Volume 1 - Nora's Vigil
The Daedalus. A marvel of its age. A cryoark built to spread life to other worlds. Launched in 2304 with 256 passengers sealed in cryosleep.
Nora had whispered the words from an old news report, her voice carrying in the emptiness of her bunk. She shut the tablet and stared out the viewport. Beyond the glass lay only the quiet scatter of stars. The deep hum of the engines was the only thing keeping the room from being too quiet.
The year is 2554. Two hundred and fifty years after launch. My parents were so proud. So worried. She scrawled the line in her journal, then froze as a tear smudged the page. She tossed the book aside before the spiral could pull her under. Hands covered her face. Shoulders shook. Eventually she curled under the blanket, small against the weight pressing in from all directions. The lights in the corridor flickered once, as if sensing her unrest.
She had woken from cryosleep months ago. The Daedalus had triggered an emergency protocol to wake the crew. But Nora was the only one to step out of her pod.
She had stumbled at first—cold, drenched, blind with dizziness. The cryochamber swam into focus. Rows of frosted glass. Silent faces.
Her monitor had shown she wasn’t scheduled to wake for another 250 years. Confusion had curdled to dread. She checked the pod beside hers. Flatline. Then another. Then another. Every pod read the same: no heartbeat, no brain activity.
Her throat had closed. The walls tilted. Claustrophobia swelled in her chest until the chamber spun out of control and the world went black.
In that darkness came fragments: summer barbecues, Christmas lights, the ocean’s salt sting, the smell of smoke. Her family laughing. For one aching moment she was home again.
When she came to, she had been lying on the cryochamber floor surrounded by 255 frozen corpses. She dragged herself to the bridge, fingers shaking as she tried the distress beacon. Nothing. She called to the ship’s AI daemon. Silence. Desperate, she combed through system logs. The last contact with Earth had been over fifty years old.
Nora’s breath had come too fast. The truth had settled over her like lead: she was alone.
Nora drifted on the edge of sleep. For a moment she was back in the pod. Antiseptic in her nose. Cold metal on her tongue. Ringing in her ears like the first sound in the universe. Her vision blurred. She gasped suddenly, ripped awake again.
She sat on the edge of her bunk, leg bouncing uncontrollably. Her hands fidgeted in her lap. The nightmare—always the same nightmare—never let her go.
Hours later she sat at the small table in her pod, picking at a prepackaged meal. Headphones pressed against her ears, music dulling the silence. She wasn’t hungry. She rarely was. But she forced herself to eat, if only to keep going one more day. Survival, not hope.
When she finished, she sighed and stripped the headphones off, groaning at the quiet that filled their place. She cleaned her pod—wiping, folding, straightening. One of the only things that kept her tethered. The vents above hissed as if exhaling with her.
Later, steam wrapped around her in the shower. The water was one of her last comforts and she lingered until her skin warmed. Dried and wrapped in a towel, she hummed softly while she chose a fresh jumpsuit. They were all identical, but she pretended to weigh her options, shaking her head until she “chose” one. Small rituals against the void.
But when the routine ended, the dread seeped back in. She grabbed her headphones and wandered the ship. Corridors stretched empty in every direction, the hum of the engines following like a shadow. Lights flickered as she passed, as if the Daedalus itself was reluctant to stay awake.
Her steps slowed outside the cryochamber doors. The glowing sign above seemed too bright, too insistent, like a warning she didn’t want to face. The ship creaked and groaned, as if it sensed the horror in Nora's mind.
“They deserve a proper rest,” she whispered, breath trembling.
She closed her eyes, drew in air heavy with recycled metal, and placed her hand on the door.
✍️ Author’s Note
I loved leaning more into the horror and existentialism and I wanted this story to be darker than RSW.
📖 Continue the Journey
➡️ Next Volume