Derelict space station orbiting a distant star, a decaying leviathan of metal whose every course correction sets it groaning and creaking. A skeleton crew, who is fighting tirelessly to maintain the station's precarious orbit.
After years in the void, Earth had become a mere whisper in their dreams, a distant memory.
They set their equipment and brace for the impending storm. The star’s corona erupts a maddeningly blue radiance, and mysterious Visitors with hauntingly familiar faces appear aboard.
*
You light a cigarette, too bored to care if the Captain would notice and start one of her endless speeches about health and safety protocols. You slip on the headset, tuning the receiver to another frequency with the mechanical familiarity born of endless repetition. White noise, just like a thousand times before.
Then a faint melody fills the room, coming seemingly out of nowhere, and your heart sinks. She had chosen that song for your wedding all those years ago. Tears, hovering weightlessly in zero-g, glisten like tiny constellations.
Suddenly the shriek of a station-wide alarm startles you wide awake. Radiation readings are wild, the star somehow shifted its entire emission spectrum to a maddeningly blue hue. The station rumbles and groans like a multitude of suffering souls are roaming its corridors.
A warm, familiar, impossible hand rests on your shoulder.
"Don’t be afraid, my love," she whispers. "It’s just the wind in the trees"
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