Crimson Star by Elizabeth Jewell

Author:Elizabeth Jewell [Jewell, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

There was only so much to do with bodies in space. Incineration was an option for the occasional death, but when every member of the crew had succumbed and the oxygen situation was touchy at best, the only thing left was jettisoning the bodies.

“I hate this,” Ash muttered as they emptied the command center of its silent, stiffening inhabitants. “I hate this so much.”

“I can do it.” Trev positioned an officer -- Ash refused to look, refused to acknowledge names or that these corpses had once been his friends -- on the gurney they’d dragged up from medical. “Seriously. I’ve seen plenty of death. It doesn’t bother me like it does you.”

Ash nodded. He got that, but he also felt like he’d be a complete chickenshit if he didn’t help. He was already being a chickenshit by not looking at the faces, but he didn’t know any other way to get through this. It would be worse when they got to the bunks. Maybe he’d go ahead and be a chickenshit then.

They were silent for a time, Ash keeping his mouth pressed into a thin line while he thought about anything except what he was actually doing. Finally Trev said quietly, “I fought in World War II.”

Ash looked up. It seemed an impossibly long time ago. “Really?”

Trev nodded. “I was mortal then. I think… I think this might be worse, in a way, than seeing bodies on a battlefield.”

Ash considered that. “Did you see the camps?” He asked the question in a flat voice, keeping his emotions tamped down.

“This is not worse than that,” was Trev’s only answer.

Standing in the airlock, though, watching his crewmembers fly out into the vast black, Ash had to wonder how anything could be worse. There was no chaplain, not anymore, no one to commend them to whatever was out there that might accept them into eternity. Ash knew nothing to say, had no inclination to make a speech, and apparently neither did Trev. Or perhaps Trev just wasn’t religious. Ash had no idea what beliefs vampires might hold. He settled for murmuring “Godspeed,” to himself, and adding, finally, the name that had identified each still, silent body in life.

“Godspeed, Carrera,” he murmured as the last body flew out into the darkness. He pressed his fingers against the cold glass of the viewport, watching. Carrera’s body moved slowly away from the ship, arms spreading out, as if she were swimming. Ash smiled a little, not sure why, and suddenly felt a slow, easy peace settle over him, almost enough to make him dizzy.

Then, just as suddenly, he realized he could see all of them, every one, floating away, turning a bit from the leftover impetus from the jettison tubes. Arms out or bent, legs akimbo or folded over each other.

He spun away from the window and ran. He didn’t quite make it to the head before he threw up.

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