Descending Road - READING THE EPITAPH by Dana W. Paxson

READING THE EPITAPH

0 NC, Day –2, Hour 1540

Her rest lasted only a few minutes. She came awake with a start, a voice receding from her in a dark, chilly dream; she lay shivering until she heard muffled giggles and thumps from one of the nearby bunks. Annoyed, she pulled on an extra layer and left the tiny room, kicking forward through a damaged sector, then working her way outward to the ship’s skin, tracing the ruin of one bulkhead after another. What could have bent these heavy plates and melted them like this? She looked out through an armored window at the unblinking moon glare. It shone into the chamber where she hung, onto an inner bulkhead wall.

The wall bore a script carefully welded into the steel, the language halting, wandering, final:

My name is Douglas MacNee. The ship woke me in 6163. A rock passed the prow shield at an angle. It punctured the second backup power-supply heat controls. I was the third awakened. Two others did not survive the waking. They were Thomas Chi and Alyssha Riley.

All the repairs are done now. I cannot return to the long sleep. When you walk this place and read my words, think of Thomas and Alyssha and me.

May the One God who made these faraway stars remember us all and find us in this darkness. May God always find you and speak your name.

Douglas.

Miriam turned away, and began the route back to her quarters. The air seemed hard to breathe, and she just wanted to sleep, now. Douglas MacNee had died more than seven thousand years ago.

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	READING THE EPITAPH 0 NC, Day –2, Hour 1540 Her rest lasted only a few minutes. She came awake with a start, a voice receding from her in a dark, chilly dream; she lay shivering until she heard muffled giggles and thumps from one of the nearby bunks. Annoyed, she pulled on an extra layer and left the tiny room, kicking forward through a damaged sector, then working her way outward to the ship’s skin, tracing the ruin of one bulkhead after another. What could have bent these heavy plates and melted them like this? She looked out through an armored window at the unblinking moon glare. It shone into the chamber where she hung, onto an inner bulkhead wall. The wall bore a script carefully welded into the steel, the language halting, wandering, final: My name is Douglas MacNee. The ship woke me in 6163. A rock passed the prow shield at an angle. It punctured the second backup power-supply heat controls. I was the third awakened. Two others did not survive the waking. They were Thomas Chi and Alyssha Riley. All the repairs are done now. I cannot return to the long sleep. When you walk this place and read my words, think of Thomas and Alyssha and me. May the One God who made these faraway stars remember us all and find us in this darkness. May God always find you and speak your name. Douglas. Miriam turned away, and began the route back to her quarters. The air seemed hard to breathe, and she just wanted to sleep, now. Douglas MacNee had died more than seven thousand years ago.