NationStates Jolt Archive

You’ll never be free of them, you know. They are a part of you, just like your heart. You can banish them to the depths of your soul, but they’re always there. Watching. Waiting for that singular moment of weakness to bring you low.” -S.G. Tanthius

“I still think this is a bad idea.” Alyssa Bevere said as she gazed into the inky, smothering blackness of space through a rather large observation dome. Were the vessel, the PRV Jolly Roger, a military one, such a hole, even one as armored as this, would not be tolerated. Alyssa had served on enough warships to know that for a fact. It was common sense, really. Windows were an unneeded luxury aboard any sort of starship, much less one that was going into combat. But still, even she had to admit that the view was breathtaking. The sheer power, the sheer force of looking into the void seemed to suck Alyssa in. It’s simplistic beauty was so captivating that she almost missed Captain Leyton’s reply.

Captain George Leyton was a decent sort, a serious, no-nonsense man with more gray hair on his chest than his head. -And he had very little hair on his chest indeed. Alyssa had first met him more than three years ago. At the time, he had been looking for a doctor to serve on the Roger. The pay was good enough, and a job healing the sick on a small independent salvager was exactly what Alyssa needed. -To get away from her life. Since then, Leyton and Alyssa had become quite a team, with the younger, sapphire-haired beauty becoming like a daughter to him.

For her part, she always kept him at arms reach. She couldn’t trust anyone so implicitly.

Before replying, Leyton just looked in her eyes solemnly for a moment, probably thinking what to say. Alyssa could be quite willful, when she was in the mood to be. “I know you have… misgivings about working for the Facehuggerians, but this offer was too good to pass up. You know it, and I know it. It’s good money for an easy job. Just get in, drop off the Imperial Colonel, and get paid.”

“George, before I resigned my commission, I served on an Adjudicator, a ship just like the one we’ve been hired to recover. It carries thousands of troops and nearly fifty-kay crewmen. It’s built like a fortress inside and out. Anything that can make a ship like that derelict isn‘t worth our time.” Alyssa said, frowning. She knew what was coming, but that didn’t mean she would have to like it.

“Alyssa, you’ve been our ship’s doctor for three years now, and I trust your judgment implicitly…”

“But…” There was always a but.

“But you and I both know that we need the money. Look at us, Alyssa. Everyone, except for you and Mark, is already gone. The ship is falling apart, and fuel isn’t exactly cheap. You know if there was another offer out there, we’d snag it in a heartbeat. But, salvaging isn’t exactly in demand right now, and we were lucky to get any contract at all, even if we find it distasteful.”

“I’m just saying that the Empire never tells you the whole story. They tell you a slice of the truth, only the barest essentials to-” Alyssa was cut off mid-sentence by a new voice that rose above both her own and Leyton‘s.

“Is there a problem, Captain?” A presence seemed to accompany the interloper’s voice, a miasma that hung over the newcomer like a hazy fog. His name was Colonel Borden, and he was the Imperial attaché for this mission, their ‘cargo.’ Everything about him sent shivers down Alyssa’s spine. His voice was deep and sullen, almost moaning out its words. His face was pale and white, practically albino except for his light, sea-gray eyes, eyes which were set deep within their sockets, giving his pallid face an almost skeletal appearance.

Even his clothes were intimidating. He wore a blackened leather trench coat that fell to his knees, unadorned, lacking even a badge of office. His hands were small, almost feminine in a way, and were covered by thin, delicate gloves, like what you might find on a classical musician. Each glove was as white as snow, which meant that it was whiter than his face, but only just.

In contrast, his pants were as black as his coat, made of some unknown material that seemed to swallow up whatever light hit them. From one glance to the next, they seemed to almost change color, becoming a deeper, darker black, though Alyssa felt sure that was a trick of the lights. On his feet rested a pair of jet-black leather boots that looked far too luxurious and stylish to be military issue. -Indeed, his entire outfit lacked the practiced efficiency of military garb.

Indeed, the only way that one could tell that he was an Imperial Officer was a small, blood-red pendant that hung tightly around his neck. It featured the sword-and-earth of the Imperial flag, along with the uplifting wings of the Emperor’s personal seal. Alyssa shuddered at that particular realization. Colonel Borden was not just some random soldier, he had some connection to Emperor Halsey himself.

Leyton blinked as he regarded the Colonel in much the same way that Alyssa did. His tongue flicked out nervously to wet his lips. “No, Colonel. There is no problem… Mark! What’s our ETA to target?”

“We should be there in twenty. We’ll be able to see it in ten, though.“ Mark Zime was the Roger’s pilot, and a baser form of life never had Alyssa found. He seemed to regard all women as potential conquests, and since his arrival a year ago, he had his sights set on Alyssa.

“Excellent” Borden replied. “You are to dock in the Crucible’s ventral bay as soon as feasible. Then, we shall make our way to the bridge and reactivate the vessel’s systems…”

“What’s this ’we?’ Can’t you do that on your own?” Alyssa asked with narrowed eyes.

“I cannot.” Borden replied, his voice wiped clear of emotion.

A chill ran down Alyssa’s spine as he looked at her. She thought she saw a slight, fleeting grin etched across his face, but when she blinked, it was gone.

“By Bacchus, that thing is huge!” Mark said, his tone one of incredulity. He had obviously never seen something so massive.

Alyssa strained her eyes in vain, trying to catch some glimpse of memory, some whiff of nostalgia. All she could see were tiny pinpricks of color. Stardust, spit forth by dying stars that were light years away, their rays of color taking years to reach her eyes. The stars that birthed those beautiful strands of light were long dead now. But, as the Roger got closer, Alyssa’s eyes caught a hint of what she was seeking. At the very edge of her vision lay a shape, that of the ISV Crucible, the vessel she was hired to retrieve. She expected to see the sleek lines of any Adjudicator destroyer, and she did see their faint outlines, highlighted against the shadowy stars by only the faintest of light and Alyssa’s own imagination. But, as she got closer, she saw something was wrong.

Alyssa noticed differences between the Crucible and any Facehuggerian warship she had ever known. As opposed to the ominous and dark, yet still shimmering blues or greens that normally adorned Imperial warships, the vessel’s hull was a muted, blackened red, looking more like burnt and blistered skin than hull. Of course, intellectually, she knew that the outer, so-called ’liquid’ armor that graced Facehuggerian warships was dynamic, able to take on whatever properties one wanted. But deep inside, the vessel’s visage troubled her. Something just felt wrong about it.

Another break from the norm came in the ship’s very design. Unlike the sleek and uncluttered hull of a normal Adjudicator, the Crucible had several flanges that protruded erotically into space. For the life of her, Alyssa couldn’t identify a single one, but the deformities caused questions to flutter into her mind all the same. Was this some new design? -No, it wasn’t flying the Imperial colors. Had the ship’s mind gone rogue and begun adding to itself? -Possible, but if the AI was truly rampant, it would have already destroyed the Roger with all the practiced ease of slapping a miscreant child. Either way, Alyssa was at a loss for answers, and those paltry few she did have only led her to more questions.

She cleared her throat. “Captain? Something’s not right with that ship. Look, see those… protrusions from the hull? Those shouldn’t be there. Hell, the entire ship is the wrong color. Facehuggerian ships are either blue or green, not that sickly, burnt-pink color that we’re seeing.

“Aww, come on, baby! It’s just ribbed for your pleasure!” Mark said, chuckling to himself as he turned to look at Alyssa. She responded with a glare that could turn a man to stone. He let his gestures, a lustful pelvic thrust in Alyssa’s general direction, reply for him.

“Keep your mind focused on landing, pilot.” Borden said, still facing Alyssa. His eyes never left her.

“Sure… Wait one, the hangar is closed.” Mark replied, finding suddenly finding something on his screens very interesting.

“Transmit the contents of this disk to the Crucible.” Borden replied, handing Mark an almost comically small disk. Even here, the Colonel’s eyes never left Alyssa. She didn’t appreciate the attention.

“Uh, Colonel? How are we going to close the hangar? I don’t fancy a space walk.”

“That disk contains universal docking codes. It will establish a one-way force-field that prevents air from escaping, while still allowing craft to dock. Now, transmit the data.”

Mark did as he was instructed, and was rewarded with the vessel’s hull almost melting away, rushing to other parts of the ship. It was quite a sight, quite different from anything that Alyssa had seen before. Perhaps it was the color, or the viscose white fluid that retreated only slightly more slowly than the pink, flesh-like armor, but Alyssa was distinctly reminded of a putrid and pus-filled abscess forming on a patient’s skin.

“Wow…” Mark said, his mouth gaping like a fish in the desert. He had never seen such a spectacle.

“Do not tarry, Pilot. This mission is of the utmost importance.” Borden said, his eyes still fixed on Alyssa.

“Is there a problem, Colonel?” Alyssa asked, glaring at Borden with that special look that only an enraged woman can pull off.

“Negative.” Borden said, his grey eyes still fixed upon her own azure ones.

“Then why are you still staring at me?”

“Are you Facehuggerian?” He shot back. Alyssa suppressed a shudder. Why was he asking her for personal information?

Alyssa considered lying. This guy was already creepy, and truth be told, she didn’t want to have anything to do with him. But then, she was also an incredibly poor liar. Even the most inobservant person could easily ferret out her lies, much less a trained military officer. No, it would be best to refrain from burning any bridges.

“Yes, I am.” She replied.

“I thought so.” He replied, his face still the deadpan, emotionless visage that he had maintained throughout their little chat.

“Why do you want to know?” Alyssa asked.

“I am merely confirming my files. That is all.” He replied, turning to leave. He was obviously trying to misdirect her. Still, she felt some relief when he half-shuffled, half-floated off the bridge.

“Landing in… three, two, one… Ladies and gentlemen, please put your trays in the upright and locked position, and proceed to the main airlock. Thank you for flying Zime space lines, and have a nice day. Now, get off my ship!” Mark said with a chuckle as Alyssa felt the ship’s magnetic landing claws latch onto the Crucible’s armored flight deck.

The Roger’s remaining crew met with Colonel Borden at the main airlock. He was waiting for them, a fairly large crate lying at his feet. Stamped all over the crate was “Property of the Facehuggerian government! Unauthorized persons will be shot! Survivors will be tortured and then shot!”

Borden cleared his throat. “I do not know what we will find onboard. As such, I have brought weaponry. Two power pistols and two multi-rifles. I trust you have not forgotten your training, Doctor?” Borden asked as he bent down and cleanly unlatched the crate’s straps, opening its contents to the harsh, acrid air.

“No. If I remember right, these rifles pretty much fire themselves. How much ammunition is there?” Alyssa’s voice slipped out of her wary, civilian tone, instead adopting the no-nonsense tone of her long suppressed military persona.

“I have requisitioned enough magazines for each of us. Ten for the pistols, ten for the rifles. If necessary, we can resupply in one of the Crucible onboard armories. Our objectives are as follows: The Captain and I will make our way to the bridge. However, the computer is most likely damaged, as it did not contact me when I provided the docking codes. Therefore, you and the Pilot will need to go down to the Engineering sublevels and activate the AI heuristic repair systems.”

“Uh… what exactly are you expecting that we would need guns?” Mark asked, looking at one of the pistols queasily. “I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

“As I said, I am not expecting anything. However, this ship has been out of contact for some time, and we are unaware of the present situation. It is better to be needlessly armed, than to need, but lack weaponry.”

Alyssa hoisted one of the rifles up to her shoulder. It was slightly different than the ones she had trained on. It was lighter, and came mounted with a few additional attachments. “This is different from the rifles I’m familiar with…” Alyssa said as she eyed her new weapon hungrily, her voice sounding like a little girl who had just been let loose in the chocolate factory.

“It is. In addition to the standard features that you are familiar with, these rifles are equipped with a more intelligent expert system, as well as an under barrel plasma-thrower.”

“Plasma thrower? That’s a lot of firepower for what’s supposed to be a routine mission…” Alyssa said, trailing off. Truth be told, she’d only used a plasma flamethrower once or twice before, but damned if it wasn’t fun.

“I believe in being prepared, Doctor. Now, shall we go?”

“Wait, is there any way for us to communicate?” Alyssa asked, hoping that he would have had the presence of mind to grab commo-beads when he was pillaging a Facehuggerian armory somewhere to equip their little group.

“Not initially. We will have to use the internal communications systems onboard the Crucible. It is likely that the ship‘s onboard ECM is active, as per standard boarding protocols. As such, any portable communications device would not function.” No such luck...


-------

Link to OOC thread. (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=10387123#post10387123)

George F. Nix, Junior, had been an old man – the kind of old man that everybody trusts. A friend of the family – in fact, he was the friend of several families, having tutored children of the Hernandez, Nivensky, and Klotchkovsky homes. And sometimes, between tutoring children, he even did an odd job or two for ACIA.

He had old, graying hair, tied in a ponytail behind his head, wearing a checkered shirt and a pair of old jeans. His legs were clothed in a pair of blue Doctor Martens', and next to his pilot seat lay a darkwood walking cane – nobody had to know he had a plasgun hidden in it, now did they?

His glasses were folded and hanging off his pocket. He did not really need them, but they held a variety of Uploaded Minds nanotech, a hidden computer projecting useful information straight into his eye – and vice versa. Moving his eyeball would control the computer and send out information to the person he was working for this time.

Today, Nix was not working for ACIA.

He was doing something even more distasteful.

He was technically working for Times-Allanea, a lesser newspaper in Allanea. Nix hated working with reporters – or less he would not grow to be as trusted an individual as he was in the ruling elite of Allanea. But this time, he was paid two million Allanean dollars – more then the whole official net worth of Times-Allanea – so Nix realized he wasn't working for the newspaper. He was working for whoever signed that check.

As Allanea is a member of both the Extra Solar Union of Systems and the Greater Prussian Empire, it is comparatively not difficual for an Allanean to get into the Imperium of Facehuggeria – especially as Allaneans are known to rather like the Facehuggerians. (In some states of the Union, Facehuggerian Appreciation Week is an actual event).

As such, a miniature tourist craft – made jointly by Allanean Arms and Cerambus Industries – tearing through Facehuggerian space – would not call much attention by anyone – until someone noticed it departed from the regular courses taken by the Allanean businessmen and other regular visitors to Facehuggeria.

Nix's employer – whoever the hell he happened to be – added a miniature hyperdrive to the tourist vehicle, enabling the old man to simply dodge out of the regular routes normally taken by the Allanean – and straight to the projected location of the Crucible.

And so it happened that at the same time Alyssa and her 'friends' were docking to the Crucible, the old Allanean was also approaching it, albeit from a different angle.

Clancy was forced to dive for cover as another Imperial came at him, though he had been lucky enough to escape, there were those among his squad that were not. He could watch helplessly as those that he once called friend mate their fate.

However, was not about to let their death go by without any retribution, with calculated precision he brought his rifle over the top of his cover and fixed its sight on the closest target, it was now his turn to deal death. Though Imperial armor was formidable to say the least, it could only take so much damage before it finally buckled under the pressure. It was with some sense of satisfaction that Clancy watched the doomed soldier fall to the ground, twitch for a moment, then become still. With his duty done he done, he crouched back under cover.

There was a violent explosion some near his distance, and for the first time in the entire battle it drew Clancy’s attention to his surrounding. The capital city of Steel Butterfly was nothing planet sized city, which made their task of taking the planet much more difficult, fight in urban environments as always ugly. Of course Clancy and his men had been the first in and now found they themselves making the final push to close in on the Emperor. From the resistance that they were now facing they were going to fight for every inch.

There was another explosion, this time it was much closer, the resulting concussion threw both debris and Clancy out into the street. For a moment he laid there out in the open, dazed and confused. Imperial soldier sensing an easy kill gave him no forgiveness. Quickly gathering his senses Clancy made a desperate race to find safety.

Just when he felt he was about to make it he felt something slam against his helmet. The strength of the impact caused his head to snapped to the side awkwardly, faltering he fell, but his momentum carried him to safety.

Clancy head felt as is had been ripped open, in panic he threw his helmet to the ground; it made a loud thump as it the ground. He rubbed the side of his head were most of the pain had been coming from, he could a gash, and the blood that he could see was a tell sign of head trauma. However, a quick look at his helmet told him that the helmet had taken the brunt of the damage; he would never curse the guy at R&D again.

Now that he his helmet was off he had no longer had the benefit of his audio dampers, and he could hear the horrors of the battle around him.

“Sir, they’ve got us pinned down” proclaimed on of his men.

It took him a moment to consider his options, he quickly opened up his comm. System “This is Clancy six two six, requesting air support at our location.”

“Copy that,” said a cold voice on the other end “We’ve got a unit in the area and will be inbound soon.”

It didn’t take long for his plea to be answered, Clancy looked up just in time to see a Viper Gunship come over the top of near by building, that when he saw it. He watched at the ordinance that pilot slide into place, poised to strike. But Clancy knew that the weapon of choice had been wrong, given the close quarters both the enemy and his men would be caught in the resulting explosion.

“Everyone down” he cried out, suddenly everything went black.

Fighting for breath Clancy shot out of bed, somewhere off in the distance he could hear his alarm going off, and glance over at the clock told him that he was almost at the rendezvous point. It took him a moment to collect his thoughts before he made to the shower.

As he went about his daily routine it was clear that he was a military man, every action was clear and precise, and timed to the second. As He finished shaving Clancy paused for a moment, parting his hair to the side reveling a scare hidden beneath, he just stared at the mirror as if trying to come to some understanding with the man on the other side. A beep from his watch interrupted his thoughts. Gathering the rest of gear he made his way to the ship cockpit.

“Good morning, lieutenant commander” said an automated voice as he took a the pilots seat.

Never being one much for idle conversation, Clancy simply ignored the ships AI system and tried to focus on the task at hand. “How long until we reach the target” his voice seemed even more cold then that of the AI system.

“Five minutes” answered the computer “You should be able to pick it up visually sir”

Looking through the glass he could see a small speck off in the distance, but he could that it was the ship that was after.

“Transmit the access code.” He took a moment to go over the mission in his head, it all seem simply enough in theory. He was to meet up with a one Colonel Broden, and give him whatever assistance the man required. It seemed a little strange to him, it was not often that one such as himself was sent out on something like this.

With grace his slide into the assigned docking bay, from what he could see the other party had arrived. Quickly he made his way out the ship and into the docking, he could see a man that he recognized as Colonel Broden. Quickly giving Broden the appropriate military greeting he introduced himself “Lieutenant Commander Clancy, of the Second X reporting in sir.”

Nyo'ei was finally closing on his target. Her skeletal, metal fingers danced over the keyboard, taking notes, keeping the ship on course, and performing numerous other tasks. There was no windows on her tiny bridge, just a large monitor which filled the role adequately. Currently it was displaying several screens in a cluttered fashion. On one, was the pristeen white page of the Jordaxian national bank... on the other, the sensor readings of her vessel, the "Mocking Reaper", whilst somewhat overlapping it was simply some intergalactic newscast. Nyo'ei liked, after all, to be able to spot employment opportunities early. Behind her in the cramped compartment, was her weapons locker, crammed to the brim with various tools of her trade - both the subtle, and terrifying, and a few select pieces that had aspects of both. She was an assassin, and one that commanded a high price. This target in particular, one Marvin Hartsock was wanted rid of by a few shady people - questions immediately arose in her mind, but the fee promised, and the apparent ease of her assignment kept them quiet.

What seperated Nyo'tei from most Jordaxian assassins, however, were two distinctive features. Firstly, she operated around the galaxy, not just in and around the Sol system. Secondly, she was not human, but Talosian, what people called a droid in other cultures. She had dull, rusty armoured plating, but it didn't impede her movement. It was lightly scarred, as she believed the un-maintained look made her seem more intimidating to her targets. Her eyes had a dull orange glow to them, but could see in far more ways than a humans. Height wise, she was taller than a human, but still not quite to the same scale as the Jordaxian, and of course physically, she would outperform all organics, barring those with serious modification. Her physical build was slightly less than an average humans, but not thin by any means. As for means to easily identify her chosen gender physically, there was nothing physical excepting her voice, which while not lyrical, was easily female.

The sensors picked up something, white brackets closing on the screen, locking on to their quarry. Small, and undoubtedly her target. Heading towards Facehuggerian territory, no less, which was curious. Disregarding that, she simply ordered the ship to trail him, whilst she went to assemble her kit. The information she received indicted this would be a highly simple mission. Middle aged humanoid, the picture received indicated he was simply that. Not overly muscular, wearing slacks. The green hair would have opposed the impression she got, that he was a low-level exec of some corporation, if she hadn't been also informed that he wasn't precisely human - so it was to be expected. Nevertheless, since this mission didn't promise to be interesting, the first thing she broke out was her RUCUS rifle, looted from a Jordaxian supply depot in the initial confusion of the nations fracture. When she was finished with him, she'd have to get the proof of his death with a spatula. Perhaps a picture of his intestines dripping from a wall would also suffice.

She was reminded of a target she killed nearly a century ago, when she was just beginning to gain a reputation for herself. Most people in her line of work didn't last nearly so long, an accomplishment she was very proud of. But then, her bloodthirstiness, her love for the hunt was unmatched amongst her people. As was her desire for the finer things. She considered herself to be the pinnacle of killers, and she wanted everyone to know.

The airlock slid open , but only under duress. It protested with something that sounded part groan, part creak, and part scream. The air on the other side was thin and dusty, like it hadn’t been recirculated for years. But there was something else about it. It had the faint scent of curdled blood, the sent of human organs rotting in the open air. It made Alyssa sick. But, while the Crucible’s air smelled of rotting flesh, there was no obvious origin to the stench. It seemed to come from everywhere, not one localized corpse or pile of entrails. In fact, the strange thing, Alyssa thought, was the lack of signs of life. There were no bodies, no scorch marks or craters to indicate there had been a battle. But, were that the case, where was the smell coming from?

But then, Alyssa didn’t really expect to find many bodies in the ship’s hangar. Facehuggerians don’t run from invaders, they meet them head on, again and again, until one side or the other is dead. This notion was borne out by the fact that all the strike craft, like fighters and gunships, were still here. Though, they did seem to be prepped for launch, arrayed in row upon row of jet-black hull, ready to be loaded onto launch-rails like bullets into a gun’s chamber. Awaiting an order that never came.

The corridors were in a similar condition. Utterly pristine, lacking any sort of battle damage, indeed, any indications of life. They were darkened and lit only by the dull-red hue of emergency lights, giving everything a hellish, otherworldly appearance. Fortunately, Alyssa’s gun had a mounted torchlight, so she wasn’t stumbling totally blind, led on by shadows cast from the darkness. Mark was not so lucky, he had to carry a light, for his gun did not possess one.

Even here, the smell was overpowering. Especially here, Alyssa thought. It was actually getting more pungent the further in she went, the further into this vessel’s dark heart. The primary reactor was evidently inactive, given the lack of adequate lights and proper air circulation. However, since it wasn’t frigid inside, the secondary reactors, the singularities, were obviously online. It would be her job, once she started the AI’s repair cycle, to spool up the Annihilator and get some real power flowing to the ship again. Displacements were notoriously power-hungry, and she certainly didn’t feel up to tackling quasi-space in a damaged ship, much less a ghost ship like this…

***

“Curious” Borden said, regarding the newcomer coldly. “I was not informed of additional operatives being present in the mission area, much less foreign auxiliaries. However, you did provide the proper cipher, so your mission must be legitimate… You may come with Captain Leyton and I. We are en route to the bridge in order to reactivate the systems of this vessel. I hope you are armed, for this vessel has been out of contact with Facehuggerian Command for quite some time, and I am… unsure of what we may find onboard."

Borden paused for a moment before adding "If you are unfamiliar with the design of an Adjudicator destroyer such as this one, I suggest you follow closely. It is large and filled with many winding corridors. Becoming misplaced is a simple matter on a vessel such as this.”

***

“Hey, Alyssa? You know what that smell is?” Mark asked, waving his light in her general direction. There was a wide grin on his face, like a shark descending upon its prey.

“In my medical opinion, it smells like rotting human flesh.” She shrugged, memories of the scent flooding back into her mind. She thought she’d left it behind. She really hoped she had.

Mark went several shades paler, the color draining out of his face faster than milk from a teat. His smile vanished . “Rotting human flesh!?”

“What did you think it was?” Alyssa said, not even turning to face him. Something up ahead had caught her interest.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were horny and looking for some help.“

“Shut up.” Alyssa replied, her disgust clearly plastered across her face, as she stuck up a closed fist. If Mark had been in the military, he would have known what it meant instantly. Instead, he just continued blabbering on, almost as though he didn’t care about the fact that they were on a veritable ghost ship.

“I’m serious! All I smell is the sweet, sweet brew of femininity.” He replied with a slight grin.

“I heard something, idiot.” Alyssa replied, barely giving Mark an iota of her attention. Instead, the brunt of her concentration was focused on the path ahead as she swept her rifle around, allowing its mounted light to sweep to and fro, her weapon eagerly searching for targets almost of its own accord. What she saw reflected in the gun’s harsh white light made her blood run cold.

It was a corpse. Or, at least she looked emaciated enough to be one, with thin, skeletal features and a nearly exposed ribcage, covered only by a thin membrane of flesh. Alyssa’s mind instantly began evaluating it. There was a small pair of skin-flaps that had likely been breasts at one point. The rest of her skin was an unhealthy shade of white, so thin in some places that one could see right through it, seeing her dull red blood course sluggishly through her veins. Her belly was distended, most likely filled with bodily waste and putrid gasses, giving it an almost half-starved look. Alyssa knew that was the final, incurable stage of the disease, the so-called ’Alabaster,’ that was ravaging the poor woman’s body. Her eyes were milky-white, covered with cataracts so thick that they looked like marbles. Her hair, or rather, the pathetic remnants that still poked out of her head were a mixture of silvery-gray hairs, the kind that only comes with stress, with only one or two of her original color, a sort of mysterious midnight blue, still visible.

“Oh god…” Alyssa said, lowering her rifle slightly as she got closer. “No. It can’t be. You‘re dead!”

“A… Alyssa?”

“It‘s…“ Alyssa started to say before she felt a bony hand wrap itself around her neck in a deathgrip, the rancid scent of decaying flesh flooding her nose anew. She felt razor-sharp fingernails digging deeply into her neck, deep enough to draw blood. -She could feel it’s thick, viscose warmth slowly running down her neck.

Her head swung around so fast that it almost looked like a blur. The visage that assaulted her senses looked was like a demon from her past, come to torment her. Her mind tried to reconcile the fact that what should have been an immobile victim showing late-stage symptoms of Alabaster infection had apparently leapt up and somehow crossed the six feet between them without her even realizing it.

She didn’t even try to reconcile the fact that she recognized the poor creature.

Mark screamed for a moment before he started punching the almost corpselike woman in the head, trying to make her let go of Alyssa, but, it wasn’t working. Dots swam before Alyssa’s eyes, and her years of medical training told her that within moments, she would soon lose consciousness. Death would follow soon after that. So, out of desperation, she used the last of her strength to squeeze the trigger of her rifle, hoping to at least graze her assailant. Instead, the gun’s barrel adjusted itself and fired with the force of an impact hammer. However, there was no bullet or self-guided missile launched from that barrel, as Alyssa expected. In fact, there was nothing physical at all, just a blast of highly pressurized air. In her panic, she hadn’t realized that a mini-missile (the preferred ammunition of her rifle) would kill her just as dead as her mysterious foe. Fortunately, the rifle did.

The plague-victim flew backwards, as the laws of physics required, but there was no dull thump from its corpse hitting the ground. When Alyssa glanced towards its destination, she saw nothing. Nothing but a tiny pile of ashes that were already being sucked into the ship’s air scrubbers.

“Oh god… Oh my god. I…” Alyssa felt around her neck, probing the puncture marks.

“You don’t look so good, let me take a look at that, Aly…” Mark said with uncharacteristic concern. Was that actual affection in his eyes? No, Alyssa thought, she obviously wasn’t thinking straight.

“NO! It spreads through contact with the blood.” Alyssa replied, swatting his hand away with a slap from her gun.

“What’s spread? Was that zombie some sort of diseased person?”

“Y-yes. She was a victim of a rare disease called ‘Alabaster.’ But I thought it was eradicated years ago… ”

“That‘s weird, isn‘t it? Where would somebody catch such a disease? But that can wait. From the sound of it, we don‘t have much time. You’re the doc, so, what can we do?”

“It can be cured, but only if you have a state of the art medical facility…” She replied, shuddering for a moment.

“An advanced medical facility, eh? Well, this ship would have one of those right? I mean, it‘s a pretty huge ship, and like you said, it had almost fifty thousand crew, it‘d have to have a decent hospital somewhere…” He said, tapping his brow in thought.

Alyssa thought for a moment, the disease already starting to cloud her mind. That‘s how it worked, first it clouds the mind before it starts on the body. But, victims never became violent, like that one. And by the time the disease progressed to the later stages, the victim became bedridden, unable to take care of themselves, much less attack others. They were too busy watching helplessly as their own body literally consumed itself. “…Yes. The MedSci sector will have one. It’s *urngh* on the way to Engineering. Come on, I‘ll need your help to get there.”

“The Flower of Life, indeed it is quite so. From its seed has birthed a vast civilization, from its flowers as great army, and from its roots…the power to control it all. That is, until now.”

Areli Tyner faced his gathered constituents. An autumnal man with graying features and even grayer hair, his physical stature and commanding voice both were, nevertheless, intimidating. He wore the grin of a school boy who had just received his first kiss, yet his face was still as stern as a disciplined government politician. He seated himself in a high-backed chair at the end of the small conference table and resumed speaking.

“What we have accomplished, gentlemen, is no mere act of selfish desire. No, my friends, I like to think of it as a…liberation of sorts, for the citizens of Megas. For now they shall have the unlimited access they so covet to Megas’ most abundant, yet most scarce resource; the Flower itself.”

“By that…er…speech you just gave, I hope you mean to tell us that the operation was a success?”

The interruption came from Dolphus Weber, a small, old man who had only recently joined the ranks of the Megan elite, and served to wipe the curious grin from Tyner’s face. Left in its place was the hard frown of a politician wisened by conquering the wills of his peers. It was the kind of look that turned one’s stomach inside out and ran chills down one’s spine.

“My dear Mr. Weber, how long have you secretly harbored this doubt? I gave you my word that we would be successful and so we were. What else could you have expected?”

Tyner began to lean forward over the table, a posture that provided two important psychological effects. Firstly, it reinforced Tyner’s intimidation factor by bringing him closer to his “victim” and making his seem to be poised for an attack. Secondly, it created the image of control for Tyner in the others’ minds. Weber stared helplessly at Tyner, a blank look in his eyes, unsure of his next move. Tyner moved in for the kill.

“I can assure you, Mr. Weber, that any dissention within this collective will not be tolerated. If you’re having any thoughts of backing out now, it would be in your best interest to pretend they are not there. We are all in this together; it is too late to change your mind.”

Tyner paused to allow his words to sink in.

“Tread lightly Mr. Weber.” He added. “You all may leave now. Except Mr. Hartsock, I’d like you to stay; I must speak with you, privately.”

Marvin Hartsock remained in his seat as the others filed out of the room, drudgingly returning to their busily-scheduled lives. Hartsock himself was one of their best, an intelligent politician with his fair share of experience. Though generally a quiet and timid man, Hartsock had built a reputation on his ability to draw widespread political support for even the most mundane initiatives when needed. He had once helped push a bill through that had started with the backing of only three percent of the seats in Parliament; by the date it was signed into law, Hartsock had rallied a ninety-eight percent majority, a record for Parliament. That was his greatest asset, and also what attracted Tyner to him most. Tyner felt it essential to their cause to have Hartsock’s support. Now, with the others gone, Tyner began again.

“None of them could ever truly grasp the magnitude, the enormity, the severity of what we have done. Not like you and I can, Marvin.”

“What do you mean?”

Tyner slid open a drawer in a nearby cabinet and retrieved a small potted plant, which he set in front of Hartsock.

“By the Finders, that’s a real Flower…”

“Entrancing, isn’t it?”

They both paused a moment to take in the sight before them. The plant was small, about a foot or so tall, upon its stem rested three flowers; a blue, a yellow, and a purple; each with three delicate petals. Then Tyner continued.

“For it to be so aptly named, I have often wondered if the Finders possessed even an inkling of foresight into what great and terrible events have come about as a direct result of this tiny plant. They say that ingesting the dried petals changes one. Some say it even gives you mysterious powers-“

“Not that nonsense again. Do you really believe all that rubbish?”

“Nonsense, rubbish. Such are the words used by those who wish to suppress the pursuit of answers to their questions simply because they fear that the truth may not be what they want it to.”

“There were clinical trials! They didn’t find any evidence that-“

“So the military claims! So the Supreme Chancellor claims! But has any of us actually seen the reports they would have us believe to exist? No…the true test will begin shortly, when the rank-and-file discover that they can easily obtain that which is rightfully theirs. Then we shall all see what happens.”
“Bah! You can have your experiment, Areli, so long as I get my money. That’s why we’re really here after all, to quickly fill out pockets with as many rupies as possible, then leave.”

“If you say so, my old friend”

Tyner sighed. Perhaps Hartsock had really become like the rest of the old howlers that filled the seats of the Parliament, just another greedy bastard out to take advantage of the system. He hoped it hadn’t come to that.

---------------------------------

The small, sleek craft glided swiftly through the black void of space, her white hull a direct contrast to the blackness that seemed to swallow her up. Inside the singular pilot, crewman, and passenger, Marvin Hartsock, closely examined his instruments and readouts. The proximity alarm had just recently sounded and woke him from a light nap. Scans indicated a large object, a derelict space station perhaps, was in his middle of his current trajectory. It was a few minutes away. Hartsock couldn't understand why the computer didn't automatically correct the course to adjust for the object, but didn't pay it much heed. With the pressing of a few buttons he reset the course.

He settled in his seat in an attempt to drift back to sleep, but was soon reawakened. This time, however, it was the proximity alarm, but a violent shudder and a rapid deceleration. This served to puzzle Hartsock even more, as he hadn't told the computer to drop out of warp any time soon. Even further still, it felt like the ship was jerked out of warp, which was never a good sign. Another alarm sounded, systems began to malfunction. What the- The inertial dampener had already failed, the sensors were fading on and off, and the warp drive wasn't responding. By the Finders!Hartsock desperately tried to restart the warp, his fingers played across the keys and buttons on his console. Despite his best efforts, more and more systems were failing, one by one. A timer appeared on the screen in front of him; life support had failed and he had only three minutes of breathable air.

Then he saw it.

It was grand, in its own way. Some might call it disgusting. To Hartsock, it was his savior. The pinkish, red mass, Hartsock had now finally identified as a ship, seemed to be derelict. It was huge, not a space station, but still huge. He couldn't understand why such a huge ship would be derelict. At the moment, however, it was beside the point.

The manual controls were still functioning, and Hartsock searched desperately for a hangar or dock of some sort. Finally, he located one on what seemed to be the ventral side of the ship. Fighting with the controls, he somehow managed to turn the ship in the general direction of the hangar, but that was all. The manual controls were now failing. Lousy! I'm going to miss by a few meters! Why in the Finders' names is this happening?! He thought.

However, seconds before impacting the strange-toned hull of the ship, the docking tractor beams seized Hartsock's small vessel, and slowly drew her into the bay. The shudder had thrown Hartsock to the floor, but he breathed a sigh of relief anyway. Collecting himself, he staggered to the hatch as his ship landed on the smooth floor of the Facehuggerian hangar bay. Seconds later, he stepped outside.

There were already two vessels setting nearby his inside the bay. Why? What were they doing here? Hartsock collected his nerves once again and set off to find some answers for himself.

Nyo'tei watched impassively as the small craft slid into the docking bay, seeing it move to strike the walls of the gargantuan vessel, only to correct its course at the last second. Curious. It changed nothing but the venue, however. If Nyo'tei could smile, she would be demonstrating a suitably sinister grin. Tapping in the co-ordinates for the hanger, she let her ship cruise onwards, as the ship grew larger on her viewscreen, dominating the surroundings with ease.

Landing in the flight deck alongside the three other vessels, the three legs clicked firmly onto the ground. At the back of her roughly triangular vessel, with only a few modules jutting out at random, a ramp slid down and connected to the floor. Nyo'teis legs clicked against the metal surface. On her back was a rectangular backback containing various useful supplies, whilst in her right hand was the compressed RUCUS rifle. A small Spork pistol was in a holster on her left hip. She had a confident, easy gait as she stepped onto the flat surface. She left the flight deck, and entered the corridors. Her first priority was to locate Hartsock, which shouldn't be difficult. After all, she was only about ten minutes behind. It was odd - even though her vision was utterly perfect, the shadows seemed to dance at the edge of her vision. With a thought, her eyes changed modes. One flipped over to night vision, whilst the other turned to thermal. With the shadows banished, they shouldn't be able to dance. Yet it continued. Flashes of heat against the blue, shifting into sillhoettes of light in the dim green of night vision. The barrel of her rifle extended, and a round slid into place. Something was definitely wrong. Finally, it evidenced itself. At the far end of the corridor, a figure stood, holding an underslung rifle in one hand, totally motionless. Nyo'tei cycled through every mode, and in every single one,it was there. This was no simple illusion. It was a duplicate. And in that moment of realisation, it snapped the air with a round from her rifle. a thousandth of a second before it struck her face, it detonated, hurling Nyo'tei through the air. Mechanical impulses firing, she landed on her feet, clamping into the ground. Her duplicate walked casually forward as the next round entered the battle. There was no time to think. Firing the round already in her barrel, she turned and ran down an auxilliary corridor branching from the main. She didn't see her duplicate casually move out of the way of the supersonic round.

As Nyo'tei bolted down the corridor, feet clashing against the floor, thoughts clamoured through her mind. What the hell was that thing? Why on earth did it try to kill her, and why did it look like her? Questions that came without answer, or too many of them. Could it be the onboard security systems of the derelict? Highly unlikely. It was certainly real. The explosion knocked out one of her eyes. In the lack of any productive answers, her rational mind kicked back in. She'd have to find some sort of maintanance station. Then she could go and look for answers, or at least her quarry. That way she could get off of this ship, and that couldn't happen too soon. With the way behind effectively closed, she advanced further. At random, another thought came into her head. She knew the origins of two ships on the flight deck, one of them was hers, after all. The other two, however, were not conveniently identifiable. It could certainly be to her advantage to locate them, perhaps find out answers. And if they had any connection to the ship, they could point her in the direction of a rapair area. Still running, she took the backpack down, and removed four small orbs, each about the size of a human thumbnail. The tiny camera in each would allow her to scout this section of the ship in detail. When they found something, or someone important, she could also use the remote to relay a message to them.A far cry from the threats she usually used them to deliver, but she was certainly glad to bring them. They floated off under their own power, disappearing into the shadows down the corridor. Slowing to a walk, she made a right and carried on, cautiously now in case of another ambush.

The shuttle door slid open with a powerful clang and George Frederick Nix, Junior slide out into the monstrous Facehuggerian vessel. It was... huge. It was at least a few hundred times bigger then the average Allanean battleship – most of those, of course, were 30 meters long- and out of any comparison with those vessels used by Allanea's ally on Mars, the community of the Uploaded Minds. This was exactly why Nix's employer was interested in the Facehuggerian ship and its content. That is, his real employer. Not Times-Allanea – but the one who gave the journalists enough money to hire Nix for the job. The one to whose computer George's glasses were even now routing everything interesting he saw – via subspace communication to the onboard computer of his shuttle and then via the shuttle's retransmission device back to Port-Liberty.

He walked into the body of the immense vessel, his cane clanging loudly against the floor, the two plasma handguns concealed on his clothing pushing slightly against his back and thigh, and the dozens of sensors implanted in his body, shoes, and clothing fixing and recoridng all they saw, smelled, or heard.

Nix blinked hard, and on the inner surface of his glasses appeared a rough glowing map of the internals of a Facehuggerian battleship, as estimated by some private research institute on Earth. It would be, of course, terribly inaccurate, but at least it would give him some rough orientation... he shut it down. It was useless. Even if the map was accurate – which it probably wasn't, how in the seven hells would a small think tank in Allanean Alabama harvest info about the internal structure of a Central Facehuggerian vessel of war? - he still had no f*cking clue where he should go next – so he just walked along, looking about and looking for some place that looked conveniently important.

“Is the bridge much further, Colonel?” Leyton asked. Truth be told, the long and winding corridors were starting to get to him. There could be anything waiting around the next dimly-lit corner. The fact that he hadn’t seen any signs of life only made him even more queasy.

“Yes. The displacer-gates are inoperable, so we are required to make our way there on foot. “ Borden replied, sweeping his rifle/light around with practices ease, checking the most likely avenues of attack.

“But I saw one of these portals! It looked fine! It even said ‘online’ and everything!” Leyton replied. If this was the Colonel’s excuse, it was a particularly flimsy one.

“Allow me to rephrase. I can use it because I am an officer of the Imperial government, it will recognize my genetic code. It will not recognize you, and as such, you will be displaced into one of the singularities that processes fuel for this vessel. Understood?” Borden replied, emotionlessly as ever.

“Uh… Yes.” Leyton replied.

“Halt.” Borden said. A normal person would have said it with a bit more force, but not Colonel Borden. He said it in that same dull, almost robotic monotone that he always spoke in.

Leyton’s gun practically leapt out of his hands. “What!?”

“I must use the sanitary facilities. Wait here.”

“Sanitary facilities?” Leyton thought, “Who the hell talked like that? It was a head, a bathroom, a water closet, or a pissery, but only snobbish intellectuals called it a ’sanitary facility.’” And for all his ill and unpracticed manners, Borden was no snob.

But of course, Leyton couldn’t speak what was on his mind. The contract was too valuable. And by the time he opened his mouth, the Colonel was gone anyway. And that’s when it hit him. -A sort of velvety, lotus-flower scent that Leyton had once woken up to during the happiest phase of his life. It was his wife’s perfume. He knew it must have been just his mind playing tricks on him, but a part of him was so wrapped up in nostalgia that he didn’t care. It was so nice to let the dark and claustrophobic confines of the Crucible fade away like a hazy and barely-remembered nightmare, to be replaced with the greener pastures of remembrance.

In his mind, he was lying in a field of thick evergreen grass interspersed with hues of every imaginable color. Dozens of separate species of flower almost oozed with the beauty and color that had once been. The entire scene still dripped with water, the spendings of a small rain cloud that had long since departed in the night. It was as perfect in his mind’s eye as it had been thirty years earlier. It was here, in this place, that he first kissed his wife. It was to this moment in time that he retreated when he was stressed, depressed, or simply bored out of his mind.

As always, his wife was here, looking at him with beautiful, wide eyes, filled to the brim with nothing but genuine love. God how he missed her. But this time, there were tears of crystal blurring those beautiful azure eyes. This time, there was a silent pout etched across her luscious red lips rather than the sunny, enigmatic smile that usually graced her perfect face.

“Why are you crying?” Leyton asked.

She sniffled and opened her mouth to speak. “I’m sorry, George.”

“Don’t cry. You have nothing to be sorry for.” Leyton said, wiping away one of her tears with the tip of his thumb.

“It was all my fault. All of it. I was the one who left. You wanted to share a child, to share a life with me, and I threw it all away. I… I was afraid, George. Afraid of who I was, of what I was… So I ran, and I didn’t stop running until it was too late. When I went back, you were gone…” She replied.

“Tara, I don’t understand.”

“I never told you why I was always so timid, did I?” She replied.

“What? No, Tara, you didn’t. I’d just assumed it was part of your past. I didn’t want to hurt you with my petty curiosity. What lay in the past was best left there…”

“I was always running. All my life. From my family, from commitment, from myself. I tried to give it up. You were so good to me, so kind and tender. You genuinely cared about me. I tried to settle down with you… I really did. But people never really change, George. The old you never goes away. You can never put your monsters to rest, no matter how hard you try…”

“The nightmares? I always tried to comfort you. It killed me to see you cry yourself to sleep when you thought I wasn’t looking. Just like it killed me to watch you wake up shivering in our bed, covered in sweat even while your skin was cold and clammy. I did everything I could for you. I consoled you, I paid for your therapy… I loved you, Tara. And then, one day, you were gone, and you never came back. I… I leapt into the bottle. But deep down, I think I understood your decision. I loved you unconditionally, Tara, and I still do. Be at peace. I forgave you a long time ago… ” Leyton replied.

“George, I know you can’t hear me, but I want to say it anyway. I’m sorry. If I’d come back sooner, you would still be alive today.”

“…WHAT!?!?”

Leyton‘s eyes shot open at once. But instead of Tara‘s beautiful face hovering over him, he was assaulted by Borden‘s grim visage. “This is no time for daydreaming, Captain.”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Leyton stammered out in his surprise.

“Follow closely then. We have a job to do.” Borden sniffed derisively as he pulled out a small, thin device no larger than an ancient cellular phone.

“What’s that?” Leyton asked.

“Epimetheus, perform a biological trace scan. Radius, fifty meters… As I suspected.” Borden said, obviously ignoring him.

“What?” Leyton asked.

“Earlier, I heard something that sounded like a human lung in use. Now, I have confirmed it. There is someone twenty meters ahead of us. We will increase our pace to overtake them.” Borden replied, breaking into a brisk walk, something that could have been a run were it not for the awkward movement of his legs.

“All I heard was the dull hum of power running through this ship’s guts. You sure you about this?” Leyton asked.

“Yes.”

After a few minutes of running, they did indeed overtake their quarry. He was a short, powerfully built man, clad in the black and silver-trimmed uniform of the Imperial Navy. However, looking more closely, the uniform was soaked with fluid, probably either sweat or blood (or a mixture of the two,) and it was torn in several places, with a particularly nasty gash running diagonally down the man’s chest. So, Leyton thought, a member of the crew did survive! We’ll finally get some answers around here!

“Crewman, In the name of the Immortal Emperor, halt and identify yourself.” Borden said, his voice again lacking any trace of forcefulness, authority, or indeed, even emotion.

“Free!” The crewman replied loudly, obviously insane.

Borden wordlessly aimed his rifle at the fleeing man and flicked a switch, soliciting a slight mechanical whirring from the gun.

“What are you doing!?”

“He is resisting an Imperial Officer. The penalty is death. I am authorized in times of crisis to perform this task in the field.” Borden replied, his voice as calm and practiced, as though he had done this before.

“You can’t be serious…” Leyton replied, trailing off.

The sharp thunderclap of his rifle proved otherwise. Downrange, perhaps fifty meters away, the man stopped in mid-stride and fell as a pizza-sized hole was blown clear through his body. “The Emperor bestows his forgiveness.” Borden muttered under his breath, the first real show of emotion Leyton had seen the Colonel indulge in since they met.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?!?” Leyton said, but Borden ignored him, jogging up to check the status of his kill. Leyton had no real alternative but to follow. Without Borden, he’d get lost within the labyrinth of the ship’s hallways.

The poor man’s body was still twitching… his mouth was still gaping wordlessly for air. Or… not so wordlessly. Leyton leaned in, the man was still trying to say something. His voice was almost unworldly, far too deep sounding for any voice, much less one that of a dying man. His eyes were jet-black, two small pools of inky black flesh that certainly didn’t look human. “They’re you and you’re them. Deny them, and deny yourself. But never embrace them. Never...”

“What?” But Leyton never got a reply; The man was already dead.

“You know what this could mean.” Dolphus Weber addressed the man sitting across the desk from him. Weber was reading a small datapad, a look of curious wonder spread across his face.

“Indeed. With this we will both become very rich men, and poor, Mr. Tyner will take the fall. It’s perfect.” Marvin Hartsock replied.

“Tyner doesn’t know? I thought you and he were in very good cohorts.”

“You, him and the rest of the Parliament. To tell you the truth, I’m getting particularly tired of his endless rants about the powers of the Flower. The only power that the Flower brings to a man is wealth! The old fool, fanaticizing in his sick delusions.”

“Why did you bring this to me?” Weber asked.

“Because you, like me, hold at least a modest disliking for Tyner, a commodity which not many possess. You will have no problem carrying out this plan.”

“You’re a very shrewd man, Hartsock. Count me in.”

“Good. We began two hours after the final operation is complete. The leak should arrive at JusCom’s office about the same time. They’ll go straight for Tyner, and by the time anyone figures out that he doesn’t have the money, we’ll be safely out of Megan territory.”

------------------------------------------

Wandering around through endless, dark hallways was not Hartsock’s idea of an enjoyable day. Of course, neither was nearly dying because his ship suddenly decided to have a heart attack. Exhausted, Hartsock sat on the floor, leaning against the bulkhead. For the first time since he was on his little skiff, Hartsock was thinking clearly, rationally. He needed to find something, anything that could lead him…somewhere. Maybe he could find a bridge or something to send a distress signal. Yes, that was it, he’d find a bridge to send a distress signal, and then someone would come and rescue him. But, what about the two vessels that were already docked in the hangar? Surely someone belonged to them, and those someone’s were on board the ship as well. Maybe they were in the same predicament as him. In that case, they would also be heading for the bridge of the ship, just as he was. That thought comforted him – just a little.

He rose and continued walking, and was then confronted by a small floating object, about the size of a marble.

"Greetings. I am Nyo--ei, communicating to you elsewhere aboard this vessel through this device, though I have no landmarks to give you."

The signal disappeared for a moment in a crackle of static. The image of Nyo'tei gradually refocused, showing her head bobbing as if running at some pace.

"This remote is relaying your location, however, and I am on my way. Be warned, I have already been attacked by.... something which appeared to look identically to myself. "

The picture and sound corrupted once more.

"--- extremely dangerous and has cut off the path to the Flight Deck." Nyo'tei sighs audibly. "This signal is extremely poor at my end. Please respond.”

Hartsock was surprised and completely taken aback at this device, and even more so by this being that was speaking with him. Surely it was a droid of some sort, but it moved and spoke like a sentient humanoid. He had never seen such a thing, but nevertheless, he dared a response.

“I’m, uh, Hartsock. Marvin Hartsock. How did you get here? What are you doing here?”

The signal weakened and after a few seconds all that Hartsock could see of Nyo’tei was a vague, blurry sillouette. He decided to save his questions until after Nyo’tei caught up to him. Relaxing a bit, he resumed his seat against the bulkhead. Footsteps clanked on the deck near him, Nyo’tei must have been closer than he thought.

“Hello, Marvin.”

The voice shocked Hartsock. It wasn’t Nyo’tei’s cool, female tone, but a harsher, more human, male voice. Hartsock looked up to see an average sized man with heavyset features, whose face was obscured by shadow. In his outstretched arm the man brandished a pistol pointed straight at Hartsock’s forehead.

“What…who?”

“Don’t look so surprised, Marvin.”

He finally recognized the voice.

“Why, how did you get here? You’re dead!”

“Am I not standing here before you?”

“You can’t be, it’s just my mind playing tricks on me. By the Finder’s I wish it would stop. I need some sleep. Yes, that’s it, I just need to sleep.”

“Sleep won’t save you from this fate, Marvin. You’re going to get exactly what you deserve. What was it you told me, Marvin? Ah, yes…don’t take it personally, I really did like you.”

The man lowered the pistol at Hartsock’s head, and laughed sadistically. It was a deep, throaty laugh that sent chills down Hartsock’s spine. In his mind, Hartsock knew this happen, he had already resigned himself to this fate. He would die for his crimes against his allies, his crimes against the people of Megas, and most of all, his crimes against himself. He was just about to close his eyes, when a brilliant flash of light startled him. Suddenly the figure before him blurred and disappeared. Spots flashed in his vision so that he could no longer focus. So this is what it’s like to die.

Nyo'tei ran round the last bend leading onto the corridor in which Hartsock was located, feet slamming into the floor plating loudly and was confronted with the image of him next to a bulkhead as another shady figure was set to execute him. Her one functional eye immediately targetting him as a threat. Hooked up to her thoughts, her customised RUCUS rifle immediately loaded a kinetic slug, so as not to vapourise her quarry in the same blast. His death would come when her own life was not in such danger.

The realisation of this danger had become much more real when she had been accosted a few moments before one of her probes had located Hartsock. As she journeyed through the labyrinth, pointedly ignoring many of the side rooms that she guessed would lead to nowhere, the lights dimmed suddenly, immersing the hallway in darkness. She heard the sound of doors sliding open, and faintly, dripping liquid, tapping on the floor. Switching to her night vision, she backtracked to the now open door. The small rooms lights were also off, not that it'd illuminate anything. The walls were totally bare, and the only movement came from a dark puddle of liquid in the middle of the floor. From the ceiling, a trail of viscous liquid ran into the puddle, as it gently spread over the floor. Nyo'tei watched motionlessly for a few seconds as the drip turned stream grew. The thick, blackly red substance expanded over the flooring towards every wall, as she stepped back from it. Then, it rose, and began to coalesce together. Sticky globules became fingers, arms, toes, and a head. One foot of the new body took a step forward. It continued to grow until it was the height of most Jordaxians. The sickly red liquid hue of the body began to dissipate as it developed features. Recognisable features... but none of them fit. As the head ducked under the door and out into the corridor, the lights came back on. Nyo'tei could see now what it was that grew terrifyingly before her. Its face swam, taking on new shapes every second, hundreds of individual peoples faces running into one. As it stood, dwarfing Nyo'tei in the corridor, it began to speak, many voices, male and female, high and low, ranging from childish to the elderly, running into one combined, booming presence.


"You know Who We are. You know what you have done to Us. You know what We shall do in turn, and you cannot stop Us."

One of its brutish fists thrust forward, aiming to crush Nyo'teis face against the wall, though she moved with lightning precision and ducked past him opening up onto the corridor. The masses body lost cohesion for a fraction of a second and reformed facing her. She brought her rifle up, commanding it to load a single white phosphorus round from her backpack. The barrel extended outwards as the round slid into position, and immediately fired. The beast erupted in a plume of white, wailing with a terrifying power as the flames consumed it. Scorched limbs dropped to the ground, and splashed into the thick bloodlike substance they had once been, and flowed rapidly away down the corridor away from her, disappearing shortly afterwards. It couldn't be that simple, she thought, as her communicator started beeping. It was then she went to meet Hartsock, and was landed in her present situation.

As the other figure drew his pistol, she let loose with the round in her barrel. Ordinarily, it would have had enough force to comfortably kill anyone with minimal collatoral damage, pulping their ribcage and hurling their body away casually. That didn't happen, however. As the round struck him in the centre of his body, he flashed brightly, and combusted in a shower of ash, leaving no body. Taken aback by the entire bizaare nature of this contract, she could do no more but let the unanswered questions circle in the back of her mind. She walked to Hartsock, and lifted him to his feet, leaning him against the wall. Her eye focused, making the tiniest mechanical whirring as it rested on his face. It appeared to be totally vacant, which on consideration, she preferred to hysterical. Deciding to treat it the same way, she slapped him with a controlled force, hoping to bring him out of whatever stupor he lay in.

"Hartsock. Gather your wits." she said impatiently. "I've no desire to waste my time nursing you, especially when you're not injured. We have to move out before something else happens upon us. Tell me, what are you doing here? Do you have any idea what is going on?" Looking warily down each end of the corridor, she waited from a response from Marvin.

“Ah, hello Mr. Hartsock! It is good to see you!”

Dolphus Weber stood to shake his co-conspirator’s hand, brandishing a grin that spread from ear to ear. Leaning over his desk he greeted Hartsock, who then took a seat across from Weber. Always the precautious man, Hartsock had taken in his entire surroundings, the wood paneling of the walls, the invidiwood desk, the thousand-rupy portrait on the wall, it was all quite lavish. And it was perfect, after business hours, no one had seen him enter, no one would see him leave. And Dolphus wouldn’t have a security camera in his office, so it would be hours before anyone discovered what had happened.

“Likewise, Mr. Weber. It is almost time.”

“Indeed it is…it really is sad, you know, the poor old fool.”

“Areli, you mean?”

“Yes, Mr. Tyner is far too…closed-minded for this sort of business. He only focuses on one goal, when there is so much more to see.”

“You are very right. He is too obsessed with the Flower.”

“He probably would have taken credit for the entire thing as soon as he saw the effects. Then nobody would have known who the true masterminds behind this were.”

“We can’t have that, can we?”

With that rhetoric, Hartsock withdrew from his coat a small, black pistol, and leveled it at Weber’s head.

“What is this, Marvin?”

“Don’t take it personally, Dolphus. You know, I really did like you, but as you said, we can’t have just anybody around to take all the credit.”

Hartsock squeezed the trigger, a blue bolt of energy erupted from the barrel of the pistol, almost silent, as are all Protoculture-based weapons.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Blurred colors, clouded vision, a bright light, a soft voice calling…such a warm, pretty voice, calling for me…calling my name, Marvin…yes, that’s my name, Marvin…I’m here, what is it?

Hartsock’s vision focused to present him with a horrid sight. Before him was a great plant growth of some sort. Its enormous mass pulsated as if a thick, viscous blood flowed trough its veins. Across its surface were scattered small, three-petaled flowers, all in symmetrical groups consisting of a blue, a yellow, and a purple flower. The Flower of Life.

Tightly grasped in its vine-tentacles was a woman who, at one time, was probably very beautiful. Now her skin had turned the dark green shade of the growth, and her hair was thick and matted with the same substance that covered the vines that held her. No, the vines weren’t holding her, they were growing from her...

All over, the woman’s flesh had joined with the growth so that the two had become one…creature.

“Is this what you wanted, Marvin?” The same voice as before asked of him.

“Azu…Azucena…” A brick of recognition slammed into Hartsock.

“Yes Marvin. Do you like the new me? Isn’t this how you wanted things?”

“No…you…this isn’t.”

“What’s the matter Marvin? You don’t love me anymore? But I did this for you, Marvin! This way you can have me and the Flower whenever you want! Come to me, Marvin!”

“No, wait, stop!” Hartsock cried as the vines leapt forth from the strange plant-human and seized Hartsock. It lifted him up and pulled him toward the great mass.

“Stop! Let me go! Put me down!”

“Hartsock…” The voice continued. No, this was a different voice, a familiar, yet new voice.

A light jolt of pain suddenly ripped Hartsock back into reality. He studied his surroundings, the familiar bulkhead; the shadowy corridors; the strange android before him? The comm device! he had spoken to her before. She must have arrived just in time to save him from…a dream? It must have been a dream; he obviously wasn’t dead; unless hell is merely a continuation of one’s desperate reality. But what then, had happened to his assailant?

The android; Nuyoi-ay, was it?; now steadied Hartsock on his feat, but soon released her grasp as he gained his composure.
“I’m alright now, thanks. I’m, uh, not sure what just happened, in fact I’m not even sure what is real anymore. I’m starting to think, or maybe hope, that any time now I’m going to wake up on my ship. I really am an old fool.”

Harsock allowed himself a chuckle, although there really was no humor to be found in the present situation. After taking a breath, he continued.

“Like I told you through your comm. Thingy, I’m Marvin Hartsock. As for how I got here, well…my ship just sort of…died. I’m really unable to explain it. I made an emergency landing, and started to wander around here hoping to find some crew members, or someone. And that’s where you came in.”

“What is your major malfunction, Colonel!? You just killed that man in cold blood!” Leyton asked, standing up from the crewman’s freshly-slain, still warm corpse.

“He was insane. Useless to me. I will find the relevant data in the ship AI.” Borden replied.

“Even if you’re right, you still killed a member of this ship’s crew. We could have gotten a first-hand account of what the hell happened here! And you threw it all away!“ Leyton shot back.

“The Emperor works in mysterious ways.” Borden replied.

“What does that matter?” Leyton replied.

“He is the Emperor, my leader. I have seen the depth of his predictions, and I know that this is all part of his plan.” Borden replied.

“If he told you the sky was green, you’d believe it, wouldn’t you? Jesus, what’s this guy done to deserve such blind loyalty?“ Leyton asked.

“He has led our people through ten millennia, averted countless crises…” Borden replied.

“…And, from what Alyssa’s told me, caused many more.” Leyton replied.

“…Silence, heretic.” Borden paused for a moment before replying.

“Yeah, well, Alyssa’s told me about the ‘mighty’ Facehuggerian Emperor. Not much, mind you, because she doesn’t like talking about her life, but she told me enough. I know the score.” Leyton continued.

“And what ‘score’ are you speaking of?” Borden replied.

“How many innocent people has your psycho-leader killed?” Leyton asked.

“None. Xenos are not innocent. Nor are they people. They are a taint upon the skein of the universe, a taint that can only be cleansed with fire.” Borden replied, his voice as sincere as that of a naïve child, as though he really believed what he was saying.

“What did they do to deserve such hate?” Leyton asked.

“They exist. That alone is reason enough.” Borden replied.

“You sad, sad individual. I’m beginning to see what Alyssa was talking about. No wonder your country’s a bloody intergalactic pariah! What kind of civilized people would associate with a race of barbarians like you?” Leyton said.

“Many.” Borden replied.

“Sure. Name one. I mean a real one, not someone bribed or threatened into friendship.” Leyton.

“…” Borden paused, his eyes distant as though in thought.

“Can’t think of one then?”

“…The Allaneans. The Sskiss. The Mekantans and the Prussians.”

“Tarnshit. The Allaneans are a nation of, in your terms ’Filthy Xenos.’ The Sskiss are even more blatantly inhuman, while the Prussians are only recently unbound. They haven’t seen the results of your pogroms yet.” Leyton replied.

“I do not expect you to understand the intricacies of our faith, Heretic.” Borden replied.

“And I don’t want to, either. All I know, and all I need to know is that you and your entire people are psychopaths. Be thankful I need your money…” Leyton said, letting the implications of his threat sink in.

“You realize, Heretic, that the Doctor is one of us as well? She tries to deny her violent nature, but you saw her eyes light up when I handed her the rifle. You saw her hold it like it were her child. Deep down, she harbors an unquenchable bloodlust, as do I. Nothing will change this. And that bloodlust, Captain Leyton, is the curse of my people. The price we pay. The price all of us pay.” Borden replied, his voice becoming even more distant.

“The price you pay for what?” Leyton asked, now genuinely curious.

“Did you hear?” Borden replied, sticking up a finger.

“Hear what? All I heard was you lecturing me.”

“Listen more closely. Off in the distance, can you not hear it?” Borden replied, his hands at his side, not cupped to his ear like any normal person’s.

Leyton heard, though it seemed almost comically out of place. A babe’s wail ahead in the darkness, a sort of high-pitched squeal that screamed ’hunger’ to any that would care to listen.

“It sounds like a kid.” Leyton replied, shrugging.

“Perhaps, but children are not typically allowed upon Imperial vessels. The slave populations and female crew are all given contraceptive implants to prevent accidental births…” Borden replied.

“So what’s a kid doing here then?” Leyton asked.

“There is only one way to answer that. I shall take point. Captain, cover our rear. Trooper, you are to cover me as I advance.” Borden replied, his voice like a razor-edged rapier of cold, cutting through the air.

***

Mark clutched his pistol firmly. He wasn’t going to be caught with his pants down again. If there were any more crazies around, he wouldn’t let them touch Alyssa. He’d kill them first.

“Why do you care about her so much? After all, there‘s plenty of cows in the pasture. ” He felt himself ask. It was true, such protectiveness was out of character for him.

“I don’t know. Heh, maybe it’s the old adage ’men want what they can’t have.’ If she’s dead, I obviously can’t have her, now can I?” He thought to himself.

“You can’t lie to me. I know there’s something more to it. Don’t tell me you’ve actually fallen for her…”His voice asked, more insistent.

”You know, it’s been a real long time since I’ve felt needed. I mean really needed...”

”What do you think this is? Some sort of fairy-tale? What, you expect she’ll just embrace you and forget the fact that you’re a womanizing bastard who‘s tried to get in her pants from day one?” He felt himself ask.

”Maybe. Maybe not. But either way, I’m not going to let her die.” He replied.

“This way. Right around this… corner. I need your help to turn everything on.” Alyssa said, pointing towards a seemingly too-small room.

Mark chuckled. Normally, she wouldn’t use such suggestive phrases. Nope, normally she was an ice-queen. She’s say something like ’help activate the facility.’ But then, she had seemed almost out of it immediately after the… attack.

“I’m no expert, but this definitely doesn’t look like a medical facility to me.” He said, looking around. He’d expected something larger, something more in line with the scale that’d he’d seen in this ship. After all, everything else was huge. The ship itself was huge, the corridors were large enough to fit a grav-bus through, even the doors were big. So why then would the medical wing be so small? To say nothing of the fact that it didn’t even look like a medical facility. All it featured was a dull, steel-grey table that dominated the center of the room and reminded him of nothing else than an old ’alien abduction’ themed porn-movie that he watched once.

“It is. There’s a… a… box thing that turns it on.” She replied, sounding like a ditzy cheerleader.

“You mean a console?” He said, glancing at a small box that seemed attached to the side of the gurney.

“Yuppers.”

“Alyssa, are you alright? I mean, I know you were hurt, but you’ve seemed more and more air headed ever since.”

“Not really. The…” She started, fumbling for the right words, “…bug works on your mind before it starts on your body. I’ve seen victims forget who their own daughters are… But it’s working far too fast. Normally it takes days, months even. It’s been what, hours?”

“Yes, it’s been a little more than an hour since the attack. Now, how do I turn it on?”

“There’s a big green button marked ’on.’ But you‘ll have to wait. It can‘t work through clothes.” She replied, fumbling with the zipper that held her shirt up. Finally, after a moment of struggling, the restrictive garment fell away.

Mark gulped as he watched her breasts spring into view. Aside from their unnaturally white, almost porcelain-like sheen and sweaty coating, they were perfect. Not too large, not too small. He desperately tried to keep his mind off the spectacle. “Umm… how long will it take?”

“Ten minutes for the healing, another hour for me to wake up after.” She replied, letting her pants, and whatever undergarments she wore underneath them, fall to the ground. He turned away, trying to give the woman at least a bit of privacy. He knew he’d have to look at her to turn the machine on, but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. What the hell kind of perverts were these Facehuggerians? They require their patients to strip, and then they position the equipment so that the doctor only has to -accidentally- glance upwards in order to get a full view of their ’patient.’

“Alyssa, could you hurry it up please?”

“Hehe! Done!” She said, lying down on the cold metal gurney. “Turn it on pleeze!” From the enthusiasm in her voice, he could almost believe it was something else she wanted. But that, he knew, was totally out of character for the Alyssa he knew, the one he actually gave a damn about. So, averting his eyes as much as humanly possible (and then some,) he pressed the button.

A lot of things happened at once. First, there was a light ’beeping’ noise from the console as a red light, almost like a laser, etched its way across her skin. Then, indecipherable text (or, at least to him) scrolled over the console’s tiny computer screen. Then, the beep intensified, taking on a higher, fever pitch. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound good. Finally, when he glanced backwards towards her prone form, he noticed a great concrete-gray metal tube instead. He figured she was inside that, for whatever reason.. He wasn’t very up on medical technology.

“You were thinking about taking advantage, weren’t you?” He whirred, and came face to face with… himself. But, it wasn’t himself. It was something different that he turned to see. His doppelganger’s face was darker, more menacing than his own. The voice too, was also deeper; more mature and confident. Indeed, the only other difference was that he had a black goatee adorning his face like a blackened trophy.

“Who… what are you?” Mark asked.

“I’m you, of course. As if that wasn’t obvious. Now answer the damned question.”

“… Err, Of course not. She had some disease! Sif I’d want to catch that!” Mark replied, hiding his momentary hesitation with a slight chuckle.

“Is that the only reason?” The other him shook his head sadly.

“Absolutely.” Mark replied, more confident now.

“When have you ever cared about a woman’s feelings?” The Doppelganger asked, seeming to ignore Mark’s reply.

“Uh…”

“That was a rhetorical question. Now, listen, Marko, ’ol boy. When that tube‘s done, she’ll be alone and vulnerable. I want you to be a man…” Surely he wasn’t suggesting what Mark thought, was he?

“I’m not like that.” Mark replied.

“You’ve been lusting after her since the day you caught her scent. And now, now that finally you’ve got a chance to finally fulfill your desires, you won’t? You heard her yourself. It‘ll take her more than an hour to wake up…” His doppelganger said, looking at Mark with a big toothy grin, like a used car salesman haggling with a customer.

“Not like this.” Mark replied, turning away.

“You know this is your only chance, don’t you? You know she‘d never consciously love you.”

“I don’t care!”

Suddenly, the console beeped loudly, sounding almost comically like a microwave that had just finished cooking the greatest sandwich known to man. When Mark glanced at the table, he noticed that in an instant, the tube had vanished, to be replaced with Alyssa’s softly sleeping, and totally exposed, form. “Well, it seems the choice is now upon you. There she is. Go on, look at her. See that beautiful hair? It looks like strands of woven sapphire, doesn’t it? Can’t you imagine running your fingers through it? How about her succulent, full red lips? She looks like an angel, doesn’t she? Look at that taut, muscular belly. Won’t it feel soooo good to run your tongue down it, working your way down to the real treasure? And don’t even get me started on those silky legs… Just give in, Mark. It will feel so good. She’s sleeping, she won’t realize a thing!”

“No. I… I… care about her. If I just wanted some action, I could have gone elsewhere. Like you said, ‘there are plenty of cows in the pasture,’ but I think this one is special, and I‘m not going to hurt her.”

“A pity then. If you can’t be the man in this relationship, I suppose that I‘ll have to be…” His evil self said, advancing on the girl’s helpless form with a predatory look in his eyes and a big, toothy grin plastered across his face.

“Don’t you… uh, me touch her.”

“What? You said it yourself, you’re a lover, not a fighter. You can’t stop me. Hell, you are me. I wouldn’t be doing this if, deep down, you didn’t want it.”

Mark blinked and found himself raising his pistol unsteadily. “If you take one more step closer to her, I‘ll kill you. Get it?”

His doppelganger snickered. “Don’t threaten people if you don’t have the balls to carry it out.”

“I’m warning you…”

“Or what, you’ll shoot me? Don’t be absurd. You don’t even know how to use that gun. Now, you still have the chance to join me. There are plenty of… openings we could fill, you and I. We wouldn’t even have to stop when she woke up. Both of us could overpower her and…” The evil copy replied with a grin and a chuckle.

“I don’t think so. I’ve done lots of things I’m not proud of, but I‘m not that kind of scum.” Mark replied, his gun held high.

“But they’re no better, are they? Remember, I’m you. I know everything you know, and quite a bit that you’ve buried… What has the female species done for you, other than fling misery at you like fresh shit from a monkey’s cage?”

“Nothing…”

“That’s right. She deserves whatever’s coming. They all do. And together, we can make them pay.”

Mark looked at himself. He knew he was right. He… but then Mark glanced back to Alyssa‘s helpless form and he realized just what he was about to do. She wasn’t like all the other women he’d known. She wasn’t some easy conquest; some weak-willed whore. He wouldn’t hurt her like that.

“Wrong.” Mark said, pulling the trigger as the words leapt from his lips.

“Like I said, you don’t even know how to use a gun, much less hit the broad side of a barn. You-” The evil Mark replied before he felt a great pain and the onrush of air into his chest. Looking down, he noticed that where his heart had resided was now dominated by a donut-sized hole, blown clear through one end of his chest to the other.

“Bullshit!” The doppelganger said as he collapsed to the ground, seeming to almost melt into the floor before vanishing into nothingness.

“Glad that’s over.”

“It’s not over though, Marko. In the words of the Govenator, “I’ll be back!””

“You‘ve got to be kidding me...”

”It’s not that easy, Marko. Remember, I’m you. As long as you’re the bastard you are, I’ll be here. And, knowing you, I‘ll be here for a good long while...”

***

If Nyotei could have raised an eyebrow, she would have. She had expected that Hartsock would have been a little more in command in the situation, but it was not to be. He was just as confused as she, unless he was lying. But mindless suspicion hardly deserved any thought at the moment. She had other things to worry about, and a maintainance bay to travel to. Thankfully, another of her drones had found some suitable equipment fairly nearby.

Nyotei began to formulate a plan as she spoke to Hartsock, using as friendly a tone as she could muster, which was admittedly, not much warmer than her usual icy demeanour.

"Fine. We need to get moving. I've already found out just how lethal this ship can be," she said, pointing to her damaged eye, "and I've no intention of spending longer than necesary aboard. But I need some repairs. One of my drones has found a maintainance bay. From there we can find the bridge, and see what we can do about our situation and getting your ship fixed. Then we can get off of this thing. Agreed?"

Taking the few fractions of the second it would take for Hartsock to respond, she examined the footage her drones had captured. Everything seemed to be silent and quiet, nothing stirring. She couldn't even see any of the.... monsters, for lack of a better word, that had confronted her before. That was a worrying sign. The maintainance bay, or whatever it was supposed to serve, was another matter. Leaning back against a table, with blood strewn randomly around him. She flicked to watching the drones thermal footage. Still warm, which was a good sign. Perhaps he could tell them what had gone so wrong on the ship, or even how to bypass it. If not, he should certainly be able to send them on their way to the bridge.

As she pulled her vision back into her body, she seen Hartsocks lips moving to speak in return. Raising a finger to silence him, she spoke again.

"My drone just shown me a survivor in a maintainance bay. We've got to get there as soon as we can, he's losing blood." Giving him no time to assent or decline, she grabbed his arm and began running, just slow enough to let him keep up.

Alyssa frowned. Everything around her had a sort of blurry quality to it, she seemed totally unable to focus. Everything was indistinct, as though she were looking at shadows or reflections of what was. ”Where am I? she thought, struggling to remember what had happened. She recognized that she was lying on a medical gurney, and that someone had apparently seen fit to cover up her nubile form with her shirt. Then it hit her, rushing back into her mind like a biblical flood. The attack, Mark expressing a rare instance of selflessness… and then the darkness of sleep. She knew the autodoc had done its job, and that her lingering absent-mindedness was a result of the stasis field which had kept her clinically dead while the machine rebuilt her body practically from the ground up. It would fade quickly. Soon, she’d be back to her old self again.

“Over here.” She heard a little girl’s voice call. It sounded almost like her when she was twelve, so full of innocence, the kind of innocence that only a child can have, before she has seen the depths of depravity that humanity can offer... But how would a child get onboard a warship? Alyssa’s curiosity got the best of her, so, after spending a moment putting her clothes back on, she groggily got up and set out to follow the voice.

There was something wrong with the ship, though. It started out normal, brightly lit with harsh blue-white lights that provided a maximum amount of light and a minimum amount of heat, though that most assuredly was not the state she found the Crucible in. Out of the corner of her eye, Alyssa thought she could she could see shapes, shadows of people walking through the halls with her.

“Over here, sis! Hehe!” But Alyssa didn’t have a sister…

The scene slowly transformed before her eyes. She was no longer within the winding corridors of a massive warship, but rather, she was in the suffocating, tight hallways of her family’s estate, veneered with the finest woods and adorned with tapestries of her family heraldry, stretching back four score millenia, into the very mists of history. Brilliant hues of goldenrod yellow and deep, royal blue hanging lazily, so masterfully woven that they looked more apart of the wall than a decoration.

She left it all behind a long time ago.

Alyssa emerged into her old childhood bedroom, a lavishly decorated affair, dominated by one of those expensive quad-posted beds, made even more posh by the fact that it was most assuredly hand-crafted. At the time, she didn’t care. And, honestly, she still didn’t. Lying on the bed was a little girl, a tiny wisp of a thing with almost unhealthily-pale skin and piercing sapphire eyes that matched her hair. ”Wow, was I always so frail? Alyssa thought to herself as she looked at her remembered form.

“I remember this…” Alyssa said, her subconscious dredging up the most painful memories it could possibly find.

“Mistress Alyssa? I’m afraid that I have news… Doctor Tnedura has finished his tests…” Alyssa recognized the voice. It was her family’s butler, good, old, dependable Higgins. The closest thing she’d had to a father since she was born. The closest thing she‘d had to a father.

“Where’s dad?” She heard her younger self say.

“He’s sorry he can’t be here, Alyssa, but he’s been called into a special meeting of the Council of Nobles…” The butler replied.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Higgy. I know he’s left to see his secretary. I’m not dumb, you know.” The child responded.

“No, Alyssa, you certainly are not. Yes, he has left to see his secretary, even as his wife lay stricken…” Higgins replied.

“Yes, Higgy, he’s an asshole. What did the doctor say about Mommy?” The child replied.

“She is afflicted with Alabaster, S-she won’t even remember you, I’m afraid.” Higgins said, frowning.

“What… what can be done?”

“Nothing… Listen Mistress Alyssa, I really wish I had better news…” He replied.

“Take me to see her.”

“But your father forbade it.”

“Screw him. He’s off with some… some… whore while the mother of his only child lay dying.” Her child’s mind struggled to find the proper words for her contempt.

“…Very well. Come with me.”

Alyssa followed behind the pair as they stepped through one of the manor’s displacer-gates, leading directly into her parents’ room…

Immediately, the rank odor of decay pile-drived into Alyssa’s nose, offending her senses, just as it had all those years ago. She turned to run away, to flee back to the security of her own room, but she found the gate replaced with a wooden wall, demanding that she stay.

“Mommy?” The child asked, moving closer, peering into the bed, taking in the visage that had once been her mother. It was horrible, emaciated and nearly bald, with milky-white cataracts covering her eyes, but even so, Alyssa, even at so young an age, could see the blankness in them, the sheer lack of thought, the lack of remembrance. It was that lack that terrified her then, and still haunted Alyssa whenever she dared to remember.

Alyssa blinked, and when she opened her eyes, the scene was totally different. She was in the manor’s garden, surrounded by the growing seed of life, with vegetables and exotic fruits, and flowers that were there just because her mother liked the contrast they added to the scene…

But it wasn’t only plants that kept her company, here too was her best friend (or, former best friend, as she fled her life with all its past attachments not long after her mother’s death.) His name was Tanis, and, other than Higgy, he was her only real friend.

“Hi, Alee.” She heard him say, expecting him to be talking to another memory of her past. Instead, he was regarding her with a coy smile.

“Hi, Tee.” Alyssa said softly, half to herself.

“What was it you used to say, Alee? The more things change, the more they stay the same? You’ve changed, but underneath, you’re still the same girl I knew. I can see it in your eyes. You’ve still got that unquenchable spirit that made me love you.”

“Love? But we were just friends…” Alyssa paused, the stirrings of feeling slowly inching through her veins. She had certainly cared for him, and missed him greatly when she left… But had she loved him? Was she even capable of love?

“You know what I mean.” He shot back.

“I guess I do.” No she didn’t.

“Take a walk with me, Alee.” He said, grasping her hand with his own comparatively childish one. He was leading her out of the garden and into the orchard, a place with row after row of transgenic apple tree, each one bent almost to the ground. They were laden with a wide assortment of apples of every variety and color, from red to blue to green, sometimes even on the same tree.

“I know what the problem is. You can’t let go. It’s your guilt that’s made this hole in your heart. When your mother died, something else died within you. That’s why you ran away, right? So you wouldn’t be reminded of your… failure?”

“How do you-” Alyssa started to say before he held his finger up to his lips.

“Hush, Alee. No questions, just answers.” He replied.

“Yes, you’re right. But that’s not all. What he…” She said, turning away. She couldn’t bear to face him now.

“I know. What your father put you through, what he did to you was reprehensible.” He replied.

“Tee, I was always the smart one… You didn’t even know what ‘reprehensible’ meant…” She said with a cute sniffle.

“This place, not the gnarled and long-fallow path that your mind wanders, but rather your physical anchor, is evil. But, you’re here for a reason. The twisted strands of fate render you here, to this crucible. But know that its strength comes from within. Only you can banish your demons. Not I, not Mark, and not Leyton. They all have their own raging flash fires of emotion to contend with.” He replied, his eyes taking on a distant look, like two endless pools of ink-dark, deep water.

“What? I don’t understand?” Alyssa replied.

“Your time here is at an end, but remember me and be glad. Oh, and by the way… the wrong man in the right place can make all the difference in the world. Fare thee well…” He replied.

“Wait, Tee! I don’t understand!” Alyssa yelled, struggling for some trifle of clarity.

Alyssa’s eyes sprang open. She was still lying on the gurney, still partially covered by her shirt. The only difference was that she wasn’t alone. Mark was there also, facing away from her, apparently standing guard at the door.

“Such concern isn’t becoming of you, Mark.” She said.

“Alyssa, you’re awake! Uh… sorry” He said, turning around and then averting his eyes as he noticed that she was still clad in her birthday suit. -And what a birthday it must have been!

“What happened to you? Normally, you’d be leering at me like the pervert you are.” Alyssa asked.

“Err… Heh, heh… Would you believe I found myself?” Mark replied with a shrug.

“Christ and Freeman, is everything on this ship gone crazy, or is it just me?” She replied.

“It’s not just you. I came over and me, myself, and I had a splendid conversation…” He responded.

“I certainly hope you didn’t take advantage of anything, Mark. You know I’d have to hurt you if you did…” She added with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Nope. Though I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t think of it… Say, aren’t you doctors supposed to preserve life?” He replied.

“I’m a Facehuggerian doctor, Mark. I’ve got no qualms about killing the deserving.” From her look, she would have no trouble carrying out her threats.

“How lovely..” Mark replied wanly. “So, should we continue on our way? The Cap’n’s probably getting worried about us.”

***

“Say, Alyssa… Earlier, when you looked at that zombie-woman thing, you seemed more… I don’t know, shocked than I would have expected. Was there something special about that person? Other than the fact that she disappeared as soon as you shot her, I mean.” Mark asked.

“N… No, why do you ask!?” Alyssa replied, lying through her teeth.

“Come on, give me more credit than that. I may be a dirty git, but I’m not blind. When you lowered your gun, something flashed in your eyes. I think it was recognition. Am I right?” Mark said.

“Damn you.” Alyssa replied.

“I take that as a ’yes.’” Mark replied with a slight smirk.

“Yes…” She replied.

“So spill it.” He shot back.

“I’m not comfortable talking about my personal life with someone like you.” She replied.

“You wound me, Aly. “ She really did.

“Yeah, well, you deserve it.”

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll tell you my story, then you tell me who that was, deal?” He offered.

Alyssa remained silent.

“Okay. After I put you into that machine thing…” He started.

“A nuclear reconstructor.” Alyssa blurted out.

“Fine, after I put you in that nuclear reconstructor, I had a very strange experience. Like I said earlier, I met myself. Except I wasn’t speaking metaphorically. Another me literally came up and tapped my shoulder. ‘Cept, this was an evil me. He even had the goatee and everything.” He continued.

“A goatee? What does that have to do with being evil?” Alyssa said.

“Alyssa, I wouldn’t expect you to get my little twentieth century references. Now, please stop interrupting.” Mark replied.

“Anyway, we had a little tussle. Actually, it was related to you. You see, he wanted to take advantage of your… condition. I didn’t. So, when he tried, I shot him. Bastard kept saying that he was a part of me, and that he wouldn’t be doing anything if I secretly didn’t want it. Either way, I managed to deal with him, for the time being. Now, your turn.” Mark said.

“I don’t think so. You’re still scum.” Alyssa replied.

“Come on, Aly! Don‘t be like this!”

“Go to hell.” She replied.

***

“This way” Leyton said, running towards the sound, his curiosity getting the better of him. Borden and the Tappean trooper were in hot pursuit. Was running through the halls of a ghost ship like a chicken with its head cut off a particularly good idea? Perhaps not, but then, they hadn’t yet seen a single true threat between the landing bay and the bridge. Just a crazy guy, and he was obviously quite easily dispatched.

The child’s almost supernatural wail of hunger grew louder and more ear-splitting the closer Leyton got to its source. Of course, the darkness made certain that Leyton was almost on top of the creature before he could truly make it out, but it certainly was not a child.

Well, that was not necessarily true. In most respects, it was a human child, clad in powder-blue rags that were torn and soaked in a sticky, viscose reddish-clear fluid. An umbilical cord hung uselessly from its stomach, dragging on the ground as it unsteadily walked forward on its pencil-thick legs. But by far the most striking feature were a set of razor-sharp talons where its fingers should have been.

“Mother of god…” Leyton said as he regarded the child in the light of his flashlight, trying desperate to explain what he was seeing. He had seen children before, and claws certainly weren’t part of the package.

The child’s ears perked up at this, and it looked at Leyton with a sort of cute, almost innocent expression that was wholly at odds with the hideous, malevolent scream that erupted from its tiny mouth. In a flash, the creature leapt at Leyton, crashing into him and causing him to fall to the ground, more from shock than actual force.

“Jesus, get this thing off me!” Leyton cried as the creature swept its talons over his chest, leaving deep gashes in his flesh. The child lapped at the freely-flowing blood eagerly, like some perverse dog at its bowl, or like some demon at the teat.

Leyton bashed the creature in the head with his pistol, trying to dislodge it, but that only caused it to dig its talons deeper into his skin, nearly impaling him. For his part, Borden watched the spectacle from the side, watching, not lifting a finger to help Leyton.

“Borden you bastard! Help me out here!” Leyton yelled as his life drained out of him.

“Very well.” Borden said, crossing the distance with three massive steps. Then, with almost sickening ease, he grasped the infant’s head and twisted it, soliciting a sickeningly-quiet SNAP! Noise as its neck was cleanly severed. But that was not the end of it. Even though its head hung at an unnatural angle, the creature’s talons still dug into Leyton’s chest. If anything, they were rending even more eagerly than before.

“Strange.” Borden said before grasping the infant’s tiny head in his hand and squeezing with all his might, aiming to crack the child-creature’s skull like a ripened walnut, as he had done so many times before. The thin, ill-developed bones gave way easily, but even that still did not stop the rest of the creature’s body from continuing its grizzly task.

“Trooper, I require your assistance. When I remove this creature from the Captain and toss it away, you will fire upon it, Acknowledged?”

"The maintainance bay, yes, that's good. We should go there. Get you repaired. Um, how did you get here anyway?" Hartsock said as they ran along.

As he waited for the answer, several realizations suddenly came upon him. He had no clue what was happening, or even if he was hallucinating again. Or had he even hallucinated in the first place? Both times, it had seemed so real, but it couldn't have been! The man who tried to kill him; the plant-human creature that bore such uncanny resemblance to the only woman he had ever loved, they invaded his thoughts and pierced his very being. He could not concentrate, and nearly tripped and fell into Nyo'tei.

And just who was this Nyo'tei android he was following? Why was she hear? How did she get here? Was she part of the crew? Maybe she could help Hartsock repair his ship...

Hartsocks breathing quickened, nearly keeping pace with his thoughts. Was his ship even damaged? If so, what was wrong with it? The readouts reported massive failures in many systems, but never a cause for any of it. Hartsock couldn't think of a cause for anything, at the moment. Nothing at all. Maybe there would be answers in the maintainance bay. He could at least hope.