New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

Urle’s presence was keenly missed.  Brooks wished he could have his view on the situation they presently found themselves in.

But he was not cleared to be bringing Urle into the decision-making, and he wold not bring the man back on-duty before he was ready.  He needed time to cope and to talk with Verena.  Their separation years ago had been devastating for both him and his children.

So now it was Dr. Y who stood in his office with him, waiting for Brooks to speak.  Along with Arn Logus.

Brooks had not spoken yet, because he had not yet figured out why Dr. Logus was here as well.  He was not looking to the man, only to Y.

“I was under the impression that we were not to tell anyone outside of our meeting of this,” Brooks said to Y, breaking the stillness of the room.

The psychiatrist watched him, but said nothing.

“I can assure you, Captain,” Y said, “that Dr. Urle will accept his presence.  And given our current circumstances, I believed it was best to get as many minds working as possible.”

“Why?” Brooks demanded with a frown.  But before Y could answer, the Captain looked to Logus.  “Have you been in communication with Verena?”

“Yes, Captain,” Logus replied.

“Why?” Brooks demanded.

Logus stared back at him in silence.  The tension thickened, and Brooks felt a fleeting anger rise up in him.

Logus spoke.  “Dr. Urle contacted me – about you, Captain.  She wished to know my psychological evaluation before she spoke to you about Michal Denso.  And yes, Captain, she informed me of the details – and has updated me with the events of earlier today.”

Brooks leaned back in his chair, taking that in.

“What was the nature of the information you gave her about me?” he asked.

“I am not at liberty to tell you, Captain.”

“Surely Verena had specific questions.  She wasn’t just trying to learn what kind of man I am, Logus, she knew me for years.  She served under me, and I know that her memories are fully intact.”

“Captain – I am ordering you to drop this line of questioning,” Logus said.

Brooks’s face went still.  Dangerously so.  He leaned forward, but said nothing.

“I out-rank you, Captain,” Logus said.  “You command the ship, and I cannot question it, but my rank is equivalent to a-“

“I know what your rank is,” Brooks answered coldly.  “Do you think I am asking you because of my pride, Doctor?  Because I want to know what is being whispered about me behind my back?”

“I would not presume to-“

“I am asking, Doctor, because what you have told her will affect what I am able to do going forward.  If you will not tell me – so be it.  But you are only making a dangerous situation more difficult.”

“With respects, Captain, while Denso’s fate is no minor matter, it does not seem to be excessively dangerous,” Logus replied.

Dr. Y spoke. “I somewhat agree, Captain.  Is there a reason you feel this is such an urgent matter beyond the obvious?”

“Yes,” Brooks replied.  “After what has occurred, I am convinced that this is a matter that extends beyond the scope of Michal Denso’s life alone.”

“May I ask your reasoning, Captain?” Y queried.

He nodded.  “Firstly, Apollonia Nor’s reaction.  This is a woman who is not afraid to die – she was seriously considering being executed over coming with us.  She also met Kell, and had no significant reaction to his presence, at least not comparable to what occurred when she first boarded the Chain.”

“She’s a Cerebral Reader,” Logus said.  “She may simply have felt the suffering of the most afflicted on this station.  Similar things have happened before.”

“And even more dramatic occurrences happen when a CR encounters a Leviathan unprepared,” Brooks replied.  “They may protect others with their mere presence, but they are more vulnerable.  And her reaction?  It struck me as this, not simply sensing suffering.”

Logus sat back, frowning and saying no more.

Dr. Y’s head tilted to the side, quizzically.  “That seems a significant jump in logic, Captain.  Is there more?”

“I have also spoken to Ambassador Kell following the incident.  I will duly inform Verena of what transpired, but it was the Ambassador’s words that made me put it together.  He said that Denso has been reborn, and that the home he wishes to return to is the Terris system.”

Dr. Y recoiled.  “Are you saying, Captain, that you believe Michal Denso is becoming a Leviathan?”

“I can’t be sure, not on what I know.  But I think that it is a real possibility.  We know nothing about their life-cycles, reproduction.  For all we know, this is how Leviathans create more of their kind.  And if that is the case here, that Denso is . . . becoming a young one of their kind, then he is a threat to the entirety of the Chain and this ship.”

“There has never been a case like this-” Logus began.

“That we know of,” Brooks commented.

“We cannot start treating Michal Denso as a threat!” the psychiatrist insisted.

“I do not intend to do that until I know more.  But we must learn more – hopefully in order to rule it out.  We have to know what is going on at Terris,” Brooks said.

Y spoke.  “I do not believe that the Terris Observation Authority will share its data with us in a timely fashion, Captain.  All observations and data collected from the system are carefully filtered before dissemination can occur.  Even I am not allowed to-“

“I know,” Brooks replied, cutting the doctor off.  “But I do not plan to ask the TOA.”  He turned his seat, looking at the backdrop of stars behind him.  “I plan to send a mission to the Terris system so we can see for ourselves.”

“Captain!” Logus burst out, standing.  “You cannot be serious!”

“I have chosen Response Team One for the task,” Brooks continued.

Logus calmed himself.  “This cannot be an option, Captain.  There are rules and regulations about this-“

“We don’t have time for that,” Brooks replied quietly.  “And while you may outrank me, Dr. Logus, you are not privy to the same directives I am.”

He turned his chair around.  “I am enacting Emergency Action Command 1 to authorize this mission.”

Logus was silent, confusion skirting across his face.

Dr. Y spoke.  “Under Emergency Action Command 1, Captain Brooks is entitled to take whatever action he deems necessary, short of starting a war, to ensure the continued safety of a population numbering over 100 million.”

“On behalf of The Chain?” Logus asked, horror on his face.  “Are you going to even consult with Admiral-Doctor Urle on this?”

“No,” Brooks said.  “She lacks the trained personnel to launch such an expedition – we are uniquely suited, and thus I am making the decision myself.”

“Uniquely suited?  What does that even mean, Captain?” Logus demanded.

Brooks regarded him, anger now on his face.  “You do not get to question the Captain of this vessel in this manner, Doctor.”

“I still have medical override authorization for any mission I deem to be psychologically unsafe, Captain,” Logus challenged him back.  “And when it comes to a mission to Terris, it absolutely falls within my purview.”

Brooks’s face had gone stony, hiding the anger that still simmered under the surface.  “Response Team One has significant experience in hazardous contact with altered areas.  I can think of few I would trust more with such a task.”

“You mean they’ve been victimized almost as often as you have by having to encounter Leviathan-altered space!  Captain, that does not make people more qualified, it puts them at greater psychological risk-“

“They are all volunteers, Doctor.  They know they risk their lives, and I do not send them into harm’s way without a very good reason.  We need to know if something has changed around Terris – we must get a handle on the Denso situation before it escalates to something that threatens the entire Chain.”

“You can’t,” Logus said.  “I move to object on medical safety grounds.”

“As part of of Emergency Action Command 1, it takes at least two medical officers of Commander rank or higher to countermand an order.”  Brooks looked to Dr. Y.  “Doctor, how do you vote?”

Logus likewise looked to the machine.  “You can’t allow this, Y.  You know this is madness.”

Brooks had never seen the AI look so uncomfortable; his face had no ability to express emotion, and yet his head moved with small, swift jerks to look between them.

He felt bad for putting the doctor into such a situation, but at the same time; Dr. Y was relatively new to the Craton.  And as much as Brooks admired and appreciated the Ehni doctor, he did not know how much he could trust him.

Best to find out now.

The machine’s head moved from Logus to Brooks and stopped.  “Use of this directive is extremely difficult to defend if questioned, Captain.  Are you certain you wish to do this?”

“I am,” Brooks replied calmly.

Y replied promptly.  “Then I have no objections, Captain.  In this matter, I trust your judgment.”

“Then the mission goes forward,” Brooks said.  “It will depart in two hours.”

“Captain, at least give them longer to prepare,” Logus said.

“You have no more say in this, Doctor,” Brooks snapped back.  “Your objections are noted, considered, and rejected.  The mission will leave in two hours because time is of the essence.”

Logus’s face had returned to calm.  “It seems that you will get your way, Captain.  Would you like to order me to tell you what I told Verena under this command as well?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Brooks replied coldly.  “But I forbid you to speak of this to Dr. Urle, and to have no contact with her at all until after the mission has left.”

Logus’s face had become equally cold, and he offered in return only a single minimal nod.

---

< Ep 3 Part 19 | Ep 3 Part 21 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

His stomach felt tied in knots as he signaled his arrival.

Standing outside the door of Verena’s cabin, Urle wished that he could numb himself to the emotions that coursed through him.

It was a terrible thought to have, precisely because it was how Verena actually suffered.  But all the same, it hurt so much to see her again.  It never stopped hurting, but most of the time the pain had grown to such a dull thing in the background that he’d learned to cope.

Right now he was struggling.

“Enter,” he heard through the comm as the door opened smoothly for him.

He stepped in, his eyes sweeping the room for signs of life.  Life beyond the basic functions.

Back in the day, Verena had been . . . tidy, but she’d loved to keep things.  Mementos, old paper books, even some things that she just collected.

God, she’d had a massive collection of weird little kitschy sculptures from the Moon that he’d thought so ugly . . .

Her room now was almost bare.  There were no books, no memorbilia, and certainly no collectible moon sculptures.

“Verena,” he said, his eyes falling upon her.  She sat on a couch, a pad on her lap.  She was looking at him, her expression – of course – neutral.

“It is good to see you Zach,” she said.  It was a stretch to say it felt like she meant it.  They were only the words she knew to be appropriate.

“Same for you,” he lied.  A half-lie, at least.  He was happy to see her on some level.

“I am glad you came.  I considered if it might be best if you did not,” she said.

That felt like a stab in his gut, but he pushed past it.  “Why is that?”

She stared at him as if he’d said something surprising.  “I am not going to be different than the last time we spoke.  I know that it was difficult for you.  But you still wish to try to communicate, and that is a brave thing, Zachariah.”

Since her change she’d been capable of lying all-but perfectly.  No biophysical changes at telling a falsehood.  He hoped she was being truthful.

“You said you wanted to talk to me,” he said.

“But that you were free to refuse,” she replied.  “However, as I said, it is good you have come.  There is something important I wish to discuss – but first, I would like to know how you are doing.”

Zach realized he was still standing awkwardly.  “Mind if I sit?”

“Of course not.”

He did so, still feeling on-edge.  She still looked the same; just colder.  Like a replica of the woman he’d loved.

“I think you know how I’m doing,” he replied.  “You probably read my file.  I haven’t had any major injuries.”

“Yes, but I believe I would like to hear from you how you are doing – not just physically, but emotionally.”  Her words were so cold that had he not known better it would have felt mocking.

“All right,” he said.

“Your psych records suggests you are still grieving, Zach,” she said.

“Have you looked at all my files?” he asked.

“I requested permission, but was unable to view them as it was private.  However, I did not need to read them, only see that they did in fact exist to confirm that you were grieving.”

“You saw the file sizes,” he realized.  “That was all you needed to see to know.”

“Yes,” she replied.  “I apologize for even this minor invasion of your privacy – but I had hoped you could have moved on by now.”  Something went across her face – a change from neutral to troubled concentration.  “I have been informed it was unlikely for you to have left behind your emotional . . . baggage regarding me.”

His emotions must have shown, because when she looked at him she spoke again quickly.  “I do not mean to be blithe about it, Zach.  I only wish the best for you.  I can no longer understand what it is you feel, but I do not wish for you to suffer.”

Zach found his throat was dry, and he tried to come up with words, but failed.  He just nodded.

He felt sure she meant all of it.

“Have you continued on your path towards leaving behind your biological body?” she asked.

“My transhumanism?  Well, I wouldn’t say I want to fully stop being biological.  But I’ve had only a couple of augments over the last few years.  I’ve been busy – with the girls, with my duties.  It doesn’t leave a lot of time for getting surgeries.”

She was studying his face.  “I do not recognize your current facial pieces.  I imagine just new attachments?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“Remove them, would you?” she asked, leaning forward.  She took the pad and set it on a small table.

“Why?” he asked.  Nevertheless, he moved to oblige her request, disconnecting the external pieces and popping them off.

By the time he was done, he knew he looked more like a mere man than almost anyone had seen of him in years.  Connectors built into his skull still showed a hint of his truth, but his eyes, his nose, his lips – all of it was visible.

“I recall your eyes being much more blue,” she replied.

“I haven’t changed those,” he told her.

“Perhaps I was mistaken,” she said.  Her voice was softer, and he saw that she was trying.

Her hand came up, reaching for his face.  She cupped his cheek in her hand, and he felt the warmth of her skin.

The last time she’d done that had been before he’d left the Kilimanjaro, over seven years ago.  They hadn’t known how serious a goodbye they’d be saying at that time – neither of them had known yet that the Terris system was in danger, that their ship would be sent.  That she wouldn’t be returning whole.

“What do you feel?” he asked.

“Only your skin,” she replied.  She couldn’t feel enough to even know how sad she should be, he knew.  But she had told him before she could remember that she should feel the loss.

Her hand slid away from his face, and the air of the room felt cold where she had touched him.

She looked away as he put back on his attachments, hiding his face again.

“It is not fair to you, Zach, that you should have to raise our daughters alone,” she said.

“We agreed it was for the best,” he replied.  “They . . . did not react well to you after your changes.  We feared it would lead to more problems.”

“I have wondered since if we were wrong,” she replied.  “Even if I can’t feel anything, I can at least be there.  I would be someone to assist when you are busy.”

Zach didn’t know what to say to that.  It was true that having someone else to help would be good, but . . .

Her?  After all this time?  When there was nothing, literally no love left?  Coming from one side it meant nothing, less than nothing.  Love had to be reciprocated to be worth anything.

“I don’t know,” he finally said.  “Verena, I . . .”

“Don’t make a decision right now,” she said.  “I know it is a sudden idea.  But it’s something I wanted to tell you in person.  I wanted to show you that even though I don’t feel anything, I am trying to learn how to . . . for lack of a better word, behave as if I do.”

That sent him into more of a spiral.  Had she even been trying to accomplish anything when she’d touched his face?  Or just make him think she was?

“I would like you to think about it, is all.  For the good of Hannah and Persis.  I know it will be difficult in the short term, very difficult – but it may also be a very good move for everyone.”

“Are you sure you would have the time?  And . . . how would it work?  You’re running the medical wing of this station.  You must be busy all the time.”

“I am busy,” she replied.  “But besides my work . . . I have nothing.”  She gestured around her room.  “As you can see.”

“Why do you want this?” he asked.

“It isn’t about me, Zach,” she told him.  “It’s about you – I am the one who suffered this damage, but you have also suffered, along with our children.  I have dedicated my life to helping others, that has never shaken within me.  I do not know where the drive still comes from, but I follow it because it is the only guide I have left.  I feel I have reached a balance with my condition – so perhaps now it is time that I help you find that balance as well.”

Zach looked away.  “I’ll think about it,” he said.  It came out rougher than he expected.

“All right.  In the meantime, let us have a dinner with the children.  As a family.”

Zach nodded.  “I’ll talk to them about it, Verena.  I can’t promise that they’ll want to, but I’ll tell them.”

“Perhaps,” Verena suggested.  “We could tell them together.”

---

< Ep 3 Part 18 | Ep 3 Part 20 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

Brooks studied Kell, and realized that he could not pursue the topic any further.

“Very well.  Would you like to give me your perspective on what occurred?”

“No,” Kell said.  “I would not like to.  But I will.”

The being began to pace, circling the pool, his eyes gazing into it.  He seemed to be searching for words, and Brooks gave him the time he needed.

“What is in that chamber should not be,” Kell finally said.

“In what sense?”

“Any,” Kell replied sharply.  “The man known as Michal Denso is gone, and what now occupies that space is an abomination.”

The Ambassador’s eyes raised from the icy water to meet Brooks’s.  “I do not use that word lightly.”

Brooks could not hide his surprise.  “Nevertheless, we must aim for a positive outcome.”

“That is impossible,” Kell replied.  “At least in the sense that Michal Denso will never exist again as was once known.”

“He’s dead?” Brooks asked.

“He is something else,” Kell answered, his eyes going back into the water.  He had paced around the pool and was now opposite Brooks, where he stopped.  “What, though, I do not yet know.”

“Except that it’s abominable, apparently,” Brooks said.  “Can you give us any useful information on what he is?  You’ve said before that I can’t understand these things – but we must try.  And there are few places in known space where we could do a better job of trying to understand.”

Kell said nothing, only looking into the water.

“The words do not come to me to even attempt to try, Captain.  Understand that I do not intentionally keep you in the dark.  There are simply limitations to what I am capable of imparting to you through words.”

“Through words,” Brooks echoed.  “Does that mean there is another way you could impart them?”

Kell looked up at him again, and something flashed across his face.  Amusement?  Mocking?

“How did Denso crack the glass?” Brooks asked.  “Can you describe that?”

“By hitting it,” Kell replied.

“But you saw that it broke in places he didn’t touch – even where he hit it, it broke after his hands struck.  Several moments later.”

“That is not what I saw,” Kell replied.

Damn it, Brooks thought.  He was certain of what he’d seen; he’d reviewed the footage.  But Kell had apparently seen something different.

“How aware do you think he is?” the Captain asked.

“I cannot answer that,” Kell said.  “He does actions with intent, but I do not know what – or how much – he perceives.”

“What do you make of him asking to go home?” Brooks asked.  “Denso was from the Neo Solaria system, do you think he is aware that we can’t take him there?  Or do you think he meant the ship he had served on, the Sunspot?”

The ship which, as far as Brooks knew, was still floating derelict in the Terris system – if it was lucky.  More likely it had already suffered a matter failure and ceased to be.

“The being that you continue to call Michal Denso has a connection to something deeper than a place,” Kell replied.  “Its home is not a physical location as you think of it.”

“What do you think it means, then?”

“The place where he was born.”

The answer made no sense to Brooks, and he almost asked for clarification, but then it suddenly clicked in his mind.

“The Terris system itself,” he breathed.

Kell nodded.  “That is where this being began.  Where it was . . . created.  I believe it wishes to return.  Why?  That I cannot begin to answer, so do not ask.  But more than anything else about this being, I am certain of this.”

“So if he felt he had been ‘born’ in the location that the Sunpot happened to exist in . . .”

“Then it may consider that space to be adjacent to its home, yes,” Kell replied.

Brooks went quiet, and Kell turned away, touching a panel.  The plain wall turned into a view of the stars beyond the ship, and Kell began to pace again, crossing and re-crossing the far side of the pool, while gazing into the void.

“Why do you think he responded to you as he did?” Brooks finally asked, breaking the silence.  “It seemed to be outright aggression, not simply . . . excitement.”

Kell unclasped his hands, letting them fall to his side.  His mouth curled slightly, but it portrayed no happiness, no pleasure.  It was a mocking, baleful grimace that went even into the eyes of the being as it stared into Brooks.  Through him, in a way, into a place that Brooks knew he could never understand.

“One abomination recognizes another,” he said.

Brooks found he could not speak.  He took a few moments to compose himself.  In the dark room, something seemed to stand out against the dark; not Kell, not the shape of man he presented himself as, and not even the . . . mass that he had seen in deep space when they’d encountered the Leviathan.

No, it was the eye.  Again, the shape of it, burned into his vision.

“I see,” Brooks finally managed to say.  His voice sounded hoarse in his ears.  “And . . . and what do you think we should do?”

“Kill him,” Kell said simply.  He turned, facing towards the wall screen that showed the stars.  “There is no other choice.  Good day, Captain.”

Brooks tried to thank Kell, but his voice had failed him.  He offered just a nod, and turned towards the door.

The Eye seemed to be there, too, on the wall.  It was not until the door opened into the brighter hall that it was washed out – or gone.  He could not know which.

Brooks realized that his hands were shaking.

---

< Ep 3 Part 17 | Ep 3 Part 19 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

The door to Kell’s cabin would not open when Brooks asked for entrance.

He knew the being was in there, or at least had a very good idea of it.  After leaving the Chain, the Ambassador had come straight back to his cabin – still bleeding – and spoken not a word to anyone.  Dr. Y and Cenz had both tried to speak to him, but had been ignored.

And since going in, the door had not opened.

Brooks had no eyes in Kell’s quarters.  They did not have eyes in anyone’s quarters, but sensors from other parts of the ship could sometimes pick up information – mostly the vibrations carried through floors of movement or talking.

But since Kell had come in here, they’d detected nothing.

Brooks did not know the extent of Kell’s injuries.  Was it the equivalent of a scrape on the knee to his kind, or was it serious?

Was Kell even still alive?

“Ambassador, please open the door.  I need to speak with you.”

It was the third time that he’d sent the message in.  There was still no response.

He clicked the intercom again.  “I need to know that you are all right, Ambassador.  I will have no choice but to come in if I believe your life is in danger.”

He felt a trickle of sweat go down the back of his neck.  The Treaty of Tor was strict in such cases, and Brooks knew that he played a dangerous game.  To violate the territory of the Shoggoths was more than simply an unlawful entry, in the treaty the words had left little question;

The Sovereign Territory of the Shoggoth People is inviolable, and unlawful and knowing violation of this right is considered an act of aggression by any being under any pretext.

While Kell was an ambassador, his quarters were considered the territory of his people.

But while Brooks would not actually risk entering, to simply say he would was not a breech of the treaty.  He just hoped that Kell did not call his bluff.

“Captain,” Cenz’s voice came through his comm.  “I am detecting large vibrations within Ambassador Kell’s quarters.  I believe he is moving.”

Taking a deep breath, Brooks steeled himself as the door opened.

Kell was standing there, his expression neutral.  There was no longer blood on his face or clothing, he looked impeccable.

“I did not expect such ignorance from you, Captain,” the Ambassador said.  His voice was cold, and there was an inhuman quality to it; a sort of echo, as if many voices spoke as one.

Brooks met the eyes of the Shoggoth.  A shiver went down his spine and he felt as if he was facing his death.

He kept his eyes locked to Kell’s.

“I had to know your life was not in danger, Ambassador,” he replied.  “Even if it was a violation of the Treaty of Tor, I would suffer the consequences.”

“Why?” Kell demanded.

“To make sure you did not die,” Brooks said.  “You are under my care, and the Sapient Union chooses life.”

“Not your own,” Kell replied coldly.

Brooks did not back down.  “If necessary, I would make that call.”

Kell’s head tilted ever so slightly.  “Is this all you required to speak with me about?”

“It is the primary concern, but not the only one.  I need to talk to you about what happened on the station.”

Kell said nothing, taking a step back.  Brooks was ready for the door to shut, but it did not.

“Enter,” the Ambassador said.

Surprised, Brooks hesitated for just a moment before doing as bidden, and crossing the threshold into Kell’s quarters.

It was dark in the room, almost as dark as a moonless night, and his eyes took a few moments to adjust.  He had not seen the interior of the room since before Kell had joined the ship, and he looked around, curious just what kind of decor a being such as it would have picked.

To say it was Spartan was not doing it justice; the walls were bare, as were the shelves.  There were no pieces of furniture, even the basic chairs built into the walls of each cabin were folded back up.

A large pool dominated the room; there were only a few meters around the edge that was not taken up by it, and besides that there was nothing.

And it was cold.  A deep cold that made his skin prickle, and there might even have been ice floating in the water of the pool.

Kell had moved to one side and was waiting for him to speak.

“Firstly, Ambassador – are you hurt?”

“It is nothing you need concern yourself with,” Kell replied.

“I am afraid you being injured is my concern.  Do you require medical care?”

Kell seemed almost amused.  “When I say you do not need to concern yourself, I mean that I will suffer no lasting harm.  Injuries do not concern a Shoggoth unless they are far worse than this.”

“Do you need antibiotics, or-“

“No illness affects my kind,” Kell interjected.  “I consider this a private matter that is now closed.”

---

< Ep 3 Part 16 | Ep 3 Part 18 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

Apollonia was a citizen of the SU now, but that didn’t mean she had to follow Brooks orders like a soldier.

Right?

He’d ordered her to come see the shrink, and Logus had sent her the appointment time for the next day.  She’d wondered if there would be a guard to make her come, but the only thing outside her door when the time came was a drone.

It had guided her here in an annoyingly helpful way, even suggesting various breakfast options that could be waiting for her when she got to Logus’s office.

She’d turned them all down.  She didn’t want to do this on a full stomach.

Now she sat in a waiting room, and was hating it.  She hated all waiting rooms, but this one was different.  Most were just horribly unpleasant, but this one was so pleasant it seemed to almost mock her.

Everything was soft, comfortable, none of it seemed strictly utilitarian in the way she was used to.  Wherever she’d lived, whenever it had been, she’d been lucky to have empty boxes and duffels, and she’d longed for some of the comforts that she saw others have in their homes – mostly on serials, she realized.  She’d rarely seen the inside of anyone else’s home, she’d never been a person people had invited in.

But this stuff?  It was not just pleasant, it was superb.  Higher-quality than even the ‘luxury’ items she’d seen back home.  And here it was, in the shitty waiting room of a shitty head doctor.  No one even cared or thought twice about it when they came in.  Every single place on the ship, that she had seen so far, was like that.

What did it say about you when you went decades hoping for the kinds of things these people would have considered unfit for even a waiting room?

Even the calming pictures of skies on worlds she would never see seemed only to taunt her.

Look at what you never had, because your parents were idiots who got on a colony ship, they imparted to her.  She’d never even seen a terrestrial planet in person, let alone a bird.  She had seen a dog once, and it had smelled.  That weird, unpleasant odor hung in her memory, and she found herself wondering what other animals smelled like.

Fuck, she thought.  What a pathetic dream to have.

The wall across from her made a dull thud.  Or something on the other side had.

She heard a voice; it was so muffled as to nearly be inaudible, but she could tell it was a man screaming as loud as he could.

“They took my son!”

There was another voice, Logus’s, but she could hear just the very slightest hum.

Apollonia shifted uncomfortably in the too-nice chair.  Damn it, she knew who it was on the other side of that door.  She only knew his first name, Dav, and he’d been another outcast on New Vitriol.  Always wanting to leave, always blaming Nec Tede for killing his son.  It had been the cancer that did that, same with most other kids who actually managed to be born there.

Only reason he’d never been spaced was that he was so powerless.  People saw him, heard him, but no one ever stood with him.  All just wanted to pretend the thing that was slowly killing them all didn’t exist.

It was easier than facing reality sometimes.

Time passed, and she at least knew there was a good reason she was being kept waiting.  Dav had been a time bomb waiting to explode for years.  She’d always just hoped it wouldn’t be literal and take her with it.

The door finally opened.  Dav was standing there, a tall, gaunt man, hollowed out by bad health and loss.  He still looked angry, but also drained of all strength.

“We’ll talk again in a couple days, okay?” Dr. Logus said gently to the man.

The man nodded sharply, like someone having to give their all just to maintain a semblance of normality.  “Okay.”

Dav’s eyes were unfocused, but then he noticed her, and turned hostile.

“What’s she doing here?” he spat.

Apollonia resisted the urge to give him her mocking smile.  Seemed too low, even if the man had been like all the rest and hated her.

“Dav, Apollonia has been through a lot as well.  She is another person who needs help, not our judgment,” Logus said.  It sounded sincere, which surprised her.

The man spit at her.  It hit the floor somewhere between them, and she felt like she’d been stabbed in the heart.  But it was an old wound.

“She’s a witch and you should have given her to the Dark,” the man said.  He stomped out of the room.

An awkward silence took over for his presence.  At least for her; Logus seemed somehow serene.

“I apologize for that, on his behalf.  He will come around,” the man told her.  “Now please – come in.”

She sat there for a long moment before slowly getting up.  “I’m only here because the Captain made me come,” she said.

“He was concerned about you, Ms. Nor.  We all were, after your incident on Station 29.”

She hadn’t moved forward, and he looked slightly confused.  “Are you coming in?”

“No,” she said flatly.  “I came here, but I’m not going in.”

“Why is that?” the psychiatrist asked her.  It sounded like he was dissecting her already.

She didn’t reply, but crossed her arms.  It was more to reassure herself than to be standoffish.  She didn’t like how all of this was making her feel or seem.

The man met her eye, but didn’t seem hostile.  “Would you like to at least come sit down?” he asked.  “We can sit and stare for half an hour, if you like, and then you can go on your way and tell the Captain you did what he asked.”

She considered.  It seemed reasonable.

In all honesty, despite her mistrust of doctors like him, she didn’t have a good reason she didn’t want to talk to him.  Not one she could tell him, even if he – to be fair – deserved to know.

She just knew she couldn’t risk it.

They entered his office and she took a seat.  It was actually even more comfortable than the chair out in the waiting room.  Logus sat in his chair and looked to her, waiting for her to start.

“I can’t talk to you,” she said, not meeting his eyes.

Logus watched her in silence for several heartbeats.

“Would you talk to someone else?” he asked.

She said nothing, feeling horribly afraid that her behaviour was just like a petulant child.  But she couldn’t talk to him.  She shouldn’t say anything to him.

“Would you talk to Dr. Y?” Logus suggested.

Her surprise must have shown, and the man had a smile that was at once patient and caring.

She actually hated being this way to him.  But she nodded.

If anything, the man looked relieved.  “Very well, then.  I am sorry I cannot help you, Apollonia.  But I will make sure you get the help you need.”

Rising, the man left his office.  Apollonia wasn’t sure if she should even stay; surely he couldn’t actually go get Y right now.  He probably had things to do, right?

A door opened in the corner.  Until now, she hadn’t realized it was really a door out of the room – it seemed like it was just a closet.

Dr. Y entered, and as he did so she realized that it was simply a closet.  One just the size for him.

“Were you . . . standing in there this whole time?” she asked, shocked.

---

< Ep 3 Part 14 | Ep 3 Part 16 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

Brooks kept silent as he and Verena returned to her office.

He no longer felt dizzy; instead, he felt furious.

Holding his tongue until they were in private, he rounded on the doctor once the door closed.

“What the hell was that?  You didn’t warn us that it would be dangerous,” he snapped.

Verena did not look at him, but there was no sense of shame on her as she walked to her desk.  Calmly, she sat down and folded her hands.

“That was unexpected,” she said.  “I had no way to know that Denso would react as he did, Captain.  And I remind you that I am a superior officer and you will respect that.”

Brooks fought down his anger.

“Tell me everything about this case,” he said.

She merely watched him.

“A member of my crew has been injured – an ambassador.  He is under my care, and as such I am entitled to understand just what danger he has been subjected to,” Brooks said.

“You feel you are arguing from a position of strength, Captain, but you are not.  I have full discretion in the matter of who knows what,” Verena replied.  “However, I do still wish your counsel if you can calm yourself.  This matter is beyond individual lives.”

“Just how severe is this issue?  I’ve never seen anything like it in someone altered.  Not even at Terris.”

“I shall wait to continue on this topic, Captain.  I have summoned from your ship Dr. Y – I would like his opinion as well as your own.”

It was a reasonable step, and Brooks nodded.  Y had been a long-time researcher in this field, even worked personally with altered patients when he had been posted to The Chain.

Brooks took several deep breaths before coming towards her desk.  Pulling out the chair, he sat down.

The door to the office opened and Dr. Y entered.

“Dr. Urle, Captain,” he said by way of greeting and stood near the desk.

“I have shared with Dr. Y the video of what occurred in the isolation bay,” Verena told Brooks.  “We may now continue on this topic.  You asked how severe the issue is – potentially quite severe.  But I do not know just how much yet.  As you have witnessed, there are things occurring that we cannot account for.”

“Such as how a man could crack that glass,” Brooks commented.

“Well, yes,” Y said.  “I cannot possibly explain it.  I am reminded of an ancient human phrase; spooky action at a distance.  But I do not believe that this is a classical quantum effect.”

Brooks stared at Verena.  “When did Denso develop these eyes?” he asked.

“The first of the nascent eyes appeared six months ago,” Verena replied.  “At that time, they seemed to be a common form of tumor on altered patients; a sort of representation of normal human anatomy, but entirely non-functional.  Within two months we had eight eyes growing, and more fully formed with neural connections.  By month four, they were following moving objects, and tests suggested they were sending actual information to his brain.

“Around that same time, his body began to split open into the form you see today.  The skin on ninety percent of his body has been reabsorbed, and most of his organs then began to fail.”

She tapped her pad, and a thin screen arose from her desk.  “And on that topic, it is not simply the eyes or other growths that have been unusual.  Here is a scan of Denso’s brain from when he was first admitted to MS-29.”

A three-dimensional scan appeared, slowly rotating to show all sides.  Brooks was no expert on the human brain, but it looked very normal to him.  He looked to Dr. Y, who was intently studying it.

“I recall these images.  His mind at the time showed minor structural changes,” the AI commented.  “And certainly signs of the trauma to which Denso had been exposed.  But that is not unexpected after what occurred – it is a human brain under extreme duress.”

Verena nodded and changed the image.  “This is his brain from seven months ago.”

“Alterations have accelerated, but are still minor,” Y noted.

“And what do the scans show now?” Brooks asked.

Verena changed the view again.

And even Brooks could tell that something was wrong.

The image was still rotating, but it was not moving in a way that made sense.  As it rotated, the brain – almost unrecognizable as such – changed shapes in impossible ways.  It was not a simple three-dimensional object any longer, he realized.  This was simply a crude attempt at displaying-

“A higher-dimensional structure,” Y said.  His voice was very soft.  “Michal Denso only . . . appears to be like us.”

“It is as good a description as any,” Verena replied.  “And I would like to know what he is.  It is why I wished for your Cerebral Reader to join us.  After her incident, I hoped perhaps Ambassador Kell could tell us more.  But it seems that it is unwilling to tell us.”

“I’ll try to speak to Kell again,” Brooks said.  “But anything we can learn about Denso might be useful – I heard him ask to go home when he got upset – has he said anything else?  Anything that might be useful?”

“Very little,” Verena replied.  “But the speech about home is the most common.  It is not unusual for those who are in severe distress to wish for such a thing.”

“Do we know what he means precisely?” Dr. Y asked.  “Home, yes – but what does he consider home?  Clearly not this station, so does he mean his birth place in the Neo Solaria system?  Or perhaps the ship he served upon the longest, the Sunspot?”

Brooks found that the doctor’s question tickled something in his mind.  “That’s a good question.”

“Taking Michal Denso anywhere is not on the table,” Verena interjected.  “He is not fit to be moved.”

“Which raises another question,” Dr. Y said.  “Beyond the obvious changes, what is his physical condition?  From the various equipment you have informed me of, it seems that very little of Michal Denso’s body is functioning.”

“He is entirely dependent upon the equipment,” Verena said.  “Most of his organs are non-functional.  His heart continues to pump, though his blood has become thicker – and from our filters we can tell that he has more of it than a man his size should.”

“I imagine that’s because of his brain extending into . . . some sort of higher space?” Brooks asked.

“Yes,” Verena said, still looking at Dr. Y.

“These are dramatic changes.  Has his mass increased?” Y asked.

Verena nodded.  “Substantially.  In a standard gravity, he now weighs nearly a metric ton.”

“Wait – what?” Brooks asked, leaning forward.  “His mass has increased?”

“In the last six days – yes.  And the rate has increased since his incident with the Ambassador.  We do not know where this mass is coming from.”

The three fell silent.

“Dr. Urle,” Y finally ventured.  “Have you considered – ending life support?  In a situation this severe, I cannot see a hopeful outcome for the patient.  We choose life whenever we can, but in this case I simply have nothing of value to suggest.  But I wonder if Michal Denso would even thank us for prolonging his current state.”

Verena said nothing for a moment, and Brooks watched her carefully.  In the years he’d known her, when he was Executive Commander of the Kilimanjaro and she was Chief Medical Officer, she’d often laughed – she had been a person who he usually expected to have a smile.  Even in the face of medical tragedies, she had kept her positive outlook on life.

But her face was only impassive now.  It was like part of her was gone.

“We are under orders to keep Michal Denso alive,” she said.  “Ending his life is not an option.”

“Who has given these orders?” Dr. Y asked.  “I have never heard such orders from the medical bureau.  In a case such as this, keeping him alive is tantamount to torture.”

“I cannot say more on this matter,” Verena said steepling her fingers.  “I am seeking other solutions here.”

“I am afraid I have none currently,” Dr. Y replied.

“Nor do I,” Brooks said.  “We need to know more.  Verena, will you send me the files you have on this case?”

She considered his request.  “I will send you some more information,” she said cryptically.  “Now, both of you – dismissed.”

---

< Ep 3 Part 13 | Ep 3 Part 15 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

Inside the glass cell sat a thing that had once been a man.

The only part of him unaltered was his head.  It was entirely intact, even looked healthy.  Like at any moment he might open his eyes and awaken.

But his body was like nothing Brooks had ever seen.

The platform he rested upon was much broader than a patient would normally need, and over nearly all of its surface, spreading like weeds, was Michal Denso.

His body had opened like a flower, if the petals had then become tendrils of flesh that grew outward.  His ribs rose like stamen, and in the open cavity of his chest his organs could be seen.

His lungs still expanded.  His heart still beat.

On the mass of flesh that covered the table, though, new shapes had appeared.  Organs that Brooks could recognize existed on there, but so did other, shapeless masses.

And eyes.

So many eyes that Brooks could not count them all immediately, there had to be nearly a score.

He had seen many cases of alteration, nut he had never seen any ike this.

Adrenaline was pumping through his veins, but he felt a strange calmness settle in, as it always did.  Detached, he could analyze the situation better, come to better decisions.

He continued to study the man, wanting to take in everything, not miss a detail no matter how unpleasant.

Thin tubes were tucked into his mouth and nose, with numerous IV feeds into his body, some of them directly into his orgns.  Some kind of small monitor was held up over his chest cavity, and upon closer inspection Brooks saw tubes coming from it that were carrying blood into his body, suggesting that his kidneys or liver were not functioning properly.

A myriad assortment of machinery was under the floor, which was also clear, and down there Brooks saw techs in their heavy protective suits.

Verena spoke.  “Step away.”

Brooks was unsure if she meant him, but then he saw the techs below leave, disappearing out of sight.

“May I approach?” he asked the doctor.

She nodded, and Brooks moved forward, stopping in front of the chamber.  The man’s eyes did not open, and Brooks glanced to Verena, who was looking at a readout screen.

“Is he awake?” Brooks asked.

“No,” the doctor said, not moving her eyes from the screen.  “I believe he is asleep – he does this only rarely, but he had an incident earlier today, not long after you arrived.  It exhausted him, but most of the time he is simply . . .”

“Distracted,” Kell supplied.

The voice came from behind him, and Brooks turned.

The Shoggoth had not approached.  He was only halfway from the door, and seemed, for the first time, to be at a loss.

His face was still – blank, almost.  Like a human simulation that was not receiving input.  His chin was even tipped slightly downward.

“Ambassador?” the Captain asked.

“I am observing,” Kell replied. His mouth moved.  But he still did not look up.

Brooks turned back towards Verena, who was watching Kell.

“My god, Verena – how is he still alive?”

“Many of his body’s functions have shut down or are working improperly,” she said.  “We are supporting all that we can.  In most circumstances, we can simply replace damaged or defective organs or use implants to perform the task – but his body alters even replacement organs in a very short time, and rejects implants.”

She gestured to the glass containment.  “For obvious reasons, the room is a clean space.  So far we have had no issue with infections – I believe that microbes ght find his body an unsuitable place for habitation, but I will not take chances.”

Brooks shook his head.  “Why is he still alive?  Has he communicated a desire to keep living like this?”

“No,” Verena replied.  “I have . . . wondered this, myself.  But I have orders from above, Captain – orders to keep him alive, at all costs.”

Brooks could not know why anyone would want to keep a man alive like this, and it twisted his stomach even thinking about.  But now was not the time to question those orders; right now he needed to understand the situation itself.

“What is his name?” Brooks asked her, nodding slightly towards the man.

Verena regarded him as if he’d asked an odd question.

“Michal Denso,” she told him.  “He was an assistant Navigational Officer on the frigate Sunspot.  It was in Battlefleet A at Terris.”

Brooks took the words in soberly.  Battlefleet A had been the point of the spearhead of battle.  They had, by far, taken the worst effect of the Leviathan’s reality breaking effects.

Brooks’s ship had not been in that group.  He had still seen combat at Terris – a brutal experience.  But it had been nothing like the group Denso had been in.

Out of fifteen thousand ships in that battlefleet, less than a thousand made it out.  Among them were the most dead, the most insane.

And the most altered.

The sound of footsteps caught Brooks’s attention.  Kell was approaching.

He was not the only one to notice.  As Kell came near, Michal Denso opened his eyes.

Those on his growths were swollen, grotesque.  They rotated all the same, each of them affixing upon Kell.

Kell had a grim look upon his face, almost angry.

“This is not meant to be,” he said.

Verena was watching the Ambassador closely.  “Any information might be useful,” she said.

Kell opened his mouth to speak – but then paused.  He struggled a moment, then closed his mouth.

“I see, but I do not understand,” he said softly.  “Not yet.”

He stepped closer to the chamber and lifted a hand, pressing it gently against the glass.

Alarms began to go off, and Verena looked to the screen on the side.  “There is a surge of brain activity,” she said.

Michal Denso lifted his head – and hand.  Brooks had not seen it before, it had grown so smoothly among the other tendrils of flesh that it had seemed to be merely one of those.

It was not like a human arm anymore.  There was no skin left on it, just raw flesh, and twice as long as any human arm.

It moved stiffly, mechanically, and more alarms went off.  He leaned forward, flesh on the table peeling off, and pressed his hand to the glass, opposite Kell’s hand.  The tubes and devices moved with him, and Brooks could not imagine how he could have moved in this state at all.

The alarms went silent suddenly, as Verena deactivated them, but the silence was worse than the noise.

Brooks felt sweat trickle down his temple, wondering why Verena did nothing to put a stop to this, but he could not make himself move as he saw Kell . . . commune . . . with the man within the chamber.

And then Kell spasmed.  A sound of pain, of fear, came from him – not just his voice, but suddenly a cacophony of them, all making the same kind of cry-

Kell collapsed onto the floor.

“Ambassador!” Brooks cried, dropping to a knee.

His eyes were open, and he was staring sightlessly upwards.

Brooks opened a channel.  “Cenz, get to the high-security medical wing, the Ambassador is injured!”

Verena was summoning help as well.  “We have no information on Shoggoth anatomy here,” she noted.

“We don’t know much more,” Brooks admitted.  “But if anyone has learned something, it will have been Commander Cenz.”

Brooks wanted to pull the Ambassador away, but he could not budge the being.  He could not even move a limb.

It would be minutes before Cenz could get here.

A long, piercing shriek brought his attention back to Denso.

He realized that the man was attempting to stand, struggling to pull his own flesh free from the table.

He was staring at Kell, and on his face was rage.

Alarms were building again, and the man was breathing harder and harder, staring at Kell.

He pounded the fist of his horrible, elongated arm against the glass, letting out a voiceless cry of anger.

A moment after he’d struck it, cracks appeared on the case.  It was as if something massive had crashed into it, something moving with but just behind his limbs.

“I want to go home!” the man screamed.  His voice carried through the chamber walls with unnatural power, echoing in the empty room.

More cracks appeared on the chamber walls.  Denso hadn’t even moved.

“We need help in here now,” Brooks said.

“The Shoggoth cannot be moved,” Verena said, with unnatural calm.  “And Denso is unresponsive to sedatives.  Bringing others in will only endanger them, we must simply wait, and watch.”  Without another word, she turned and walked towards the door – but did not leave, only standing near it and observing.

Denso pounded the glass again.  A sound like a mighty crash came, and the glass of the floor cracked, nearly but not quite buckling.

Brooks said nothing and looked back to Kell.  “Ambassador, if any part of you is awake, we need you to move!”

Perhaps some part of the being was still aware, because the eyes suddenly looked to him.  Kell sat up, moving not like a man lifting himself with muscles, but like he was suspended from invisible strings.

He rose and stared at Denso.

Denso was still furious.  He had made no other move, but he was panting hard, his face red with exertion.

Verena watched.

Kell took a single step forward, and Denso was shoved back.  He fell heavily back onto the table, his body straining, but not moving.  All of his eyes were still fixed upon Kell.

He went still, sagging onto the surface.

A single word escaped his lips.  “Home.”

Kell said nothing, unmoving, staring at the man behind the glass for a long moment.

Then he opened his mouth, and a flood of thick black liquid poured past his lips.  He said nothing as it splashed down his front, onto the floor.

Brooks could not understand it for a moment, before realizing that it was blood.

But before he could say a word, could even ask if Kell was all right, the Ambassador turned on his heel and walked towards the door.

“Ambassador!” Brooks said, chasing after him.  He did not try to stop him, but simply came up alongside him.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.  “You need medical care.”

But Kell would say nothing.

Even when Verena opened the airlock, the being was silent.

All the way back to the ship.

---

< Ep 3 Part 12 | Ep 3 Part 14 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

“Ambassador, thank you for agreeing to come,” Brooks told the being as they shifted from the gravity of the Craton to the zero-g of the medical station.

Despite how disconcerting it was to even a seasoned spacer like Brooks, Kell seemed unbothered.

Taking a railing and pulling himself along, he glanced at Kell.  The being seemed to have no need for handholds or anything to move itself as it liked in the lack of gravity.  Not even a foot touching the floor.

The inhumanity, the . . . wrongness of the being struck him again, and he felt a shiver go down his spine, a twisting in his stomach.

It was just nerves, he chided himself.  The Ambassador was as odd being, one that was inhuman, but in a way that was wholly appropriate; he was another species, after all.  And he had, largely, played fair with them in the last few weeks.  Just because the Battle of Terris had been brought up, that he was about to meet one of its many victims, was no reason to alter his views on the Ambassador.

Kell had still said nothing in response to him, as they met an orderly drone that led them deeper into the structure.

As they entered the chamber that would bring them up to speed with the rotating station – and back into a semblance of gravity – Kell spoke, as if there had been no pause in their conversation.

“I must come,” he said.

Or it.  Brooks mentally found himself humanizing the being, and chided himself.  Projecting human concepts and norms onto non-human beings was a long-time source of problems in inter-species relations.  It was good, vital, to view them as equal beings, but it did not help to simply think of them as humans who looked a little different.

Though, honestly, Kell seemed to not care at all how they referred to it.

“I hope you understood that it was not an order,” Brooks said.  “It was only a request, though an important one.”

Kell looked at him, and despite there being no change in his expression, Brooks could still feel the judgment.

“There are times when I will have to give you orders,” Brooks told him.  “I’ve been very spare with this out of respect, Ambassador.  But you must understand that there are requests – and there are orders.”

“I will keep my own counsel on that,” Kell replied.  “But this case – it is bigger than us.  Bigger than this station, I feel.  If you had not asked me, I would have requested to come see.”

The chamber had been slowly picking up speed, and Brooks feet were just starting to touch the floor.

This part of the station kept at 90% of Earth gravity; enough to feel some weight was taken off of him, but still quite solid.

Verena was waiting.  She spared Kell at glance, and the Ambassador stared back at her, his face equally expressionless, but his interest still apparent.

“Follow me,” she ordered.

They began down the corridor, and she led them into another elevator.

“The area we are going into is reserved for the most extreme cases of alterations caused by exposure to a Reality Break event,” she explained.  “These cases are nearly all terminal, and typically all we can do is give them palliative care.  However, in most cases, their injuries are severe enough that they are not mentally functional.  Such was the case with this patient we are soon to meet – his code is AB49672-E.”

She looked at her pad.  “Until recently, the patient was in a catatonic state.  His condition was severe, but physical alterations were – as far as we could tell – relatively minor.”

She looked back up and her eyes moved from Brooks to Kell.  “Until recently.  The patient has regained consciousness and has started to communicate.”

“Is he improving, then?” Brooks asked.

“I do not believe so,” Verena said.  “His communicative periods are brief, but other oddities have begun to arise.  While it is common for altered patients to develop benign tumors and growths, Denso has begun growing functional new organs.”

“That’s impossible,” Brooks said.  “Alteration is the corruption of matter as we know it-“

“It is not impossible,” Kell commented.

Brooks looked at him, but the Ambassador did not meet his gaze.  He was only staring at Verena.

The doctor nodded.  “Evidently, the Ambassador is correct.  Denso has begun to grow eyes – functional eyes.  This has not been seen in another altered patient, it is entirely novel.  I believe it is possible that you will be able to understand this more, Ambassador, on account of your equally-novel biology.  And you, Captain – you have encountered Leviathans more than any other living person and come out without alteration.  It makes you both uniquely qualified.”

“I will be happy to lend whatever assistance I can,” Brooks replied.  But he didn’t feel very confident; after all he had seen, he still knew almost nothing about Leviathans, beings like them, or those that had been altered by their presence.

He had the feeling, though, that there was more to this than she said, that her reasons extended beyond his mere experiences.  The sinking feeling in his stomach grew worse.

“Do you have any questions, Ambassador?” Verena asked, looking at Kell.  Brooks realized that she had not had any visible reaction to the Shoggoth.  Not upon first meeting him, and not now.

“I will have to see him,” Kell replied.

Verena nodded.  “I thought as much.  Captain, are you ready?”

“Yes,” Brooks said.  Though his stomach churned, and dread crept up his spine, he knew that this was a part of his duty.  It was the worst part, but it was still the service required of him.

The elevator door opened, and Brooks realized it had stopped some time ago, but Verena had kept the doors closed.

The first thing that hit him was the smell; the stench of chemicals designed to render a surface more sterile than a radiation-baked rock.  There was no pleasant scent added to diminish the noxious sting, and he found his eyes wanting to water.

The area itself was white, antiseptic.  The walls were different from any he had seen elsewhere on the station or even a starship; a slight off-white color, made of single pieces that formed wall, floor, and ceiling.  It seemed that the entire corridor had been made in a single custom piece, with all halls extending off it appearing the same.  The entire area, perhaps even floor, must have been 3D printed in one single piece.

The air seemed oddly humid.  From the sheer quantity of cleaning chemicals, or for a different reason entirely, he could not tell.

Kell seemed just as fascinated.  “Interesting,” he said, looking over.  There was some distaste in his voice, and when they stepped out, Kell seemed almost uncomfortable.

“Is something troubling you, Ambassador?” Verena asked, studying him carefully.  As if watching for a reaction.

“No,” Kell replied.

Other doctors were in the hall, but were faceless under full-body protective suits, bulkier even than space suits.

“Should we be wearing more protection?” Brooks asked.

“Only if you plan on staying for hours,” she replied.  “For the purposes of our visit, we will be safe enough.”

Reassuring, Brooks thought.

“Before we go further, I must impress upon you both that what we are about to see is a Class-15 secret.”  She looked to Brooks, then Kell, pitting the latter with a more intense stare.

“You will not speak of nor share anything you learn or witness here with another being outside of this facility.  Am I understood?”

Brooks nodded, but he had to struggle to fight a dizziness that swept him.

The Sapient Union was a very open body, and yet they still had secrets.  Class-15 was the pinnacle of secrets, a type even he had never been privy to before.

The bulkhead walls ahead looked somewhat different; more milky, further from true white.  As they neared, the color drained out of them, turning as clear as glass.  Beyond, was another room.

It was a very large space; at least ten meters tall and twice that on each side.

The space was largely empty – save for at the center, where there was a glass-walled chamber.  Or, at least it was clear like glass; Brooks’s data feed informed him that it was a heavily-reinforced plastic.

The airlock doors were still opaque, cutting them off from all sight as they entered.  A decontamination procedure commenced.  Kell scowled through it.

“Unpleasant,” he commented.

Verena was watching him carefully again.  But she said nothing.

The other door opened, and they went into the room beyond.

---

< Ep 3 Part 11 | Ep 3 Part 13 >