When the Daithes Come Calling

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

The truth of the matter? That “vacuum” is really an echo chamber. And once you hear the screams, they never stop.

***

“Do you see anything?” Slayton’s voice shook as her eyes darted around within her helmet, her anxious breath fogging up her visor. Her fingers drummed against her laser rod, adjusting and readjusting her grip.

“Negative.” Verner’s voice crackled through her earpiece. Slayton nodded even though she knew he couldn’t see her.

The two were back-to-back, crunching quietly against the icy debris that covered the surface of Platonia-X34.The darkness that enveloped the two was bitter and nearly impenetrable; if not for their night visors, there would be no possible mode of safe movement. Even with their night visor, everything was blurred - that’s all they needed anyway. Brigadier Wyse claimed that the Daithes weren’t fast, but they were silent; a blur of movement would be enough to fend off the creatures either through death or laser-shock. Slayton was hoping for the latter. Laser-shock was far less messy.

“You know it’s a good thing, right?” Verner’s crackling voice pulled Slayton from the cloud of panic that dominated her brain as they continued their perimeter around P-X34’s command station. “Being chosen by Brigadier Wyse? It means he sees potential in you.”

Slayton considered the words of her partner. Sure, some truth rang in the statements, but it didn’t feel like he saw potential. It felt like he sought punishment.

“Brigadier Wyse doesn’t see potential in me,” she responded, mimicking Verner’s emphasis on the word. “This is a test. I’m being tested.”

“Right. You’re being tested. Because he sees leadership potential in you.” Verner’s voice betrayed the smirk on his face as they continued to battle about her prospects in the command.

As the two continued their back-to-back waltz around base, they rounded on the viewing deck of P-X34. Fellow inhabitants of the command crowded around telescopes, gazing toward other distant stars, laughing into the darkness. Their upward gazes were oblivious to Captain Laucke and Major Harcrowe’s presence on the other side of the pressure-resistant plexiglass that kept them protected in their little observational bubble. As Slayton watched, she noted that the viewing deck of P-X34 was colder than usual, the condensed breath of its occupants hanging in the air for a few moments before finally ascending toward the pressurizer to be sucked up, sanitized, and re-circulated through the metal base they’d all come to call home.

Time on P-X34 was something that hadn’t quite been settled yet, though they’d colonized the asteroid nearly six years prior. Too far from the sun to experience a rising and setting, they had tried to keep the typical 24-hour set up that they’d grown accustomed to pre-flight, but it began to fall apart after the first few weeks on PX34. Instead of trying to stay on some semblance of a system that made sense, the PXers decided to monitor time in frames of ‘eras’ which – to Slayton’s calculations – worked out to be approximately a fortnight in Earthling equivalent.

It had been during the last Era’s End that Slayton had found herself destroyed by a terrestrial power so gripping, she could hardly explain it. There were rumors of the ghastly beasts that roamed P-X34’s cold, icy landscape, but nobody she knew - herself included - had ever actually witnessed one. Often, she wondered if the Daithes were a reality or simply a myth concocted to keep the humans inhabiting P-X34 in line; prevent them from wandering so far from base that they get lost…frozen to death.

Every Era’s End, there was a mandatory shift for Captains on the viewing deck of P-X34. It had been her rotation, but Slayton hadn’t made it more than three minutes on the clock when she’d collapsed on site. The medics said she suffered some sort of nervous break brought on by the isolation of the past six years and the lack of appropriate sunshine and fresh oxygen, but Slayton knew that what she was actually suffering was a psychic warning from the Daithes – a vision of mass destruction unlike anything the humans who colonized this tiny asteroid had ever experienced before. Blood, rivers of blood, death, destruction…and those left behind would only be allowed to live to serve as a warning to future generations of earthlings who desired to conquer other stellar bodies. Slayton’s Era’s End rotation culminated in a confirmation of their existence in a way she could never verbalize.

Slayton swallowed down a lump of anxiety and cleared her throat, “Or I’m being punished for abandoning my shift last Era’s End. I swear I saw–”

“I know what you say you saw, Slayton,” Verner’s voice bristled. “This isn’t punishment for that.”

Slayton sealed her mouth shut against the retorts building in her throat and instead opted to breathe into her comm, “I just wish someone would believe me.”

“I do believe you, Slayton,” Verner muttered just as quietly into his comm, his words crackled and disjointed in Slayton’s receiver. “It just isn’t that simple.”

The two fell into silence, continuing their trek around the base, laser rods at the ready, the sound of each other’s breathing fizzling into their receivers. The feel of icy gravel crackled beneath their feet.

By Slayton’s calculations, it had been about 6 years and 2 months since settling down on P-X34, and even though she was among the ranks of those protecting P-X34, the information given to her was on a need-to-know basis.

The things she needed to know:

1. They were the ninth colony to be sent out from Earth in an attempt to find a secondary home to their ever-dying and mostly-barren planet.
2. If Platonia X-34 were to fail, mankind would be doomed to a slow starvation, expiring alongside the planet it called home.
3. Under no circumstances were children on the base to be left alone; if they were spotted alone, authorities needed to be called and their parents located to ensure the safety of the colony.
4. Nobody was allowed beyond the airlock if they weren’t certified, classified, and suited up.
5. The native inhabitants of Platonia-X34 were in no way accepting of their settlement on the planet.

The things she did not need to know (or at least wasn’t given the answers to):

1. How was gravity simulated on Platonia-X34? Was it simulated or was it natural?
2. What would be the determination of whether or not Platonia-X34 was a failed mission in habitation?
3. If it was a failed mission, would they return to their home planet? Or would they be doomed to live out the rest of their existence on the icy surface of Platonia-X34?
4. If the Daithes were so dangerous, why weren’t they armed with more than a laser rod and a hunting knife?
5. What, exactly, did a Daithe look like?

A shrill tone reverberated through Slayton’s helmet, jolting her from her reveries. Flinching and blinking, she realized that Major Verner Harcrowe stood in front of her, a look of deep concern on his face. His eyes searched hers and what she now understood to have been a whistle was replaced by a voice edged in panic.

“Captain Laucke. Are you with me?”

“Yes, I’m with you,” Slayton scoffed, brow furrowed. “Sorry, I was just thinking. My mind wandered.”

Verner nodded slowly, his breathing exaggerated as he worked to calm himself.

“I was worried you were having another…break.”

Something about the tone in his voice made Slayton’s blood boil, as if he thought she was fragile and on the verge of collapse at any moment. Her eyes rolled and she gritted out, “No, Major Harcrowe. I wasn’t having another break. No psychic medium has overcome me. I was simply thinking about our settlement and what life is like here. I got lost in my thoughts.”

Verner stared at her for a long time, as if assessing the woman who stood before him. Slayton knew that when they got home later, she’d be hearing about how she jeopardized their safety by being absent minded. That they could have died because of her carelessness. Lecturing her like a subordinate or a child, rather than his girlfriend and colleague. Her eyebrows raised and her lips pursed, eyes widening in defiance the longer he evaluated her.

“You were saying…?” She probably should have lost the attitude in her voice. They were on the clock and being insubordinate to her superior was not recommended. Even if they were complete equals off the clock.

“We should split up. I’ll head east around the station and you head west. We’ll meet back up at our starting point and debrief.” His tone was formal, distant. Slayton nodded.

“Affirmative, Major Harcrowe.” She gave a slight nod and turned on one heel, heading back the way they’d come. “I got your six.”

A chuckle whispered through the comm as Verner turned and walked in the opposite direction, “And I’ve got yours, Slayton.” The tenderness in her name told her that she was forgiven of her absent minded behavior for now. He was really good at putting aside personal feelings and offenses when on duty. It was something she admired about him. With a deep breath, she let go of her frustrations and trudged forward.

***

Halfway to the point of return, Slayton checked her bearings and commed Verner, “Major Harcrowe, this is Captain Laucke. I’m about halfway to our rallying point; can you confirm your location?”

Continuing forward, Slayton holstered her laser-rod. She’d spent the entire trip gripping the handle as if it were her only lifeline, but things were as quiet as they always were. There was no need to carry a weapon that probably wouldn’t do much anyway. Brigadier Wyse stood firm that laser-shock - stunning and blinding a Daithe into immobility - was the best way to escape a Daithe attack. She didn’t know how much she believed this rationale, as nobody knew what a Daithe looked like, but she wasn’t one to question her superiors.

After minutes of silence, Slayton spoke into her comm again, “Major Harcrowe, do you copy?”

The skin on the back of her neck began to tingle; a dull, pulsing pain began to throb behind her eye. “Verner?” she whispered, her mouth impossibly dry.

“Yeah, I…I…copy. I got…your…six.”

Verner’s response was slow as it cracked into Slayton’s ears. The slight slur, the touch of confusion in his words sent her heart racing. “Verner…I need your location to verify that we are keeping pace for our rally point. Please share your coordinates.” Her mouth felt like cotton as she forced a swallow, a sorry attempt at pushing her anxiety down. The action did little to help; the tingling on her neck, the cold sweat growing like a film over her body, the dull, pulsing pain throbbing behind her eyes only intensified.

Slayton leaned against the exterior of the command station, squeezing her eyes shut hard. She blinked rapidly, alternating between a few quick blinks and a hard blink, trying to clear the pain growing in her head. She slid down, her body crouched in an upright fetal position. Her head fell forward, helmet visor slamming against her knees as her chest tightened.

Just as it happened last Era’s End, Slayton found herself incapable of getting a full breath into her lungs. Her heart beat so quickly she thought it would explode and the throbbing turned into a pain so shrill and piercing, she growled deep in her chest. A high-pitched tone overtook her senses. Her eyes watered, her teeth vibrated in her skull, and Slayton was certain that her ears would soon begin to bleed.

“He has your six, but you never had his,” a voice slithered into her brain, weaving itself with the tone reverberating through her skull. “Remember what we showed you, Slayton Laucke. Time is ticking. Time is up. Time is broken. Blood is coming. Blood will run like rivers. Sanguine, sticky, warm.”

“No,” Slayton muttered, shaking her head against the voices and the tones weaving in and out of her brain, consuming her existence. “No, no, no, no, no…”

“Yes,” the voice multiplied, becoming a symphony of slithering voices edged with amusement. “You cannot stop this. You never could. We showed you what would come for you. You allowed yourself to be silenced in the face of the oppressor. In the face of our oppressor.”

Squinting against the mental barrage, Slayton unfolded herself and leaned onto her hands and knees. She cowered, but crawled forward toward the rally point. Her eyes steamed tears, her nose dribbled snot, and she wheezed against the effort of moving forward. Always forward.

“We gave you a chance. But you Earthlings always think you know better. You always think you are better. You come to our foreign bodies determined to take what was never yours and conquer it. No regard for the beings already here. For the lives and colonies already. here.”

As the voices continued berating Slayton, images flashed against the back of her eyelids again. She peeled them back only to find that her vision was overtaken by them. Blood. Broken bodies. Scattered bones. The only indication that she was still on Platonia-X34 came from the feeling of the icy ground crackling beneath her as she continued her crawl forward.

“You fragile humans. Fragile beings. So afraid of being oppressed that you insist on oppressing others.” The voices split; half cackled at the inanity of mankind, the other half continued the diatribe. And still that tone remained constant, their words wove and blended, ebbed and flowed with the piercing in her brain. “So afraid of your world being destroyed that you insist on destroying others. Misery loves company…but what happens when the only company you have is yourself?”

“No, no, no, no…” the repetition was the only thing keeping her grounded. Still, the images flashed. Still, she crawled forward. Still she was blinded.

“You’ve been warned, Slayton Laucke. Captain of Platonia-X34. Underling of Brigadier Wyse. Grieving lover of Major Harcrowe.” Slowly, the piercing tone began to dissipate and the tingling in her neck eased. Slayton felt relief from the throbbing in her brain as the voice slowly faded from existence. “You could have stopped this if only you tried…”

Silence rang through Slayton’s system and she collapsed to the ground, heaving deep, rasping breaths into her lungs. Her body shuddered against cries she hadn’t realized were ripping through her chest. Blubbering and sniffling, she gradually opened her eyes in an attempt to take in the world around her. Tears blurred her sight, her eyes swollen and raw. She blinked against the dry ache that always lingered after a long cry.

As if pulled from underwater, Slayton’s brain quickly registered another voice in her head, though this one came from her earpiece. It took a moment, but she was able to hone in on the crackling voice.

“...hear me? Captain Laucke! Do you hear me?”

She felt more than heard the accompanying boot-falls that thundered toward her rapidly. Firm hands grasped her shoulders and tossed her onto her back. Slayton’s blue eyes locked onto Verner’s hazel ones as he crouched over her and searched her face for answers that she didn’t know how to give.

“Where am I?” Slayton forced out her sandpaper throat.

Panic flashed over Verner’s face, “You’re on Platonia-X34, an asteroid commandeered and colonized by the Ninth Division of Operation New Hope led by Brigadier Wyse. You are Captain Slayton Laucke, year 7 of service. You report to me, Major Verner Harcrowe, and–”

Slayton shook her head. “No, on rotation,” she rasped out. “Where am I?”

“Just outside the airlock.”

“It happened again,” Slayton forced herself into the sitting position. Her head swam and she felt like she was one swift movement away from vomiting all over the inside of her helmet. “The…the visions,” she felt her bones begin to vibrate beneath her skin, anxiety starting to take root in her system again. “The blood. The voices. It happened again.”

Verner reared back on his haunches, his expression as if he had been smacked. “Captain Laucke…Slayton…I don’t think now is the be–”

“There is no best time. The Daithes are coming. For me. For you. For all of us,” Slayton’s words began spilling out of her mouth as quickly as she was capable. She knew she needed to get it out before she was silenced again, forced into believing she had experienced another break. What was it the Daithes had wormed into her mind? Being silenced by the oppressor? “They’re not going to stop until we are all gone. Until the surface of this asteroid is covered in frozen blood, rather than ice. I need you to hear me! I need you to believe me! I need you to fi–”

“I hear you. I hear you,” Verner’s words were clipped as he rose to standing, cautiously pulling Slayton to her feet beside him. He held her steady until she had her bearings. She nodded that she was good and followed after him slowly to the airlock. “We will figure this out, Slayton,” his voice sputtered into her earpiece. “But I think we need to get you checked out first.”

Slayton clamped her mouth shut, staring ahead as Verner removed his glove and placed his palm against a biometric scanner for entry. She wanted to fight to be heard. She needed to be heard, but if Verner wasn’t going to listen, she needed to find someone who would.

Stepping inside the airlock, Slayton reached up and released her helmet. She lifted it from her head as icy air crept up and ran its fingers down her face in a caress. Brow furrowed, she whipped her head around to see where the chill was coming from. Her eyes locked onto Verner’s as he lifted his own helmet from his head. Confusion crossed his eyes for just an instant before he was sucked out of the airlock and obliterated. Slayton lunged after him, her need for oxygen forgotten as she tried to throw herself out of the airlock after him.

Slayton remembered when she was a child on Earth, they talked in science class about “spaghettification”. Their teachers told them that being spaghettified meant stretching and spiraling until snapping in half at the waist and dying from the tidal forces tugging on your body. The children’s lore told a different story: you would be sucked through a point in time and space that was like a fine cheese grater. Your entire existence would be grated and you would float through space as a cold, dead pile of human flesh and bone spaghetti. When people would leave for missions to find a new planet and never return, the children were all convinced that another plate of human spaghetti had been served cold to the stellar space that would devour them.

The lore of spaghettification that haunted Earth children was the closest thing that Slayton could compare to the sight before her.

Verner’s scream was bloodcurdling. It was the sound of death and the destruction of existence. Yanked backward, he’d attempted to grab onto the metal frame of the airlock door, but the speed at which he was moving only resulted in his fingers being severed from his person. Blood spurted from the appendages as they twitched on the ground. Slayton stood, frozen to the spot a mere foot away as she witnessed Verner get shredded to a pulp, grated through an invisible, fine cheese grater. His scream didn’t stop until he was gone; his blood spurting and misting, freezing on contact with the frigid air of Platonia-X34. Frozen blood hailed down, painful pebbles striking Slayton in the face and melting on contact with her flesh. Verner’s blood dripped down her brow, running into her eyes.

“We told you,” a voice trickled into her mind. “Blood will run, and it won’t be ours. Major Harcrowe was only the beginning. Nobody is safe from the Daithes.”

The airlock slammed shut, a metallic boom reverberating through the chamber. Slayton gritted her teeth. Rage seeped into her bones and her heart hardened in a way she’d never experienced.

Turning on her heel, Slayton set her jaw and began her march toward Brigadier Wyse’s command module. That man didn’t know what he was talking about and Slayton would be damned if she allowed Verner to die in vain.

They say that nobody could hear a scream in the vacuum of space.

Whoever said that never had the misfortune of witnessing total human obliteration within that so-called vacuum.

Space wasn’t a vacuum.

Space was an echo chamber.

And once the screams were heard, they’d never, ever stop.