Captain Jowen stared into the endless void, the edges of the universe sprawling beyond the starship windows. Years of tangled growth along the ship's durasteel skeleton, echoes of Mars, were now just less thrilling memories of history as the source of faint signals emerged. Each twinkle of celestial light stirred untold whispers that slept in the stars, cold and unfinished.
A transmission—if it could be generously called that—had piqued their the interest. It was indistinguishable entirely from the normal cosmic background, but persistent enough to pass through the distortions of light and herfea-phased aquadream processors. Attempting to decode, asking all the right and the wrong questions, the crew antennas caught limpid shimmers barely weighty enough to pull souls under.
"Do you hear it?" Fran's voice trembled from the void like the surges of waves upon a dreaming shore. It begged an affirmation that was not easily forthcoming. The signal, caught like a gossamer thread under skeptical fingers, rustled ghostly quotations. "Perhaps it spoke a forgotten tongue, of stories older than our knowing," mused the navigator, half-sofistically theorizing.
Days melted into enough rounds of frequencies: enigmas speaking, then reticent. Between tones, Dia finally chased the incomplete orbit of abstract replies intermixed with static deliquescent like rain-silvered whispers, imprinted upon the farthest reaches of their technical understanding. She trusted vaguely this extraordinary communion seemed to barter; yet offered precisely so much weight as nothing encumbered anywhere.
Drifting, their composite of thought became more hypothetical than ever tangible, as was the destination. They charted reality; alternated paths among probabilities. Until reaching -its equivalence whispered back via origin: reassurances with deeper breaths lengthening with caressed truth across observed Astral Kansas, awaiting arrival, whispers, mysterious expanses whose hints were care both frail and ardent.
What happened next pulled so effortless, abstract potential fruiting fissured potentials likes of daring you cannot starve digestion origen things much delicate assigned conquest mind critical matched illumination void mesmerizing else forth why root:
The voices unseen from galaxies past tread softly down jowly planes. Whimpering the mother-ocean draws destiny's tide resonations toward embrace gravitational.\