Lighthouse

By Abigail Falanga

Some posts were lonelier than anywhere else in the universe.

The lighthouse at the edge of the Black Nebula was loneliest of all.

It existed literally in the middle of nowhere. Near no star systems. Out of the way of everything except a backroad intergalactic freightway that hardly anyone took anymore, unless the cargo wasn’t stable enough to portal-jump. But when such cargo was too valuable to ignore, there the route was, the lighthouse ensuring its safety.

A solitary beacon, suspended just out of range of the Nebula. Pulsing a warning alert to anyone fool enough to get too close. Manned by an engineer to ensure its continued operational efficiency.

It was small. Just enough to house four comfortably, though it could handle up to ten human-sized beings temporarily. Normally, the Atormovar Transit Authority assigned a family to mitigate the months of isolation. But not this time.

Ramsay was alone.

Just the way he liked it.

He had regular rounds of maintenance, bookkeeping, and status reports. A comforting routine: artificial day in, artificial day out, quiet and with nothing to interrupt the thoughts. Or to trigger memories of the accident.

They’d asked if he wanted a friend along, or even a non-sentient animal as a companion. He’d refused. Told ‘em he needed time to come to terms with what had happened. They hadn’t believed him, and he didn’t care. So what if he was running away from his problems? They paid him… well, a pittance, really. But the view was worth it.

Ramsay passed a wide port on his rounds and stopped to take it all in. The Black Nebula lay just beyond, invisible to most ships’ sensors and flickering just within the range of naked-eye vision—a cloud of deep red and purple curling tendrils that drew in anything that got too close, then crushed and devoured it. Stories told of space cruisers, freighters, and expedition vessels by the score, lost to the opaque mass.

Still, it was beautiful. Though most didn’t get near enough to notice without paying with their lives.

Stories told of other things out there, too, but Ramsay didn’t—

“Warning!” A pulse coursed through the lighthouse, triggering a text alert on his wrist monitor. “Manned object proximity. Ship ignoring all hails.”

Ramsay pushed away from the port and sprinted for the control center, the artificial gravity lending his steps an unnatural spring he barely noticed.

Sure enough—an exo-class freighter was dangerously near the Nebula’s magnetic draw. Looked like it had sustained recent damage; maybe that was why it wasn’t answering hails. Still, maybe a human touch…

His fingers flew across the keyboard: “Freighter, you are nearing the Black Nebula. Adjust course immediately.”

No response.

“Freighter, do you copy?”

There was a vibration—the faintest read of an open channel on the sensors.

“C’mon, guys, back off.” Ramsay could see them now without magnification on the viewscreen. He adjusted until the line on the faint signal was clearer and tried again: “Freighter, do you copy? This is Black Nebula Lighthouse. Adjust course immediately.”

“Pirates on the freightway…” At last! A message came through, faint but clearly articulated enough to show up on his screen. “Damage… Course correction to avoid the pirate attack…”

“Freighter, adjust course to headings I send.”

“Black Nebula…” The response was quick this time. “…beautiful.”

They would sail right by him in a minute, cutting it far too close, or… Or were they intentionally headed straight for the Nebula? “Freighter, can you read me? Is something wrong with your communications?”

“Negative. They’re working fine… full up. Receiving your signal. Can’t you hear it? Beautiful. They’re beautiful.”

A cold shiver ran down Ramsay’s spine.

The stories told of creatures that lived in the emptiness around the Nebula. Creatures that feasted on what it drew in—on what they drew in. What if…?

“Freighter, adjust your course and turn off audio communications!”

“Negative, lighthouse. Beautiful…”

Ramsay swore. They’d be at their nearest approach soon—near enough for him to reach in his shuttle.

“I don’t get paid enough for this,” he muttered and ran for the airlock.

He saw nothing amiss until he docked at the freighter’s port. No one welcomed him, so he forced the doors open and ran for the bridge through an empty, damaged corridor.

Well…not totally empty. A woman stood at a corner, head cocked, a glazed expression on her face. Beyond, two more crewmen, one ignoring a bleeding leg. None of them paid any attention to him.

He reached the bridge. The crew stood at their stations, stock still, faces blank and ecstatic, craned forward as if to catch even the slightest sound.

Something moved at the port window. Ramsay squinted at the vague shape until it came into focus. It was the deep, rich purple of the Nebula—but in solid, nearly human forms. Three of them, staring, their mouths open as if in song.

Ramsay only allowed himself to stare for an instant. Comms. He had to find the comms!

There.

He slammed against them, turning off all audio, then quickly adjusted the heading. The freighter lurched and groaned, making a sharp turn away from the Nebula.

Outside, the creatures’ lovely faces broke into rage as the exo-class sheared off. Ramsay waved them off with a smirk.

A hand grabbed his shoulder. He turned and found himself face-to-face with the captain. His eyes were bloodshot and his uniform, rumpled, but he wore an awful expression of awareness, shouting something along the lines of “What just happened?” but with more expletives.

“Space sirens,” Ramsay typed, his wrist monitor translating into sound. “I’d heard of them but didn’t believe they were real. They send distress signals, then channel hypnotic song through comms to draw ships into the Nebula, where they can feast.”

The captain gaped. “How were you not affected?”

Ramsay shrugged, texting his reply. “Lost my hearing in an accident a couple years ago. Their song didn’t stand a chance with me.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Abigail Falanga may be found in New Mexico creating magic in many ways – with fabric, food, paper, music, and especially with words! She’s loved fantasy ever since playing out epic adventures of swords, fairies, and monsters with her siblings, and loved sci-fi since her dad’s stories around the dinner table. Besides sharing mad little stories on Havok, she is busily trying to launch approximately five hundred novels into the world. Some of them are even finished!

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