Ripped Genes

A   small vessel shot out into space, insignificant to the universe, but the only refuge for the pilot. The sole Fbari inside handled the controls nervously, not having done this before. She watched her screen, and as she had practised, skilfully steered away from home despite her tension. When she had finished the tricky manoeuvring, she started to relax a bit and take in the shrinking planet behind, and shooting stars that whizzed past. At the prearranged time she turned on a repeating signal to make her little ship not so alone in space. She could at least pretend there was someone to talk to out there.

The young alien noticed she was feeling rather strange. She reached for a thick green solution and took a few sips. The high-energy, nutritious drink didn’t make her feel any better. In fact, she was starting to feel seriously ill. Breathing became difficult, and gasping, she grabbed for a respirator. After fumbling around a bit, she got it hooked up and breathed deeply. Still feeling faint, she made a decision. She would go into stasis ahead of schedule. She set the controls to automatic and climbed into the stasis chamber.