Backpost: Seven Days at Pathfinder Station: Day Five: The Echo Deck

Posted on Tue Oct 21st, 2025 @ 1:11am by Lieutenant JG Theodor Wishmore

Mission: Port of Call
Location: Pathfinder Station; Unfinished deck
Timeline: Mission Day 12 at 1300

As the days passed, Theo had started becoming more curious about the incomplete starbase that had housed him for the past few days.

The unfinished deck was supposed to be off-limits, but no one had the energy to stop him.

Theo’s boots echoed over the unpolished plating as he walked past half-installed light strips and crates of materials waiting for a crew that wouldn’t come until next month. The atmosphere was stable, the temperature low, and the silence—nearly perfect.

He found the piano near the viewport: covered with a sheet of synthcloth, keys faintly yellowed, a tag still fixed to one leg that read Rec Deck 2A — for delivery.

He stood there for a long moment before pulling the cloth away.

His mother had loved the piano. He could still remember the shape of her hands guiding his — the quiet insistence of her smile when he struck the wrong note, the way she believed music could teach patience, grace, control. He had learned it all for her.

He pressed one key, then another. The sound echoed longer than it should have, lingering against the curved metal ribs of the unfinished hull. He began to play without thinking — a melody that wasn’t really a song, just fragments and pauses, chords he remembered from long ago.

When the sound faded, another voice answered from the shadows.

“That current you make — it moves differently here.”

He turned. A figure stood at the edge of the light, tall and slender, skin faintly opalescent along the throat. A Monean.

“Didn’t mean to disturb anyone,” Theo said.

“You didn’t disturb,” the Monean said, stepping closer. Their voice was calm, flowing, each syllable shaped by a subtle rhythm. “You shifted the harmonics. The air here carries resonance from the outer frame — but your instrument made it change direction.”

Theo smiled faintly. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“I study sound,” they explained. “On Monea, our cities rest in the water’s embrace. Pressure, movement, tone — all must be in harmony or the structure fails. We listen to our buildings breathe. But this sound…” They paused, searching for words. “It is fragile. And yet it holds shape.”

Theo’s fingers brushed the keys again. “Air’s a bit harder to control than water.”

The Monean tilted their head, a faint shimmer of bioluminescence crossing their gill lines. “And yet you shape it beautifully.”

“It’s just something I do to pass the time,” Theo said.

“Perhaps,” the Monean murmured, “but even currents born of waiting can find purpose.”

They stepped closer, studying the instrument. “May I listen again? Properly?”

He played. A slower piece this time — low, patient chords that filled the metal chamber. The Monean stood still, eyes half-closed, body moving faintly with the rhythm as though feeling the sound against their skin. When the last note faded, they opened their eyes, luminous and soft.

“It reminds me of our oceans at twilight,” they said quietly. “When light bends through the surface and everything becomes both water and sky.”

Theo’s smile was small, genuine. “That’s not a bad comparison.”

“Would you play again, another day?” they asked. “Perhaps when the construction noise has gone. I would bring one of our instruments — a resonance harp. It might answer your piano.”

He hesitated, surprised by the warmth that flickered in the question. Then he nodded. “All right. In a few days, then.”

“In a few days,” the Monean echoed. “When your ship comes, you will play again before you leave. The sound should not end unfinished.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Theo said.

The Monean smiled — a ripple of soft light across their throat. “Good. Then this space will remember us both.”

Theo watched them go, the sound of their footsteps fading into the hum of the station. When he looked back to the piano, the silence felt alive again — not empty, but waiting.

And for the first time since he’d arrived, waiting didn’t feel quite so lonely.