Red and Black.

There used to be others, I heard. Lights we can't imagine because we've never seen any other than Red and Black. Red like the vastness of the sky above, Black like the roiling waves we ride. Red like the lightnings that power our vessel, Black like my drowned love's eyes.

The Cap shrieked her mourning call, the one we'd all been waiting for and dreading. Her long howl was our final warning, low electric current turning into no electric current, low hope to none. The Ruxandra flickered, her bright red lights dimming to crimson before brightening up again for one final time. Then, she went black. Whatever was left of her spark was gathered to the emergency pack at the back, the engine rumbling an emptier tune than before, trundling out in coughs and gasps.

"Alive! Sail up!" the Cap cried. She had her lens aimed at the horizon, a line of energy so dense it was death to the eyes. That was the trade all Captains made; see the horizon, see nothing else. I was there for everything else.