Entropy
Stars sparkle across the windows. They were supposed to. That’s what stars are for. Or, that is often the opinion of those who look at them. Several people stand along the Star Observatory railing in the Honkai, a new liner, just come out of testing. Not many ships were built with these sort of accommodations anymore. Most settled for enhanced displays, cameras feeding from the outside of the hull to wherever the residents of the ship wanted to lounge showing fields of stars in hi res holograms or great domes of rooms. But something drew people to these large, plasteel bubbles along the ships hull. Something about the etherealness of barely filtered space. You had to have some shielding or the radiation would cut your observation short, but knowing it was only few sheets of material that separated you from eternity gave some people a thrill.
S’verin Brown was not one of those people. He waited in the hall outside the observation room. John, his partner, loved looking through the window. He was one of the star counters, the stellar voyeurs. S’verin hated space. While everyone else wondered at the marvel of the little specks of light dotted across their vision, he only saw the immensity of the blackness around it all. There was so much nothing, so very much darkness. Didn’t they see it? Couldn’t they see how futile it was for the stars to fight against it? Titanic spheres of fusion could only keep the infinite blankness of entrophy from claiming them for a time, but even they would succumb to the void.
“That was marvelous.” John stepped into the hall, sidling up next to S’verin and gently taking his hand. John was always gentle. That was one of the things that S’verin found so attractive about him. He smiled, squeezing the dark hand as they walked toward the restaurant circle toward the center of the ship. “I’m glad you liked it.”
“I wish you did.” He returned the squeeze. “Thanks for coming anyway.”
S’verin smiles, fighting a shiver as the memory of the one time he had been convinced to stare entropy in the space. “Thanks for understanding.”
“Sure.” John pulls S’verin into one of the slides, sort of elevators that traveled diagonally from the center of the ship to the edge. “So what do you want for dinner?”
Light conversation drifts between them as they ride the slide. They exit, walking down the companionway between other groups, doors opening to their I.D. Gestures as they pass through the ship sections. John’s face twists in disdain as he glances at the clock along the wall, trying to figure out which meal to expect. “I wish the ship wasn’t set to Earth Standard. They serve breakfast when I want dinner. Look, it’s almost midnight on earth and it feels like lunchtime.”
S’verin shakes his head, grinning. “They have to set it to something. There still isn’t a galactic standard time, despite the push for legislation. And so what if we have pancakes for dinner? Food doesn’t know what time it is.”
He laughs as John grumbles about wanting a burrito for dinner. They pass others coming from the middle of the ship. They waddle happily, their own conversation drifting lazily through the corridor. Everyone seemed at ease, pleased with the new ship’s progress. Faster than the normal liner, the Honkai had made excellent time to each of it’s warp points. This meant they would have more time on Beatleguese 4 with their families. Other than a couple relatives visiting them they hadn’t seen either family in a few years. They had an itinerary planned out for visiting so they could see as many people as possible. It would be quite a whirlwind visit, but the extra time might let them spend a full day with both of their parents.
“Ope. Just turned midnight.” S’verin points to the clock on the wall.
“So?” John grumps, stuffing his free hand into his pocket.
“Some old tales tell of magic happening at midnight. It’s the ‘witching hour’.” He grins teasingly.
John rolls his eyes. “Please, as if someone still believed in magic in this day and age.” He flicks his hand up, palm open. “OoooOO… I’m summoning fire. Abracadab!”
They both jump back as his hand immediately catches fire, the flames flickering wickedly in the high concentration of oxygen of the ship air.
Then hit hits them that his arm is on fire.
John flails his arm, shouting for help. S’verin frantically looks for a Soda-bot. On of the little droids wheels forward quickly from it’s port, lights flashing red as it coats John in flame retardants and admonishments, putting out the flames.
“Are you injured, sir?” The faceless droid intones calmly, sprayer poised for more fire to appear.
“I’m… I’m fine.” John stares in bewilderment at his hand, unharmed, the skin dark and only a little dry, as it always was.
S’verin grabs it, pushing up the sleeve, searching for the source of the fire. He finds nothing unusual, no extra holographic projectors, no flamethrowers or other chemical fire starters that he knew of. “How?”
“I don’t know.” John watches in bewilderment. “I just…”
“Don’t do it again!” S’verin could feel panic edging his voice. He runs a hand through his hair, sweat slicking back the blond locks. “Was it a hologram? A projection?”
“No, I felt the fire, the heat.” Flexing his fingers, John slips into his deep thoughts, brow wrinkling aggressively. “It just came from nowhere.”
“That’s preposterous.” S’verin shakes his fists at his husband, his body trembling with suppressed adrenaline. “You were just saying it was impossible. Magic isn’t real.”
“It isn’t. But something happened. People don’t just spontaneously combust.” The wrinkles deepen in the dark skin. “Maybe someone had created a ball of gas and pushed it toward us, igniting it with a blast of infrared light. Fairly simple and, if done carefully, an amusing prank.”
“The void it is.” S’verin could feel himself shaking. “How can you make LIGHT of this?”
Balls of light appear in the air between them, little fist-sized spheres floating in mid air. They both stare at them in disbelief, their surfaces warping like tiny suns. Both stare in awe and disbelief at the illuminating apparitions, a couple stopping to stare as well, asking if it is some new hologram.
John shakes his head, weeping as he stares transfixed at these beautiful spheres. S’verin tears his eyes from the little lights, looks to the strangers, a young couple starting to become concerned for the strange men weeping in the companionway. “Could you, ah, try something for me? Just, hold out your hand and say ‘light’.”
The man recoils slightly, looking alarmingly between the two men. “What, why?”
“Please.” He stares into the young man’s eyes, holding them, trying to press his terrified pleading into them. “Try it. Something has happened and I need to know if I’m crazy.”
The couple exchange a concerned look and the young man holds up a hand, his voice quavering with uncertainty at the strange situation. “Light.”
The young man flinches as another set of triple suns erupt into existence. S’verin swings his hand closer, the little suns floating next to one another shedding light upon the startled, confused quartet.
The young man looks him in the eyes, pleading wordlessly for this to be a trick. S’verin shakes his head. “I don’t know what going on, but…”
Klaxon sound across the ship. The collision alarm. Then the captains voice cuts through the alarms, her normally stoic, reassuring tone shaken. “Passengers, I urge you to seek shelter. Secure yourselves in the nearest seat as quickly as possible. We’re, ah…” Her voice cracks as it fades off, a horrifying pause in the announcement. S’verin feels his heart beating like an abused tympani drum, hanging onto that uncertain tone by his fingernails. “We’re under attack. The void, it….” Chills run down his spine. “It seems to have solidified. There are... things around us.”
A rasping, dry breath over the speakers. “I think they’re trying to get in.”
There’s a sickening pop and a sudden sound of rushing wind before the speakers go silent, the klaxon buzzing horribly around them. S’verin feels the panic rise inside him, gaining pressure with every moment of silence that passes, a bubble filling his chest threatening to burst into a scream.
The lights flicker once. Twice. The darkness lingers. The emergency lights don’t come on. Only their six orbs keep the area around themsafe from the darkness. The small group in the light hear wimpering sounds from nearby, people scrambling for devices to light their way, people swearing, gasping. Flashes of dim light in the darkness beyond flickering on then suddenly off. S’verin feels his panic spiking, urging him to sprint, to flee, and freezing him in place simultaneously. The lights hovering above his hands.
John wraps his arms around S’verin, whispering in his ear. “Don’t focus on the dark, focus on the light. You have the light. You have the control.”
“It’s all around, John.” S’verin hisses. “Where are the emergency lights.” He wasn’t looking for the answer. He wanted the lights. He was demanding they return, that normality returns. He demanded that there
Be
Light.
His suns grow, but so does a tugging in his chest, a draw he hadn’t been aware of. Not painful, but he could feel it was drawing something out of him. Light ripples across the companionway, illuminating the walls, the carpet, the other couple.
A shadowy form.
The indeterminate shape looms over the young woman before dissipating silently into smoke before the light of his growing suns. The four of them scream, the young man thrusting his arms out as if trying to push away the shadow as it dissipates. One of his spheres flies down the companionway, illuminating and dissipating unwary shadows clogging the carpet, drifting over the piles of ash and augmentations, clothes littered around what were once other passengers.
S’verin suddenly feels light headed, the desire to run pounding through him at light speed. He fights it. Running would get him killed. Running would get them all killed. He had the light. These things didn’t seem to like light.
He looks at the young couple, trying desperately to ignore the void around them. “You, whats your names?”
“I’m Sheniah.” The woman says hastily. “He’s Mark. What’s going on?”
John swallows nervously. “Well, unless we’re all hallucinating, magic is real and those shadows want to kill us. I don’t suggest we let them.”
“What can we do?”
“We say ‘light’.” John summons his own miniature suns, one in each hand. “And we fight entropy. Just like every star does every day.”