Filling the Void

Marcos massaged his temple with a thick thumb. "Good party last night."

I offered him some of my Water Plus. "You never know which one will be your last."

He didn't grimace or laugh, just nodded as he accepted my canteen. He knew the stakes. We all did. It came with the territory. "Well, you out did yourself this time."

"Gracias."

We both fell silent. The ship was quiet but not devoid of noise. There was the hum of the air-recycler, some familiar ticking that I'd never identified but I'd heard on every ship that I'd been on. I wondered if the sounds were engineered on purpose or if they were a byproduct of the machinery.

Marcos stood up and paced back and forth in front of me. "It's all this in-between-ness that gets to me. Back there it's body-knocking and aphro-hallucinogenics. When we're doing our job--when we're in the middle of it--it's all adrenaline and bad dreams. Either way, we ain't thinking. But during transport times it's just . . ."

I finished his thought. " . . . this."

"Exactly."