A Voyage of Finality

Samantha Starview slumped at the controls of her Cruiser and starred out at the void beyond. The ship was on auto, bleeping rhythmically to inform the pilot that its course remained true. Sam ignored the staccato tune, her mind elsewhere; the bridge, the day of the downpour, that family who chose to step into the path of her vehicle without thinking to look. Sam wiped away a single tear, her mind had become a dark place since that day, since she had decided to switch the hatchback to manual drive, cocky and confident in thinking a little storm was no match for her reflexes.

“I need a drink,” she growled, aloud, regardless of the fact that she was alone on the ship.

The auto pilot continued to beep, showing Starview’s destination to only be a week away. Sam sighed, prized herself free from the pilot’s chair and approached the airlock doors.

Three chambers later and a blast of pure oxygen and Sam stood in the large galley kitchen mixing a coffee. From the very bottom draw of one of twelve sets of four she pulled out an unmarked clear bottle containing a brown sludge. Looking at the level of liquid she frowned.

“I haven’t drunk that much, have I?” she wondered.

As she uncorked the bottle and began to pour, Sam tapped her foot. The sludge meandered at its own pace toward the neck of the bottle. Captain Starview gave the bottle a thump to encourage the liquid’s progress. Finally a dollop leapt from the bottle and landed like a belly flop into the chipped mug. Satisfied Sam recorked the vessel and threw it back into the bottom draw. It clinked as it rolled around and bumped five other bottles; all but the final were empty. With a silver spoon the pilot gave her concoction a swift agitation. Licking the dribbles Sam haphazardly returned the utensil to the draw.

The steaming cup was half consumed by the time Sam returned to the pilot seat. She sipped as her eyes returned to the stars and the blackness of the world beyond the ship. There was a tune which blurted from the console before the blackened void was replaced with a room of smiling uniforms.

“Captain Samantha Jane Starview,” began the oldest figure Sam could see. “How goes it?”

“General Michealson!” Starview exclaimed.

Immediately she sat up straighter and searched for somewhere she could hide her cup.

“Be more… Unicorn?” the General mumbled, his eyes clouding with uncertainty. “Is that some of OUR merchandise?”

“Ah, yes sir,” replied another uniform, one Sam did not recognize. “Part of our mythical creature range of cups, plates and bowls, General Sir.”

Another uniform, General Kane Wentworth continued.

“You see George, we were hoping for a slice of the pocket money marketplace.”

“Sure Kane, go on,” replied General Michaelson.

“A short lived stint… Not worthy of our time we discovered…” General Wentworth tapered off.

“I still fail to see how flying ponies and rainbow manes have anything to do with…”

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Sirs?” asked Samantha, eager to get back to her drink while it was still hot.

“You’re off course, pilot!” blurted General Michaelson.

“Impossible!” spat back Sam.

The look she witnessed on all of those official faces made Starview suddenly think twice.

“Impossible, Sir?” she hurriedly added.

“Why pilot, explain to us why this could be impossible?” General Wentworth rumbled.

“I have been three years now on auto pilot… THREE years of listening to a constant bleep each and every twenty seconds with nothing but… well… nothing to look at…” stammered the pilot.

“Hmmm…” grunted both Generals together.

“Even only a minute ago your machines still assaulted my hearing with that insistent tone,” continued Samantha. “So that is why I too am so adamant there can be no error.”

At that moment Starview noted uncomfortably the sever lack of rhythmic tone.

“Generals, Sirs, if you’ll please excuse me…” the pilot murmured. “I believe I might need to actually pilot this ship.”

As the figures vanished, the call concluded, Samantha narrowed her icy blue eyes and scrutinized all the flashing lights. A map of constellations showed the path the cruiser crawled along and showed evidence of just how minutely she had veered off course. Captain Starview was experienced with space flight and realized quickly that such a bulky ship traveling through space would need time to correct its course. After three years of wondering when it would all end, Samantha finally discovered why she had been chosen for this journey. Clutching the joystick with both hands to steady her actions the pilot regretted all of those empty bottles of under the counter spirits and the generous serving she had mixed with her cup of joe that still steamed beside the chair in which she sat. A little tweak, a twist of the controller a millimeter left, a slight pressure upward, Samantha found the spot where ship and path met once more. For the remainder of the day and most of the next the pilot’s steady determination finally put the journey back on track. Drenched in sweat and very happy to hear that steady bleep begin again Starview reached back to retrieve her cup.

“To all unicorns,” she saluted. The coffee was cold but Samantha drank it up like it was champagne.

For the remainder of the journey what remained of the brown sludge remained in that bottom draw. Demons continued to haunt, sleep continued to evade, but Captain Starview was tenacious in her steadfast determination to complete the mission.

As the Sun came in to view Sam knew she did not have long to go. Maybe in a day, perhaps two at the most she would finally end her voyage. Soon she would pilot the cruiser into that blazing ball of heat and gas. NASA would discover why the star was dying and how long it was going to last. And Sam strongly believed she would finally get the chance to meet that family she had killed all those years ago and face to face tell them exactly how sorry she was. That was what drove Sam on this final journey, closure.