This is a break from the music side of things for me, but still in the creative space. I do write fiction occasionally and prefer short stories since I have a short attention span. Here’s one that I worked on and completed this weekend. I’m sure there is editing that needs to be done, but I don’t have time for that (unless someone wants to pay me to publish…not counting on it). I’m calling it The Derelict.
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The audio message terminated abruptly. There was the distinct sound of ripping flesh from bone before the end and the captain’s frenzied voice cut short with a scream that raised the hairs of those present – hardened veterans and aged politicians alike. At first there was nothing to say, questions abounded in the minds of those men, but soon a General spoke about a rescue mission to investigate the mystery and look for survivors. They all agreed, unanimous, hurried and without question. It must be solved.
For so long they were alone, sending ships in all directions from this once blue planet, now darkened by the perpetual innovation of its inhabitants. They sought for an answer beyond those found within the once vibrant and life-giving atmosphere, but no answer came. No life in the great beyond but what traveled within the metal hulls and bulkheads of the hulking utilities once called “space ships” now serving another purpose. “Hope ships” they may have been called, yet they were not harbingers of hope, but of despair. Silent, they would return with exhausted crew, blank in their eyes, pale in their skin, atrophied in their bodies and mind. Thinner and thinner they became and would return to their home, not beloved, but despised and hated, and would be witness to the decreasing diet of her citizen’s intellectual appetites. Stripped bare of all that might carry on the trinity of mind, body and spirit, to enrich and nourish the soul, sharpen the razor’s edge until one’s dying, or fading day. None of this, of course, occurred to them. It was merely a hateful life, full of answers, but absent of questions.
Madness, perhaps it was. Yet, they knew not the difference between madness and reason, nor could detect when the latter had become the former – and what a fine line it truly was. “No mystery!” was the undying cry of generation upon generation. To discover the tightly held secrets of the little seen world – to find her and rape her. But the secrets so earnestly sought were not as forthcoming as these people thought and the answer for their desperate lives alluded them, even though in truth, it did not. Instead, was satirized, dismissed and ignored to the point of receding into the obscurity of history, and content to watch as the crazed gutted themselves and wrapped their intestines around their children’s throats, who would watch and nod in approval and, in perfect reason, perpetuate the bloodshot focus to the empty sky.
No mystery became the great mystery of the generations. But here was an answer of a sort. “Let us not jump to conclusions my dear fellow citizens” was the hue and cry from the halls of power, and soon after their heroes were selected, they set off on the great adventure where answers for all were promised in abundance. “What awaits us in this exciting new frontier shall illuminate our sky, invigorate our earth, renew our sun…” and so-on until everyone’s imaginations ran wild with hyperbole that the blood curdling screams were forgotten in a matter of days.
Scientists and military men together, bound in destiny and purpose, to bring back that misunderstood thing and make it speak intelligible words. There were items of antiquity thought to be of universal understanding – sculptures, art, music and holos of the pyramids and wonders of ancient man. Mathematical equations from every age, the periodic table, and geometrical proofs. Poetry, novels and sacred texts in every language. It would see these things and understand their mind.
As the day grew closer, anticipation and anxiety increased exponentially to an audible degree. Whispers of “What do you suppose…” and “I hope we find…” and “Will there be survivors…” could be heard scattered amidst the echoing metal corridors. This culminated in one exchange during a particularly busy hour in the mess hall from a Sgt. Major, a veteran with a leathery face and smartly combed white hair and a snarl at the edge of his lips. He pointed sharply at a young soldier in front of him, and raised his voice so all could hear and for a moment all action ceased in the mess as he spoke “I tell ye this, and ye cannut see with tha inner-eye, because ye have not, but I’ve remembered mine. We’ve been all along deceived and here on an errand o’ self-pity we’ve signed our own death warrant in blood from our heart. How far along are we? Suppose we arrive at yonder derelict and be found at a loss, what would ye say then, ye young fools? And in the midst of our questionin’, there rise up in us such a profound fear that cannot be explained away and we are too lost to the void hence? Torn, limb from limb – for that’s what transpired. I’ll wager you’ll not see yer fam’lies again, nor mine. And we enter that forbidden space, for we have traveled too far for not a good reason, there’ll be a devil waitin’ for us and not a one ye can take aim at, nor be poked and prodded, nor one who travles the netherworld with horns and pitchfork, but a devil who’ll not be understood, and who’ll make yer guts turn and eyes bulge and teeth grit so hard they burst outta yer mouth. He’ll enter ye and ravish yer body and soul like a frenzied animal. What will ye do then, ye arrogant bastards? Call on yer reason or passion ta save ye and hear his inaudible laugh as his pleasure he finds at yer flesh’s expense, for his stomach’s an abyss and he’s been a’waitin’ our arrival with the patience of a dyin’ sun. And ye can be sure he waits, and hasn’t yet finished pickin’ the bones from between his teeth. He waits and he’s got the permission of God to be loosed on us like a solar storm. Our flesh’ll melt and heaven’s closed to us. What a pitiful lot we are and ye can take that ta yer men, and ta yer grave.”
The Sgt. Major sat back down and resumed his meal, his fury subsided and soon all was as it had been. Space psychosis was common among the elder travelers of that age, or so they reasoned to within an acceptable degree of probability. There was naught else to explain it. To be sure, devils there were none on these infinite plains of space and time, and soon the anxiety turned to excitement as the day approached when the derelict would be within the range of their scopes, if derelict their was – and all aboard closed tight their eyes and clenched their fists and exerted their power of will on the realization of that dream. The mystery was soon to be discovered and brought into idolatrous illumination.
It was two years almost to the day when the intercom snapped all eyes and ears to attention: Now hear this, now hear this: freighter detected at 213.501, sector 6. All SU’s ordered to delivery pods; all science personnel to bio-hazard, research and medical stations; yellow-alert is hereby in effect. The following protocols are also hereby in effect: First Response, HAZMAT, Priority Level 1 Security at critical pressure areas, Priority Level 2 Security at Bio Filtering Stations, Priority Level 1 security at main engineering and primary engine relay areas, Primary Sensor Array Alpha and Delta and Secondary Sensor Array Beta and Kappa to be directed to the aforementioned coordinates in extended sweep pattern. This is not a drill. This is not a drill. All protocols and yellow-alert will remain in effect until directed. All standard protocols not overridden will remain in effect until otherwise directed. This is not a drill.
It occurred with the efficiency common to those special groups, trained day and night and conditioned to be at one’s peak. There was the ordered scuttling about, and in minutes all was ready. The great ship and once freighter connected, the pressure chamber’s doors hissed with release and the Sgt. Major lead his team into the pitch blackness of a heap 4 years adrift. There was naught to smell or see or to settle or disturb ones spirits, only the dark and the sound of ones own breath in the enviro-suit, the outline of comrades in the holo-HUD of the helmet’s visor, and the communication from the Sgt. Major, who for this particular operation, decided to take point. He lead with the operational efficiency of one who has seen many similar situations, and knew his way somehow between the maze of corridors, hallways and junctions all the way to main engineering. The aft of the ship was swept and cleared and soon PFC Taverney was on the panel looking for a bypass to auxiliary power: a wire cut here, re-wired there, a button pressed, another and another, and like the dawn of day red light proceeded forth into their vision.
It was perhaps better to be in the dark. All at once a gasp escaped the lungs of those warriors, for what lay before them could hardly be comprehended, or was more appropriate for those fringes of reckoning and imagination, where one dare not tarry long. Bodies of the crew, grotesque, twisted, with mouths agape and eyes wide and horror struck. They’d been carved into, gutted and bent into an impossible number of directions, chewed on and sodomized and torn apart.
The Sgt. Major’s snarl remained and his face was as leathery as ever “And here’s what I seen, what I told ye boys. Keep yer heads and yer hearts, what’s left of ‘em.” And before he could continue one of those dismembered souls looked up and opened his mouth with no tongue and mumbled aloud something akin to a moan. It blinked frantically like it would somehow bring moisture back to its dry eyes and its eyeballs darted around and seeing the soldiers its moan turned to a wail and from a wail to a scream. Its shredded arm outstretched with bone a sinew exposed and only two fingers at the end and it grabbed for the pant legs of PFC Taverney, who recoiled in terror as he watched the live thing start to claw and scream its way towards him with its eyes ever on him and a look of pleading desperation therein. “Get it off…” but before he could finish, the Sgt. Major had exploded the head and it now lay twitching as if living nerves were still connected to its dead limbs, for dead it was.
“Now ye men take heart to what I say ta ye, ’cause here we have a dealin’ with a thing I know naught of, but in my nightmares. And before another one of these unrestful, decimated bastards takes to a’moanin’ and a’wailin’ we have but a singular task. It is to the bridge with us, so put yer cryin’ and bitchin’ behind ye, unless ye find bein’ on the wrong side of an airlock an appealin’ thought. I resigned myself to the task hence, and I can say that I warned ye, but I will’na, even though I did.”
And to the bridge the group ventured, over much of the same, for the entire crew had met a similar end. There would be an occasional wail and scream and more often than not a stray limb would find the pant leg of a soldier, to which it would tug and grab and try to climb on the body of the poor boy who would cry out in terror for the Sgt. Major to save him. The old man would do so with an unblinking eye and without breaking stride, and then the group would be on again in their formation.
As they closed in on their destination the body-count increased, and the corridors became congested as if the pathway to the bridge was the focal point of the carnage. Soon, the men had to relegate themselves to stepping not over, but on the remains of their once comrades. The Sgt. Major was surgical with his removal of those that he expected would animate at the sight of their presence and fleshy matter splattered the visors of all in line so that the best one could hope for was a view through the red and black smudges. Navigation by HUD alone became a necessity and before long they were peering up at the emergency blast doors which had been secured by the computer at the first hint of imminent danger, to safe-guard captain and his officers in the hopes of maintaining some operation of their vessel.
PFC Taverney set about on the external panel and the others watched the six o’clock for movement, ready at any moment to imitate their leader’s resolve towards the once living things. “The cabin is pressurized, sir” came the private’s response after a minute of re-routing auxiliary power to the panel. “Breathable atmosphere and full power…just came on it looks like.”
“Here we find ourselves at the edge of the horizon.” Said the Sgt. Major. He proceeded to give the order to enter the bridge when from within the blast doors a chorus of voices arose such that could only be described as being the result of profound agony and pain. There were intelligible voices that could be heard above the dozen or so screaming men and women, begging for the mercy of their captor only to be cut short and silenced while the remaining would increase the intensity of their pleas to no avail.
PFC Taverney hesitated, the Sgt. Major took the action and the antechamber hissed as pressurized air escaped. Soon they were all inside and the massive door closed behind them as the chamber repressurized. The screaming continued. “What could it be?” One soldier asked. “I told ye what.” Replied the Sgt. Major and the young man’s disbelief still remained palpable on his face. “There’s no such thing as devils!” Another said. “That’s where yer wrong, boy.” The Sgt. Major said, “They’ve sought to discard him yet here before us he will be and our fate is but a sure thing.” One of the soldiers started to weep while another exclaimed the priority of escape. The Sgt. Major looked on towards the door that would open momentarily, “We are all lost to that stomach untamed by the chest. We have but our eyes and our stomachs and the devil which awaits us at the end in whose image we have shaped our appetites. Fer me, I would lay eyes on the one whom we have sought so hard after. Ye boys remember when hither we enter, what we look on is as much ourselves as a devil it be.”
The blast door’s locks were heard being released from their housing and all at once the commotion within ceased and all was as quiet as it had been. When the Sgt. Major stepped forth through the threshold and onto the main bridge he thought his eyes deceived him, for there was merely those implements and furnishing common to the control room of space-faring vessels. No bodies, no men, no devil. The Sgt. Major dropped his firearm and removed his helmet and for the first time smelled the stink of the stale air. “Ye can show yer ugly self, fer I’ve been a’waiting with anticipation this meetin’ and I’ve had it in my mind you’d ravish me as well as the others, though I’d thought to kill myself before the end, but now know what little good that’d do me.”
“There is a wise man among the jesters?” Came the response and the Sgt. Major could see at the far end of the room an area where no light escaped and seemed to be continually drawn into profound blackness.
“I’ve no doubt that ye can see that I am neither wise, nor a jester, but a man born in inopportunity.”
“And for that you feel you should be spared?”
The Sgt. Major scoffed, “If that were to be I’d beg for yer mercy like the other wailing fools you’d swallowed. I merely ask to see the ancient thing which has us so in a bind of mind and soul and heart.”
“Here before you.” Said he.
“Indeed. And a question.”
“Granted.”
“Pray tell, devil of devils, what action shall ye take upon thyself when come to the end? Fer no life have we found among these wanting wastelands and in all our pursuits have found a dried well instead of a fountain and a corpse instead of a perpetual living thing. Yet you seem to be one, while not being. Alive and dead, fer you have no satisfaction but to consume us and when you have finished picking the flesh off of the last remaining one, whence shall ye travel?”
“You have no contemplation of the eternity which lay before you and your people, old man. For I shall remain, and you beside me, and all whom have followed hard after me and my likeness. But as for me, I have only hatred for all living things and those dead things of which I am permitted have no breath to ease the burning in my eyes, or the pounding of drums in my ears, or to drop a bit of water on my dry tongue, or can remove the heel from the top of my head. You have born witness not to the pleasure I take, but the contempt that arouses in me the impulse to devour and the more that I devour the more that I hate. It is not satisfaction that I seek here by tearing apart flesh and soul. I do not seek anything, I do not ask questions that do not proceed from my own mind, nor desire any answer but my own. And thus, the answer to your question cannot be expressed, for it is born out of an ignorance of history. Weep for your generation, Sgt. Major, for they have been the least privy to that truth than all others prior, and I shall see every one before the end. And every one of their screams and pleas and cries for mercy shall go unanswered and I will take them again and again.”
“What about the heel?” Asked the Sgt. Major.
“You are asking the wrong question, Sgt. Major. Inopportune is an understatement in your case.”
“Then let us be done with this. I have been swallowed by the ages and now to be swallowed by he whom the ages have been chained.”
“No chains, Sgt. Major. You have been all too willing.”
—
The audio message terminated abruptly. There was the distinct sound of ripping flesh from bone before the end and the voice of the search and rescue vessel’s captain was cut short with a scream that raised the hairs of those present. At first there was nothing to say, questions abounded in the minds of those men, but soon a leader of nations spoke about a rescue mission to investigate the mystery and look for survivors. They all agreed, unanimous, hurried and without question. It must be solved.
