Waiting Shapeless

Prologue

The barge rocked with every successful hit from the enemy ships.

It swayed in its position in space as the relentless barrage hammered it from all sides.

I felt every hit. We all did.

We were the ship, and the ship was us.

We ominously hung from the ceiling from sleek metal poles that protruded from the tops of our bodies. The plasma ceiling above us swirled and glowed a vibrant blue, casting an eerie shimmer across the control room.

The shadows from our hanging bodies seemed to twist and turn with the churning light, but we were motionless.

I would have looked around me, taking in the ambiance of the large command room as it rocked to and fro with the external explosions. But there was no need.

I could feel the positions of all my following commanders as they anxiously configured insignificant data; from shield supports, eternal communications, and diminishing hull resistance. They did this all through software interaction with the ship, so although they were bustling, nothing moved on the silent deck.

But their efforts were pointless now. We were going to die.

But I let them continue their frantic toil. These were the last few moments of their lives. What else were they going to do?

I suppose that the scene was oddly tranquil for such dire circumstances. There was no alarm that blared into our ears, nor flashing lights to blind our eyes. Those types of things were unnecessary of course. We could all feel the ship as it was ripped apart. The pain was shared, as if it was us being mercilessly shredded by the pounding artillery.

An organic species would most definitely feel panic, probably fear, maybe dread, and paralyzing hopelessness in a situation like this.

We did not.

We are Circuits. The heavenly Motherboard from which we all originated did not curse our species with such debilitating emotions.

A message from my communications commander cycled through our software.

Admiral. It said. Our external lines have been destroyed. Should I transfer power to open another emergency line of communication?

There was no word spoken. All the data of the message simply flowed up from the sending Circuit, cycled through the blue plasma lifeline above, then down through the poles to each of the hanging Circuits.

I did not send my reply immediately.

None of our other emergency messages have been received, Admiral. Continued the commander. All remain unopened.

I didn't have to process this data. No one was coming to save us.

Close all communication lines, revert all power to hull dexterity. I replied.

The robotic Circuit buzzed in compliance.

Barge X000110 has lost all power. Came the call of one of the other Circuits in the room, it's message once again flowing down from the ceiling.

X000110 was the only other barge of my once large armada still standing. Now it was lost. Whatever was picking us off had now destroyed all of the fleet, save for this ship.

And what was the enemy? Who were our relentless attackers?

Not one of us knew. All scans resulted in scrambled data.

Whatever is was out there, it wanted us dead.

Suddenly a substantial chunk of the stern hull was obliterated in a deafening roar. The ship squealed as the support beams and armor siding slowly ripped off unevenly, like a limb being torn incrementally from a body.