Etched in Stardust

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Aisha stretched a hand up from the Glassfield into the sky, uncurling her fingers to catch the flitting ghosts of light as they danced. They never let her, they flitted out of the way before her yearning fingers drew close enough. 
Dewflies. The colour of sapphires, shining and glittering like stars, held aloft on thin wispy strands of silk. They always preceded the rainy season, and always came riding on the coattails of the Stardust Meteor Shower, filling the skies above with complementary burning cashmere. 
The entire event became synonymous with the ringing in of the New Year, MST Calendars be damned—their year didn’t tick over, ‘not until the Stardust danced’, and turned to the first of the torrential Autumn rains.
Aisha perched on a plot of land at the centre of a mighty Glass scar. Peeling off into the horizon in either directions, the first ghosts of mountains could be seen to her East, and the thin shapes of trees at the edge of the Glassland’s scar off to the West were illuminated so faintly in the dim blue of night. 
The Dewflies stayed aloft on microscopic wind currents, always separate. If two became entangled, then they would sever their strands and flit away, finding a perch with which to weave a new strand to stay aloft with. Bioluminescent light pulsed in a random pattern, synchronised only with their partners, creating a wave of shimmering blue that spread from a random central point, out into the periphery of the mile-long swarm.
Isolated, independent, yet coordinated.
Life for the colony now meant silence. No calls, Comms, nor couriers came in, none left. No knowledge of wider affairs, no point of reference. Tuners, telescopes, and traffic stilled their chatter, and instead turned to idle monitoring.
The Colonial web fell silent, now there were only the Dewflies; their precious terrestrial stars.
The silence in the sky allowed them to see far more than usual. 
Aisha paid good Credits to see, today. A modified telescope, expensive and fragile, sat drilled into the Glass next to her supine body. She couldn’t even call it a ‘Telescope’. By definition it performed the same, acted the same, and looked the same, but the behemoth was not the garden variety you gave to a child expressing an interest in skywatching.
It took her all day to set up. Modified on commission to peer much farther, see much clearer. If she pointed it at another body in this system, she’d see it with such clarity she could count the clouds on its surface, if it had them.
Instead, Aisha arced it not at another body in the system, but at something much farther. Peering not at space, but at the passage of time, so far it took Light years to cross. She’d drilled the tripod down, attached the targeting apparatus and computer to the side. She’d calibrated the lens to the exact specifications she was given—a thousand Credits—and sat back to watch the Dewflies once she was done. Sat back to watch, and remember.
She needed to see it. Needed the ‘Scope to see, even if it turned out to be a long-exposure still-image, blurry and muddled on the display screen..
A wristwatch beeped on her forearm, warbling at her that the time had come.
Sitting up, smoothing the tresses of her hair, Aisha peered down at the computer screen she’d had attached to the ‘Scope, and flicked the last switch she needed to. 
Aisha hoped the ‘Scope could see. In a few hours the Dewflies would leave, the Stardust shower would stop, and the first rains of Autumn would soak the Glassing scar, and she wouldn’t be able to see or remember anymore, forced to retreat with her ‘Scope and her memories back into the still-vibrant grasslands of the colony, where life continued as normal..
There were no grasslands out here anymore, which is why she came. Clear skies, clearer terrain, smoothed by plasma scouring a decade ago. She cast her eyes to the eyepiece. It was time..
Her screen winked on, displaying a proud blue and green orb in quality that left much to be desired. To Aisha it was the most beautiful planet she’d ever seen, Dewflies and Stardust shower be damned.
Jewel of the UEG, the Crucible—so many names. On her scope it appeared as a faint and blurry blue orb nestled and inlaid against black velvet. A shining paradise that proved humanity could colonise beyond the reach of their Cradle, bulwark and mighty stronghold of their military might.
Then it exploded.
August 13th. The first Glassing beam scorched the surface, forever marring it with a circular molten wound that would never heal. The first of many, and a turning point for the battle that raged over its pristine face.
This is what she paid a thousand Credits to be able to see. A battle long since passed, on a planet long dead, fought by ghosts who would never be seen, in a star system ten Light Years away. She paid to see the faintest traces of light, in whatever quality she could.
Here, out among the Glassfields, Aisha sat with just the ‘Scope, the spectres of a war long finished dancing on a computer screen, and the Dewflies. 
Like a Vid she knew the ending of, yet hoped for a different outcome all the same, the pale reflection of the Battle of Reach played out in front of her. Every now and then her gaze would switch between the blurry visage of a dying world, and the stars up above her.
Comets still raced through the sky, dotted amidst the glitter of a thousand dewflies, and a hundred thousand stars. The Galaxy still turned as the ghosts plaid their part in the battle. One glassing beam gave way to another, then a third.
How many others were turning telescopes and observatories skyward to watch? Earth was around the same distance away, were they watching? Or were the ghosts playing only for her?
Out among the Dewflies, it was easy to be selfish enough to think she was the only one watching, that they played out the battle just for her. A thousand credits admission fee for a private show of the end of her world.
Aisha didn’t allow herself to cry, only to watch. No room for laments, no room for mourning. The mourning had come and gone, it was over. Now was only for remembrance. The anniversary of a tragedy, and the quiet silence that came with it.
The silence is what let her remember.
She laid herself back down on the glass, turned to her side, watching the screen with distant eyes peering through it rather than at it.
There she’d remain, prone on the Glass, until the Stardust turned to rain.
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Category:The Weekly
Category:Short stories