Back on that red planet, the Captain settled on his second-most prized possession, the black unknown material of the chair perfectly molding to his hideous figure as he lay down with a deep groan of satisfaction.
The light in the tank in the corner of the room was still on, but the Captain paid the chronically-reading jellyfish no mind. Instead, he thought back to the eventful past few hours.
They had made it back up the abyss in one shape and, right before their very eyes, the two holes had closed up behind them. The strange black substance was still there but whatever had granted it that mind-bending property seemed to have been leeched away, leaving it entirely inert.
In fact, Captain Resquilatron had tried to remove some to take back with him, but judging by his fruitless efforts even an orbital laser would leave that unscathed. So it was that, marginally unsatisfied, he returned to the ship with Circleface still holding onto that object, Squareface right beside and Trianglechest as far away as possible.
Starshoulder was still busy in the engine room, occasional echoing shrieks and tormented moans reverberating out of that dark corridor leading to it indicating he was hard at work.
The Captain made sure to give all of the crew a once over with the thing-detector, finding nothing abnormal apart from the usual. Unfortunately, it seemed that the anomaly was only behaving while it was on Circleface's body and, despite how it may seem, the Captain was not entirely suicidal so he determined that Squareface and Trianglechest take turns watching their crewmate.
Ignoring their protests and expressions of despair, he returned to his quarters and settled comfortably in his chair.
"Just gonna rest for a bit", he mumbled under his breath to absolutely no-one and, unsurprisingly, as soon as his eyes closed he was out like a lantern-fish in a river.
A strange black gloop began to ooze from the bottom of his chair, the rubbery material slowly but surely spreading its physical mutation across the cabin. This time, it appeared to have gotten even bolder, the thing-detector beeping lazily, but the Captain was in far too deep a sleep to care.
A single tentacle wafted out of the tank curiously before returning back into it having very quickly lost interest.
As such, the Captain's undefended mind was assaulted by these subtly whispers as the blackness of his deep sleep transmuted into the sharpness of a vivid dream...a dream of a memory.
Let us, readers and listeners and those who follow with baited breath, go after these whispering tendrils into the deepest recessed of the Captain's subconscious. Let us enter his dream:
***
I̵̧̨̨̧̛̛̗̯̗̣̜̳̤͉̣̥͊͌̀͌̀̚͝ ̸̭̮̓́c̴̲̼͍̮͒͌̈̿̓̊ą̵̟̤͒̈͜͠n̸̮̥̦̪̥͔̱̞̘̱̜̪͈͊ ̶̗̞̗̮̣̱̜̑̎́̈́̄̋̆̈̿̈̈́̔s̷̢͒͑̃̐m̷͓͖̓́̐̂͊̑͐̚̚̚e̸̘͇̥̭͓̭̪̺̜͖̝͋́̿͐̕ļ̵̗̩̗̹̌ḽ̴̡̛̠̮͓̅͐̀̓́́͑̄͋̆̅̕͜͠ ̵̛͓̹͒̉̅̅͠t̴̡̝̥̟̖̺̗͇̯̱̣͋͌͐h̸̨̻̮̝̗̮͙̻̾̀͂ề̶̹̹̖̯̱̗̥̽̿ͅ ̷̨̛̫̪͙̣̥̩̞͉̤̠͎̰͛̎̉͛̋p̶̹̥̜̪̘̻̖͎͍̞̞̤̣͈̅̑̀̌͂͐͛͠u̸̡̡̹̹̳̦̳̘̝̪̫͙͚͂̇̏̑̍̓̽̽̽͆͆̿̕̚͜͝t̴̡̫̫͖͈͚͔͍̯̆̿̒̈́̅͌͒̓̀̑̿͋̚͝ͅr̷̮̲̺̫̠̺̲̜̒̈́̎͌̊̓̚͠͝i̸̛̝̳͍̘̐̄̈́͐͝͝d̵̛͔̂̋̎̉͗ ̸̨͙̬̻͉̬̼̭̠̪͚̃̀͐̽͋̽̓̈́̏̆̿͒͝ͅs̵̛̝͓̫̜̠̬̙͈̓̀̏͊́̎́͐ĉ̸̰̻͔̭͎͈̫̫̭͓̭͇͙͂̋͂̀͘̚ē̴̢̖̰͍̻͓̮̌̾̌̐̀̋̎ṅ̸̨̦͔͉͍̞̣̈́̆̌̔̔̿͂̍͂̈́͛͆̿ͅẗ̵̺͚͂̽̍̅́ ̵̢̢̨͚̯̟̖̫̠͕̩͕̾̾̆̾̀ͅỏ̴̧̤̥̗̜̲̣̖̹̳̱̜̖̞̙̈́f̷̡͍̣̰͈̹̫͙̭͍̎̿͛͂͛͋̀͋̆̐̋̏̕̕͜ ̷͎̟̜̖̼̰̆y̶̥͕͇̮̲͇͉̜̕o̴̡̩͔̼͚̮̳̾̽͑̓͗̉͐͋u̴̫̇̿͛́̍͛͆̋͊r̶͉̲̳̮̙͓̫͉̯͇̪͇̭͑́̾̿̄̎̿͒̉̃̋̽͘̚͝ ̷̢͙̪͔͙̦̱̓́̃̔͂͌̅̋̐̈͐͂͊͊͝h̷̨̰̠̩͇̠͍͙̝̖͍̖͉͓͆̊͝ą̷̜̦̻̙̐̄̾̈̏l̶̢̡̛͖̖̯͙̣̠̣̎̀̒̊́͗̆̎́̾͂̏͜l̸͔̗̠̬͕͖̎͛́͛̏̕o̷̡̧̼͉̺̭̥̤͕̝͈̗̊̽͑̾͊̑͂̄̇̀̂̕̕͠͠ẅ̷̗̺͕̬̬̭͎̲̝̯͚̮́̏̐́͆̓͌̽́̄͊̈́̚͜ͅe̷̢͉͈̩͚̭͎͑̎͌̊̈́͑̆̾̄̒͝d̸̞̣̖̓́͌̄̍̄̈͗̚ ̴̞̀̓́s̴͎̗̺̬͕͓̝̳̆ő̶̱̮̝̱͙̪̞̲̻̱̟̼̲̒͂̆̎͑̎̄͘̚͝u̵̮̗͚̳̖̼͔̯͕̹̔̉̄̋͗̔́̈́͐̈́̌͝ĺ̴̡̫͍̗͎̙̹̙̳̤͓͐͘͘͜͜͜
***
[A long time ago, yet not that long. Far from that red planet, yet not that far at all]
The ship was a dark, cold metallic husk floating through space. It was unharmed, yet all who observed would surely conclude that it was dead. Scanners would not detect any forms of life on board, the spaceship as inert as the asteroids it orbited the blue sun besides. It exuded a sense of hollowness far greater than any simple space-wreck. Something had happened here. Something that tingled down the Captain's spine as he approached in his own vessel.
His instincts, sharpened against the whetstone of the facing unfeeling void alone, screamed at him of danger. But there are things worse than danger, and things for which danger is a measly price to pay. Boldness is the edge that all life has against the dark forest of the cosmos. Without that first step into the unknown, no being can progress.
Yet a single step forward is steeped in the blood of a thousand failed instances. The difference between boldness and recklessness is more than semantics. It is the difference between life and death. But for some, there exists no choice between the two. The choice had been selected by forces far greater than them, scheming in the night.
Perhaps this was one of those moments. Or perhaps it was nothing more than purest of happenstance. Fate was uninvolved, as Entropy giggled in the darkness.
For the Captain, the idea of 'choice' had never even graced his mind. He was a being of single-minded purpose, locked onto his pursuit with the tenacity of a rabid dog and the precision of an ion torpedo.
He glanced at the floating husk on the display in front of him once more. Its surface was pockmarked like that of a moon, unshielded by an atmosphere to protect against meteoric collisions. No heat was emitted by its thrusters, not even the barest hint of decay from its reactor core. If not for the sharp angles and lines of artificial construction, even the Captain would have thought it nothing more than a lifeless rock.
Perhaps it would have been better this way, had he moved on from this system and left that husk behind to be forgotten. Perhaps is a heavy word yet its meaning is as light as air. It holds nothing but the promise of lost potential. Of the infinite never-whens and almosts.
It is a word that did not exist in the Captain's dictionary. For him, there only was.
And so the choice that had already been made was affirmed once more. There were no branching paths, no forks in the road. He would tread the path straight ahead with will of iron. Only a meagre lantern at his side, its weak light swallowed hungrily by the ever-present darkness.
And so, he locked his navigation onto that dead ship.
The noise of him pressing the buttons echoed mournfully in the silence of the ship. Its engines hummed quietly in the background, thrusters adjusting minutely to lock its orbit with that of its target.
The Captain was silent as his ship approached, the harsh light of the blue sun filtering through the debris of the asteroid belt around them. There were no planets in this system, or at least there were none now. Little information was available on this system as a whole, barely anything more than a small footnote on the local star-maps denoting its existence.
Out here, so far from the galactic core, at the very fringes of the outer rim, there simply was nothing worth exploring. Only those consumed by star-lust dared risk the hyperspace jumps to push the boundaries of known space. Or those desperate enough.
For out here, the horrors that lurked in between galaxies were not warded away by the Watchful Eye. Out here, every jump was a dance with a fate worse than death.
Hyperspace itself was not the same. Whispers assaulted the mind, luring travelers away from their intended paths never to be seen again. Hosts of expeditions, glorious in nature and purpose, had in the past dared breach the galactic border. None would ever return.
This system was as far out as even the Captain dared to go. The journey even longer than usual, not willing to risk staying in hyperspace for too long at a time.
But somehow, he had made it. His destination lay just several hundred metres from his portside, silhouetted against the blue sun on his display screen. With a few more flicks, the ship began its final approach. The Captain watched carefully, his hands on the wheel, as the computer calculated its approach.
With a small thud that reverberated through the hull, the two ships collided. Magnetic clamps unfurled from the Captain's vessel, attaching onto its target and securing it in place.
He stood from his seat, satisfied with the procedure, and made his way to the air lock. His expression was hidden by the reflective visor of his worn down suit as he punched in a few numbers into the keypad and stepped into the airlock.
Securing himself with the nylon weave to the tether, double-checking every component, he opened the second airlock and greeted the expanse of space.
Truly, one is never alone until he ventures out, solitary, into the emptiness of space. There was not a single soul in that entire system and for lightyears in every direction. Loneliness assaulted him like a physical force, unable to avoid the intense feeling of insignificance. He was nothing more than dust, the merest speck of a speck.
The void itself was littered with stars. The galaxy's core and its arms spread out across his vision like a dense, glowing band plastered onto the firmament. He felt like an outsider, looking in through the windows of a house and seeing a roasting hearth at the height of winter.
He turned his head. And the breath was sucked out from him. He had heard of it, but seeing was a different matter.
Absolutely nothing. He was looking, with his own eyes, at what existed beyond the borders of their galaxy. Away from the galactic core, whose bright and sparkling lights glowed with the fires of civilisation, there was absolutely nothing.
He squinted.
Not quite nothing. There were sparse, faint pinpricks of light. After a few moments thought, realisation came to him. Not stars. Distant galaxies. All as bright and rich as his own. All beyond his reach.
For a brief moment, he allowed himself to wonder. Was there someone out there at that moment, looking down at him? He looked away. It was a nice thought, but a thought was all it was.
For a second, he felt that strange craving living creatures so far removed from others of their kind felt, to be viewed. To be observed. To have their existence validated. He felt the true enormity of his desolation out here, his mind brushing against its infinity, recoiling in instinctive horror.
He jerked away from the sky split in two, focusing his attention instead on the dead husk before him.
With small bursts of air, he propelled himself through the vacuum, landing on the other ship besides one of his own ship's mechanical clasps. His magnetised boots clung to the husk, securing him in place as his tether floated behind him through his open air lock.
Removing his cutter from his belt, he knelt down. His reflection was warped in the pockmarked surface, his own reflective visor returning an infinite recursion of images that he tore himself from looking too deeply into.
Out here, the barriers between the mind and matter were thin. To peer too deeply would be to expose yourself like a lantern in the deep sea, and to be devoured all the same.
With the mechanical precision of pure muscle memory, he worked in a perfect circle, melting through the metal of the ship. It was thick, and the heated metal would cool incredibly quickly once the laser was taken off it, making a tedious task even more time consuming.
After nearly an hour, he was done and with a firm, though unadvised, stomp of his boot, the circular piece dislodged, falling into the darkness below. There was no sound of air escaping, indicating the insides of the ship were as inhospitable to life as the outside. Whatever accident had led it to its fate had thoroughly ensured that any survivors would have a hard time.
He returned the cutter to his waist and turned on the torch on his helmet. Making sure not to snag his tether on any sharp edges, he checked how much length remained and, finding it satisfactory, pulled himself through his opening.
Maybe, once, there was gravity on the ship. Now, those systems had long since been offline, the Captain navigating by pulling himself on handholds on the walls.
Up close, the ship's size could be seen. From a tiny pin prick on the display to the fairly large craft it actually was. Far larger than his vessel, but it lacked the distinctive features of a military vessel. If anything, it seemed more like a pleasure cruise than anything else.
Whatever markings had once denoted the various rooms and corridors he floated through had long been removed, scratched off by seemingly frantic hands. Dark stains on the walls gave an inkling of insight to the Captain over what transpired here.
His helmet illuminated the passage in front him him as it winded around and opened into a large room. Several glass cylinders reached from the floor to the ceiling. He half expected them to be broken, whatever monstrosities hidden within to have broken out and slaughtered the crew.
But he found those cylinders untouched. And empty. They were set in a row at the far end of the room, massive coils coming from each one and leading to various instruments. None of it was on, not even a layer of dust coating them due to the lack of gravity, but the complexity of the machinery was not in doubt.
He glanced at the display on his wrist, a blinking red dot indicating his target was nearby. Grabbing a table he pulled himself over, his torch illuminating the paper that, by some miracle, had not floated away or been destroyed.
He flipped through it briefly, but its writing was illegible. Only strangely coloured shapes amidst several diagrams of mind-boggling complexity and calculations he would never even dare to claim he understood. A circle. A square. A triangle. Not willing to waste any more time, more than aware of his limited supply of air, he grabbed it and stuffed it into a pouch on his belt unceremoniously.
Besides it was a small black disk. It matched the photo he had been given, and so he grabbed that too, though with marginally more care. As he was leaving, his torch swung across the room and a revolting face loomed right in front him of as though having dived out from the shadows.
He scrambled backwards in a panic, tangling his tether around the legs of the chair and fumbled for the gun at his waist. He braced for the inevitable impact and, when none came, he looked up curiously.
No longer blinded by panic, he could see its appearance more clearly. It was an ancient, almost mummified corpse. Desiccated skin that was stretched taut across a bony face, still frozen in an expression of wide eyed terror.
Its eyes. The Captain shuddered at the sight. They were completely black, as though the pupil had leaked and infected the rest of the iris and sclera its same colour. The colours on its clothes were faded from time, and the writing was scratched out in a similar manner to the signs outside.
Once again feeling a shiver down his spine, the Captain redoubled his affirmations not to spend a second longer here than he had to. Carefully untangling his tether, he followed it back out of the room, sparing a single glance at the floating corpse and those empty tanks.
Unknown to him, after he had left, that thing he called a corpse moved its neck like a rusty hinge. It looked towards where the Captain had left and mouthed something unheard. Its pitch black eyes began leaking an inky fluid that collected in the air. It seemed like it was trying to move, but its ancient joints had long since turned to dust. And so it was consigned to remain there, motionless, mouthing that same phrase over and over again as it looked out at the empty hallway.
The Captain pulled himself back along those handholds, following tether with increasing speed while feeling irrationally on edge, like every shadow hid another corpse to jump out at him.
He kept increasing his speed, crossing familiar dark splotches staining the walls. Until a heavy feeling weighed down on him. A sense of incongruity. Rooms he did not recognise, turns and hallways leading into the darkness he could not remember passing. This heavy feeling only grew until it climaxed into a morbid realisation.
He came to a stop floating in the middle of that hallway. He stared in horror as a cold sweat covered his body. He swallowed with difficulty in his suddenly dry throat.
There, clutched in his shaking hands, was the torn end of his tether. His trembling voice echoed in the confines of his helmet as the darkness swallowing the light from his torch seemed particularly malevolent.
"Gratches Great Gletrious"