The Silence of Space
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by: Anomaly
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Word Count: 1502
The Traveler's Bar Series
SoS
Shattering the
Silence of Space
Marcus put together this relatively short story to dispel certain myths about the relative silence of deep space. Understandably, not all of our regulars are traveler's. Those who only know what they read or hear, often question certain topics. On occasion, enough people will ask about a certain subject where it becomes necessary to explain it more clearly. It was just such an occasion that brought Marcus to the stage to bring us this tale.
Marcus lumbered apelike up the stairs and onto the stage. His heavy boots and gait combined to create enough noise to silence the crowd and focus everyone's attention on him. Half a cigar hung out of the left corner of his mouth. His right hand held the freshly filled beer pitcher that he used for a glass. When he spoke, it was as much a growl as it was speech. His heavily accented and loud voice often made it difficult for many people to differentiate.
“The deep silence of deep space!” Marcus began. “I have heard tale of it! Aye! Indeed I have heard many stories about it. Although, I have never actually heard it myself!” Marcus was a very animated speaker to say the least. As he spoke, a group of newcomers to the Traveler's Bar who sat close to the stage felt compelled to duck, fearing that his beer would spill out in their direction. When he noticed there discomfort, he removed the cigar stub and took a large drink from the pitcher. As he set it down with a heavy “thunk” on the stage table, he felt compelled to respond.
“I'd not be wasting any liquor by pouring it out on anybody. Especially not in my own establishment.” He winked directly at the people as he turned his attention to his Sweet Rosie working behind the bar. As he got Rosie's attention, he brought his hands out in a grand sweeping gesture towards all of the patrons there. Bringing a closed fist hard into his chest, he indicated to Rosie that he was buying a round for the house. A smattering of cheers went up from some of the regulars as Rosie reached up and gave the bell a single strike.
Marcus returned to his story unaffected by the interruption. His voice easily carried over the sounds of people ordering their free drinks. He gave a knowing smile to the patrons who had been so nervous. He also noted that they were now smiling as they paid attention more to his story than to him. “It is readily agreed that deep space is silent. The facts all seem to confirm that theory anyhow. But let me tell you something else. Where there is life, there is noise. There is noise from birth to death. Even in space that is not any different in that regards.”
“A ship is a living thing. It may not think on its own, it may not be aware but it is alive!. And just like any living creature, when it is there dying, it does what any creature does ... it cries out! But a ship does not cry out alone. It cries out with the voice of its crew both past and present, it cries out with anger and with hate and even with love. The cries of a ship as it dies are among the most horrible sounds I have ever heard in my life.”
His eyes roamed the room as he told his story. He had the unique ability to make everyone feel as if he was speaking to them each individually. No matter how large or how small the crowd was, he was able to make everyone feel like they were somehow directly involved. Many a time he had been told he would be a great politician if only he could learn to lie. As he sat down in the chair on the stage, he stopped long enough to take another long pull from his beer glass. Putting the cigar stub back, unlit into his mouth, he hunched forward in the chair and continued.
“I was still a young lad when I first experienced a dying ship. I say experienced it because that is exactly what you do. You see it there dying, you feel its tremors and hear its cries and somehow, being there makes you as much a part of it as any of the ship's equipment or even the ship itself. You experience every sensation as surely as if it was happening to you alone. The events leading up to the moment scarcely matter.
Any motion that was under way when the engines die simply continues. If the ship was under any significant amount of power when the engines die, the ship will shake and vibrate with enough intensity to rattle your eyes right out of their sockets. The interior walls and bulkheads all cry out loud enough to rattle teeth and burst eardrums as they are buckled and shattered by the pressure transference that makes its way through the frame and hull of the ship. Alloy plates from the floors scream as they are torn from their moorings. Pop rivets and welds thunder out in agony as they are literally blown apart from the increasing pressure as the transference makes its way through the ship. Anything or anyone that was unfortunate enough to be in contact with a surface at the time would not even be recognizable anymore.
If you are really lucky, by now the lights have all gone out. Usually there are glaring red and yellow lights attempting to make the situation known, as if anyone would really need any more indications that something was wrong. And then!” Here Marcus paused as much for effect as he did to take a sip of his beer. However, drink he did and then continued in his lively fashion. “And then she begins to really cry and scream. Sirens temporarily drown out any other noises as the ship begins disintegrating. Broken hydraulic lines hiss and chug as they force high pressure streams of steaming oil all over anything close enough to hit. Broken electrical lines dance and twirl in a macabre dance of death, their iridescent sparks spitting out violently in surprisingly beautiful shades of blue and white adding to the chaos, confusion and fear that fills you. Servo motors screech and whine attempting ceaselessly to close blast doors and hatches long broken or gone. Anything that is not already broken or not still attached to something becomes a ballistic projectile crushing, breaking and further adding to the destruction of anything and everything in their path.
Thick, overpowering acrid smoke fills what little is left of the air. It coats everything in heavy black soot, mixing with the blood and the oil to form an eerie liquid shell. It fills your throat, your eyes and your nostrils with the heat of a thousand flames. Thick, ethereal hands seem to form in the smoke and wrap tightly around your lungs and throat. You have to fight and struggle for every small breath you take. Your lungs spasm violently as blood courses through them where only oxygen is meant to be. As the outer shields fail completely, the hull freezes almost instantly. The shrill cries of the ship reach a deafening crescendo with the rapid contractions caused by the cold. At the same time that your brain is still struggling hopelessly to register everything that you are already experiencing, the roar grows even louder until it becomes a physical force that permeates every fiber of your physical existence.
Even as the horror creates chaos all around you, you allow yourself just the briefest glimmer of hope. The flames from the smoke are torn violently from your eyes, your nostrils and even from deep in your throat and lungs. The ghostly hands that had been holding you are shattered as if they were merely a part of the ship as well. The tattered remnants of your lungs are finally free enough for you to try and take a breath. That small glimmer of hope however, is quickly broken as reality sets in. You realize that you only have this brief respite because all of the horrors that you have experienced so personally are being sucked out into the vacuum of space. The ship trembles violently as its life gives way to death. It, like you, begin the final implosion that throws you into the vast emptiness of the universe around you. Only then can you hear the Silence of Space.”
Not one person moved as Marcus put the cigar stub back in his mouth, picked up his beer glass and walked heavily off the stage.
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