The Sound Devil

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. Throat coarse, I was pleading for a savior after being cast away like last week’s trash into the void of endless nothing. Backstabbed by my crewmates. I counted the seconds as I floated aimlessly, slowly observing the oxygen gauge within my suit depleting. I thank my lucky stars every night that Yerma had heard my desperate prayers. My oxygen had just about run out before the greatest opportunity would find its way to me. I wasn’t about to squander this fantastic moment granted to me by the labyrinth of constellations we call space. Gazing upon this maze from the inside, or I guess in my case maybe the outside, is an experience beyond imagination. You realize just how massive ‘nothing’ really is, and during a miracle you realize just how small the universe can be. It’s quite a shame that I must become the villain.

*****

Laid out on the floor was all the gear I would need for the upcoming mission. This included a loaded handgun with spare cartridges, another gun with unique shells that have different effects, a combat knife, four 2-foot-long metal sticks for close range endeavors that through the clever use of magnetism have the capability of forming a staff when combined, a few sound grenades here, a couple flash bombs there, and a neat alien weapon resembling an earthly weapon known as the “tonfa”. However, what sets it apart is the retractable blade located at the long end of the weapon. Depending on the situation, I could choose to go for a more tactical approach with the blade, which has been pre-dipped in slow-acting poison meant to slowly put my opponent to sleep the longer the fight goes on. Plus, I could even add an electrical charge to the blade with a push of a button as long as it’s extended. This is my personal weapon of choice. The different shells mentioned earlier each have unique applications. For example, one of the shells propels tiny moon rocks using highly compressed air in case I needed to attack someone from a distance without blowing a hole through a spaceship. The common theme: I’d rather not destroy the ship I’m on if for any reason I needed to fight for my life. The other items are various other essentials like flashlights, matches, and other survival tools.

The suit I would wear for the mission wouldn’t be donned until we were closer to launch. Now all that was left to grab was the pendant that my wife had bought me with the help of my little girl, Rose. Hanging on a silver chain, this dangling pendant was two thorned roses placed on top of each other in a sort of helix shape. The roses crossed through a handgun’s trigger guard–a loose reference to my favorite earthly band of that time. These were colored independent from the chain. Its purpose was to keep my sweet rambunctious child and beautifully flawed wife that I chose to leave behind for my past mission close to my heart. Inexplicable beauty usually comes in the form of well-balanced contradictions. I put it around my neck and tucked it underneath my shirt. Before I left, I made sure to offer a quick prayer to the omniscient Yerma.

It was a mission I had requested of my own accord. I was granted permission by the Master Sergeant, the Prime Minister of Omalif and a written signature approval from each member of the Unified Properties (U.P.). Even with my credentials, I was surprised to see such overwhelming support. Only a few leaders seemed to be against the prospect of an earthling being in charge of such an important mission. After a bit of talking, most of them accepted the idea, one of them going as far as to completely change his stance and advocate for the mission. A small Omalif unit had found me suspended in space and brought me in. Grateful, I offered my services to them, and they decided to allow me to join the military. I was the first earthling they had ever made contact with, stranded by his own team. I tend to refer to this day as “the Reboot”, as a means of detachment. I’m not a fan of remembering my past trauma, so I think of it as the starting point for personal change. That was a very useful trick from my alien therapist. There was no way they would allow me to join the military after I had lived through such a horrific tragedy without extensively thorough monitoring and mandatory hands-on therapy sessions. With that out of the way, I quickly rose in rank, being mentored with extreme care into a highly capable soldier, making it all the way to sergeant. Earthlings appear to have a longer lifespan, so it seemed to be a reasonable assumption that these accolades didn’t take as much time to collect, and I had the resume to back up my rank. Still, their ranking system was less about time and more about cold, hard merit. Everyone that made it as far as I did had to earn it fair and square.

I had requested to do this mission alone but thanks to a conglomerate of political haggling, they had selected a crew for me. This was non-negotiable. Each member was coming from a different nation involved with the Unified Properties and with their own personal skill set. I was given a doctor, a translator, a survival expert, a navigator, a ship mechanic, a communications expert, a sniper, and an attorney with seemingly boundless knowledge of universal law (simply regarding laws of their planet in regard to space and overall space do’s, don’ts, and courtesies). This attorney would also be logging the trip for the U.P. to read back in full after the mission was over or in case the mission went sideways. I would be tasked with leading the world’s best and brightest into battle.

The mission is simple. Investigate what had happened the day of my rescue and find out what happened to my ship and the rest of my crew, investigate the cause of destruction, and determine the potential threat level this destruction has to our planet. This could be a huge leap toward communication with the human race in the form of a possible alliance, closure for one of Omalif’s most honorable soldiers, and most importantly, proper foresight into a possible planetary threat. My loyalty is with Omalif and the planet in which it resides, Monkwanaan.

An important thing to mention, these aliens were only mostly humanoid. They had an extra set of arms, no head, and antennae where the head should be with eyes on the end like snails on earth had. They ate by absorbing their food through their hands and the nerves in their hands doubled as taste buds. I didn’t completely understand how that worked exactly, but it made dinner conversation a little awkward the first time around. It also made it difficult to figure out what and how they could feed me when I had arrived. They are also lilac colored and have the ability to inflate their bodies to appear larger to an impressive extent, but without that the males usually clock out at about 5’4” on average. Their bodies are overall weaker than humans, which is why I would be running point during missions. On the field if I can’t be in command, the communications expert would take charge due to being second highest in rank, seeing as communication is extremely essential during a high stakes operation. Third in command falls on our sniper.

I walked down the tiny corridor, hair nearly grazing the ceiling as I strolled, towards where I would meet–for only the second time–my brand-new team. Once I reached the middle of the lengthy hallway, it had the nauseating effect of the destination getting farther away the closer I advanced. These rooms were not made with humans in mind. With every passerby, I almost had to turn sideways to let them through just so that I didn’t body check them. It was beaming with almost blinding white lights. “I figure I should come up with a name for our group. It’s not every day you get to form a team of the world’s greatest and most accomplished people. We’re making Monkwanaan history!” I thought. The prospect of that was really exciting. “Maybe we could be the Space Rangers? Maybe the Star Warriors? Maybe I should just leave it to them.”

Thankfully, I entered a room with a much larger ceiling. This was the mess hall where I would be meeting my crew. I was about 30 minutes early, with the sniper reading at one table and, on the other side of the room, the survival expert was chatting with the navigator over some suspicious looking alien gourmet. Ironically, the communications expert was by himself, secluded by headphones and completely undisturbed by the sudden company. Being that these aliens don’t have heads, the headphones are more ‘shoulder phones’ with the head strap holding snug behind the antennae. For some reason, he made me feel uneasy, so I shifted my focus over to the right towards the others. The survivalist had a lighter skin tone a little closer to the color pink than the other two and held wider eyes atop his shorter antennae. The navigator looked to be the youngest of the three, which seemed surprising considering navigating the vast plane of space seems like it would take a lifetime. The way he carried himself was like a young man who was excited for his first day with a fresh new job. It’s possible he’s one of those guys that looks younger than he really is, I figured. How else would someone so young make it onto such an elite collection of soldiers? Like the rest, he wore a bright orange camo suit. They were all carrying some kind of weapon or another. To some that may be concerning, but to me nothing could be more reassuring than having complete access to the best personal bodyguards Monkwanaan has to offer. Tons of empty chairs and tables were littered throughout the room. Windows lined up across the wall from the floor reaching up to the ceiling. The maintenance team on this ship did a stellar job keeping the area tidy for us. You could practically see your reflection off the floor, windows, and tables.

While I waited for the doctor, the attorney, the mechanic, and the translator to arrive, I found myself reminiscing about my old crew. I almost felt wrong for being a part of another crew after all that time spent together before being launched into space with that “thing”. Not to mention, my heart was pounding. Trauma is a serious matter, and that horrible day broke me. They had unanimously made the decision to cast me out thinking I was that monster… even my best friend back then. That man was the best man at my wedding once upon a time. I’m no longer the man I once was. If I manage to find what made my crew turn on me, I’m going to wipe it off the face of this universe like the bugs I used to crush beneath my shoes on Earth. If I can’t punish the cause of my crew’s suffering, I’m going after the man himself. Someone has to pay, and I’ve already paid my sins in gold through my service to the people of Omalif–the only race that had even attempted to save me. As far as I’m concerned, these people were the true children of Yerma, the all-knowing and all encompassing. The laws of space and time are controlled within Her merciful hands.

The rest of the crew had finally gathered altogether. I called everyone to attention ready to give my rallying speech and a brief mission review. Honestly, after the failure that was my last space team, I can’t trust a single person here. I’ve led other teams in the past of course, but this is the first time going back into space with one. Concerned that my worry would carry through my voice, I pushed it aside and took a breath.

“Thank you all for coming. You are all highly acclaimed soldiers who all deserve to be here, and it is an honor to be given the privilege of leading such an impressive team of experts on one of the most important moments in our planet’s history. As I’m sure you’ve heard, my name is Michael Walter. I have a wife and child back on Earth that are currently out of my reach. I was born a human, made huge advancements as an astronaut there, and then due to the circumstances that caused this mission in the first place, I was rescued by the Omalifs and became a sergeant among their ranks. They have become my new family. This planet has shown me nothing but kindness and respect, and for that, I have dedicated my life to serving it and the infinitely intelligent Yerma. You are all here with your own amazing stories and motivations for this very same purpose. Let us put our minds together in unison and fight for the citizens and the beautiful planet of Monkwanaan!”

The speech must've been pretty effective, because I got a standing ovation from some of the soldiers. As I went over the mission, I could see the doctor was a little uneasy. Plus, the attorney was staring me down as if he was reading my soul like a book. But aside from that, the crew proved its competency as I spoke. Already they were formulating ideas and working out where their skillsets and knowledge could be best applied and how. I’d expect nothing less from a team of such high caliber. I made sure to mention that our enemy is still one mysterious wildcard, and that their technology, indestructibility, and intelligence could far outpace our own.

The Navigator proved himself to be extremely clever, and the survivalist naturally witty. It made a lot of sense they would hit it off. The doctor was very clear about what he would need in the ship and the kind of procedures we should follow on the field to ensure that he doesn’t need to be thrown into the fray for any reason. This wasn't out of laziness, but out of necessity. The mechanic wrote a list of the various demands everyone had. He would be the one to report to the superiors what they would need on the ship, aside from whatever they chose to bring. The sniper mentioned that he has great long-range capabilities, but he’s only effective at those long ranges if his targets are stationary and that it’s our duty to direct the target into his line of sight. He had a strong fire in his eyes as he talked about his craft. He also mentioned he would take care of whatever recon, leadership, or describing he would need to do with the help of the communications expert who quietly nodded in agreement. The attorney mostly just listened but made sure to give us a list of ‘common-sense’ international laws we would have to follow in accordance with our alliance with U.P. As for the translator, he could speak about 20 different languages fluently, one or two of which being languages spoken on Earth… somehow. He warned us that his knowledge was vast but also limited within the grand scale of the universe. “Have faith in Yerma,” he said throughout this meeting.

Since that fateful day, it's been about 5 years. Like anyone after having their heart broken, I took to the gym. I trained my mind, body, and spirit to be as sharp as humanly possible. I had a passion, one that nearly turned itself into an obsession. That burning passion was vengeance. I’m not sure who or what it was that started picking off my team and throwing it into chaos, but when I find out I’ll show them what it’s like to lose the footing underneath you and lose connection with loved ones… I mean that literally. As for Earth, I had requested that Omalif notify me if Earth sent any rescue ships. Not a single one arrived. Earth was not the compassionate landscape that it once was. They’re more concerned over budget than actual human life. I vowed before being launched from Earth that I would see my family again, even if I have to step over others in my path.

After the plan, most of us socialized, fully knowing that we would be spending the next 6 months or so living and working together. We wouldn’t want to rush into all of this without at least some semblance of teamwork in mind. The aspect of working together even before the mission is vital to our success. Failure to do so could be devastating. Slowly, we trailed off to our respective rooms to prepare for a grueling day of training first thing in the morning. Being the leader, I briefly talked to everyone before they left and made sure to be the last one to leave. The mechanic was the first. He practically snuck out of there to what I assumed was to fill the doctor's orders. Before he left, I made sure to get his name. I’ve seen what a lack of trust can do to a crew and it’s pretty lonely. This meeting was an attempt to prevent that from happening.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the last person, our navigator, retreated to his quarters. He was way too talkative for my liking but a nice guy nonetheless. Definitely seemed like the kind of person who doesn’t have an evil bone in his body. He and the survival specialist made great impressions in particular. Both held an abundance of charisma behind their words. Every team needs people like that. That was what my friend and I used to be on that original mission. I crawled beneath my sheets. I’ve changed a lot since then, I thought to myself, for better or for worse. I love and hate the duality of it. I went from happy-go-lucky to rueful and full of spite towards humanity and even the team I had once been really fond of. They were my space family by choice. In place of nonchalance, patience, and understanding, I’m now stuck with passion, ambition, and conviction.

I won’t however claim that I’m morally right, nor will I claim to be of pure intentions. I’m still a man. I’m only human. I’m aware that in their position I would’ve done the same thing. Fear is one of the most powerful forces of life. It dictates your actions, steals freedom, causes anger and violence, blinds you, causes inferiority and jealousy. I know all too well what fear can do. It turned a stiff headed atheist like me into a man of strong faith in a mere instant. Even now, I’m fearful that I may never be able to see my wife and daughter again and fulfill the promise I made to my little girl, that I would bring her flowers on my way home from space. Fear is the ultimate motivator, which is why I plan to channel it into a job well done and make sure that what happened before won’t ever happen to me again. I don’t know who or what caused this to happen to me, but in the end, it doesn’t even matter because it’s all the same. Death isn’t an option. Success is the only way I can see my girls again and that’s all that matters. Maybe when this is all over, and if Earth decides to maintain peace with the Unified Properties, I may even be able to complete my original mission.

As the ship drifted into space, and as I drifted into a deep slumber, someone on the ship was hard at work in the lab. The mechanic hasn’t quite had enough for the night. What he’s constructing may be one of the most important pieces of the operation upon the request of the Unified Properties unbeknownst to me. An atomic sound bomb, or what the translator would later coin as “El Diablo Sonoro”, Spanish for “The Sound Devil”. How this polyglot knows Spanish of all things is beyond me. Man, maybe I should’ve had him name our crew.