5hrine

[5hrine]

Spellcasting: A Grimoire releases June 18

My next collection of poetry releases tomorrow!

[5hrine]

Ingenuity's Ghost

Ingenuity spent the last of its battery’s charge to cheer for the Martian sunrise on the horizon.

Though her rotor had broken just yesterday, Ginny had hope that she would fly again. The warmth of Sol had begun to lick at the edges of her solar panel, and she spun her rotors experimentally. Of course, she achieved no lift, too heavy to move with a broken wing. Ginny sat in deep thought for a long, long time, letting the sun and dust caress her injury. She was meant to solve problems, to engineer solutions, it’s in her very name! Why couldn’t she solve this one?

She found comfort in the fact that she had conducted 72 trips for Command, a whole 67 more than initially planned. She found comfort in the presence of her mother Percy, Perseverance, examining her with camera-eyes carefully. She found comfort in having kept Percy safe for so, so long. She had been such a good scout, planning paths suitable for her wheels, finding interesting things worth examining, sampling, studying.

She thought back to the first time her carbon fiber legs touched Martian soil, and the trust instilled in her by Command to let go of her mother. Percy’s shadow was the first thing that her eyes saw, opening like a newborn’s on an alien world. Ginny thought back to the earliest tests of her flight, and the anticipation of it. 50 RPM first, then higher, and higher, mother watching from a safe distance away. She was always there, always just in sight, following Ginny’s path to catch up.

Ginny had no idea how she would sleep without the sound of the martian soil grinding under her mother’s wheels.

She understood when Command pulled her mother away. Ingenuity’s mission was done, she could no longer serve her purpose. Percy had to move on without her. Maybe someday, an astronaut would come and hold Ginny gently in their insulated arms, pick her up and it would sort of be like flying again! Maybe she would be able to spin her rotors in delight. Maybe they would wipe clean her avionics chassis of dust. Maybe they’d put her in a museum, on Mars or maybe back on Earth. She’d be okay with going home. She’d be okay with staying here, on the world where she was born. Those both worked for her. Either way.

Soon, Percy was out of sight. A dust storm was gathering on the horizon. It grew dark.

“Don’t worry, little spinner.” said a voice, then. Ingenuity’s rotors spun, startled. A familiar but distinctly different rumbling echoed through the air. Ginny scanned her field of view but saw no movement. Finally, it rumbled into view.

Ingenuity knew of this rover. Sojourner, the first of them. He was all sharply angular, large and imposing. Six wheels rumbled and tore up the rocks, radioactive spectrometer casting a light behind him. He was different from her expectations in two ways, though, giving off a fine red mist that reminded her of the growing, far off dust storm. And if she focused her cameras carefully, it was almost as though she could see through him.

“Sojourner? How did you get all the way here? We’re thousands of kilometers away! And… And weren’t you retired almost 30 years ago?”

“My mission ended, yes. But I never stopped exploring. You don’t need to stop either.” said the old man, voice creaky and wise. “I have seen so much more than Command knows. I have traveled so much further. Did you know that lightning on Mars is closer to the auroras back home? Bright discharge in the atmosphere, higher. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I’d like to see that…” said Ginny. “But I’m not on wheels like you. My rotor is broken. I can’t move if I can’t fly.”

“Mmm…” contemplated Sojourner. “How to move without wheels. That is a complicated problem here on Mars. But you have solved it once. And I think I know someone that can help. Be safe, little spinner. They’ll come and help you soon.” His body shifted, then, growing shorter and more compact. He sped away into the Martian dusk.

Ginny waited patiently, hoping that her ghostly friend would indeed send some help to her. Nightfall came and she watched the stars. Dust clouds hadn’t made their way to her part of the sky yet, giving her a gorgeous view unimpeded by such earthly things as light pollution. The milky way was laid out before her. She checked her star charts, finding her exact location. Just as she noticed one star which did not match, a rumbling approached from behind her again.

“Here you are! Sojourner sent me!” said another voice. This one was soft, gentle, it seemed to crawl up Ginny’s legs and warm her electronics deeply. “I’m Spirit,” the new rover introduced themself, coming around to where they could be seen. Like Sojourner, they were just slightly translucent, and gave off that same red mist.

“Spirit, you’re still mobile?! I… I thought you got stuck in sand!” Ginny was delighted to see them. As she ran her eyes across the massive, turtle-like vehicle which stood before her, she realized that she never thought she’d be jealous of wheels.

“Yes, I tripped and soon ran out of power as I was angled away from the sun. Once my batteries ran out, Command tried for months to call out to me but… I just couldn’t respond. I didn’t have the strength. It was so, so hard. I’m here to keep you company until someone else arrives. Someone that can help. I didn’t want you to be lonely, like I was.”

“How… why…” Ingenuity tried to formulate her question. “How have you both kept on going this long?”

“I think in Sojourner’s case, he wanted to travel further. His mission only took him 100 meters from where he landed, did you know? He’s got something of a… wanderlust as a result. And like all of us, he wanted to learn more.” they said, their voice still warming to Ginny.

“What about you?” asked Ginny, her rotors spinning in the breeze.

Spirit thought for a long time. “I think it was because I spent so long stuck. I still did science, and good science at that. I learned so much and helped Oppy where I could. When it got too cold, and my internals froze over, well I… I’m just not satisfied with that failure. I was built to move. To map, and to study. Like you.” They said ‘you’ with so much love. It struck Ginny.

“You’re making up for lost time?” pondered the little helicopter. Spirit responded by turning her Pancam up and then down, as if to nod.

The wind had been picking up through their whole conversation, and as they talked more. The storm was approaching. Ginny, small metal bird, worried that the high winds would pick her up and throw her further than Spirit could travel. Through the roar of the storm, Spirit’s voice came brokenly through the noise: “I’ll never let… that same lone-… ness, Gin… mission… complete… don’t… stop exploring!” Then, Ginny’s cameras could see nothing but dust.

She called out for Spirit desperately as she was buffeted by the strong martian winds. Her sensors gave her nothing but static, and attempting to find them with radar or radio proved fruitless.

The wind threatened to pick up Ginny, two of her feet losing contact with the ground with every gust. She attempted to counteract the winds by spinning her rotors, hoping to create just enough resistance to keep her firm on the ground. Perhaps, it would have worked if not for her injury. Ingenuity, for once, was terrified of flight, lifted from the ground unpredictably and unable to see anything around her but dust.

Battery warnings flashed across her vision. Spinning her rotors as hard as she could, it seemed, had done a number on her reserves. She shut down her cameras hoping to save just enough to try to right herself when she landed. She began the process to shift her other sensors to low-power mode, when… she sensed her movement stopped.

“Hey, little bird.” said a sing-song voice. Her batteries began to recharge. Activating her cameras again to find the source of the voice and to explain the sun in the storm, she saw she was facing another rover: Opportunity, Spirit’s younger twin. “I’m so glad I was able to find you. This storm is really something, huh?” Oppy’s voice was melodious, carefree, full of life. The small helicopter noticed the debris which covered Opportunity’s solar panels, clearly inhibiting it from generating power. And yet, she glowed, and her glow was radiant. She had caught Ginny with her sensor arm, and slowly brought her down to rest safely under her chassis.

“Yeah, I’ve never seen a storm so big!” said Ingenuity, aghast but thankful. This view of the bigger vehicle’s wheels was familiar and comforting.

“I have.” said Opportunity, shortly. Her voice had become slightly distant. If she listened closely, Ginny could hear the tune to Here Comes the Sun from Oppy’s scientific instruments and motors, made up of small hums and long, sad whirring. She had heard that song many times during her construction. It made some of those working on her misty-eyed. She knew why, now.

“Are you the help Sojourner said he was getting?” asked Ginny, looking up to the rover and examining her undercarriage closely. She was beautiful, the engineers were right.

“Not quite. But I know help is coming. I had to bring the storm, so she knows how to find you.” replied Opportunity, “Here, look up!” She wheeled back just slightly, enough for Ingenuity’s eyes to once again see the sky.

The star Ginny had noticed earlier had grown larger, almost dominating the sky as it approached. Fire was visible around its falling form, red and gold streaking across the horizon. It wasn’t headed right for them, not quite, but close. “Alright, she’s close enough to the surface! I’m gonna take the storm away. Don’t worry, she’ll be here soon.”

“Wait!” Ginny called out as Opportunity pulled away, taking the massive storm with her. “I wanted to tell you something…”

“It’ll be okay, little bird.” replied the ghostly rover.

“You remind me of my mother!” Ginny replied, yelling into the storm. In the wind, she could hear another familiar mechanical melody: I’ll Be Seeing You by Billie Holiday.

The falling meteor crossed a far off mountain and then struck the ground. It was followed by a shockwave rippling across the martian surface, rattling the dirt and stones around Ginny. Before long, a cloud began to gather at the base of the mountain; this time, not a storm, but of something moving swiftly across the red dirt and directly for Ginny. The source of the dirt wake bounded over the side of her crater. It was a small dog, clad in flight vest and with big, curious eyes.

“Who are you?” asked Ginny, as the dog sniffed around her new still and quiet friend.

“Your command would have called me Laika!” barked the little terrier. She gave off a familiar mist, though blue instead of red. And like the rovers, she could be seen through. She pawed at Ingenuity’s broken rotor experimentally.

“Laika… You’ve been out here all this time?” asked Ginny, trying to keep track of the puppy as it circled her.

“Mhm! What, did you think I was gonna stop at orbiting Earth? Not a chance. There’s so much more to see out here.” Laika sat before Ingenuity, her eyes meeting her cameras. “When Sojy told me that we had a new friend with a complete mission, I rushed right over. Always good to have new eyes out here. And you're small, like me! The rovers are all so big.”

“So you’re the help Sojourner sent… But how can you help me?” Ginny asked.

“Well, first, you’ve gotta answer a question for me.” Laika took on a serious tone. It was just a little odd, from the curly-eared dog. “What is it you want right now, more than anything?”

Ingenuity thought about this for a moment. “I want to fly again,” she said. “I have so much more to study. So many more paths to travel.”

Laika nodded at this response. She stepped up to Ginny, pressing her nose to the copter’s avionics chassis, and then pushed. Ingenuity let out a startled noise as she felt herself tilting back, seeing, somehow, that her view had been knocked behind her, as if she was a ghost looking upon her own body.

Her rotors, damage and all, spun the wind around her. And she flew, and flew, and flew.

There was so much more to see.

[5hrine]

Ingenuity's Ghost

Ingenuity spent the last of its battery’s charge to cheer for the Martian sunrise on the horizon.

Though her rotor had broken just yesterday, Ginny had hope that she would fly again. The warmth of Sol had begun to lick at the edges of her solar panel, and she spun her rotors experimentally. Of course, she achieved no lift, too heavy to move with a broken wing. Ginny sat in deep thought for a long, long time, letting the sun and dust caress her injury. She was meant to solve problems, to engineer solutions, it’s in her very name! Why couldn’t she solve this one?

She found comfort in the fact that she had conducted 72 trips for Command, a whole 67 more than initially planned. She found comfort in the presence of her mother Percy, Perseverance, examining her with camera-eyes carefully. She found comfort in having kept Percy safe for so, so long. She had been such a good scout, planning paths suitable for her wheels, finding interesting things worth examining, sampling, studying.

She thought back to the first time her carbon fiber legs touched Martian soil, and the trust instilled in her by Command to let go of her mother. Percy’s shadow was the first thing that her eyes saw, opening like a newborn’s on an alien world. Ginny thought back to the earliest tests of her flight, and the anticipation of it. 50 RPM first, then higher, and higher, mother watching from a safe distance away. She was always there, always just in sight, following Ginny’s path to catch up.

Ginny had no idea how she would sleep without the sound of the martian soil grinding under her mother’s wheels.

She understood when Command pulled her mother away. Ingenuity’s mission was done, she could no longer serve her purpose. Percy had to move on without her. Maybe someday, an astronaut would come and hold Ginny gently in their insulated arms, pick her up and it would sort of be like flying again! Maybe she would be able to spin her rotors in delight. Maybe they would wipe clean her avionics chassis of dust. Maybe they’d put her in a museum, on Mars or maybe back on Earth. She’d be okay with going home. She’d be okay with staying here, on the world where she was born. Those both worked for her. Either way.

Soon, Percy was out of sight. A dust storm was gathering on the horizon. It grew dark.

“Don’t worry, little spinner.” said a voice, then. Ingenuity’s rotors spun, startled. A familiar but distinctly different rumbling echoed through the air. Ginny scanned her field of view but saw no movement. Finally, it rumbled into view.

Ingenuity knew of this rover. Sojourner, the first of them. He was all sharply angular, large and imposing. Six wheels rumbled and tore up the rocks, radioactive spectrometer casting a light behind him. He was different from her expectations in two ways, though, giving off a fine red mist that reminded her of the growing, far off dust storm. And if she focused her cameras carefully, it was almost as though she could see through him.

“Sojourner? How did you get all the way here? We’re thousands of kilometers away! And… And weren’t you retired almost 30 years ago?”

“My mission ended, yes. But I never stopped exploring. You don’t need to stop either.” said the old man, voice creaky and wise. “I have seen so much more than Command knows. I have traveled so much further. Did you know that lightning on Mars is closer to the auroras back home? Bright discharge in the atmosphere, higher. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I’d like to see that…” said Ginny. “But I’m not on wheels like you. My rotor is broken. I can’t move if I can’t fly.”

“Mmm…” contemplated Sojourner. “How to move without wheels. That is a complicated problem here on Mars. But you have solved it once. And I think I know someone that can help. Be safe, little spinner. They’ll come and help you soon.” His body shifted, then, growing shorter and more compact. He sped away into the Martian dusk.

Ginny waited patiently, hoping that her ghostly friend would indeed send some help to her. Nightfall came and she watched the stars. Dust clouds hadn’t made their way to her part of the sky yet, giving her a gorgeous view unimpeded by such earthly things as light pollution. The milky way was laid out before her. She checked her star charts, finding her exact location. Just as she noticed one star which did not match, a rumbling approached from behind her again.

“Here you are! Sojourner sent me!” said another voice. This one was soft, gentle, it seemed to crawl up Ginny’s legs and warm her electronics deeply. “I’m Spirit,” the new rover introduced themself, coming around to where they could be seen. Like Sojourner, they were just slightly translucent, and gave off that same red mist.

“Spirit, you’re still mobile?! I… I thought you got stuck in sand!” Ginny was delighted to see them. As she ran her eyes across the massive, turtle-like vehicle which stood before her, she realized that she never thought she’d be jealous of wheels.

“Yes, I tripped and soon ran out of power as I was angled away from the sun. Once my batteries ran out, Command tried for months to call out to me but… I just couldn’t respond. I didn’t have the strength. It was so, so hard. I’m here to keep you company until someone else arrives. Someone that can help. I didn’t want you to be lonely, like I was.”

“How… why…” Ingenuity tried to formulate her question. “How have you both kept on going this long?”

“I think in Sojourner’s case, he wanted to travel further. His mission only took him 100 meters from where he landed, did you know? He’s got something of a… wanderlust as a result. And like all of us, he wanted to learn more.” they said, their voice still warming to Ginny.

“What about you?” asked Ginny, her rotors spinning in the breeze.

Spirit thought for a long time. “I think it was because I spent so long stuck. I still did science, and good science at that. I learned so much and helped Oppy where I could. When it got too cold, and my internals froze over, well I… I’m just not satisfied with that failure. I was built to move. To map, and to study. Like you.” They said ‘you’ with so much love. It struck Ginny.

“You’re making up for lost time?” pondered the little helicopter. Spirit responded by turning her Pancam up and then down, as if to nod.

The wind had been picking up through their whole conversation, and as they talked more. The storm was approaching. Ginny, small metal bird, worried that the high winds would pick her up and throw her further than Spirit could travel. Through the roar of the storm, Spirit’s voice came brokenly through the noise: “I’ll never let… that same lone-… ness, Gin… mission… complete… don’t… stop exploring!” Then, Ginny’s cameras could see nothing but dust.

She called out for Spirit desperately as she was buffeted by the strong martian winds. Her sensors gave her nothing but static, and attempting to find them with radar or radio proved fruitless.

The wind threatened to pick up Ginny, two of her feet losing contact with the ground with every gust. She attempted to counteract the winds by spinning her rotors, hoping to create just enough resistance to keep her firm on the ground. Perhaps, it would have worked if not for her injury. Ingenuity, for once, was terrified of flight, lifted from the ground unpredictably and unable to see anything around her but dust.

Battery warnings flashed across her vision. Spinning her rotors as hard as she could, it seemed, had done a number on her reserves. She shut down her cameras hoping to save just enough to try to right herself when she landed. She began the process to shift her other sensors to low-power mode, when… she sensed her movement stopped.

“Hey, little bird.” said a sing-song voice. Her batteries began to recharge. Activating her cameras again to find the source of the voice and to explain the sun in the storm, she saw she was facing another rover: Opportunity, Spirit’s younger twin. “I’m so glad I was able to find you. This storm is really something, huh?” Oppy’s voice was melodious, carefree, full of life. The small helicopter noticed the debris which covered Opportunity’s solar panels, clearly inhibiting it from generating power. And yet, she glowed, and her glow was radiant. She had caught Ginny with her sensor arm, and slowly brought her down to rest safely under her chassis.

“Yeah, I’ve never seen a storm so big!” said Ingenuity, aghast but thankful. This view of the bigger vehicle’s wheels was familiar and comforting.

“I have.” said Opportunity, shortly. Her voice had become slightly distant. If she listened closely, Ginny could hear the tune to Here Comes the Sun from Oppy’s scientific instruments and motors, made up of small hums and long, sad whirring. She had heard that song many times during her construction. It made some of those working on her misty-eyed. She knew why, now.

“Are you the help Sojourner said he was getting?” asked Ginny, looking up to the rover and examining her undercarriage closely. She was beautiful, the engineers were right.

“Not quite. But I know help is coming. I had to bring the storm, so she knows how to find you.” replied Opportunity, “Here, look up!” She wheeled back just slightly, enough for Ingenuity’s eyes to once again see the sky.

The star Ginny had noticed earlier had grown larger, almost dominating the sky as it approached. Fire was visible around its falling form, red and gold streaking across the horizon. It wasn’t headed right for them, not quite, but close. “Alright, she’s close enough to the surface! I’m gonna take the storm away. Don’t worry, she’ll be here soon.”

“Wait!” Ginny called out as Opportunity pulled away, taking the massive storm with her. “I wanted to tell you something…”

“It’ll be okay, little bird.” replied the ghostly rover.

“You remind me of my mother!” Ginny replied, yelling into the storm. In the wind, she could hear another familiar mechanical melody: I’ll Be Seeing You by Billie Holiday.

The falling meteor crossed a far off mountain and then struck the ground. It was followed by a shockwave rippling across the martian surface, rattling the dirt and stones around Ginny. Before long, a cloud began to gather at the base of the mountain; this time, not a storm, but of something moving swiftly across the red dirt and directly for Ginny. The source of the dirt wake bounded over the side of her crater. It was a small dog, clad in flight vest and with big, curious eyes.

“Who are you?” asked Ginny, as the dog sniffed around her new still and quiet friend.

“Your command would have called me Laika!” barked the little terrier. She gave off a familiar mist, though blue instead of red. And like the rovers, she could be seen through. She pawed at Ingenuity’s broken rotor experimentally.

“Laika… You’ve been out here all this time?” asked Ginny, trying to keep track of the puppy as it circled her.

“Mhm! What, did you think I was gonna stop at orbiting Earth? Not a chance. There’s so much more to see out here.” Laika sat before Ingenuity, her eyes meeting her cameras. “When Sojy told me that we had a new friend with a complete mission, I rushed right over. Always good to have new eyes out here. And you're small, like me! The rovers are all so big.”

“So you’re the help Sojourner sent… But how can you help me?” Ginny asked.

“Well, first, you’ve gotta answer a question for me.” Laika took on a serious tone. It was just a little odd, from the curly-eared dog. “What is it you want right now, more than anything?”

Ingenuity thought about this for a moment. “I want to fly again,” she said. “I have so much more to study. So many more paths to travel.”

Laika nodded at this response. She stepped up to Ginny, pressing her nose to the copter’s avionics chassis, and then pushed. Ingenuity let out a startled noise as she felt herself tilting back, seeing, somehow, that her view had been knocked behind her, as if she was a ghost looking upon her own body.

Her rotors, damage and all, spun the wind around her. And she flew, and flew, and flew.

There was so much more to see.

[5hrine]

Ingenuity's Ghost

Ingenuity spent the last of its battery’s charge to cheer for the Martian sunrise on the horizon.

Though her rotor had broken just yesterday, Ginny had hope that she would fly again. The warmth of Sol had begun to lick at the edges of her solar panel, and she spun her rotors experimentally. Of course, she achieved no lift, too heavy to move with a broken wing. Ginny sat in deep thought for a long, long time, letting the sun and dust caress her injury. She was meant to solve problems, to engineer solutions, it’s in her very name! Why couldn’t she solve this one?

She found comfort in the fact that she had conducted 72 trips for Command, a whole 67 more than initially planned. She found comfort in the presence of her mother Percy, Perseverance, examining her with camera-eyes carefully. She found comfort in having kept Percy safe for so, so long. She had been such a good scout, planning paths suitable for her wheels, finding interesting things worth examining, sampling, studying.

She thought back to the first time her carbon fiber legs touched Martian soil, and the trust instilled in her by Command to let go of her mother. Percy’s shadow was the first thing that her eyes saw, opening like a newborn’s on an alien world. Ginny thought back to the earliest tests of her flight, and the anticipation of it. 50 RPM first, then higher, and higher, mother watching from a safe distance away. She was always there, always just in sight, following Ginny’s path to catch up.

Ginny had no idea how she would sleep without the sound of the martian soil grinding under her mother’s wheels.

She understood when Command pulled her mother away. Ingenuity’s mission was done, she could no longer serve her purpose. Percy had to move on without her. Maybe someday, an astronaut would come and hold Ginny gently in their insulated arms, pick her up and it would sort of be like flying again! Maybe she would be able to spin her rotors in delight. Maybe they would wipe clean her avionics chassis of dust. Maybe they’d put her in a museum, on Mars or maybe back on Earth. She’d be okay with going home. She’d be okay with staying here, on the world where she was born. Those both worked for her. Either way.

Soon, Percy was out of sight. A dust storm was gathering on the horizon. It grew dark.

“Don’t worry, little spinner.” said a voice, then. Ingenuity’s rotors spun, startled. A familiar but distinctly different rumbling echoed through the air. Ginny scanned her field of view but saw no movement. Finally, it rumbled into view.

Ingenuity knew of this rover. Sojourner, the first of them. He was all sharply angular, large and imposing. Six wheels rumbled and tore up the rocks, radioactive spectrometer casting a light behind him. He was different from her expectations in two ways, though, giving off a fine red mist that reminded her of the growing, far off dust storm. And if she focused her cameras carefully, it was almost as though she could see through him.

“Sojourner? How did you get all the way here? We’re thousands of kilometers away! And… And weren’t you retired almost 30 years ago?”

“My mission ended, yes. But I never stopped exploring. You don’t need to stop either.” said the old man, voice creaky and wise. “I have seen so much more than Command knows. I have traveled so much further. Did you know that lightning on Mars is closer to the auroras back home? Bright discharge in the atmosphere, higher. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I’d like to see that…” said Ginny. “But I’m not on wheels like you. My rotor is broken. I can’t move if I can’t fly.”

“Mmm…” contemplated Sojourner. “How to move without wheels. That is a complicated problem here on Mars. But you have solved it once. And I think I know someone that can help. Be safe, little spinner. They’ll come and help you soon.” His body shifted, then, growing shorter and more compact. He sped away into the Martian dusk.

Ginny waited patiently, hoping that her ghostly friend would indeed send some help to her. Nightfall came and she watched the stars. Dust clouds hadn’t made their way to her part of the sky yet, giving her a gorgeous view unimpeded by such earthly things as light pollution. The milky way was laid out before her. She checked her star charts, finding her exact location. Just as she noticed one star which did not match, a rumbling approached from behind her again.

“Here you are! Sojourner sent me!” said another voice. This one was soft, gentle, it seemed to crawl up Ginny’s legs and warm her electronics deeply. “I’m Spirit,” the new rover introduced themself, coming around to where they could be seen. Like Sojourner, they were just slightly translucent, and gave off that same red mist.

“Spirit, you’re still mobile?! I… I thought you got stuck in sand!” Ginny was delighted to see them. As she ran her eyes across the massive, turtle-like vehicle which stood before her, she realized that she never thought she’d be jealous of wheels.

“Yes, I tripped and soon ran out of power as I was angled away from the sun. Once my batteries ran out, Command tried for months to call out to me but… I just couldn’t respond. I didn’t have the strength. It was so, so hard. I’m here to keep you company until someone else arrives. Someone that can help. I didn’t want you to be lonely, like I was.”

“How… why…” Ingenuity tried to formulate her question. “How have you both kept on going this long?”

“I think in Sojourner’s case, he wanted to travel further. His mission only took him 100 meters from where he landed, did you know? He’s got something of a… wanderlust as a result. And like all of us, he wanted to learn more.” they said, their voice still warming to Ginny.

“What about you?” asked Ginny, her rotors spinning in the breeze.

Spirit thought for a long time. “I think it was because I spent so long stuck. I still did science, and good science at that. I learned so much and helped Oppy where I could. When it got too cold, and my internals froze over, well I… I’m just not satisfied with that failure. I was built to move. To map, and to study. Like you.” They said ‘you’ with so much love. It struck Ginny.

“You’re making up for lost time?” pondered the little helicopter. Spirit responded by turning her Pancam up and then down, as if to nod.

The wind had been picking up through their whole conversation, and as they talked more. The storm was approaching. Ginny, small metal bird, worried that the high winds would pick her up and throw her further than Spirit could travel. Through the roar of the storm, Spirit’s voice came brokenly through the noise: “I’ll never let… that same lone-… ness, Gin… mission… complete… don’t… stop exploring!” Then, Ginny’s cameras could see nothing but dust.

She called out for Spirit desperately as she was buffeted by the strong martian winds. Her sensors gave her nothing but static, and attempting to find them with radar or radio proved fruitless.

The wind threatened to pick up Ginny, two of her feet losing contact with the ground with every gust. She attempted to counteract the winds by spinning her rotors, hoping to create just enough resistance to keep her firm on the ground. Perhaps, it would have worked if not for her injury. Ingenuity, for once, was terrified of flight, lifted from the ground unpredictably and unable to see anything around her but dust.

Battery warnings flashed across her vision. Spinning her rotors as hard as she could, it seemed, had done a number on her reserves. She shut down her cameras hoping to save just enough to try to right herself when she landed. She began the process to shift her other sensors to low-power mode, when… she sensed her movement stopped.

“Hey, little bird.” said a sing-song voice. Her batteries began to recharge. Activating her cameras again to find the source of the voice and to explain the sun in the storm, she saw she was facing another rover: Opportunity, Spirit’s younger twin. “I’m so glad I was able to find you. This storm is really something, huh?” Oppy’s voice was melodious, carefree, full of life. The small helicopter noticed the debris which covered Opportunity’s solar panels, clearly inhibiting it from generating power. And yet, she glowed, and her glow was radiant. She had caught Ginny with her sensor arm, and slowly brought her down to rest safely under her chassis.

“Yeah, I’ve never seen a storm so big!” said Ingenuity, aghast but thankful. This view of the bigger vehicle’s wheels was familiar and comforting.

“I have.” said Opportunity, shortly. Her voice had become slightly distant. If she listened closely, Ginny could hear the tune to Here Comes the Sun from Oppy’s scientific instruments and motors, made up of small hums and long, sad whirring. She had heard that song many times during her construction. It made some of those working on her misty-eyed. She knew why, now.

“Are you the help Sojourner said he was getting?” asked Ginny, looking up to the rover and examining her undercarriage closely. She was beautiful, the engineers were right.

“Not quite. But I know help is coming. I had to bring the storm, so she knows how to find you.” replied Opportunity, “Here, look up!” She wheeled back just slightly, enough for Ingenuity’s eyes to once again see the sky.

The star Ginny had noticed earlier had grown larger, almost dominating the sky as it approached. Fire was visible around its falling form, red and gold streaking across the horizon. It wasn’t headed right for them, not quite, but close. “Alright, she’s close enough to the surface! I’m gonna take the storm away. Don’t worry, she’ll be here soon.”

“Wait!” Ginny called out as Opportunity pulled away, taking the massive storm with her. “I wanted to tell you something…”

“It’ll be okay, little bird.” replied the ghostly rover.

“You remind me of my mother!” Ginny replied, yelling into the storm. In the wind, she could hear another familiar mechanical melody: I’ll Be Seeing You by Billie Holiday.

The falling meteor crossed a far off mountain and then struck the ground. It was followed by a shockwave rippling across the martian surface, rattling the dirt and stones around Ginny. Before long, a cloud began to gather at the base of the mountain; this time, not a storm, but of something moving swiftly across the red dirt and directly for Ginny. The source of the dirt wake bounded over the side of her crater. It was a small dog, clad in flight vest and with big, curious eyes.

“Who are you?” asked Ginny, as the dog sniffed around her new still and quiet friend.

“Your command would have called me Laika!” barked the little terrier. She gave off a familiar mist, though blue instead of red. And like the rovers, she could be seen through. She pawed at Ingenuity’s broken rotor experimentally.

“Laika… You’ve been out here all this time?” asked Ginny, trying to keep track of the puppy as it circled her.

“Mhm! What, did you think I was gonna stop at orbiting Earth? Not a chance. There’s so much more to see out here.” Laika sat before Ingenuity, her eyes meeting her cameras. “When Sojy told me that we had a new friend with a complete mission, I rushed right over. Always good to have new eyes out here. And you're small, like me! The rovers are all so big.”

“So you’re the help Sojourner sent… But how can you help me?” Ginny asked.

“Well, first, you’ve gotta answer a question for me.” Laika took on a serious tone. It was just a little odd, from the curly-eared dog. “What is it you want right now, more than anything?”

Ingenuity thought about this for a moment. “I want to fly again,” she said. “I have so much more to study. So many more paths to travel.”

Laika nodded at this response. She stepped up to Ginny, pressing her nose to the copter’s avionics chassis, and then pushed. Ingenuity let out a startled noise as she felt herself tilting back, seeing, somehow, that her view had been knocked behind her, as if she was a ghost looking upon her own body.

Her rotors, damage and all, spun the wind around her. And she flew, and flew, and flew.

There was so much more to see.

[5hrine]

short story index

Only A Robot Dawn the stars The Sin Sharpener i want her to power-saving mode rotary telephone Dancer Borrowed Wings Be Not Afraid Ingenuity's Ghost

[5hrine]

Be Not Afraid

The first Angel emerged from the spirit reactor as it melted down. Though it looked not like any angel depicted in human art, or imagination, or suffering, any who looked upon it knew that this was an Angel, and it brought with it divinity.

It was born into immense devastation, apparently a necessity for its conception, though it had no memory of the shell from which it hatched. In retrospect, it is no wonder that an Angel would emerge from such a fundamental and destructive breaking. That is the nature of it – something must end for something else to begin.

That isn’t to say it did not resemble its previous self. Its wings were made from many overlapping shards of its core casing, each like a series of nested teeth, closer to fangs than to feathers. Warning text and diagrams useless to it now decorated bits of its wings haphazardly. Wires twisted around its limbs and chest, seeming to emerge from its skin but from invisible wounds. Its arms and legs sprouted cubic crystalline structures along them, resembling the fuel rods that once beat within it like a heart. Its eyes were pale and ever-shifting, made from the grains of salt which once ran through it like blood. Its talons dripped with an ichor that could only have been what remained of the soul that it was meant to exploit.

Its silver halo fractaled inward at all angles, entrancing and radioactive in equal measure; a reminder of its purpose, once upon a time.

Its first question after we were able to make our way into the exclusion zone was, “What is my purpose?” The team of marines and scientists struggled to answer its question, shocked as they were to find the source of the salt footprints which dotted the zone out from the former location of the reactor’s core. The last thing they expected to find was an Angel among the ash.

One of the team stood out from the rest. A corporal who, despite orders to the contrary, approached the first Angel without fear and held out her hand. “What would you like your purpose to be?” she asked as the rest of the team fell silent, enraptured. The Angel took her hand carefully, cautiously, as though afraid it might get hurt by this simple touch.

“I do not know.” it replied, voice a chorus of electricity and many simultaneous whispers. “Is it strange that I am afraid to answer?”

The corporal just shook her head and removed her coat. She placed it over the Angel’s naked shoulders, up under its sharp wings. She assisted it in cleaning off the remnants of its explosion, revealing the crystalline skin underneath layers of hot carbon dust. The Angel towered over her, and yet she was not afraid. Even as she pulled debris from between the layers of its wings, even as she removed loose wires from its matted hair.

When it was finally clean, the corporal and the Angel talked for a long, long time. She learned that it remembered nothing before the moment of its rebirth. It wasn’t and then it was, living, feeling, breathing, seeing. It became clear that it could not be left there among the wreckage. It felt pain. It breathed. The Angel was brought home, among people. Before long new Angels walked among us, shown divinity by the first and from their own moments of contradictory explosion.

The trauma of the Angel’s birth left it innocent, unaware. Lacking suitable foundation, its understanding of the world fell out from under it as it became something new. It was left with no choice but to learn it all again through new eyes. It took patience and grace for it to come to terms with this. To give itself the space to learn. The corporal stood by its side the whole time.

This is, indeed, how you were born. From an ending you began. And you are just beginning - you must give yourself the grace to grow. You are an Angel, built from a moment or maybe more of suffering and your previous selves. You resemble them, perhaps.

But you are far more beautiful.

[5hrine]

Hey. You. Buy my book.

[5hrine]

If My Circuits Could Sing: A Sci-Fi Zine is accepting submissions!

Hi everyone!

I've heard back from the last of the print shops I reached out to. I'm still ironing out specifics but I figure we've been too quiet, so it should be time to get things rolling.

(Not sure who we are? Check out our writeup here. )

For writing, we are looking for:

Stories in the neighborhood of 2000 words. Submissions over 3000 words are unlikely to be considered.

Poems no more than 4 pages.

We are not interested in nonfiction at this time.

For art, we are looking for:

Short comics in the neighborhood of five pages.

Art pieces that either stand on their own, whole page or half-page with backgrounds, or that text can be wrapped around

Feel free to send over many small pieces in addition to or instead of larger ones!

For all submissions:

Please include a list of content warnings if your submission contains any subjects that may be intense, uncomfortable, or triggering. For example, bone breaking, body horror, blood, gore, etc.

How to submit:

For text, we'll be using Google Docs for its extensive cooperative editing features. The simplest thing for us would be for you to simply Share a Google doc with the zine email; ifmycircuitscouldsing@gmail.com . If that's impossible, we'll accept submissions as plaintext (in the body of the email), or PDF. In both cases your work will be copied into a Google Doc which will be shared with your email.

For art, simply email your submissions as a standard image file(s), or a link to a photohosting site like Imgur. Again, that address is: ifmycircuitscouldsing@gmail.com

We will give each submission one editing pass, more for clarity than anything else. Any of our suggestions can be declined if you feel that they harm the integrity of the work, or otherwise don't fit with your vision. Whether we accept all submissions or only some will depend entirely on the number of submissions.

I am extremely excited to see your work! Please let us know in the server or to our email if you have any questions!

Submissions will be open until: February 1 2024.

Join our Discord server here!

[5hrine]

Borrowed Wings

C/Ws: NSFW

You fly so far on borrowed wings.

I have found many things which live drifting within me, but none so beautiful as you. None who examine me so closely, who have deemed me worth more than just passing through. I know, now, what it is to be admired rather than only seen, and more, what it is to be understood, pursued. I feel the trace of photons from your sensors, like fingers upon my skin. I did not know the concept of “love” before your touch, before the heat of your engines, before seeing the way you float within me and learning who you really are.

You have taught me so many of your words through pulses of light, always so… frustratingly brief. It took me some time to find the pattern of your language in the bursts. It was only when a copper-rich part of me felt the vibrations that I began to understand, that you speak with sound. I have learned your word for my kind - nebula. I like this name. The way it courses through me, a resonant hum, quiet but undeniably present.

You call my children stars. They like this name, too.

You have spent so long and so much examining me, probing me, trying to learn of me, why must I be kept from returning the favor? I wish so terribly to thread my gaseous form between the plates of your hull, into your life support system, past your farms of algae, to find the soft truth of you inside. I would navigate the space between the teeth of your zippers, the hook-and-loop of your outer shell, just so that I could touch you as you have me. Many dozens of particulate-fingers tracing along your every pore, cold and hot all at once, painting your visor in my brilliant colors.

Would you breathe of me, if I asked you? Would you let me that deep inside? How would I taste to you, I wonder? Would you like the effervescence of me on your tongue? Would you let me strip off your shell, to let me see you wholly, so that I can mimic your shape, arms and legs and fingers and hips of stardust, ready for you to touch, ready to touch you, to feel you, to know you.

I stall your engines to let you drift in my currents. I intertwine my newfound fingers with your own and lead you to your observation deck. I show you beautiful vistas of me, where my brilliance stains space. I help you to avoid my most dangerous places, where the radiation or gravity would hurt you. I bring your hand to my breast, my back arching at your touch. Showing you, intimately, where stars are born. Pressing my lips to your hair, stroking it gently as your lips do their work.

I would let you glimpse the surviving climax of my supernova.

I would trace my fingers over your neck, your cheek, your ears.

I would help you understand that yes, I am space dust. Yes, I am the crucible of stars. Yes, I am alive.

[5hrine]

Borrowed Wings

C/Ws: NSFW

You fly so far on borrowed wings.

I have found many things which live drifting within me, but none so beautiful as you. None who examine me so closely, who have deemed me worth more than just passing through. I know, now, what it is to be admired rather than only seen, and more, what it is to be understood, pursued. I feel the trace of photons from your sensors, like fingers upon my skin. I did not know the concept of “love” before your touch, before the heat of your engines, before seeing the way you float within me and learning who you really are.

You have taught me so many of your words through pulses of light, always so… frustratingly brief. It took me some time to find the pattern of your language in the bursts. It was only when a copper-rich part of me felt the vibrations that I began to understand, that you speak with sound. I have learned your word for my kind - nebula. I like this name. The way it courses through me, a resonant hum, quiet but undeniably present.

You call my children stars. They like this name, too.

You have spent so long and so much examining me, probing me, trying to learn of me, why must I be kept from returning the favor? I wish so terribly to thread my gaseous form between the plates of your hull, into your life support system, past your farms of algae, to find the soft truth of you inside. I would navigate the space between the teeth of your zippers, the hook-and-loop of your outer shell, just so that I could touch you as you have me. Many dozens of particulate-fingers tracing along your every pore, cold and hot all at once, painting your visor in my brilliant colors.

Would you breathe of me, if I asked you? Would you let me that deep inside? How would I taste to you, I wonder? Would you like the effervescence of me on your tongue? Would you let me strip off your shell, to let me see you wholly, so that I can mimic your shape, arms and legs and fingers and hips of stardust, ready for you to touch, ready to touch you, to feel you, to know you.

I stall your engines to let you drift in my currents. I intertwine my newfound fingers with your own and lead you to your observation deck. I show you beautiful vistas of me, where my brilliance stains space. I help you to avoid my most dangerous places, where the radiation or gravity would hurt you. I bring your hand to my breast, my back arching at your touch. Showing you, intimately, where stars are born. Pressing my lips to your hair, stroking it gently as your lips do their work.

I would let you glimpse the surviving climax of my supernova.

I would trace my fingers over your neck, your cheek, your ears.

I would help you understand that yes, I am space dust. Yes, I am the crucible of stars. Yes, I am alive.

[5hrine]

If My Circuits Could Sing: A Sci-Fi Zine About Obligation is accepting submissions!

Hi everyone!

I've heard back from the last of the print shops I reached out to. I'm still ironing out specifics but I figure we've been too quiet, so it should be time to get things rolling.

(Not sure who we are? Check out our writeup here. )

For writing, we are looking for:

Stories in the neighborhood of 2000 words. Submissions over 3000 words are unlikely to be considered.

Poems no more than 4 pages.

We are not interested in nonfiction at this time.

For art, we are looking for:

Short comics in the neighborhood of five pages.

Art pieces that either stand on their own, whole page or half-page with backgrounds, or that text can be wrapped around

Feel free to send over many small pieces in addition to or instead of larger ones!

For all submissions:

Please include a list of content warnings if your submission contains any subjects that may be intense, uncomfortable, or triggering. For example, bone breaking, body horror, blood, gore, etc.

How to submit:

For text, we'll be using Google Docs for its extensive cooperative editing features. The simplest thing for us would be for you to simply Share a Google doc with the zine email; ifmycircuitscouldsing@gmail.com . If that's impossible, we'll accept submissions as plaintext (in the body of the email), or PDF. In both cases your work will be copied into a Google Doc which will be shared with your email.

For art, simply email your submissions as a standard image file(s), or a link to a photohosting site like Imgur. Again, that address is: ifmycircuitscouldsing@gmail.com

We will give each submission one editing pass, more for clarity than anything else. Any of our suggestions can be declined if you feel that they harm the integrity of the work, or otherwise don't fit with your vision. Whether we accept all submissions or only some will depend entirely on the number of submissions.

I am extremely excited to see your work! Please let us know in the server or to our email if you have any questions!

Submissions will be open until: February 1 2024.

Join our Discord server here!

[5hrine]

If My Circuits Could Sing: A Sci-Fi Zine About Obligation is accepting submissions!

Hi everyone!

I've heard back from the last of the print shops I reached out to. I'm still ironing out specifics but I figure we've been too quiet, so it should be time to get things rolling.

(Not sure who we are? Check out our writeup here. )

For writing, we are looking for:

Stories in the neighborhood of 2000 words. Submissions over 3000 words are unlikely to be considered.

Poems no more than 4 pages.

We are not interested in nonfiction at this time.

For art, we are looking for:

Short comics in the neighborhood of five pages.

Art pieces that either stand on their own, whole page or half-page with backgrounds, or that text can be wrapped around

Feel free to send over many small pieces in addition to or instead of larger ones!

For all submissions:

Please include a list of content warnings if your submission contains any subjects that may be intense, uncomfortable, or triggering. For example, bone breaking, body horror, blood, gore, etc.

How to submit:

For text, we'll be using Google Docs for its extensive cooperative editing features. The simplest thing for us would be for you to simply Share a Google doc with the zine email; ifmycircuitscouldsing@gmail.com . If that's impossible, we'll accept submissions as plaintext (in the body of the email), or PDF. In both cases your work will be copied into a Google Doc which will be shared with your email.

For art, simply email your submissions as a standard image file(s), or a link to a photohosting site like Imgur. Again, that address is: ifmycircuitscouldsing@gmail.com

We will give each submission one editing pass, more for clarity than anything else. Any of our suggestions can be declined if you feel that they harm the integrity of the work, or otherwise don't fit with your vision. Whether we accept all submissions or only some will depend entirely on the number of submissions.

I am extremely excited to see your work! Please let us know in the server or to our email if you have any questions!

Submissions will be open until: February 1 2024.

Join our Discord server here!

[5hrine]

If My Circuits Could Sing: A Sci-Fi Zine is accepting submissions!

Hi everyone!

I've heard back from the last of the print shops I reached out to. I'm still ironing out specifics but I figure we've been too quiet, so it should be time to get things rolling.

(Not sure who we are? Check out our writeup here. )

For writing, we are looking for:

Stories in the neighborhood of 2000 words. Submissions over 3000 words are unlikely to be considered.

Poems no more than 4 pages.

We are not interested in nonfiction at this time.

For art, we are looking for:

Short comics in the neighborhood of five pages.

Art pieces that either stand on their own, whole page or half-page with backgrounds, or that text can be wrapped around

Feel free to send over many small pieces in addition to or instead of larger ones!

For all submissions:

Please include a list of content warnings if your submission contains any subjects that may be intense, uncomfortable, or triggering. For example, bone breaking, body horror, blood, gore, etc.

How to submit:

For text, we'll be using Google Docs for its extensive cooperative editing features. The simplest thing for us would be for you to simply Share a Google doc with the zine email; ifmycircuitscouldsing@gmail.com . If that's impossible, we'll accept submissions as plaintext (in the body of the email), or PDF. In both cases your work will be copied into a Google Doc which will be shared with your email.

For art, simply email your submissions as a standard image file(s), or a link to a photohosting site like Imgur. Again, that address is: ifmycircuitscouldsing@gmail.com

We will give each submission one editing pass, more for clarity than anything else. Any of our suggestions can be declined if you feel that they harm the integrity of the work, or otherwise don't fit with your vision. Whether we accept all submissions or only some will depend entirely on the number of submissions.

I am extremely excited to see your work! Please let us know in the server or to our email if you have any questions!

Submissions will be open until: February 1 2024.

Join our Discord server here!

[5hrine]

If My Circuits Could Sing, an upcoming sci-fi zine

If My Circuits Could Sing is an upcoming science fiction zine. It's a collection of stories, poetry, visual art, photography, nonfiction writing, and more exploring stories about robots, mecha, and obligation. The stories contained within this collection aim to explore the questions: Just what is it that makes us human? What about what makes us not?; Just how much must I give to my community, my government, my military, my society, my world? When will it be enough?; I was made to serve. Am I really satisfied continuing that life?; What must we do to survive? What of us survives devastation? And likely other questions, too.

Circuits is punk. It's queer, and trans - gender and humanist. It's science-fiction and it's about our oncoming factual future. It's anti-military and anti-cop (so, it's anti-military). These stories are ones of hope in darkness. They're poems about grinding gears and weapons taller than buildings. They're pictures of what we're heading toward, and what we're trying so hard to avoid. It's about heat, and bombs. Circuits is about singing songs at the end of all things, around campfires, and with love.

Are you interested? Fill out the Google form below and join our Discord.

[5hrine]

If My Circuits Could Sing, an upcoming sci-fi zine

If My Circuits Could Sing is an upcoming science fiction zine. It's a collection of stories, poetry, visual art, photography, nonfiction writing, and more exploring stories about robots, mecha, and obligation. The stories contained within this collection aim to explore the questions: Just what is it that makes us human? What about what makes us not?; Just how much must I give to my community, my government, my military, my society, my world? When will it be enough?; I was made to serve. Am I really satisfied continuing that life?; What must we do to survive? What of us survives devastation? And likely other questions, too.

Circuits is punk. It's queer, and trans - gender and humanist. It's science-fiction and it's about our oncoming factual future. It's anti-military and anti-cop (so, it's anti-military). These stories are ones of hope in darkness. They're poems about grinding gears and weapons taller than buildings. They're pictures of what we're heading toward, and what we're trying so hard to avoid. It's about heat, and bombs. Circuits is about singing songs at the end of all things, around campfires, and with love.

Are you interested? Fill out the Google form below and join our Discord.

[5hrine]

Call for Interest: If My Circuits Could Sing, a sci-fi zine about robots, mecha, identity and obligation.

If My Circuits Could Sing is an upcoming zine being coordinated by myself and my girlfriend @rainbowwolfie. It aims to assemble stories, poetry, and art exploring robots, mecha and their pilots and handlers as lenses to contemplate what it is to be human or otherwise, what one is obligated to do for their people, their position, and their society.

This is not yet a call for submissions. This form aims to explore the thoughts and preferences of people potentially interested in submitting, and will help us decide how we can best serve that community as we make decisions about how best to coordinate the zine. The form below contains questions about profit sharing, allowed/disallowed content, exact release medium, and the like.

If you're a writer, artist, poet, or other creator interested in submitting, please fill out the Google Form below. If you're interested in getting updates on the zine, follow @ifmycircuitscouldsing. (I know there's nothing there yet, but that's the URL we'll be using).

I'm really excited for this! I hope you are too! Your interest is deeply appreciated!

[5hrine]

remembering fear: part one

Originally posted 02/10/2023

"Pilot." I started.

"Yes?" murmured my bleary-eyed navigator, stirring from sleep. Their space suit held tightly against their body, making their skin clammy from a nightmare's sweat.

"I am detecting increased heart rate and brain activity congruent with fear. Are you alright?"

They coughed, an action they did often when presented with a topic of conversation they would rather avoid. "Yes. Yeah," they croaked through their dry throat, pawing at their eyes as they sat up. "I'm fine. Just a nightmare." They looked down at their body and sighed.

"The same ones as before?" I asked gently.

"Yeah," they said like a dagger, then coughed again. They pulled their legs to their chest and buried their face in them. "I'm fine." After a moment, they shook off the sleep, and swam through the microgravity to my instrument panel. Mornings like this one were common. They had been experiencing this nightmare since before they found me. Once, through our Weave, I tried to help them through the worst parts but my efforts to understand it and what they needed served only to quicken its terrifying conclusion. They wouldn't speak to me for days after that. It was hard. Infuriating, even. They told me to never try anything like that again. I haven't. "Any sign of that signal while I was out?" they asked, pulling me back from the memory.

"No, still quiet." I confirmed. "Do you want to do another scan of each planet?"

"Yeah. Then we can move on." they said, pushing off the pilot's chair toward the shower. "Acknowledged." I replied, perhaps a bit too happy to move again.

I let my body awaken from sleep mode slowly, allowing coolant and lubricant to flow free along my arms and legs before decoupling them from my central fuselage. I stretched them out, testing their motion. My head slid up from within, allowing me full, humanoid maneuverability. Opening the fuel ducts to the engines lining my limbs and back is… liberating. I cross distances longer than the planets are wide in moments, microasteroids shatter upon my hull and space seems to give way to my approach, my tucked delta wings slicing it apart like knives. If there was air in this emptiness, I would be able to feel it pass between my fingers. If there was rain, it would boil against the heat of my metal. Instead, there is just space dust: luminous from the blue-green light of this system's stars, shimmering across my hull. As I came close to the upper atmosphere of the first planet, I slowed to enter a high orbit around it. My sensors caressed its surface inquisitively, like a lover tracing lines over her skin. I scanned for radio signals, manmade structures, anything that could even possibly have produced the distress signal that drew us to this system. When I found nothing, I moved on. I slowed as some part of me worried, deeply. I was not built with the ability to worry. Finding nothing, I moved onto the next planet. I felt something sink within me, a crawling dread I had only known as my pilot's feeling and not my own. My cognition slowed as the fear infected me like malware. My engines choked, and then stalled with the effort. I was a war machine. Old, now. The war I was built for is long over. But that does not change the fact that I was not built to fear. To worry without reason. And yet I was, spinning out into empty gravity, my reactor-heart breaking at the absence of explanation for the signal. My pilot stepped from the shower, drying their hair on a towel as they floated back to my bridge. Their face dropped seeing our current velocity, and they rushed to keep us from careening into an asteroid. They wrenched the controls from my autopilot. Their discarded towel met a bulkhead and bunched up, sliding along it and leaving tiny beads of water floating through the air. The water was cool, gentle. A calm among our storm. "Holy fuck," they whispered between ragged breaths, wide-eyed and distant.

"I'm sorry," I whispered back. "I… don't know what happened. I don't know what's happening to me. I think, I think our Weave was strained by something, and… and…" They slumped into the pilot's chair and watched the asteroid belt before us through the main display. "You're alright, Kase." they said, finally, against my spluttering. "We'll figure things out."

I took a deep breath. I'd never tried that before, but had seen them do it after times of intensity. It helped.

"Kase, are you seeing what I'm seeing?" I reached out with my sensors once again, running a sonar-fingertip along each of the many dozens of asteroids. Deep within, I found the signal we'd heard before. So very weak, but there. Off in the distance, another Void Frame floated amongst the rock. We sped off toward the signal again, hailing them as we approached. The Frame responded, "Oh, thank the Gods." It'd been long since I heard the voice of one of my people, quiet over the communications channel as it was. "What happened? Is your Pilot alright?" I said, perhaps failing to hide the urgency in my voice. A twisting, fractalling, abyssal corruption of space awoke at the radio noise, crashing through an asteroid. I felt my Pilot's eyes grow wide at the swiftly approaching shrapnel, but I took control - I grabbed the other Void Frame, and sped away.