The Colonel’s voice crackled over the intercom, “People, check and cross-check.”

We looked at one another, a look of befuddled acquiescence on our faces, a look familiar to any civilians such as ourselves so fortunate as to work with the military.

His throat clearing echoed over the com, “Duty, then, is the sublimest word in the English language. You should do your duty in all…” He stopped. The station went silent, well, as silent as that many tons of floating metal and machines ever is.

It’s not that we wanted to hear how yet another of his speeches ended. We’d heard enough all through training. Frankly, this sounded kind of familiar. But we wanted to know why he stopped.

Instead of knowing, we floated, like the station in which our fragile lives were cradled, halfway between the known and the expanse of possibility. The gravity of curiosity drew our eyes to the speakers set in the ceiling, foolish as it was to look for sound. But we had to look for something.

Something had to be out there.