The Black Side of Sol
August 14, 2025
When the anomaly first appeared near Mercury’s orbit, the astronomers called it a shadow with no source.
Now, three weeks later, Captain Marek Solis and the crew of the Vanguard were ordered to enter it.
“It’s just a patch of space,” said Pilot Iriya Cho, squinting at the display. “No heat signature, no radiation, no gravity well. How does a shadow exist without something casting it?”
Dr. Lenn, the ship’s physicist, tapped the console. “It’s not a shadow. It’s an absence—of everything, including spacetime. We’re looking at a wound.”
Marek kept his voice steady. “Then let’s see what’s bleeding.”
As they crossed the perimeter, all starlight vanished. The hull lights illuminated only a few meters before dissolving into thick blackness.
“Navigation’s blind,” Iriya reported. “No landmarks, no readings. Just… void.”
Something ticked in Marek’s earpiece—like an old clock. “Lenn, what is that?”
Lenn’s face paled. “It’s coming from inside the ship.”
The ticking grew louder, then changed—becoming a slow, deliberate knocking.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
From the airlock.
Marek drew his sidearm and motioned for Iriya to seal the cockpit. He and Lenn crept toward the sound. The airlock control showed no pressure change, no movement outside.
Then the knocking stopped.
A voice, muffled but clear, said: “Open up. You’re late.”
“Who’s there?” Marek demanded.
“Your relief,” the voice said calmly.
Lenn whispered, “There’s nothing out there, Captain. No heat trace, no EM signal.”
“Open it,” Marek ordered.
The outer door cycled with a hiss. The inner door opened… and someone stepped in.
It was Marek Solis.
Iriya’s voice crackled over comms. “Captain… there are two of you on my scanner.”
The newcomer smiled faintly. “I told you. I’m your relief. You’ve been on duty too long.”
The real Marek raised his weapon. “Explain yourself.”
“You entered the wound,” the double said, “and it made a copy. I’m what you look like when you leave.”
“That’s impossible,” Lenn muttered.
The double ignored him. “You can’t survive here. I take your place, carry your memories, finish your mission.”
“And me?” Marek asked.
“You stay,” the double said simply. “Everything stays here. That’s the rule.”
Marek’s grip tightened on his weapon. “Not happening.”
The double sighed. “It’s not a choice.”
The lights flickered. Gravity shifted. Lenn stumbled as the floor seemed to tilt, though the ship’s structure didn’t move.
Iriya screamed over comms. “There are three of you now—two on the bridge!”
Marek sprinted back to the cockpit.
Standing beside Iriya was another Iriya—identical down to the scar on her cheek.
“She says she’s the one who belongs here,” the copy said, grinning.
Lenn’s voice came over comms, shaking. “Captain… they’re multiplying.”
“How many?” Marek demanded.
“…Every time we look away from each other, there’s another one.”
The doubles began speaking in unison. “You can’t leave without us. We are you. And this place keeps what it copies.”
Marek realized the truth: the anomaly didn’t destroy ships—it replaced them. Crews went in, and their shadows came out.
“Helm—full burn out of here,” Marek ordered.
The real Iriya hesitated. “How do you know I’m me?”
Marek stared at her. “I don’t. I just have to hope.”
The Vanguard surged forward. The blackness fought them—space felt thick, like pushing through oil. More copies appeared in the corridors, crowding the viewports, all smiling faintly.
“You’ll be back,” they said in perfect chorus. “Everyone comes back.”
Light burst ahead. Stars reappeared. The ship cleared the wound.
Only three people stood on the bridge: Marek, Iriya, and Lenn.
For days, no one spoke of what happened.
Then, a week later, Marek woke in his quarters to the sound of ticking.
Coming from inside his own chest.