactions, she has her head burrowed deep in a book, the title – Stars and Other Galactic Obstacles – across the front in gold lettering. Even at this angle, I can see the dark circles under her eyes. “I don’t sleep well,” she tells everyone. “I’m not used to the bed.”

But I know better – my room is closest to hers on the ship. And at night, I hear soft protests, cries of fear, coming from her room. Nightmares.

I cough.

And then the ship grumbles, engines growling, metal squealing in protest. Lilith sighs and puts down her book. “Is he going to be doing that all morning?”

I look up. “Define morning.”

She rolls her eyes. “Ha ha. Funny.” Her gaze drifts to the hall. “It’s making me nervous.”

I have to agree with her there. Trying to read on a spaceship hanging precariously over a canyon is hard enough. Trying to read on a spaceship, that while hanging, is also squealing and grumbling, as if it’s on the verge of falling, is even harder. I close my book. “Maybe I should go check on him, make sure everything’s good.”

“Good idea,” Lilith says.

Just as I go to stand however, Cal emerges from the hall, a thin sheen of sweat coating his skin. He comes to stand before us, looking tired.

“Well?” Lilith asks.

A breath escapes his lips. “I have good news and bad news.”

I speak quickly. “Good news first.”

He nods. “Fair enough. Good news is – the engines are fixed and working fine.”

An audible sigh of relief passes around the room. We’re not going to die after all. Across from me, Atara has put down her book. She bites her lower lip, looking anxiously to Cal, as if we haven’t just been told it’s all going to be okay.

I turn to him. “Wait – if the engines are working fine, then what was all that squealing?”

Cal swallows. “That’s the bad news. While…sinking, the ship seems to have lodged itself in the wall of the abyss, that or the rock has shifted around it. When I try to move the ship, it rubs against the rock, creating that squealing you’ve been hearing. The problem is, I can’t get the ship free of it.”

“So you’re saying we’re stuck?” It’s the first thing Atara’s said all day. Everyone’s gaze swivels towards her. She pretends not to notice, but I can tell she dislikes the attention.

Cal looks uneasy. “In theory? Yes. If we try to fly up, some core part of the ship will most likely snap off, causing us to fly down. It’s unavoidable.”

Lilith groans, collapsing back onto the couch. “We’re screwed,” she says.

And for the second time this day, I agree with her.