CAIA

Two

A faint beeping, in the distance.

Pain. Shivering, violently.

My hand is taking up my vision, pale in the dying light.

Try to remember. What happened?

Head, hurts. Back hurts, think. P-push it. . . aside. . . you'll be - be fine.

I prop myself up on my arms, coming away from a broken fetal position. No pain there, just in my back. Not broken, hopefully.

Where are you? Where am I? The chill of metal rests under my hands, there're plastic walls, a flashing, warning light. Shapes and sounds blur.

Oh. The shuttle.

My vision sharpens enough so that I could finally get a view of the scene around me. An immense, rounded window at the front of the shuttle displays the outside world in high-definition.

And oh. The world. Space.

Fingers against glass. Just a tiny barrier separating me from the endless abyss. The glass is so clear and pristine that a faint reflection of myself stares back.

Me. The awareness of the grime and mud brings heat to my face. At least my hair is so dark it hides the dirt.

But beyond me the stars glitter in multitudes of sparkling wonder. My eyes can't soak it all in. There's just too much. Too many. The sky. Space. It's a void. An endless tunnel of --

Iro. The planet spins across the window, a pale green orb, glowing and so, so far away. Tiny clouds float lazily by, wispy and insubstantial. Soft dirt lines the planet like a fanciful pattern of scaly outlines, but the rest is water, green with vegetation. It's small enough that the Reforming School for Nonconformity stands out on near the equator, a tiny dark disease on the planet's skin.

So far away. I suck in a shaking breath, trembling.

I'm in space. Space.

There are aliens in space.

Psychopaths. Criminals. Rogues. Murderers.

And then maybe, possibly, my family. Somewhere.

BEEP. The muffled siren drones, a constant companion. Why is it doing that?

Turning away from the window, the control panel looms in my vision, appearing a complicated jumble of knobs and dials and buttons. Autopilot is turned on, according to the stalker-lady voice who knows my name, so then why am I floating around Iro?

Deep breath in. I move towards the pilot's chair, pause, then sit. It had a finality to it, somehow. I was in space.

"What is that sound?" I narrow my eyes towards the flashing lights along the corners of the ceiling. The oxygen is running out? Is there an engine problem?

"Welcome Caia." The sweet, pacifying female voice rings out, above the beeping. "Life form detected. Autopilot engaged."

The beeping silences. The steady pull of momentum pushes my back further into the chair.

I guess it couldn't continue because I was lying on the floor. Interesting.

"How do you know my name?" That was the most interesting part by far. Now, would the shuttle actually respond?

"The database collects vocal signatures from all members, to keep a personalized record."

I tilt my head, scrunching eyebrows, a half-smile stretching my face, no mirth. "But this is the first time I've been here."

There is a pause. "Command not recognized."

Ah. Not an all-knowing shuttle, then.

"Where are we going?"

"This shuttle is destined for coordinates 36 trillion, 24.6 million, Omega sector."

"And where's that?"

"This shuttle is destined for coordinates -"

I lean my head against a hand. I'm swarmed. So many questions. Where to begin? Wait, this is the pilot's chair. And yet no pilot to be seen.

"Who is the owner of this ship?" My voice isn't as calm as the automated lady.

"Caia Larore is the owner of this shuttle."

Wait.

No. Silence envelopes the interior, as oppressive as the space outside. There's an involuntary grin plastered on my face. It won't come off. My eyes twitch.

"This is a joke. I'm sorry, but I don't think it's that funny."

"Command not recognized. Do you wish to turn automated speaker off?"

One hand rubs my temple. Deep breath. Hold.

Exhale. My hand still quivers.

"Please stop. This is too much. First I'm in space and now. . ." I take another shaking breath, my eyes flickering around the controls. "Is this a punishment? At first, I thought it was cool. I mean come on! Space! B-but I don't think so anymore. So yeah, M-Matron Verona, you win. I'm s-sorry for sneaking out. I-I won't do it again."

"Automated speaker off. To turn on, go to the settings menu of the main computer." With that, the calm voice fades away.

Silence.

"N-no, wait. Come back. . ." I sit alone in the empty shuttle that is somehow mine. My arms wrap around my legs, still. I am still.

Shock.

On the screen, a message appears, reading, approaching warp speed.

It flashes twice before vanishing; the screen returns to its normal, placid blue.

I am so still I could be one of the harsh, reproving statues in the common room of the school, depicting the two deceased Matrons who had founded it.

Warp speed hits and instantly I am smashed against the seat, shaking through the rough, jostling ride as suddenly the stars stretch and the world warps across the window. Iro is gone, replaced with the blackness of space.

And as fast as it began, it ends. The stars return to normal little dots, and the pressure gripping me against the seat lifts.

But then, it's the weirdest thing; the shuttle is completely still. No whir of engines hum in the background. No vibrations rock the floor. I stand up, looking outside the window.

Nothing but stars.

And then, suddenly, something knocks against the hatch door. I whirl around, expecting space to come crashing through the door, sucking me into the abyss. I exhale as nothing immediately happens.

But then the latch flies open.