Shift

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. I hear it though, clear as day. The cacophonic roar erupts soundlessly, mentally, driving me from slumber to crystal clear awakening. The sound and the images are spaced by mere seconds. First, the image of people in cages followed by an explosion of blood-red haze amongst the stars. The screams come next; like a video stream out of sync with audio. The screams begin as a multitude of whimpers, then escalate into a crescendo of wails that’s abruptly extinguished.

This is not the first time I’ve had this dream. It’s been going on for a while. It’s become a sort of a macabre alarm clock, waking me for duty aboard the starship Asimov. Why me, I wonder, I’m nobody. I make coffee for crying out loud.

“Issac, are you listening to me?” Captain Clark looks impatient, as always.

“Yes sir, Earl Grey, hot, coming right up!” I turn and start the water for his tea. Why tea, I fume, why not coffee like the rest of them? I’m a barrista, not a dai kum jeh. The kettle whistles, bringing me back to the task at hand. The captain takes his tea with a grunt and sits at the officers table nearby.

Ursula shoots me a concerned look.

“Still not sleeping?”

“It’s not the sleeping that’s getting to me, it’s the waking.”

“Still hearing screams?” Her expression drifts towards boredom. We’ve had this chat.

“Yeah, same thing; people in cages, a flash of red, then the screams.”

“Did you try the herbal tea I told you about?”

Again with the tea; what is it with tea around here? I’ve tried everything. I’ve set my actual alarm clock a few minutes early, I’ve tried staying awake, it’s always the same. I drift off and the screams wake me up.

Ursula's my best friend. I really want her to be something more but she's got a boyfriend. A boyfriend I absolutely hate. The dude's got it all; looks, build, rank and everyone thinks he the smartest guy on the ship. And maybe he is. But can he make a decent cup of coffee? I don't think so.

Conversation from the officer’s table reaches my consciousness. I hear something about hostages and a ransom demand.

“Hey Ursula, take the register, will ya?”

I grab a cloth and head over for a closer listen.

“The Mule claims to have an entire population in chains. He says he’ll blast ‘em to smithereens if we don’t release the Doctor.” The First Officer looks grim.

Captain Clark sips his tea thoughtfully. “Do we have any proof that he isn’t bluffing?”

“Intelligence Bureau reports they have no information on any missing population, or any people in chains for that matter. They think he’s bluffing.”

“He’s never done anything this extravagant before. An explosion here, an assassination there, never any large-scale operations. Why now?”

The first Officer glances my way. “Something we can do for you, Issac?”

Startled, I drop the cloth. “No Sir, Sorry Sir! Just, uh, wiping up this spill, Sir!” I drop and begin furiously scrubbing at some non-existent stain.

The Captain sits back and says, absently, “Let it be for now, Issac. Bring me another cup of tea.”

As I head back behind the counter I wonder if my dreams have anything to do with the Mule and his population of prisoners.