The Whisperer

   Aaron had never seen anything as beautiful as the death of the Milkyway. Even now, as he watched his home world consumed in the holocaust of dying stars who ripped at everything around them in an attempt to save themselves, there was not a Mona-Lisa or a marble statue which could have compared to the dying reds and violent violets of a galaxy in its death throes. It reminded him of a campfire burning out the last of its fuel before a group of cosmic gods retired from its cooling coals. The scene was beyond beautiful, and Aaron was glad that he got to see the violence from the deep void of space rather than one of the abandoned colonies his people had left behind. Most of the human race chose to leave when the pearly white strangers from the stars had come to carry them to a new home. Others still clung to the belief that some God was coming to save them from the cataclysm which was quickly consuming their world. 

Aaron guessed that those sad stragglers were those pious zealots of the old religions which had clung to conservative values which had been their cornerstone. He had rejected the teachings of all those religions when he was a young boy, but he always felt like there was a particle of truth somewhere in those stories deep down. They had been right to teach that someone would come for the faithful and save them from that last, violent end which had come to their home world. It had not been the fiery judgment which their priest had told them about, but maybe the true gods had known that when they left the earth eons of time before, Aaron had lived. Regardless of how much of the old religions were correct in their teachings, the gods had come to save Aaron and the people of his world.

Well at least, the rest of his people would be going to a new world. Three days ago there had been a mutiny on Aaron’s ship, the SS Brig, which had been used to harbor the most “dangerous” members of his race. When the gods had come down to rescue the helpless planet, they had split Aaron’s race in levels of “fitness” for habitation on certain worlds in the galaxy they were headed to, and placed them on ships which were destined for those planets. Aaron was made the captain of the worst of the worst, the murderers, con-artists and rapists of his race. 

They were destined for a colony on a cold, rocky planet called R9. It was almost identical to their old world, but it paled in comparison to the warm cities of glass on the golden worlds which waited for the successful members of his race. Although his passengers were fine not to live with the “sissies” on the other ships, something was not right in the huge bulk of the Brig. Ever since they had left, hoarse whispers had harassed the crew and passengers until they started a riot. During the brawls and tear-gassing that had followed, ten of the crew were killed, and someone damaged the engine beyond repair. The mutiny was cut down, and the main offenders who survived were placed in twenty-four hour stasis until the trip was finished, but there was nothing that Aaron could do to fix the damage. All he could do was send out an S.O.S beacon to appease the now restless passengers. 

Thankfully those passengers did not last very long. The stasis controls failed three days after the mutiny. Aaron woke up one day to the sound of screams coming from the hold, and he arrived just in time to see the air vent from the massive cabin below. After that, the only living things Aaron had to worry about was himself and the two mutineers in stasis and himself. His frozen companions were not much for conversation, since the stasis froze all of their brain function that was not necessary, so Aaron spent most of his time watching the decaying galaxy fade away behind him. Now the last of the stars were flickering out, and he hoped that the gods would return for him soon. The isolation in the silent void of the ship was starting to get to him, and he thought he could hear the sound of footsteps where none should be. 

The galaxy was dead now, and the steps had turned into whispers which haunted him while he slept. Aaron had nothing left to do but stare into the abyss and wait for his eventual rescue. This had always been the plan, they would return for him before the ship landed on the rocky planet. However, the gods had been very quiet since they left the planet on how and when that would happen. Until they came for him, he decided he would stay in the bridge of the derelict, which had become his temporary home. For some reason the whispers seemed to follow him, and emanated from points along the walls that Aaron could not quite place. The scratchy whispers had made his captains quarters down the hall, and they made him so afraid he could not return to his room. He was fine, though, the bridge had everything he needed. A low bench and a rolled up captain's uniform made a suitable bed; and a sleek, white vending machine supplied ample coffee and nutrient bars to sustain him. If he really needed to, there was a water purifier just outside the bridge’s pearly door where he could slink his thirst. He doubted that he would be going there anytime soon. Those whispers disgusted him, and made him want to jump out the airlock, so he felt better about staying here where it was safe from those voices. 

That next morning the voices found their way into the bridge’s cold metal interior. Aaron woke up to the scratchy sounds coming from everywhere around him in the darkness. The voice sounded even more horrible here, and for the first time he could understand it.

“Mene, Mene, Tekel, upharsin..” At first the strange phrase caught him off guard, but as it got closer and more aggressive, that same disgust returned to him. Aaron started for the door, and the whispers whipped into a horrifying shriek. The suddenness of the shriek made Aaron almost run headlong into the door. The door opened with a hiss as he tumbled into the bright corridor. Within seconds, he was back on his feet and running for the stairs which led to the ship docks. His last safe-haven was gone, and now all he could do was hope the life boats had enough supplies to survive until help came. Another sound echoed through the corridor, like a crashing grate, and he heard the raspy voice once again.

“You have been weighed and measured!” The voice shrieked, and the sound of footsteps returned, this time in a maniacal run. 

Aaron slid around the corner and slammed into the forward airlock, while the footsteps closed the distance between them. He wrenched at the airlock release lever which groaned in protest. The voice was cackling a raspy laugh now, and he could hear the breath of his attacker. Aaron reached deep into himself and tore at the lever one last time. There was a crunching

 sound, and the airlock disappeared into the wall. 

Aaron fell into the dimly lit ship dock and the world spun around him in a violent circle. His invisible attacker screamed and jumped on him, Aaron could not see the creature very well, it was just a mass of white skin and hair which clawed at his face and neck.  Aaron threw the furry shape off himself and scrambled down the metal gangway. He was confident he could outsmart this stranger, which might give him the time he needed to wait out until help arrived. He leapt up a stack of boxes and hid in a small engineering hole that had once been populated by a robot. The robot broke when they started the journey, though he was not sure how that had happened. The machine's corpse was still there, and Aaron took the opportunity to arm himself with a discarded wrench which was rusting in the corner. Whoever or whatever the whisperer was, they were not going to take Aaron out with a fight. 

As if thinking about the creature called him forth like a phantom, the flapping of bare feet announced the hairy thing’s arrival from around the corner. It was a white, hairy thing with pale, leathery skin. There was something ape-like in the way it hobbled around, dragging its fingertips on the ground. Its back was horribly arched, as if it had spent decades crouching and crawling around on all fours in small spaces. Aaron actually felt pity for the crooked thing, carrying a length of cable between his hands which were knobbed from arthritis. There was a madness in the way it looked from side to side, as if sniffing for something, and Aaron almost left his hiding place to help the poor creature. Then it said something which made all of Aaron’s sympathy leave. 

“You’ve been found wanting,” it shrieked, “rest are dead, only one left to go.” The creature cackled, and danced the most disgusting jig Aaron had ever seen. 

Aaron’s blood was starting to boil. Everything made sense now, the riots, the deaths, all of it. This thing had done that, had killed all those men, women, and children. He felt a deep, burning hatred for the thing, which overpowered his initial fear. He climbed out of his hiding place and landed, roaring on the white shape. The shape crumbled to the  ground and Aaron hit it with the wrench again and again. The creature tried to claw at Aaron’s throat, but his flimsy limbs broke easily and offered little to no defense. After another three hits the thing stopped moving, and Aaron stopped at the top of his swing to observe the scene. 

He had left the creature a bloody mess, but he could see what the shape had once been. It was a man, a horribly weathered and malnourished man with gray eyes. Those eyes were wet with age and a sadness echoed through his whimpering voice. He said no words, and whined like an injured animal. Aaron stood up, panting, and threw the wrench across the gangway. This had been a man at some point, Aaron had savagely killed a man. As he went to collect the wrench, the shining, golden form of a god put its warm hand on his shoulder.

“Do not grieve my child, he was in a dark place.” They said in a soft voice. Aaron turned on them with a hot anger in his face, 

“A man, you made me kill a man! For what!?” The group of shining figures stood, unfazed by the verbal assault. The leader who was addressing Aaron looked back at his group,

“ We had heard of a child which had escaped stasis, but we were not sure if it was true.” Aaron looked at the whimpering form on the floor, a child, that was why it didn’t speak to him, it was a child. A child who had managed to survive through decades of life in space.  

The gods could see that he was distraught, and the leader waved his group back to the golden spacecraft they had docked during the fight. The god grabbed Aaron’s shoulder again, who turned to face him. 

“Come child, maybe this was for the best.” Aaron followed the shining god to freedom, but not before he stopped to look once more at the dying galaxy. The stars shined brighter now that the violence had ceased, but maybe they shined for a different reason; maybe they were mourning for the last death of the human race.