uncharacteristic tenderness from the SINGULARITY — gunther is watched from afar as he goes about his duties. starbright gaze follows him from task to task. dutiful, devoted. (you ever think about running away?) (probably not.) when gunther lays down to sleep he might think he feels a touch of static trailing down one cheek. but it’s only a dream.
@sunstouch / @jumpinagain
"- change in the system? Good. The last thing we need is any damage to the weapons on the ship. What about rations? Have the recent batch been checked -"
Just like opening a book and picking up where you left off, the story of the doomed Invincible II plays out. Whereabouts in the space frontier are they? Does it matter, really? All that matters is the ship continues running. With Mark gone, and nothing to power the warp core, it was up to the remaining three Leads to take up the responsibility of the ship. There was an interim Head Engineer, but there was no Captain. Neither Burt, Celci, nor Gunther had received a promotion, so the jobs were equally shared out in an unofficial manner.
"It has to be an error," Celci had said, when the Computer insisted no promotions were available. "How can we have a ship with no Captain?"
"There is a chance that their ship is late. Like the dandelion seed drifting on the wind, they may not be able to properly steer a course in the right direction." Burt's words, however poetic, did little to truly offer consolation to anyone.
The third lead, Gunther, had said nothing. Normally, he would give a quip about the ship needing as much help as possible. When the other two looked for his input, he simply shrugged and gestured to the one unofficially in the role of Head Engineer.
Whatever had been on his mind had to be kept to himself. How could he explain that looking at the interim Head Engineer made his chest feel hollow? Everyone was so keen to move on from the absence of Mark that it never seemed right to bring it up.
He has no idea that no one mentions him because no one else remembers Mark. Did that one timeline where Gunther threw himself into the wormhole leave him with an extra memory embedded deeper than any programming reset?
The crew can't know the ADS Lead is burdened with an aching heart. They can't know the real reason why he slows outside certain rooms is because part of him hopes to see someone else walking out of it so he can lift him up and fluster him for just a moment. They can't even discover the reason there's a motivational poster on the wall in the dorm wing is because Gunther couldn't stand seeing the blank wall where a door used to be.
He missed Mark with ever fibre of his being, and he didn't realise how much he loved the engineer until he disappeared.
Sometimes, he glances at the exploration ships waiting in the hangar. Would he be forgiven if he took one and went on a quest across the planets to find Mark? But... Would Mark want that? The Invincible II was his baby, his pride and joy. He couldn't run away, no matter how badly he wanted to. It wouldn't be right. Even without him here, it was like there was the expectation that Mark might appear, that he might be watching in every metal panel, in every wire, in every screw and bolt. He'd make Mark proud and stay.
Instead, he had to content himself with staring at the stars from the bridge when things were quiet at the very end of his night patrol. He could almost imagine the conversations they would be having:
"Those stars lined up together remind me of Orion's Belt. Have you heard the story of that one, Gunther? It was the one about..."
He lied, sometimes. He'd pretend he forgot a story just to let Mark talk passionately about the stars that he adored so much. How grateful he was that he did that. He could remember the stories others might have brushed aside. Maybe he should try writing them down before he forgot.
("You're like that one star there. You see it?" Gunther had pressed close to Mark so he could point at the glass. "The bright one in the middle. That's you.")
The walk back to his cabin was lonely, but there was the faint trace of something watching. Obviously, his mind tutted, there are security cameras. But it went further than the corridors. It was in his room when he was ready to turn the light out and get some sleep before another day.
Something faint brushed against his cheek. It wasn't the pillow, it wasn't his hand absent-mindedly scratching his face. Whatever it was, it was comforting, even if it was just his imagination.
Moments later, something trailed down his other cheek, but that was far more tangible.
In the privacy of the cabin, none of the crew could witness the way the heartbroken soldier wept for his missing love.
