Horror Story 2955 — Static Beneath Hades

Log of Laira Rez — Systems Engineer, UEEV Vara

27 October 2557 — Orbit, Hades II

We arrived over Hades II in the dim light of an ancient sun.

The surface below was a graveyard — ashen plains, shattered towers, remnants of a civilization that tore itself apart.

Captain Heptane stood on the bridge, staring at the readings from our long-range scanners.

“We are the first humans to look down upon this world,” she said.

“Let’s see what secrets it left behind.”

I wish she hadn’t.

03:10

Initial sweeps of the Hadesian ruins came back inconclusive — no active power, no heat.

Yet our sensors kept returning faint pulses beneath the surface.

Patterns too regular to be geological.

I reran the diagnostics three times.

The results were identical.

03:27

A low vibration moved through the hull.

Not turbulence. Not thrust imbalance.

Something deeper — almost like breath.

The Vara’s power plant surged.

The stabilizers fluctuated without input.

The AI flagged it as resonant interference.

03:41

The bridge ordered a full-frequency scan of the planet’s crust.

I warned them — our instruments weren’t calibrated for that amplitude.

They did it anyway.

The transmission went out.

And the planet replied.

Every console on the deck flared bright green.

Symbols scrolled across the nav display — glyphs no one recognized.

The hum in the hull became a tremor.

The Vara shuddered, as though something enormous beneath the planet had awakened.

I ran for engineering.

Half the lights were out, the rest flickering.

The deck under my boots rippled like stretched metal.

Then came the sound — soft, almost human.

A voice whispering through the static of the comms:

“We see you.”

03:58

Bulkheads groaned.

A seam split open down corridor seven.

Through it I saw pale stone walls and carvings glowing with green light — the same hue as the readouts.

The Vara’s frame twisted inward.

Systems screamed warnings I’d never seen before.

The voice came again, louder:

“You found us. Now stay.”

I tried to shut down the core.

The console refused.

My override codes vanished mid-entry, replaced by those same alien symbols.

Then silence.

The deck stilled.

My heart hammered.

The only light left came from the planet below, pulsing faintly through the viewport.

The Captain’s voice broke through, fragmented by static:

“Engineering… don’t… it’s inside…”

That was the last thing I heard.

The Vara never transmitted again.

No wreckage was recovered.

No beacon.

No debris.

Only this log, recovered decades later from a ghost transmission near the Hades System — drifting through empty space every year on the same date.

If you hear it, heed my warning:

When your ship hums without reason — when the stars flicker green — cut power.

Do not scan the surface.

Do not answer the voice.

Because beneath the silence,

beneath Hades,

there is only static —

and the Vara, still listening.

End of Log.