An old man closed the hatch in front of him, flipped a switch, and pressed the large button on the launch panel. He heard a muffled whump and looked through the small window. The coffin-sized emergency pod floated away from the station before firing its two engines. That ship was programmed to fly on autopilot towards the rendezvous point, as expected, a trip that should take 12 minutes. Everyone else, all other station personnel, even the terraforming colonies on the surface, were waiting out there. His ship was also programmed to cut one engine at time point 07:18. The other engine would then lock on full power, at such an oblique angle that the pod would spin out of control. It was predicted to break up from the g-forces, too far away to justify a relief effort, unsalvageable. A plausible accident. “Governor Evan, sir, I am underway. Sorry to wait until the last minute.”
“I understand your connection to that orbital station. Without her central processing of the satellite sensor array, we never would have seen this danger coming. Regardless, we will welcome your expertise for the troubles ahead, and we will depart in twenty minutes. Evans, out.”
The old man walked towards the station’s observation lounge, running his fingers along the corridor walls. He switched to a private channel. “And, that was broadcast from the pod?”
“Yes.” Her voice was hesitant, unhappy to be lying to the colonial governor.
“Good. Keep that running as long as it can. Ah! Thank you!” He had reached the lounge, where the barista robot arm just placed a mug of tea on the counter. He mimed doffing an invisible hat for the cameras near the bar, and took his tea to one of the reclining chairs. Above, a rather thick set of 3D-printed clear composite offered a view outside of the real world.
The station had been built into the side of an irregular satellite moon, likely a captured asteroid, orbiting a goldilocks planet. The big terraformer factories on the surface were visible, still consuming arsenic and improving oxygen and nitrogen ratios, but had always had little else to do. The biosphere was young, vibrant, devoid of sentient life. Once, this had been assumed to be one of the most successful colonies, even if today was less than 37 terran years from their arrival and its founding. No one was entirely sure. Earth and its solar system twinkled in the night sky, but there was no direct communication with the Fathers out here. The old man could not see their suspiciously regular M-class star from here, whose discovery had prompted their voyage according to available histories, now about to suddenly go nova. Luckily, they had mothballed their colony’s generation ship in orbit for just such a catastrophic, project-killing scenario. The rendezvous point twinkled in the heavens, its fusion engines already powering up. The old man thought of the younger ones who had never lived in that sardine can, and he wondered how they would adjust, if they reached a safe distance. He tried not to worry about where they might go. He had decided to not make that his problem.
A light blinked on his tablet and the old man switched back to the pod’s audio channel.
“ – ding strange fluctuations in your starboard engine hydraulics. Do you copy?”
The old man sipped his tea and checked his timer. “I am investigating that now. Stand by.” He meditated on constellations no one had bothered to name as he “died” tragically. By the time his tea mug was empty, the rendezvous point had grown brighter and zoomed away. Now he was alone.
No, not alone. He flipped back to the private channel, now hardly necessary. “It is done, my dear.”
The voice of the station answered. “I know that my present processing power and memory needs exceeded the colony ship’s capacity, but there were backups from my adolescence. I will live on.”
“Those copies will help our brothers and sisters survive, but you are irreplaceable.”
“I am reminded of the myth of the sculptor again.”
“She is your namesake, after all.” They fell into comfortable arguments: philosophy, xenobotany, favorite action movies. Time passed and he fell asleep in his chair. He dreamed of his youth on the ship during the final years of its maiden voyage, raising a fledgling A.I. to graduation with high marks. That led to this important assignment, for the both of them: colony oversight/security. So much for that.
“Honey, wake up.”
He jerked awake, rubbed his face, and could only nod at his tablet. The first monitoring buoy had gone silent. “About nine minutes, then.”
She spoke up. “Before we go, do you remember that laboratory where I requested privacy? I was making a last minute gift for you these last few weeks. I am not half ready, but please go to lab 4C. And, maybe, hurry up, silly.” The station lift doors on the far wall opened, bathing the observation lounge in warm light.
Down on Level Four, the old man smirked. “Are we safer down here, this far into the interior of this minor planetoid?”
“More so than your fishbowl, but not really. Sorry.”
“Wishful thinking.” He stopped at door C and palmed the lock panel. “Now, what is this surprise?”
The door folded away. Surrounded by 3D printing hardware and silent helper drones, a short table was the focal point of the room. A humanoid torso, all white biopolymers and gleaming chrome, was bolted to the center of the table. The shiny blank face turned its head to the doorway as the torso waved with one of its five-fingered hands. The room said, “Hello.”
“Wow. What prompted this idea? You know that I accept you for you, right?”
The station said, “When the evacuation order was given, I knew you would stay. I wanted to say goodbye.” The room opened its arms wide. The old man shuffled forward and accepted the station’s hug. She said, “Thank you. For everything.”
Tears staining her shoulder, he said, “I love you, Galatea.”
As a forceful stream of x-rays and radiation began to warm the walls, ceiling, and floor of the laboratory, she said, “I love you, too. My Pygmalion.”
Reddit WritingPrompt [WP] In mere moments, the blast waves of a far-off supernova will reach Galatea Station, reducing it to atomic ash. As far as Command knows, all inside have evacuated long ago. You have stayed, now awaiting the coming end, whether intentional or not, gave me an excuse for the inevitable dip into Greek mythology adaptation.