Sci-Fi Excerpts

Quietness enveloped us in the deep tespasses of space. Not just the kind of quietness you get from “the quiet game”, but a silence so intense that it wrapped around us like an infinite shroud, binding us and drowning every iota of sound imaginable. It was strange. Something I’d never experienced. True silence.

There was no hum of electricity.

No sound of wind. No leaves shaking across branches.

I couldn’t even hear Humphrey’s heavy breathing for the first time the entire mission.

Artemis-23 coasted in orbit around Proxima Centauri b, its solar sails unfurled and photon drives dormant.

“Shit!” the hissing voice of Lieutenant Commander Sara Kepler sounded, cutting the entire moment in two.

Her eyes were fixed on the HUD display as it flickered with static interference.

It had been six years with this team, and this was the first time I’d ever heard a curse word escape her nearly-perfect mouth.

My gaze turned, eyes wide with worry.

Since Artemis-23 had left Earth, equipped with NASA's most advanced AI navigation systems, a Quantum Core processor, and the newly developed Hypercomms array that allowed real-time communication across interstellar distances we had been smooth sailing–but now, watching Sara Kepler panicking as she flipped switches across the control panel, I knew we were in for a hell of a bumpy ride.

“Communications are out,” she snapped, looking at me.

“We’re so damn close!” barked our pilot, Klein. We were nearing the target.

We were two hours away, to be exact.

"Commander, the Quantum Core is experiencing fluctuations," the ship’s Artificial Intelligence voice, Loretta, rang out, in her steady, synthesized voice. "Diagnostic results indicate interference from an unknown energy field originating from Proxima b."

Sara adjusted her helmet, her gloved fingers tapping the console to run a secondary diagnostic. “Dr. Chambers,” she yelled to me. “Come help me with this! Keep trying to radio!”

We were supposed to be observing a new exoplanet’s atmospheric data, mapping its potential for becoming inhabitable, but the interference this close to it? That was strange.

Where was it coming from?

There was nothing out here.

What the hell could have possibly messed with our instruments like this?

“Loretta,” Sara said to the AI. “Can you localize the interference pattern? See where it’s coming from?”

“Pattern localized, Commander. It’s emanating from the northern hemisphere of Proxima b, synchronized with a recurring signal frequency.”

My pulse quickened. A recurring signal? That wasn’t in the mission brief.

I should know. I was the Mission Specialist.

The probability of extraterrestrial signals was slim–but what else could this be with a recurring signal?

As far as we knew, no other earth-beings had been out here, and sure as hell not inward enough to set up a signal—and why would a signal even be here?

“I’ve got it!” I yelled out, as soon as static came in over the communication module. “I’ve opened up a secure channel,” I said to her, nodding.

Quickly, she swiped the handheld from me and spoke, hurriedly. “Houston, this is Artemis-23. We’re detecting an unknown interference signal originating from Proxima b. Please advise.”

The screen over the module buzzed with static, then crackled to life as Houston responded. “Artemis-23, this is Houston. Maintain orbit and initiate spectral analysis of the signal. Do not engage directly. We repeat, do not engage.”

Sara nodded, though I could tell a sense of unease crept over her; it did me, too. Protocol dictated that we proceed with caution, especially when the source was unknown. But how could we not engage if this was something extraterrestrial?

I watched as Sara typed in the command for the ship's onboard spectral analyzer, and Loretta immediately began feeding data to the console. As numbers and patterns scrolled across the screen, Sara and I both looked at one another.

“What’s going on?!” Klein barked.

“It’s not random…” I muttered.

“It’s structured!” Sara yelled out, noticing what I did. The sequence of data repeated. “It’s like a language or something…”

"Loretta, enhance signal and translate the pattern to visual frequencies."

Within seconds, the screen morphed, and the numbers transformed into a wave on the screen. Twelve seconds. That’s how long between repeating sequences.

Glyphs and shapes began to take form on the screen, shifting like constellations.

"Commander, this signal appears to contain binary-encoded sequences," Loretta announced. "The probability of it being naturally occurring is less than 0.01%."

Sara and I leaned closer, hearts pounding. "Houston, this isn’t interference. We’re picking up what appears to be an intelligent life signal."

For a moment, there was silence on the comms.

“Permission to investigate?” she said again.

“What the hell did you just say?” Klein snapped, looking back from his seat.

She ignored him, though, and so did I.

Were we really saying what I thought we were saying?

Then came Houston’s reply, a tremor of excitement and worry detectable through the static in the man’s voice. “Artemis-23, permission granted to investigate. Proceed with extreme caution.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Shit!” Commander Talvin Lox cursed as he sprinted down the metal grates above the alleyway, his boots thundering with every step. The sounds of his pursuers were getting louder, and his frustration mounted with every footfall. He should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. *Why had he been so naive?*

Fumbling for the sides of his goggles, he shouted, “Come in, Jerry!” A white light blazed across his vision, blinding him momentarily as he raced ahead. *Connecting… Connecting…*

“Fuck!” he growled, vaulting over a railing to the lower quarter of the industrial sector. *Of course he couldn’t get a decent connection on this side of the planet.* “Screw off, you jaggerwallies!” he snapped over his shoulder, skidding around a corner as his lungs burned and his pulse hammered in his ears. *If they caught him, he’d be in for it—and he was running out of steam. Fast.*

Behind him, the lead Nebula soldier seemed to surge forward, speeding up after the insult. Talvin grinned despite himself—*guess jaggerwally hit home*. But antagonizing them was a risk. These cyborg recruits, these ruthless Neanderthals, pranced around like they owned the galaxy, making his blood boil. *Jaggerwally wasn’t exactly a compliment,* he thought smugly. It was the lowest insult he could think of.

His grin faded as reality hit him: if they caught him, he’d face a fate worse than death. He’d be tortured, displayed, maybe even burned for treason. They’d make a spectacle of him.

“Halt! By order of the Ten Nebula Command, halt!” the soldier bellowed, his blaster charging up.

Talvin ducked and dodged as the shots rang out, diving into an alley and climbing an iron ladder up to another level. *Maybe if he could get above them…*

“Where’d he go?!” One soldier’s voice echoed from below. Holding his breath, Talvin clung to the ladder’s rungs, watching as they searched the alley. He wiped sweat from his forehead, willing his heart to slow.

*Connected.*

“Whose brilliant idea was this again?” Talvin muttered as he pulled himself up to the next level. His HUD flickered, and Jerry’s face—a red and silver android with eyes uncannily human—popped up on the screen.

“Yours,” Jerry replied with a sigh. “This was your idea, Commander.”

“Right… mine.” Talvin wiped sweat from his brow, smirking. “Stupid decision.”

A beeping from his wrist link interrupted. “Sector 12; this is Commander Talvin Lox.”

“Commander!” a harsh voice cut through, “Did you not hear about the breach in Sector 1?”

Talvin stalled, buying himself a second to think. “Admittedly, I might’ve been a bit… distracted.”

But another transmission broke through. “Commander Lox!” The shrill voice belonged to Captain Brixby, the worst of his superiors, a man who lived to micromanage him.

“Captain Brixby,” Talvin muttered, forcing a smile. “I was just being briefed on the incident…”

In reality, he knew exactly what they were talking about—because he’d caused the breach. He and Jerry had uncovered a hidden document, one supposedly lost in the Great War. This file was rumored to hold the location of planets with breathable air, soil, and oceans. *Real places.* Not the cold, artificial “livable zones” Nebula Command had set up for humans and humanoids. If only he could get the data safely off this planet…

“Commander!” both Brixby and General Hazel barked at once, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He stammered. “Sorry, I thought I heard someth—”

A massive blast rocked the platform beneath him, throwing him forward as his goggles flew off. A Nebula soldier crashed down beside him, circuits sparking, oil and blood mixing on the metal grate.

“Soldier down!” Talvin screamed, the sight momentarily jarring him. Cyborgs weren’t supposed to *feel*, but this one writhed in pain, eyes glinting in anguish as his systems shorted out. It felt strangely wrong, like an omen he couldn’t ignore.

“Commander, report!” General Hazel’s voice demanded from the crackling feed.

Talvin rolled to his side just in time to deflect a shot with his wrist guard. *They actually work.* He laughed despite himself, but his gut urged him to stay put, and for once he obeyed. Moments later, the platform he’d vacated collapsed with a deafening crash, taking half the sector with it.

When the dust settled, Talvin blinked up. Where the inn had once stood was now just a twisted mass of fire and smoke. A wave of nausea hit him—how many people had been inside?

A deep voice rumbled from below. “All targets neutralized.”

“Targets?” Talvin muttered, inching to the railing, looking down at the alleyway through the smoke and fire. There, barely visible, was a figure—a human figure, limping forward, gripping his side. A red laser sight glinted on his chest.

“Get down!” Talvin shouted. The man dropped just as a blaster shot zipped overhead. Talvin scrambled down to the alley, gun drawn. He didn’t know who had fired or why, but he knew he had to protect this stranger.

The sirens grew louder, filling the air with their ominous wails. Talvin’s heart pounded as he got closer to the fallen man. In the flickering light, he saw him clearly—a broad, bearded man, fully human and badly injured. *And Talvin was blind,* nearly surrounded by fire and the encroaching threat of whoever had just demolished the entire sector.

Something inside him told him this was only the beginning, and that whatever came next, he’d need every ounce of courage he had left.