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

---

“Three hours ago his mind began a surge in activity – mostly meaningless signals,” the doctor said to Verena.

“We’ve seen this before,” she replied.

“This time it’s different.  The signals coalesced.  We’re able to discern specific concepts and even images from the neural activity.”  The man stopped, his face pale.

Verena understood the signs on him; he was frightened.  Disturbed, even.

Dr. Genson was one of her top doctors in the field of Medical Krahteology, a man with a reputation for being hard to rattle.  But he was due for burnout, she thought – few lasted more than ten years in the field, and he was nearing his eigth.  But this still had to be severe to be disturbing him so clearly.

“Show me the images.”

The man hesitated.  “With respects, Doctor-Admiral, after . . . reviewing the mind-scans, I don’t recommend-“

“Show me,” she ordered.

Genson nodded, just barely tilting his head, and stepped into the side office.

“I gave strict orders for no one else to review them,” he said.  “There are only these print-outs – the digital records had worrying data signatures according to the watchdog AI, so I had them deleted.”

It was a common and frustrating occurrence; data of certain kinds in their field tended to corrupt themselves when stored digitally.  There was no accounting for it, but keeping even the corrupted data had been known to cause para-psychological issues in AIs that had access to them.

They had numerous ‘watchdog’ simulated AIs whose sole purpose was to be exposed to potentially dangerous data and then monitored for corruption.

It made them more akin to the parakeets that miners used to take with them into tunnels than watchdogs, she mused.

Genson took a folder and offered it to her.  He turned away.

Opening it, she looked at the images discerned from Michal Denso’s brain.

They were, at first glance, merely geometric shapes in various colors; it was common for preliminary mind-scans to give such results, but the time stamps showed these were from well past the point they should have been formulating as proper images.

Unless these were proper images.  The longer she looked at them, the more she began to see the detail that she had at first glance glossed over.

The shapes were wrong.  Viewing them was causing her heart rate to rise, even though she felt no fear.  There was a depth to the image, as if it was not two-dimensional, but deeper than that.

It was all in her mind, of course.

Or . . . was it?

Sometimes she had had cause to think on the changes to her mind, to wonder if the alterations to her brain had affected her in ways beyond mere damage.

Was she seeing more than others?

Because the image no longer looked like an image.  It was like a portal into a deeper space, three-dimensional when logic and reality said it was incapable of being that.

And it looked like . . . a place.  A ship.

A corridor.

It was on a ship, for certain, but nothing about it was right; wherever she looked at it, it seemed nearly normal, with just some hint of being off, but in the margins of her visions everything seemed to shift, to move in ways that were a mockery of reality.

She moved to the next image.  This one was in shades that brought to mind congealing blood; yet even in the parts that were all the same shade there was detail, images hidden in ways that she could not have described.

Something deeper, something further in.  She focused harder on it, knowing it was unwise, but lacking the ability to be afraid.

This was not a corridor.  No, this . . . it was a room.

A berth on a starship.

Perhaps on the Sunspot?

She struggled to tear her eyes off it, but while she could no longer fear she still knew that she had to continue her work.

There was one last image, and she hesitated before looking at it.  A voice in her mind reminded her that there was danger here; very real, and not imagined.

Verena looked at the last image.

This one was not at all like the others; it was as clear as a photograph, clearer than any image she’d ever seen scanned from a mind.

It was a Dessei.  Its body was dessicated, as if it had died in the vacuum of space and been exposed to the radiation of a star for an era.

Its eyes were hollow sockets, massive holes that dipped down into the depths of its skull.  Its mouth had been detached entirely, leaving just a third empty gaping hole.

“What is this last image?” she asked.

“We . . . we don’t know, ma’am,” Dr. Genson said.  “I’ve never seen an image so clear, and we have no idea why this in particular would appear in his mind-“

“Has Denso said anything?” she asked.  “Or have we detected any mental audio?”

The man swallowed.  “No psychic audibles, but he spoke out loud when this incident began.”

“What did he say?”

“He said that ‘we don’t belong here’.  No one was actually in with him at the time, so we assumed it was simply an old memory.”

Verena said nothing, and stuck the photos back into the folder.  “Seal these and store them under my authorization.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Giving the folder to him, she went back into the other room.

“Has there been any change in his mass?” she asked.

“Yes, doctor,” one nurse said.  “An increase of 371.4% since this incident occurred; still within structural safety for the room.”

She looked at the data herself.  The man’s body had no apparent change in weight or density, yet gravimetric detectors noted that the mass present in the area he occupied had increased to nearly ten tons.

That much change, in three hours.

“Measure krahteon activity,” she ordered.

There was a silence.

“Doctor?  We don’t have that equipment in here . . .”

“Then bring it,” she said.

“With respects, doctor, altered patients have never been known to cause krahteonic emissions . . .” Genson began.

“Be quiet,” she told him.  “Have you ordered it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the nurse said.  “We have a drone with basic krahteon scanners being sent here from the external sensor suite.”

Verena did not reply, merely watching Denso.  The man was not moving on his bed, his eyes closed.  If not for the sensors that said he still lived, she could have taken him to be a corpse.

Perhaps he was, in reality.

The drone arrived.

In silence, it was sent into the room.

“Beginning sensor feed, doctor.  Okay, we’re getting- oh my god.”

The sensor suite on the drone was simplistic, but reliable.  It was, in essence, a micro-grid of artificially-created neurons and sensory cells akin to those in human eyes, skin, and nostrils.

The grid functioned by detecting alterations in the artifical cells.

Small amounts of krahteons functioning almost like a cancer; affecting cells that . . . changed.

The effect was typically subtle, but now . . .

Now they were watching the changes in real time.

“Emissions are over 20KR . . .” the nurse said, panic in her voice.

20 KR.  Forty times the safety threshold for personnel.

“Everyone, calmly leave the chamber,” she ordered.  “Send all data to a remote station and take shifts of no more than fifteen minutes observing the feed.”

The nurses and doctors almost stumbled over each other to get out of the room, and Verena went last.

Dr. Genson was waiting for her outside, his eyes wide, his face blanched nearly white.

“I want all staff who have been near the patient in the last three hours to get full safety tests,” she told him.

“And what about Denso?  My god, this is the first time I’ve seen . . .”

“Focus, Doctor,” she chided.  “Seal the area.  No one goes in without my permission after this.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the man said.

Verena headed for the door.

“Doctor Urle – where are you going?” Genson asked.

Turning deliberately, she stared at the doctor.

“I must to speak to Captain Brooks,” she said.

Emotions roiled across the man’s face, panic foremost among them.

She found herself disappointed.  The man’s emotions were running him, and she no longer had tolerance for that.

“Dr. Genson, focus.  Are you capable of carrying out my instructions?” she demanded.

The man saw no pity on her face, and took a moment, forcing himself to calm.  Fear was still in his eyes, but he managed to compose his other features.

“Yes, ma’am,” he told her.

“Good.  Don’t disappoint me, doctor.”

She left without another word.

---

< Ep 3 Part 34 | Ep 3 Part 36 >

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

---

She woke up on the floor.

They’d gone to sleep again, in the middle of walking.

Damn it!  Was this some sort of weapon?  Trying to disable them?

But no one was around.  They had no guns pointed to their heads, they weren’t in chains.

“System,” she asked blearily.  “How long were we asleep?”

“Minus 71,711 hours,” her system told her.

She blinked.  “Come again?”

“Negative 71,711 hours,” her system told her.

“Uhhh . . .  Tred, you hear this?”

The man was rubbing his face.  “Did we fall asleep again?”

“Or something.  Our system says we slept negative seventy-thousand hours.”

“That . . . I don’t think that’s right,” Tred replied.

She stared at him a moment.  “. . . Let’s get moving,” she finally said.  “You keep trying to find out how long we were asleep.”

Tred mumbled to himself as they moved.  It was not far to the bridge, and they arrived without incident.

“Lock down the doors,” she told Tred.  She went to the system.

“Has anyone been in here?” she asked.

“Not for over two hours,” the system told her.

That was far longer than she figured they’d been, they must have been asleep over an hour.

Tred was approaching the last door to lock it down when it opened.

It was the same man she’d seen the first time, and he was panicked already.

“Lock it!” he screamed, shoving past Tred into the room.  A bullet hit the doorway where his head had just been.

Tred sealed the door.  “I’ve got it!” he said.

Pirra didn’t reply as she tackled the man.  “Who are you?” she demanded, slamming him onto his back.

The man thrashed wildly under her, his eyes crazed with terror.  “Let me go!” he screamed.  “He’ll get through any moment!”

Pirra’s eyes looked up to the door, her system scanning it.  The door was being overriden – the man on the other side had the command codes for the station.

She spat out a curse.

“Tred, out the other door, meet where we woke up!” she barked, jumping up.  Tred went out the door, and she stopped to hold it for the terrified man.  She had no idea what his story was, but she wasn’t about to let him die.

The other door opened just as the man ran out.  She saw the shooter; he had a pistol in one hand, his aim going across the room.

They locked eyes, and she saw something in them that wasn’t right.  It was not something she could describe in words, but she had seen it in someone else’s eyes, and recently.

The Hev on the trader ship, weeks ago, that had been altered by a Leviathan.

She knew she should slam the door, run as far and as fast as she could, but instead she found herself unable to tear her gaze from the man.

And he just stared back, sizing her up calmly.  His weapon was not aimed at her.

His expression changed sharply, suddenly.  No longer the terrifying calm of a mind broken and reformed into something inhuman, it changed to comprehension.  He saw her, and for some reason-

It scared him.

Like a startled animal, he ran.

She didn’t wait to see if he fully left, slamming the door and finally making her escape.

Adrenaline letdown threatened to make her unsteady on her feet, but she fought the urge to go into shock.

The man had been ready to kill the other stranger, but when he saw her he got freaked out and retreated.  She was unarmed, save for a wrench.  Hardly a match for his handgun.

Why did he fear her?

Ducking into a service room, her map of the layout showed a path she could take that would avoid the main hall.

The mission had just gone to shit, and she had to sort out priorities.  There were at least two individuals on the station who shouldn’t be here, and she felt certain – though she could not have justified it on a report – that something was much more amiss than that.

The failure of this mission was potentially a catastrophe, and that made her objectives clear.  Firstly, she had to make sure that Iago and the rest of the Response Team could still use the station’s zerogate to get out of this cursed system.  She had to secure the station.  But she also had a duty to protect the people under her command – she needed to get Tred into safety.

Carefully, she messaged him.

“Are you safe?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied.  “But I’m also terrified.  Lieutenant, I’ve never taken a course on how to deal with pirates!”

Pirra was amused, despite the fact that she knew Tred meant it.  “Have you had any combat training?”

“Yes, but . . . I didn’t pass,” he admitted.  “My aim gets too shaky when I’m under stress . . .”

“We will avoid a confrontation if possible.  What we need to do is get communications back on so we can contact Lt. Commander Caraval.”

“But I told you we can’t-“

“Think of a way!” she ordered sharply.  “I need you to do what you’re good at and solve this problem, Engineer.”

There was a hesitation on the other end before the man replied.  “Yes, ma’am.”

“Now, we can’t head back to the bridge, so once we meet up, we’re going to make our way to the-“

An insistent beep in her HUD caught her attention.

“Uh, Lieutenant, does that say that an airlock’s been activated?” Tred asked.

“. . . it does.”

There were a lot of potentially bad reasons for someone to be opening an airlock.  Disposing of a body, for one.  Or just trying to vent the station to the vacuum.  A lot of security existed just to prevent such an eventuality, but that didn’t mean they could take it lightly.

“Let’s get down there,” she said.

“But we don’t have any weapons!”

“Then you stay there – or better, head on to the primary bridge engineering node.  It’s a secure compartment on the deck below the bridge, I’ll send you my codes, they will get you access.  Get in there and button the room up – weld the doors shut if you have to.  Just get the generators on!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tred replied.  But he didn’t sound very certain of himself.

“You can do it, Tred,” she told him.  “I believe in your skills.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Tred replied, but she didn’t think he believed her.  “Good luck . . .”

She sent him the codes and moved.  Tred should be able to find his way to the engineering section near the bridge.  It was a cramped space, a paradise for a technically-inclined officer like him.  And due to being so vital it was easily securable.  If he could use the heavy manual locks then their mysterious gunman wouldn’t be able to force his way in . . .

And she wasn’t so sure he was even after them.  He’d been scared of her – and chasing the other man.  She wasn’t about to stake her life on it – nor did she want him to succeed – but it might be important.

She made her way as quickly as she could to the airlock.  It had only been three minutes, but that was more than enough time for a fast decompression.  Hopefully there was still time for her to help if someone needed it . . .

Red emergency lights were all that lit the tunnel.  It was visibly curved, and she crept closer to the airlock.  There was no cover here, and she just had to hope.

The system showed that the room was not even decompressed yet.  Someone had gone in, but that was all.

No, not someone.  Three persons.

Three?

That could be all three of their mysterious individuals; shooter, runner, and the other Dessei.

She looked through the window.

Three beings were standing in there – staring out at space.

Two humans and a Dessei, all male, and all wearing the uniforms of SU officers.  But she did not recognize the humans.

“Hey, I can let you out!” she called, pounding on the glass.

There was no reaction, and she tried to connect to the system and open the door.  They must have been trapped by the gunman, captured, with the threat of decompression hanging over them.

She was careful to watch for any failsafes, the last thing she wanted was to accidentally kill the three . . .

“Decompression program already running,” the system told her.

“What?  Did I trip something?” she asked, her heart pounding.

“Negative.  Program has been running for five minutes.”

“Stop program, open internal doors!”

“Program cannot be interrupted,” she system informed her.

“No!” she said.  “When does it end, how long do we have?”

“Program is open-ended,” the system replied.

What?  That made no sense, that meant it was waiting for an input from the three in the room . . .

One of them turned, the Dessei.  He was a young male, and his eyes locked onto hers.

His crest rose and fell in a greeting.  One of the humans turned, and smiled at her then.  A friendly smile like you might offer to any person you met on your day.

Then he pressed the button to activate the airlock.

“No!” she screamed, as the hatch to the vacuum opened.

The blast of air took all three men out.  Their bodies tumbled, but on their faces were the same calm expressions, and they stayed frozen that way for as long as she could see them.

The system spoke in her ear.  “Program complete.  Orders?”

Her mind ran through a dozen potential rescue operations; drones, perhaps.  But all of them had been launched for their mission already.  She had no space suit on, and even if she could, there was no way she could catch the three and bring them back before they died.

The system queried her again.

She could make no response.  Her eyes were stuck on the seconds counting up since the doors had opened.

At fifteen seconds they’d be unconscious.

At thirty she knew they were dead.

Slumping down, she played the events over in her mind.  The men had vented themselves; willingly, intentionally.  They’d seen her, knew help was near.

But they’d killed themselves.

She didn’t even know who they were.  Pirates?  Thieves?  Afraid to be taken alive?

The sound of footfalls made her look up.

She’d been yelling, she realized.  It had to draw attention.  Stepping away from the door, she watched.

The gunman stepped around the corner, looking first the other way, then down at her.

She was already running, but she heard the shot.

A pain burned in her arm, but she didn’t stop, just stumbled.  She heard him running, heard him screaming.

“You don’t belong here!” he said.  His voice was so pitched as to seem mad.

And he was running the other way once again.

---

< Ep 3 Part 33 | Ep 3 Part 35 >

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

---

“Tred!” she called, floating into the room.  It was situated deep in the station, where the spin gravity had no effect.

A clamp wrench floated by.  She grabbed it out of the air.  At least now she had something she could hit someone with.

“Tred?” she called again, floating on.  She tried to stick near the wall so had something to push off in case of trouble.

Her system caught movement in a corner.  Hefting the wrench, she floated towards it.

“Tred?  Is that you?”

“AHHH!” the man screamed, flying out at her.  His face was red with adrenaline, but his eyes widened as he saw it was her.

He was brandishing a sensor wand like a baton, halfway through a swing.  He pulled his swing, but she leaned back, realizing it would never reach her.

“Engineer, stop it!” she snapped.

“Oh god, Lieutenant, I’m sorry!  I thought it was the other Moth-Owl,” he said.

“Other Moth-Owl?  You saw someone else, too?”

“Yeah!  I think it was a male, but . . .” he trailed off.  “My system wouldn’t give me any information, and I just don’t really look at people’s faces . . .” he muttered.  “But he had a bigger crest – that means it’s a male, right?”

“Usually,” she replied.  “What color were they?”

“Green, like you.  Maybe a little darker?”

She wanted to snap that it sounded like he was asking her again, but she pushed that down, and kept her eyes scanning for threats.

“I also saw someone else.  A human, on the bridge.  He ran, but I couldn’t catch him, then he just . . .”

“Disappeared!  That’s what the Moth-Owl in here did.  He was angry, his crest was almost straight-up, and he threw a plasma injector at me.  It must have been an old one, but it’s bizarre because we recycle used ones and the list of information says that the injectors haven’t been replaced for a year, so why would it be-“

“Okay,” she said, calmly.  A straight-up crest was panic, not anger – but lashing out was usually a normal response of a panicked Dessei.  “We should head back to the bridge and lock it down.  These people clearly did not expect anyone else to come here, and we have a duty to keep sensitive tech out of their hands.”

“Do you think they’re pirates?” Tred asked, goggling at her.

“Possibly.  But come on,” she grabbed his arm and started to pull him.

“Wait, what about the fusion generator?  It’s a very dangerous device in the wrong hands!”

She glanced at it.  “It’s offline right now, yes?  We need to go to the bridge and cancel your scan so we can get a message to Lt. Commander Caraval.”

“We can’t cancel it yet,” Tred replied.  “It needs to go for a full six hours.”

“What?  Why can’t you cancel it?” she asked.

“The plasma injectors are covered in nano-probes.  If we try to reactivate it right now it’ll melt them all – not just destroying them but creating impurities in the plasma stream.  Do you know how unstable that would make the fusion reaction?”

She actually had no idea, but context alone made it clear.  “Can we clear them out sooner?”

“They’re not smart probes.  They go in, do their job, then crawl out.  We could . . . flush the injectors, but that still takes two hours with a full engineering complement.”  He wiped his brow nervously.

“Damn it,” she muttered.  She didn’t know that his scan would disable the reactor for that long . . . he’d even asked for her input, and she’d made the call.

“It’s really not a good idea to leave this unattended,” he said.  “The security systems are disabled for the scan.  It’s why we never do more than one system scan at a time on the Craton.  Here, though, they only have one fusion reactor . . .”

“This place is not defensible to us, and the bridge is more key,” she said.  “We’ll seal all doors and bulkheads behind us as we go – that should secure the room sufficiently for a few hours.”

Nodding, Tred came with her.

Pirra wished she had a sidearm, but there was no weapons locker on the station – it had been cleared out when the crew had been evacuated.

At each set of doors they came to, she tampered with the system to prevent the recording of their actions.  It should keep the intruders from tracking them as they moved through the station.

The gravity was beginning to return as they headed up the third spoke towards the rotation area.

“Lt. Pirra, do you think-” Tred asked, before cutting off.

---

< Ep 3 Part 32 | Ep 3 Part 34 >

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

---

She must have fallen asleep.

Pirra sat up in the command chair, blinking and looking about blearily.

The room was dark.  Wait, what room was this?

It was the bridge of the Monitor Station, she realized.  Right, she was stationed here for a few days while Iago took the rest of the team . . .

She remembered the whole thing, rubbing her forehead.  They were in the outer reaches of the Terris system.

It was so dark.  Why were the lights off?

“Computer, lights,” she ordered.

They increased – but just slightly.

“Computer, why are the lights dim?”

“Operating on emergency power, due to primary reactor being offline.”

Offline?  “Why is the primary reactor off?”

“The Primary Reactor has been taken offline for a Level 12 diagnostic.”

Damn it!  She hadn’t realized that that’s what Tred’s diagnostic entailed.

Looking at the time, her system helpfully informed her that she’d been asleep for nearly an hour.  “Where is Tred?” she asked.

“Engineer Tred is in the engine room.  His condition is normal.”

She almost forced a laugh.  The system had read her so well that it knew she was concerned.  Damn her if the AIs were almost too smart.

“All right,” she said, realizing that there wasn’t a deep problem here.  As long as the reactor would come back on in time for Iago’s return all would be well.

Unless something went wrong . . .

“Computer, do we have external communications?”

“We can receive messages but we cannot send messages,” the AI told her.

That would be okay . . .  If they got a message from Iago then they could interrupt the scan and be ready to help them.

That settled that.  The system would have awoken her if there was a message – and she double-checked to be safe – so there was no issue with having fallen asleep.  She hadn’t even felt tired before.

It felt so claustrophobic on the bridge.  She reached for her drink, fumbling as it wasn’t where she thought she’d left it.  Finding it, she took a sip-

And spat out the nasty stuff in there.

“What the hell?!” she asked.  This wasn’t her drink!  She’d been drinking salt water, but this was . . .

She looked down into the cup.  It was coffee in there.  She never drank coffee.

It wasn’t her cup, either.  Putting it back, she looked around for her own.

But she couldn’t find it.  This wasn’t right.

“Computer, has Engineer Tred left the fusion reactor area?”

“He has not,” the computer replied.

“. . . Has he been asleep?”

“Yes.  Engineer Tred’s sleep coincided with your own.”

Something was wrong here.  “Computer, why did-“

A blood-curdling scream came over the comm.

Pirra lept to her feet, hand going to the spot her sidearm should have been.  But those hadn’t been issued for this mission, she realized.

“Tred!  Tred, come in!”

“Lieutenant!  Are you all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she replied.  “Was that you?”  It hadn’t sounded like Tred, but she couldn’t be sure.

“No!  I thought it was you, but it sounded human . . .”

It certainly hadn’t sounded like a Dessei.  “Scan the station.  Confirm we’re alone-“

The door to the bridge opened, and a man she had never met before stepped on.

She stared at him, and he stared back, shock making them both pause.

“Who are you?” she demanded, snapping back to reality.

The man said nothing, taking a hesitant step back.  His uniform was SU, but her system provided no information on him.

“Identify yourself,” she said, taking a step towards him.

The man panicked and ran.

“Stop!” she ordered, chasing after him.

She thought she could catch him, but as she followed him down the curving tunnel everything distorted.

It felt like the air was knocked out of her.  She staggered – but the other man kept going, opening a hatch and jumping through.

Trying to get back into stride, she stumbled to the last point she’d seen him.  He’d gone deeper into the station, where the gravity was lower.

The room was almost empty, with just a glass meeting table in the center.  There was nowhere to hide.

She queried the system to give her data on the opening and closing of doors to hopefully track the man.

“The door across the room has not been opened for six years,” the system informed her.

But the man had come in here, and there was no other way out.  Yet he was not here.

“Locate all individuals on the station,” she ordered.

A list came up.  It was just her and Tred.

---

< Ep 3 Part 31 | Ep 3 Part 33 >

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

---

It has been two days since I dispatched Response Team One to violate the Exclusion Zone around the Terris System.

Dr. Verena Urle has communicated with me very sparely since my action.  I know that she is no longer capable of feeling hurt or insult, and so she must instead simply be unsure of my judgment or unable to trust me.

I regret that, but I still believe it was a necessary move.

Michal Denso’s condition has remained mostly the same; his mass has continued to increase, but at a slow rate.

I have attempted to speak to Ambassador Kell regarding the situation, but the being has refused to respond to any message I send nor open its door.  I am hesitant to press my luck with him again on this matter.

There is nothing I can do but wait.

The time has not been unproductive, however.  We’ve gotten many of the cloning vats we confiscated from New Vitriol transferred to the care of the doctors on MS-29.  Thus far, their prognosis for the clones has been better than we hoped, and they now estimate that as many as 60% will survive.

It will not be long before the oldest of them comes into this world.

As well, we have been welcoming aboard the thousands of people from the Medical Station who will be leaving with us.

The ship is beginning to feel crowded.

---

The last of the crawlers went through the door, and Sulp let out a relaxed sigh.  “That’s it,” he said, grinning.  “Once that line gets off the ship, we’ll be done with this whole mess.”

“I will be very pleased once the last of them are receiving proper care,” Dr. Y replied.  “Your description of it being a mess is due to the spillage and biological waste, I presume?”

Sulp grunted.  “Just don’t like them being on the ship.  No fault of theirs, but all the same.”  He turned and marched away, towards his office.

Dr. Y waited patiently, running simulations on various meanings of the man’s words based on his knowledge of the man.

Spacerfolk like his – who lived in the void in caravan fleets and never called a star their home – were often considered quite callous by outsiders.  But he knew from a great number of sociological studies that these hardnesses, and especially their manner of speech that seemed to place lives in low value were only coping mechanisms in their culture for the elevated mortality rates.

Humans often needed to devalue the dead to cope with the numbers lost.  An unfortunate thing, but psychologically understandable.

Still, perhaps the man simply was uncaring.  He was known for being incredibly rude to many, at least by normal standards of behaviour, and-

“Doc,” Sulp said, shoving a small box at him.  “Make sure Dr. Urle gets these.  Or whoever’s in charge of the vat kids.”

Y took the box.  They were slips of paper with common spacer names on them.

“What is the provence of these?” he asked.

“They’d been stuck to a lot of the tanks,” Sulp explained, taking out a cigar from his pocket and putting it in his mouth.

“Commander, to inhale smoke fumes is supremely unhealthy.  While I can replace damaged lungs, I’d much prefer not to have to-“

“Just the once, doc.  I need it.”  Sulp’s voice was softer than normal.

Full of emotion, Y thought.  Yes, his simulations agreed; the man was weighed down with feelings.

Dr. Y analyzed that; not in terms of quantifying it, but taking it as true and extrapolating from there.

Cloning was a very deep taboo among spacers; though sometimes desirable, it rarely went well.  He scanned over the report Pirra had given to Cenz and hence been shared to his department, regarding Sulp’s comments about it.

“So these are the names of the clones,” Y said, looking into the box.  There were two-hundred and forty-seven slips.

“Yep,” Sulp replied.

Taking one in his hand, Y looked over the text.  The name Gres was written sloppily on the paper.  It was crinkled in spots that made it seem to have gotten wet.  He analyzed the surface; was it spilled nutrient fluids?  If so it was likely crawling with bacteria . . .

But no.  There was a higher salinity than expected.  Mostly water traces with lipids and proteins-

Ah, yes.  He understood.

Below the names, he saw, in neater writing, a tube number.  It was Sulp’s handwriting.

“I will make sure that these get to the clones they came from,” Dr. Y said.

“You do that, doc.  I’ll be grateful.  I bet Lieutenant Pirra will be, too.”

Dr. Y looked to the pile again.  The odds on these clones surviving had risen.  But 40% of them would still likely go unused, if they were distributed evenly.

He hated that, he realized.  Rarely in his existence had he found he hated anything, not even biological beings who feared and distrusted AIs.

But he hated it when he could not save a life.

“It is unfortunate Pirra is not here to say goodbye,” he commented.

“Better she isn’t,” Sulp growled, turning and walking away.

Standing a moment and sifting the names, committing them all to memory, Dr. Y then turned and left the empty room as well.

---

< Ep 3 Part 29 | Ep 3 Part 31 >

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

---

The equatorial ring of the Craton never slept.  With her population in the tens of thousands, there were always some awake and about, no matter the hour.  The ship kept a 24-hour day/night cycle, but even late at ‘night’, when the lights dimmed and the great screens overhead showed a night sky, people were enjoying the amenities of the ship.  It was noticeably fewer than in daytime, and the dimmed lighting lent it the feel of an evening, but that was all.

Dr. Verena Urle had gone nearly halfway around it, seeking to just walk and exhaust herself, before she realized she was being followed.

Her system did not recognize the man.  He was neither a member of the Craton‘s complement, nor from the Medical Station.  He was not even one of the recent people who boarded the ship from the Begonia system.

That left only one option.

Stopping, she turned to face him.  “Ambassador,” she said politely.

The man continued towards her, stopping just a few feet away.  “Good evening, Doctor.”  His hair, that had been a dull brown, turned green.

“I was under the impression that your people kept their hair green to allow us to know who you are,” she said.

“It is a courtesy,” Kell replied.  “Not a promise.”

“Is there a reason you were following me?” she asked.

“You wished to find me, and so I presented myself.  I am not adverse to talking to you.”

Unless Zachariah had told the Ambassador, there was no way he should know about her interest.  But seeing as he did, his answer made some sense – it served her purposes to play along for now.

“I see,” she replied.  “You are correct.  I do wish to speak with you.”

“Ask your questions,” Kell told her flatly.  He blinked; a slow deliberate action.  It seemed practiced at appearing fully human in such behaviours most of the time; she wondered if it made this conscious error to appear less human or if it was truly distracted from its . . . performance.

“When I first met you on the Medical Station, I was surprised by my lack of reaction to you.  It is very common, as I understand – and as well, there was something about you that was . . .”

“Familiar,” Kell supplied.

“Precisely put,” Verena said.  “Why is this, Ambassador?  At first I believed that perhaps it was your shape itself.  That you replicated someone famous.  But that does not fit; I have run your appearance through multiple databases and found nothing.”

Kell arched his eyebrow.  “Perhaps we should walk as we speak.  There are many around.”

She considered, then nodded.  Curious that the being should wish to walk; part of her thought his desire bespoke a discomfort; the adrenal urge to flight.

But he was not human.  Perhaps Shoggoths had similar patterns of behaviour, but she did not know.

They took a turn that brought them into one of the ship’s gardens.  The green oasis in the ship was both a garden for making fresh food for the populace as well as helping morale; seeing the plants and water served to calm many.  Fish swam in some ponds, and though they could theoretically be eaten they largely served to simply help make the system more natural and appealing.

Water, though, she noted.  Shoggoths were aquatic beings, she understood.  Another comfort for the Ambassador, perhaps?

She did not give voice to that question, though.  She had more important information to acquire.

“Can you tell me why you seem familiar to me?” she asked.

Kell had fallen into step beside her, and glanced to her.  “Your kind are always asking us questions.”

“Doctors?” she asked.  “And it should be noted that you came to find me.”

“It was merely an observation, and I meant humans.  The alien beings sometimes ask questions, but humans do so more than any.”

“So you will answer my question, then,” she replied.

“First I would like to make a statement; do you understand why my kind are so bothered by the endless questions?”

“No,” she admitted.

“Because we do not ask each other questions.  We have been the only beings we . . . communicate with, for a very long time.  And we do not even have a way to ask a question.”

“That is intriguing,” she admitted.  “How, then, do you impart information?”

“When two Shoggoths touch, we share our knowledge.  It is not a willful event, but the inevitable result of contact.  Thus, among my kind the only way that one might keep a secret is by . . . isolation.”

“I see.  I must guess then, either your people accept that all information is shared or else you are all very hermetic.”

“A mix of both.  Anything one of us knows will be shared between all of the rest of us eventually.  the amount of time does not matter, because it will be known and we will all still be alive for the repercussions.”

“This would seem to suggest you would be more open with your information, rather than your . . . notable lack of interest in answering our questions.”

“The structure is strange.  And your kind – you can keep secrets.  I have told Zachariah Urle before that my kind do not lie.  It is something of a lie in itself; we are more than capable of the act, but we choose not to, even to your kind.  If any of us did, it would become known among us.”

“And you would disapprove of that?” she asked.

“In a sense – yes,” he answered.

“So because you are unaware of lying ever being done you assume that it will never be done,” she said, touching her chin thoughtfully.

Kell hesitated before answering.  “I suppose that would be correct.”

“Given how your universe has changed in the last few months, can you really be certain that none of your kind are lying right now?  They may not care of the ramifications – or they may decide to avoid others of their kind for all of the rest of their lives.”

Kell scowled.  “I do not believe that.”

“Nevertheless, you cannot prove it is wrong at this moment,” she observed.

“This is another reason I dislike questions.  Your kind immediately run with them and then pose more.”

“That is what our circumstances have dictated we become,” she noted.  “But we have digressed from my original question.  How do we know each other, Ambassador?  Because I feel certain I have met you before – some way, some how.  There is a familiarity about you that is . . . were I capable of feeling it, I would likely describe as terrifying.”

Kell stopped and turned to face her.  She mirrored him.

“You have met something like me,” he replied.

The words hung in the air, distant voices and the burble of flowing water the only sounds.

“At Terris,” she said.

“Yes,” Kell replied.  “That is the connection you feel.  I both am and am not like the beings you call Leviathans, just as I both am and am not like other life from Earth.”

She looked away.  Adrenaline was flowing through her body, she realized; her heart rate was up.  But she felt nothing; her body’s automatic reactions had kicked on, but her mind could not process the information.

It was the closest she had come to feeling in years.  But it was not the real thing, it was only a mockery of true emotion.

Kell was watching her carefully, and she saw an emotion on his face; sadness, she recognized.  But why?  At one time she might have understood, but right now she didn’t know why he would feel sad when she felt so hollow.

“I cannot help you, doctor.  I am sorry, but . . . I do not know how to heal others.”

“But you see the damage?” she asked.

“Yes,” he told her.  “It is . . . not damage, not per se.  A part of you has changed, and it cannot be changed back.  I saw this, from the moment I met your daughters.”

She looked up to him sharply.  “My girls?  You saw this change in them?”

“Yes and no.  There is a connection between you and them – they came from you and the connection between you all is strong.  When you were changed, so were they – in a lesser way.”

Her mind was racing with this new information.  She should not be taking the word of any being without proof, but she found that she could not disbelieve him.  Even besides his claim of not lying, his words simply spoke to something . . . real.  Something that she could not quantify, but believed.

“It will not cause them harm,” Kell told her.

“But it’s why they did not have a reaction to meeting you, isn’t it?” she asked.  Getting the words out were difficult; she felt nothing, but her body was reacting with a weakness that she could no longer understand.

“I believe so.  What you encountered at Terris was something of a scale that dwarfs my existence, its effects so profound that . . .”  Kell trailed off.

“What?” Verena asked.

“I have said enough on the topic.  You understand the ramifications well enough,” Kell replied.

Verena took a moment to try and calm herself.  Her heart was still pounding in her chest, and she felt clammy.

“I can understand now why Captain Brooks holds your word in high regard,” she said.  “Are you aware that he has sent a mission to the Terris system?”

“A prudent move,” Kell replied.  “Just as a thread exists between you and the Leviathan of that system, a far stronger one is between it and the being you call Michal Denso.”

“We have never seen a reaction like this before.  Are there others who are just as affected?  Is everyone who was at that battle connected to it in a way?”

“In their own way.  It will manifest differently in each individual.”

“Captain Brooks told me that you believe we should destroy Denso.  Do you stand by that?”

Kell nodded emphatically, a single sharp gesture.  “Yes.  You must destroy it.”  His eyes closed, and his head hung, as if a great weight lay upon him.

“While you still can.”

---

< Ep 3 Part 28 | Ep 3 Part 30 >

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

---

“Verena, come in,” Zach said.

“I apologize for being late,” Verena said.  Zach tried to look past her flat tone and just accept the meaning he knew it had.

But she was almost an hour late.  That was too long for children to wait, and they’d started eating a half hour earlier.

Now, as they were enjoying dessert, Verena finally sat down.

Urle had hardly eaten, his food just moved around on its plate.  Verena took a bite of her chicken, making no comment on it.

“It is good to see you, girls,” she said.

“Hi, mom!” Persis said.

“Hi, mom,” Hannah echoed, with much less energy.  Her sweet pickles sat on her plate, and she poked at them.

“Go ahead and finish your dessert,” Zach told them.  “Your mom and I have something exciting to tell you.”

“Ooh, what is it?” Persis asked, grinning.

Hannah looked alarmed.  Her eyes went from her father to her mother and back, but she said nothing.

“Let’s not spoil it right away,” Verena said.  “First I have some presents for you girls. And then I would like to hear about how you’ve been and what you’ve been up to.”

“Yay, presents!” Persis said, hopping up and running over.

“Don’t forget to finish your- ah, it’s fine,” Zach said.  They’d eaten dinner already.  Getting them to finish everything was always a challenge, but since Verena had been coming he’d picked things he knew they loved the most.  It had worked for Persis, but Hannah had been moody all evening.

The gifts Verena gave them were pendants of dolphins – the girls had always loved them, and wanted to see them in person.

“Thanks so much!” Persis said.  Hannah said nothing until Persis elbowed her.

“Ah – thanks mom,” she said.

Urle tried to hide his concern.  His eldest daughter had been in a funk since she’d learned they were coming here.

It was hard to blame her.  She’d been five when Verena had been changed, old enough to remember it – at least somewhat.  And her mother going missing for months had definitely been an ordeal for her.

Even after they’d met her again – Verena had barely reacted to them.

She had changed a lot since then, he thought.  Now she was reacting to the girls in every way she should – albeit flatly.  That was at least better than at first.

“This is my Tedian Moon Fluff, her name is Penelope,” Persis said, holding the little fake pet.

“Ah, I see.  I have not heard of those,” Verena admitted.  “Is it actually alive?”

“No.  It’s just a machine but I still think it likes me,” Persis said.  “I mean, machines can be people too, right?  Like Dr. Y.”

“That is true, but this is not as advanced as Dr. Y,” Verena told her.  “It seems cleaner than a hamster, though, so I am glad.”

She looked to Hannah.  “Do you have a Moon Fluff as well?”

“Yes,” Hannah replied.

“What did you name yours?” Verena asked.

“I named him Genocide,” Hannah said, still poking at her pickles.

Zach sputtered and nearly choked on his food.  “Hannah!  You did not name it genocide!”

“I did!” Hannah snapped.

“That’s a horrible name,” he replied.  “Why would you do that?”

“Because everything is horrible!” she yelled, jumping up.  “You said mom was here, but that’s not mom!  She’s as real as the moon fluff – just a weird thing that looks like it’s alive!”

Zach was too shocked for words.  He looked to Verena – and saw that she was looking at Hannah as if she was an interesting experiment instead of her daughter having a meltdown.

“Go to your room,” Verena said calmly.  “And let out your emotions in there if you need to, Hannah.  Your father and I will be out here.”

“I hate you!  You’re nothing to me!” Hannah yelled.  She ran towards her room, a loud sob coming from her as she disappeared.

Zach rose to his feet swiftly, but Verena grabbed his wrist.

“Let her calm down for a time,” she suggested, before looking down to Persis.  “Are you okay?” she asked her youngest daughter.

The girl nodded.  “I think I’ll go to my room, too,” she said softly.

After she was gone, Zach slumped into his seat.  “That could have gone better,” he muttered.  “We didn’t even get to bring up your idea . . .”

“I am not surprised.  Children are emotional.  I know it is unfair, but I believe it would be better if you spoke to her after this.  I do not feel that she will be willing to open up to me,” Verena replied calmly.

And Zach knew that Verena probably had no idea what she should say, either.  He nodded.  “I’ll do that.”

“Before I go, there is something else important I need to ask you about,” Verena continued.  She reached into her bag and took out a pad.

“Tell me what you know about the Shoggoth Ambassador.”

Zach sat up.  “What?”

“Kell, it is called.  I understand you’ve interacted with it on numerous occasions.  I’d like to know more about it,” Verena said.

“You want to talk about Kell?” Zach grunted.  “Verena, I’m not sure this is the time to-“

“I know that emotions are high – surely for you as well.  But I need to know more – this is important, Zachariah.”

Urle stared at his ex-wife for a long moment.  The woman still seemed completely calm and collected.

“What do you want to know?” he asked wearily.

“What does the ambassador tell you about its past?”

“Nothing,” Urle said.  “We’re not close, Verena.  He’s spoken to me a few times and I’ve spoken to him.  I’m not particularly comfortable around him.”  He paused.  “Though that has been getting better recently.”

“Yes, I understand ‘Shoggoth Shock’ is very common – some say universal.  However – I did not have that reaction,” she told him.

“Okay.  Well, I’ve actually seen that before,” he said.  “The girls never seemed bothered by him.  They’ve even met him up close and they were . . . well, they seemed just very curious about him.”

Verena leaned forward pensively.  “The girls?  Has anyone else had such a mild reaction?”

“Not that I can think of,” Urle replied.

She thought for a moment.  “Zach, whose body is he using?”

“What do you mean?”

“His form – it is a very detailed recreation of a human.  Is it a specific person?  If so, who?”

“I . . . don’t know, to be honest,” Zach replied.  He’d never thought about it before.  “Why?”

Verena studied his face, hesitating a moment.  It made Zach uncomfortable in a strange way; the woman no longer felt any nervousness, so why was she waiting?

“When I met the Shoggoth for the first time, I felt that I had met it before,” she said.  “I did a search to see if I could match its form to anyone I have met – it occurred to me it might take a shape familiar to strangers.  But my searches turned up nothing.”

“Then perhaps he just invented a person,” Urle suggested.

“If so, then its ability to mimic the human form is so much better than we anticipated.  His body displays healed scars, small asymmetry at a deep level, and even puts out the chemical signals of early osteoporosis.  Why would it go through so much trouble to recreate these signs?”

Urle hesitated.  “Dr. Cenz has reported before that he even has a full organ system.  It’s . . . mysterious, but I’ve never questioned it deeply.”

“I am,” Verena replied.  “Zach, there is a situation on the station.  I cannot go into details, but I am concerned that it may . . . escalate.”

Zach felt the back of his neck prickle.  “What do you mean?”

“I cannot tell you details.  But I must inform you that there is the potential of a threat.  I do not know how large.  If it was large enough, I cannot guarantee it will not endanger this station.”

“Do you and the Captain have it under control?” he asked.

“No,” she replied.

“How can I help?”

“By promising me something, Zachariah.  Promise me that if I tell you to take the Craton and flee you will do it.  You will not attempt a rescue of anyone on the station.  Just take yourself and our children – and flee far away.”

Zach slumped back in his seat.  He was quiet a long time.  “Like at Terris,” he said.

He could see her eyes darting back and forth.  He knew that her body still sometimes acted in an excited state; adrenaline pumping, heart rate up.  But she could feel nothing all the same.  Her body still knew even if her mind didn’t.

“Like at Terris, my priority is for my family to be safe,” she said.  “You did the right thing then.  If it comes to it, Zach – do the right thing again.”

Zach closed his eyes, tipping his head forward.

“I promise, Verena.  For the girls, I promise.”

---

< Ep 3 Part 27 | Ep 3 Part 29 >

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

---

“Do you come to the lounges often?” Apollonia asked her, putting her elbows on the table and leaning forward.  She found herself doubting it; people in here seemed to be loosening up a lot; she saw officers of the ship laughing it up, some were even dancing in an open area.

Jaya didn’t look anymore the dancing type than Dr. Y.

But then, what did she know?

“No,” Jaya said.  “Occasionally, but not often.  I came here today to find you, actually.”

“Ah,” Apollonia replied unenthusiastically, finishing the last of her watery drink.  She thought about asking Jaya if she’d order her another, but decided not to push it.  An officer on the ship she trusted slightly more, but the real question was how much of a stickler for the rules the woman was.

“I wish to know if you have decided whether to accept commission aboard the ship yet,” Jaya continued.

“Dunno,” Apollonia replied, looking into her empty cup.

“It is something you should be giving a lot of attention to,” Jaya pushed.

“Let me ask you, Commander – if I was under your command, what would you order me to do?  Everyone else has been stressing how little they will demand of me, but you – you seem the type to demand.  So what would it be?”

Jaya chuckled.  “My, you do have a good read of me, Ms. Nor.  But yes, I do have an idea; I would order you to go back onto the Chain.  That is what you wished to know, I presume?”

“Yeah,” Apollonia replied.  “But you don’t know what it’s like to do that.”

“No, I do not,” Jaya responded.  “But were you under my command, I would order you anyway.  Because there is a very good reason for such an order to be given.”

Apollonia grimaced, slowly leaning back in her seat.  “I have an idea.”

“Then you understand why it matters.”

“I don’t think it’ll do any good,” she replied.  “It’s just torture.  Walking into a field of rusty bayonets.  Do you really need me on the other side?”

Jaya studied Apollonia carefully, taking in the details of the woman.  Sizing her up.  “Quite possibly.  But let me ask you, Ms. Nor – do you know why those very disturbing medical cases are in the Chain?”

“I was told about the battle,” Apollonia replied.  “A lot of people died.”

“Yes.  People die in the line of duty, and they do so willingly.  Do you know why?”

“I’m not an officer,” Apollonia replied.  “I don’t mean to be callous, but I don’t understand why they do it, no.  I really can’t understand it at all.”

She waved across the room.  “I came out here hoping to see a reason.  Everything looks great here.  It’s so suspiciously nice that I just can’t make myself believe it.  Is there something in the water, I keep wondering?  But I don’t see it.  I just see everyone living their lives, doing their jobs like they don’t have a care in the universe.  I wish I could feel that, but I don’t.  I look around, and even though everything looks great I can’t make myself care.  I literally can’t.”

“The best officer I ever knew died in the line of duty,” Jaya said, out of the blue.  “He was the Chief of Engineering on a ship that suffered a catastrophic failure of its zerodrive while in zerospace.  Despite a radiation leak in the affected section, he entered and solved the problem in time to save the ship.”

Apollonia sat up straighter, putting her glass down on the table.

“When the Captain of his vessel gave him the order, this young officer went off without hesitation.  Some reports even say he was smiling, and I think it might be true.  I can tell you why he did it.  Would you like to know?”

“Yes,” Apollonia replied.  Her mouth felt dry.

“Because he was the one who could.  For years after I learned of what happened I hated that this brave young officer was ordered to his death.  But eventually, I understood; this young man did not want to die.  He would have fought with all his might to live, were it only affecting him.  But in this case, he calmly walked to his death because he knew no one else could save the five thousand crew members of his vessel.  His Captain made the correct choice when he chose him for the task.  It was not an easy choice to make.”

Jaya stared at her, and Apollonia felt small.  She looked down into her glass to avoid the other woman’s eyes.

“Sounds like a real good guy,” she replied weakly.

“If you were under my command, I would order you onto the vessel because we have a situation and you may be the only one who can do something about it.  I do not know that – I only suspect.  Likewise, you do not know if you will be truly harmed by going in.  There are many things we do not know, and right now we need to know.”

“So I should be happy to sacrifice myself for everyone else,” Apollonia replied.  “It sounds nice.  Really poetic – be a hero.  But I don’t know that I am a hero, Jaya.”

“The question is not if you think you are willing to sacrifice, Ms. Nor.  The question is ‘what kind of person do you want to be?’  We all die.  We do not always get to choose how.  When that officer on the ship walked to his death smiling, I believe he was smiling because he knew he had chosen his fate.  He had been given the power of choosing how he faced death, and he chose a way that was meaningful to him.”

Jaya finished speaking and took a deep breath.  Taking her drink, she knocked it back and then put the glass down on the table.

“You have a choice, Ms. Nor.  It is your choice, and it is an important one.  I hope that by tomorrow morning you will inform me that you have made a decision.”

Apollonia watched the other woman as she stood.  As she walked away, Apollonia called out to her.

“Commander Yaepanaya,” she said.  “Who was that officer to you?”

Jaya stopped and looked back at her calmly.

“He was my brother.”

---

< Ep 3 Part 26 | Ep 3 Part 28 >