FSE

Ritual of Re-entry (Otherwise Untitled)

Story by Moriar on SoFurry

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#218 of Short Stories

A possum calls upon a higher power.

~ The possum's breathing was somewhat labored as he leaned back against what was left of the small transport ship's communications console. He couldn't seem to stop tasting the burnt wiring smell, or stop hearing the gurgling hiss of the ship's reserve fuel lines bleeding out into the vacuum of space. His arms tingled from the burns, though the cuts appeared to have stopped bleeding, from where he'd overloaded the tension relay in an attempt to coax it into a meek whimper of a distress call.

~ The bulk of the coil's primary member had bounced off of the main view port, and there was now a spiderweb pattern of cracks across its length and width. This was all a calmer matter to focus on than the approaching planet and atmospheric re-entry looming beyond. With fingers somewhat numbed, he carefully pulled a battered portable shrine out from the canvas panic bag he'd pulled up from stowage.

~ "I suppose Mom was right, to have me pack this...", carefully fiddling with the latch holding it shut. The slab of wood hinged open like a book, though there was a tiny sapphire bowl in lieu of any sort of pages or writing. "I see that black panel cover over there, the stain from where my pen broke, that wire hanging from the storage slot, the flickering lamp next to the controls, and a faint red glow from the relay screen."

~ He carefully pulled out two of the long sticks of dried potato from the baggie in the altar, "I feel the cold of this floor, a bit of a tightness from my belt, a tingling heat from the burn on my left arm, and a wet patch on my leg."

~ Snapping the pairs in half, he placed the pieces down into the sapphire bowl, "I can hear the ventilation fan kicking in and out, the creaking as the engine lines cool, and my own breathing."

~ A small vial of water from home uncorked, he poured it over the potato sticks, "I smell burning wiring, and the canvas of my panic bag."

~ He paused a moment, closing his eyes as the water soaked into the dried sticks, "And.. and I taste.. I taste bitterness from the coolant in the air."

~ The possum looked up from his altar and the offering he'd made, and out towards the stars and skies beyond.

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