Godspeed, Spaulding

By Olivia Gratehouse    

The void stretched before Spark, black flecked with silver, like glitter. The recycled air stuck in his chest as he took it all in—millions upon millions of uncharted stars, floating farther than anyone had ever gone before. Each was a new world to explore, the possibilities more than he could have dreamed.

Yet that dream hung just outside Spark’s reach, and he jolted back to reality as a crackle rose from his suit’s intercom.

“Spaulding! Get your sorry tail back in here this instant!”

His cue to move! Ensuring the hatch was secure, Spark gripped the handrails for dear life and crawled up the side of the ship’s hull. Zero-G made the climb easy, but he’d had no time to fasten a tether, and so kept his pace slow. He didn’t feel like hurtling into empty space today.

Didn’t stop him from grinning like an idiot, though.

“Oh, Veronica,” he crooned. “You know I’d just love to return to my cell and live the rest of my life under those beautiful, watchful eyes of yours, but I’m afraid this is where we must say adieu!”

“Don’t be a fool!” the security chief cried. “The odds of you reaching that ship are near impossible!”

Spark just laughed. “Odds were never my issue.”

He startled as chatter on the line confirmed his biggest fear: A security team was cycling the airlock, hot on his trail. A note of panic sliced through his chest. They were responding faster than he’d anticipated.

Heart hammering, Spark crested the side of the ship and clambered on top. Clutching the rail, he sauntered forward, pulling himself hand over hand across the ship’s hull.

“I’ll make you a deal, Veronica. You let me go, I promise never to return, and you never have to see my face again! Everyone’s happy!”

The security chief sniffed. “Tempting as it is, you still have fourteen years on your prison sentence. I can’t let you escape.”

Spark’s chest tightened, but he fought back against the panic. “That’s fourteen years too long,” he whispered. Fourteen years to sit, to stagnate, to rot in an empty, narrow cell? He’d rather die.

The security team’s chatter intensified as they worked on the hatch, but the ship was small, and soon Spark reached the other side. The derelict freighter was right in front of him—visible only by the Starship Purgatory’s lights. Spark sucked in a breath through his teeth.

This was it. This old abandoned ship was good for nothing but scrap now, and the Purgatory hadn’t even deemed it worthy of salvage. Yet it was intact, and that was all Spark needed.

“Spaulding,” Veronica begged. “There’s no way to know if that ship is even functional! It’s been floating in space for God knows how long. And if you miss? You’ll go hurtling into space—forever!”

Spark could almost feel his body tumbling end over end, falling forever through that great empty void. The mental image made him shudder, and he nearly lost his nerve.

“Listen to me—”

“No, you listen, Veronica!” Spark’s voice was hoarse as he cut her off, struggling to hold it together. “You ever feel like the void beyond the stars is only matched in size by the void inside yourself?” He put a hand against his chest, pressing hard until he could feel it beneath the space suit. “It eats and eats and eats and is never satisfied. It consumes you, body, mind, and soul, until it feels like the whole universe is imploding.”

His breath clouded the helmet, and Spark desperately wished to wipe his brow. He waited for Veronica to counter, but for the first time he could remember, she remained silent.

“If I stay in one place too long,” he continued, “that void eats me from the inside out.”

A click and a whoosh informed Spark the airlock door was open.

Slowly, knees shaking, he pushed himself up until he was standing straight. He felt vibrations as the security team scrambled up the ship’s side.

“All I’ve ever known to do was run,” Spark said. “Run as far and as fast as I can until maybe, just maybe, I can outrun the void—find that little glimmer of peace somewhere I can call my own.”

The security team was racing toward him now. They must have had time for tethers…

Spark took a sharp breath and reeled back.

“Hold it right there!” one of the officers cried.

“Wait!” Veronica shouted.

Spark jumped and he was floating.

Falling.

Tumbling weightless through the nothing.

And just before the comms went dead, Veronica’s voice crackled once more over the line. “Godspeed, Spaulding. I hope you can outrun that void.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Olivia Gratehouse was a homeschooler who read too many stories. Now she’s a homeschool art teacher with too many stories to tell. Her love for robots and monsters led her to prefer stories that challenge stereotypes and offer unique perspectives. When she isn’t writing, Olivia can be found gaming or creating art with too much color. She lives in Oklahoma with her family.

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