The air in the cockpit was unnaturally still, save for the steady hum of the starship’s engine. Commander Lila Trevane sat in the captain’s chair, staring into the abyss of the galaxy stretched out before her. Glittering stars twinkled faintly in the distance, but the Kestral IV wasn’t headed for anything remotely beautiful. Not this time.
“Report,” she barked, her voice laced with exhaustion, but sharp enough to cut the silence.
“Entering the Exile Zone in approximately ten minutes,” replied Theo Sorrell from the navigation console. His voice was steady, though his fingers trembled slightly as they dragged across the holographic controls. “Radiation levels are holding steady for now. But if the field collapses, there won’t be enough shields in the galaxy to save us.”
The crew of the Kestral IV had faced impossible odds before, but this mission was different. The Exile Zone wasn’t just a prohibited space—it was where ships either disappeared entirely or returned with mangled hulks and no trace of their crews. Still, the mission called for them to go in. And every one of them knew why.
Somewhere in the shattered void ahead was Project Luminaris, the single piece of experimental tech that could reverse the genetic breakdown ravaging Earth’s population. It was humanity’s last hope—or so the brass claimed. The chatter on the lower decks told a different story. Rumors that the Exile Zone was haunted. That the voices of lost crews lingered, wailing over the subspace comms like ghosts in the machine.
A Voice from the Shadows
“Lila.”
The whisper was faint, almost lost in the background hum of the engines. Lila whipped her head around. No one else seemed to notice. She wanted to write it off—stress, fatigue—but something about the tone made her skin crawl.
“Did anyone else hear that?” she asked, frozen in place.
Ensign Connor shrugged, glancing up from his diagnostics station. “Ma’am, everything’s normal on this end.”
Lila turned back to the viewport. For the briefest moment, something shimmered there—just outside the translucent field of their deflectors. A shape. A shadow. And then it was gone.
The Price of Secrets
Moments later, the ship lurched violently. Alarms flared, red lights pulsating across the cabin. Theo cursed under his breath, stabilizing the ship’s trajectory as best he could.
“Status!” Lila shouted, gripping the arm of her chair.
“Something’s interfering with the nav drive!” Theo replied, his voice tight. “We’re still holding course, but whatever it is—”
Lila didn’t wait for him to finish. She reached for the intercom. “Engineering, what the hell is going on down there?”
At first, there was static. Then a voice crackled through. No—it was multiple voices, overlapping, distorted, and inhumanly hollow.
“Return… or suffer.”
The voices cut out as abruptly as they came. Lila’s blood ran cold.
“Was that a threat?” Connor asked, his fingers anxiously tapping along his station’s edge. He tried to laugh, but it came out uneven and hollow. “Because it didn’t sound human.”
“No,” Lila whispered. “No, it didn’t.”
A Fatal Discovery
The Kestral IV pressed on into the Exile Zone despite the warnings. Every inch further into the void felt heavier, the oppressive silence broken only by occasional bursts of the eerie subspace whispers. The crew began to bicker over trivialities—minor disagreements exploding into full-blown arguments. Lila’s attempts to quell the tension became increasingly futile.
It only got worse when they found the derelict. What remained of the starship Olympia floated lifelessly in their path, its hull gouged and scarred, as if torn by massive claws.
“Captain,” Theo said quietly, “I’m picking up life signs.”
Lila hesitated. “That can’t be possible.”
“They’re faint, but they’re there.”
Reluctantly, Lila ordered a boarding party. She and Theo crossed into the ghost ship, their suits’ lights cutting through the thick, dark interior. The Olympia stank of death and decay, its corridors eerily still. Somewhere behind them, a faint, lilting hum began to echo. A song—soft, melancholy, and haunting.
“Do you hear that?” Theo asked.
Lila nodded, her throat tight. “It’s not real. Stay focused.”
They reached what appeared to be the Olympia’s command deck. At its center was a single figure, strapped into the captain’s chair, unmoving. Its helmet was adorned with scratches that formed a crude spiral. As Lila stepped closer, the figure moved. Not its body—just its head, which turned ever so slightly to face her.
“You shouldn’t have come,” it rasped, its voice impossibly layered, as if it were speaking in a dozen different languages at once.
The Last Breath
The rest happened in a blur. The whispers in Lila’s mind grew deafening, nearly crushing her thoughts into incoherence. Theo screamed, tearing off his helmet, clutching his ears. And then—it all stopped.
When Lila came to, she was back on the Kestral IV. Alone. There were no whispers, no song, no Theo. Her crew was gone. Only the endless, consuming silence of the Exile Zone remained.
She glanced at the ship’s controls, her reflection staring back at her in the blank screen. Her trembling hands reached for the comms panel, broadcasting a desperate plea into the static void.
“This is Commander Lila Trevane of the Kestral IV,” she whispered. “Is anyone out there?”
Silence was her only reply.
The End?
Days turned to weeks. Lila’s transmissions went unanswered. Yet, every so often, she swore she heard whispers on the edge of sleep—a faint, familiar voice calling her name. The Exile Zone wasn’t just a graveyard of ships. It was something far worse. And now, it had one more soul to claim.
The source…check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: The One Look Everyone’s Obsessed with This Fall
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