01 logo

Revisions

Back to Earth

By Scott RuhmannPublished 2 years ago 20 min read
Like
Revisions
Photo by David Becker on Unsplash

NOBODY CAN HEAR A SCREAM IN THE VACUUM OF SPACE, OR SO THEY SAY.

Azare slid his fingers along the digitally etched words. Still warm.

He followed the light pouring into the craft through the severed hull and stepped back out onto the exterior platform. The scenic air was clean, but the unnatural stillness overcame the refreshment. He eased his way down to the ground. So, this is Earth. Why did the craft come here? The mysteries of the fallen craft intrigued him, but there was a more pressing matter.

Across the valley meadow, the cone-shaped mountain trembled. Charcoal smoke had begun to stream upward from new openings. Azare felt the tremors building. He focused on the small green box in his left hand and touched the switch gently with his thumb to avoid setting off the explosion prematurely.

Minutes.

He turned back to face the craft. Though the sun struck it at such an angle that it should’ve blinded him, there was no reflection at all. As he surveyed the craft from outside, he noticed something he hadn’t seen before. A hatch was cracked open, hanging on by one hinge, below the cockpit.

There was a chance he couldn’t divert the volcanic eruption. He’d explored the entire ship, except for the cargo bay– which was probably collapsed– and the crawlspace beneath the cockpit. Access to both from within the ship was impossible. The doors had been damaged in the crash and wouldn’t budge. He raced to the hatch, ducking under the deformed belly of the craft.

At first, he couldn’t pry the door beyond a few inches. Then, he spotted a piece of pipe protruding from the thick, tall grass not far away. Within seconds, he was straining to leverage the door open. A loud metallic crack echoed off the nearby cliffs as he fell backward and tried to escape the hatch door falling above him. He cried out in agony as it landed on his left arm just above the elbow.

Breathing heavily through the pain, he shoved the metal square aside, scrambled to his feet, and examined his arm. Nothing serious. No time for that now.

The earth rumbled, sending a shockwave through his body. He didn’t even glance at the volcano, but the thick smoke was beginning to darken the sky noticeably. He grabbed the frame where the door had fallen, at about chest level, with his right hand.

“Grrrraaaahhh!” He pulled himself into the newly opened section of the craft by swinging one leg onto the slanted floor. Gravity was against him. The floor sloped downward toward the opening. He gripped some hard tubing running along the interior wall that seemed stable and shimmied his way across the small space.

Shards of light pierced down into the dim area through the grates above. Half the top of the craft was ripped off. As he put his hand against the wall to brace himself, he felt letters. He squinted to read it. Etched in the same lettering as the message in the hallway by the cargo bay was another message.

He read it aloud in low, raspy voice. “Don’t believe them. Breathe in the water there.”

As soon as he made out the words, a sudden jolt sent him sliding across the floor. He processed the events in reverse order. First, he noticed that the slant had reversed, causing him to slide into the wall opposite the entrance. Second, he realized that the shift had caused the entrance to collapse, trapping him inside. And third, he understood what had caused the shift. The ground was quaking. Objects in the cockpit above were becoming dislodged, clinking and crashing above him like hailstones on a tin roof. Now!

He searched himself, desperately trying to locate the detonator. But it wasn’t on him. The door. It’d fallen on his left arm, and the detonator was in his left hand. In his rush to get into the craft, he didn’t retrieve the detonator.

Columns of smoke mushroomed outward, cutting off the intermittent traces of light inside the craft. It might already be too late.

His only hope was to somehow escape the craft before the molten rocks rained down on it. The craft would be lost, but at least he’d already explored most of it. He scrambled along the walls, feeling for anything he could use to get out. His knees touched something sticky. Fuel? Maybe coolant?

At first, he didn’t think much of it, but it became deeper and thicker. Soon, he couldn’t feel the floor. He trudged through it, using his left arm like an oar to propel him forward, still feeling the wall with his right hand. Pain seized his chest, shooting from his injured arm as he pushed through the thick liquid. But he quickly forgot about it when he experienced the strangest sensation. He straightened out his legs beneath him and couldn’t feel the floor. By this point, it was almost pitch black. There’s no way I have room to stand up in here.

Then, he realized he was sinking. He’d lost the wall. He was suspended in the gooey substance and couldn’t tread it like water. He couldn’t feel anything solid anywhere or see anything anymore. He fought and struggled, kicking and flailing, but to no avail. The craft shook tremendously as he heard a deafening boom. He felt the craft begin to lift and turn over. Small rocks pelted the hull on one side. A few larger ones began to rain down. Those were the last sounds he heard before his head went under.

* * *

Am I dead?

A sliver of light appeared as Azare slowly opened one eye. As the blurry scene around him sharpened, he rose from the cold metal floor. He faced a large swivel chair, bolted down at the bottom. As he stood, he peered over it at the familiar cockpit. The craft. He’d chased the rogue vessel across three systems and inspected its wreckage thoroughly on Earth, so he knew it well.

Beyond the controls, through the windshield, was the infinite blackness of space, sprinkled with specks of glowing light. The control panel was lit up, but the ship was silent and still. He stepped to the left and nearly fell. His legs were weak. He took another step, moving from the solid floor to the rectangular strip of metal grating. Below was the crawlspace, revealed only in strips of light where grates permitted light from the cockpit. It’s freezing.

Some of the scene was new. Back on earth, he’d stood in the same spot and stared upward at the sunlight. Now, the ceiling was perfectly intact. Gentle lights were built in seamlessly to the metal ceiling and walls.

The air didn’t smell like the recycled oxygen of a ship in space. He inhaled deeply. The valley… Earth.

He wasn’t sure what to do next. He wasn’t even sure if anything was real.

“Hello,” he managed to say before going into a coughing fit. His throat was too dry to say anymore. The galley. I need to find some water.

He looked toward the back of the cockpit and spotted the hatch. His legs were stronger now, as if the blood had returned from sleeping appendages. The wheel turned easily, but the hatch didn’t budge. He noticed a bar connecting the hatch to the wall. After fumbling around with it, he discovered that it pulled back out of a depression in the door to unlock it. He swung the hatch open and stepped into a short hallway, then through another lockable hatch and into a rotunda with three openings leading to other parts of the ship.

Middle. With the hatch ajar, he spotted the corner of a white table and the leg of a chair bolted to the ground. It was a simple galley with a small dining table and two chairs, but it had all the essentials. The fridge contained a few bottles of water and some small packages he didn’t care about at the moment. He tore the top off of a bottle and took in a huge gulp of water. Too huge. He doubled over and choked out most of what he’d gulped. After recovering, he sipped more conservatively. The cool water rehydrated his throat.

“Hello,” he said to the empty room. “Much better.”

Might as well try. “HELLOOOO!” he yelled. He instantly regretted that. The echo was offensively loud in the confined space. “Guess it’s just me then.”

He carried the half-empty bottle back to the cockpit and squeezed into the space between the chair and the controls. He plopped down, a bit surprised by the firmness of the cushioned chair.

While he examined the controls, something like a shadow passed across the windshield in his peripheral vision. His heart began to race. He scanned the window, leaning forward. Could it just be my mind playing tricks on me?

But all doubt was removed when it happened again. It was like a light was shining on the ship from behind. There was a small monitor next to the controls showing a view of what he could see out in front of the ship, except it looked down from a different angle. Below the monitor was a series of light gray buttons all in a line. In light text below each one, on the dark panel, were codes for different cameras. He deciphered the obvious ones quickly. FCE was Front. LCE and RCE were Left and Right. Aha! BCE!

He struck the button, hoping it would show the back of the ship.

ERROR.

As soon as he’d processed the word on the screen, he was thrown against the wall by an abrupt jolt of the craft. The white lights dimmed, and the room was lit by flashing lights of assorted colors on multiple panels. His left arm felt as if the hatch had landed on it again. This time, he noticed a deep scratch from something sharp on the wall.

CRASH!

He hadn’t even made it to his feet when the ship jolted again. Obviously, something had struck it. I think we’re still intact.

He scrambled to the chair and felt around quickly for the straps. He slammed a few of the buckles into place and searched for anything to get the engines going. He tapped the IGNITE button, but nothing happened, other than a string of lights coming on above it. A smaller crashing sound preceded a slight bump. Then, an irregular tinkling sound began, as if someone was tapping on the hull with a spoon.

Finally, he located the three engine buttons. He touched them all, and the first two lit up. A low hum started, and he felt the chair begin to vibrate gently. The tinkling sound outside stopped instantly and was followed by what sounded like a rush of air.

Some kind of digital gauge began counting upward quickly. 4… 7… 12… 18. He was caught off guard by the power of the engines as they reached full burn. His head was forced firmly against the headrest, and his body was glued to the chair by the immense force. The gauged settled around 22 as the craft’s speed plateaued.

There appeared to be nothing in the space before him, but he knew from experience that traveling in space can be deceiving, especially at high speeds. Hmm. Proximity scanners. He peeled his body off of the chair and surveyed the panel in front of him. Bingo. A circular screen displayed an active scan for objects along the ship’s current trajectory.

Something felt odd about the ship’s movement. It’s like resistance. Like an atmosphere. But that’s impossible. He dismissed it, although not entirely, attributing it to the novelty of an unfamiliar ship.

For the first time since his journey to earth, he didn’t seem to be in imminent danger. The seat was more comfortable than any pilot chair he’d sat in. It was supportive in just the right places, especially for the massive propulsion of its engines. The ship was quiet, too. The engine hum was gentle and pleasant once the takeoff thrusters shut off.

He felt around under the seat for a release lever and found it. After trying a few different motions, it set the chair free. He tested it out, pushing against the control panel to rotate the chair around in a semi-circle. Just enough resistance to not fly out of it. “Heh,” he chuckled out loud at the thought. He recalled falling out of a co-pilot’s chair when he was training on a new ship ages ago. It was during a 30-degree takeoff in 0.8 G. He bounced across the floor, slamming hard into the hatch. It’s always my left arm, he thought as he recalled the pain. He remembered the flashes of crew members’ faces, unavoidable laughter mixed with mild concern.

The room went dark to him as he closed his eyes, relaxing muscles that’d been tensed for so long they’d grown sore. That lasted about four seconds.

Alarms startled him from his momentary vacation. Proximity?! He checked the scanner first. No. He scanned the displays all around him, trying frantically to find the source of trouble. Above him, a long skinny screen he hadn’t noticed before was lit up with the one message that every pilot fears the most: HULL BREACH!

The messages continued: CARGO BREACH. RCE1 BREACH. HULL BREACH 02179….

He didn’t bother reading the rest of the string of useless numbers. He unbuckled from the seat and leapt to his feet in front of the camera monitor to his right. He began cycling through all the buttons until he passed one showing movement. The cargo bay door was cracked open about a foot. Bright reddish-purple light from the engines shone through the breach. The screen was split into four vantage points. Something moved in the galley, but he couldn’t quite catch it. The same movement occurred in the hallway leading to the cockpit, but again, it was only in his peripheral vision. It was as if shadows were dancing around mockingly, always just evading his focus.

A loud thud against the hatch behind him made him jump. He barely kept his balance. Suddenly, all the alarms fell silent. The ship began to reduce speed, at least, according to the gauges, but it didn’t feel like it was slowing down. Adrenaline surged through his body as he fixed his gaze on the hatch wheel. What could ride on the outside at these speeds? What could even survive out there? And how did it open the door?

The hatch shifted slightly, even though it wasn’t open. Is it… melting?

He was struck by the thought that he had no means of self-defense. He spun around, looking for anything he could use as a weapon. “Nothing!” The monitor had gone blurry, but the square showing the hallway revealed that something was there.

He realized that the door wasn’t melting. Something was happening, but his brain couldn’t even process it. It was like the hatch was moving toward him, immune to the laws of physics. No breaking. No melting. Just drifting into the room.

Once there was a gap of a few inches between the floating hatch and the frame, it became apparent that it wasn’t actually suspended in the air. A faintly detectable, thick liquid was bearing it up like a surfer on a wave. The goo!

The stuff grew as it oozed into the room. A familiar scent interrupted his panic. Smells like the valley.

The goo filled half the cockpit. Azare felt a pressure building in the room, as if the air had nowhere to go as the goo invaded. A sharp pain developed in his ears. Then, he blacked out for a moment.

When he regained consciousness, he was floating against a small access panel on one side of the room. The alarms went wild. He heard cracking, mixed with the bowing of metal all around. He tore the thin screen off the access panel and forced himself through, receiving scratches on every part of his body and tearing his clothes as he squeezed through. The space was tight. On route led to the crawlspace below and the other toward the back of the ship. The alarms became increasingly muffled. To the back! He’d already been trapped in the crawlspace below once, and that was enough.

He shimmied along the tight corridor, shifting all sorts of tubing and wiring harnesses out of the way, moving slowly toward the back of the ship until the space in the wall ended. Through a screen in the interior wall, he could see a small room with two sets of bunk beds. Crew’s quarters. He’d explored the ship thoroughly back on earth, but not from inside the walls. The room didn’t appear to have been invaded by the malicious liquid. Unable to fully bend down, he pressed his knees into the screen until it tore. He acquired more minor scratches and tears as he slipped through and into the room. He looked around quickly for options. There were two hatches. One led to the hall. Nope. The other led to more crew’s quarters. Guess it’s this one then.

He turned the wheel to open the hatch and stepped through. To his absolute shock, it wasn’t empty. A young woman, maybe late teens or early twenties, was lying on one of the bunk beds. She wasn’t sleeping, though. She looked as though she’d been tossed on top of the bedding and knocked out during a struggle. This was the first human he’d seen since he parted with his crew several months ago. They’d taken the second ship to explore planets a few systems back, and Azare had carried on to earth alone, chasing the very craft he was running around now.

“Hey,” Azare tried to say, but his voice was weak and cracked. He cleared his throat. “Hey!” he said more clearly. “Um.” He grabbed her arm.

Her eyes came wide open at once, and she kicked at Azare, making contact with his shoulder and chest.

“Whoa!” he cried as he lost his balance and stumbled backward. He regained his composure and remained across the room as the girl stared at him with a scared-to-death expression.

“It’s okay,” he said, searching his brain for anything intelligent to say. “Um. I’m not going to hurt you. I don’t know what’s going on, but the ship’s under attack by… uh… and… we need to go. Now!”

The girl recoiled a bit and remained silent. She started searching desperately for something within the bedding, fishing out an etching pen. She nodded and waved Azare over to her as she grabbed the wheel to the hatch leading into the hallway.

“No, we can’t-” Azare started, but the girl was already halfway through the door. I guess we can.

He followed her, not sure what else to do. She turned left and sped toward the cargo bay at the back of the ship. As he entered the hallway behind her, he glanced the opposite direction. The hatch to the galley was wide open, but everything appeared normal, apart from the flashing alarms. He could see straight through to the cockpit, but there was no sign of the liquid anywhere.

Azare quickly turned and lumbered down the hallway after the girl. When she reached the large cargo bay doors, she grabbed the wheel without hesitation.

“NO!” Azare yelled so loudly it came out sounding angry. “THE DOOR IS OPEN IN THERE!”

The girl turned to him, looking annoyed, and pointed to something etched on the wall. As he caught up, he read the familiar words.

NOBODY CAN HEAR A SCREAM IN THE VACUUM OF SPACE, OR SO THEY SAY.

As he finished, the girl vigorously underlined OR SO THEY SAY with her finger. Without warning, she grabbed the wheel, spun it around, and threw open the door.

Reflexively, Azare screamed. He’d been in a situation once where an exterior door had malfunctioned on a ship in space. The memory of that feeling overwhelmed him for a moment– the feeling of oxygen being sucked out of the room and out of him. This is going to be a lot worse.

But nothing happened. He could hear his scream faintly echo once off the walls of the cargo bay. The girl raced across the bay to the exterior door that stood ajar, lowering her left shoulder and plowing into it at full speed. The door opened, but not as quickly as Azare expected from the force of the girl hitting it. Wow! That must’ve hurt.

He walked across the bay to the now wide-open door that led out into space. Space, or something, he thought. The girl was floating outside, holding onto a bar beside the door. Azare stood in place, stunned, staring at the vast emptiness outside. Impossible.

After a moment, he realized that the girl was glaring angrily at him. He also realized he’d been holding his breath. WHOOOSH. “Wha-?” He couldn’t even form words.

Reading the girl’s frustrated body language, Azare lifted one foot and let it dangle outside. His other came off the ground right after it. He grabbed the bar just below the girl’s hand. She climbed along the exterior, using the maintenance laddering that circled most of the ship. Azare followed, careful not to lose contact with the ship as they moved from one rung to the next toward the front of the ship.

“Hey,” Azare called ahead to the girl. Then, he paused for a few seconds. I can hear myself. Huh. “Who are you?”

The girl ignored him and continued around toward the cockpit and then down toward the underside of the ship. She kicked at a hatch that appeared to have been repaired several times. Its hinges looked out of place, and it had some ugly welding around the frame. After about ten kicks, the hatch swung open, much more freely than the cargo bay doors. She grabbed the frame and swung herself inside.

This is oddly familiar, Azare thought as he imitated the girl’s motions, although less gracefully. Inside the familiar space, where he’d recently thought he was going to die in a volcano and then by drowning in some mysterious liquid, he crouched and followed the girl.

After several feet, he noticed the goo pouring through the grates from the cockpit above. “Hey! Watch out!”

The girl was unphased. Instead, she continued as his knees touched the liquid. She then turned to him, watching him scramble back to the door to escape. The girl repeated her annoyed expression and pointed to the wall beside him. He glanced sideways.

DON’T BELIEVE THEM. BREATHE IN THE WATER THERE.

She pointed down furiously at the liquid, which was halfway up her stomach.

Azare couldn’t believe what was happening. Well, she was right about going outside the ship. He moved forward. The liquid had finished pouring in from above. His knees touched it, and he had to force himself to keep going, overriding all his instincts.

The girl disappeared into the darkness. When the liquid reached Azare’s chin, he paused. This is insane. He took a deep breath and let himself be overtaken. For a moment, he stared through the liquid. In contrast to the dark silhouettes he’d just been looking at, he could see his surroundings clearly and brightly. But nothing was happening, and he began to panic. He tried to swim, to move, to do anything at all, but he was suspended in the liquid, helpless. Then, he remembered the words on the wall. Defying everything his brain was telling him, he inhaled.

Azare awoke to the feeling of his arm being jerked violently. His left arm. “AAAAHHH! STOP!” He shot up, and dark, moist soil clung to his skin and clothes. As his vision returned, he saw the girl standing over him. She turned away abruptly, and, in her typical annoyed mood, marched away.

“Wait!” He choked out, too faint for her to hear him. Then, he realized where he was. He welcomed the fresh scenic air into his lungs. He cast his eyes over the valley below. There was the wreckage of the craft, just as before, and across a small lake, the volcano, seemingly dormant.

The girl was already swatting away tall grass with her bare arms, winding her way down to the ship. Azare took a step, testing his leg strength. Good enough. He took another step, then another. In a moment, he was trotting toward the rough trail the girl had stomped down. As soon as he reached the grass, he noticed something move down below. Through the gaps in the top of the ship, he saw someone moving around.

That's me.

future
Like

About the Creator

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.