Empyrean Iris Story Collection

The Empty Plate

A million hateful eyes glint their fury from the darkness, distant and cold caught up in spirals and clusters of ancient anger and the deepest most resounding quiet. They pull towards each other, spiraling, forever spiraling downwards and inwards into an unknown darkness where, if one were to be caught up, they would be suspended in a state trapped between death and life skewered on the descending claws of time.

We knew man was strange when we first met them, a consumer, one of flesh and of resources and of worlds powered, not by the laws that govern our existence, but by a strange and unknown entity glistening behind their eyes. Man is not man, but a shell powered by something strange, something eerie, something not of our plane. I have argued this many times over the years.

But why will no one here me.

***

Dr. Krill floated quietly on the bridge in the sallow yellow light of an ambient star cluster. Commander Vir sat Stiff and rigid in his seat. His single green eyes glinting with a fine filmy layer of reflected mucus glinting with the pale sickly yellow of that pallid light. The rest of the bridge was unusually silent many silhouettes holding bated breath expressions dark as the unexpected transmission warbled over the line.

It came in sibilat whispers, gurgles and and the distant sounds of guttural wailing crackling backwards into the maddening chatter of static.

Krill examined in mild fascination as tiny hairs, like detached spider legs erupted upwards on the man's skin. The delicate hairs glittered in response to the insipid, sensuous caress of waxen light down the man's protruding spine delicate mounds and bumps of bone just visible through the back of his shirt.

The man's skin had gone ashen like that of a bloated corpse decaying in a static pool of water.

"Can anyone understand any of that." The man demanded, and despite its strength his voice fell flat crushed and squeezed with the weight of the air around them.

"I'll try to clean it up sir."

The transmission had begun without premonition. One moment they had been floating quietly through the vast nothingness of space, and next, they had been bedeviled by this Insidious cacophony of voices that seemed human, though individual words could not discerned.

Under the pressing weight of those horrific voices, the bridge remained hushed as the communications officer attempted to untangle the message.

A shadow fell over the Commander's back, and a set of three tallenous fingers came slithering down over his shoulder to rest against his clammy skin. Sunny lingered at the Commander's shoulder luminous golden eyes fixed upon the speakers which still crooned that gastly whispering.

"I think I have it, Sir." The woman stammered

"Alright then, let's hear it."

There was a long moment of silence, like the catatonia that follows psychosis.

"Help, please.... Anyone.... Please help. This is , colony transport.... 331.... Out of fuel..... Running low on food..... The lights... gone out..... eating ..... Can't stop... requesting help."

The chattering began again in earnest rising upwards upwards upwards until a crescendo, until the room was filled with it's warbling madness,

"STOP!" The transmission cut and the lascivious whispers died. Commander Vir stood from his chair, "That's enough." He finished softly, "Someone take a look in the database for a civilian transport with that flag ID." He stabbed a finger at their radar technician, "Do you see anything."

The woman stammered for a moment, spun in her seat and scanned wide unblinking eyes over her console, "Uh ... y-yes sir, I have something, not very far at all, its small, about the size of a colony transport."