Will we ever find them?

 

If we stop trying, we’d never know.

 

*

 

It doesn’t get any easier.

 

She told herself that it was temporary, that it was just a minor setback.

 

But it doesn’t ease the tightness in her chest, the incessant voice in the back of her mind, mocking, cruel and vile, or the grating feeling at the back of every time she breathed in.

 

(And out and in and out-

 

Is she still breathing when her lungs still burned from the lack of oxygen?)

 

She in a breath (sandy and cold, as though she will never feel warmth again) and turned the video camera on, the monitor that it was connected to blinking abruptly before settling on an image.

 

(Strands of brown hair fell out of an otherwise neat top knot, framing a pale face with dull eyes blinking slowly.)

 

Shaking her head, Wendy reached out and pressed the transmit button, pulling her back in a straight line, hands folded neatly on the table in front of her. She coughed once, twice, trying to clear the grit in her voice box before speaking, calmly (not really) and slowly (shakily, tiredly).

 

“Reset Mission, Day Forty-five. This is Captain Wendy Son speaking.”

 

(Her hands shook and she pulled them off the table, fingers in the thick material of regulation pants.)

 

“If anyone can hear me, please respond.”

 

She paused, staring at the static line that made its way slowly from the bottom of the monitor to the top, ears straining for anyone at home base to reply.

 

She only heard silence.

 

Taking in another breath, Wendy pressed the record button and trained her eyes at the camera, unable to fully look at the monitor where her image was staring straight back at her.

 

(Where helplessness was slowly drowning her.)

 

“As of now, with this recent failure of a transmission, it must mean that we have travelled beyond the range of live communications with Lagoon, as discussed in my Captain’s log.”

 

The words caught in , grinding to a halt against the lump and she slumped in her chair, a hand pushing against her forehead. She closed her eyes and let out a laugh, breathless and quiet and she shook her head. Wendy tried speaking again, the steel in her spine leaving with desperate words, words too intimate for a video log.

 

(But she can’t help herself.)

 

“I expected this - it was too much to hope that communications would hold out but I thought I had more time.”

 

She huffed again and peeked over her hand, gazing into her own eyes on the monitor, dim and lifeless.

 

“I thought we had more time, Irene.”

 

She laughed again, shaking her head and it was no longer the captain of a ship speaking.

 

Her voice came out small, seeking for a warmth she had left behind, words usually propped up on steel inlets collapsing within itself.

 

“I didn’t even say goodbye - having fought with you like that and I was so angry that you didn’t understand.”

 

Wendy pitched forward, fingers reaching out towards the camera, seeking, looking-

 

“You didn’t understand that I have to do this. That it has been a dream and that I want to explore, to see space! I know you hate the unknown, hate things you can’t control - And I left to do search the unknown, left you because I just wanted- “

 

She cut herself off, fingers curling into a fist and she pressed it against , knuckles cutting against teeth.

 

It took a beat before Wendy continued.

 

“I- That’s not what I want to say. I love you, Irene. It comes from the blood that pounds through my veins and with every beat that my heart makes but I have to do this. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

 

She sat there in silence, eyes focused into the distance, seeing but not really seeing in front of her.

 

The seconds ticked by, a long pause before Wendy sighed, palms wiping away at glistening cheeks roughly. She reached for the monitor, fingers hovering over the buttons and looked into the camera, worn and broken and all things that stardust weren’t.

 

“I love you. Irene. If you can hear me, I love you.”

 

The monitor blinked once before fading to black.

 

*

 

Why can’t you just be proud of me?!

 

I am proud of you! I just want to be proud of you here!

 

*

 

“Still coming up blank??”

 

Irene looked up from the panel she was working on and removed the screwdriver she had grasped between her lips. She eyed Seulgi tiredly from behind thick frames, her bangs falling past her eyes as she shook her head.

 

“We just received a video recording, Captain’s logs - but live transmission? It’s probably a pipe dream about now.”

 

Seulgi bit her lip, tension curling her shoulders tight enough for Irene to see. She shook her head and turned back to the panel she was working on, choosing not to comment on the obvious disappointment lining Seulgi’s edges. Twisting two wires together and taping them down with electrical duct tape, Irene continued speaking, trying to sound as offhand as she could.

 

“The video has everyone on board. It’s lucky that it managed to get through, even with a connection as weak as theirs. Maybe you want to watch it in the viewing chamber?”

 

She continued to fiddle with the control panel, humming aimlessly as Seulgi took in her words, only really reacting when her friend murmured softly, quiet words tempered like broken glass.

 

“I will get to that. Thank you.”

 

(There were words behind words, pieces of glass that never made it to surface.

 

Thank you for telling me.

 

Thank you for letting me see her.

 

But Irene ignored it.)

 

She waited for Seulgi to exit the room, waited for the familiar whoosh of the automatic door before surfacing, her tools laying uselessly on the floor next to an equally despondent control board. She placed her tablet on a free space against a row of buttons that littered the rest of the desk, Wendy’s teary face frozen, a pixelated painting behind a screen that would never bring her to life.

 

(She doesn’t think about the amount of replays the video had.)

 

Irene started flicking at the buttons, her motions jerky but automatic, movements born through practice and repetition and soon enough, the holograph in front of her lit up, her haggard expression taking over the screen, a blinking green light in the corner cluing her to the live transmission. She blinked and pressed another button, watching as block letter flashed at the bottom, signalling that the transmission was now on record.

 

(A live transmission received by no one.

 

A video recording that may not reach.)

 

Clearing , Irene sat on the chair behind her, the smooth surface cold against her thighs, despite the thick material of regulation pants.

 

“Lagoon, Day Fifty-two of Reset Mission. This is Major Irene Bae speaking.”

 

She paused, faltering between being professional (talk about the broken connection, the lack of communication, reports no one will ever hear) and just replying the video that had long since been memorised.

 

made the decision for her, a shaky breath releasing a torrent of words, apologies, hope, the lack of it swirling into a torrent of almost incomprehensible sentences.

 

“I’m still angry. God- you can’t- I love you too but this is - Don’t you get it, I can’t have you gone, I can’t lose you- But I know I’ve been unfair, that I made you choose between the stars and us - And it hurts that you still-”

 

She cut herself off, afraid of the anger that had long turned into desperation, into frustration of not getting this right. Her fingers gripped against the table tightly and Irene took a deep breath, eyes falling shut as she tried to rearrange her thoughts before speaking again.

 

(She doesn’t open her eyes, doesn’t want to see her emotions reflecting back at her.

 

Doesn’t want to see the same emotions etching the lines of Wendy’s face.)

 

“I am still angry. But I understand. But you have to understand that five years is a very long time, Wendy. Five years on a mission that may or may not succeed. Five years to explore and travel and it’s enough time to make sure that you won’t return.”

 

Irene pressed the palms of her hands to face, willing for the tears to stay behind closed lids.

 

“It’s been fifty two days, almost two months and we’ve already lost communication. I can’t even talk to you anymore and everyone on the team knows that getting videos is a miracle in itself when communications are so-”

 

Her lips thinned considerably, not wanting to voice it out.

 

(If it forms, it will be real.

 

Irene won’t let it be real.)

 

Instead she dropped her hands, opening her eyes so that the video can catch the sincerity behind her words, hoping that pixels and blank screens could transmit what she truly wanted to say.

 

“I miss you. I miss you so much and it doesn’t get easier. It’s a lie that people say when your chest is caving in itself.”

 

(I miss you.

 

I love you.

 

Please come back.)

 

She chuckled, a dark sound that contained no mirth.

 

“I’m trying my best to restore connection. I’m not the only one that has been affected, Seulgi has been asking after- Well, she’s been asking.”

 

Irene paused, staring at the screen, staring past the screen and she tried to pull her lips into a smile.

 

(She succeeded somewhat.)

 

“I love you. I will always love you.”

 

She in a breath, watching the way her lips curve downwards without the strings of hope to hold them up.

 

“I just wanted you to know that if - when you get this. I love you, Wendy Son.”

 

Irene trailed off, staring at the screen once again and reached for a silver button to her left. The green dot flashed to red and her face froze on the holograph, video ready and waiting for a recipient. Her fingers lingered over the keyboard before she started typing, random numbers and alphabets long seared into her brain.

 

(Wendy.

 

Wendy.

 

Wendy.)

 

Her elbow knocked her tablet over, a soft voice playing from the speakers.

 

“I- That’s not what I want to say. I love you, Irene. It comes from the blood that pounds through my veins and with every beat that my heart makes but I have to do this. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

 

Irene in a breath. The tears that were held back soon made their way down her cheeks as the chasm in between her ribcage widened.

 

“I love you. Irene. If you can hear me, I love you.”

 

Irene pressed enter and whispered to herself, without a camera, without a witness-

 

“Wendy. I can hear you. I love you. Wendy, I love you.”

 

*

 

What do you mean communications are down?!

 

It’s just that- It looks like they aren’t in range?

 

What?!

 

*

 

“Yes!”

 

Wendy ducked just in time to avoid a hammer flying at her face, the tool hitting the side of the ship loudly before spinning on the ground. Shaking her head, Wendy felt the corner of her lips pull up slightly, watching as her colleague continued to celebrate on her own. Making her way over to the monitor, Wendy tapped Joy on the shoulder, narrowly avoiding another attempt at taking her face off when Joy spun around while waving a wrench dangerously.

 

“Holy- Sorry, Wen- Captain!”

 

Wendy laughed, a sound hoarded selfishly on this trip and waved a hand, peering around the taller woman curiously.

 

“What are we celebrating?”

 

Joy’s face broke out into a wide smile, taking away the years that they had accumulated whilst lost in space and pointed towards the monitor, the screen blinking rapidly as green lettering littered the black space.

 

“We are celebrating the fact that I’m a genius and managed to find a way to send videos out!”

 

Wendy’s fingers folded in quickly, her pulse racing and her voice steady.

 

“You’re sure?”

 

Joy nodded, her smile still on her lips, even as it was dimming.

 

“Yep. It’s not a big window and we might lose it soon but-”

 

The smile slid off the younger woman’s face as she turned back towards the monitor.

 

“It’s something at least. Who knows, maybe I’d be able to restore the connection after this success.”

 

Wendy nodded, eyes moving over to the monitor.

 

“You should make the video. There’s so many of us- it might-”

 

Joy reigned in her words, uncharacteristically sloppy as they were and huffed, her face looking older than before.

 

“It’s best if you send our regards to them. I don’t know if a big file will make it out.”

 

(I don’t know if we would be able to record everyone’s pain and sadness.

 

I don’t know if they will hear our pleas to not give up hope.)

 

Moving past the engineer, Wendy made her way to the chair in front of the console and gripped the back of it tightly. She chose not to look at Joy as she spoke, knowing that the same broken pieces would be reflected in the younger woman’s eyes.

 

(It was an opportunity freely given away.)

 

“Alright. If you could gather everyone’s messages, I’ll make sure to record them. Tell them to be short and precise, thank you.”

 

She didn’t move until Joy came back with the messages, choosing instead to stare blankly at the panel in front of her.

 

It took less time than anticipated for Joy to collect the messages from a crew of twenty four people but she made it back quickly. The engineer did not say a word as she placed the tablet on the console, choosing instead to squeeze Wendy’s bicep before leaving again.

 

It was only when she heard Joy slide the door shut that she moved, sinking into the metal chair in front of her heavily. Barely holding herself together, Wendy started flicking the buttons in a precise motion, her hand blurring slightly at the speed she was punching the buttons.

 

(How much time did they have?)

 

Something that should have been a victory for them turned sour at the thought that each moment, each brief caress with contact had to be chased, salvaged like water in a desert. Joy should have been celebrating her prowess but instead, the dark around them, the never ending silence took it away, layering the positive thoughts with negative scenarios, always a reminder of how bleak their reality was.

 

Wendy took a deep breath and pressed record, eyes barely meeting her own in the monitor.

 

“Reset Mission, Day One Hundred and Fifteen. This is Captain Wendy Son speaking.”

 

Her tone wavered just as she ended her introduction, barely stabling when she in a deep breath.

 

“Joy- Lieutenant Park managed to get a window for us to send out a data burst and - She’s- She thinks she would be able to keep this up and maybe restore connection.”

 

(Lies.)

 

“For the time being, we will make do with recordings and -”

 

Her face fell, the camera capturing every line and shadow that came with it. Her hand shuddered when she raised it to run her fingers through her messy hair, tight bun long forgone in the midst of space.

 

“I miss you.”

 

She doesn’t have to say Irene’s name for the recipient to know who she meant it for. Her voice, her tone, everything about Wendy telegraphed it loudly.

 

“It’s been thirty days since your video. It’s been thirty days since we’ve received any form of contact from Lagoon or even a link to Earth-”

 

She took a breath, barely holding back a frantic giggle.

 

“It’s hard. It’s eating away at all of us, constantly grating at our blunted edges and taking away the smiles.”

 

Her eyes met with the camera, a poor substitute for the person she really wants to see.

 

“Joy has been laughing a little less. Jessica has been even quieter. Nana spends all her time in the gallows. And I-”

 

She broke off, wondering how exactly to put the chasm that threatened to swallow her into words.

 

“I just miss you so much. It aches. Right here. In my chest. It’s been thirty days and we’re all losing our smiles because there’s no link, nothing in front of us to find and-”

 

Her fingers brushed past the tablet by her side, where words of love and tears littered the white screen, both impersonal and soul baring at the same time. Her head snapped to it, as though she was looking at it for the first time. Blinking, Wendy raised her head back to the camera and laughed, a soft, broken sound that she didn’t know she could make.

 

“And I’m not the only one with messages for loved ones. Right. I totally - I lost myself for a moment there.”

 

She pulled the tablet in front of her and settled into her chair a little more.

 

“I have messages. The crew thought - It is unstable and it’d be best if I recorded the message by myself. But there are twenty four of us so -”

 

She trailed off and Wendy lifted the tablet for the camera to see, shrugging and waving it slightly.

 

(Like she was talking to Irene herself.)

 

“It’s going to be longer than expected. So sit tight.”

 

She read the messages methodically, barely holding back her tears at the hearts poured in front of her, wrenching in ways short paragraphs and words could be. Each message tore at her chest a little more and by the end of it, it was taking all of Wendy’s will to keep from sobbing. She placed the tablet aside and pressed her hands to her face, muttering softly, more for herself than the video before looking back up, eyes red even in the recording.

 

“That’s it from us. I hope this reaches you sooner than later. And maybe... maybe we’ll get something back too.”

 

She reached forward, about to turn the recording off when she paused, unable to help herself from saying it one more time.

 

(How many more times can she say it?

 

How many will reach?)

 

“I love you, Irene.”

 

She pressed the button quickly, the video buffering and spinning on the screen just as her tears escaped from the corners of her eyes.

 

Wendy doesn’t watch as the file was sent out.

 

*

 

What’s wrong with the link, why is it-

 

Maybe they are too far.

 

Then we should-

 

*

 

A finger came down on the pause button, startling Irene out of her stupor. Blinking rapidly, unaware of the tears that had pooled at the corner of her eyes, Irene looked up, finding Tiffany standing there, a look of disapproval set on her pretty face. The older woman lifted her finger and pointed it towards Irene, bypassing protocols of addressing an officer to lecture.

 

“Stop wallowing! I swear, these days, you’re either hunkered down by a communications panel somewhere or watching this extremely depressing video.”

 

Irene pushed the offending joint away, choosing to instead turn the video off, sending Wendy’s crying face into darkness. She laced her fingers together and eyed Tiffany, pulled down in a scowl.

 

“I’m not wallowing. I’m just trying to figure out how to re-establish a stable connection before-”

 

Tiffany cut her off sharply, digging past flimsy excuses and overused defences and burrowing straight to the main point.

 

“You’re not the only one missing someone.”

 

Irene froze at the blunt statement, mere words tearing apart her paper thin walls, searing into worn flesh and ripping apart the hole in her chest she called a heart.

 

It was all she could do to not claw at herself.

 

She looked away, laced fingers coming up to cover the bottom half of her face.

 

A tired sound that came from the bottom of Tiffany’s throat and scratched its way to the surface, the stoic brunette reaching out to dig a knuckle into Irene’s forehead. She rubbed at pale skin roughly, fondly before speaking again, this time less prickly and more soft, a lecture that sounded more like a plea.

 

“I know it’s hard, not being able to see them, to let them know that we’re still here waiting. That we’ll always be looking and waiting. But wallowing isn’t the answer.”

 

Her words came out muffled, gruff from the tears she hasn’t been able to shed.

 

“Then what is the answer? I’m trying everything, I’ve tried everything.”

 

Irene pushed her face against Tiffany’s hand, forcing the other woman to open it, palm hot against her forehead, fingers cradling Irene’s temple gently.

 

“I have to find them. I have to say - I completely shut her out and I didn’t manage to say goodbye and-”

 

Her hands fell to her lap, limp and pale against her dark pants, voice cracking as she admitted softly.

 

“What if the last thing she has of me is my anger?”

 

Tiffany’s fingers slipped down past her eye and cradled her jaw, forcing Irene to look at her in the eye. There was a fierceness behind dull brown eyes, overwhelming the bruises which were a copy of Irene’s layering beneath. The older woman spoke quietly, steel propping her every word.

 

“Listen to me. Don’t you dare give up. Don’t give up on them. We’re going to find a way. We’re going to find a way to reach them and we’ll each tell them whatever it is in our hearts to their faces. And then when they make it home, there will be hugs, there will be tears and it will be magnificent.”

 

Unceremoniously and because it was Tiffany, where physical affection would always trump kind words, the older woman pulled Irene into a hug. Irene’s face was smooshed into the material of her uniform, warm and comforting in ways she had missed since Red-0801 had gone off the radar. She brought her arms up and hugged Tiffany back just as tightly, tears falling freely now, with wishes that the other woman could also make the chasm in her chest go away.

 

(But it would seem like her hugs could only go so far.)

 

They remained in that position for a while longer, Tiffany rocking them from side to side and humming, Irene trying to burrow deeper.

 

(Deeper and deeper until she was under her skin, where Tiffany could protect her from the pain of her own doing.)

 

“Don’t give up yet, Irene. Hope is what we have to go on. And-”

 

The brunette pulled away from the hug slightly, just enough to see Irene’s face. Irene looked up, drawing strength from the way Tiffany could still smile in a situation like this.

 

(Could still smile when the hole between her ribs matched Irene’s.)

 

“We can still have conversations with them, we can still remind them that we are still waiting. If Joy can find a window to send out a data burst, we sure as hell can do the same. We just have to make do with videos for now. And who knows? Maybe later on, we will be able to have a proper video conversation again.”

 

Irene blinked.

 

“Really?”

 

She had never sounded so young, not since her first day in the Academy where everyone were bigger, better.

 

(Even then, it was Tiffany who held her hand and guided her.

 

And then it was Wendy.)

 

Tiffany nodded.

 

“Really. Come on, I have a plan.”

 

She broke the hug but an arm still lingered around Irene’s shoulder, their height difference just enough for Tiffany’s arm to rest comfortably even when Irene stood up.

 

The older woman shot Irene another smile and knocked their heads together softly, chiding the younger woman fondly.

 

“Don’t you give up just yet, Irene Bae. Wendy would never give up and you shouldn’t too.”

 

(Later, much later, they gathered in front of the camera like always.

 

“Reset Mission, Day One Hundred and Forty One. This is Major Irene Bae speaking.”

 

And for the first time since they had started sending videos to each other, Irene smiled.

 

“And we have a gift for the crew members aboard Red-0801.”)

 

*

 

A peal of laughter filtered through the door, muffled and quiet but it was enough to catch her attention. Wendy slowed down considerably, almost sticking her ear towards the door to listen again.

 

(Laughter rarely came by these days.)

 

She heard laughter again, louder this time, and from someone she didn’t expect.

 

Curiousity got the better of her and she tapped her wrist to the tag system, her watch lighting up briefly. The scanner beeped and the door slid open, revealing a bunch of her crew members gathered around the communications console, with the monitor fired up. Scrunching her eyebrows, Wendy made her way quietly to the back of the group, wondering what exactly were they watching that had them all so happy.

 

The gasp that escaped went unnoticed by the people around her.

 

On screen, Seulgi was currently singing softly while simultaneously trying to bat Yeri away with her hands, the young recruit determined in making the song a duet rather than an emotional solo song. Up front, Joy laughed again, teary and quiet but still happy and it was all Wendy could do to not push forward to hug her.

 

Too soon, the song finished and the video flickered. This time, Tiffany came on screen, staring at the camera blankly, very much like the old TV show, The Office. A disembodied voice (Lizzy) questioned her about different things, mainly things Jessica did that drove her crazy, and Tiffany answered everything with the same blank expression, marred only by the twitching of her lips, a smile blooming at the thought of her beloved.

 

She heard Jessica laugh again, a clear bell like sound and she was willing to bet that if she looked, the blonde would have had her hands clasped, staring at the monitor fondly enough to induce heart shaped eyes.

 

“Wendy! You’re here!”

 

Joy, unfairly tall and peering across the crew’s heads, spotted her at the back and motioned for her to come closer. At once, the people around her parted, heads lowered in respect befitting the captain of the ship.

 

(It made Wendy’s skin crawl.)

 

She made her way to the front easily, tension in her shoulders slipping away at the sight of the happy faces around her. Even Jessica was smiling widely, the stress that lined her beautiful face missing for once, eyes twinkling as though the stars had decided to take up home there. Joy nudged her roughly and her hands flew towards the control panel, chattering away as she worked on the keyboard.

 

“We received it from Lagoon not too long ago and let me tell you, Irene is a freaking genius, she managed to send us a huge video file consisting of personal videos to each of us-”

 

That was all Wendy heard.

 

And then it was all Wendy saw.

 

Irene’s face came on screen, tired, haggard, pale but still so beautiful, like a painting coming to life.

 

(Just the sight of her gave Wendy tunnel vision.)

 

She was barely listening to Joy’s rambles or the fact that her crew had decided that it was now a good time to leave since their captain was crying silently at the sight of her girlfriend.

 

She heard nothing, saw nothing but Irene, brown eyes littered the galaxies Wendy chased.

 

And then Irene started speaking.

 

It was words of love, of longing, of pain, of sadness.

 

But underneath it all, words of love and support.

 

Words that Wendy never got to hear when she boarded the Red-0801, words trapped behind anger and m