Space

A string of poems set in a spaceship. The alien life force has taken over the vessel and that is what it indeed requests, Captain. But why? I don’t know, sir. I wish I knew. Some matters are an issue of math. Some are a matter of negotiation. Some are a matter of the rules by which we fly through the corridors of space — you signal the relevant watch station before plunging into a wormhole, for instance, but this … And what kind of poetry does it want, Ensign? The only bit of language we’ve been able to decode from it so far is “Stars,” sir. Stars? That’s all it’s saying: “Stars. Stars, stars, stars. Stars.”