That mouth which would have swallowed us, we will cause to gape and turn about. What’s larger than Leviathan? Eternity! The void! The dark abyss! The stuff between the stars! That is the mouth I use. My engine will open a seam in space and drop Leviathan in.”
And in that instant, our captain played some keys of the main computer console and the engines of our rocket throbbed to hysteria.
“Leviathan,” cried the captain, “meet Leviathan! Destruction, meet destruction! Comet, see thy mirror image! Annihilation, know annihilation!”
The entire universe around us shook. I heard Quell’s voice as it faded among the stars.
“Oh, Ishmael.”
“Quell!”
The captain’s voice was loud in that last great sound, and in that final moment he shouted, “What? My ship gone, too? Its flesh ripped free? Its bones strewn forth? Am I blind once more? Then blind, I seize on thee! Dead, I grapple with thee. Where is thy heart? Oh there, now there—I’ll stifle it. Oh damned and dread Leviathan, it comes to this!”
There was a final explosion—a great outpouring of shrapneled ship, lost humans, and wild beams. And I, thrown upward, floated in my life-suit above the wreckage, surrounded by mirages, dreams, motes, shadows, stars.
Gone, yes, all gone, I thought. Down the long black mineshaft of the universe, its bridal veil trailing despairs and woes, celebrating itself, a mindless mystery forever in motion, but…wait…now truly gone?
Gone all the ships, men, large, small, sane or mad, the captain with them, madness maddened. Did he open wide the seam, that strange vast hole in eternity he spoke of, and drop Leviathan in? And are they lost forever? Or will, I wonder, Leviathan return? Will he return in thirty years and bring with him all those who would have killed him?
Long years from now, will the monster and my mates slide down the length of the abyss, return as one at last…the hunter and the hunted, the feared and the fearer, the madness and the vaulting dream of madness, together fused forever through centuries yet unborn?
Will it all be here, will it all pass by when Earth is old and looks up to behold Leviathan, our ships, our crew, our captain—an endless cortege to the specter ghost?
A dark shape floated nearby, turning slowly. I recognized it as Quell’s funeral suit.
“Quell!”
I reached out and seized the suit, and turning it, found it empty. I spoke to empty space. “No, just the chaff, the husk. My good friend gone. Oh, Quell.”
I embraced the empty suit and the lost funeral music of Quell’s ancestors sounded once again in my ears.
Alone, I floated with the memory of good Quell, who had gone to be with comets and their gods. I drifted so, aimlessly, holding on to the suit, a strange life-raft, knowing the air in my life-suit would soon be gone. How long? I wondered. A day, maybe two…until…?
Above, I see a light, and hear a voice through static.
“Starship Rachel, this is starship Rachel…”
A ship, passing, investigating the wreckage, comes to pick me up at last. The Rachel, who, in her long search for her missing children finds but another orphan. I let the coffin go. I let the memory of Quell go to his light-year burial ground.
The drama’s done. Only one remains. I, Ishmael, alone, am here to tell you this.
“Starship Rachel standing by. We see you. Come aboard. Come aboard.”
The end
