By Fellow Cosmic Voyager, Gabriel Space, I mean Blank
There she was alone in a vessel in the abyss of space.
She was used to brief trips. Energy scrounging missions through the microwave laden solar cluster. Transient cyro-sleeps on journey from one planet to another.
But she wasn’t prepared for this, seemingly unannounced voyage to the edge of space. At least she had enough toilet paper.
She was told it was a medical mission. A mission to find a rare remedy not available on planet Medicamentum.
She knew there were others in the journey—that’s what she was told by command—but, dammit, her comms were down, giving her at most truncated messages from comrades ships.
It was her, and the spaceship, and the void. Ah yes, the void. She almost forgot it too. She was so occupied controlling the spaceship, as any self-respecting pilot often is, that she nearly missed it.
Lying beside the pilot seat, within view yet nearly out of reach sat the window to the expanse, the endless, the open void of space.
Stars blazed in fiery passion, so bright was their light, yet so quickly it faded. Cosmic bodies churned as seemingly endless orbits. Ruminating orbits that constantly moved yet stayed the same.
And amidst the expanse sat a moon, etched with craters from cosmic collisions, immortalized wounds of challenges past.
Yet, it was these scars that that made the moon special—significant—sacred.
And as one often does when looking through windows, she saw her reflection, faintly. A mirror of the endless void.