The XTech 10K

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. But I heard it. Was it a scream? Whatever it was, I shouldn't be able to hear it. I shouldn't be able to hear anything in space. I shook my head. I knocked on the side of my XTech 10K helmet a couple of times to make sure I wasn't dreaming. I couldn't pinch myself in a space suit. It was still there, the scream that had started suddenly, coming from... there! But what was there? Nothing unusual. Just the planet cluster we had been terraforming for the last fifty years, with the permission of the locals, of course.

This sound was making me crazy. I wondered if anyone on board could hear it or if I was just losing my mind. Before I checked and got officially labeled as star-struck, I wanted to get a grip. My anxiety level was headed in the wrong direction. I had to get that sound out of my head or I was going to lose it.

I came back from the side of the ship to the airlock hand over hand and stepped inside. I had the weirdest feeling that when I sealed the lock I would still hear the screaming. That would prove it was all in my head. But no, once the airlock closed, the deafening sound cut off. So the scream was real! What could be making that sound? And more than that, what was carrying it through space?

I debated keeping the information to myself until I could sort it out. Then I thought, that's stupid. Someone else had to have heard it. It's just a matter of time 'til someone remembers I'm on duty outside and will have heard it. Best to come clean with it. It had been awfully loud, so maybe -

Blue lights flashed along the upper panels of the corridor and I knew I was out of time to think. Blue meant Crew Meeting - Unforeseen Circumstance. I propelled myself along the halls, trying to prepare. What could it be? Was the scream the circumstance? Did anyone realize yet that I'd heard it firsthand? Would I have to testify as to where I thought it came from? Or was this some other, new issue I hadn't seen coming?

I tucked my XTech under my arm and took a seat in the auditorium. People were milling about. I was usually pretty laid-back, but for some reason, the lack of order irritated me. This was specifically the kind of meeting everybody needed to sit down and shut up for. I fumed. And, I was kind of nervous. I hoped I wouldn't have to speak. I hated that. In my small group I was fine, but in front of all of this crew, not so much.

The big screen up front crackled to life. The woman I recognized as Speaker Monroe walked up on stage in front of it and called us to order. Rustling and muttering settled down to silence. Speaker told us of a disturbance we had just experienced then said we'd best see it for ourselves. She stepped aside.

The screen lit up. It showed a console full of flat, digital buttons and dials, then a flash of light spreading across it, followed by a spreading darkness which looked like char. It happened quickly. The Speaker returned to center stage.

"Burnout," she urged us, "has never happened on a World United vessel since the 21st century. Yet it just did. This panel was in the laundry room, no big deal -"

Explosive laughter came as people who had been holding their breath let it out.

"However, as I'm sure you're aware, if this could happen in the laundry, it could happen anywhere on board. And it's not happened in so many years. We have technology that prevents it. So are we under attack? Is our vessel failing? It would be a small thing but nothing is small this far away from home. And something this, this... low-tech, if it is an attack, says what? Is this sabotage from the inside? What are we dealing with? Our policy of transparency requires us to share this with all of you. I realize the potential for over-reaction and I urge you not to. Please do, however, bring any and all information you may have to my office so we can eliminate this threat as quickly as possible."

She dismissed us and the meeting dispersed. I considered talking to the Speaker. She didn't mention the scream. No one had. No one had pulled me aside or asked me anything. Had anyone else heard it? I started to head to my quarters and I realized something. The scream had only stopped because I came inside. I had cut it off, in effect. Whoever was screaming could still be doing it. They could still need help. They could need a serious rescue.

I didn't know what we could do, but we could try. But again, what could make a scream that loud and why could I hear it in space? And, well, I had a lot more questions. I needed to get other people involved. But just in case... I headed back through the corridors I had come from. I had to check again. If there was no scream this time, there would be no way to find the injured party. And I'd have no way to help them. So, just to be sure.

I put my XTech helmet back on and pressed the airlock button. The blast hit me instantly. A gong, a megaphone, cymbals, anything that could make you wish you had your fingers in your ears was nothing compared to this sound. I had forgotten already how bad it was, and how loud. Coming from the same direction. Did it sound almost like... multiple voices? Almost like a synthesizer. Digital. But still so human, and so anguished.

Suddenly it stopped. I could think now. Why had it stopped? Was the person or people no longer being tortured or hurt or -

The scream started up again. I had to get away from it. I scrambled to get the door closed this time, and breathed my relief once the outer and inner doors were shut. I yanked my neck seal loose and took the helmet off. Now I had to go to somebody, and do something. Someone needed help. But who were they? How far away were they? Down on planet IIB? What could I or any of us do to help? And maybe most strangely, why did it seem like I was the only one that could hear them?

I decided to talk to the Speaker. She was a no-nonsense type, but she might listen. I went to her office and pressed the Knock pad. The Come In light lit up. I went in.

"Speaker Monroe," I began, and she waved me into a pleather chair in front of her massive mahogany desk. I shook my head as I sat, frustrated. I guessed I had to do things at her pace.

"My guilty pleasure," she said, and pushed a Diet Coke from the 21st century replica store across to me. The condensation on the outside beaded nicely. The top popped satisfyingly. An ice cold sip took the edge off of my nerves. Of course it wasn't real caffeine anymore, but the logo and everything else were authentic. I settled into the chair and looked at my arms. I had goosebumps from the chill.

"Now, Heath, how can I help you? Do you know something about this burnout we've experienced? Perhaps you're eager to get the laundry back online?" She chuckled. I took another sip to steady myself. I set the can on the desk.

"I'm not sure, ma'am. What I came to you about could be completely unrelated. Or... I don't know." I felt unsure. I probably looked ready to run. But I knew what I had heard, twice. And it was likely still happening.

"I was outside of that station, ma'am, when I heard an odd sound-"

"You heard?"

"I heard-"

"Oh, through your communications equipment; carry on."

"No, you were right the first time. I heard a scream. In space. Ma'am."

We sat staring at one another for a few moments until I picked up my Coke and drank some nervously. I probably sounded like a lunatic. If there was anything that everyone on board this space station and down on that planet cluster knew, it was that you can't hear anything in space.

"So... you thought you heard a sound that wasn't from your headset-"

"I know I did. It was loud. All around. A deafening scream. Coming from the main planet, ma'am. II B. It could be a cry for help. I feel like... I feel like we have to do something. I don't know what, though. Investigate, I guess. Try to pinpoint it and send a team."

She laughed. It sounded involuntary.

"If there were trouble on the planet, don't you think there would be officials down there handling it? Why would we send someone from up here? And-" She looked thoughtful.

"You can't hear anything in space... No, we'd be chasing our own tails. I don't know what you heard, but that can't be right."

"I promise you, I heard it. I'll take a few other people with me and they'll hear it, too. Then we can make a plan. I just thought I should come to you first."

"Now hold on. I don't want you alarming people when we've already got this burnout issue to deal with. It could be anything. Do you really think this is a good idea?"

"It has to be done. Someone is in trouble. Whom do you recommend I take?"

Down on planet IIB, which had become the 'main' planet of the cluster, today was the day. Fifty years to the day since the treaty had been signed. Peace, cooperation, and a promise, between enterprising Earthlings who claimed they needed to colonize this cluster, and the area's original inhabitants. Peace had indeed been forged between so-called founding fathers and the natives. They called themselves something that sounded like "Pigeons" to the Earthlings, a little slurred and a little unpronounceable. And a little funny, because they didn't look like pigeons. Still a point of amusement among those who remembered the feathered pests from back home.

Today, with little fanfare, families lined up in the streets leading to the main city's main hospital. No one thought much of it, as it had been a known quantity in all of the families for ages. Like a selective service, it was just a thing you had to do. And so they were ready to do their civic duty.

All the Pigeons had asked for in exchange for letting Earth settlers colonize their land was a promise that in 50 years Pigeon descendants could perform a very simple and harmless procedure - which they offered to demonstrate - on a limited number of human descendants. All to the good of the Pigeon people, with no detriment to the Earth people.

Of course Earthlings did not trust this deal at first. What procedure was this? What guarantee did they have that no harm would come to their descendants? No way in Hell would they allow their children's children to be experimented on. And if it really was harmless, what was in it for the Pigeons, who were giving up land? It sounded too good to be true.

The Pigeons could not be convinced to reveal how this procedure would benefit their people. Finally, a few brave Earth volunteers offered to undergo the procedure in hopes of shedding light on what the humans might have to endure. They were put in hospital type beds and tended to by Pigeon doctors. Then they were put into what appeared to be a state of restful sleep.

They performed their procedure, which looked a bit like an old-time herbalist routine, waved and weaved over ten patients at a time, to an observer who spoke about it later. Five beds to the left and five to the right, with smoke and chanting, but no visible harm that anyone could see. After an hour or so, the patients awoke, apparently no worse for the wear.

And so the treaty was signed, human families were marked for the future participation, and life and colonization went on. The observers weren't privy to concealed life-sized containers with a digital copy of each volunteer's soul swirling in it. Neither had anyone yet developed a technology that would let a human hear the soul scream as this digital body was being ripped from the unlucky person. Or the collective digital scream of ten people at once, loud enough to buffet the planets. Not until fifty years later, at the harvesting, through a state-of-the-art XTech 10K helmet on a nearby space station. Good thing someone overheard this scream through space, right?