Culmination Point

Colonel Anderson drifted motionless. Suspended by the black void around him. He was startled awake by a jolt followed by panicked breath. EVA alerts blared in his ears His vision obscured by a thick frost on his visor. His heart sank at the reality of his situation. He had failed.

By this time his advanced heart rate and breathing had begun to defrost his visor. Before him was a ballet of twisted metals and unknown liquids. He recognized this war torn hellscape as all that remained of his ship, the Steed of Valor. The honeycombed metallic carcass around him was the last line of defense earth had. A supposed pinnacle of human intelligence and engineering. With a protégé of advanced interstellar combat at the helm. The last light of humanity had been snuffed out. They were no match for this advanced threat.

James's attention was re-captured by his EVA alarms. He felt the severity of the moment sink in. One minute and 30 seconds of oxygen remain. He felt frozen unable to move. Personal welfare was the last thing on his mind. The fate of everyone he knew and loved lingered over him. He remained motionless as time ticked by. One minute remained. He felt as though the darkness was calling him. Almost like he was meant to remain here as a final resting place.

A glimmer of intact glass caught his eye. Brought to light by a twisting piece of metal. He recognized it instantly as the canopy of a planet side troop transport vessel. "45 seconds remain" the EVA suit murmured in its emotionless voice. The Col deactivated the EVA warning protocols. He removed an armor plate from his right flank to create thrust. Throwing it in an opposing direction to the troop transport he began to spin. This motion revealing the magnitude of his failure. All life on earth was silent at this moment. Allowing the image to sink in revealed the shattered mantle of the earth. All that remained was best described as a puzzle with infinite pieces. Pieces that could never be put back together. Col Anderson removed the plate from his left flank repeating the procedure from before. His progress was best described as slow. He began to feel his chest tighten. He had used the remainder of his oxygen. The Col had accepted any outcome. Death was a calming thought to him in that moment.

A violent rush of pain followed by extreme disorientation overwhelmed Anderson. A rogue piece of metal drifting through the void unbeknownst to him had struck him from behind. Its extreme velocity breaking his back on impact. Miraculously his EVA suit was not ruptured in the exchange. James clung to what remained of consciousness. It quickly slipped through his fingers. His lifeless body was hurled toward the troop transport. He smacked against the hull.

James awoke gasping, the feeling of adrenaline overwhelming him. He was within reach of the transport. He pawed along the hull. The overlapping darkness seeming to envelope him. He felt his fingers connect with the rapid release handle on the belly of the ship. He turned the handle 45 degrees counterclockwise. In response the door rapidly divided exposing the interior of the transport. James ascended. The door closing behind him. The ship pressurized the cabin and activated the antigrav generator in response to his presence. James fell flat on the deck, the ceiling of the troop transport locked into view. Consciousness eluded him once again.

He awoke disoriented an unknown amount of time had passed. Silence filled the deployment bay. James motioned to get up. Space, and an added amount of adrenaline, had nullified the extent of his injuries. He laid motionless. He was sure he was rotating his ankle but his ankles yielded nothing. This confirmed the worst; he had no motion in his legs. He called out to the onboard computer. It greeted the Col in an upbeat tone, and promptly congratulated him on his new promotion to acting commander and che-- James interrupted the computer demanding a status report. The computer states the date and time in its usual automated fashion. Then informed the Col that it had no further uplink data. This meant he was truly alone.

He motioned for the computer again this time demanding that it deactivate the anti-grav generators. He stated his security code. The computer countered with a rant of redundant safety protocols and long-winded legal ramifications. It then asked for conformation of the information. The Col agreed. The computer then promptly obeyed his request. Freed from the confines of his injuries, the Col made his way to the cockpit. The door split in response to his presence.

Anderson drifted through a mess; what could be best described as a dorm room, as opposed to the cockpit of a spacecraft. Coffee, stray technical documents, and what appeared to be a random allotment of clothes and personal items drifted around him. A lifeless body sat in the flight chair. Anderson could see the final days of this pilot play out in the cockpit; the emotional battle that was fought and lost here. The pilot upon further inspection had taken their own life.

The Col’s eyes wandered out the windshield. All that remained of his former home was framed perfectly in view. The motivator for his fellow pilot's actions became apparent. Anderson wondered if he should follow the same path. The Col’s silent gaze was broken by an object that had mixed with the clutter, until now. An object just as familiar as it was alien in this moment; a leather-bound book. He grabbed it and noted a bookmark stood sprouted from the page. He opened the book revealing the information inside. He stared at the page. A picture of a barn owl perched in a tree stared back at him. The picture lifeless, like so much around him. He thought of owls and their ability to created soundless flight. He thought of wolves in the tundra working in unison to accomplish a goal. He thought of humanity; millions of years of evolution, thousands of years of technical advancement led up to this point. He may be all that remained, the last reminder of earth and its accomplishments.

Anderson turned to the flight chair unbuckling the unknown pilot, and assumed his position. It can’t end here. The engines of the troop transport roared to life. Col James Anderson steered toward what remained of his home. His fate remaining uncertain.