Drabble!
Message sent to jailbrokenJailbird [JJ] 02.58 FST Tonight
SUBJECT: [blank]
MY Dear Kingfisher,
I HOPE this message finds you well. THE situation on our side of the galaxy has, to put it modestly, gone somewhat pear-shaped. WE are currently adrift without engines in what will soon be the wake of a rogue red giant. THE troll powering our engines turned out to be not anywhere near as braindead as we had thought. HE’S merely regular dead, now, having burned himself out sling-shoting us into this unfortunate situation.
OF course, Deepmine, Metadata and I have all been wired into the engines — what’s left of them — in his place. WE will try to ride the flares to safety, but I fear it will not be enough. OUR communications array has been badly damaged already by the helmsman, and our propulsion will almost certainly never survive the radiation.
HAVE you ever seen a rogue star, dear Fisher? OURS is very beautiful, trailing a great path of silvered light that stretches far beyond the range of my sensors. THE star itself will pass a long way from us, but it is that spreading tail full of nascent stars and solar winds that will reach our ship. I AM recording what I can of the event. I WISH I had more time to pontificate on about space and it’s celestial bodies, but we are coming into the final hours of our desperate preparations and I must go through this letter again for mistakes. MY coherency has abandoned ship long before any of the crew.
I WILL contact you again if we survive, and if I am able. WHATEVER happens, please know that making your acquaintance has been one of the great pleasures of my life among the stars. I MUST apologize if this all seems very rushed and brash of me, I would have rather bid my time a little longer, to be certain of your disposition.
AH, but even in these dire straights I cannot make myself bold enough to speak plainly. I PROMISED to compose you a sonnet, did I not? PLEASE find attached a small token of my regard in verse, and the co-ordinates of our current location.
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SHALL I compare thee to a roving star? THOU art much rarer and more glitt’ring: FOR fire must burn, in time, to tar EACH flare must somenight dim from heaven’s wing, AND more oft’ do fiery spheres depart TO leave behind their orbit’s shell, THAN nature, with her spinesome art, DOES gently form a soul so well. AND though time may churn all ships to rust, AND roving stars may, roving, burn, THOUGH all be dark and trails of dust, STILL, from thine eyes I shall not turn, SO blessed be the light upon them, if it warms and comforts you, AND blessed to this paltry missive if it’s flight be straight and true.
