Thrum

by Meg Smitherman

The crew of the Pioneer has been dead for a long time. I’m the only one left. We made it to our destination, and I’m the only one left.

There’s nothing I can do with the emotion that overtakes me in a swell, threatening to undo me. So I take a deep breath and pack it away, setting it aside for later. I can’t right now. I don't have the strength.

I’m drifting half out of the ship, half in, but even then it feels as if the infinite universe is reaching for me with inexorable fingers, with hands made of whorls of starlight, of depthless lightless chasms that hum like monsters of the cosmos. The air in my lungs feels like a dare. I’m challenging the firmament in its horrible power, and it is gazing right back at me, unimpressed.

Our knowledge is so minute, a tiny droplet in a vast sea that never ends, and we had the audacity to think we knew what we were getting into.

“Is your ship shielded?” I ask. “It is not shielded.” “Why can’t I see it?” “Your ship’s computer does not understand it. You would not understand it.” “That’s a big assumption.” “I read your welcome packet,” says Dorian. “It’s not an insult.”

“This ship doesn’t look that strange,” I murmur aloud, remembering Dorian’s words. “What’s not to understand?” “It’s practically unfathomable mathematics and physics,” a voice says, just behind me.

“Ami,” he says, my name supplicant on his lips. “I would never hurt you.”

He’s watching me with an almost overwhelming intensity, his unblinking black eyes framed by unnaturally long lashes, head tilted down slightly, as if he’s starving and I’m a meal.

My crew’s souls will find the way home, I think. God, if he exists, is with them now. God won’t abandon his children, no matter how far we stray from home. I think I almost believe it.

His voice is little more than a whisper. “I’m whatever you want me to be, Ami.”

“Ami,” he groans. “I’ve waited so long for you.” I don’t know what that means, and I don’t care. Maybe I’ve waited for him too. I came all this way, light-years and light-years, and I found him. Why shouldn’t I surrender to this?

But once I’m safely inside Pioneer, the door sealed closed behind me, Dorian’s voice caresses my brain. I hear him as clearly as if he’s standing right next to me, soft lips brushing my cheek. No matter how many times you try to go, you always come back.