Chapter 8: KINDRED VOID

Two days after leaving the exostation the two shipmates sit silently in the cockpit whilst the ship cruises at full velocity toward their destination. Neither of them are entirely conscious. Jak is in an alcohol-induced slumber. Booze is the only thing that helps him sleep and forget. Ryker is integrated with DreamSphere — a segment of AlterCast designed to induce a dream-like state that leverages old memories whilst injecting new role-playing elements. They’ve barely said a word to each other since leaving the station; both men retreating into their own form of escapism.

The ship's console makes a sound indicating the halfway point of their journey. Jak becomes conscious. Rubbing his eyes he looks out into space and sees the view of a nearby planet against an infinite black backdrop. For a moment the view makes him forget the feeling of alcohol withdrawal and dehydration. It’s sublime. Impulsively he kicks Ryker’s chair to pull him out of the DreamSphere .

“What is it?” asks Ryker, disoriented. 

Jak motions to the ship’s aperture window. They both stare silently for a while, marveling at the sight before them. To their left is a colossal planet, its atmosphere dancing and shimmering in hazy response to the sun’s rays.

“I’ve missed this.” Jak says to himself wistfully.

Since he lost Taith he’s avoided the terrifying vastness of space at all costs, but experiencing the magnificence of the endless void again reminds him of the beauty he used to feel, out there in the open.

The inexorable image of his daughter being sucked from the ship flashes before his mind’s eye. Jak shudders, numb from the memory’s persistent intrusion. He reaches for another bottle, taking a sip before passing it to Ryker.

They reflect on what they heard at the exostation. 

“Is it possible? What they told us about the sun dying?”

Ryker is conflicted. His usually steadfast outlook is being eroded. A state of uncharacteristic contemplation is causing him to question himself and his innermost beliefs. Surely the sun isn’t about to end? But if Taith is really alive, what else could be true? Deep down he knows that the life he has been living is hollow. A wave of shame washes over him. All of the time he has spent integrated… what has it really meant? True, it’s less painful than living in the real world, but a part of him longs for a deeper purpose. Thoughts and feelings of existential angst are easily avoidable in AlterCast.

“I don’t know,” replies Jak honestly, his tone quiet and introspective.

“All of the rumors… I always thought they were crazy…” Ryker continues. “But it seems like something is happening. Something big.”

Jak’s mind wanders, recalling memories from life before the disaster. The glimmer of hope that he might see Taith again takes him back to this time. Everything then was so full of meaning… there was such an abundance of optimism. This feeling has been distant for a long time, but Jak can sense this foreign emotion growing slowly nearer. He is being drawn to it. He ruminates over all the things that he would say to his daughter if he saw her again. All the things he would share with her. All his regrets and pain. How that one moment would mean so much. Taith had never wanted to work in the military; she loathed everything it stood for. He should have listened to her. Jak finally slips into a deep sleep.

*****

A couple more days go by. The proximity of Ōmikam to the sun leads their voyage almost directly towards the system's star. The constant sunlight renders time irrelevant. Neither Jak nor Ryker have traveled this close to the center of the system before. The console tells the crew that they’re on the final stretch of their journey.

Ryker notices a bright dot at the center of their field of view, glistening vibrantly in the blanket of darkness before them. It’s so small that it almost doesn’t register, but both men know that this is it. Ōmikam is close now.

“Jak… we’re almost there.”