30

The ship slept, as it had slept for the last five hundred watches.

Immersed in the silence and twilight of the on-duty lighting, it looked more like a dead crypt of the ancient gods than a living and active artifact of an engineering genius.

For the first time mankind took a step beyond its own world, it was to be a triumph, a heroic saga, about which legends will be composed among posterity. But in reality, the feat turned into a routine. This routine consisted of a painful succession of minutes, shifts, turns, years, monotonous and seemingly meaningless.

And now, when Captain Shimizu left his post, finally bowing ceremoniously to his replacement, he was gnawed by a feeling of some kind of lost incompleteness. As if he, Captain Shimizu, had to do something, accomplish something, perform something. Not in this, so in the last watch. But he didn't. And this bothered him much more than the dead silence of the service corridors of the command sector.

What could he, a mattaku, do? Why com
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