- A Fat Bell End
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- Senior Member
Halo: Haunted II (Working Title)
The flash of light was blinding; more brilliant than the glare of a thousand suns. Cruz hung weightless and terrified at the sight of Sigma station; his final beacon of salvation, as it was rent in two, it's delicate framework dissipating into wisps of molted slag, the thin halos of the station proper spiraling into the atmosphere of the gas giant below, spinning lazily until their collision with the planet's immense gravity well shattered their delicate arcs like so much glass.
Cruz looked around, desperate, delusional from an air recycler that had reached capacity hours ago. Moments ago a column of ghostly light had appeared, cutting a swath through the stars before him. He watched, mortified, as it made it's way implacably toward the station, no longer just a speck upon Epsilon B's terminator, but a real, tangible structure looming just beyond his grasp.
And then it was nothing.
He thought of Mendoza and the others, hurtling toward the station as he departed the ship, and prayed that somehow they had missed their mark.
It was a long shot. He shook his head morosely. Dooley was too damned good a pilot. The whole crew was probably cycling the airlock, celebrating Dooley's heroic approach when it hit.
Not that it mattered. Even if they had escaped the station, there wasn't anywhere to go. He eyed the massive gas giant below, it's surface glowing a venomous orange, it's sheath of clouds boiling in a perpetual, planetary storm...
They sure as hell weren't setting her down there, he mused bitterly.
He was defeated, they all were. Thoughts of his crew, his friends, just vanishing into a flash of white hot light... It was too much to bear.
He was alone, hanging amid billions of lethal particles of hard radiation, his air supply dwindling... but the worst part of it was that there really was no hope. No hope for rescue, no hope that his friends had somehow made it out alive. No solace even in knowing that their mission had succeeded; that somebody, anybody might have benefited from their demise.
And it was cold.
He peered out of his visor, the light of the stars around flaring through layers of rime frosting it's glass... And then he saw it.
Out of the corner of his eye, a tiny blinking light refracted onto the inner face of his visor. He had lived with it for so long that he had ceased to notice it's presence, yet nevertheless, there it was, winking it's illimitable amber pulse. It was so simple, he wanted to laugh aloud. From the moment their fuel had gone bunk, the amount of planning, scheming, hoping against any hope for a way to escape this terrible predicament... and here was the answer, mounted mere centimeters away from his own two eyes!
His fingers clumsy with the cold, Cruz punched a series of numbers into his wrist's Tacpad, and sighed a breath of relief as the light faded to nothing.
Like the station. Like his crew.
He s-blam!-ed at the juvenile poeticism, even as it flashed through his mind.
Then, with another sigh of relief, he heard the faint hum of his air recyclers fade to silence, and with it a burden seemed to lift from his shoulders. With the press of a button he sealed his fate, and it's immovable finality was more liberating than he had ever imagined it could be. With the simple press of a button, his struggle to live; to scrap and fight interminably against the inevitable every waking second of every single day of his life...
It wouldn't be long. Even as the final epiphany raced through his mind, the stars about him began to wheel, the universe dazzling to his oxygen-deprived brain.
But it was more than that, he knew. For the first time in his life, he was looking at the world through new eyes; the stars, the multitudes of spinning galaxies, the entire universe seemed to shine with a luminescence of it's very own.
An elation swept over him as death approached. For the first and final time, it would be he that approached death, not the other way around. No longer would he fear death, and continually flee from it's clutches, but embrace it as a friend.
It would be a good death, Cruz decided.
And as the thought broached his consciousness, the brilliance of the universe began to fade. The stars were replaced with a descending darkness, a darkness blacker than the vacuum it's self.
This was it, death was moments away. If he turned on his recyclers now there still wouldn't be time enough to turn back.
All the better.
He looked up, dazzled by the wheeling stars, surprised to see several of them... He shook his head, trying to make sense of just exactly what he was seeing. His mind was going and surely he couldn't trust his eyes, but nevertheless...
Despite all of the logic left in him, he was sure that several of the stars were moving toward him. With an effort, fumbling in his clouded state, he activated the optics embedded in his visor, and despite himself and his grand epiphany, grinned wider than he ever had before.
The epiphany was real, Cruz realized. When the time came, he would approach his fate willingly. He would walk into it's cold embrace with open arms.
He smiled. It really was a good death.
But he wasn't ready for it yet.
[Edited on 09.16.2012 11:57 AM PDT]