Cha squinted when she tried to open her eyes. The blinding white light of the nearby sun jumped without remorse right off the cockpit dashboard into her face. She grunted and smashed the sunshield button. Her head. She should stop drinking so much. It didn't help to forget anyway.
Slowly her pupils remembered how to dilate. Self pity. What a talent she had for it.
The ship shuddered when something scraped its shields. Cha just barely could stay seated, clinging to the seat arms. For a moment she thought she had imagined it, this stagger in the flood of radiantly happy memories playing leap-over with the excruciatingly painful ones. All 3 velocity alarms fluttered on, hesitated, then restored to normal. She tried to focus back to what was happening in the giant hole called space, but the only thing that kept her attention was the slow motion of the now empty wine bottle, falling over and rolling down over the edge of the sidetable as the stabber started to lean sideways. The bottle jumped a little dance on the floor, then decided to squash to pieces against the paneling.
They had broken up a million times and still she couldn't let go. Nor did he. But she could admit it, and he, for reasons he didn't know himself or didn't want to tell her, could not.
And so, every time they decided to step out of something that started to look like a relationship, the air cleared, they would enjoy again being around each other, laughing about the silliest stuff, discussing politics or song lyrics or ship fittings, and in between he would lift her up against the wall and send her into a series of breathtaking orgasms while a couple of hours later she would return the favor in the lavatory of the local Quafe bar. Or any variation of that. And then, invariably, she'd make some mistake, the fights would start and there they were again, back on track to the next breakup from something that supposedly wasn't even a relationship.
The ship stayed slanted, but none of the indicators announced a system failure. Silence. Cha waited for the squeaking sound of metal tearing. Nothing happened.
Nothing ever happened. Flimsy reasons.
She screamed at the ship in anger. Of course the damn ship would abandon her, right at the moment when she needed to find peace the most.
If the ship couldn't hold its balance with all its supercallifragilisticexpiallegoric nanotech wiring and components, then how could she?
Expecting too much when he didn't want to give back. So then to protect herself from a next round of pain she would decide to not give anything back either, which would sent him into a panic frenzy in return. Balance? What a joke.
The shipcomp suddenly remembered it had a voice. "Activating stabilizing compensation routines" it hicupped, and the stabber came back to horizontal.
He didn't want her, but he didn't want her to have anyone else either, and to be honest, she didn't want anyone else either. Not that she didn't try. Nor him, for that matter.
"Take me out of here", she rasped. The computer screen happily showed off its next series of improbability calculations, a heist of fresh stochastic data.
The ship hissed.
Cha's stomach jumped up in her body when it accelerated into warp, pressing her into the seat's back. She reached out and slammed the beverages automat button.
The kafak tasted terrible. In a sudden rage she threw the mug against the wall. “Hereby I baptize thee Possibly Maybe”, she screamed, and then bursted in laughter.
“Inhale”, she reminded herself.