the
universe; bits and pieces of conversations emerge out of the static between the planets.
But I was in way out, in deep space, hence my present predicament which would shortly become a
plight - in, oh, I don't know, another fifty-three minutes?
'Speak again,' I said. 'Is there anyone there?'
'Lonely,' said the voice.
'So you said. I'm lonely too. Where are you? Can you come and get me? Guide this pod? I'm running
out of air,' I tried not to sound too desperate.
'Cold,' said the voice. It sounded like a man.
'Yes it certainly is,' I agreed. My surge of hope died. If this was some last cruel trick of the
gods, I hoped they were laughing themselves sick. But at least I had someone to talk to, even though
it was just a spectre.
'Let me in,' pleaded the voice.
'Love to, but I can't open this pod in space,' I told it. 'Only in atmosphere. So you'll just
have to talk to me.'
'Who?' asked the voice.
'Sebastian Reynolds, first mate, StarRover, a good ship until she developed some explosive engine
trouble and we all got thrown out here. I hope the others made it. I was the last to go. We shoved
the families and the couples out first. But I had no one. Still haven't,' I concluded. 'You can call
me Sabi. What's your name?'
'Spectre,' said the voice, after a pause for thought.
'Nice to meet you, though it would've been better if I didn't have, let's see, forty-three
minutes left to live. I would've taken you to my favourite bar and bought you a drink. Mars ale, the
finest that Syria Planum could provide. Tastes wonderful, once you get over it being blue.'
I was not really expecting a reply. These electronic ghost words almost never make so much as a
sentence and they are not responsive. Unless you are sitting in an escape pod with twenty-eight
minutes left to breathe. And hallucinating an Imaginary Friend to comort your inevitable death.
'Let me come in,' breathed Spectre, sounding closer and louder.
'I can't,' I replied. 'I wish I could.'
Now was not the time to remember all those merry ghost stories about pods found with the occupant
all wizened and drained of blood by space vampies who projected through the walls. But, I thought,
so what, I was dying anyway - in twenty one minutes.
'Will you harm me?' I asked, a stupid thing to say.
'No,' sighed Spectre. 'I'll love you.'
Probably to death, but the odds were not in my favour for living more than eighteen more minutes,
so I said: 'Come in, Spectre,' and opened my arms.
And he flowed through the hull - a lovely man-shape made of starlight - and wrapped
himself around me and sank onto me, icy, beautiful, and so cold that I thought he was just death in
another form. But in the atmosphere of my pod he warmed to human temperature and kissed me with lips
that felt real, and coupled with me with a human body, so that I wondered if he was just a terminal
hallucination my brain had given me to soften my dying.
Nice going, brain, I thought, as I stroked smooth buttocks, pulling them closer, and felt Spectre
arch against me, gasping without breath into my mouth. I could only see him as a shimmering outline,
but I could feel him as though blood pumped in his veins.
'Let me come in,' he pleaded, and I laid myself flat and open for him, and I have never felt so
dissolved, so possessed. Something entered me. Something came to an orgasm as I did.
Was his semen starlight, I wondered. His passion was scorching,his love was like a supernova. No
one had ever loved me like that.
'Warm,' said Spectre, snuggling close to me, fingers searching my face as though he had never
touched a human. 'So warm and sweet.'
That lovemaking must have taken up all my remaining time, so I kissed his hands, palm and back,
and whispered: 'Goodbye, Spectre, I'm so sorry I can't stay.'
And he kissed tears from my eyes and…
I didn't die. Or, perhaps, I already had. The counter had run to zero minus thirty minutes. I was
out of air and dead. Except that I wasn't.
'Are you keeping me alive?' I asked
universe; bits and pieces of conversations emerge out of the static between the planets.
But I was in way out, in deep space, hence my present predicament which would shortly become a
plight - in, oh, I don't know, another fifty-three minutes?
'Speak again,' I said. 'Is there anyone there?'
'Lonely,' said the voice.
'So you said. I'm lonely too. Where are you? Can you come and get me? Guide this pod? I'm running
out of air,' I tried not to sound too desperate.
'Cold,' said the voice. It sounded like a man.
'Yes it certainly is,' I agreed. My surge of hope died. If this was some last cruel trick of the
gods, I hoped they were laughing themselves sick. But at least I had someone to talk to, even though
it was just a spectre.
'Let me in,' pleaded the voice.
'Love to, but I can't open this pod in space,' I told it. 'Only in atmosphere. So you'll just
have to talk to me.'
'Who?' asked the voice.
'Sebastian Reynolds, first mate, StarRover, a good ship until she developed some explosive engine
trouble and we all got thrown out here. I hope the others made it. I was the last to go. We shoved
the families and the couples out first. But I had no one. Still haven't,' I concluded. 'You can call
me Sabi. What's your name?'
'Spectre,' said the voice, after a pause for thought.
'Nice to meet you, though it would've been better if I didn't have, let's see, forty-three
minutes left to live. I would've taken you to my favourite bar and bought you a drink. Mars ale, the
finest that Syria Planum could provide. Tastes wonderful, once you get over it being blue.'
I was not really expecting a reply. These electronic ghost words almost never make so much as a
sentence and they are not responsive. Unless you are sitting in an escape pod with twenty-eight
minutes left to breathe. And hallucinating an Imaginary Friend to comort your inevitable death.
'Let me come in,' breathed Spectre, sounding closer and louder.
'I can't,' I replied. 'I wish I could.'
Now was not the time to remember all those merry ghost stories about pods found with the occupant
all wizened and drained of blood by space vampies who projected through the walls. But, I thought,
so what, I was dying anyway - in twenty one minutes.
'Will you harm me?' I asked, a stupid thing to say.
'No,' sighed Spectre. 'I'll love you.'
Probably to death, but the odds were not in my favour for living more than eighteen more minutes,
so I said: 'Come in, Spectre,' and opened my arms.
And he flowed through the hull - a lovely man-shape made of starlight - and wrapped
himself around me and sank onto me, icy, beautiful, and so cold that I thought he was just death in
another form. But in the atmosphere of my pod he warmed to human temperature and kissed me with lips
that felt real, and coupled with me with a human body, so that I wondered if he was just a terminal
hallucination my brain had given me to soften my dying.
Nice going, brain, I thought, as I stroked smooth buttocks, pulling them closer, and felt Spectre
arch against me, gasping without breath into my mouth. I could only see him as a shimmering outline,
but I could feel him as though blood pumped in his veins.
'Let me come in,' he pleaded, and I laid myself flat and open for him, and I have never felt so
dissolved, so possessed. Something entered me. Something came to an orgasm as I did.
Was his semen starlight, I wondered. His passion was scorching,his love was like a supernova. No
one had ever loved me like that.
'Warm,' said Spectre, snuggling close to me, fingers searching my face as though he had never
touched a human. 'So warm and sweet.'
That lovemaking must have taken up all my remaining time, so I kissed his hands, palm and back,
and whispered: 'Goodbye, Spectre, I'm so sorry I can't stay.'
And he kissed tears from my eyes and…
I didn't die. Or, perhaps, I already had. The counter had run to zero minus thirty minutes. I was
out of air and dead. Except that I wasn't.
'Are you keeping me alive?' I asked
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