Godhood

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say.

I can’t tell you if that’s an accurate fact or not, as my ears are wet with blood, the only noise in my skull a shrill ringing that bounces along my brain like an over enthused pup. Even the sound of my breathing has vanished, leaving me strangely bereft. My own breath has always been a companion to me, in dark times and joyous times, and having it stolen has given me an acute sense of loneliness.

I hang in the strange void of space, a speck of glinting armour dangling amongst the wreckage of my ship. The plump sphere below me, the verdant planet known only to me as 00356, beckons, its surface even more inviting now that I am quite certain my death creeps close. I can discern great swathes of sapphire ocean and massive stretches of land painted in a variety of warm greens. It is a rich planet, likely crowded with a variety of strange creatures that humans such as myself have never seen before.

I tear my eyes away from the planet; seeing it in all its lively glory makes me feel even worse. I scan the void around me. There are no other gleams of armour nearby. No one else seems to have escaped the ship before the missile slammed into its belly. Still, one would assume corpses would be littering the chunk of space I can see. But nothing else is in my immediate vision. Only fragments of ship scale and wire.

My panic has subsided to a steady tremble that resides stubbornly in my entire body. I had been taking a quick moment to sleep when the enemy had slunk outside of the Rapid Space Corridor and fired its deadly missile straight into the ship. Clearly our radar system had failed to sense the enemy, which leads me to believe that they had managed to locate the rare metal causcusium, mined in only one planet that resides near the edge of the Andromeda Galaxy. Without such a metal, our radar would have flagged them long before they released any ammunition.

If my assumption is true, then the attackers had been no mere pirates, but rather cold-blooded soldiers from the war, taking out one of our main cruisers. We had been halfway to the front, our ship heavy with provisions for the soldiers fighting for the human cause, and now we are dead in the water, so to speak, valuable food stuffs wasted in the tight clasp of space.

Fury replaces my panic. I’ve been in this war for nearly ten years and have seen countless atrocities that haunt both my dreams and my waking hours. Humans have been members of the Galactic for nearly a hundred years, yet there are still a variety of other races who have not accepted us as anything more than fodder. In consequence, the acts some races have committed against humans has led to multiple wars, the largest and the most current being the Rim War, a violent conflict that has taken millions of lives, human and alien.

I’m thankful I didn’t change out of my armour for my brief sleep. It is an expensive piece, one that reacts simultaneously to external threat. The moment it noted that a missile had struck the ship, my helmet had slipped from its sheath along my neck and closed around my head, moments before the vacuum of space claimed me.

I’d be dead if I had thought to change into something else.

Though I am quite certain death is not forgetting about me anytime soon.

I still can’t hear anything. I can feel an ache in both of my ears, and a warm wetness sluices down my lobes to my neck. I require medical aid, but there is no one out here to give it.

Only a broken ship filled with bodies.

It’s eerie, floating in total silence.

Planet 00356 trembles. I stare at it, uncomprehending. The trembles increase into great shudders, its rounded shape morphing into something else, something more humanoid. Its colours begin to churn together, greens and blues and browns, until it is only a deep sea-green.

But the changes don’t halt there.

I watch as two rifts appear near the top of the undulating planet. They open and reveal, of all things, a set of eyes, with pupils shaded like a forest bathed in mellow evening light. They fix me with their gaze.

Horror seizes me, but I can’t move. I have no jetpack. My armour may have saved me from the initial attack, but it is otherwise useless to me, meant only to provide oxygen and to shield me from impact.

Another fissure appears some ways below the uncanny set of eyes. It, too, gapes open, and I realize quickly that it is a sort of mouth.

Arms break from the mold next, then legs. In moments, a fully formed bipedal floats in the space in front of me.

It speaks. Or I assume it does—I cannot hear, but I see its mouth move. Its eyes narrow as I fail to respond. Fingers split into being at the bottom of each of its arms and it reaches for me.

A scream rips from my throat. I can’t hear it, but I can feel it tear from me, sharp and visceral. The planet creature’s hand dwarfs my entire body; I am but a crumb to its palm. Surely this is where I will actually die—my armour will not be able to protect me against the crushing strength of this creature.

But it doesn’t enfold me within its hand. It simply presses the tip of one of its fingers on my helmet near my ear, gentle as can be. It’s like a mountain has sidled against me and cuddled in, careful not to harm me.

Soothing warmth floods into my ear, followed by a relieving pop. Sound cascades into me, overwhelming and sweet. My ragged breathing, my heartbeat, the warning sirens my helmet has likely been shrieking into my ears since the attack. There is also a sound that reminds me of a strong wind twisting over the peaks of a mountain; I think it comes from the planet creature.

It moves its hand away from me. I feel off-kilter; only one of my ears is working. The other is still a deafened, bloody mess. I press one of the buttons on the wrist of my armour; the warning sirens quiet.

“Now you can hear me,” the planet creature’s mouth moves, and this time I catch the words that drop from it, great ringing syllables that resound in my head. I can’t help but gasp as the rumble burrows into my chest and shakes every bone in my body.

The creature continues to speak. “I have gifted you with one healed wound—the others will stay, as there are things that have stained you, and you do not deserve a fate void of suffering.” It regards me with its forested eyes, an otherworldly wisdom snagging my own gaze and holding it hostage. Within its depths I can discern dappled shadows shivering over dense foliage, golden streams of light limning each shadow with a powerful incandescence that is difficult for me to comprehend.

“What—who are you?” My tongue is clumsy in my mouth, my voice feeble.

“Knowing the truth of me does not matter to a mind such as yours.”

I simply hang there, mouth agape. The stars gleam all around us, cold and judgmental.

“You have held lives in your palm and have willingly ended them,” the creature states. “Though there is enough within you that I recognize as worthy. So I will send you someplace where you may survive.”

Indignation bubbles up. “I have only killed because I am in a war,” I protest. “I defend my race. You do not know the atrocities committed against us, simply because we are human.”

“Humans have always been a self-contained race, blinded by their own need to survive and feel superior,” it lifts both of its hands and cups them in front of me. Images begin to flicker in its palms, reminding me of the televisions back home. “You tell me you are innocent?” The images stabilize, and I am greeted by a memory I had suppressed.

Within the memory I am standing, my armour stained by the blue blood of my enemy. I wear no helmet, so my face is fully visible. My cheeks are bled of any colour and my eyes are distant, glazed. I hold a gun in one hand, smoke still drifting from it. I remember this day as vividly as if it had happened moments ago, not years. It was the day that gave me a Medal of Honour because I had led our soldiers to victory against the enemy.

It was also the day that convinced me to step down from battle duty and into a more quiet life.

I stare at the memory, tears hot in my eyes. The corpses of lavalins surround me, their wedge–shaped heads askew, their reptilian arms still clinging to the shining broadswords their race prefers to use. It’s all as I remember. Even the baked soil is the same, cracked and brown.

But what I don’t remember is the soldier behind me, who holds a young lavalin in his arms. He stares down at the baby alien with a vaguely bewildered expression.

“What do we do with survivors, commander?” He asks.

The me in the memory doesn’t even look. I simply begin to walk away. “None deserve mercy,” I say. “They don’t deign to give us any, so why should we give it to them?”

The planet creature allows the memory to fade. I don’t know what the soldier did with the babe, but I doubt he had spared it. My tears fall.

“I don’t remember that,” I whisper.

“I do not show falsehoods,” it responds. “I only show the truth of the fabric of your timeline.

“I have come to the conclusion that you have much to learn. Take the lessons I provide you with humility and strength. Survive the gauntlet, and prove you are capable of rinsing the wounds within you. If you succeed, a new life will unfold for you.”

I am given no chance to respond; the planet creature once again reaches for me. Instead of placing a fingertip on my helmet, as before, it enfolds me within its hand.

I expect to die. A great pressure builds against my body. I clench my eyes shut. My helmet’s warning sirens blare once again. Breaching atmosphere. No flight applications are available.

Wait, what? Breaching atmosphere?

I open my eyes and am greeted by a clear sky. Below me is a fast approaching landscape of forest and valleys.

The planet creature didn’t crush me—it sent me hurtling into its depths.