Waiting has never been my strong suit. My chronic impatience is as much a part of me as the stars are part of the universe. And now, here I am, pacing the clinical confines of a med-bay hidden away in the outer colony of Trappist-9, waiting to see a bio-engineer at 23:29 station time. It’s a scenario so improbable for me that I almost laughed. Almost.
“Waya,” the sharp voice of the receptionist broke through my thoughts, bringing my attention back to the shimmering holo-clock. “Stop stomping your paar,” she chided in a thick accent, her voice carrying a synthetic modulation common to MIMAS-class androids. That was the third time she had pointed it out tonight, and just like the first two, I ignored her. She popped a piece of gum with a noise too loud for my frayed nerves, her metallic digits rhythmically tapping against the terminal.
Beside me, Stunya-Sauji wheezed and coughed, her pale face illuminated by the sterile glow of the station’s lighting. I wrapped my arms around her trembling form, feeling the heat radiating from her skin. “Any moment now,” I assured her for the umpteenth time, though even I didn’t believe it anymore.
Our trip to the remote star cluster of Agg’U, an effort to study the elusive Ubij’Waya culture, had turned into a nightmare. The sixth orbital rotation here, and the days of sleeplessness were catching up with me. My muscles ached as I stood to stretch, suppressing a sigh.
As I debated whether to demand answers from the android receptionist, the door hissed open, revealing a lanky figure clad in the sterile white uniform of a bio-engineer. Relief flooded me, but it was short-lived as two others followed him, carrying an unconscious woman between them. Her nose bled rivulets of deep violet, and her eyes were rolled back into her head.
The woman was rushed past us into an adjoining room, the door sealing with a mechanical whir. From beyond it, I caught snippets of a heated conversation in the guttural tones of Brrla Nrr Lah, the lingua franca of Trappist-9’s industrial zones.
Stunya-Sauji’s hand tightened on mine, her breathing hitching. “E… Emilia,” she croaked, her voice barely a whisper, “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered back, my pulse quickening as an uneasy tension thickened the air. Whatever this was, it was unlike anything I’d seen before, and that was saying something.
Just then, Stunya-Sauji doubled over in a violent coughing fit, her frame shaking like a leaf in the void. “We should leave,” she managed to choke out, her voice trembling.
“No,” I insisted. “We can’t risk it. You’re too sick, and it’s a long drive back to the starport.”
“Emilia, please. I have med-strips. I’ll be fine. Let’s just go,” she pleaded, tears gathering in her reddened eyes.
Reluctantly, I helped her out of the med-bay and towards our rented hovercraft. But as I initiated the vehicle’s startup sequence, it sputtered and died. My heart sank.
“Not now,” I muttered, frantically trying again. No response. Panic coiled around me like a hungry serpent.
“What now?” Stunya-Sauji asked, her voice thin with exhaustion.
Before I could reply, a voice startled us from the shadows.
“Need help?” A man stepped forward, his face obscured by the low light. Recognition struck me – one of the men who had carried the woman earlier. His expression was calm, almost too calm.
“Our hovercraft isn’t starting,” I explained warily.
“Perhaps it’s fate,” he replied cryptically. “You’re here to study the Ubij’Waya, yes? Come. I’ll take you to their village.”
Against my better judgment, I agreed, reasoning that proximity to the Ubij’Waya might provide us some form of aid. The man introduced himself as Ura’Thyr, a guide familiar with the tribe’s ways. With Stunya-Sauji leaning heavily against me, we followed him into the inky blackness of the alien terrain.
Two hills later, we heard it – a haunting wail that set my nerves on edge. As we crested the final rise, a surreal tableau spread out before us. The village, composed of mud-like domes illuminated by flickering flame orbs, was suffused with smoke. Figures moved like shadows in the haze, their keening cries cutting through the stillness.
“What’s happening?” Stunya-Sauji whispered.
“The villagers mourn,” Ura explained gravely. “Evil has touched them.”
“Evil?” I echoed, dread pooling in my stomach.
“Yes. The wraith of Rrk-Zidari. It’s said to steal the very essence of life. They burn the chatter bats as an offering to Rula-Chal, the Sky Weaver, to banish it.”
The sight of charred remains piled high around a ceremonial pyre filled my senses with a rancid odor. “We shouldn’t be here,” I muttered, gripping Stunya-Sauji’s arm.
But it was too late. The mourners’ cries grew louder, and then I saw it. The woman from earlier, now tied to a post, her body convulsing unnaturally. Glowing tendrils of violet energy arced from her form, dancing like specters in the thick air. The villagers chanted, their voices rising in a crescendo that reverberated in my skull.
“We need to go. Now,” I whispered urgently to Stunya-Sauji, who nodded, her face pale as ash.
Before we could slip away, a guttural scream cut through the night. Stunya-Sauji collapsed beside me, blood pouring from her nose. My own vision blurred, and the last thing I saw before succumbing to darkness was the blazing figure of Rula-Chal descending into the chaos, its silhouette radiant yet terrifying.
“Is that all you can recall?” The investigator’s voice was cold, clinical.
I sat behind a reinforced glass wall, my skin covered in lesions that glowed faintly under the sterile lights of the quarantine chamber. “Yes,” I lied.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, jotting notes into his holo-journal. “The Rift Plague… it’s a cruel fate. But you’ve survived the initial stages. That’s promising.”
Promising. The word felt hollow. My mind replayed the horrors I’d witnessed, and I knew the nightmares would haunt me long after my quarantine was over—if I ever made it out alive.
“Do you remember the date of the incident?”
“27th of Lash, Cycle 3097,” I whispered, the memory as vivid as the day it happened.
Story written by Emaan. Edited by Artnoob100. To contribute your work, join the community.