The Infinite Passenger
January 24, 2025
The Celestial Dream was a luxury starliner, cruising through the vibrant expanse of the Gamma Veil Nebula. Its passengers dined on delicacies, danced in grand halls, and gazed at the swirling cosmos through vast panoramic windows. For Chief Engineer Callum Voss, however, it was just another shift in the endless hum of machinery.
“Deck 7 reports another systems glitch,” said Ellie, his junior tech, over the comm. “Lights flickered, but they’re stable now.”
Callum sighed, wiping a smear of grease off his hands. “Another one? That’s the third today.”
“Yeah,” Ellie replied. “Weird thing is, the diagnostics aren’t showing anything wrong.”
“I’ll take a look,” Callum said, grabbing his toolkit.
Deck 7 was quieter than usual, its normally bustling promenade eerily empty. Callum stepped out of the lift and paused. The air felt heavier here, colder.
“Ellie, you sure this was just a flicker?” he asked, glancing around.
“Positive,” she replied. “But if it’s creeping you out, I can—”
Her voice cut off, replaced by static.
“Ellie? You there?” Callum tapped his comm, but the line was dead.
As he walked deeper into the promenade, the lights above dimmed, then flickered. Shadows stretched unnaturally long, pooling like ink.
“Hello?” he called out, his voice echoing down the empty corridor.
A faint noise answered—soft, rhythmic, like footsteps.
“Who’s there?” Callum demanded, his grip tightening on his toolkit.
The footsteps stopped, and for a moment, there was only silence. Then a whisper:
“Why… did you leave me?”
Callum froze. The voice was faint, fragmented, and hauntingly familiar.
“Who’s there?” he repeated, his heart pounding.
The lights flickered again, and a figure appeared at the far end of the corridor. It was humanoid, but wrong. Its form wavered, like static on a screen, and its face was an indistinct blur.
Callum took a step back. “Stay where you are!”
The figure tilted its head, as though studying him. “You forgot me,” it said, its voice layered with sorrow and anger.
“Forgot you? I don’t know you!” Callum said, his voice shaking.
The figure moved closer, its distorted form gliding unnaturally.
“You do,” it said, and its voice splintered into a cacophony of echoes. “I was with you. Always. But you left me behind.”
Callum’s mind raced. Memories surfaced—of a failed mission years ago, a research station on the edge of a collapsing star. He and his team had evacuated just in time… all except one.
“No,” he whispered, his throat dry. “That’s impossible. You didn’t make it.”
“I didn’t,” the figure replied, its form flickering violently. “But I found something in the void. And now, I’m part of it.”
The walls around them seemed to warp, the corridor stretching into infinity. The ship groaned as though alive, and the figure’s shape grew, towering over Callum.
“You left me to die,” it said, its voice booming. “And now, I’ll never leave you.”
The shadows engulfed Callum as the Celestial Dream shuddered violently.
When the passengers and crew awoke, the ship was adrift, its systems scrambled, its Chief Engineer gone.
In the black box logs, a faint voice could be heard, repeating the same words over and over:
“You’ll never leave me again.”