Young Writers Society

Shaun; 6:00 PM; Lounge on the xx Demeter

It didn't take long to drum up some interest in the card games; during the first hour alone, no less than four tables had to be pushed together to accomodate the increase in players. Shaun was pretty sure that almost everyone who wasn't sick, tending to the sick, working on the ship's mechaincs or an officer, was right there in the room with him. They'd made their way through every card game Shaun knew, and a few he didn't, volunteered by other crew members. At first, they'd played in pairs or rotated play so that some sat out while others took their turn. But by now, the group was splitting off into those content to watch and the hard-core players.

There was something lacking in the conversation. A dry, almost stale feel clung to the air and Shaun wasn't quite sure that he liked the playing better than he'd liked being in his room. But at least here he had company.

"I'm sticking," said a man who'd been doing pretty well so far. He had a smooth face, good for poker, and whenever he picked up a card, his back stayed perfectly straight and his hand would carefully slide it all the way off the table and then lift it up to rest against his fingers with the others.

"Hit me," said the next along, a female pilot who had the worst of luck but seemed to relish playing more than any other. Shaun dealt her a card. She picked it up and scrutinised it hard. "Hit me again." Shaun dealt her another and after looking at that one, her face twitched a little and she put her cards down, face up with a quiet huff of frustration. She was bust.

There was just Shaun left to deal to now so he took a card for himself and checked his hand again. 20. That might just be a winning score. "Sticking," Shaun said. And they turned their cards open and the man with the good poker face had 21. Shaun gave him the biggest smile he could force - it still seemed so hard to smile - and started to draw the cards back in. He could sense that there were going to be some very long and lonely days ahead of them. Maybe he should just ask permission to open his bar again.

Roan Chbosky | The Halls | XX Demeter

“Roan.” Isaac’s voice was tight, pulled seamless by stress or paranoia; something was wrong—too wrong even for their condition—to distress him this greatly. Roan turned on his heels, his back to the composite steel of the barricaded helm of the ship. “Roan, something’s coming.”

“Coming?” The roguish captain raised an eyebrow as his commander, hair disheveled and bags under his eyes, approached.

“Yes,” he said, and drew close to Roan, holding a small handheld in front of them that displayed hazy data. “We couldn’t get a visual, but from the readings, it’s mechanical.” There was something there, in his voice—something vibrant and dimly hopeful.

“Get everyone to the gala hall. Keep them there with no exceptions.”

“But Roan—“

“That’s an order.” Roan cut his eyes down to Isaac’s and shook his head. “We can’t trust anything at this point, Isaac. Barely even ourselves.” Isaac slowly nodded, and Roan locked eyes with him. “Put Logan in charge of the civilians. You and I will hesitantly meet this thing on the dispatch deck.”

Isaac nodded again. “Should I bring a pilot or two for analysis?”

“Yes. Find McQuinn and—“ Roan turned as another pilot—Rachell—slumped up the hall, face glum and distraught. “Find McQuinn.”

Isaac saluted him with a shaky hand and turned to leave, leaving just Roan and Rachell in the hall. “Captain,” she said, her eyes sunken in like craters on the moon. “There’s been another suicide.”

Roan let his breath escape, a low, transient tug at the base of his heart. It was horrific to think of how desensitized he had become to such a tragedy, to a death of one of the sparse members of his family. “I’m sorry to hear that, Burgess.” Roan shook his head. “But there are, unfortunately, more pressing matters at hand.”

The slim captain nodded his head towards the closed-off helm and Rachell followed him. Once they were inside the desolate room, the door slid shut behind them. She seemed nervous, tense regarding the situation even more than the suicide or the pressing business or anything else that had trampled on their dying family. But her eyes remained locked in Roan’s, and he stayed silent for a moment. It wasn’t an exercise in power; it was the conveyance of humanity, a reminder that mortality and compassion hadn’t been forgotten. “This is classified material, Rachell.” Roan’s glare intensified, and Rachell slowly nodded. “I trust your prowess and expertise after your bravery in saving my own life, so I’ve chosen you and McQuinn for something particularly important.”

Roan looked to the side, out over the helm where he could once view the gasp of space, littered by extravagant arrays of purples and reds and dotted by brilliant spheres.

“What is it, Captain?”

But there was just space-age metal in its place. There was nothing for Roan to muse after, to dream of. There was no mystery to the steel.

His voice was strained, pulled taut like the weathered strings of a violin. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he spoke: “A spacecraft is fast approaching.” He paused, the brush of that dark reality flaying the flesh of his heart. “We are unsure if it is a friend or foe.” His eyes closed, taking him through the ravages of time, back to his first day of departure, of the last kiss he shared with Natalie, back to the days when there was hope and promise, when there was destiny. He opened his eyes and turned to Rachell, staring with his power-grey eyes into her own. “You and McQuinn must be ready to fight for your families, to die for your comrades.”

Rachell stayed silent, her breath receding into her chest. Roan could see it all compacting into one extravagant pain, a tangible, spiked sphere in her heart.

“Be ready,” he said. “Be ready.”

Hayden McQuinn: Outside His Quarters - 6:10 pm - On Board The XX Demeter

Just as Hayden had finally calmed down and was heading into his room, Isaac ran up to him breathlessly. Letting the man catch up breath he waited.

Eventually Isaac announced, "Roan --- I mean Captain Chbosky wants you and Rachell to go on a mission."

Hayden took one fleeting look at his room before sighing, "Okay, I'll just be there."

Isaac didn't leave, "He meant now."

Sighing Hayden considered punching Isaac, but it was unfair the guy was only doing his duty, "Right, I'll follow you then I guess."

Nodding they made their way up the once boisterous halls now deathly silent, you could practically hear a pin drop through these passages. And for the people outside of quarters most didn't even register them passing, merely looked before dropping head mournfully. The ship was in a bad way, morale had hit rock bottom -- so why would he and Rachell be required to do a mission now?

At one point the ship had been alive, but no matter what area they passed, they glanced the same dead expressions, the same empty silence and the same soulless automatons. It really didn't look like they'd survive, finally Isaac broke the thought, "Hayden, do you think we're going to survive."

The first thought Isaac had was no, but he chose to lie, "Roan will work out something, I promise."

Finally they came the fighter bay. Rachell saw him and turned away quickly her eyes betraying her feeling in that second.

Looking rather uneasy, Isaac replied, "Roan will be here in a bit."

With that they were left alone.

Rachell Burgess |

Rachell cringed inwardly the second Hayden had wandered into the room. This was quite honestly the last thing she felt like dealing with right now. In her defense, the man was only clouding up her mind and making clear thinking nearly impossible.

"So... gotta love deja vu." Hayden suggested, grinning crookedly, "So how do we go out this time Rachell as enemies or now more?"

Rachell looked up, eyes narrowed. "Neither." Her answer didn't even make sense to her, but she would keep it.


"You realize that makes no sense?"

She frowned, looking away again. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice, but yes I do." Why did Isaac have to leave? she wondered, suppressing the urge to sigh. If he had stayed, Hayden might be laying off right now.

"What- what do you mean 'what now?'" she demanded, voice trembling slightly. He was too close for her likings, and it was making her even more nervous than she had been before.

"Perhaps I should ask what do you want Rach...?"

She took a deep breath and turned around to look Hayden directly in the eye. No more chickening out. "I want this to be over. I want to be able to think clearly and focus on whatever mission I'm supposed to go on without having you clouding every thought in my head." True, even if she had worded it a little... oddly. In her mind, she found herself brave for that last statement. It had taken more guts to say it than one may think.

"You kissed me Rachell, I never did anything except get annoyed."

A blush crept up into her cheeks, but no matter how much she wanted to look away, she wouldn't allow it. "I only kissed you to get you to shut up and to prove a point." A flat-out lie and she knew it, but it would have to do until she could think up a better story.

He laughed kind of meanly, "Yes Rach great cover-up, you kissed me because I was going to abandon you forever."

Rachell's face paled, the blush completely gone. "Go rot somewhere, would you?" she hissed, averting her gaze to her hand, which she itched at absently. Anything to avoid the eye-contact she had once been intent on keeping.

Where was Roan, anyways? Heck, an enemy alien would be better company at the moment, as far as Rachell was concerned. Okay, so that's a bit of overkill. Hayden's annoying, but at least he won't shoot me or devour my flesh. Hopefully.

Sighing his eyes lowered, "This what it has come to... we pretend nothing happens after it did...

She let her hands drop to her sides, not saying anything for a few moments. Finally, she managed to squeeze something out. "I'm not saying nothing happened, Hayden... but we have bigger things to worry about now, don't you think? It doesn't matter what did or didn't happen." To her, it was probably the most honest thing she had said all day.

Was that it then? After all of this was over, assuming it ended before she ended up dead, would she really be willing to try a serious relationship again? And why, pray, was she able to think of this now of all times? It was absolutely ridiculous...

Nodding sadly, Hayden walked up to her, and before she could even protest, he leant in to kiss her, whispering, "You're the light that keeps this darkness lit."

There was something impossibly soothing about those words... Rachell cursed herself mentally, but she didn't shove him away. It was the second stupidest thing she had ever done, right after kissing him in the first place, but no, she would let him have one more kiss. What was the harm in--

The door slid open, and now, Rachell really did jump back. Roan couldn't have returned two minutes ago, could he? She stepped back from Hayden quickly, straightening out, avoiding eye-contact at all costs. If her cheeks had been red before, they were over-cooked tomatoes now.

Great. The most inappropriate possible time to be kissing him... and what do I do? She cleared her throat awkwardly, praying that Roan would let this one slide.