Leviathan

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

Abe was awoken sharply by the cold saline in his veins, and the crippling migraine of cryo sleep. The pale white lights of the cruisers sleep bay pierced his dry eyes, as he struggled to open them. Delirious - he lumbered and stumbled towards the stainless steel medical cabinet, the cryo breather still strapped to his face. In a half blind daze he ripped it off, pillaging the cabinet for any narcotic ambrosia to numb the pain.

Finally, he rummaged ahold of a hypo stem, swiftly dialing the dosage to its maximum capacity and thrusting the needle into his neck.

Suddenly, a metallic voice came over the ships intercom

"Sir, the dose you just administered will greatly affect your performance on this mission, regardless of any enhancements you may possess" alerted the AI, its voice ringing in Abe's head.

Abe could only muster a pathetic and quick thumbs up in his exhaustion.

"SITREP?" He said bracing his hands through his silver fox hair, and stretching himself out.

"Sir, On Oct.29th 2701 Terra time, you're tasked with investigating the Ten-Eleven corporation black site "Sof", which ha-"

"-Wait wait, what do you mean black site?" Abe interrupted.

"The site is only registered in a handful of documents. Most of which are private trade manifests, all funded by Ten-Eleven corp. It appears to be a singularity research facility that's gone offline. The only way of knowing it was ever there, was the periodic supply drops registered by Ten-Eleven corp."

Abe always felt off about going into black sites, too little intel, everything too hush-hush to protect whoevers special interests. He spent most of his early life as decorated trans-Terran soldier, receiving a decorated service record after helping quell the Titan moon uprising. After the Titan war of 2605, Abe would go on to do what he did best - wet work. Becoming a mercenary, selling himself and his reputation to the highest bidder, spending his days getting shot and stabbed by rogue traders, drug dealers, crime lords, diplomats, diplomats wives, diplomats body guards, and once a rather large rodent. He never chose to get that scar cleaned up, as he felt it made for a funny story if nothing else.

High and still recovering from the frozen hangover, Abe mustered his strength, taking a deep breath followed by a weary groan, he marched to the shower adjacent to the cryo bay.

"Lights!" Abe shouted though his dry voice.

"Dimming lights" the metal voice said almost softly over the intercom.

Abe begun to wash the cryo dust from his skin, scraping away at the dead skin riddling his body. In the shower he looked over the hand-full of scars that never quite healed, no matter the surgery. He touched the one that adorned under his right rib, flashing back to the boy on Titan who thrust a shiv into his ribs.

One of the few people who ever got the jump on him. One of the last.

The shiv itself was a hunk of metal, broken off from a low flying gunner ship. He remembered the spectral of the crash, and the disappointing thud it made when it hit the earth. No explosion, no roar of the failing engine, just a thud over the horizon.

Abe's reminiscing was ended abruptly by distant sound. Indescript, but loud enough to break the sound of the shower head

"Did you hear that? Did we hit something?" Abe puzzled.

"No sir, but we are approaching the site, gravity abnormality detected." replied the AI.

Abe turned off the shower, tying a towel around his waist and heading across the hall towards his living quarters.

The quarters were Spartan, and adherence from his old military days he could never break. He took little joy in having things that didn't adhere to his pragmatic life, few scholarly books from earth were stacked neatly next to the double sized bed. Authors ranging from Vladamir Nabokov to Dante. The bed remained for the odd nightly companionship he would partake in during his brief weeks ashore, that an the ability to sprawl out when he slept, were one of the few creature comforts he held onto.

Abe began to get dressed, zipping up into his wet suit before he would dawn his security armour.

"Anymore info on this place? We know why it went dark? What they were researching beyond a black hole?" he grunted squeezing into the pant legs of his suit

"Sir, Information is on a need to no basis." the AI replied.

"No shit, I need to know. How has this place not got sucked in yet? Or, how have we not been sucked in yet...and whats that sound? It sounds like... I don't know, a drum beat." Abe inquired

"Sir, the Sof station uses advanced gravitational propulsion derived from the gravity waves emitted by the singularity, allowing it to float safely in stasis. As for us, the station is emitting a hyper-lane, the same one used by the supply runners, as long as you remain in the station or the hyper-lane you are virtually immune to the pull of the singularity. Ten-Eleven Corp made a very specific note that there is minimal risk of the gravity drive failing."

"Define minimal?"

"...Three percent." Reapplied the AI.

"Three percent!?" Abe shouted, stopping his routine.

"Three percent every hour. The station is at such a distance that the gravitational waves emitted pulse every hour-possibly the drumming sound you're hearing. The gravity waves are being detected, but if its not within the ship, I cant hear it."

"Right, so every hour there's a three percent chance that the station AND US are violently ripped apart and sucked into oblivion?" Abe retorted, squeezing his head through the hole of his wet suit.

"Correct." The cold reply matching its cold metal voice.

"So why were these people risking violently being torn apart?"

"Sir, information is on a need to -"

"I know I know, what CAN you tell me?"

"Sir..." The AI paused its processes, gaining clearance to the limited files

"Sir, study of the singularity was the result of information processing. The singularity appears to collect data, anything absorbed by it is condensed and broken down into its most primordial information, beyond atoms, quarks and planks. Crushed and processed into an atomic binary code that is released by the gravity waves that can then be translated."

"What did they hear?" Abe inquired.

"....Screaming."

Abe had seen many atrocities during his time at war, and even more in the years after, but the idea of a screaming void in space unnerved even him. Abe paused for a brief moment to collect himself, taking a deep breath. "Soldier on" he told himself.

Abe got up with his wet suit, and approached the armory closet next to the living quarters.

He placed his hand on the security panel, making a low hum as it scanned his finger prints. The door opened, activating the lights and revealing the security armor. The standard issue "10-11" adorned the right pauldron, beginning to fade from the years and conflicts, fortunately the armour was more scarred than him proving its usefulness.

The armour was more of an exo-suit, providing enhanced durability, speed, strengths and providing the user with enhanced heads up display, colour coding threats and friendly targets along with AR mapping. Durable to anything short of a 51.Cal, it allows the user to become a one man tank.

Abe stepped into the suit, locking himself in. The suit riveting and drilling itself together, securing him into his war-machine.

He would emerge a towering nightmare of a figure, imposing to even the most fearsome of enemies. Clad in scarred black armour, the visor offering a cold blue glow where eyes would be.

His side-arm, a ferocious thing that can only be described as a "hand-cannon". Tri-vent exhaust helped maintain accuracy, firing .900 nitro rounds and capable of blowing a hole through anything short of a carrier class hull. Despite the suits many enhanced capabilities, prolonged firing would still wear on Abes wrist. The average man - unsuited - may break his arm entirely.

Lastly he equipped himself with his utility knife. A large quarter serated knife made of a tungsten titanum alloy, incredibly durable. One of the oldest tools ever made, and reliable as ever.

"ETA?" Abe asked?

"Seven Minutes" Informed the AI.

Abe lumbered to the cockpit of the cruiser, where he beheld through a rough approximation, Sof. A vague silhouette of a monolithic metal ziggurat, only visible by the flashing navigational lights, directing the odd ship to its nearly invisible ports. Behind it, stood the singularity, made or possibly unmade by an anomalous infinity of Stygian abyss, made viable only by the warped halo of light encompassing it with an unnatural glow, both beautiful and terrifying in equal respect.

The closer they approached, the more rapid the beats between each gravity pulse. With each pulse, Abe thought he could hear the faintest of distant whispers, flashing through his head like the briefest of migraines.

Even now, the lumbering titan that he was, he felt unerved by the whole situation.

Soldiers intuition.

He pondered quietly about what happened. He could see two supply carriers still docked in the ports. He assumed second was sent when the first didn't return. Neither came back.

Both docked, indicating they were flagged in and cleared. If everyone on the station died at the same time, they wouldn't have landed.

Abe was puzzled more and more, couldn't be oxygen deprivation, and the station was maintained enough to not fall into the black hole. All of the escape pods he could see were still docked.

He chuckled to the idea that maybe they found paradise living away from it all, picturing the whole station holding hands and singing Kumbaya.

That was highly doubtful.

"Flag for docking, see if anyone's home?" Commanded Abe to the AI

A long pause from the AI as the cruiser began to pull into the docking station, waved in by the pair of flashing runway lights.

"No response Sir, accessing security protocols and using A class credentials" informed the AI.

Finally the hull doors opened, sparks flying from the stations rolling joints. The two meter thick hunk of titanium served as a ominous form of security. Whatever workers did resided here, were not greeted warmly. The doors an ever reminder that they would be entombed in the ziggurat until they either served their tenure, or died.

Abe looked around the darkness of the docking station. Emergency power remained active. A series of red and orange warning lights pulsed rhythmically inside. No signs of life.

"Oh I do not like this...where am I going?" Abe asked.

"Sof station is set to be a workable habitat, rotating itself to give the illusion of day and night. A fully functional ecosystem, with a working economy, as vast and complex as any mega-city. Despite its complexity, it fortunately divided into tiers." Informed the AI.

"Your mission; 1.locate the data bank located in the center of the station on tier one.

2.Once the date is secured, determine if the station is viable for repurposing.

3.If the station is no longer viable, disable the gravity propulsion system, located at top of the station, tier three. The station will begin its one hour evacuation before the shutoff, hopefully providing ample time for your escape. Do you understand?"

""Hopefully" he says. How much am I being paid for this again?" Abe grimaced

"Ten-Eleven corp. has assured that as long as they exist, you'll never pay for anything ever again, no matter how long you chose to live. Securing the data bank is the highest priority. Do you understand?" The AI repeated coldly

"...Yes." He Affirmed.

"Opening Cruiser doors, coppying into suit." Stated the AI.

The doors of Abe's cruiser opened with a whistle of compressed air, he begun his march inside the docking station. Making his way to the main door, between him and the welcome hall.

Locked.

Prying his fingers under the door, he grunted as he hoist the door above his head, slamming it open.

When Abe looked into the Atrium of the welcome hall, he beheld horrors that took even his war torn breath away. Bodies mutilated and thrown about like the most violent of war zones. Many of the things now only vaguely resembled creatures of human origin, mutated beyond understanding. Multiple limbs, missing jaws, milky eyes, some no eyes at all, were some of the many horrors these once people now become. One in particular was a strange combination of hair, feathers, and tendrils combined into what can only be described as a once sentient teratoma.

Silence filled the room. Silence and the smell of iron... so much iron. Each cuatious step forward was met with the crunching of small bones, and the squishing of meat.

What heinous acts of depraved insanity could cause such a massacre he thought to himself. No brutalities of war could prepare any man for these atrocities.

Abe peered to his left at the thick windows, the anomalous halo of light breaching the room. Upon the windows it was written in the bloody entrails of one of the stations denizens

TO THE SUN TO THE SUN

Abe never considered himself a particularly religious man, not since the war. Despite this he could never fully divorce himself from his Catholic upbringing, and the idea of eternal damnation lingered ever present in the back of his mind. This station would be as close to hell as he would get while still breathing.

Quickly he felt at once, an overwhelming anxiety. Dropping to his knees, the gravity pulse filled his mind with screams and cries, baithing him in fiery anguish. Each pulse of the void would be a glimpse into a hell he so feared. Slowly he brought himself to his feet, bracing himself against a nearby bench.

"Set timer for one hour, repeat every hour." Abe ordered his AI.

Abe could see a small timer counting down from 60:00 displayed on his HUD. Abe un-holstered his cannon and chambered a round, beginning his march to the center of the infernal temple.