Shadows and Ghosts
Posted on Sat Oct 4th, 2025 @ 9:08pm by Lieutenant Vesper Wolfe & Ensign Erin Andala
620 words; about a 3 minute read
Mission: Respite
The ship was quiet at this hour. Most of the crew were asleep, the corridors dimmed to night cycle lighting. Erin had been tossing in bed for hours, her mind circling the same tracks of memory until it was unbearable until she finally had gotten up and paced through the corridors. She finally found herself once again in the observation lounge, the wide sweep of the stars beckoning her. She sat cross legged on the floor near the view port with her back against the wall as she stared at the infinite black. Her uniform jacket was folded beside her, leaving her in just the gray undershirt. She was too tired to care about appearances.
Vesper stepped into the observation lounge, her hair tousled, still wearing her uniform. She hadn’t been able to sleep and the pull of the stars had brought her here. She stopped short when she saw Erin on the floor. For a moment, she just watched the young science officer, fragile and small against the vast backdrop. Then she crossed the room slowly, lowering herself to sit next to Erin without a word. "I see I'm not the only one who couldn't sleep," Vesper said.
Erin gave a shaky laugh, though it was more breath than sound. “I’m predictable, I guess.” She wiped her eyes quickly, embarrassed to be caught crying again. “I'm sorry. I just couldn’t stay in my quarters, and I can't even walk by the science labs without hearing Noa's voice.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Vesper said quietly. “After Reagan died, I swore I still heard her laugh in the corridors. It took months before I stopped expecting her at breakfast.” She leaned her head back against the wall, her eyes on the stars. “Grief plays tricks on you. It makes you think the universe owes you an explanation it’s never going to give. But it doesn’t mean you’re broken for feeling that way.”
Erin’s throat tightened. No one else had said it so plainly. Everyone else had tried to encourage her to “move on” or “focus on the mission.” But Vesper didn’t ask her to push it away. She let it exist. “Sometimes I feel like I shouldn’t still be crying,” Erin admitted. “I feel like I’m letting everyone down by not being stronger.”
Vesper turned her head to look at her. “Strength isn’t about not crying. It’s about letting yourself keep breathing when it feels impossible. You’ve already survived the hardest part. You came back from that mission. You’re here. That means someone will live on to remember those that didn't.” She reached over and nudged Erin’s shoulder with her own. “And you don’t have to do it alone. There are people here you can talk to.”
The touch grounded her more than she expected. Erin let out a trembling breath and leaned just slightly into Vesper’s shoulder tentatively. “I don’t know why you’re being so kind to me,” she murmured.
“Because someone should’ve been kinder to me when I was where you are now,” Vesper said simply, her tone carrying no pity, only conviction. “I don’t want you to go through this thinking you’re alone.”
For the first time in days, Erin felt the edges of calm. The ache was still there, she felt that maybe it always would be, but it didn’t feel quite so unbearable with someone beside her. “Thank you, Vesper,” she whispered. “Really.”
Vesper’s gaze lingered on the stars, the corners of her eyes glistening with tears. "I told you before, Andala, I'm here for you anytime," she said softly.
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