There was this really great theory, Bryce recalled, about planetal orbits and the distances between them, something about mathematical equations that matched musical notes, creating a kind of melody. Musica universalis. That might have been it, but as science had progressed the theory had been disproven, and besides, Bryce’s memory was a little dusky from the journey, and this was many years ago.
Still, as he looked out from the observation deck at clusters of stars and nebulas and galaxies, it was a theory he wished were true. If there were no reinforced window between him and the inky depths of space, might he hear the softest of hums, a gentle frequency that would resonate through his body as the blackness ate him? It would certainly be better than the incessant drone of the warp engines, thrusting the ship onward at speeds beyond light. This shift business was starting to get to him. He appreciated not having to sleep for the entire thirty years to their destination, but the tedium of spending a month working, only to be put back into cryo-sleep for another six, well, his brain didn’t seem to cope too well with this arrangement. He knew that more than a month of working in solitude would probably drive him crazy, but who was to say he wasn’t already crazy? Oh well, only three more days until he went under again, perhaps he would feel differently by the time his next shift was due. The Phoenix was the pinnacle of scientific and technological achievement, and was more than capable of making the journey unaided, but the powers that be thought it better to always have a member of the crew awake, just to be sure. Of course, the powers that be also thought having more than one crew member awake was a waste of money and supplies, so Bryce didn’t have much faith in the intelligence of the ‘powers that be’, but he wasn’t exactly in a position to argue.
Halfway through the journey, and the ships logs had yet to record a mishap of any kind. Endless repetition meant that Bryce could now complete all the usual checks in four days. He had now worked out a schedule that saw him spend the rest of the time divided between exploring other sections of the ship, attempting to read everything in the ship’s onboard library (which held close to 6 million books in its database, from the complete works of Shakespeare to Hyperdrive Maintenance for Dummies) and tasting every possible combination of food and liquids the ships Nutritive Regeneration Dispensary could come up with. Sure, the crew were all injected with the necessary substances to keep their bodies healthy and functional whilst in cryo-sleep, but giving them access to approximations of food on earth when during their shifts would see to their mental health. Pleasure is as much a human need as food, water or sleep. And yes, there were books for that too.
It was hard to believe that the Phoenix was moving at such incredible speeds, as everything beyond the safety of the observation window seemed to be static, unmoving. Bryce knew it had to do with the vast distances between them and the nearest star, but he wasn’t interested in the logical explanations. Right now, has was happy to lose himself in the thought that perhaps they were moving that slowly, that has really wasn’t that far away from home.
But the thought of home had barely formed in his mind, when he saw it. It was close enough to the ships barrage of sensory equipment to slow the ship to a true stop, somewhere in the depths of the Phoenix, a million nanochips had begun analysing and quantifying, but all Bryce could do was stare. It was huge, filling the entire observation deck with a warm glow. Of course, all temperatures were regulated by the ships core, so it couldn’t have really been warm, yet Bryce could think of no other way to describe it. It was almost as if a tear in space had occurred, leaking light from another universe. Bryce could have sworn it was pulsing, it seemed to swell larger and then in the same instant shrink back down again. It seemed alien and alive, perhaps the birth of a new heavenly body, or the death of one. It was so bright, he didn’t even notice the deck lights whisper off, and he couldn’t have noticed the lights in every other part of the ship die either. It pulsed every shade of red imaginable, or was that every sound of red? There was something else in his head now, something louder than the drone of the ships engines, although as with the lights, the sudden quiet of the engines failed to distract him.
It still felt warm, as if the ships titanium hull were on fire. Perhaps were it not so beautiful, Bryce would have noticed the floor glowing with its own dark red, noticed the tear filling every inch of his gaze. Had his last thought not been of light and heat, Bryce might have considered the legend from which the ship took it’s name. The Phoenix, burned to ash, only to rise again.
And Bryce rose again, yet not Bryce. Not his memories, nor his thoughts and dreams. But Bryce, beyond the confines of space, of time, and glowing, pulsing with a music more ancient than the universe.
