The Ex-Solar

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. That of course depends on your definition of hearing. Sure, in a vacuum, the lack of a physical medium makes sound an impossibility, but hearing a sound… Well, that is a different story.

Everything we see, hear, touch, smell, or taste is a function of perception. Our senses are simple categorizations for what ultimately are just electrical signals being interpreted by our brains. While there were certainly attempts, this phenomenon was never weaponized by humanity in any serious capacity. Unfortunately for humanity, we aren’t the only kids on the block anymore.

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I was one of the first ex-solars chosen. When I got the news, I remember being scared at first, but more than anything, relieved. The ex-solar program started as an answer to the age-old question: What can we do with all these prisoners?

Humanity had essentially destroyed Earth to the point that only the disgustingly wealthy still had homes in the controlled environments we setup there. To everyone else, it was an expensive vacation, a once in a lifetime trip even. These days, Mars more closely resembled what records of Earth described it to once be, that is, if the earliest Earth civilizations were run by megalomaniac billionaires.

Right before we figured out how to recreate the magnetic field and atmospheric properties of Earth, massive plots of land went up, for sale, on the surface of the red planet. Somehow, this went unquestioned by the public who had seemingly lost their ability to discern between corporate overstep and legality. Unfortunately for me, an underground resistance formed during the mass exodus of Earth. I joined at my first opportunity.

The new Mars settlements we were being moved to were free from the bonds of earthly tradition. There were no founding fathers to call back to, or land that had been in a family for generations. Everyone was starting from square one, except the wealthiest of us, who were starting from square, I don’t know, one thousand.

One thing led to another and eventually I found myself leading a group of rebels that blew up a string of production facilities, mega-exclusive private residences, and even a few country clubs. After several successful operations, and lots of dead rich people, I was one of Mars’ top-ten most wanted terrorists! The resistance regarded me as a hero, but all in all, it never mattered. Humanity was given a chance to start anew, and once again, greed and corruption drove us into the same corner we were in on Earth. None of the rebels, resistances, politicians, or martyrs who lived on Earth, Mars or anywhere else ever changed a damn thing in the grand scheme of things.

Once I got caught, I was planning on writing a manifesto, as famous terrorists generally do from prison. I was going to present as clearly as I could, what humanity was doing wrong and how letting corporations operate with complete impunity would leave Mars just as damaged as Earth. Over time, my execution date grew closer, and my desire to help humanity grew weaker. Being on death row really makes you consider what is, and is not, worth your time, and I realized that humanity just wasn’t worth my time. That’s why, when I was told about being chosen for the ex-solar program, I felt such relief. Humanity was no longer going to be a concern for me.

The training program was reasonably short. Those chosen for the ex-solar program were criminals with academic and science backgrounds. Before I was a famous terrorist, I was a software developer working on the life support systems that maintained the thousands of orbital stations still housing many of Earth’s former residents. This made me an ideal choice for the program, as my captors regrettably informed me time and time again. The ship we would be operating was designed for long space-time jumps, sustainability, and independence from fuel. The one thing it didn’t have, was a reliable way to return home. The training program even referred to the ship as a “probe” which always made the brutish guards standing around me smile. When the training concluded, the last thing we were told was that carrying out our mission was how we would repent for our actions in the solar system. If we strayed from our mission, there would be consequences, although they never went into specifics.

When we finally embarked on our mission, I remember seeing that my original execution day was within the month. A lot of my fellow crew felt this was just a much more complicated way of executing us, but for me, I finally felt like I had a purpose. First, we had to fly out past the asteroid belt, which took quite some time since for some reason it was illegal to activate pulse engines inside the solar system. If nothing else, it gave us some time to get to know one another, which was nice. There was myself, who the entire crew already knew, since for better or worse, I was the most high-profile of the bunch.

There was Sandra LeCourt who since being sent to prison, went by Sugar. She was a young doctor who took up assassin work to help pay off her medical school debt. She primarily used poisons accessible through her work and was only caught when wrongly accused of malpractice, ironically.

There was Orson Grey who came from a long line of engineers that he claimed you could trace all the way back to Elon Musk. He was working on the precursors for the very ship we were in before he developed an expensive snivvy addiction. It helped him stay productive during the long hours required at work, which wasn’t a problem when it was only rotting his brain. Unfortunately, he was forced to sell proprietary blueprints on the black market to stay in the green, and was unanimously sentenced to execution shortly after.

There was Mikhail Strohovsky who preferred to go by Misha. He was another doctor, like Sugar, but he also had a PhD and became a professor of both medicine and physics before he was thirty. Misha did not talk much about why he started building and selling bombs, but he loved to talk about how he made them. If only I had known him back on Mars, he would have had a loyal customer.

Finally, there was Allison. Allison was not a criminal. She was the representative from the solar space command and apparently, volunteered to go on this mission to be our captain, although I never believed she came willingly. She didn’t like to talk much about herself, and constantly made it clear, that she was not like the rest of us. She was the only one who was armed, which always made me laugh considering how little of a physical threat any of us were.

Eventually, we reached our launch point close to Jupiter’s orbital path. Space-time travel was still relatively new technology and had never been tested with human pilots. The science showed that we would be fine, but politicians with English and history degrees forbade the program from launching with trained astronauts. Thus, the ex-solar program began to take shape.

Allison talked us through the launch preparation, but luckily, there was barely anything we had to do. Our crew was put together primarily to assist Allison in areas that she was unable to manage entirely on her own. I was going to maintain the on-board computer systems, Sugar would see to the health of the crew, Orson would maintain the physical well-being of the ship, Misha was a bit of a wild card to be honest, and Allison would do everything else.

After confirming that we were ready to launch, Allison started a broadcast that was to be sent back to the solar space command. They had created, over the last few generations, a series of beacons in the solar system as well as strategically scattering them throughout deep space. Supposedly this network could carry optic signals over impossibly far distances. I didn’t understand the technology behind it, but Misha assured me that it was effective. After Allison finished her dramatic speech, Sugar asked why we hadn’t received any word back. Allison told us all that the beacons were one-way only. We could send messages to command, but we would never receive anything back. Misha explained that essentially, our solar system was now the center of an artificial curve in an already curved universe that we were travelling along. Basically, our messages would effortlessly fall down the side of a "bowl" while messages from the center could never get back out to the edge where we were.

Allison strapped herself into her chair, and in direct contrast to the drama and showmanship from her speech, casually counted us down before launching the first ever humans into hyperspace travel.

I was amazed with how wrong hyperspace travel was portrayed in every movie and show I’d ever seen. The dramatic build up followed by intense shaking and striking visuals was a stark contrast to the relatively calm feeling during the jump. The stars admittedly, did blur together, but more as a single mass of dull light. The most shocking part to me, was that you could have heard a pin drop in the cabin. There wasn’t a single noise, rumble, shake, or anything. If I had closed my eyes, I could have been sitting in a chair back on Mars’ surface.

When we came out of hyperspace, Allison congratulated us on humanity’s first ever successful space-time jump. The crew was generally excited, but Allison’s tone was that of a grade-school teacher just waiting to go home. Moments after Allison finished her broadcast back to command, I heard the first whisper. At first it was just a slight murmur in my head, but then it became as loud as a scream. Allison immediately commanded that we all return to our bed chambers and stay there until told otherwise. This was a few hours ago now. Us being the criminals we were, had doors that locked from the outside, so there was nothing to do except wait here for Allison, and listen to the incessant whispers…

You guide usss… You feed usss… You become usss… You guide usss… You feed usss… You become usss… You guide usss… You feed usss… You become usss…

Over and over, I could hear the whispers. I wondered if the other’s heard them as clearly as I did but judging from the panic shortly after we came out of hyperspace, I assumed they did. I tried to cover my ears at first, but it did nothing to the volume or consistency of the voice. I tried to speak and yell over it, but like a maggot that had entrenched itself in a wound, it only dug deeper and deeper. I tried everything I could to make the sound stop, but in reality, it wasn’t a sound at all.

After some time, I heard Orson scream from his chamber. He was begging Allison to let him live. He was pleading with her for his life as loud as he could. He reminded her of how important his job as the mechanical engineer of the ship was to the success of the missions. Allison screamed back at him that he didn’t even know what the mission was, and he was just a scumbag drug addict who we didn’t need.

Then, I heard a pregnant silence underscored by the welcome absence of the voice.

Then I heard a gunshot.

Then the voice started again.

You guide usss… You feed usss… You become usss… You guide usss… You feed usss… You become usss… You guide usss… You feed usss… You become usss…

I looked towards my cabin door and saw the handle start to spin. The door swung open, and Allison had arrived, to kill me I assumed.

“Alright then, just shoot me in the head and don’t miss please.” I said.

“What the hell are you talking about Smith?”

“I heard you kill Orson, and I’d rather just be done with this quick.” I spat at her.

“Mate, what are you talking about?” Orson said, as he entered my room behind Allison.

“You have been passed out since we exited the jump. Orson and I were coming in to check on you, but maybe you need more rest?”

“Oh, thanks. Im… uh, I’m fine. Can you two just give us a moment.”

“Us?” Allison asked.