Look to the Stars

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

But if you could, what would it sound like? A blood-curdling yell? An anguished wail? The plaintive cry of a creature in pain, lost and alone?

Perhaps it would be best not to find out. After all, there's enough of that in everyday life, isn't there? Enough pain, enough loneliness, enough suffering. Why go looking for more of it in the vast expanse of the cosmos?

But that's just what we do, isn’t it? We humans are a curious bunch. We can't help but look up at the stars and wonder what's out there. What other lifeforms might exist? Are we alone in this universe, or are there others like us, struggling to make sense of it all?

Only time will tell. In the meantime, we can only speculate. And dream. Dream of what might be out there, waiting for us to find it.

A shrill and obnoxious wail drilled into Marnie’s brain, setting her teeth on edge. She bolted upright, groaning, and pushed herself up from her canvas sleeping mat. She staggered over to the control panel, bleary-eyed and still half-asleep. The holographic display in front of her flickered and went dark, before words flashed by one-by-one, accompanied by an unfamiliar voice: "Be advised, Space Explorer."

"What the hell?" she muttered, frowning. Did it just call me Space Explorer?

She tapped at the control panel, jamming buttons, trying to get a response from the computer. But it was no use. The message demanded her attention.

"The mysteries of the night sky have fueled storytelling since the dawn of time."

"What is going ON? " Her raised voice was absorbed into the emptiness of her living quarters, swallowed into the sleek curved edges of the carefully designed room. Was this some strange audiobook she didn't remember downloading?

"The celestial bodies above tell a tale of the past, while beckoning us to step into the future."

Was this malware infecting her machine? Or worse—was she going insane? Sleep deprivation could do funny things to a person, she knew that all too well.

"What might that future hold? Commercial space travel? First contact with alien life forms? Technological advancements that extend the human lifespan to 500 years?"

It had to be a cruel prank set in place by one of the other recruits. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been the butt of their jokes.

The tone of the recording was low. Masculine. She would’ve called it male, but something about it was unnatural, mystifying.

"The sky's the limit—or should we say, the galaxy's edge?"

She felt the voice deep inside her—it inched up her spine, vertebrae by vertebrae. She shivered. It probed at the base of her skull, yet somehow it didn’t feel cold or intrusive. Rather, it was warm and inviting.

"Good luck out there. See you on the other side of the universe." And with that, the message ended.

She opened her eyes, just in time for a giant fluorescent light to erupt from overhead, bathing the room in a harsh, artificial glow.

The room tilted and span. She shook her head, trying to clear it, but it only made her feel further off-kilter. She gripped the edge of the control panel, eyes screwed shut.

She cursed under her breath and shielded her eyes. The light was so bright it was almost painful, and she had to squint to keep from being blinded as it flickered violently.

And then she felt it. A rumble in the floor, followed by a sharp jolt that threw her off balance. She yelped and grabbed tight to the console to steady herself. The room began to shake. She could hear a loud roaring noise coming from somewhere nearby. It sounded like... an engine?

No, that was impossible. The space station was still under construction on the other side of the encampment. The noise grew louder and more insistent, the floor beneath her vibrating. It was definitely an engine. And it was getting closer.

Marnie felt her way across to the door, steadying herself against the wall. Her fingers pulled at the cover on the control panel, tapping out the code that would open it. A red light flashed three times.

She shrieked and pounded on the panel, but it was no use. There was no way to override it, not from inside. She was trapped.

She felt her panic rising, sharp and acidic. She had to stay calm. There had to be a way out of this. Think, think! She raked a hand through her hair, gripping the nape of her neck.

The room was now shaking so violently she was having trouble standing up. She grasped onto the groove in the wall with one hand, trying to steady herself. She reached for the control panel again, fingers trembling, slippery against the sleek panel. Three red flashes and the door remained sealed.

The whining whir had reached a deafening level now, and she lost her footing. She stumbled backwards falling to the floor, just as the light itself seemed to burst open, tearing a hole in the… air?

Something large and metal came hurtling into the room. It slammed into the wall opposite her with a deafening crash.

She was face-to-face with a giant robot. And it looked pissed.

The head swiveled towards her, red glowing eyes boring into hers. It raised one massive arm, and she threw an arm up to protect herself. There was a loud screeching noise as it ripped the door clean off its hinges. A rush of cold air wrapped around her, seeping through her regulation jumpsuit and into her bones. The back of her neck was cold and clammy.

The robot turned to look at her again, its pulsing ruby eyes holding her gaze. It wanted her to follow. She was sure of it, though no words came from its metallic mouth.

“If you wanted to kill me, you would have.” ...Right?

Her heart pounded violently in her chest. “What do you want then?”

The robot extended its metal fingers to her, and she hesitated for only a moment before she wrapped her own around them. It pulled her to her feet and into its arms, and though she was colder than before, she couldn't help but feel a little bit safer.

The robot pushed through the gaping hole in the wall, away from the safety of the space station, and began to run. Wrapped in its cold embrace, the white, domed buildings of the compound whizzed past. She craned her neck over the robot’s shoulder, watching the space station growing smaller and smaller, till it was nothing but a dot in the distance.

There was a sudden explosion. She cowered in the robot’s arms as rockets slammed into the barracks, turning them into a massive fireball. The space station was under attack, the command center already in flames. She could see a mushroom cloud hovering above the building she was in just a moment ago. A hot wind blew smoke and ash into her face, stinging her eyes.

“Who’s doing this?” she cried, her voice hoarse. But she received no reply.

They were at a safe distance now. The robot gently set her down, turning to face her. She could feel its resolve despite its obscured expression.

It was time to go.

The robot stepped back and extended its arms. There was a whirring sound as hidden gears pulled them tight into its torso, knees bending, flat to the ground as if in child’s pose. The knees inched up and backwards at an impossible angle and she realized she wasn’t looking at legs, they were engines. The head pulled under itself, and a panel in its upper back opened up, revealing a cockpit. She couldn’t help but gawk as it transformed in front of her. It was a ship, sleek, shaped like an arrowhead. She could feel the power emanating from it as its engines growled and glowed.

She gasped as another explosion in the distance shook the ground, tremors reverberating through her, and she quickly climbed aboard.

The hatch-door closed, sealing her inside. She felt a subtle rumble of engines as the robot-turned-ship began its take-off procedures. The control panel in front of her, an impossible jumble of buttons and switches, flashed and clicked in a rapid sequence, and she felt the faint burst of a thruster, pushing her back into the seat she had strapped herself into as the pressure shifted. With the roaring of the ship in her ears, they were off—hurtling through the stratosphere, into the vast unknown of space. Far away from the destruction below, the only place she’s ever called home.

The one thing she was sure of? The robot had saved her life.

And all she could do—was look to the stars.