In the void of space, each jarring step he took clanged across the hull of his freight ship, the gravity-correcting boots heavily pulling at his legs, forcing metallic contact with each footfall. His back ached from the extra weight of the life-saving suit encasing his sweaty body as he pushed and coaxed the large cooling cylinder toward a steaming, gaping tear in the ship's exterior.
It wasn't obvious what had ejected the previous cylinder, space debris or a meteor— but it was of little concern if it wasn't replaced before the ship's life support system burned out.
He paused to check his vital stats on his helmet's monitor. With such slow progression getting the cylinder across the hull from the closest access point, the remaining oxygen level was less in the green than he liked. Finally, he parked the cooling cylinder above the rupture and got to work.
After shutting off the pipe and securing the cylinder with adhesive strips of material that everyone called space duct tape, both hands were free to start the plasmic welder. He unhooked the tool from the back of his belt. On the third strike to get it started, the tool's back end knocked the cooling cylinder hard enough to dislodge it from its mounted position, the duct tape straining to keep it connected to the ship. Before he could grab the cylinder, the welder flared to life, punching a fresh hole into the exterior plate of the vessel. Laying out a string of curses that would make a Maloriak blush, he snatched at the escaping cylinder, but it was just beyond reach. Disengaging the welder, he leaped with all the force he could muster after the cylinder, gloved hands outstretched.
His fingers brushed cold space, inches from the cylinder. The hum of the gravity boots warned of the impending crash back to solid ground, and he slammed down so hard that his teeth clattered in his head.
He watched in dismay as the cylinder floated away, and then a hissing noise caught his attention; out of the corner of his eye, he saw gas escaping from the connecting tube from the oxygen supply on his back. Suppressing panic as the level dropped a bar on the vital stats, he snagged another piece of duct tape and quickly wrapped it tightly around the tube to seal it. Three bars were lost. He couldn't afford to lose that much oxygen and still patch the holes. He chewed on his options as the cylinder drifted lazily away, a glimpse of silver in the vast void.
With a groan, he grabbed the resin gun from his side. This was a stupid idea, but it would be more stupid to leave two holes in the hull while running inside for a refill of his oxygen and hunting down a new cylinder in bay 2 on the other side of the vessel. Setting the gun inside the crisp edges of the hull breach, he hit the trigger and tried to concentrate on the work instead of the time ticking away until the resin filled the space and glued the edges together. He quickly capped the gun and headed to the hatch, finally allowing himself to glance at his stats. He was one yellow bar from red. Squashing the rising panic in his chest, he strained to push the clunky suit faster while breathing as normally as possible to conserve what was left of breathable air.
A strange sound, much like pieces of glass clinking together, registered through the sound processor on his helmet. He paused, glancing around for its source. Was there another repair he missed? The sound came again to his right, and he spun, catching a sight so ethereal that his brain had difficulty deciphering what his eyes were telling it.
Gliding over the hull, just behind him, was a being made of sparkling crystal; its form flowing and crashing into itself, only to reform with a ray of sparks as it pushed forward. It was like a living wave of starlight cascading across his ship. Suddenly, as if it noticed him, it changed direction and approached him, revealing its humanoid face as it got closer. He lost his breath, gazing at the most beautifully sculpted face he'd ever seen, its four eyes sparkling like liquid diamonds.
Its form shifted as it moved until it was only a few feet away, but the face held in place like a gilded mask of perfection. As the final wave of crystals crashed together, its form assumed something more human-like once stationary.
A static sound filled his helmet.
"Hey."
He blinked, simultaneously registering the sound as a word and its source. He continued to stare at the expectant angelic face in front of him, feeling like his thoughts were dragging through molasses.
He coughed, his voice coming out a husky rasp of what it had once been from lack of use.
"H-hello."
The static tickled his ear again in response. "What are you?"
He barked a laugh. "Well, I guess I'm as alien to you as you are to me… I'm a human… from a little planet we call Earth—"
He glanced around for marker galaxies and found his home one in the distance over his unexpected guest's left shoulder and pointed. "It's a little blue planet over there somewhere."
His eyes returned to the shining figure before him, his heart racing as the being glanced towards the Milky Way before turning back to him with a smile that made their sparkling face shine even brighter as they drew closer.
He cleared his throat. "I'm George; what should I call you?"
The being titled their head, and George felt something warm tingle behind his temples.
"You have not the sounds." they lamented, and the warm feeling subsided.
They considered him for a moment, then the bright smile returned as George was processing that his mind may just have been read. "The word 'Starlight' would be pleasant to be called."
"Starlight," he breathed, then collected his wits as an alarm started ringing in his helmet. The oxygen levels!
"I-I have to go." He forced himself to look away, turn, and head towards the hatch. Every step felt heavier than the last, and when he dared to look at the monitor, his stomach plummeted to the floor at the half of a bar left.
George glanced back up, mentally measuring the distance to the hatch. It was impossible. It was impossible, but his feet pushed forward.
"Is something wrong?" Starlight's concerned melody floated through the static of his helmet.
"I have to save my breath," George murmured. "I don't know if you understand this—but I'm out of air. I need to get inside."
"Inside?" They crashed to the hull beside him, the sparks of golden light brushing the suit of George's arm.
He found himself wondering if those sparks would tickle or burn. Starlight turned their head toward the hatch as if sensing his thoughts again. "Inside." They repeated. "Is what you need."
His vision blurred, and George couldn't muster a response. As far as first encounters went, a friendly disaster wasn't so bad. If he made it back in, there could be a second encounter, and then more—he could learn all about them, they could learn about him…
Lights began to flash at the sides of his vision, and he was vaguely aware he may still be hearing Starlight's voice, but everything was muffled. The hatch, where was the hatch? Would this be the end? There was hope to end his solitude after he'd just met something so beautiful and bright— but the space around him spun, the lights blanking out like a galaxy imploding.
"I'm sorry."
George wasn't sure if he said it aloud or Starlight said it to him. The darkness was a comfort, and then a light, too harsh for any sense of peace, was pounding at his eyelids like an angry landlord. He groaned at its persistence. Didn't he run out of oxygen on the hull? If this was death, death hurt like hell. He coughed, squinting his eyes open to a hazy metallic ceiling. He felt the rough, hard floor under his suit as the panels above him came into focus. The helmet was gone, but his suit was on, and he was inside— somehow, he'd made it!
He slowly pulled himself up, woozy from the effort but grateful for the breath in his lungs. He gazed out into the vastness of space beyond the hatch door. Had meeting Starlight been a dream, some kind of oxygen-deprived hallucination?
A rain of golden crystals cascaded outside the hatch door, and George felt like weeping. There, Starlight stood, smiling.
"I am glad George is better, being inside." The static of their voice was faint, but he pressed his forehead to the glass, thrilled and relieved to hear it.
"Me too. I'd hate to cut short our first meeting by dying." He hacked a laugh. "Would you… would you like to ride with me for a while? I'd like to get to know you…. Is that okay?"
"Yes," Starlight shimmered. "I'd be pleased to be in close proximity for 'a while'."
As it turned out, that time frame meant two different things to their species, but George remained as thrilled as the first day they met to have Starlight in his life and by his side as weeks became months that turned into years and beyond.
