Why Then Do We Scream?

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

But you can feel it...

That cold pit in your chest as all the blood races to your extremities, preparing you for a fight. That shiver that radiates from your spine and raises goosebumps everywhere it touches.

A split second where everything comes into focus; as if you've been asleep at the wheel for the past ten miles and the car in front of you just blew a tire. It's a jolt of electric urgency that quickly turns into a cold chill as you realize you don't have time to avoid the inevitable crash. All you can do is slam on the brakes and steer in whichever direction causes the least harm to you and those around you.

Every night I go to bed and dream the same dream. Sometimes I'll get bits and pieces of other dreams first but it always... always ends the same way. A voiceless, noiseless face enclosed in an exosuit helmet, screaming as it floats away from the station. I'm trapped inside watching her float away.

Her face is pure horror as she realizes with stark clarity one simple and inescapable truth.

Her final moments have already begun.

I reach for her. She reaches back across the great void stretching between us. Only a few meters of nothingness in this second, but in the next, and in all those to follow? An insurmountable gulf spanning the thinnest line in the universe; that between life and death. I am rooted here on my side, and she is plummeting away from me on her side, that distance between us growing simultaneously greater and somehow closer with each passing heartbeat.

Her face says she knows that the darkness is coming for her and she no longer has a chance to escape its cold grasp.

Her face is my face, and there is nothing I can do for her. Nothing I can do except watch her fall inexorably to her doom.

She screams. An open-mouthed tidal wave of rage and panic and dread releases from her mouth in empty defiance of that cold embrace that awaits her. I cannot hear her voice, yet I feel her terror all the same. I turn and run towards the nearest airlock; thinking what, I do not know. Perhaps I will don a suit of my own and go out there and save her. Somehow, someway, there has to be a way! But I never take more than a few steps before...

I jolt upright in my bed. Gasping breaths. Sweat-stained sheets.

My heart is a raging hammer pounding against the anvil that is my ribcage, forging a blade of pure adrenaline sharp enough to cut through the macabre fog of my night terrors.

I curse and gasp and clutch my side, waiting for the pain to subside. Tears roll from my eyes, or perhaps they are just beads of the same cold sweat seeping out of my every pore and soaking my sheets.

When the shock has subsided and my heartbeat has slowed to a gallop, I at last rise to meet the new day. The harsh light of the sun travels over 92 million miles to pierce through my window and gently warm my face with her sweet caress.

Another day, another dawn, another nightmare. Same old same old.

Speaking of...

I tear off my sheets and dart to my bathroom to heave up last night's meal. I was told that soft foods like mashed potatoes, yogurts, and gelatin are the easiest to deal with when you're experiencing frequent vomiting. Personally, I am of the opinion that you should try to be nicer to your body than only feeding it bland foods, because hey, it's trying its best. But maybe don't listen to the girl who spends every morning running through this same routine (which is just super fun by the way) yet refuses to consult with her local doctor.

In my defense, the only doctor on this station is a total tool. His name is Rodrigo. No offense to any other non-tooly Rodrigos out there (is it Rodrigoes? Rodrigoi, perhaps? Anyway), this particular Rodrigo is just awful.

He likes being called Dr. Rod... so yeah. He's the worst.

With my daily bathroom trip out of the way, I step out of the bathroom massaging an ache in the center of my chest. I must have slept on it funny or something. I'm always doing that.

My pet demon (cat) looks up from his throne (cushion) and gives an inquisitive little, "Meow?" to see if I'm alright.

"Yeah, buddy. Same old same old, just a nightmare. Nothing to fuss over," I say reassuringly. Am I reassuring him or me? Not sure, but I don't like the accusatory little squint he's giving me. It's the kind that would precede the comment 'have you spoken to a doctor?' if he had human vocal cords. The little terrorist (still just a cat) flicks his tail impatiently, like a therapist clicking a pen. Lucky for me, he accepts bribes.

"Are you hungry little man? Does Mr. Frillywhiskers want some snackies?"

Mr. P. Frillywhiskers arches his back in a biiiiigg stretch and lets out a cheerful "Mrrow!" to let me know that he does in fact want some snackies.

After paying my cat (demon) his hush money in the form of the most expensive can of cat food ever, so priced not entirely for its outstanding quality but more so for the cost of launching it from Earth all the way to the ETSA space station, I slip back into the bathroom to prepare for my day.

43 minutes later I emerge, clad in my uniform and looking like I woke up on purpose, which is always a plus. I leave my little apartment and start my day with an ice-cold cup of speedy bean juice (coffee) from the cafeteria.

It is a bit of a hike from my place to the engineering department so I always try to incentivize myself with coffee in order to keep going. Getting out of bed for work? No thank you. Getting out of bed for coffee? Well, alright then! And hey, now that we've got the coffee and it's a much shorter walk, why not head over to work and see what's up? Maybe it won't be so bad. Now if only I could think of a trick like that to convince myself to go see Doctor Rodrigo... nah.

Typically, once I'm armed with my coffee my days go pretty smoothly up until I hit my daily snag. But I'm trying not to think about that just yet. Trying to stay positive. Today, however, I notice some extra tension in the shoulders of everyone I pass by. The barista barely makes eye contact as he hands me my drink. His mouth moves in the typical words, but I can tell his heart's not in it.

My eyes drift to the monitors displaying news channels from Earth and I avert my gaze instantly. At least I know what has everyone in a bad mood.

On Earth it's another day, another crisis. Or really just the same crisis continuously unfolding. Up here, it's another chance to solve problems. I try to focus on the positive. Like how good my coffee tastes. But to be honest it's not as good today.

I leave a generous tip in the coffee stall's little jar. It does little to relieve the tension in the barista's shoulders. He thanks me with his eyes, but what is a little act of kindness in the face of impending doom?

For the rest of my walk to work, I cannot help but notice echoes of that same tension in the shoulders of everyone I walk past. Things must be getting worse down there. All the more reason for us to keep working.

My boots squeak on the flooring outside the engineering department, and it takes me three tries to access the door panel before it finally decides to give a happy little chirp and let me into the engineering bay.

Today we've got three shuttles in various states of disrepair waiting in the hangar, pieces strewn about the vast rectangular space just waiting to be assembled and installed properly. A whole team of junior engineers are already hard at work on those though. As a senior engineer, I'm one of the lucky ones (so lucky). I get to go on spacewalks and check on the station's infrastructure.

To my left, Stephanie is halfway out of her bright orange exosuit, her toolbelt draped across the bench of our locker room next to her scuffed helmet. Much like the rest of the station's inhabitants, Stephanie's shoulders are set in a tense configuration. The semester I took trying to become a masseuse before the whole world shifted tells me that she's working up a trigger point in her back from the way she's carrying herself.

"How's she holding together today, Steph?" I ask, referring to the station.

Steph pauses in her attempts to shimmy out of the legs of her suit and eyes my coffee. "Same old, same old. I put in a requisition order for some spare bolts for the ventral torus. Got denied, obviously. Also, nobody believes me, but I think our dorsal gyroscope needs to be recalibrated. Every time I'm up that way I swear I miss a step and almost lose my footing. But all my requests to inspect it have been ignored."

I set my coffee down on the bench and access my locker as she speaks, pulling out my own exosuit and preparing for my shift.

"Have you tried going to the Admiral? He might be able to-"

"Ew, no. I'm not calling my dad every time I have a hard day at work."

"Okay, but Steph, he's not just your dad. He's also our boss. If something is wrong with the station it's our job to fix it. If we can't do our job, he needs to hear about it."

Stephanie gave a dismissive wave. "Why don't you talk to him, then? As for me, I'm going up there right now to see if I can expedite the process manually."

I wince. "Stephanie. The last time you tried to 'expedite the process' you sent three marines to the infirmary. Can we please just try talking to the admiral?"

She glares down at the floor for a moment before suddenly locking her sights on my beloved speedy bean juice. "If you let me have your coffee, I'll stand down until your shift is over. But I'm not talking to my father."

"Fine. Have the coffee, go take it easy. Don't break anyone's bones this time. When I punch in I'll head up and see if I can detect anything wrong with the gyro, and when I'm off my shift I'll shoot a message to the Admiral. Deal?"

Stephanie is already too busy slurping down my coffee to do more than grunt an affirmative. Smiling to myself triumphantly, for I have averted a disaster before even clocking in, I start climbing into my exosuit.

I gasp slightly at a sudden twinge of pain in my back, and Stephanie (unfortunately) notices.

Her eyes narrow. Her lips pull off the straw and smack slightly, savoring my drink as she glares at me. As only a true friend can, she manages to look concerned and angry at the same time

Somewhere in the back of my mind I hear that same little therapist-pen-click from when Desmond flicked his tail at me earlier.

"So when are you going to go see Dr. Rod?"

Damn.

"The worst Rodrigo? Never. I'm thinking I'll just call down to my family practitioner and get a prescription for some sleep meds or something. I'm not sleeping right."

Stephanie sets down my coffee, which is how I know she's serious.

"Girl, listen to me. I was on track to being an EMT before all this. Had to switch lanes when I got the call, we all did, but I learned a bit. I'm telling you, you're doing too much, you're stressing yourself out, and there's something up with your heart. If you keep running these 14 hour shifts like this I'm worried you're going to run yourself into an early grave. Please, just suck it up and go see Rodrigo."

I make a face at her and her serious mask momentarily disappears.

"Okay, okay. Poor choice of words," She admits. "I know he's the worst but isn't dealing with him for one afternoon better than suffering a fatal heart attack and dropping dead out of the blue?"

"Okay it's not that serious. I just need some better sleep. I've been having nightmares, is all."

"Yeah, I know. We all have. Last night I dreamt I was back in Spain watching my house go up in flames with my wife still inside, so believe me I can relate."

"How's she doing by the way?" I ask sneakily.

Stephanie's arms fold across her chest and I can tell she was not fooled. "She's fine. So are the kids. It was just a dream. Don't try to change the subject. I will schedule an appointment myself if I have to."

"Tell you what Steph, you like making deals so much," I motion to my half-emptied coffee pointedly, "how about this? I'll go see Rodrigo if you go talk to your dad."

Stephanie's eye twitches. "Fine."

That draws me up short. "Wait, what?"

"I said, fine. I'll shoot him a message right now." Her left eye takes on a blue glow as her smart-contact spins up.

"No, wait, Stephanie c'mon. You just said-"

"It's done. I have an appointment scheduled with him this afternoon. And! You have an appointment with Rodrigo for this evening. You should have just enough time to go home and shower after your shift, then either you walk yourself or I'll pick you up and carry you to the infirmary. One way or another, you are seeing a doctor." Stephanie picks up my coffee and slurps it cheerfully, then leaves the locker room and heads for the exit.

My protests and calls for her to 'come back here right now' fall on deaf ears.

Left with no choice, I finish suiting up, clock in, and head for the airlock in a foul mood. The audacity of our friends to care for us when we refuse to care for ourselves. Unbelievable.

It is here, standing in the airlock with the interior door closed behind me and the exterior door all that stands between me and the vacuum of space, that I hit my daily snag.

The moment I grab hold of the lever and pull myself out onto the other side of this door, I will be floating in the vast emptiness that is space. All alone. Just me and my suit and my daily tasks to keep me company.

When I was 13 I got trapped under a pile of rubble when my apartment building collapsed. I was stuck for two days before I was rescued by emergency workers. I wish I could give more details but honestly I don't remember any of that. One second I was studying for my physics exam, trying to get good grades because my parents wanted me to get a spot on the martian colony ships (that didn't pan out), when suddenly the walls started shaking. The next thing I know I'm waking up in a hospital, weeks later, and my parents are gone.

One of my therapists, I forget which one, tried to diagnose me with claustrophobia. I never really agreed with him. Truth be told if I could have had a small space where I felt safe (like my apartment on the station) I would probably never leave. It's not being trapped in small spaces that terrifies me. And it's not space either, per se.

It's being alone.

Isolated, powerless, unable to call for help. Or worse; being out of reach of anyone who wants to help you. Doesn't matter if it's trapped beneath a pile of rubble or plummeting towards the ground without a parachute. Just being in an impossible situation where help is unavailable. That's what terrifies me.

My last therapist called it agoraphobia. He was nice. I'm pretty sure he passed away a few years ago during one of the power blackouts. I miss him.

My breathing exercises help somewhat, but in the end I have to pull a trick on my brain in order to get myself moving.

I'm not leaving the station, I'm just resting my hand on the lever. It's fine.

I'm not leaving the station, we're just turning the handle. It's fine.

Just cause the door is opening doesn't mean we're going outside. We're safe.

Okay, so we're outside now, that's okay, we're just here to enjoy the scenery. Nothing bad is going to happen.

So what if we're closing the door behind us? We can always come back.

Alright, now we're outside the station. That wasn't so bad. Was it?

It was.

My heart is a caged animal, bruising my ribs as it tries to flee this terrible prison it is being forced to maintain. My hands feel numb. My face is a little cold. It's okay. This is normal. I just need to get moving and focus on my list of tasks.

My gauntleted hand comes up to tap the button in the center of my suit's harness. Three tethers launch out from my belt and their magnetic ends grapple to the station, keeping me moored in place as I start to walk. Every step one of the tethers disconnects and flings itself forward, catching onto another metal spike along the station's exterior to keep me rooted in place. Triple redundancies so I always have two points of connection to the station.

See, it's okay. Nothing can go wrong. You've done this a hundred times. Just breathe.

It usually takes me the first 6 tasks just to calm down and settle into the groove. Today it takes 9 before I'm even starting to feel alright. I think this morning was just too much. Everyone I passed was stressed, and that made me more stressed. Stephanie was pushy with the whole Rodrigo thing. Which, admittedly, she's probably right about. But still. The audacity.

At around the 3-hour mark, I have confirmed what Stephanie already reported. The ventral torus needs about 15 new bolts but otherwise, the lower end of the station is doing pretty well overall. I think there is some pipework around the botanical section that could use some repair work but I don't have the parts on me. My breathing is getting a little harder each time I look out across the vastness of space surrounding me, and the spinning that gives the station its artificial gravity is not helping. Also, I think one of the solar panels on this end of the station needs to be completely ripped out and replaced.

Those are the items I cannot get to right now so I make note of them and send a file back to the engineering bay so the junior engineers can get the parts I need ready and in place at the airlock.

With that done I start making my way up toward the top of the station.

While I'm walking past the halfway mark of the station, where most of the living areas are, my nausea is starting to act up again. I keep my eyes focused on my footing and the station, trying to ignore the spinning stars above me.

My eyes snag on a strange sight. A woman walking away from the cafeteria with a cup of coffee in her hand. Her hair is done up like mine. She's wearing a uniform with a stripe of engineering orange on the bicep.

She looks out the window panel and spots me walking. Our eyes meet.

I step past the invisible line that separates the bottom half of the station from the top, and enter the territory overseen by the dorsal gyroscope, the one Stephanie believes is misfiring. My foot comes down on nothing at all, and I slip.

My heart misses a beat and my eyes lock on those of the woman in the window. Her face is my face.

Her eyes go wide. Her coffee slips from her fingers. Her lips part and she bares her teeth in a silent scream. I cannot hear it, but I can feel the vibrations all the way out here.

Like music at a live concert, her scream shakes my very bones as I tumble free of the station.

My tethers are nowhere to be found. I am in free fall. This should not be possible. It occurs to me that it is not her scream that is shaking the inside of my suit, but my own.

Something hits me in the chest, and I'm thinking one of the magnetic grapples on my tethers just swung around and struck me. My ribs scoff at this, for if the tether thinks it can compare to my hammering heart it is going to have to try much, much harder than that.

I try to reach out and snag something, anything, to hold myself to the station, but my left arm stays limp and numb at my side as my right flails about wildly.

My breath catches in my throat as I fall away from the station, my tethers snapping around me and pulling me in three separate directions. Tears of rage or perhaps just cold sweat roll down my cold cheeks.

I scream into the ether with all the rage and defiance and frustration clogging my soul. I'm afraid that no one is listening. I am alone, drifting towards a cold abyss, and no one can hear me scream.

Why then am I bothering to cry for help? Who am I crying to, myself?

I scream because I have no other choice. Because things should have been different. Because I am overwhelmed. Because I am scared and hurt and alone and dying.

No one hears.

The face of a woman who is also somehow me darts away from the window in search of help. I know that she is already too late. She makes it three steps before...

I jolt awake. Gasping breaths, but the air comes easier. Clean sheets, unstained by my cold sweat.

I pull in a cool breath of air and glance around the infirmary. I'm wearing a medical gown instead of an exosuit.

Stephanie looks up from her chair beside me and her smart-contact blinks off. Her eyes go wide and she tugs at her father's uniform. The admiral looks up from his old-fashioned datapad, clicking it off and saying something about going to get the doctor. His eyes are kind as he gently pats my leg on his way out in a gesture of reassurance.

Stephanie crosses her arm, smirking. "Hey, girl. I told myself I was going to wait for the right moment, but I TOLD YOU SO!"

Her voice is harsh and loud, forcing me to wince. "What are you talking about? What's going on? Am I dead?" It sure felt like it.

"No. But only barely. You had a heart attack while you were out walking the station, like a dumbass. I told you to talk to Rodrigo but you just had to be stubborn. Here, I'll send you the video."

"Video of what?" I ask stupidly. I should have known. There are exterior cameras all over the station.

My smart-contact blinks with an incoming message and before I know it I am treated to a glorious 6K resolution shot of my dumbass tripping as I walked up the station, clutching my chest, and floating up, up, and away. Unlike what I experienced, however, my tethers remained connected to the ship. They locked me in place and I just sort of awkwardly bounced around for a few minutes until someone came to retrieve me and brought me to the infirmary.

"How's my favorite patient doing?" Interrupts a new voice.

Rodrigo's many sharp legs clack over the floor as he moves up to my bedside. His mandibles clack and his weird beady little bug eyes scan me up and down with that strange unreadable expression all of the Selusians have. One of his four tiny hands pulls out a child-sized medical scanner and points it towards me.

"Hmm, wonderful wonderful. It appears your body is accepting the bionic heart without incident. You should be free to return to your duties in no time. Which is excellent news for your planet, human! The Strax Imperium only accepts species that have overcome the cataclysmic stage of their evolution, and your work here is vital to the relief efforts of your world, Urd."

"It's Earth, Rodrigo."

Rodrigo's faceplates pinch together in disapproval. "Please, Urdling, you may call me Dr. Rod. I am told that affectionate nicknaming is a sign of acceptance and familiarity amongst your primate social structure. It would please me if you referred to me by my chosen moniker."

I roll my eyes and see both the Admiral and Stephanie flashing me a warning look with their eyes.

Ugh, fine.

"Thank you, Dr. Rod, both for your generous medical attention and for your species' efforts to help us restore our homeworld."

Dr. Rod clacks his mandibles together happily. "Of course my dear. If we continue to work together, your backwater planet will be up to the Imperium's standards in no time. Long live Urd!" His four tiny hands wave cheerfully and he slithers off to go check on some of his other patients.

I wait until he's out of ear-shot (or whatever Selusians use instead of ears) to whisper to Stephanie and her father.

"Those guys creep me the F out, Steph. I can't get over it. It's too many legs. We're being helped by centipedes. It's weird. Just the way his dozens of legs move across the floor gives me the heeby-jeebies."

Stephanie bites her tongue, holding back laughter. Her father on the other hand does not find it funny.

"Lieutenant Jackson, check your xenophobia. Your personal feelings cannot be allowed to endanger the mission. These 'centipedes' are our allies. If it weren't for the Selusians, Earth would have fallen apart decades ago. We must be respectful. You especially, as without Dr. Rod your heart attack would have claimed your life. Do better."

Oh joy, Stephanie's annoying habit of always being right seems to have been inherited from her father.

"Sorry, Admiral. I'm still recovering from the shock I think. I was pretty sure I was dead there."

"Very well, Lieutenant. As you were." He turns to his daughter. "If you're alright here, Bug, I'm going to head back to Command. There's been a breakthrough on the famine situation and we need to contact Mars immediately."

Stephanie thanks him and sends him on his way.

She waits until he is gone to prod my arm and start saying 'I told you so' over and over again until I cannot help but grin.

"You don't have to be so loud when you're right, Steph. Just let me breathe, okay? Wait... how is Mr. Frillywhiskers?"

Stephanie's grin falters and her eyes go wide.

"Oh my god! I forgot about your cat!"

I sit bolt upright, seething. "YOU WHAT!?"

Stephanie falls into the chair, cackling like mad. "I'm joking, doofus! He's fine! He's been staying with me and Barbara. The kids love him. They've been asking if he can stay and now I might have to ask Genetics to grow me a kitten over the next few weeks."

It takes me a while to calm down enough to talk with her about her domestic life. But it's okay now. I have the time. It's been a while since I just sat with Steph and talked with her about this sort of thing. Most of the time it's just a snippet of conversation as we pass each other on our opposite shifts. I did not even know that her eldest son was entering school already. Or that Barbara was starting a book club.

My eyes drift out the infirmary's lone window to see Earth (not Urd, Rodrigo) framed by the setting sun. Hovering in orbit around her are three other research stations and the half-built skeleton of a fourth.

The Selusian frigate Bastion of Ascendance floats a little ways further out. Earth's saviors. Looking over us from above and guiding us into a better tomorrow. It is a slow process; healing centuries of ancestral trauma. But these weird little insect dudes are in it for the long haul, and we are too.

My heart is whole again, though it looks a little different. Earth, too, is healing. Humanity is ascending to new heights, shedding the relics of her past like a snake shedding dead skin. It is no smooth process, and it is taking its toll on all of us up here trying to solve all the problems of the world without even stepping foot on its surface, but it will be worth it in the end.

I turn away from the view and refocus on my friend, sharing the details of her life with me. Gossiping. Chatting. Saying 'you are my friend and I love you' without using those words.

I relax. I am still falling. Still doomed in the same sense that we all are. But I am no longer alone. And I am content to fall gracefully, with as much kindness as I can muster, and do my best to improve the world I leave behind.

That night I sleep better than I have in months. I awaken without pain, breathing evenly, in dry sheets. The nightmare is over, and for the first time in a while, I awaken feeling like I am ready to meet my life head-on.