Eashana knew, to the core of her being, that something was wrong. Her sisters were never this silent. But as she drifted towards the airlock, silence echoing in her ears, she also knew that they might not survive this disaster even if they worked together.
From the Night is a SF story of family, history and facing danger when your home becomes the greatest threat to your survival.
From the Night
By Meyari McFarland
Eashana licked her lips. Maalai’s green curry tingled on her tongue, mixing with the sweat and stink of fear that filled Eashana’s helmet. Static echoed in her ears. The faint rasp of the universe’s birth curdled its way down to her stomach, sending acid burning up Eashana’s throat.
Too quiet. Her sisters were far too quiet. The glory of the nebula around them, baby stars burning bright here and there, planetesimals forming as they slowly swept like giant mining ships through their orbits, gathering debris to their bosoms, lurked in the back of her mind. They were hidden here from rivals, yes, but they were also trapped if anything went wrong. Or she was. Would be. Could be. Why weren’t her sisters answering?
She tapped the jet, carefully reorienting herself to match the airlock, slowly drifting closer, closer. No quip about wasting her jet fuel came over the hissing comms. Eashana clenched her teeth while holding her limbs loose, easy. No flailing. No shouting. It would only spiral her out of control, away from her destination.
“Come on,” Eashana whispered. “Say something, Saashi.”
Silence. How many times had she prayed to their grandmother’s Hindu gods for silence while she worked? Eashana couldn’t count. She regretted every single instance now. Where was Maalai, complaining about work interrupting her precious cooking? There should be grumbles from the engine room as Saashi worked to fix the minor quirks of their old ship’s engine, the scratch of her nails against her perpetually buzzed hair echoing through the comms.
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