Whispers of the Hive
25 Nov 2024Rawnu
Mars is a world reborn, its red deserts long buried under engineered blue skies and sprawling green plains. From here, aboard Mars High, the planet looks almost peaceful—a cradle of human history transformed into a model of Federation ambition. Yet I can’t shake the feeling that this place is anything but calm. The Sol Workers’ Party has welcomed me as an operative with cautious optimism. They don’t ask many questions, and I don’t offer many answers. It’s easier that way. My role here is covert, don't ask don't tell, avoiding Mother Gaia’s watchful eyes. It keeps my hands busy, but my mind... that’s another matter. That damned Galnet article! I can’t stop thinking about Seo Jin-ae. Her warnings about the Thargoid hive mind’s “tone” shifting echo louder with each passing day. She says they’re learning, adapting, probing into who we are. I’ve spent years managing my hyperspace condition, thinking it was just a quirk of my physiology—a burden to endure. Now I’m not so sure.
The memories of Triton still haunt me. The methane ice ridges, the ghostly lights, the overwhelming sense that I wasn’t alone. They feel so vivid, yet the records show nothing. No breaches, no evidence I was ever there. At Jameson Memorial, I searched for answers, but the silence in the data felt more like a door slammed shut than a dead end.
Seo’s words have unsettled something deep within me. If the Thargoids are truly shifting their approach—if they can reach into our minds as Seo seems to believe—how would we even know? My doubts about Triton, the gaps in my memory... what if they’re not mine at all? Mila tried to reassure me before I left Jameson. She said my condition might simply be worsening under stress, that the mind can be its own worst enemy. But even she couldn’t dismiss the possibility of outside interference. The whispers at the edges of my thoughts, the pressure that feels almost sentient—it’s too much to ignore.
I’ve chosen to keep this to myself. The Sol Workers’ Party is focused on their fight, and they don’t need my doubts clouding their efforts. Here at Mars High, they see me as another pilot lending a hand in the battle against Mother Gaia’s dominance. That’s fine with me. I’m not here to be noticed. But even here, among allies, I feel the isolation growing. Late at night, when the station hum fades to a low murmur, I catch myself staring out at the planet below, wondering how much of me is still truly mine. Is this doubt the doing of someone else? And is that someone lese human or... am I just chasing shadows in my own mind?
Seo Jin-ae doesn’t know me, and I don’t know her, but I feel a connection all the same. Her warnings feel personal, as though they were meant for people like me—people who’ve seen the edges of the galaxy and come back changed. I wonder if she feels as alone as I do, carrying the weight of something the rest of humanity barely understands. Mars High feels like a temporary shelter, a distraction from the questions I can’t answer. The Sol Workers’ Party keeps me grounded for now, their purpose clear even as mine grows more uncertain. But the whispers don’t stop. Seo’s words don’t fade. And the shadows of Triton, real or imagined, refuse to leave me.
This terraformed world spins beneath me, lush and green where it was once barren and red. Humanity may have reshaped this planet, but I can’t help but feel that something far greater is trying to reshape us. The galaxy doesn’t wait for clarity, and neither can I.