Author's note: Wow, it's been a while since I've opened my profile, let alone post something from it. Apologies for the big hiatus, but I had school and college to think about, which left me no room to write stuff. Also been spending some time polishing my writing skills, and I think I'm very impressed with the difference between the stories I wrote before and this one. I'm also going to try and keep updating this one as it goes along, as all of my other stories have been left incomplete.
Before you start reading this story, though, there are some things you should know about it.
Alex resembles the character on my profile, but with a beard.
The Aurora is a science retrofit of the Farragut Battle Cruiser from Elite Dangerous.
This story is not canon with Xenoblade Chronicles 2.
Anyway, that's pretty much all you need to know before reading. After reading, I recommend leaving feedback in the reviews section, as your opinion helps me improve my writing a lot. And if you don't want to write one, then you should also favorite this story so that you can get notifications when I post a new chapter. Anyway, enough talking around, hope you enjoy the story of Alex and Aegis!
Alex could not sleep. To be honest, he could never sleep much. But today was a 3rd night in a long streak of sleepless nights. Of course, this was not unusual for him. He wasn't used to drifting off in space, the reactor cold like winter and the giant thrusters dead and flaking away like a dead insect. And what made it worse was that he was stuck alone a ship made to house over 9000 personnel. So not only was he stuck aboard a dead spaceship, he was stuck aboard a dead spaceship the size of a city. He had no one to talk to, only thing he could do was look out at the stars and pray to God that someone would find him.
Alex got up from his bed and went to the replicator built into the wall of his office. He punched a code in for a B-2 protein supplement. The machine whined and clicked as the bio-printer began to charge, and in a flash of bright light a steak and a can of beans appeared inside the replicator. Since the Whiteout, Alex had increased his calorie intake in an attempt to stay nourished. The can of beans was there to help him feel full longer, since the fiber was digested slowly. However, the ships generators had almost been emptied of power, which were the only thing driving the replicators and the large comms sphere that kept beaming out out his pre-recorded cry for help. However, no one had responded to his repetitive cries. And now, it appeared that Alex may no longer be getting the only thing that kept him going.
Alex took his meal from the replicator and looked at his desk. He didn't want to eat in his office. Right now, it looked like the room of a house recently abandoned, covered in dust and small cobwebs, but other than that, no sign of wear. And he didn't feel like cleaning up. He had too many thoughts switching back and forth in his head. It was like a 6-function relay that hadn't been wired properly. Alex decided to take a walk to the observatory and look at the stars. If being lost in space had any benefit, it was that he could eat while looking at the stars, without the noise of the other scientists who would be studying the stars at this point in the day.
Alex avoided taking the elevator that connected all the floors of the Aurora together. He didn't want to waste any of the remaining precious electricity than he already had. Instead, he took the service stairs that wound around the elevator shaft like a snake sleeping upright on a branch. The red emergency lights kept flickering throughout the dark stairway, and twice Alex almost tripped and dropped his dinner. Cursing under his breath, Alex reached the level of the Observatory.
As he entered the Observatory, he caught a glimpse of himself in one of the computer screens that were at the base of the massive glass dome. He still wore his white coat, as it was designed to be practically bulletproof. And he still had the poorly cared-for beard that looked like it was made of twigs rather than hair. Alex wasn't used to having a beard, especially since he was always used to having a clean shaven face that had no indication of any hair follicle ever existing. But he couldn't waste the generators power using his electric razor. He needed every spark of power operating the comms sphere and the replicator that gave him food.
Alex sat down at the center console with his 3D printed cutlery and began to cut his steak. The plastic knife creaked and strained through the steak and for a moment it looked like it would almost break. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he had cut the steak into evenly shaped cubes, and he began to eat while looking at the large stars that were above him. He wondered if any other astronaut had been further than he had, had gotten a chance to see the giant, multicolored nebulas of gas and dust that looked like clouds. He wondered if any science cruiser had been so far as to see up close the giant gas planets that swirled with the colors of coffee and milk. And he wondered if any astronaut had been in his situation before, being lost in the farthest corners of the Milky Way. Alex kept hoping that someone would come round the corner of that space cloud, round that ball of expresso with a empty ship willing to help. The human race never left any corner of the galaxy unturned. No matter where you were, someone was always there. So why had no one found him?
As Alex picked at his last piece of steak a dreaded thought entered his mind. He had been trying to push it out of his mind for a long time now, like that annoying friend at work who would not shut up about the latest cryptocurrency or the latest celebrity scandal. Like a playground bully trying to get an insult through your head no matter how much you ignored him. It kept nagging at him, and it didn't seem to go away. However, he knew what the thought might be true. He couldn't avoid it. No matter how much he denied himself, it always came out the same.
"Dear God." Alex whispered to himself and he laid back in his chair and looked up at the stars. The computer that gave him the news was smart. It never lied and it never made mistakes. It had told him that all oxygen and life support systems would run out in a week, and when Alex had done his own calculations to confirm the computer's conclusions, he discovered that what the computer said was truth, not fiction. That meant he only had one week for someone to find the Aurora, for someone to hear his pre-recorded cries for help. And considering that he had been adrift the ship for almost an entire year, he was starting to doubt that anyone would find him. If no-one had found him since The Whiteout, then there was a good chance that nobody would.
As Alex was looking up at the stars he noticed something on the console opposite to him. A camera. Not like the wired ones throughout the ship that he had disconnected long ago to save power, but rather a camera that looked like something you would take on an outdoor trip, with a rugged, honeycomb-like casing and a flip-screen that was slightly scratched and dusty. Alex got up from his chair and walked to the opposite console, where he inspected the camera. The clear, water-like lenses were smooth and did not shown any sign of cracking. Aside from the small scratches and dents, the flip-screen seemed to be in perfect working condition. After looking over the camera, Alex pressed a silver red button on the side of the camera. The screen flashed a crude cave-drawing of a man holding a clear orb of glass in his hand, and the name "PomTom" appeared below it. The camera then transitioned the logo into a live image of the observatory, although it was a bit grainy and at points the image fogged up. He looked at the top-right corner of the screen and saw that it had 3 hours of battery remaining.
Alex looked up at the stars once more and gave a loud sigh. The camera gave him some sort of relief from his impending doom. He always thought he would never have a chance to record his last words. That he would drift away without ever getting the last word. But as he held the camera in his hands, he felt a sense of relaxation and a slight spark of happiness. The camera meant that, in a way, he would continue to live on. That he would continue to exist not in the sense of being alive, but rather in the sense of people remembering him. It also meant that he might be able to say his final goodbye to his son, who he hadn't seen ever since he boarded the Aurora, to his mother who he hadn't seen since his 22 birthday. For Alex, the camera meant he could finally get some closure with his coming fate, that he could finally have someone to talk to, even if that someone wouldn't see him for many years.
Alex left the console with his camera, completely forgetting the unopened can of beans that he had left behind. He didn't care about his meal anymore. All he cared about was going to a comfortable spot and recording his final words.
Alex decided to march all the way up to the helm of the Aurora and record himself there. That way, he felt that he would look professional, and he wouldn't look so much like a crazy person on account of his appearance. In a shred of hope that everything was going to be alright. he wanted to look good for the people that were going to watch him, like he still had some Eventually Alex reached the top of the stairwell, where he was met with a large steel door, which had the words "HELM-KNOCK BEFORE ENTERING" painted in red, and a small round scanner the size of a shirt button attached to the side of it. He chuckled when he read the big red words, which almost glared at you the way a general would glare at a misbehaving recruit. Funny. The words were protecting the discretion of no one. Alex placed his thumb on the scanner, and he felt the warm heat of it going over his skin, analyzing the different sections of skin that made up his thumb, plotting every bump and crack between the ridges on his thumb. After a moment, the scanner lit green and made a happy chime, and the door groaned and revealed the helm.
The helm of the Aurora was the largest command center on the ship. Wires hung from the ceiling in loops and ties, and some had been cut by Alex when he had "renovated" the ship after discovering that the reactor was dead. Each side of the massive door was flanked by two massive consoles that stretched a quarter of the room. In front of the consoles there was a large temperfoam chair that was flanked by two other chairs, each with their own glass-framed monitor. On each of the two big consoles there were massive arrays of buttons and switches that looked like they belonged in a recording studio rather than the helm of a spaceship. Hanging over each console was a series of holographic projector spheres that on better days would have displayed statistics about the ship stability, resource consumption, and crew status. But none of these consoles worked now, as Alex had also cut these consoles off when trying to manage the power situation. After all, with the thrusters completely fried, the Aurora clearly didn't need the extra power to move itself.
Alex walked past the consoles towards the big chair that sat in front of the large glass panel that made up all of the front wall of the helm. Alex quickly discovered the camera's "float-shot" and switched it on. As he positioned the camera a few feet from the big chair, he noticed that the camera did not so much as flinch when the float-shot software took over, like it was attached to some invisible tripod. After setting himself comfortably in the captains chair and double checking that he did not have any stains on his shirt, he took a deep breath and looked into the camera.
"To anyone who may be watching me right now….."
Alex shuddered. He did not think that doing this would make him so uneasy. Nevertheless he continued.
"If you are watching this, then there is a good chance I'm dead. Right now, given how much electricity is left in the generators right now, I've got a week to live until the life support on this derelict runs dry, and I've got even shorter than that until I run out of food and water,. So, since I'm pretty sure I'm going to die out here, I figured it's best if I record a little something for people to remember me by. That is, if people ever do find me."
"My name's Alexander Hawkins. However, my friends know me as Alex or "Ax". I'm the chief biologist aboard the USS Aurora. Last year, I think July, an unexplained cosmic phenomenon called The Whiteout struck our ship. I was unable to see what caused the event, since all I saw was a bright flash of light. What I do know, however, is that everyone had disappeared within seconds. Everyone, except me."
"For the first few months, I'll be honest, I thought it was a prank. That everyone would show up and yell out "Surprise!" and give me a big hug, cake and all. But once I saw how the neglect on the ship was taking it's toll, I realized that what I was experiencing was real, not fake. I immediately began to find ways to keep the ship in good condition. But at that point the reactor was completely dead, and the only power I could use was inside the generators. Not enough to power the thrusters, but enough to power all life support systems onboard."
"So that's where I've been this past year. I'd write all this also on some paper, with a neat signature, but I figured you might want to hear this from me face to face. I've been trying to work out ways to power the thrusters, but with the reactor completely dead I can barely bring it to a spark. I've also been trying to chalk up an explanation as to the cause of The Whiteout, but every theory I come up with just turns into a dead end. I've also been working on a small garden, with a lot of xeno-life growing in it, but I assume you don't want to hear about that. I also assume you don't want to hear my theory on how to grow potatoes out of my own sh-."
As Alex was talking, he kept being interrupted by a small glow in the distance. He kept thinking that it may be a small plasma flare, caused by particles of space gas statically charged by the giant glass panel. But as the glow slowly got brighter, he began to see it more clearly. Alex got up to confirm what he was seeing.
"My God"
Amongst the small glow he could make out a strange shape. It continued to float closer to the panel."
"Oh my God."
As it continued to get closer, the shape managed to become clearer. Alex began to breathe more heavily.
"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my god."
Alex dashed out of the helm, almost knocking down the camera on his way through the door. He knew exactly what was out there.
"Oh my god, oh my god, there's someone out there there's someone floating out there Oh my God someone finally found me Oh my God."