Category Episodes

Episode 1 – Leviathan, Part 22

Captain Mayor Brooks

“Sir!” Eboh, the communications officer, said.  “We’ve got contact from the Hev ship – it’s the Response Team, they’ve got the ship working!”

Brooks breathed a sigh of relief.  “Communicate to them the trajectories of the escape ships – ask if they can recover them if possible, if the Leviathan leaves after we’re gone.”

“Sending now, sir.  Lieutenant Commander Caraval is asking to speak with you as well.”

“Put him through,” Brooks replied.  “Put them on channel for the command bridge.”

Caraval’s voice came through – there was a strange pitch to it that he knew came from the signal bending under the gravity of the Leviathan.  The computer could not clean it up perfectly.

“Caraval reporting,” he said.  “The Hev ship is fully functional.  Had to jettison one section that we believe came too close to the Leviathan – lost a portion of its crew, but still operational.”

“Like the shuttle, that section is now a part of the being,” Kell mused.

“Had a near-problem with one of our number, but all is well.”  His tone changed.  “I . . . we . . . would sure like to know why you’re moving to engage, sir.”

“The Leviathan is going to catch us no matter what,” Brooks said.  “We have to buy time.”

The reply was hesitant in coming.  “. . . Ah.”

“Your families are among those evacuated,” Brooks told him.  “Thank you for your service.  You have my commendations, Lieutenant Commander.”

“Thank you, sir.”  There was relief in his voice.  Caraval’s son lived with him on the ship.

“Sir,” Cutter suddenly said.  “Ambassador,” addressing Kell.  “When you say shuttle and Hev ship section are now ‘part of’ Leviathan – is this literal?”

Kell nodded.  “Yes.  They are simply parts of it – as it split in two to follow us and the shuttle both, they are addendums to its body.”

Cutter’s mandibles clicked rapidly.  “Sir, if we target the Hev component – it is physical.  It is not surrounded by Reality Break Shadow.  We can hit it, sir.  We might . . . actually be able to hurt it.”

Surprise went over Kell’s face.  “I agree.  Captain, target it – target it immediately.”

The idea made Brooks feel a surge of excitement, until he saw the angle.  He struggled to keep the frustration from his voice.  “We can’t – the Leviathan is between us and it.  We’re not even sure of its edges.”

“We can!” Cutter said excitedly.  “Signal from Hev ship shows us exact gravity curve – we follow trajectory of signal for shot – we can bend it around the Leviathan!”

“Even better,” Urle said.  “This Hev ship has its own zerodrive, yes?  If they can extend their field and launch the piece into zerospace just as it explodes, it will . . . well, I don’t think the Leviathan will like that.”

“Yes!” Kell snapped.  A fury was in his voice – the most emotion they had ever seen from the being.  “Captain, I swear to you, if you do this, you will hurt it, and it shall regret this moment for all its time.”

“We have twenty seconds!” Yaepanaya noted loudly.  “If we’re going to do it, say so quickly!”

“Calculate it,” Brooks ordered.  “Get firing solution – Caraval, are you tracking this?”

“Yes, sir!  The Hev Captain is – he’s delighted by this idea.”

“If you can synch their zerodrive with our shot, we can make this perfect,” Brooks added.

“Already doing so – they can hold the charge for a ten-second window!”

“Five seconds until Shadow Break!” Yaepanaya yelled.

“Firing solutions, now!  Orient the ship!  We have to-“

Reality broke around them.

They heard it, a sound as the air itself around them shuddered, twisted and altered.

Brooks felt like he had been turned inside out, and he knew it had only just begun.

He could barely see, everything appeared distorted – an effect upon the synapses in his mind.  Others around him staggered, even Urle.  It did not matter that he was more machine than man, he was still just a being, and there was no resisting such a thing as a Leviathan.

Save for Kell.

Somehow, the being was not blurred in his mind.  He saw him as clearly as he had only moments before.

No, he saw him even more.  More clearly – every inch of the form of man he had taken on, and in moments he saw yet more.

He saw in ways he did not know he could see.  He saw beyond the charade of a human form, to something, something else more alien than anything he had encountered in all his years in space.  Something huge, something primordial, something that was innately like the Leviathan.

And yet, he realized for the first time, something that was contained.  While the Leviathan viewed them as nothing and would walk over them with the anger of a being stepping on ants, Kell moved carefully.  Restrained.

And he could sense something, a feeling – sorrow.

Kell was looking at him, not in his human form, but his presence.

“I am sorry,” he felt, more than heard, Kell say.  They were not words, but merely an idea, conveyed to him through something other than sound.

Brooks wanted to reply, to say to Kell to finish what they had started.  He could see the button on the console, near Yaepanaya, and he only had to press it.  The computer could not do it – the AI of their system was experiencing what they were, in its own way.

All he had to do was press it.  But he could not make himself move.

< Part 21 | Part 23 >

Episode 1 – Leviathan, Part 21

Captain Mayor Brooks

Brooks watched as the Leviathan consumed the shuttle.  It had become engulfed in the Reality Break Shadow much earlier, and all connection had been cut off.  For some time there had been no visible change to the shuttle – the RBS was only a threshold, and crossing it did not cause immediate effects.  Had there been crew on the shuttle, though, they would have felt it, and soon after their minds would no longer be their own.

Two minutes later, the ship had visibly rippled as it had begun to alter, soon becoming something else.  Its shape had blurred, its parts rearranging.  It was deep within the Shadow now, and there was no coming back.

It was like watching a mad engineer retool a device into something that made sense only to him.  After this point, it would not have functioned outside of the Shadow of the Leviathan, grim experience had taught Brooks that.  Things altered beyond a certain point, if they left the Shadow they could no longer hold themselves together as matter.  The resulting event was known as a matter failure, as the object broke down almost entirely into a burst of elementary particles and massive amounts of energy.

This time, he did not have to see that.  This time, he got to see something worse, as the bulk of the Leviathan came more and more into their reality.  No longer was its eye simply a vague outline, but it had become something almost corporeal, and once it engulfed the thing-that-had-been-a-shuttle, it ceased to be.

“It is a part of the Leviathan now,” Kell commented.

Urle looked at him, but said nothing.

“Launch all escape pods and craft as soon as they’re ready,” Brooks ordered.  “Yaepanaya, do we have firing solutions for the Magnetic Accelerators?”

The woman looked up from her desk – she had been actively scribbling.  “The system can’t get firing solutions through the Reality Break Shadow – we’ve calculated by hand down to the 20th decimal.  In theory it should be hard to miss something that big, but . . .” she gestured.  “Nothing about them makes sense.  But we’re going to need to let it be closer before I can give you good odds on a hit.  At most, ten seconds before contact with the Shadow.”

It was a matter of defiance, they all knew.  Tens of thousands of ships had fired upon Leviathans in the past, and few, if any, projectiles even reached their target before they ceased to exist.

And those that hit did little.  How could they, against something so vast?

Brooks accepted Yaepanaya’s words all the same, then looked to Urle.  “Evacuation status?”

“The last shuttle is launching in twenty seconds,” he stated.  “We’ve got at least 80% of the civilian population and 15% of personnel off.  The rest of the civilians . . . voluntarily gave up their seats.”

Brooks looked at the stats – out of 14,892 civilians, 11,943 were evacuated.  Out of the ship’s complement of 19,955, only 2,973 were evacuated.  All were in non-combat roles.  Every ship had evacuated full.

Almost 20,000 left behind.  Their lives were in his hands.  All of them had moved to the furthest point in the ship from the Leviathan, if they could.  He and his bridge crew would be closest to it, taking the fullest extent of its reality-defying presence.

They had more escape craft, but they were running out of time.  They would have to buy time for those escape craft and hope that the Leviathan did not notice them.

And most importantly, they would have to call for help.

“Last ship launched, sir,” Urle said.

Brooks leaned forward, his voice quiet.  “You’re certain your daughters are out?”

Urle hesitated in answering, and when he did, the emotion bled through his mechanical voice.  “Yes, sir.  They are safe.”

Brooks spoke louder.  “Then we had better make sure we do our duty.”  He clicked on a channel to address the entire ship.

“To all souls aboard the Craton – to battle stations.  We are going to engage the Leviathan.  It is not a desirable outcome, but we do it to give those who have escaped time.  Thank you all.”

He closed the channel.

“Send the emergency signal,” he ordered.

“As ordered, Captain,” Cutter said.

There was no bang, no dramatic sound as the engines overloaded.  Not even a vibration – they simply did not work in that way.  But they all felt it; it was an electric feeling, like static, but moreso.  It built until it seemed almost unbearable – and then it was gone.

Kell staggered.  Brooks looked at him, and stood to help steady the being.

Touching him, he was not just cold, his body felt like rock, both in its unyielding nature, and also its solidity.  He could not right the man with any exertion.

“Ambassador, are you-?”

“I am fine,” Kell said, standing upright.  His body moved like a marionette on strings, simply moving vertically.

“Are you sure?”

“You have more important things to do, I am certain,” Kell replied.  There was a bite in his voice that Brooks had not heard before.

Brooks’ skin was too thick to be bothered by angry words, but the Shoggoth was right.  He looked to Cutter.

“Message has been sent, Captain.  And our engines are disabled – we have momentum, but that is all.”

“Time until we enter the Shadow?”

“Two minutes and seven seconds, Captain,” Cenz reported.

“Ready the Mag Cannons.  Prepare to fire on my mark.”

< Part 20 | Part 22 >

Episode 1 – Leviathan, Part 20

Captain Mayor Brooks

“Engage explosives on my mark!”

Pirra heard the order over the comm and braced herself in the shuttle.  She had put on a spare suit, but it wasn’t tailored for her physiology and it was rather large on her frame.  Still, it worked and was better than being in just an undersuit.

“Mark!” the order came.

She tried to calculate the odds that the whole Hev ship would rip apart.  They seemed far too high for comfort.

A rumble passed through the ship, into the shuttle.  It felt like a small earthquake, and her eyes went to the sensors detecting air pressure.

It fluctuated.  Dropped.

Then it stabilized.

She let out a deep breath.  The ship was holding together for now.

There were external cameras on the shuttle, and while the explosions were not going on at an angle she could see, she could see the debris that blasted away from the hull.

“Sensors confirm that a section has separated,” she messaged Caraval.

“Extent?” he asked.

“Not sure.  After predicted micro-debris field has spread enough I can send in some drones to confirm.  Until then, the risk to them is too high.”

There was a pause before Caraval spoke again.  “The Hev seem pretty nervous, and they’re talking in a tradespeak that our translators don’t know.  Better send in the drones anyway.  We have to be sure.”

“Understood.”

Pirra sent a directive to their drones, and began to guide them around the Hev ship.  Only the small glitter of debris as it caught a light source was an indication of the deadly cloud that would exact a terrible toll on them.

But that was what the drones were for; unintelligent and expendable assets that could be sacrificed in place of real lives.  Didn’t keep her from feeling bad about it, though.

Almost immediately, one of the dozen she was commanding went to static.  Sensors on the others confirmed that a larger piece of debris had smashed it head-on.  In the dark of space it had been all-but invisible.  The whole cloud of debris was baffling to all manner of sensors, carrying heat, reflecting signals, and making it simply too dangerous to even have the most powerful sensors extended.

Two more went dark; only one was destroyed, but the sensor array on the other had been holed by a small piece of scrap.  Probably her own boot she had left behind, she thought in annoyance.

Keeping six back, she sent in the other three.

And there they beheld the sight of a section of the ship floating free.

Just the sight was terrible to her.  Seeing a ship in such a shape that large pieces were floating free was a terror; her mind immediately jumped to ways in which they might approach it for trying to save those stranded.  In any other situation, it would have been a terrible and desperate thing to behold.

Even if it hadn’t been corrupted, the debris and proximity to the main ship would have made it too dangerous, she surmised.

“Pirra, update?”

“Sensors confirm separation.  Unsure yet if it has enough energy to drift free.”

“We’re pretty sure we have control back.  The Captain is considering a minor burn to drift the rest of the ship away.  Feed the drone telemetry data to the Hev network to assist them.”

“Yes, sir.”  She did as ordered, feeling her frustration rise as she tried to feed the data.  Without any AI, trying to communicate with the Hev ship was about as easy as explaining zerospace to a potato.

When she got a confirmation from a Hev engineer, she felt at least a little better.

“Preparing for burn,” the order came.

She steeled herself and set the drones into intercept mode.  This was going to be only marginally less dangerous than the initial explosion.

“I hope someone else is monitoring air pressure,” she muttered.

She felt the ship begin to move.  It was subtle, held in check by the ship’s weak counter-G systems, but she felt it all the same.  It wasn’t a strong burn, and it made her concerned for the robustness of their system.

But that wasn’t an issue for right now.  Pushing that worry away, she checked the drones.

“We’re moving away, it looks – no, wait, the section is following!  Commander, there has to be a structural cable that didn’t cut!”

“Get on it, Pirra!” Caraval barked.  He began to throw orders to the Hev and the rest of the team, but she knew it was really on her at this point, through sheer bad luck of being on drone duty.

Two drones dove in to find the cable.  The debris was even heavier here, bouncing around between sections of the hull.  One drone was cut in half immediately, she saw it on the other’s camera.

The other didn’t make it much further.

She sent in three more from her reserve, trying for new angles the computer calculated might be safer.  One made it, and she saw the cable.

“Ram it,” she ordered.  “Full speed.”

With enough energy, the drone should shear the cable . . . but at this close range, there was only so much time to accelerate.

The drone hit, but the cable didn’t break.

Four left.  “All in,” she said, sending the last of their drones in.

Three made it in, better than she had hoped.  The first two hit the cable and damaged it.  The third took a hit from debris, but wasn’t disabled, instead spinning out wildly.

“Get control!” she ordered the system.  “Use the momentum, if possible.”

The system went through a million scenarios.  It settled on one and ran it.  The drone continued to spin, its thrusters burning to add to its inertia.  Such a force wasn’t good for it, but they were rated for incredible accelerations – Pirra just hoped it would be able to take them in its damaged state.

Whirling like a buzzsaw, it hit the cable and sheared through.

As the sensor feed went blank, she felt another shudder through the ship.

“Visual confirmation by sensors – the section is detached!” Caraval called.

She slumped in her seat.  “Cannot give confirmation on my end – all drones MIA.”  Damn it, she was going to put in for a vacation after this.

No, after her quarantine, she realized.  Maybe that would be like a vacation.

“Most systems are coming back online,” Caraval noted, still broadcasting to the whole team.  “Good work, team.  The Hev now have full control of their vessel, including coms.  Get me the Craton.”

< Part 19 | Part 21 >

Episode 1 – Leviathan, Part 19

Captain Mayor Brooks

Caraval gave a sharp wave to Pirra.  Bullets were about to fly, and he didn’t want her anywhere near this.

Instead, she floated towards them.

“I understand your pain,” she said.

One of the Hev snarled at her.  “Quiet!  We know you received favoritism, getting to return!  No others who went in came back – so why you?”

Their eyes went to Caraval, and he hoped to hell Pirra knew what she was doing.

“Your Captain didn’t want to let me back in,” Pirra said.  “He tried to lock me out.  But it would have been a diplomatic incident.  But I am lucky – I did not get a secondary infection.”  She patted her undersuit.  “This protected me – and so did my main suit, which was infected and I had to abandon at the last minute.”  She hesitated a small moment, then continued.

“I saw the others in there.  They were not so lucky.  I’m so very sorry.”

Caraval feared that their anger would burn even brighter.  But he saw some of the fire in their eyes fade.

“They are our friends and family,” the leader of the mutineers said.  “We just want to see them again.  Or . . . at least give them proper farewells.”

“I know,” Pirra said softly.  “But it can’t be.  I saw them, and . . . they’re not suffering anymore.  They decided to take control of their fates.  It was not easy, and it was not fair.  But I’m sure they did it not only to spare themselves worse fates – but because they care about you, their friends and family.  They knew you would feel like you must help them, but they took that choice away, to make it easier to say goodbye.”

The leader of the mutinous Hev bowed his head.  “My mate was like that,” he agreed.  “She . . . she was always selfless.”

Others hung their heads, and while Hev did not shed tears as humans did, Caraval could tell their sorrow was deep and sincere.

“I’m very sorry for your losses,” Caraval told them, interjecting himself into the conversation.  “Right now, we need to focus on saving the rest of your people.  I’m afraid there’s only one way we can do that – by detaching that section of the ship.  I don’t know of any other way.”

Captain K’Raaiia stepped forward.  “It is with great reluctance I agree to this,” he said.  His voice was blustery, but Caraval thought there was at least some sincerity in it.  “We shall detach the section, and upon our return from this trip we will raise a monument to the bravery of the Thousands Who Sacrificed.”

“You will . . . with your own money?” the head of the mutineers asked.

Caraval caught the pointed question and tried not to smile.  K’Raaiia’s face went through a myriad of emotions, anger not the least among them.  But he knew his position was not one of strength.

“With my own funds,” he agreed.

Caraval cautiously moved forward.  “Captain, how do we detach that section?”

The Hev considered a moment.  “It was an addition but we never intended to remove it.  However . . . we never properly finished its connection.  There are no deep ties to our vessel.  If we break a dozen connectors, it should simply drift free.”

Caraval noted that such a weak connection was incredibly illegal in Sapient Union space, but didn’t bring it up.

“We have a few charges that might help, but I’m not sure if they’ll be enough.  I can have teams go to each site-“

“No,” the head of the mutinous group said.  “They are our people – we will do it.”

Caraval bowed his head to them.  “I understand.  We cannot get the ship moving or communications back up until we get it off, so time is of the essence.  The Craton may be in trouble, and we can’t be sure the Leviathan won’t come back this way.”

“We will waste no time,” the Captain said.  He began barking orders to his crew.  Caraval saw some hostility to him remaining, but his crew did follow his commands.

Caraval moved back towards Pirra, who seemed lost in thought.

“You all right?” he asked.

She was startled out of her reverie.  “Yes, Commander.”

“Good work there,” he said.  “Even if you ignored orders.”

“I won’t make a habit of it,” she said with an attempt at a smile.  It wasn’t normal for her kind, and looked wan as well as forced.

“Glad to hear it.  Now . . . this time go back to our ship for real and wait there.”

“Aye, sir.”

He caught her arm as she turned.  “Have it prepped and ready.  If something goes wrong with this blast, then we’re going to have to get out of her fast.”

< Part 18 | Part 20 >

Episode 1 – Leviathan, Part 18

Captain Mayor Brooks

“Still trying to get comms back up, sir.  There’s just a lot of interference and the system is on backup AI . . . saying it’s inadequate is putting it mildly.”

Caraval cursed.  The Hev ship was coming back online, but she was in a poor shape.  Most functions were iffy, and the most key were going to be a nightmare to control without the AI.  And on top of it all, for some reason there was music coming from a speaker, and it definitely wasn’t a genre he liked.

The door opened to the room, and the Hev captain floated in, followed by the ambassador – and Pirra.

Caraval waved her over, and she saluted loosely as she approached.  Her main suit was gone and she was simply in her undersuit – it lacked the heaviest protection and all additional equipment, but it would still provide some basic protection from radiation and vacuum.

“How bad?” he asked.

She shrugged and tapped her ear.

Reaching into his pocket, he took a kit and handed it over.  Just a basic system that could at least hook up with hers – it helped using the same gear.  Hev equipment was far too non-standardized for it to be an option for them.

“The suit couldn’t take it,” she finally answered, not meeting his eyes.  He knew that Moth-Owls were even flightier about eye contact when nervous than humans.

“And you?” he asked.

“I want a check-up when we get back.  But I don’t have any visible signs.”

She stared suddenly, off to the side, and Caraval followed her gaze, to Tred, who had frozen looking at them.  The horror and shock on his face was likely what Pirra was feeling.

“Focus on the comms,” he ordered the man, and turned back to her.  “Is it still spreading?”

“Yes, I don’t think it’s going to stop.”

“We need to amputate, then.”  He sighed.  “If this ship can handle surgery.”  The way it was slapped together, he wasn’t sure.

“It’s contained – for now – to an external module.  It was originally meant to be detachable, though I’m not sure it is now.”

“Human,” a new voice said.

Caraval looked over and saw the Hev Captain there.  He seemed angry, but he wasn’t sure why.  His system seemed to have come back on, so Caraval reasoned he’d been listening to their conversation.

“Yes, Captain?  Good to be able to have proper introductions.  I’m Lieutenant Commander Caraval.  You know Pirra, of course.”

Pirra stared with cold eyes at the Captain and the Hev shot her back angry looks.

“I want her off my vessel,” the Hev hissed.  “Contaminated!  We save no others, but she comes out?”  He gnashed his teeth.

It caught him off-guard, but he replied quickly.

“She has no signs of contamination, and she was not in there long.  In the vast majority of secondary infections, it takes heavy contact or extended exposure to cause changes to biological beings.  Pirra, did you have either?”

She shook her head.

The Captain snarled.  “Not good enough!”

He leaned in, and suddenly his voice was quiet – so quiet that Caraval’s system barely even picked up the words.

“Mutiny.  They will not abandon the trapped,” he hissed.

Caraval’s eyes wandered over the Captain’s shoulder – and across the room, he saw at least a dozen Hev huddled together.  They had their arms around each other’s shoulders, heads close in.  He’d seen that before in Hev groups.  It was a psych-up before they prepared to face death.

Almost breathless, his eyes fixed upon the Hev, he whispered.

“Friendly channel only.  Prepare for quick evac.  May have internal strife.”

Pirra’s system wasn’t on that channel, he realized.  He glanced over.

“Pirra, we should listen to the Captain,” he said, a little louder than normal.  “Return to the ship and get in the isolation pod.”

She stared at him for a second in confusion – they didn’t have an isolation pod.

His eyes went from her to the Hev, and her eyes tracked it.  Seeing the group, realization dawned on her.  With a nod, she began to drift back towards their ship.  While their rescue suits were as tough as high-grade military armor, her undersuit would stop little more than a primitive knife.

The group suddenly broke; the Hev moved quickly by human standards, and began to fan out, their eyes on their captain.

Panic appeared in Captain K’Raaiia’s eyes.  His hands went for the holster at his side – but his sidearm was gone, still in the possession of the Ambassador.

“Captain!” one of the Hev snarled.  Murder was in his eyes.  “We know what you’re plotting!  You will not sacrifice our crewmates so shamefully!”

< Part 17 | Part 19 >

Episode 1 – Leviathan, Part 17

Captain Mayor Brooks

“We have power!” Tred cried.

Hev cheered as the lights came back on.  They were dim, by human standards, but significantly better than darkness.

Caraval looked up at the lights, wondering what they had cost.  “Good.  Get me communications and sensors so we can inform the Craton.”

He turned away, clicking onto Pirra’s channel.  “Lieutenant Pirra, are you there?”

There was silence – as there had been for some time.

They had all volunteered to go into the jaws of death on a routine basis.  He always knew there was a chance that some of them might not make it home.  Just part of the job.  They chose to do it anyway so more people would get to make it home.

But would it have to end even worse for her?  Would it have to end on an alien ship, not even her own, in a fate worse than death?

How could he tell his best friend that he’d sent his wife to that?

A message came.  A single word.  “Commander?”

His heart was pounding in his chest.  “Pirra?  Report status!”

“Situation under control, Commander.”  Something in her voice seemed to crack.  “I think I’m okay.”

Caraval felt a great release of tension in his chest.  “Get down here.  We’re aiming to get in touch with the Craton.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Pirra?”

“Yes?”

“Good job.”

Caraval broke the communication, and he heard Tred’s voice cry out in alarm.

“Sir!” he said.  “We’ve got the Craton on scopes.”

“And?”

The man looked at him with eyes as wide as saucers.  “She’s in trouble, sir.  The Leviathan . . . I think it’s awake.”

“Prepare to launch the shuttle,” Brooks ordered.

A tense energy filled the bridge as the order was carried out.  Everyone aboard felt great trepidation mixed with hope – a heady mixture that could break down even the strongest of discipline, in the Captain’s experience.

Word had just been sent that Cutter had finished his work modifying the shuttle.  As soon as he and his crew had evacuated the hangar, they could launch.

“Crew out, sir.”

“Send it.”

He felt the hum of power through the floor; the bridge was in the middle of a triangle of the three massive magnetic accelerators that the ship used for launching shuttles – or kinetic projectiles.

Even with all the shielding between them and the bridge, one could feel when they powered up.  They were just that massive.

They all felt the shuttle move through the tube – or rather, the magnetic coils pulsing and moving.

“Shuttle away!”

Brooks clicked on his comm.  “Cutter, when the shuttle is at an appropriate distance, begin broadcasting.”

“Understood sir.  System will start automatically at minimum safe distance.  T-minus one minute and fifteen seconds.”

A counter appeared in his vision, and he watched it tick down.  As it hit zero, Cutter’s voice came through again.

“Beginning krahteon emissions.  Krahteon field stabilized.  Distraction online, Captain.”

“Show me,” Brooks said, leaning forward.

An image of the shuttle – a basic, boxy thing – appeared on-screen.  It was rotating in a way that would have made any passengers in it sick.  If they hadn’t already been pasted by the high-speed launch.

“Show us a false-color image of the emissions.”

The image changed, showing the fields of exotic energy.  Invisible to the eyes of most life-forms, in this view they resembled an aurora erupting from the shuttle.  Even at the low power that the shuttle’s small generators could manage, the craft itself was dwarfed.

“It’s beautiful,” he heard someone say softly, but didn’t catch who.

“Cut our own krahteon emissions,” Brooks ordered.  He looked over.  “Is there any change with the Leviathan?”

“Keeping sensors at absolute minimum, Captain,” Urle said.  “Give me a few moments, the system has to piece the data together.”

The transhuman’s head snapped up.  “It’s changing course!”

The tension broke; a cheer went up from the crew pits, and Brooks himself could not help but smile a little.

He let it go for a moment, before calling for silence.  “Everyone, return to your stations.  This isn’t over yet.  Sensors, continue to monitor.  In the meantime, attempt to contact the Hev ship and-“

“Sir!”  Urle’s voice contained a fear that he could not hide.  “Sir, the Leviathan is still following us.”

“It didn’t change course?” he asked.

“It . . . it did.  We’re getting a double reading, it’s like there are now two of them!”

“Not two,” Kell said, speaking for the first time he’d heard since their talk earlier.  “It is one, but is in two places.”

Urle let out a sound of anger that turned to hissing static.  “That’s not possible!”

“It does as it will,” Kell replied.

“Did we end our krahteon emissions?” Brooks asked.

“Yes, sir.  We’re running as dark as we can without shutting down everything.  It shouldn’t even know we’re here,” Urle replied.

“It is not stupid,” Kell said.  “It saw through this trick.”

“Kell, you said this would work,” Urle said.  “Damn it, man!”

“I said it could work.  I still believe it could have.  It simply turns out that it did not.”

Brooks looked to the being.  “Do you have any other suggestions, Ambassador?”  Blaming it would do them no good, and he had a feeling in his gut that Kell was key to the situation.

“I will inform you if I have any,” the Shoggoth replied.  “But I fear we do not have much time.”

Brooks looked back to the screen.  “Project the Leviathan as best we can.”

The image appeared, and he was shocked to see that it appeared larger than earlier.  Their zoom, he confirmed, was the same.  It was closing the distance.

“It’s closer,” Urle said.

“Sensors confirm, Captain – it is gaining on us,” Cenz noted.  “We’re collecting what data we can, but as with anything related to a Leviathan it’s not making a lot of sense beyond the obvious.”  The electronic screen that was his face showed worry and concentration.

Brooks could only look to the dimly-outlined shape of the eye of the Leviathan.  It was fixed forward, perhaps it was so large it could not even move, as with some animals.

But then, it was a Leviathan; a beast that obeyed only what laws of nature suited it.

That eye, though.  It was a trick of his mind to think it, but it felt like it was looking at him.

He forced his attention off it, going to his crew.  He panned over each and every being in his view.  They, too, were staring at the screen, at the Leviathan.

They felt it, too, he realized.  Each and every person who saw that eye felt it was looking at them.

“How long do we have until we are within its Reality Break Shadow?” he asked.

It was critical; crossing the RBS was the point where minds began to break, where matter began to change.  Where any ship would soon meet its end.

Neither Urle nor Cenz answered.

“Officers!” Brooks snapped sharply.  Urle jumped, and Cenz’s face took on a shocked expression.

“My apologies, Captain,” Urle muttered.  “We . . . we predict we are twenty minutes from entering the outer edge of its shadow.”  He did a double-take.  “That . . . yes, that’s right.”

“The shadow on this one is approximately twice the radius of that of any previously-discovered Leviathan,” Cenz noted.  “By the seas, this one dwarfs them all.”

He put Cutter into the channel.  “Can we increase speed?”

“Negative.  Engines already at highest limit due to venting.  Plasma will restore over time, but not enough to increase velocity.”

Brooks hunched forward in his seat, looking into the eye of the Leviathan.  “Begin evacuation of the civilians, and prepare for an emergency transmission to the nearest relay.  We have to warn Earth.”

Urle nodded, though grimly.  “Aye, sir.”

“What is the significance of this?” Kell asked.

Cenz answered.  “Our engine moves us in sublight, through zerospace – and allows us to send messages faster than light – but we cannot do all three at the same time.  Unless . . . we overload the engines.  They will become disabled, but we can send one transmission.”

“And then?”

Cenz hesitated before answering.  “And then we are dead in space.”

< Part 16 | Part 18 >

Episode 1 – Leviathan, Part 16

Captain Mayor Brooks

The room below was some kind of subsidiary server station, and among the racks of add-on processing units she saw the Hev.  They were arranged in rows.  Each one had clung to the floor, it having taken on a surface not unlike roots.  Growing out from the computer core room itself.

This was ground zero, she realized.  But they had come here.  It had to be thousands of them in the room below.

And they were unmoving.  A reddish mist seemed to hang in the air, and red droplets covered most surfaces.

The sidearms floating through the air gave testament as to why.

But there were the cries; it was being broadcast on open air and she’d picked it up.

“Who’s alive down there?” she called on the same frequency.

One of the Hev moved.  They looked almost unchanged, but she knew on some level that they had been the most altered of all.  But his changes were all on the inside.  His head whipped around, and he finally looked up towards her.

The sound he let out wasn’t a sound any living being should make.  She jetted back in fear, and just in time – the shot of a pistol rang out, and the window broke.  Shattered pieces flew past her, hitting her suit, but not penetrating.

He kept firing, a dozen times, but she was away.  The rounds didn’t seem to be able to penetrate whatever the walls had become, but he had actually helped her.

A long shard of window floated past her, one of the least-altered things in the room, and she reached out and grabbed it.

Looking to the computer core, she jetted forward.  There was no way to remove it properly and she had nothing else that would do the job.

She stabbed the shard into the fleshy core.

Wrenching it, she saw black and greenish fluids ooze up, and she shoved it even harder, digging it in as deep as she could, towards where the bottom of the core should be.  Putting her weight into it, she tried to pry the thing loose.

Liquid spattered against her suit, and she knew that it had to be affected by now.  But that didn’t mean she was – the suits they wore were proof against almost anything for at least a time.

If she could just get the goddamn thing out!

Something snapped – for a moment she feared it was the shard, but then the entire crusted core shifted in its socket.

She had little else she could spare, but taking a spare propellant unit from her belt, she shoved it into the hole.  These units were under a lot of pressure, and if she set it to discharge all at once . . .

She jetted back and sent the remote command.

Nothing happened, and she feared that it had become corrupted too quickly.

Then it exploded.

The core was sent careening out of its socket, and immediately a few dim red lights came on, providing only the vaguest of illumination, as the emergency systems kicked in.

That was it!  The AI was no longer forcing the whole system into a shutdown state.

The AI core rebounded off a wall and came at her.  It seemed almost like it wanted to come at her, and the loose, flapping fleshy bits seemed to reach for her.

Eyes widening, Pirra activated her jets and escaped through the narrow hole in the door she’d come through.

She had to leave – immediately.

Letting the shard drift away, she dove down into the narrow tunnel.

Her heart thudded in her chest, and she set her system to automatically repeat a signal to the commander that she had completed her task.  Hopefully it would get through.

The job was done; all she could think now was that she wanted out.  Dying for your mission was one thing, something she didn’t want to do, but she was prepared for.

But once she had finished it, all that was left was trying to survive.

The halls seemed more confused than before, and she tried to follow her course.

Her system seemed to be getting more dim by the moment.  She might have been imagining that, but then her air recycler clicked off.  A strained whirring sound told her it wasn’t just her imagination.

Turning a light to her boot, she saw that the outside was beginning to change color.  It was becoming a dark red, nearly black, the color of Hev blood.

Other spots on her uniform had started to change color – spots where she could recall drops of fluid from the computer core touching.

Had it gotten through her whole suit?  Was she changing?

Fear took over, and she reached down and tore off the boot.  Her underlayer would protect all but her head, and she’d rather brave the air than have an altered object hugging her body.

Throwing off other parts of her suit, she kept hold of only the thrusters.  They looked mostly intact, and were her only method of moving without touching a surface.

She was almost back to the door!  Turning into the corridor that led to it, she tried to see if anyone was watching for her through the window, but saw nothing.

This area was far less corrupted, but even her helmet visor was starting to look different; the window was turning yellowish at the edges, like aged plastic.

Holding her breath, she took it off and threw it away.

She was at the door, and jetted to a stop.  Taking the jets, she pounded at the window.

“Let me in!” she finally yelled, feeling grateful that Hev breathed an atmosphere she could at least tolerate.

A face appeared in the hole, startling her.  It was the Hev captain, K’Raaiia.

He stared at her.  His eyes were cold.  And then he looked away.

Her heart pounded as she realized he was going to leave her in here.  To die, or worse, become something other than herself.

Would she know who or what she was?  Would she have any mind left?

A thousand thoughts and fears she’d never been willing to give voice to before ran through her mind.

There was a sound on the other side.  It sounded like Hev arguing, but with her suit gone she could no longer understand them.

Then she heard a gunshot.

Ducking down, she was shocked when the door opened.

“Take my hand!”

It was N’Keeea, the ambassador.  He had his hand out to her.

She took it, and he pulled her through.

He slammed the door shut, panting with exertion.

“Are you all right?” he whistled in her tongue.  “Are you affected?”

She saw the fear in his eyes, and she knew the risk he had just taken.

“I . . . I think I’m okay,” she replied, finally taking the time to look over her undersuit.

There was no red on it.  No color changes.  No alterations of any kind that she could tell.

N’Keeea had a sidearm in his hand.  He hadn’t had that before.  She looked around.

Five meters down the hall she saw the Captain.  He was unhurt, his expression one of sullen anger – and his holster was empty.

He chittered to her and N’Keeea, and she looked to the ambassador.

“He felt it was too much risk to let you back in,” the ambassador said.  “I disagreed.  We got your alert and the power has come back on.  You may have saved us all.”

Pirra hoped that he had been right.  She didn’t feel any different, but she knew that she could not be sure.

“Glad I could help,” she said weakly.

< Part 15 | Part 17 >

Episode 1 – Leviathan, Part 15

Captain Mayor Brooks

Pirra wondered if the Hev in here would be hostile to her; sometimes, beings altered were hostile to anything and everything, according to old spacers’s stories.  She’d never known if there was any truth to them and she had hoped never to learn.

Thousands had been trapped in here, they’d said, but those few she saw were in corners, facing the bulkheads.  One was gnashing his teeth furiously, but biting nothing.  Others were pulling their fur out in clumps like rad-victims.  All of them showed heavy signs of alteration, elements of their bodies changed in ways that defied description.

She tried not to look at them.  She had a mission to accomplish . . . and she felt a fear of looking at them that bordered on superstitious.

Two lefts . . .  She took them and then took the right.  Looking up at the ceiling for the hole upwards, she began to see the corruption in the ship itself.

The walls were beaded with strange bumps that she felt a sudden fear would open and look at her with metallic eyes.  Nothing happened, but she took every effort to not touch any surface.

“Drone 2, where are you?” she asked, looking around.  It wasn’t here, and they were not supposed to stray far unless ordered.

A beep from behind alerted her and she looked back.

The drone was struggling to keep up.  She wasn’t sure why, until it began to spin.

One of its side thrusters had altered.  It flowed like a liquid, sloshing back and forth, and each time it sloshed away from the main body it seemed to strain, as if trying to pull itself free.

The liquid took a form, like limbs trying to grasp for something, anything.

Before she could give it an order, the liquid seemed to crystallize and shot out to adhere to a bulkhead like a web.  It began to pull the doomed drone towards the surface.

Electronic alerts flashed in her vision, telling her the myriad malfunctions the drone was suffering.

She felt like she was watching a death.

But she couldn’t spare the time.

“Third hole in the ceiling,” she muttered, consciously wiping out all the alerts and removing the drone from her system.  It shut down behind her.

Seeing the hole, and how corrupted it was, she was dismayed at its narrowness.  Could she even get through that without touching anything?

“Drone 1, go through and confirm there’s a path.  Do not touch any surfaces.”

The drone began towards the entrance, and she saw that it could no longer fly straight.

It was the air in here, she realized.  It wasn’t as bad as being in contact with a solid, but it wasn’t helping.  And the deeper they went, the worse the effect was getting.

Looking down the hall, she realized it extended on and on in a way that was not right.  It twisted and turned.  No ship corridor did that, and no ship had a reason to even have a corridor this long.

Was it already affecting her?  She couldn’t know, not yet.

The drone went up into the hole and beeped that it was clear.

Looking up, she thought that if she tucked her arms and legs she could clear it.  Holding her breath, she jetted up as straight as she could.

It was only three meters, but it felt like a kilometer.

As her head came out the other side, she saw the door to the computer room – closed.  But it didn’t matter, as it had turned into a web of frail-looking strands that outlined every shape of the old door.  They had the color of old dried bones.

She’d have to break it.

“Drone 1, cutting laser.  Take this down.”

The drone went at it, keeping back and using jets of air to push each piece of loose debris away from itself and her.

A crackle came on her comm.  It was distorted.  But she could hear two words clearly;

“Pirra . . . hurry . . .”

Her heart fluttered faster in her chest.  “Drone 1, ram the door and break it,” she ordered.

The drone obeyed without question, but she still didn’t feel good about it.

Moving back to avoid the debris, the drone obediently smashed through the door – it was as dry and weak as it looked.  After the first few hits the drone seemed unharmed, but she realized that it was slowly turning the same color as the webs.  Its shape was changing, becoming pointed and slowly swelling at the end until it looked almost like a femur.

Then it shattered on the door.

Letting out a curse, she jetted back to dodge the chunks of door and drone that scattered away from the area.

She felt something hit her boot, but didn’t see damage.  But it might be enough to start to alter it.

Shooting forward, she saw that a hole just large enough had been created.  Tucking her limbs, she ducked through into the room.

The room was an unnatural horror, and even looking at it made her eyes hurt.  She felt tears well in them, and she tried to focus on the computer core.

It was hardly any better to look at; it was a mass of flesh where it had once been metal.  Bulges that pulsed unnaturally covered it, like some sort of organ system.  Liquid moved through arteries that she thought might have once carried coolant.

Looking quickly through the instructions for purging the core, she let out another curse.

“Useless!” she hissed.

There was no interface left, she couldn’t possibly begin a safe shutdown!  There wasn’t even a hard-eject button.

Her comm crackled again, and she listened for anything important, but what she did hear curdled her blood.

It was moaning, it was sobbing.  It was white noise that her brain nonetheless imagined were sounds of pain.  There was no intelligence in it, but somehow she felt like she was hearing pain.  A loss, ending in a quiet whimper.

“It’s just white noise,” she bit out, to hear something in contrast to that horrible sound.

Or was it just noise?

She looked around and saw that there were windows in the room that were intact.  Standing in stark contrast to the metal that had succumbed to the unnatural changes, the windows seemed near perfect.

She moved nearer one, and saw that they were pitted and had large cracks, but appeared otherwise unaltered.

And behind that window she found out where the missing Hev had gone.

< Part 14 | Part 16 >