Adrift

Beautiful terror.

That's the best way I could describe it. Only moments ago, the steady rumbling of thrusters was a comforting sign of normalcy – so constant that I almost didn't notice when they stopped. But when I did, the silence was deafening. My spaceship was out of fuel.

I ran over to the instrument panel, fiddling in vain with switches and levers, hoping against hope to eke out just a little more thrust. Just enough to course correct and maybe still land on the next planet instead of speeding right past it. Nothing happened. Perhaps there was an emergency fuel reserve? A large display sat over the instrument panel, with a worn plastic mouse sitting on a felt pad nearby. I clicked and scrolled through every fuel-related page I could find, trying to remember my training and stay calm, even as my eyes darted desperately across the screen. There it was. Information on the emergency fuel cell. I nearly let out a shout of relief before I noticed the word next to it: Empty.

I'd already burned through it.

I leaned against the left side of the ship and let myself slowly slide down the thick glass wall, letting reality set in. The first man chosen to explore a distant solar system, and I was about to crash helplessly into its sun. Even worse, no one would know. My comms had cut out almost immediately after flying through the wormhole. My disappearance would be the mystery of the decade. I almost felt guilty as I realized how much of a setback this would be to the space program, but then again, they obviously needed more time to plan trips like these.

There was no sound at all in space, other than my panicked shallow breathing. I wondered what I looked like from outside – just a tiny white canister, immediately noticeable against the pitch-black backdrop. I knew from the pilot display that I was hurtling along at thousands of miles per hour, but it was hard to tell. Even the alien sun, my eventual landing place, seemed fixed in place, never growing closer, taunting me with its brilliant red flames. There were worse ways to go, at least. Missing the sun would mean I'd stay alive until I ran out of food and water – a fate I didn't even want to think about. The silent inky blackness was oddly tranquil, even to my racing heart. Maybe the lack of an atmosphere made me feel like I was already somehow closer to heaven. I stood up and looked through the windshield, determined to take it all in.

Time lost all meaning after that, and whether it was an hour or a day later, I can't say for sure. But I eventually stood in the same place, as a fiery red glow filled the entire window and the heat alarms flashed red warning lights. I closed my eyes in somber acceptance of the future.

A space explorer till the end.