The Last Loop
“By his life of service, and by his death of sacrifice, he lights our path.”
The shrill beep of the alarm clock jarred Captain Victor Saxon awake. He fumbled to silence it, squinting against the dim overhead light. Another day aboard the starship Aurora.
Saxon dragged himself out of the rumpled sheets. The hole in his sock heel gaped as he pulled it on. He’d have to patch that later.
After a sonic shower, Saxon straightened his uniform and considered his reflection. Had those lines lining his eyes always been so deep? He ran a hand through his graying hair with a sigh then headed for the mess hall.
The ship hummed around him with systems operating at peak efficiency. Saxon nodded at passing crew members, taking pride in his ship and crew. Young, but competent.
As he entered the mess, Rover bounded over, tail wagging eagerly.
“Who’s a good boy?” Saxon cooed as he scratched the golden lab behind his ears. He replicated a coffee and sank onto the bench beside Rover. The dog rested his head in Saxon’s lap, his warm brown eyes pleading.
“Oh…I suppose…Don’t tell Nora,” Saxon replicated a handful of dog treats. “Just a few. We have to do something about that pudge, y’know.”
Rover yipped and balanced a treat on his nose, waiting for Saxon’s signal. At the snap of Saxon’s fingers, Rover flipped the treat into the air and caught it in his mouth. The simple trick never failed to make Saxon — or any other crew member — laugh.
After several more rounds, Saxon gave Rover an affectionate pat and headed up to the bridge. He stepped onto the command deck, comforted by the familiar beeps and hums.
The com chirped and Commander Kovacs’s crisp voice came through: “Captain, we’ve arrived at survey planet Beta-Alpha 9 as scheduled. Beginning preliminary scans now.”
“Acknowledged. I’m on my way.”
Saxon made his way to the bridge, eager to oversee this final survey mission. As he stepped onto the command deck, the familiar beeps and hums of the ship’s systems welcomed him.
“Morning, sir,” Commander Nora Kovacs smiled from the science station, her capable hands dancing across the panel as she and an ensign worked.
“Parker, report,” Saxon said, turning and walking down to the ops station where the young ensign was stationed. Saxon noticed Parker’s mismatched socks peeking out beneath the console as he shuffled his feet.
Saxon decided against mentioning it now. Despite gentle reminders about proper protocols, Parker often overlooked small uniform details in his haste to arrive on time. But Saxon understood Parker needed patient guidance to break old habits. A good mentor knew kind firmness worked better than harsh reprimand. Parker would learn in time, just as Saxon had under patient officers long ago.
For now, Saxon focused his praise on Parker’s devotion to duty rather than the errors borne of enthusiasm.
“Data coming in clear, sir,” Parker reported, eyes fixed on his panel.
“Good. Let’s begin detailed scans,” Saxon ordered.
Parker’s fingers flew as he analyzed data and calibrated sensors. Saxon watched patiently, allowing the young officer to demonstrate his expertise. After a few moments, Parker looked up.
“Strange readings here, sir. I’m detecting a gravitational anomaly off the starboard side, but scopes are inconclusive.”
Kovacs double-checked from her station. “It appears to be a small micro-singularity, captain. No immediate threat.”
Saxon nodded, intrigued but not alarmed. Kovacs’s reputation for unparalleled sensor analysis was well earned. “Let’s take a closer look once we complete the survey mission.”
“Sir, the micro-singularity is putting out unusually high amounts of baryonic particles,” Parker added. “I recommend moving to the lee side of Beta-Alpha—the particles won’t interfere with our sensors.”
Saxon nodded. “Good thinking, Ensign. Helm, bring us about.”
Just then proximity alarms blared. Saxon bolted upright in his chair. “Report!”
Kovacs stared at her readings, alarmed. “Massive energy spike! It’s a cloaked Paldorian battle cruiser off our port bow. They’re arming weapons!”
Saxon cursed. “When the hell did Paldorians get cloaks?” Then shouted, “Red alert! Shields up, battle stations!”
Without warning, the enemy ship fired, rocking the Aurora. Saxon gripped his chair, knuckles white. “Return fire!”
Their shields absorbed the second barrage, but Saxon knew their smaller science vessel was outgunned. As expected, the third blast ruptured their shields. Klaxons wailed around him with damage reports coming from all over the ship.
“Direct hit to engineering!” Parker shouted over the din. “The core’s breached!”
Saxon swore under his breath; that was a mortal blow. He watched helplessly as the telltale glow of the destabilizing warp core began seeping onto the bridge.
Parker shouted, “Sir! The enemy’s cloak is reacting to the baryon — ”
Suddenly, a strange energy discharge erupted from one of the damaged consoles, rippling outwards and focused on Saxon. He seized up as the wave passed through him, overwhelmed by an otherworldly sensation.
Before he could recover, an explosion ripped through the bridge. Saxon gagged against the acrid stench of burnt flesh as flames licked his boots, his crew succumbing around him. He thought he heard Kovacs scream, but the roar of the fire drowned everything else.
Saxon spotted Parker’s hand protruding from beneath the melted remains of the ops console.
Why him? He was barely old enough to grow a proper beard.
Rover’s distant anguished barks echoed through the ravaged ship.
Saxon rushed toward the sound, but his path was blocked by falling debris. More explosions grew nearer, white-hot shrapnel ripping toward him.
Then his vision went black and there was only silence.
The shrill beep of the alarm clock jarred Saxon awake. He fumbled to silence it, squinting against the dim overhead light. Another day aboard the starship Aurora.
After a sonic shower, Saxon dressed and considered his reflection. The eyes staring back at him looked…wearier than they should. Were those lines bracketing his mouth always so deep?
Saxon pulled on his uniform, pausing at the frayed hole in his sock. For a moment he had the strangest feeling that this had all happened before.
Déjà vu, old man. Déjà vu.
With a weary sigh, he turned away and headed for the bridge, trying to shake off his uneasiness.
Weird is part of the job, remembering the words of a seasoned captain he once served under. Strange phenomena were expected out in the depths of space. Saxon straightened his uniform and strode onto the bridge, determined not to let his unease show.
“Morning, sir. Good timing: we just arrived at Beta-Alpha 9,” Kovacs greeted him with a smile. Saxon nodded. Looking down he noticed Parker fidgeting with his mismatched socks but sat up straight when the Captain approached.
“Ah…scanning the planet now, sir,” Parker announced, but glanced up. “Captain? Is everything alright?”
“Anomaly off the port bow!” Saxon shouted abruptly, lunging to his chair. “Raise shields!”
Startled, Kovacs stared at him in confusion. “Sir, sensors aren’t showing any — “
The proximity alarm cut her off, announcing the appearance of an enemy ship.
“Arm weapons and standby.”
He watched the same scene unfold, bracing for the bombardment. But this time, Aurora was ready, shields raised and phasers armed. They took the first hit without damage. Saxon barked at his tactical officer to return fire.
“Sir, we’re just a science vessel,” Kovacs protested. “We should practice the better part of valor and get out of here!”
“We can’t retreat.” Saxon set his jaw. “Fire! Full spread!”
The Aurora’s phasers grazed the Paldorian’s hull. Their answering barrage rocked the ship but the shields held. Saxon allowed himself a flicker of pride.
The battle raged as both ships traded blows. Suddenly the deck pitched violently beneath them. “Direct hit to engineering!” Parker yelled. “The core — “
“Override the safeties and eject it!” Saxon shouted.
Parker’s fingers flew across the controls. After an agonizing moment, the destabilizing core jettisoned away from the ship before it could erupt. Aurora was crippled but intact.
Saxon stared at the brutish Paldorian ship looming off their bow, ribs heaving.
Alive, for now.
As if reading his thoughts, the enemy ship suddenly launched a barrage of torpedoes directly at the Aurora’s bridge. Saxon watched helplessly as the projectiles closed in. “Brace for impact!” he shouted, knowing it was futile.
The torpedoes struck in rapid succession, rupturing the viewscreen and blasting the bridge apart in a maelstrom of fire and shrapnel. Saxon was slammed back against his chair from the concussive force. Around him, his crew perished instantly.
As his consciousness slipped away, Saxon heard nothing but silence. The tattered remains of the Aurora drifted aimlessly through space.
Once again, despite his efforts, his ship and crew were destroyed.
The shrill alarm jarred Saxon awake. The persistent feeling of déjà vu gripped him even tighter now. What was happening?
There must be an answer. Saxon’s mind raced as he dressed. If he could identify some clue, some common thread tying these seeming “repeats” together, perhaps he could break the cycle — if there was one.
Saxon dashed to the bridge, uniform jacket unbuttoned, hair still mussed from bed. “Evacuate the ship!” he barked. “Escape pods, now!”
His bridge crew froze, stunned by the sudden order. “Sir?” Kovacs asked uncertainly. “What’s going on?”
“No time to explain—just trust me. Go!” Saxon shoved Parker toward the escape pod bay as the proximity alarm began to wail.
The stunned crew scrambled to comply as proximity alarms blared. Saxon rushed to help usher them into the pods, scooping up Rover and jumping into the last empty one.
“Full speed away from the ship!” As the doors sealed, he issued a general order: “Set a course for the Mandela Nebula and prepare to rendezvous at coordinates 479 mark 8 once clear of the enemy attack!”
The pods launched into space as the Aurora disappeared behind them.
Suddenly, laser fire streaked past, homing in on the vulnerable pods. Explosions bloomed around them as the enemy picked off each pod one by one like fish in a barrel.
Saxon gripped Rover tight as their pod shuttered from the shockwaves. Debris pelted the small window as destroyed pods and lifeless bodies tumbled past. Saxon bowed his head in despair, having failed once more to save them.
In a burst of fire and metal, Saxon’s world went dark.
The alarm jarred Saxon awake once more. He dressed with a quiet stoicism like a man heading to the gallows.
After countless loops watching his crew die in dozens of ways, Saxon felt drained and disheartened. He had tried everything to save them: evacuating early, retreating, and even attempting to negotiate with the Paldorians to prevent the battle all together.
But each loop ended in tragedy. He saw Kovacs burned alive on the bridge, Parker spacing as a hull breach blew him into the vacuum. He had even watched helplessly as Rover floated lifelessly past his pod window.
But, in this loop, when his eyes fell on the frayed hole in his sock a memory shocked him like an electric current: Parker and his mismatched socks.
Saxon saw it as youthful carelessness, but now the memory took on new meaning.
It reminded Saxon of Parker’s brilliance, hiding behind his eccentricities. The young officer’s mind made connections others missed. His ideas were unconstrained by rigid thinking—part of the reason Saxon requested him for this commission in the first place.
Saxon had been trying to solve this puzzle alone when the answer lay with his crew all along. Like any good starship captain, he needed the diverse skills and perspectives of his skilled crew.
Parker’s creativity balanced Kovacs’s analytical mind. Together they could brainstorm ideas Saxon would never conceive of.
For too long he had shouldered this burden alone, watching his crew die loop after loop. No more. He needed their help to uncover the clues he lacked.
Filled with renewed hope, Saxon called Parker and Kovacs to meet him in his ready room.
In the ready room, Kovacs and Parker listened intently, furrowing their brows as Saxon paced, recounting the recurring loops only he retained.
“The logical conclusion is a localized temporal anomaly surrounding the ship,” Kovacs said. “But what caused it?”
Saxon paused in his pacing. “And…why is it only me?”
Parker pulled out a tricorder and scanned Saxon, detecting high chroniton saturation. “Well, these readings show you were exposed to strong temporal radiation, sir. That would make sense.”
Saxon nodded. “There was an energy discharge on the bridge which hit me just before the explosion in the first loop.”
Kovacs looked at Parker’s readings. “How many loops do you suppose you’ve gone through, Captain?”
“Dozens. I’m not sure. I tried every solution I could think of. They didn’t train us for this at the Academy.”
Parker’s eyes lit up. “That discharge was likely caused by the Paldorian’s cloaking technology interacting with baryonic particles from the nearby singularity.”
He explained that if the Paldorians used chroniton-based cloaking technology, it could react violently with the singularity’s particle emissions. This would explain the radiation exposure and time loop localized around Saxon by the energy surge.
“If you’re right, perhaps a tachyon burst may disrupt their temporal field,” Kovacs said.
Parker leaned forward, eyes bright with an idea. “Exactly! I recall a similar situation with the USS Reliant in my temporal mechanics course at the Academy.”
He quickly outlined the details: “The Reliant was mapping the Malon Expanse when they became trapped in a repeating 20-minute temporal loop.
“At first, they didn’t realize it was happening. But after dozens of repetitions, the patterns became clear — the ship’s systems would reset, and any damage would disappear.”
Parker continued animatedly, “Finally their engineer detected rising chroniton levels each loop. They realized they were stuck inside a temporal distortion field.
“The source was a micro-singularity with an intense gravitational field. It was interacting with high neutrino emissions in the Expanse.”
Parker concluded, “By generating a focused tachyon pulse from their deflector array, the Reliant disrupted the chroniton flux and escaped the anomaly!”
He sat back with a smile. “If we can reproduce that tachyon pulse tuned to the right frequency, we—and you, sir—might be able to break free of this loop too.”
Saxon nodded, impressed by the young officer’s grasp of temporal mechanics.
“There’s a big ‘if’ though,” Kovacs said. “The Reliant was dealing with neutrino emissions as the catalyst. The singularity emits baryonic particles. The effects may not be analogous. The baryons could interact completely differently with the gravitational flux. We’d need more data to determine if a tachyon pulse would work the same way here.”
She turned to Saxon. “When the Paldorians decloak, we should run a full spectral analysis of their cloak and the surrounding spacetime. Those scans should tell us if we can calibrate a tachyon burst to disrupt their temporal field, like the Reliant did,” Parker concluded.
Saxon considered the officers’ points. “Agreed. Let’s gather all the data we can when they appear. That’s our only hope of determining if we can adapt the Reliant’s solution to our situation.”
Kovacs added the Paldorians may have developed chroniton weapons too. “Either way, thorough scans when they decloak will confirm either theory.”
Kovacs proposed modulating shield frequencies to diffuse the chroniton particles and calibrating the deflector array to match the emission spectrum could amplify the tachyon burst.
Saxon considered their proposals. “Unfortunately, we’re running out of time…in more ways than one. We’ll have to test your theories in battle.”
On the bridge, Kovacs and Parker readied a full detailed scan the Paldorian ship on decloak. If their hypothesis was correct, they may just unravel this knot of temporal anomalies and radiation.
As the Paldorian ship decloaked, Kovacs rapidly scanned its emissions.
“Detecting high levels of chroniton particles!” she reported. “Confirmed! They’re generating a temporal field reacting with the baryonic particles from the micro-singularity. It’s running on a modulation of 1.47!”
Saxon turned to her. “Can we rupture their field with a tachyon burst?”
“I’ll try, sir!” Kovacs reconfigured the deflector array to emit tachyons.
But before she could initiate the burst, the Paldorians opened fire. Their advanced weapons sliced through the Aurora’s shields. Explosions burst across the hull as the ship came apart.
Kovacs had to reroute power to the deflector array. But the Paldorians’ next salvo targeted the bridge. The deck plating ruptured under Saxon’s feet, spilling crewmates into chaos.
“Return fire!” Saxon yelled over the din. The Aurora’s phasers lashed out but dissipated across the Paldorian’s shields.
Kovacs frantically tried to initiate the tachyon pulse as the Paldorians pressed their assault. “Almost there…” she gritted her teeth, diverting even more power.
“Take it from life support if you have to, Commander! Just get me that burst!” shouted Saxon.
A direct hit to the bridge and Kovacs’s console erupted in a plume of fire and shrapnel. Kovacs vanished in the maelstrom; her scream barely audible.
“Nora!” Saxon shouted. But there was no time to mourn. “Parker, take over the tachyon burst!”
The young officer leapt to comply as destruction mounted around them. But it was too late — the next Paldorian volley took out the main deflector array and blew it to atoms.
Saxon watched helplessly as his crew perished under the relentless bombardment. Finally, the bridge exploded in a white-hot fireball, engulfing him.
As the flames seared his flesh, a sense of peace flowed through Saxon. At last, he knew what must be done to win.
Saxon embraced the flames, ready to awaken again; this time with renewed understanding of how to turn the tide.
The inferno consumed Saxon’s body, but his mind was alive with hope.
Once more, more times than Saxon could count, the shrill alarm jarred Saxon awake.
As he pulled on his uniform yet again, the frayed hole in his sock sparked an ember of defiance.
He knew what needed to be done; however, there was still one big problem to solve.
Unlike the Reliant, even if the Aurora could break free from the temporal distortion, they would still face the relentless Paldorian vessel determined to destroy them. Releasing tachyons may disrupt the anomaly but wouldn’t stop the attack.
However, there was a way to save them, and it was a solution that froze Saxon’s blood.
My first duty is to my ship.
With that, he could feel a renewed sense of purpose coursing through him. This would be the final loop — for better or worse.
He only had a few things to do first…
At breakfast, Saxon took time to savor his coffee, the warmth seeping into his hands. He scratched Rover lovingly behind the ears and gave the loving dog extra treats.
“You’re a good boy. Very loyal… Thank you, buddy, for always being there for me.”
On the bridge, Saxon regarded the faces of his young crew — hopeful, trusting, oblivious to their shared fate. He straightened his uniform and squared his shoulders.
As he passed the ops station, Saxon paused to affectionately ruffle Ensign Parker’s hair. “Cute socks, Parker,” he said with a wistful smile. “Starting a trend?”
Parker flushed, glancing down at his mismatched socks. “Yes, sir — I mean, no, sir. Sorry, sir. I’ll go change them now, sir.”
Saxon squeezed the young officer’s shoulder, “Don’t worry about it.” He continued to the captain’s chair and ran his fingers along the worn leather arms one last time.
Right on schedule, the proximity alarms blared. Saxon closed his eyes, picturing the enemy ship suddenly appearing off their port bow. He had to time this perfectly. “Red Alert! All hands abandon ship!”
“S-sir!” Kovacs cried. “Our scans — ”
“I need you to trust me—now more than ever. Head for the escape pods.”
Kovacs blinked in confusion. “But sir — “
“We’re about to be attacked by the Paldorians. You’ll all be safest in the pods.”
His crew hesitated, exchanging uneasy glances. Saxon hated deceiving them, but he knew escape was their only hope.
“That’s an order,” Saxon commanded, his tone brooking no dissent. The crew complied, rushing toward the escape bay. Saxon followed behind, pulse hammering.
The ship shuddered under the first barrage as the crew scrambled into the pods. Saxon urged them faster, scooping up Rover and handing him to Kovacs.
Just before sealing Kovacs’s pod, Saxon pressed a small, flat package into her hand. “The crew is yours now. Keep them safe.”
Kovacs’s eyes widened in shock, but Saxon had already sealed the pod door. Through the small window, he saw realization dawning on her face.
Alarms blared around Saxon as he took the helm alone. He quickly scanned the sensors — all escape pods had successfully launched. His crew was away.
Saxon allowed himself a moment to close his eyes and take a deep breath. This was it. After countless failed attempts, this would be the last loop — success or oblivion.
He opened his eyes. “Computer, initialize a controlled tachyon burst from the main deflector with a chroniton modulation of 1.47 on my mark. And divert all available power, including life support, to the deflector.”
The computer acknowledged the orders. Saxon then took manual control of the helm. He aligned the crippled Aurora on a direct collision course with the looming Paldorian vessel.
“Initiate tachyon burst…now!”
The Aurora’s deflector began emitting an escalating high-pitched whine as it built up tachyons. Saxon’s teeth vibrated from the intensity. A brilliant burst of blazing white energy erupted, engulfing the ship.
Saxon shielded his eyes as tachyon waves buffeted the vessel. He gripped the helm tight as the deck shuddered beneath him. He became lightheaded and grabbed the console to steady himself as the bridge swam around him.
His heart pounded as he fought to remain conscious against the disorienting temporal effects. He had to hold on just a little longer.
As his vision blurred, Saxon imagined the tachyons dissipated from his body and the surrounding space.
The ship shuddered under another barrage from the Paldorians. Saxon watched the enemy ship loom into view on the main screen, its menacing shape growing ever larger like a lion closing in for the kill.
His hands gripped the helm controls, ready to plunge them both into oblivion.
In a flash, he was transported back to when he first took command of the Aurora. He remembered the swell of pride as he stepped onto the gleaming bridge for the first time and ran his fingers along the smooth leather chair.
And Rover…dear, sweet lovable Rover who always sensed when Saxon was having a bad day and would lay his fuzzy head tenderly on his lap. He imagined Rover waiting endlessly for his master to return, not understanding why he had abandoned him.
Saxon’s eyes misted over. Was this truly the only way?
The enemy ship fired again, explosions rocking the Aurora. Saxon was thrown to the floor. Sparks rained down around him as he pulled himself up. On the screen, his blood froze as he watched the Paldorian ship slowly turn toward the fleeing escape pods. They detected the fleeing crew.
No — no other way. This was the sacrifice required to save them. He had seen too many horrors and lost too many souls. Never again.
“Stay away from them!” he screamed at the viewscreen.
Resolved, he gave his last command: “Computer, ramming speed!” The engines screamed in protest, but the Aurora surged forward.
Closing his eyes, he whispered “Forgive me, my friends,” as the Aurora rocketed towards its final collision.
The blinding explosion lit up the darkness for a brief, brilliant moment as the two ships joined in oblivion. Then only drifting debris and silence remained.
Saxon’s sacrifice was complete.
His crew was safe at last.
Kovacs jolted awake inside the shaking escape pod. Rover was curled against her chest, still whimpering. She peered ahead out the tiny window. Around her, the other pods were intact. Aurora and the enemy ship’s smoking ruins receding behind them.
They’d made it. Somehow, the captain had saved them. How did he know?
Dispatched after Aurora’s distress signal, the USS Endurance picked up the escape pods hours later. There, on the Endurance’s larger observation deck, the surviving crew clung together, weeping both relief and grief. Rover paced across the unfamiliar deck, occasionally sniffing crew members in search of his absent master. Kovacs blinked back tears, knowing Saxon would want them to stay strong.
Just before Saxon’s funeral the next day, Kovacs approached the young bridge officer the Captain thought so highly of.
“Ensign Parker, may I have a word?”
Parker stood at attention. Kovacs held out a small black box and opened it to reveal a single gleaming pip inside. “It seems one of Captain Saxon’s last official acts was to promote you to full Lieutenant.” She extended out a hand. “Congratulations…Lieutenant.”
She picked up the pip and secured it to Parker’s collar.
She looked up at him with a bittersweet smile. “Funny thing is…it came with a condition.”
Parker frowned. “Sir?”
Kovacs handed Parker the box Saxon gave her in the pod. Nestled inside was a set of finely knitted matching socks.
Parker chuckled through tears.
“Thank you, Commander,” Parker laughed and straightened with a new maturity. “I’ll do my best to make Captain Saxon proud.”
Kovacs squeezed his shoulder warmly. “Apparently…you already have.”
At a solemn memorial service aboard the Endurance, the banner of Saxon’s home world of Valor III draped over an empty casket. Kovacs stood silently for a moment, clutching a white lily in her hands. She stepped forward and recounted Saxon’s unwavering dedication and bravery:
“We are gathered here today to honor the life and sacrifice of Captain Victor Jameson Saxon. As a captain sworn to duty, he exemplified the virtues of courage, compassion, and selflessness.
“Saxon’s unwavering commitment to duty reminds us that principles matter most when circumstances are dire. Though darkness was closing in, he shone as a beacon of hope, upholding his principles to the very end. His sacrifice was not in vain but in service to the higher ideals that defined his life.
“Captain Saxon showed us the true meaning of unwavering sacrifice. By his life of service, and by his death of sacrifice, he lights our path. We will now walk that path with heads held high, with hearts filled with hope, and carry forth the eternal light of duty that Saxon ignited within each of us.”
She stepped back. Around her, heads bowed in a moment of silence for the gallant captain.
In the corner, Rover lay with his head on his paws. The dog’s eyes were filled with grief as if sensing his master was not returning.
Kovacs knelt and cradled Rover’s head in her hands, both united in their shared loss. He would never know why his master left him; he could only feel the ache of his absence.
She gazed into Rover’s eyes and saw her sadness reflected. “Let’s go home, boy.” Rover nuzzled her hand, comforting and being comforted.
Together, they would walk the path of duty Saxon had sacrificed so much to light.
