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That was the only sound that filled the small observation room that Mining Foreman Kirk Garcez found himself languishing in, the noise emanating from the keypad he mindlessly padded at with his fingers, each holokey making a low-bit ping noise every time he pressed on it. He was bored out of his mind, tired from the day’s excavation prep. They had pretty much dug out the rock, enough to build a small observation area that the big brains wanted for “verification of authenticity.” The very sentence brought a huff to Garcez’s lips.

“Authenticity…” he mocked aloud.

“We’re in the middle of goddamned space, for crying out loud. Big space rock found on a dead moon nobody’s been on? Pretty authentic if you ask me.”

Garcez leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head, giving his hands a momentary release from their typing duties. Filling out requisition forms was nobody’s favorite pastime, but rather than stick some poor guy under his crew with the duty—he took it on himself. If nothing else, he’d get overtime pay.

He was about to settle back in for another volley of forms sent to the supply depot, when he found himself staring at the gloomy redness of the stone outside again. The sheer size alone commanded attention to the rock, something Garcez has been acutely aware of since its full excavation. It wasn’t normal—that much was certain—and he hated looking at it. The shape was looming, twin peaks of strange rock intwining, almost like a helix, the two points at the top nearly touching. It reminded him of devil horns, of the stories his mother would tell him as a child. Stories of the terrible deals made to the king of hell, and how men so readily sell their souls for power. He shuddered thinking about it. The deep red of the rock’s surface seemed to almost glow; but to tired eyes, anything could glow as far as Garcez was concerned. He’d never been completely religious, but if there was a hell—he was certain that thing wouldn’t be out of place in it.

With effort, he wrested his gaze from the huge eyesore and back to his computer, only to gasp and lean back slightly in startled bewilderment—

Somehow, on his holographic monitor, a series of symbols had been typed in place of the words he had written down on the form, strange symbols that, upon a closer look, looked like the ones on the rock outside.

“Christ. What—" Garcez rubbed his eyes, only to see that the screen had turned back to normal. Where there once were symbols, now sat the previous message of “4 Crawlers for transport of materials.” He sighed; nothing weird, he was probably just tired. Ever since he’d been assigned to this dig site, he and some other miners complained about a lack of proper rest. Some nights, he was lucky enough to get a wink of sleep, and the sleep he usually got wasn’t restful.

Garcez—shaken, but undeterred—continued his work on the forms, the keypad pinging and tapping away as he guided his fingers along its keys, like a pianist would a piano. His mother used to play piano for him and his brother when they were young. A musician at heart, but miner by trade, a lifetime of hard labor claimed her health and her life when he had just turned 25. Garcez told people he was fine, that he was doing well—and it was true for the most part—but a nagging voice in the back of his mind told him that it still bothered him. A nagging voice that persisted even now, at age 34, as he sits in his chair and flips through his RIG’s interface for music he had saved for nights like these.

“Kirk.”

Garcez flung up from his seat and turned around in a panic, his mouth gasping out a yelp in response to the voice that came from behind him.

Nobody was in the cabin, nothing was moved or touched, and the door was still locked. Empty, like it had been for the past 3 hours. Despite this, Garcez searched the cabin, flicking on his shoulder lamp to luminate the shadowed corners of the room. Nothing was there that wasn’t already there, and Garcez breathed a sigh of relief that slowly turned into a soft, short chuckle.

“Dios Mio, no more late-night horror vids.” He muttered as he sauntered back to his desk, his nerves still firing from that surprise. Once again, he found his eyes at the window, but he didn’t see what he was expecting to see. What he saw set his slowly calming nerves right back into overdrive, as fear crept up his spine.

A figure glided just out of view, behind the rock. He couldn’t make out any details, but the figure was unmistakably real, real enough to Garcez. Whoever was out there was breaching protocol and trespassing. Garcez opened up his RIGLink and hailed the Planetside Security Office.

“Foreman Garcez here, we got a situation down at Excav Site 3B. Potential trespasser on premises, I just saw someone walk behind the ‘Marker’ or whatever its called. Acknowledge?”

A few seconds later, a woman dressed in a P-Sec uniform appeared on the vidscreen, although the screen was glitching and full of static.

“We---an’t hear--ou. Pos—ble---nterf--------lease stand -y…” The RIGLink cut with an unceremonious electronic whistle, synonymous with the RIG’s “transmission end” sound effect.

Garcez cursed under his breath. He didn’t want to go out there, every bone in his body was screaming that something was wrong, but if something was stolen it was on him, and getting fired wasn’t something he was exactly keen on, so he grabbed a broken lightpole and set out of the small office cabin and into the dreary night.

                The door hissed closed behind him as he heard the click of the electronic lock engage. Every noise made his grip on his improvised weapon tighten, as his breathing became heavier and his feet carried him closer to the intruder’s last-seen spot. He felt small under the looming size of the Marker, seeming almost fluorescent in the light cast by the floods positioned around the dig site. 

He shook his head quickly from side to side, shaking the nerves away and steeling himself for whatever he may encounter. As he drew nearer and nearer to the rock, he began to hear the faintest of sounds, sounds that soon became whispers. Someone had to be behind there. He braced against the rock, but as soon as his back touched it, a loud voice sent him falling forward.

“KIRK!”

He hit the ground hard, his head slamming against the Marker as he tumbled forward, unconscious.

“Kirk? Are you there, sweetie?” A soft, considerate voice asked in the darkness.

Garcez was coming to, his eyes slowly opening to a blue glow in front of him, and as the world came into focus, that blurry cloud took a shape—a hand. He was confused at first, but the voice spoke again, and his worry became replaced with shock. “Mijo, can you hear me? It’s no good to lay on the ground, you’ll get all dirty!”

Garcez looked up at the aged visage of his mother, a glowing blue-white light made up her body, bathing him in a cool blue glow that seemed to numb any pain he was presently feeling.

“M-Mom?? But, t-that’s impossible.. You’re—"

“Dead?” His mother gave him a warm smile. “You are right, Mijo, but not completely.”

Garcez was bewildered. “I must be dreaming.”

“This is real, Kirk. You know it’s true. This has brought me back to you.” His mother gestured a ghostly hand to the Marker, its symbols glowing an ominous red.

“The…The Marker? No, its just a rock, it couldn’t possibly do that…” Garcez was having trouble wrapping his head around it, but his mother gently caressed his shoulder with one hand.

“You must believe, Mijo, trust in god, and he will provide…” Garcez felt compelled to touch the stone, the symbols pulsed with an energy he could feel in the air, growing intense by the second.

“You’ve been alone for so long now, dear. You’ve felt fractured, like pieces of you are missing…we can fix that..” His mother doted softly. Something about all this felt very wrong, but Garcez couldn’t help but reach for the surface of the Marker. It was calling to him.

“Embrace it, my dear.” His hands reached ever closer to the stone, his gloved fingers brushing against the smooth surface. His mother’s voice suddenly changed to multiple voices speaking at once in different pitches and volumes: “Embrace us, and we will make you whole.”

As his palm came to rest on the surface, Garcez screamed in pain as a high pitched whine rattled in his mind. Flashes of symbols, horrific visions, and his mother’s rotting face raced through his brain as he crumbled to the ground, clutching his head and screaming. The voices were sonorous now, unrelenting:

“MAKE US WHOLE.”
“MAKE US WHOLE.”

“MAKE US WHOLE.”

                P-Sec officer Brandon Willis made his way down the roughly-carved pathway to the dig site with Pit Boss Marvin Callisto and another officer, the rocks crunching under their boots.

“We got the call a few hours ago but nobody’s gotten a follow-up call from him.” Said Brandon, thumbing the button keeping his Divet holstered.

“Yeah, comms get spotty out here, we’re not sure why. Though I’m sure the Uni asshats in the public sector have plenty to say about it being some stupid ‘divine’ bullshit. Anyways, its just down here.” Callisto chuffs as he leads the officers to the clearing. The Marker’s shine gleams in the light of the orange sun as the trio inch closer to the dig site.

“There, right up front. That your guy?” The other officer says, pointing at a motionless Garcez.

He’s stood in front of the Marker, milling about aimlessly, looking beyond tiredness and with dried blood caking the side of his head. He shudders with every small step his foot makes, looking as though he’ll topple over any second.

Callisto is taken aback. He’s never seen anyone like this before, especially not someone as level-headed as Garcez. “Christ, what’s wrong with him??... Garcez?” He steps toward him, the officers following close behind with hands on their holsters. As they draw closer, the trio hears a low mumbling coming from Garcez, unintelligible. Callisto moves forward with purpose and gently clasps his hands on Garcez’s shoulders.

“THEY CAN’T MAKE ME DO IT!! THEY CAN’T..” Garcez shrieks with a start, flailing about slightly in a panic but slowly calming down when he sees the Pit Boss. Crying, he sinks to his knees, muttering the same words over and over.

Callisto looks to the officers. “For god’s sake, get a med team out here NOW.”

For Garcez, everything around him is drowned out. The words are all he can hear now, all he sees when he closes his eyes.

“Make us whole.”

Make us whole.

Make us whole.