Monstrosity

by Laura Diaz De Arce

  “Mm, not possible,” said Goldie. “Scanners read for four different types of radiation signatures. Anything that is cataloged as having been Earth-based biological radiation signatures is registered as default to the machine. It's anything that has a radiation not within parameters that sets it off. But it's got levels. If it's inorganic and radiation levels aren't toxic it's blue. It'll only go red for organic objects with radiation signatures that are non-Earth based.”

  “OK, so why didn't the DECT stick pick it up? Or do they pick up different information than the scanners?” Heath asked, a boyish bounce to his eating and talking.

  Goldie shook her head. “No, DECT sticks are just smaller, more precise versions of the scanners. And they sync data with the scanners. If the scanners picked up something, the DECT sticks would be looking for those signatures.”

  “Hmmm. Well then,” Rebecca said, eyes narrowing in thought, “what could have set off the scanner but not the DECT stick? It'd have to be organic and non-Earth based. Perhaps organic material reached here from an asteroid from somewhere else? Or maybe some of our organic material got out and was irradiated?”

  Goldie bit her cheek. “We measure for live organic material, no matter how small. The scanners were developed to prevent the spread of possible alien bacteria that could make explorers sick, or worse, cause an epidemic. Dead organic material doesn't register a red-light warning. And our own materials are compensated for in first planet scan.”

  “So... aliens?” Karen said with a dramatic wave of her arms.

  “Oh come on, a hundred planets plus and never a sign of life,” Pierce said, breaking his silent meal. “Aliens are a myth, even alien bacteria.”

  “Well, I mean, we're not from this moon, so aren't we technically the aliens?” said Etta.

  “Maybe just you E.T.” said Karen, giving Etta a playful poke. Etta tried not to blush.

  “You know what I mean. Probably just a scanner misread. Told you to order a new set last week,” said Pierce.

  Goldie just rolled her eyes until Rebecca intoned “Wouldn't it be curious though?”

  “What would be curious?” said Heath.

  “Well, a living thing, maybe small like bacteria, or not existing in our field of vision, so for all intents and purposes – invisible. A living thing that would first register as having a non-earthling radiation signature, but quickly adapting to mimic our own radiation. Wouldn't that be strange?” said Rebecca, her eyes pointed in the distance.

  “But why? Why somehow mimic radiation signatures of another being? How would it be capable of that?” said Goldie, a very real concern growing on her face.

  “Survival.” said Etta. “Think about it, this rock is barren, imitation is a classic survival mechanism. And if you're something small, like a cluster of bacteria, you could do it fast and adapt to a new environment. An organism like that could probably survive any environment.”

  The room fell silent at the prospect. The hum of the machines that kept them alive in the middle of unforgiving space grew louder with each second.

  “That's actually rather frightening,” Rebecca said, needing to keep the silence at bay. “I mean, an organism that could imitate another's so well it's almost invisible. Beautiful, but frightening.”

  “It's only frightening if it develops a taste for Earthlings,” said Pierce. “Besides, for it to be any threat it would naturally have to be toxic or a predator or sentient or viral. And as of yet we haven't found sentience on any of these planets. No intelligent life outside what we bring. Leave the creepy impossible aliens to the vid makers. It's more likely that the scanners are on the fritz.”

  “I'll contact base and get them to send a program patch,” said Goldie, aimlessly moving her food on her plate. Karen scooted close to her, perhaps seeking Goldie's warmth or just the comfort of a known body, Karen's dark skin nicely contrasting against Goldie's pale complexion. They resembled a living Yin and Yang.

  “Rebecca, why am I eating greenies again? You know I hate this! It tastes like toe fungus!” said Heath. It was clear that Heath was trying to lighten the mood and change the conversation. His effort to alleviate their worries was met with a few chuckles. His tantrum diverted the conversation to a lighthearted one over whether the benefits of greenies was worth the taste. But the discomfort sat in the back of their minds.

  * * *

  Etta was the only crew member that liked to spend her rec hours on the observation deck. She would have rather spent it in a suit on an outside walk, but when she floated the idea past Karen after they first arrived, she let her know in no uncertain terms she was being an inconsiderate ass.

  “Walks need to be monitored by another crew member and they need to check the specs. You're gonna make me or some other sucker spend their rec hours doing that?” Then she bopped Etta's nose with a finger and walked off.

  Instead, Etta would bring a workout mat to the Observation Deck to take in the views from the safety of the compound. It was a small, domed structure, where the walls were made from a high-density clear plastic resin, partitioned by steel. It was the space version of a glass house. The exposure of the setup made more than one crew-member uncomfortable to be in there for too long. Heath had mentioned once that if he stayed on the observation deck for more than twenty minutes, he felt like he couldn't breathe. He kept imagining that the walls would break and he would die in space, his breath sucked straight out of his body.

  For Etta it was an opposite feeling. Etta relished the openness of it. She could almost see herself walking through the walls and out into the landscape. Between the interior walls and wearing her helmet outside of them, she was suffocating. This was her only release.

  Etta tried to normalize her being there by bringing the mat. Rebecca liked to come in her morning hours and meditate. But Etta's focus was not on centering her body or perfecting her form. She used this as a vehicle to stare out into the great, purple-tinted desert. She could see the last vestiges of the system's red sun's rays as it set off the moon's horizon. The red light made for a magenta glow coming off the still dust of the moon. It caused the large stone formations to trail long shadows. Black figures that lay on the ground.

  This was Etta's second assignment. Her first had been three years ago on the water planet H749. It was a planet much like Earth 1 in temperament and size. It already had an atmosphere and needed minimal terraforming. After their surveying, the company decided it would be billed as a Pleasure Planet. By now the “life” would have been introduced and hotel after hotel would have been built making H749, now “IndiSea”, the ultimate tourist attraction.

  That had been where she'd first met Karen. Karen still referred back to that planted paradise. She would regularly reply that instead of being stuck on this rock she could be sunbathing or surfing at IndiSea.

  Etta had enjoyed H749 when she had first arrived, but could not see herself there now. She loved the Plum Moon more. It was just everything she had dreamed of as a child. The foreignness of it. The danger. It was much more alien. It was that much more beautiful.

  She reflected on this as she sat still watching the shadows grow longer. She was almost sure that it was the light when she thought she saw something move.

  * * *

  Look at you Etta, still getting spooked by shadows, she said to herself, as she laid down in her bed to sleep that night. She turned the dials at the wall of her bed cupboard to set her preferred mattress temperature. This was the worst part of the day for Etta; trying to get to sleep in the coffin-like bed was an anxiety-ridden battle each evening. She never understood why the engineers and designers had made their sleeping pods incredibly small. According to Goldie, it was because crew rooms were supposed to double as escape pods in original designs, and that they had hoped the sleeping pods could eventually be swapped out for stasis chambers. That is if the costs for stasis chambers ever came down.

  Etta was very sure she would rather die in an explosion, like the one that killed the colonists of Helofax2
9, than spend an indeterminate amount of time in a stasis chamber. Cramped in the six and a half foot, by three and a half foot, by two-foot chamber was the stuff of her continued nightmares. The only comfort was her small port window looking out into the vastness of purple plains. She angled herself so that her face was close to the high-density plastic. She imagined she was out there, in the incredible lightness of it. Her bare feet planted in the violet soil. Freedom surrounding her body. Those fantasies nursed her to sleep.

  That night, the crew remained restless, as if something was perpetually disruptive. There was the soft, almost noiseless ting-ting-ting outside Rebecca's room, like pebbles falling on metal. The ping, ping, ping pried her from out of her slumber the entire night. She would begin to slide into sleep when a ping would jolt her awake. Or, she'd be in the middle of a repetitive dream when a ping would insert itself there and jolt her upright, whereupon she'd once again hit her head on the top of the chamber.

  There was the sudden change in air pressure in Goldie's quarters that woke up Karen, gasping and choking. When Goldie checked the stats, everything read in normal parameters. Neither Heath nor Pierce would admit to their nightmares. Both had dreams that they were paralyzed and suffocating.

  Etta also felt something, an imperceptible hum that none of the instruments picked up on. It threw the universe just off rhythm. A steady buzzing, like cicadas in summer. Except this buzzing missed a beat every few hundred beats. It was almost like something was sending a signal.

  What most don't know about deep space travel is that people depend on consistency. They depend on routine to give the illusion of safety. In the broadest terms, deep space travel carries dangers that could give even the bravest a sudden panic attack when they consider that they're sending out a group of people into the near unknown with just a tin can around them to prevent them from the endless expanse of the universe. Unless a planet has been terraformed or altered for human habitation, it's just a few centimeters of plastic and metal between a crew and oblivion. Quiet is good. Consistency is good. Any deviation from those things brings the reminder that they are alone. With every clip of a stray rock flying in space, every wrong instrument reading brings back the fear.

  For all that, breakfast was uncharacteristically quiet. Heath attempted a few halfhearted jokes to lighten the mood but it did little to alleviate the pensive stillness in the station. The crew mostly pushed around their food around on their plates. Even Rebecca, who tended to be dogmatic about proper nutrition, only picked at her carbohydrate combination. The sole exception was Etta, who was ravenous to the point where the rest of the crew gave her their leftovers. She gulped them down with fury. Rebecca was too focused on her lack of sleep to take note of Etta's appetite even though she had also given the woman her leftovers. Etta swallowed each morsel but was left hungry and unsatisfied. She quelled her complaints for their morning meeting.

  “I got the service specs on the scanners and DECT sticks. Everything checks out,” Goldie started. “The only stuff that got through was the typical matter.”

  “Then what was the missed alarm?” said Karen, rubbing her eyes. She hadn't been able to fully sleep after that choking incident, even after she'd left Goldie's quarters in a huff.

  “Just a blip. No machine is perfect. Could have also misread Etta for a second before it re-registered,” said Goldie, with a calm that seemed forced. She and Karen's late-night fight had left a sour taste in both their mouths.

  “Speaking of blips, we may want to check if there are any asteroid showers coming soon. That could explain the pebbles hitting near my room last night,” said Karen.

  “I can get to that after lunch. In the meantime, we've gotten odd readings on the drill. Etta, are you up for a walk?” Pierce waited until Etta nodded enthusiastically before continuing. “And Goldie you're gonna need to see if the readings are another mechanical issue.” Goldie nodded and picked her teeth with a ring finger. “And Karen, I'm going to need you to double check all the math by hand.”

  Karen answered with a sarcastic salute and an “Aye Aye Captain.”

  “Heath, can you begin assembling the aperture for the digger and pump?” Pierce continued.

  “Sure, but I'm still waiting for the second half of parts from TaramX5. They won't be here for another four days,” said Heath.

  “Just do what you can until then. Everyone have their assignments?” Pierce didn't even look up from his tablet to check if people were still paying attention. “Meeting adjourned. Dismissed.”

  Etta had to deliberately slow her walk as she rushed to the suit chamber. Despite her head getting to her after that shadow she saw, she felt an urgent need to leave the domed enclosure and feel the sand beneath and between her toes. She would have to settle for the sand beneath a boot instead. Etta emerged with the suit uncomfortably tight and loose at the same time. Her breath felt caught and labored beneath all the layers, the thick fabric further inhibiting her movement. The stuffiness reminded her of how her mother would tightly tuck her inside her sheet and cotton comforter. After her mother left, she would throw them off and sleep naked in the summer or the winter. In this suit she was bundled in those covers again, but now she had to maneuver.

  While Etta was fidgeting with her arm straps a voice came over the intercom. “Etta, read one?” It was Pierce, testing the coms. “Yeah. I read. Isn't Karen going to be my second?” She went right back to fixing her straps when Pierce reminded her that Karen would be doing math for most of the day. “Everyone else is busy,” said Pierce, preempting her next question.

  The half-light came on and Etta became even more interested in finishing getting ready and getting out there. Pierce walked into the transfer chamber to check her straps and fittings. There was always something about the way he ran his hands over the straps, the way his eyes looked at her in these close quarters, that bothered her. He was following the rules to a “T” but that didn't mean that while he was fitting her, his finger didn't “accidentally” caress a nipple, the side of a breast, the arch of a buttock or the space between her thighs.

  This had started three months ago, and the first time he did it, Etta had earnestly thought it was an accident. While clicking a side suit link, his hand went and cupped her beneath her breast. He made it seem like a slip while he made sure the fasteners were tight enough. But then it kept happening, and each time he was bolder about it than the last. Etta looked at the camera footage later and noted with dismay that he had angled himself in such a way that nothing was discernible. She also remembered that as the lead on these projects, he had the camera access code and could probably delete anything if necessary.

  There were several occasions where she had tried to broach the subject with the other crewmembers, but she had to be extremely careful. Any accusation could get her fired in one way or another. Above that, no one else seemed to have this issue with him. Then again, she was the one who did the majority of the walks. The rest of the crew already found her “odd,” who would believe her anyway? Even Karen, for all her wry humor about Pierce, hadn't noticed anything.

  As soon as her helmet was buckled and she'd mentally zoned out from the unwanted molestation, Etta bolted to the chamber. Her tank and backpack strapped, she grabbed the bag of tools near the exit shelf. “Ready,” she said over the intercom, waiting for Pierce to make his way into the control booth to press the open sequence. “Ready,” he said after only a minute's time, but it felt like an eternity to her.

  She could almost feel his breathing as he kept the com open and it made her want to vomit. “We are live Etta. Depressurizing at 25%. Going 'green' in 3, 2, 1.”

  The doors opened, and that day seemed even more beautiful than the day before. Another of G-XKT's moons was close by in orbit. If this was the Plum Moon, that was the Silver one. It was next to be drilled and surveyed because the Silver Moon had mercury deposits. But for now, it was peaceful, reflecting a gray light from its surface to the plum moon. It drowned the landscape in lilac.

  W
ith her first step off the platform, she felt it. That vibration she had felt the entire night before. It was faint, like a tickle traveling from the sole of her boot upwards to her ankles and thighs. Everything seemed to register the tingle. It was arrhythmic, uneven. If Etta hadn't known better, she'd have been tempted to say it was a language. But she did know better and she had done some before-breakfast reading on the subject of vibrations and how bodies in space have sometimes been affected by the gravitational pulls of multiple satellites. At least this was the conclusion in one or two theories.

  Anyway, putting such thoughts out of her head, she looked eight meters forward to the drill. A few more steps along and she was striding in time with the mysterious sounds. A song, Etta thought. It reminds me of a song but I don't know what song or where I have heard it. She muted her com to hum along. With every step she took she began to dance along to it, hopping and tapping, letting the distorted rhythm move her. She was happy there were no station cameras at this distance.

  On the surface, the drill looked exactly as she had left it. She turned on her helmet camera and checked the monitoring systems first. She heard Pierce come through and turned on both her com and the unit.

  “OK, I'm reading interference about one hundred and forty-five meters down. What does it look like to you?” Pierce's voice came over like a static mess. The sound of it, close and in her ear, made her sweat.

  “Checking now,” she said, as she peered at the scope. It wasn't stuck at the one-forty-five mark, it had made it eighteen more meters before the safety shutdown had kicked in. The drill was really just to do more in-depth surveying and sample collecting, and machines like that tended to be “wheat stalks” as Heath called them. They were compact and light for space travel, and had some flexibility, but too much pressure and they snapped. She noted at the one-hundred forty-five it hit a thicker patch of material and programed the side arm to take a sample. There was another patch farther down where it had finally stopped.