Ava’s pleading screams echoed in your head; you had freed the black box. As it sloshed around in the rising blood, you hoped that ironically placed life preserver secured with your hood would get it to where it needed to go. Your arm seared in pain as the four proximity alerts clicked furiously.

This was it. This was the end.

You stumbled back as a horrific rending noise was followed by bone spikes driving themselves through the rusty hull of your casket. A split second of shock at the sight wasn’t enough to stop blind rage and spite bubbling up into your chest, replacing terror and anguish—if that thing was going to take you down, you weren’t going without a fight.

Before you could loose a battlecry, an enormous clang rattled the top of the rustbucket’s hull, startling you . That sounded like metal on metal , the thought stopped you in your tracks.

The ship lurched upward violently sending you to the floor at its suddenness. Had something else grabbed onto the sub? Akin to the fish and the tow ship playing tug-of-war previously, before the chain snapped and sent you tumbling into that cave system, once again the ship was wrenched this way and that, being yanked about like children fighting over a toy. The motion tossed you to and fro about the floor, careening your right thigh into the chair stand, your head narrowly missing the corner of the control panel.

YOU CANNOT ESCAPE YOUR FATE, SIMON

The cacophony of voices filled your head, making it feel like it would explode from the pressure. You could hardly pay attention to it as the blood filling the belly of the ship rushed over you, given motion by the thrashing of the opposing forces influencing themselves upon the tin can. The blood burned your skin, white hot on the exposed muscle from where you’d freed your arm. Your brain hadn’t quite caught up with the state of your left arm, as you attempted to grasp at anything in an attempt to stop sliding around with your missing hand. Your good hand found purchase in the grating on the floor, camera side, giving you some stability in the tossing and churning, and in an attempt to turn your face away from the waves of blood overtaking you, a lucky glance at the depth gauge showed that the taunting green light was ascending?

The hull creaked and moaned under the immense pressure, more even than it had in the deepest depths of the blood ocean. It sounded ready to give way, at the front, where the bones—teeth? still held purchase.

HUMANITY IS DEAD. YOU CANNOT BE SAVED. THE LIGHT—

The voices suddenly screamed simultaneously in pain—a far different sound than the previous anguish and rage—as the unmistakable sound of an explosion rattled the tin can, along with your bones. The thrashing diminished in it’s ferocity—was the fish no longer fighting? The hull groaned, sounding ready to burst, but instead of the sound being that of it rending inward, it sounded like it was being rent outward. The voices screamed impossibly louder;

NO. NO!!

You watched the green light of the depth gauge ascended faster.

Then, the speaker crackled, and the indicator light flickered, catching your eye.

“F-re agai—!!” came the voice you recognized as the first mate, broken up by the bad connection.

The bones intruding the ship seemed reluctant to let loose, but they were inching their way out by the second.

“Hold on, Captain!!” the speaker barked just in time for another explosion to pass it’s shock wave through the ship, making it ever more difficult for you to keep your hold on the grating.

With another hauntingly omnipresent scream, the bones loosed themselves from the hull with a sickening scraping sound, allowing a torrent of blood to flow into the cabin.

THE LIGHT CHOSE YOU, SIMON

The voices seemed to retreat, ominous as their words were.

With the now steady momentum making it possible and the incoming tide threatening to drown you, you pushed yourself to your feet, holding onto the metal piping with a death grasp that the slippery yet sticky blood made nigh impossible. Your newly bashed leg ached, mirroring the stabbing pain in your ribs from the previous beatings from being flung around. “Get—Get me out of here!!” Your voice was shaky, pleading. You looked to the speaker—it was saturated in blood, coated in the fleshy growths. No way that thing was working anymore, so you impatiently turned instead to watch the depth gauge.

The ascension made your eardrums hurt. The blood in the belly of the ship reached your thighs as the gauge read 3/4ths.

Soon, the steady pull turned into a lurching yank, and you moved to hug the pipe for stability. It wasn’t long until you could hear the crank of the winch from the tow ship, and shortly after that, the inflow of blood reversed, and it began instead to recede.

“Fuck, it’s the ‘13—!” Deeply muffled by the thickness of the hull, and hardly audible over the sound of the blood draining from ship came a voice you barely recognized as one of theship’s crew.

“Open it regardless! Convict, do you hear me? Are you alive!?” came the first mate’s voice, sounding strained from shouting orders.

“I’m here!” your voice cracked as you strained to shout over the pain and the thunderous rushing of blood.

“Get it open, NOW!” the first mate’s voice barked to the crew. Didn’t Ava call him David? Or was that a hallucination..?

Unlike the first time they pulled you up, they didn’t kill the power to the ship. Still, you could catch movement beyond the ruined hull through the puncture holes, and starting from one on the opposite side of the ship from you, a blow torch’s flame lit up the dreary cabin.

Adrenaline from the encounter wearing off, you carefully sunk to the floor as a second blow torch flame pierced through the rust bucket’s side. The pain in the remainder of your arm made you whimper, now that there was room in your brain to process the sensation, and you could hear David(?)’s voice commanding the crew to work faster. Being reminded of the pain made you realize how hard you were breathing—and that breathing was easy, now. Right. There was air on the tow ship.. The increased air intake helped clear your head further, making your brain very aware of all the aches and pains accumulated over the whole of the ordeal. Everything hurt, and while your left arm was the loudest, closely following behind it was the deep rot in your right forearm. The clarity amplified the pain as seconds ticked by, squeezing tears from your eyes and loosing louder cries from your chest. It took everything in your force of will to not hold your stump with your good hand—some sliver of logic capable of screaming through the pain demanded that that was a bad idea right now, no matter how strong the instinct was to do so. You rested your head on the cooling metal of the pipe you leaned against, also realizing how good it felt to feel cold again.

Slowly, agonizingly so, the pair of blowtorch operators cut open a 2-by-2 meter hole in the hull. Watching it was like watching for a star’s light to finally fade away. As it neared completion, you forced yourself to your feet with an agonized sound, your legs nearly betraying you. When the new hatch was pulled open, several crew members rushed to step inside—then stopped immediately, frozen at the alien sight of the cabin. David’s vaguely familiar face got a peek inside and the color in his face flushed away quickly.

“All crew, in your hardvac suits, NOW,” he demanded. “That includes you, medical!”

You stumbled toward the opening—freedom. You had to catch yourself on the already broken chair, which thankfully held your weight one last time.

“Wait, wait—” David held up his hands toward you in a “stop” motion. “Let medical get geared up—what the fuck happened down there?”

You couldn’t stop, momentum was the only thing keeping you on your feet. “I—” You couldn’t get words out of your chest, everything hurt too much. The control console, slick, but sturdy, became your next crutch.

David moved aside to make room for other crew members as you reached the hole cut into the side of the sub. Two members of what you assumed had to be the medical team reached to aid you in stepping out, both in various degrees of having their hardvac suits put on correctly—you were somehow too quick for them.

“Fucking hell,” one of them muttered at the sight of you, but moved to help support your weight toward a gurney.

“Med bay, we need an operating suite prepped, stat,” the other spoke into a comms unit, bringing the stretcher closer and reaching to help guide you to sit on it.

“Operating suite?” you mimicked in a small voice.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” the first medic reassured. “We’re gonna have to patch up that arm.”

Somewhere in your subconscious you knew it was going to be way more than just what was left of your arm. Sitting on the stretcher, you got a glance back into the sub; it was even more alien than you thought, and the crew’s reaction to it was wholly justified. As the first medic inspected the remnant of your left arm, you overheard one of the other crew, in full hardvac suit, step into the sub and curse, voice modulated by their suit’s intercom, “What the fuck…”

The medic inspecting your arm mirrored the crew inside the sub, but quieter, seemingly more to themself; “What the fuck… ” The second medic peered over at what the first was looking at. “That alien growth… It’s completely covering the would-be wound. He’s not even bleeding…”

“That’ll reduce some of the urgency..” the second medic replied, sounding like they found a silver lining.

Being guided with gentle hands to lay on the gurney, a realization dawned on you: “The black box—” Fighting against the pain in order to get breath for words, you croaked, “I retrieved, the black box. It was floating around, it’s—It’s in the life preserver.”

“Find that black box,” David demanded to the two suited crew members. “Holy shit, convict. I don’t know how you did it, but. Good work.”

The med team moved to roll you away, walking quickly. You strained to hear the outcome of what was going on with the sub—an extremely muffled shout from within the hull declared: “I found it, sir.”

“Good, get it to the comps team, get that information off it.” David’s voice faded as you were rolled out of the hangar into the belly of the tow ship, vaguely recognizing it from when you were led through there to the sub in the first place. “Winch team, continue trawling for the SM-14. If the Captain’s still down there, we have to fi…”

“She’s dead…” you muttered as you were brought out of earshot, hardly above a breath. You let your eyes close, trying to focus on the sensation of being rolled down the hall, rather than on the overwhelming pain.

“Keep your strength,” one of the medics said placatingly, seeming not to have heard what you said, just that you had said something. “We’ll be in medical soon.”

“That thing got her,” you said louder, straining. “Ava’s dead. She was on comms with me when that thing got her. They’re looking for a wreckage.”

“What?” the medic said, sounding taken off guard.

The medic with a comms unit didn’t reply to you, but moved to toy with the device instead, then spoke into it, “Sir, the…” she hesitated. “The… patient, says the captain was killed by that monster.” Did the medic just call you “patient”? You couldn’t hear his reaction, only the medic’s. “He’s said that she was on comms with him when it killed her.” Another pause without context. “Yes, sir.”

You opened your eyes and looked to the medic, now afraid of what that news might bring down upon you.

“Acting-Captain would like to speak with you, when you’re out of surgery,” her voice was even, but gentle. “Rest, there’s nothing more that can be done now.”

Fear settled in the bottom of your stomach, and if you’d had anything to retch up, it would’ve come up, between the terror, pain, and nausea from hunger.

The med bay was small, but not unrightly so for a vessel of the tow ship’s size. The medics rolled you into the center of the room and left you there unceremoniously as they rushed to finish putting their hardvac suits on completely correctly, then to the edges of the facility to gather what you assumed were needed materials to prep you for surgery.

Exhaustion and blood loss was beginning to pull at your consciousness, and you didn’t get much of a good look around before your eyes drooped shut, now that you weren’t actively being fawned over. There was a curtained off section of the med bay, and a second’s thought about it made the memory smash you in the head like a hammer—it’d been so long ago now, proportionately, but the welder… The x-ray camera… Fuck. It made your heart sink.

Before a mental spiral could set in, one of the medics was back to your side, prompting you to open your eyes a sliver to watch; they had a pair of safety scissors like the ones in the sub in their hand, along with a hypodermic needle. Setting the scissors on the gurney beside you, they moved to gently touch your left shoulder with their freed hand.

“Pain killer, this should help cut off the neurons firing to your brain,” they said, their voice modulated by their hardvac suit’s intercom. “At least for a little while.”

You hardly registered the needle piercing your skin over the pain from the end of your arm. Hopefully that went into effect soon… “Thank you”, you muttered, hardly above a whisper as the pain took priority over your breath.

Putting the spent syringe aside, the medic then picked up the scissors and began to cut the clothes off of you, and concentrating on their work to help ignore the pain, you finally registered just how messed up you looked. Besides being wholly dyed a deep red, and the soggy stickiness of the garments still clinging to your skin, the cloth had been taken over by that fleshy alien growth in thick, grotesque patches. There was no saving that cloth, so there was no reason to argue about it being cut off of you.

The other medic came back, dragging along with her a hose, a set of towels in her other hand. “It’s probably going to be the most awkward shower of your life, but we need to get that blood off of you, for contamination concerns,” her voice, though also modulated by her suit, had a tinge of apology and playfulness.

“Did you go swimming in it​?” the first medic asked, mostly rhetorically, as they pulled the scraps of cloth away from your skin, making sure that none of it was firmly stuck to any wounds, and giving the gentlest of tugs to free the cloth where it was.

“Uh… yeah,” you couldn’t help but reply, trying to aid them by moving your limbs, only to be gently reprimanded and reminded to rest.

The second medic made a surprised sound, “Why?” She set the towels on a nearby counter, then returned to assist in removing your boots and socks.

“I had to get the black box… I thought I was a goner,” talking wasn’t helping you breathe, but it was helping to try and ignore the pain. “The sub was filling with blood.”

“That was insanely brave,” the first medic declared, offering a gloved hand to you to help you sit up.

You took it, bracing as they pulled you to sit upright. Your ribs screamed in protest. The second medic removed the remnants of your shirt from behind you, letting out a horrified breath at the sight. The first medic, continuing to support you, helped you shift your weight on the gurney so your trashed pants could be similarly discarded of. Freed of your clothing, you were suddenly extremely aware of how itchy you were, sticky blood and loose cloth fibers creating a horrible sensation all over your body.

The second medic turned on the hose as the first grabbed tattered old washing cloths from the pile. “Steady,” the second medic said, giving you mental warning before she turned the water stream to run over your skin. It was freezing, but after the initial shock, it felt amazing on your overheated skin. Both medics worked in tandem to scrub blood from your skin and body hair, pausing at intervals seemingly to take inventory of what wounds you had. You let them, your body finally losing it’s fight with continued consciousness.

You woke lying on cloth instead of the steel gurney you remembered resting on last. Opening your eyes in delirium, you also registered you were in a different part of the med bay.

Everything hurt still, but in new, and different ways. Grogginess left your brain sluggish and confused, so the sensations came in odd waves. You realized you were laying on your right side, figuring this out as you tried to move both arms, but found one unresponsive, and the other pinned beneath your weight. Unresponsive—? Oh, right. Duh, Simon. Your upper back was stiff, and trying to move your left shoulder tugged at the skin there in such a way that it felt like there was glue pasting your skin together.

A medic, this time not in a hardvac suit, rushed over to calm you; “You’re okay, you’re in the med bay, recovering from surgery.”

Surgery? you thought. How fucking exhausted were you that you slept through surgery? The tight, glue-like sensation on your back began to pinch and pulse angrily with your heartbeat, having aggravated it. That sensation brought others just like it to the forefront of your consciousness; your right arm, the one you could still feel, had the same sensation when you flexed your hand, and oddly, your face was tight and— was that bandaged too? What happened to your face?

“Whu’d y’ do t’ me?” you slurred, hardly recognizing your own voice.

“You had… extensive alien growths—no, more like.. tumors… all over your back and arms, and various places in between… We had to excise much of it, and use grafts from your thighs to cover much of the open wounds,” the medic responded carefully. Grafts, huh. That alone put the extent of the surgery into context. Now that she mentioned it, your brain registered a very dull, pounding pain from the graft harvest sites. “We were also required to do a lot of digging to excise the growths… You’re going to be in a lot of pain for a long time while you heal. Keep your strength, rest. You’re going to need it.”

“Why?” was all you could say, accusingly.

“Why?” she mimicked questioningly.

“Why.. all the surgery. Why fix me. They’re just gonna. Send me back down.” Seemed like a logical train of thought—they’d done it once before already, going back on their promises. “They just want me dead.”

The medic made a sympathetic sound. There was a pause, you assumed she was picking her words. “The anesthesia must have you confused… I don’t know the extent of your situation, but. As far as I’m aware… Your Realization has been completed. You are a valuable member of the Consolidation, of course we’re going to fix you up.”

Several trains of thought made their way into the forefront of your mind at her words, and trying to untangle any of them from another through the grogginess was too difficult, so instead you tried to actively use your eyes for the first time since you woke up, and focus on the medic’s face. She was giving you an understanding and sympathetic smile. Anesthesia? You were surprised that they even bothered to use anesthesia on you. That shit had to be rare, and to waste it on you? When was the last time you had been put under anesthesia? You couldn’t remember. Had you ever been? You recalled something about people’s brains being addled after waking from it, though… The Realization was a real program, not just an excuse to write off prisoners? “And what is a one-armed murderer any value of?” You couldn’t keep that one from slipping out of the mess of thoughts. Especially one that was going to take months of down time and already scarce medications to heal properly? And still never be truly useful?

She seemed taken aback. “I’m… not the one that can answer that. But.. I was informed of the weight of your actions, in the blood ocean. Whether they had been out of selfishness or selflessness, only you can define. But, they’re still actions that aided the Consolidation, and it only seems right to me that it fulfill your Realization.”

No amount of good you did on this moon could outweigh what tragedies you’d caused before, and you knew it, but there was no way to explain that to someone, even in a fully lucid state. Instead, you opted to stay quiet.

She seemed to sense the opposition, and gave you a resigned expression. “You have an IV drip of saline, nutrients, and pain killers in your left arm remnant. Please try to stay on your right side so that your back grafts can stabilize. Even if you don’t trust me.. isn’t it worth seeing if I’m being truthful?”

After all the times you’d been lied to in recent memory, it was hard to accept; but… if they had gone through all this trouble so far, just to sentence you to death, that didn’t make much sense either.

Hope had always been your strong suit.

“Let me know if your pain raises above this baseline. Or if the pain subsides enough to let you feel hungry, I can get you something to eat,” she offered. “I’m going to let Acting- aptain know you’re awake.”

“Thank you,” you muttered after her. As she walked away, your eyes fell to the inside of your right arm, and trailed up to your fingertips. The bandaging looked not much different than you’d triaged in the sub, but was far tighter and more professional. Trying to flex your fingers, they were like steel cables attempting to respond. You had to wonder how much damage was done by that rot, and if your remaining hand would ever be useful again. Your fingers themselves looked like they had water ripples carved into them. They were stiff and pinched when flexed, but not as much as your back—it looked like wounds had been glued together… The medic said something about cutting out alien growths, and it came back to you that it was probably remnants from when the fleshy growths had strung you up. Seems not even your right arm made it out of that unscathed.

The thought occurred to you, and you began to gently prod at your torso—was the damage only located on your upper body? Unceremoniously flinging up the blanket giving you privacy momentarily to duck your hand beneath it, you couldn’t feel any wounds or growths or patched spots anywhere, but also your range of motion wasn’t very good at the moment. Eventually the pain of aggravating the wounds on your arm made you give up.

Whatever bed they had you on wasn’t the most comfortable one you’d ever laid on, but it was better than the one in the COI’s prison. Laying down felt good, even with the background noise of the now severely dulled pain. At least the meds were working. Exhaustion gnawed at your consciousness even still, bringing back Ava’s words of how they’d lost contact with you for days.

The slurry of thoughts became a fog—it was painful to think, and the exhaustion lulled you closer to sleep with each passing second. Sleep sounded really good right now…

“Ah, shit, I think I just missed him.” The first mate’s voice prompted you to open your eyes. “Oh, or not. Welcome back to wakefulness,” he greeted, kicking a rolling chair over to sit beside your bed.

You closed your eyes again, not sure you had the energy to engage with what was going to be a painful conversation.

David(? that was his name, right? … Jack? No, that was the welder…) was quiet for several long moments. “Simon… right?” he said slowly, uncertainty in his tone. “That’s what you told the captain your name was?”

“Yes,” you croaked, then cleared your throat. “’N, you’re… David? I... think she said your name while on comms.”

“That’s me, yeah.” He was quiet for a while. “I have… a lot to apologize to you for, Simon. The Consolidation has a lot to make up to you, I want to make that crystal clear.”

You snorted in disbelief and defiance—couldn’t help it.

“No, really. You... did the impossible. And we… almost didn’t give you the chance to do it—we hooked you while looking for the Captain, but we didn’t realize that you were what we were actually looking for.”

You feigned sleep while he spoke, though, more accurately you fought sleep from overtaking you, trying to see if he was going anywhere with this.

“Our comps guys aren’t even done pulling, deencrypting, and processing the data on that black box, but it is a treasure trove of information. We wouldn’t have that without you. For your efforts, I need to apologize for what I’ve said.… I’ve been thinking a lot about the way we’ve treated you, none of it was right.”

“Would you still be apologizing to me, even if I hadn’t gotten the black box, and you’d fished me up?” You opened your heavy eyes to see his expression.

David’s face was hard to read—you were making him think even harder about something you weren’t sure how much he’d been thinking about. “Yes… Because even without it, you still fulfilled your Realization.”

You made a doubtful sound.

“Look. Nothing I can say will make what’s happened here, right. We’ve made mistakes. Just like you have. But, you’ve done a huge service to the Coalition—no, humanity, as a whole. You won’t understand until you see what’s in those files, and I’ll break chain of command myself to make sure you get to see what good you’ve done.”

Your brow furrowed. The fuck could possibly be on that computer?

“It’s classified, confidential. And confusing as fuck if I were to try and explain any of it to you without the files for context. And I’ve only seen a fraction of what they’ve pulled off of that black box, are in the process of pulling off of it. You saved the work of our top scientists—that’s what was on the SM-8. They had scanning functions and sampling devices we can’t make anymore, we thought their information was lost when they were.”

That was the only thing so far he’d said that made any sense. The desperation in Ava’s voice when you mentioned the SM-8, her pulling rank to fulfill their deal. “I heard one of the voice logs from the crew after my sub downloaded their files. I think they’d been stuck down there for a while before they died.”

“We haven’t recovered that log yet—God, hopefully not,” David replied, sounding a bit harrowed.

Had that been a hallucination…? “I recognized the voice on the log…” How much of it was a hallucination? Why are you telling him about a hallucination? “I think that monster … was … the scientist… It sounds insane, but. It spoke to me, in that voice. I thought for a while she was part of another crew you left down there…”

David’s face went white. He seemed to be tripping over words to say. “What. Happened… down there?”

You closed your eyes. “Hell.” You didn’t have the heart to tell him it also spoke to you in Ava’s voice.

You were both quiet for a long, long time.

“I should let you sleep—” he eventually sighed.

“How long was I down there, David? Tell me.” As good as sleep sounded, as addled as your brain was, there were things that weren’t adding up, and it seemed imperative for your brain to know.

“About five EIC days,” he answered after a pause to think.

“Why didn’t you leave when I disappeared?” You were a deadman; what made their orders change to hold and observe? Fuckers.

“… Council’s orders. It’s protocol for us to make every effort to retrieve the hemorover before writing it off as a loss. We were scanning for the ship the entire time, waiting to see if the churning of the ocean floor would make it accessible for retrieval.” His voice sounded tired, and relinquished. “How the fuck did you survive down there that long…?” It wasn’t a question directed at you, but it still felt accusatory.

“You’re the one with technology to tell me that,” you grumbled.

He chuckled.

“How am I alive? The oxygen meter went up while I was trying to outrun that monster and get to the rendezvous point.”

“I— I have no idea. Hopefully the black box will give us some answers.” He moved to stand. “I’m going to let you rest, obviously you’ve been through a lot. I’m going to try and get in touch with a psychologist back on Derin Station, see if we can’t get a relay patched through to let you speak to someone about it.”

You opened your eyes to look at him, brows furrowing in question.

“You’re one of us now, Simon. You deserve the same healthcare the rest of us get—that includes brain healthcare. We’ll be stuck here on this moon for a while, searching for the captain, so a relay is the best I can do for now.”

As he turned to leave, you thought of one more thing he could answer; “Hey,” he stopped and turned back to you, “what’s… going on with the sub. That thing was fucked up. Inside of it, I mean.”

David’s gaze went long for a few moments. “Our scientists are analyzing it, too. And, the growths that the surgical team pulled off of you. It’s way too early for any conclusions though.” His eyes seemed to burn into you. “I know you don’t know but. What the fuck happened to you down there?”

“I.. think you saved me from Ava’s fate,” was the best thing you could think of to say.

David’s jaw set tight. He nodded, then turned to head out. Your consciousness followed him shortly thereafter.

Moving shadows and toothy monsters hovering over you when you awoke, followed you onto the tow ship. The medics, who had eventually introduced themselves as Kerry and Ianthe, assured you that it was due to the multiple concussions you had sustained from being flung about the sub like a ragdoll. They had their work cut out for them, as each time one of the hallucinations manifested, it was just as real as the teeth of the fish intruding into the sub, and they had run over to either calm you down, or physically restrain you so as to not let you rip off your grafts. They weren’t even allowed to leave you by yourself—you’d lost count of how many times they’d awoken you from a nightmare, where you had been thrashing and crying out in your sleep. Several times they’d apologized as antipsychotic medications weren’t standard issue in outpost medical kits, wishing they could help you better.

Time was an enigma in the tow ship’s medical bay, and it was difficult to tell how long you’d been there. The way the medics spoke referenced multiple days passing, but your time was mostly spent sleeping, having bandages changed, and being jumped by imaginary monsters. David had made good on his word, and gotten a psychologist from one of the COI’s stations to patch in and speak with you, who began the difficult task of helping you untangle what had been real in that sub, and what had been hallucinations.

David himself came down every so often to update you on the scientists’ findings. One time that he caught you, Kerry had you sitting up for a bandage change and a bit of physical therapy. He had a tablet stowed under his arm, and he moved with purpose into the med bay.

“Do I need to leave, sir?” Kerry asked him as he flipped through files on the tablet.

“No, I’m already breaking protocol by showing Simon this, so what’s one more person,” he said with a tinge of humor in his otherwise quite serious tone. “The council can bite me if they get wind of it.” He handed you the tablet shortly thereafter. “The comps team found the voice logs you were talking about. They’re… harrowing. What’s worse, is the logs are backed up by the data the ‘8 gathered. Take a glance.”

The tablet was big, forcing you to hold it on your lap to be able to stabilize it and scroll through the files with just one hand. The data on the screen was neatly arranged graphs and tables, things you weren’t super great at interpreting without a liaison. What stood out, and even you could pick out with your limited knowledge, was key words from the accompanying summaries; the voice log you heard from the SM-8, something about one of the researchers consuming the ocean blood, was in the document. There was a chemical analysis and breakdown of the blood from the ocean, confirming it to be molecularly human blood, as well as a summary of observations the researchers had during their time stuck down on the bottom of the ocean. Symptoms you experienced, the mutations, puking blood, hallucinations, were all documented by the research team to be happening to the one that was voluntarily consuming the blood. There was a small notation that the penning researcher believed the “voluntary”, was not truly voluntary, but compulsory, addiction-like. But you hadn’t been consuming it—at least, you couldn’t remember doing so… Was it just enough that it touched your skin? Or was it blood to wound contacts that caused your issues?

“I think… you were right… when you said, that we saved you from Ava’s fate...” David eventually spoke up, after allowing you a good chunk of time to process the information before you.

“What are you saying?” you asked, looking up at him.

“This is just one of hundreds of documents on the properties of the blood ocean; comps is still piecing them together into a usable dataset. This one, I told them to focus on, since you could back it up.” He paused, thinking of how he wanted to word his next sentence. “I also think you were right, in saying that that monster... was that researcher. Science got results back on the alien growths taken from you; it’s recognizably your DNA, but scrambled with significant markers of the blood from the ocean. Prevailing theory right now is the blood in the ocean is a carcinogen, but somehow, a stable one that doesn’t kill, but, mutates “beneficially”. Samples of the alien growth taken from the hemorover support the theory.”

Kerry’s work on changing your bandages had stopped several sentences ago, their shock visible on their face. “How…?”

“We’re not sure yet. One other factor of note; the growths inside the hemorover, came back with recognizable DNA samples that matched several DNA samples in the Consolidation’s records: several of the SM-8 researchers, several folks that are not associated with the SM-8, and Captain Ava.”

“It’s… subsuming the people it kills?” you asked, near breathlessly at the conclusion.

“It seems so…” he had a stoic emotion on his face, but it betrayed that he was putting it on like a mask, as if he hadn’t had the chance to steel himself at the thought yet.

Movement behind David caught your eye. Something had crept in from the main door to the med bay, and had swept back toward where the doorway to surgical was.

“How is that the only living thing we’ve discovered since the Quiet Rapture?” Kerry couldn’t help but ask.

You moved to look over Kerry’s shoulder to see where the figure went. Both Kerry and David watched you with questioning on their faces—but Kerry seemed to recognize what was going on, and they looked back at David for his response.

David looked to Kerry questioningly, and seeing they weren’t concerned, continued, “It’s not.” He reached over to scroll through files on the tablet in your lap. He overshot it by a few, and scrolled back.

Kerry bent over into your personal space, dragging your attention back to what was going on, so they could read along with you. This file was more charts and data tables, but this one was clearer at what it was depicting: seismic information on the floor of the blood ocean, volumetric pressure of the blood that made up the ocean, and higher powered penetrating scans that made it through the “sea floor” of the ocean, along with evidential samples, depicted the moon you were on as not a mass of rock, but of flesh. Human flesh. The ocean’s surface was described as an open wound in the skin of the entity, and the oceans, plural (there was more than one?), were akin to a reservoir of blood that oxygenated the body of the moon, evidenced by the flow of the blood through the cave system where you had been dropped into when the fish snapped the tow cable, where you’d found the SM-8 just outside of. Except it wasn’t a cave, it was veins. The upheaval and churning of the “ocean floor” wasn’t the ocean being fickle, it was the “body” of the moon reacting to stimuli invading it’s circulatory system.

“What the fuck…” you whispered.

“There’s more, but… This is the summary of it,” David said evenly, as if he had been able to process and compartmentalize this information already.

“We’re on… a mass of human flesh, filled with human blood… that mutates humans into nonhuman forms?” Kerry breathed.

I told you, you had done a great thing for all of humanity, Simon,” David said, his gaze hard upon you.

“How is this, great??” you asked, raising your voice, bewildered.

“It’s a step toward knowing what the fuck happened in the Quiet Rapture. This isn’t the only “moon” we’ve found like this. They’re no where near each other, in proximity, but this is the first one that has yielded results, and now that we know what they’re made of, it gives us clues.”

You shook your head, one of the things the fish had taunted you with floated to the top of your thoughts; it didn’t make sense at the time, still didn’t make any sense now, but felt relevant. “That monster… it taunted me while I was down there. Saying things like the cause of the Quiet Rapture was down there, but humans discovering it, knowing it, would cause the end of humanity—but that it was also the answer to humanity’s survival. ...It’s, like it was arguing with itself; it wanted so desperately to show it to me, but also protect me from it.”

You looked between Kerry and David; Kerry’s face betrayed that they weren’t sure how much of what you described was a hallucination, or real, based on how often they had to help ground you, and your actions just a few minutes ago. David’s face, however, was set—he seemed to believe you, probably based on files that he’d seen, but hadn’t shown you yet.

“What did you see down there?” David asked, point-blank.

You could only shake your head. You didn’t know. “I could tell you. I could… sit here talking for as many days as I was down there… and I don’t think even with the files you’re pulling off that black box, that you’d believe me. I don’t believe myself, right now. I… don’t know what was real, down there.”

“Something, anything, Simon. Try me,” he replied, with more insistence.

Your face screwed into a scowl, brows knitting—it hurt to do so, but it was a reflex you couldn’t avoid. You had to think—what was the most probable and real thing you could think of to give him? Out of a week of insanity? “Um… The.. monster gave me a set of coordinates. It wasn’t a set that was a point of interest, but it seemed insistent. I followed it, why, I couldn’t fucking say. There was a… light, of some sort. It was…. wrong. I had a massive hallucination about seeing, and being seen… A giant eye…. B—but I took a picture of it—the light. I don’t know if the sub saved that one.”

David reached for the tablet, and you let him have it. He scrolled furiously through the files, eventually finding what he was looking for and turning it back to you.

It was the picture you saw on the preview screen of The Light.

Your face went cold. You couldn’t help but nod. “That’s it.”

“The research team’s logs have a couple of long, rambling entries about “The Light”. Something about it being a fraction of the Quiet Rapture, and it being everything.. We initially wrote them off as a mental health break. But now.. I think you had a vision, rather than a hallucination.”

You stared at him, and him at you, for a long time—you didn’t know what to say to him, and apparently, he to you either. That revelation certainly didn’t help your inability to tell the difference between hallucination and reality, any, though.

David eventually heaved a sigh. “I need you to understand something, Simon. You’re the person we have that has any knowledge and experience with this situation. The blackbox files can back you up, anything you say, I’d bet. You’re not the only one who’s confused by the situation; we’re literally on the cutting edge of discoveries, so anything that you experienced down there has merit. Fuck, even your hallucinations do, because while you can’t tell if they were real or fake, neither can we. We have to treat them all as real. They’re evidence.”

You frowned, brow creasing in concern—it hurt to keep doing that, but you couldn’t help it. While it was consoling to know that what you’d been through was of worth and being taken seriously, a creeping dread leaked into your consciousness: you’d gone from human debris to most valuable person, on accident. You were never meant to be brought up from the bottom of that ocean, and yet, here you were, having gotten your freedom.

But, had you really?

He seemed to take your expression as a sign that you were contemplating his words. He shifted his weight and tucked the tablet back under his arm. “We’ve got another 12 hours or so, before we can write the SM-14 off as a loss. Especially with evidence that the captain is indeed dead… At that point, we’ll be contacting a vehicle transport to pick us up and take us back to Derin Station. It’ll be a few days until the transport reaches us. I’ll continue to bring you updates with data that we’ve put together, and hopefully you’ll be able to give us more information about what happened down there. But, you’re almost out of here.”

“I’m not… really free, am I?” you had to ask, pensively.

“You’re as free as me and Kerry are, in the grand scheme of things,” he replied, his voice taking on a light-hearted tone. “The council will probably hound you to detail everything you can remember, but, you’ll have your own apartment waiting for you back on the station, and will get to have integration classes and fill out a work questionnaire to figure out what you can or want to do for the Consolidation. Definitely get to work with a psychologist to sort out whatever the fuck happened down there. And, who knows, maybe the council will take you on as a consultant for the expedition division, considering the initiative and drive you’ve shown in doing this.”

Your jaw set, hard. You hadn’t even thought about what you’d do after Realization, as every waking second had been just getting through it. Initiative… Drive… Fancy words for “Survive”. It brought a sick churning to your stomach.

Whatever look you had on your face seemed to make him rethink his word choice, and his face took on an apologetic look. “Hey.. I.. don’t know what you did before ..uh, what landed you with us. But it’s all behind you now. This is mostly behind you. You’ve got a big future to look forward to; try thinking of what you wanna do with the rest of your life—it’ll help get your mind off of this.”

Kerry patted your knee. “He’s right. It’ll help ground you against your hallucinations to have a plan, something to think about that isn’t what happened.”

“I’ll let you get back to your work, doctor. And your rest, Simon,” David dismissed himself.

“Thank you,” you said after him, reflexively.

Kerry moved to continue your bandage change from where they left off—after having to remember where exactly that was. The nerve block to the remainder of your left arm decided to wear off at the exact moment they began unwrapping the bandaging there, the piercing, ripping sensation drawing an agonized hiss from between your gritted teeth.

“Whoops, let’s get you some more pain meds,” they said, immediately dropping their current task. “Was that the nerve block, or general meds?”

“N-nerve block,” you groaned, trying to catch your breath.

They returned in quick order with a syringe, the stick of the needle much more casual after having gotten it possibly dozens of times so far—you’d lost count long ago. The familiar feeling of numbness washed over the area, replacing the burning pain with first pins and needles, then nothingness—at first, the emptiness had been foreign, disconcerting, but you’d gotten accustomed to it. The emptiness, you could tell, was your brain unhealthily registering the absence of your arm. Ianthe had reassured you it would take time, but your brain would come to accept it—for the most part. With the pain deadened, you were able to catch your breath, and Kerry resumed their work after watching to make sure that you were okay.

“Hey,” you eventually broke the silence between the two of you. “What’s… What’s life like on Derin Station?”

Kerry continued their work as they contemplated your question. “I was going to say, ‘like any other station’, but then I realized you’re from Eden, aren’t you?”

You nodded.

They made a contemplative noise as they seemingly had to pick out details of what was normal to them, but had no idea if you had ever encountered before. “It’s quiet. It’s busy. People are working, relaxing when not working. There’s community spaces on the first ring, offices and maintenance on the second ring, apartments on the third, agriculture on the fourth, and the gravity is centrifugal. The intranet is pretty robust, unlike some other, smaller, stations in the Coalition.”

“Community spaces?” you asked, unsure what they meant by that.

“Sure,” they replied casually, as if they thought you simply were confirming what they’d said. A glance to your face made them realize that you had been actually asking them about it. “Oh. Like, places for folks to gather and sit and meet to chat during downtime. Food stands where folks prepare different types of dishes from the yields in hydroponics. Trading booths where resourceful folks can trade materials for other needs… Did, Eden not have something like that?”

You shook your head, thinking about the concepts they described. “No we… They are much more militant. Meals provided in designated areas at specific times. Assigned personal spaces and clan lodgings, with clan-specific spaces; there are mass-gathering areasfor ceremonies, but are only used then. Needs are provided for by clan leaders as they come up, anything that ends up excess goes back to the clan leaders.”

“That sounds… stifling,” they stated, putting the finishing touches on your left arm bandage.

You shrugged. It was all you’d ever known. “What you described sounds like chaos. Folks can just, take food whenever?”

They gave you a defeated smile. “Not to the extent you’re thinking of, but, for the most part, yes. On station, caloric intake is expected to be tracked by each person on a personal intranet interface—you’ll learn more about it in integration, but you’ll have to take note of what you eat, and supplemental vitamins will be recommended for your body composition by the tracking program. Excessive caloric intake will get you a stern talking to, and infractions for repeated offenses. The system has it’s own way of balancing itself out.”

“Personal intranet interface…?” you mimicked, though questioningly.

“Does Eden have an intranet?” They gestured for you to gather up your hair and move it aside, before they began to remove the bandaging on your right shoulder and chest.

“Maybe…?” You did so, slinging it over your left shoulder, turning your head to the right to keep it there, and to watch the medic’s busywork.

“An interconnected network of communications between people and a central hub of information?”

“We have interconnected comms units, and some of the upper echelon, like clan leaders and their subordinates, have personal tablets, purely for communication with security and station leadership. I think clan leaders might have access to something like a ‘central hub of information’, but I was…” you trailed off, trying to think of how to describe your position in the hierarchy. “Special forces, within security, and, didn’t interact much with the general folk.”

They seemed to digest this as they inspected your back graft. “Did you have a personal tablet?”

“I didn’t. I used one that was assigned to me for my duties, and only then.”

Movement across the med bay caught your attention again, your head snapping up toward the area to watch it carefully. You could make out the silhouette of the toothy monster that usually hovered over you, hanging out in the shadows caused by the two rooms’ lighting intersecting near the doorway. Your breath hitched, and you could feel Kerry looking over your shoulder to where your attention was.

Their hand gently pressed into your shoulder to ground you. “This will be similar, but you get to keep it. It’ll be a lifeline for you to interface with much of the Coalition’s data,” they said, using the continuation of the conversation to try and keep you in reality.

You closed your eyes and focused on their hand and words, trying desperately to forget what you saw, to convince your brain it wasn’t real. You took a few deep breaths, then made a contemplating noise at their words as they moved to continue their work, poking and prodding at your back. “Are there… any ceremonies to know about?”

“Not really,” they replied, moving to begin rewrapping your wounds. “I think that’s something the Consolidation’s missing… So many folks in the Coalition have sticks up their asses and could use a good celebration every once in a while.”

“Not much to celebrate, huh,” you said, just barely above a mutter.

“There may be, soon, though. Depending on just what you found down in that ocean,” a tinge of hope seemed to fill Kerry’s tone.

You sat with that as they finished up wrapping your chest, and through them moving on to your right arm bandaging. And then even onto your legs. You allowed yourself to open your eyes once the initial wave of paranoia passed, but low-level fear continued to worm its way around your consciousness, keeping your eyes mostly trained near where the figure had stood but was now gone. You both were quiet as they finished up, they took records on their tablet, then released you from their fussing with a reminder to let them know if you were hungry.

You thanked them reflexively and watched as they wandered off to do other tasks, content to sit up and think about what they had told you—and keep an eye on the shadows. You weren’t even there yet and the culture shock was startling. Integration classes, huh? Sounded like those would be useful. Integration… How would a Butcher like you ever integrate into such a different world? It made you wonder how far would your moniker follow you? Was passing your Realization enough to wipe your slate completely clean with the COI? Would the general populous know about it? A work questionnaire… Would your past follow you there? What work could you even do for the COI?

Eventually, you gently moved to lay yourself back onto your right side, trying not to pull any of your grafts. Thinking too hard and too long still stressed your wounded brain, and a good sleep sounded like just the thing you needed after all the information that you’d been given in the past hour.

The ship lurching nearly sent you tumbling off your bed.

SIMON

Panic sank into the very depths of your bones at the cacophony of voices reentering your head. Panic was never a good way to wake up, but neither was being thrown from your bunk—both? Awful. Confusion and terror filled your new wakefulness, but a different voice muttered gently into your ear; “Get down, Simon. Get onto the floor safely before you’re tossed from the bed.”

Painful ribs and healing graft-donation sites protested as you swung your legs down, then got low to the floor to brace for another impact, a clatter coming from nearby as you did so. Why didn’t you move like this in the fucking sub? Your subconscious ridiculed your consciousness. Could’ve saved you a couple concussions maybe. Actually, what was that voice just now?

Getting your bearings, you could hear Ianthe swearing from across the med bay and scrambling to her feet. Kerry was shouting from another subsection, somewhere that sounded attached but far away. There were oddly no klaxons, but just as you’d thought of that, David’s voice came over the intercom: “All personnel, brace for combat. That monster’s circling the ship.”

Your blood ran cold.

“Simon, are you okay?” Ianthe called, seeing you on the floor.

“Bracing for impact—” you replied, just in time for another jolt to rock through the hull of the ship.

THE LIGHT BECKONS YOU, SIMON

A familiar, but much more suppressed explosion shock wave passed through the ship’s hull, rattling your teeth. The monster’ s scream reverberated hollowly in your head, as though it were trying to take you with it.

YOU CANNOT ESCAPE THIS TIME!!

The voices were furious, pain evident in the tone. The ship rocked, feeling as though there was an impact, but not an outright slam by the creature. Did it bite the tow ship—?

“All hands, there’s been a hull breach in cargo sector 4,” came an unfamiliar voice over the intercom—thankfully, it wasn't automated.

Your chest shuddered, causing your breath to shake. Not again.

The ship jerked in a new way, the floor feeling like it was going to fall out from under you. Was it trying to pull the whole tow ship under? Another shock wave passed through the ship, garnering another scream from the creature, but this time, it sounded determined, desperate. Another jerk downward followed.

“What the FUCK is going on out there?” Kerry shouted, suddenly in the doorway of the med bay, somehow keeping their footing in the tug-of-war motions.

“How many warheads does this thing have?” you asked—it wasn’t a real question of the medics, but it certainly sounded like it leaving your mouth. Four, so far, by your count—two to scare it off while retrieving you, two now… Hopefully more.

“I don’ t know—” both medics said simultaneously.

Another explosion.

NO. NO!!

The voices sounded like they were fading, the tugging on the ship lessening.

“What the FUCK was that sound?” Kerry swore, holding onto the door frame for stability.

Your head and eyes snapped to them. “You heard it too?”

WE. WILL. ASCEND. AND YOU WITH US!!

“Was that Captain Ava?” Ianthe breathed.

So the monster wasn't just speaking to you this time. “It’s the monster. I heard it like this in the sub too—”

She looked at you, horror on her face. The monster screamed again, this time sounding as though it were out of breath.

“No wonder you’ve been having nightmares,” Kerry remarked dryly.

“That thing. Stalked me. For days,” you growled. “Yeah. I’d think I’d have nightmares.”

“Medical, come in Medical,” David’s voice came over the loud speaker.

Kerry skated across the floor as another tug from the monster rocked the ship. They hit the far wall with a sound that knocked the breath out of them, but they reached for the intercom and slapped it. “Go, Medical.”

“Confirm with Simon, what the Fuck is that sound?”

“That’s the monster!” you called toward where Kerry stood, setting your jaw against the pain in your ribs from the effort.

“Confirm, that’s the monster?”

“Confirm, that’s the monster,” Kerry repeated.

“We have it on a harpoon tether. We’re going to shoot this fucker til it stops moving. Hold tight.”

“Were they fucking prepared for this to happen?” you asked incredulously.

“Sort of,” Kerry replied.

Another explosion vibrated the ship. The monster’s cries were weak, and it’s thrashing became more chaotic, tugging the ship with small and uneven undulations.

“How much did you fuckers know about this ocean before you sent me down there??” you barked, pissed now.

“We’re not privvy to all the details, Simon, but we were made aware that there were hostiles,” Ianthe said, her voice soft and understanding, trying to calm you.

“We didn’t know what the hostiles were, just, to be prepared for anything,” Kerry continued. “I don’t know if David knows more than that. We certainly weren’t expecting this.”

“The only living thing besides us in all of space, and the COI managed to unknowingly send their research ship with more than five warheads, and they were all needed??” your growl was sarcastic, and mostly rhetorical, as you knew they didn’t know, and agreed with you. But, pissed as you were, that anger had to vent somehow.

THE LIGHT… WE SEE YOU…. NO… THAT IS NOT….

No one in the med bay breathed, waiting for more words that never came. Ianthe gently stood from where she’d been seated and clinging to a doorway, steeling herself for more tremors to come, that never did.

“All deck crew not triaging the hull in cargo 4, hardvac up and report to cargo 2,” came David’s voice over the loud speaker.

“Is it… over?” you couldn’t help but breathe.

As both Ianthe and Kerry came over to help you back to your feet, movement in the doorway to the med bay caught your attention. Clear as starlight and uncloaked by shadow, the toothy monster that constantly hounded you stepped into the room. Your reaction must have caught the medics’ attention, as both paused to look at where your attention was.

The monster stepped toward you menacingly, and you tried to scramble back, only to be stopped by backing into where Kerry stood. Ianthe moved to stoop down in between you and the monster, trying to calm you, but in your panicked state, you forced yourself into a sitting position and looked around her mass—it was gone.

You breathed heavily out of fear. It wasn’t enough the fucking fish monster was after you, that thing had to be too. At least the fish monster seemed to be dead now. Was that thing after you now to avenge it?

Gently, the medics coaxed and assisted you onto your feet, and then back onto your bed. Your body pinched and pulsed and cried against the pain of it, and you couldn’t help but whimper as the pain overtook the panic in your brain. “I.. I think I moved too fast getting down… I fucked something up.”

Ianthe gently shushed you and moved to help you lay back down. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t hurt after that. Hell, I hurt.”

“I’ll check your records and see when you got pain meds last, see if that isn’t the reason,” Kerry declared.

“Medical, come in Medical,” came the loud speaker again.

Kerry moved over to slap the intercom button. “Go, Medical.”

“Is Simon in any shape to move? You guys need to see this thing in person,” David sounded insistent.

“Negative, sir. Can you project a live feed to one of our PII?”

“If he’s awake, he has to see this thing, I swear to fuck.”

“Can we get him some pain meds first at least?” Kerry sounded irritated for you.

“Uh, what happened down there?”

“Got tossed around, no new injuries though—I think?” they questioned, looking to you.

“Uh, I don’t think so?” you replied. “At least it wasn't like in the sub.”

“We’ll need to put this thing on ice real soon, so don’t take too long.”

“Ice?” you mimicked. “How the fuck do you have ice on this ship?”

“Compressed CO2 isn’t that hard to keep under pressure and recycle to repressurize. I’m just glad we have as much as we do. We’re going to need it—just wait til you see this thing,” David replied, evidently having heard you. You shook your head, evidence that the COI knew what was down there mounting. “Come down to the observation deck for cargo 2. Don’t try going into the cargo area. External airlock is open and internals are engaged.”

“The airlock is open? No wonder the call for hardvac suits,” Kerry wondered aloud.

“That and also contact with alien matter, you know the protocol,” David responded.

Kerry shook their head and moved to the computer to pull up your file. “Meds can be refreshed soon, it won't hurt to give them early, especially if David is so insistent on moving you,” they declared.

You groaned at the idea of getting backup, but reached toward Ianthe to allow her to help you sit up. “Let’s see this thing that tried to eat me…”

“And us,” Kerry said dryly, coming over with a syringe. Ianthe snorted as she moved away to get the gurney. “I’m going to give you this bumper now, and then when we get back I’ll change out your IV to refresh the drip.”

You nodded quietly as they gave you the poke. They paused as they looked over your left arm remnant, then looked around the bed area. Curiously, you watched as they snickered. “Simon, you ripped your IV out hitting the deck,” they laughed as they moved to pick up the IV stand.

“Oops, sorry...”

“It’s a wonder you didn’t bleed all over,” they said, jokingly.

“What happened?” Ianthe asked, wheeling the gurney over.

“Simon’s disrespecting the medical equipment,” Kerry joked outright.

“I forgot it was there,” you retorted, tone apologetic.

“Ripped out your IV? I’m surprised you didn’t feel that,” Ianthe said incredulously.

“Over all the other pain I have right now? Not even a needle stick feels like anything,” you retorted dryly.

She gave you an apologetic face and offered to help you up. With Kerry’s assistance, the pair got you up and onto the gurney. Everythinghurt, but they did their best to reduce the amount of inflicted pain just by moving. Once they got you settled in, Kerry moved to roll you out of the med bay for the first time since you arrived, Ianthe accompanying to see what David was on about.

They took a turn down a hall that you didn’t recognize, but then again, you’d only seen one of the hangars on the ship. There was at least 4, based on the announcement earlier; how big was this vessel? After a droning amount of time traveling down empty and repetitive hallways, Ianthe stopped at a door ahead of you, and pulled it open. Kerry rolled you into a large room with floor to ceiling windows, the glass thick, but not much else in the room. There was a tension in the air that came from being on the pressurized side of a wall that had vacuum on the other.

Through the glass windows you could see down into the cargo hangar, an absolutely massive one judging by the people milling around on the ground floor looking like specks—especially beside the reason the hangar’s airlock was still open. Kerry swore in a language you didn’t recognize, and Ianthe gasped. “Fuck me…” you swore, letting a good look at the monster.

Though, that was an overstatement; there was no “getting a good look” at that creature. You looked, and looked, and every centimeter of it got worse the longer you tried to comprehend what you were seeing. The harpoon was sticking out of it’s side, evidently it had been reeled in after it stopped fighting by the anchor point, and even the harpoon, as large as it had to be to be able to be seen from the observation deck, was dwarfed by the creature’s sheer size. The long, sock-shaped entity had been strung up by the deck crew to support it’s weight and pull it further into the hangar, but it was so large and long, that it took up most of the cargo bay, and the end of it’s body was still hanging out and below into the blood ocean. You could see far below, specks of deck crew using a winch to try and pull the rest of it’s massive body into the cargo bay, meticulously so by winding itself back onto itself on the bay floor. Where it was strung up, there was a massive head made up of the impression of multiple human-shaped skulls hanging limply to one side, it’s jaw swung open to display the “teeth” that you assumed had pierced through the sub; and judging by your memory versus the image of the creature below you, it had only used a fraction of how many there were—and a fraction of their total length. As horrific as it was to finally see the face of your aggressor in the flesh, it only got worse as your eyes trailed down the creature’s body. There were protuberances dotting along the length, that, looking closely, looked like human arms and legs… The creature had craters of it’s flesh destroyed, no doubt the work of the multiple warheads it had taken to kill it. Its blood, if it truly had any of its own, mixed with the blood from the ocean dripping off its body, making it hard to tell where, if, its blood ended, and the ocean’s began.

”What the fuck…” Ianthe breathed. It was hard to say anything. You’d only seen that thing using x-rays, and as horrific as it had looked on that preview screen, nothing could compare it to seeing it in the flesh. No wonder David had been so insistent in you coming down here... Ianthe reached for her comms unit. “David.”

In the quiet of the room, the stillness of the pressure versus void tension, you could barely hear his voice return over the comms unit in her ear; “I read you.”

“What the fuck.” It was strange to hear Ianthe swear, let alone with such emphasis behind it.

There was a pause, then laughter as he must have realized who was talking and why the reaction. The intercom in the observation dock crackled on. “I told you that was something you’d need to see for yourself.”

Kerry stepped over to activate the room’s side of the intercom. “How the fuck do you sound so nonchalant about this.”

“I watched it be pulled up, in all its gory glory. Wish you could have seen that, because half the deck hands lost their nerve and scattered upon seeing it. We had to run bioscans to make sure it was dead to get most of them to come back. I had to load up the x-rays of the fucker to compare out of morbid curiosity and, fuck. Simon how the hell did you not die of fear down there. That thing’s horrifying.”

You snorted. In honesty, you weren’t sure how you didn’t keel over from exhaustion just by being scared the entire time you’d known it was stalking you.

“Science is running samples as we speak. I’ll bring the results down when we have a better idea of what’s going on with it.”

“Take me back,” you said quietly. “Now I’m going to have more nightmares…”

The helm of the tow ship was a heavily fortified bunker lined with glass windows on the top level of the ship, offering a truly staggering view of the blood ocean and space beyond it. David had requested your presence be there when the vehicle transport arrived. Ianthe had assisted you into what seemed to be a standard issue COI jumpsuit since your clothing had been beyond trashed, and then accompanied you up to the helm. For the first time since being cut free of the rust bucket, you were sitting up in a real chair, which felt good, considering you didn’t have much of a choice in sitting and laying positions with the injuries you had.

You leaned over a war table, not unlike ones you were used to back home, but the COI had put a real projection unit in the center of this table. For an outpost? Fancy fuckers. David stood beside the table, messing with the projections. They cycled between statuses on the tow ship, and a countdown to the vehicle transport ship’s arrival. Cargo 2’s status claimed “Stable”, with a rapidly changing percentage between 98% and 99.3%—you could only imagine that was monitoring the CO2 holding the monster’s corpse at a steady temperature. Cargo 4’s status also claimed “Stable”, but it also displayed “Airlocks Engaged” in red beside it, with the percentage holding at 99.98%—there must’ve been a minuscule leak somewhere that one of the crew wasn't able to patch up from the monster’s attack on the ship.

A tablet in front of you that David had let you see, had files open that detailed Science’s findings on the monster carcass. This document was easy enough for you to parse, as it was mostly scientific jargon and not as many graphs or charts; genetic sampling returned the monster’s DNA as that of someone named Elle, a scientist that had been present on the SM-8, but only about 70% of it was a perfect match. Another 28% matched the ocean’s blood itself, lending stark evidence toward your theory that the monster was one of the researchers—the last 2% of it was coming back as other COI members’ DNA, but there was a notation mentioning that this most minuscule of a result was also likely a rounding error, a horrifying but still important distinction.

The countdown ticked to 00:15:45, then 00:15:44, then 00:15:43, before it changed again to cycle through statuses. In the distance, an enormous space ship grew imperceptibly closer, a hangar opening on the belly of the ship as a set of docking arms peeked through and moved down, slowly, into a ready position.

“I wanted you to be able to see the docking procedure; wasn’t sure if you’d ever gotten to experience anything like it, and I’ve got some information I need to share with you before we join up with the transport team,” David broke the silence, still messing with the projection table.

You shook your head, “No, nothing to this scale… It’s just gonna, reach down to pick up the whole ship?”

“Yep. Trust me, though, this is the fun part; getting set down on the surface of the ocean is the shitty part,” he said with mirth in his tone. “So. As for what’s going to happen when we’re fully docked; I need to bring you with me to meet the council—well. One of them.”

“Why?” you turned your attention to him from watching the incoming vehicle transport ship.

“Gotta process your Realization officially with the council, then you never have to see my ugly mug again. Well, unless they decide to assign you to me, which I better fucking hope not. For your sake. They might though, being our new expert on this forsaken hellhole, and depending on what and how much info we got off that black box, at least I might be coming back.”

Your jaw set, brow furrowed. Get sent back with another convict for Realization execution, he meant. He caught the look on your face, seemingly able to catch what you were thinking. “Hopefully not though. Fingers crossed everything comps pulled off that black box is enough to scare the council off any ideas of coming back.”

You looked back and stared out the window, watching the vehicle transport, not trusting yourself not to say something stupid if you opened your mouth.

00:12:32. 00:12:31. 00:12:30. The vehicle transport’s docking arms spread into a catching motion as the ship got close.

David was quiet for a bit, before awkwardly continuing what he was trying to say. “Once you’re processed, it’s likely that they’re going to have you staying in medical on the VTS until we get to Derin, considering you’ve been eating us out of pain meds for almost two weeks,” he said with an obviously joking tone. “I don’t know beyond that what you’re up against… It’ll be a few days of FTLT until we get to Derin. ..I made sure to tell the stocking team to pack anti-psychotics for you, hopefully that’ll help with some of the hallucinations.”

“How much of my record is publicly known?” you couldn’t help but ask.

The question took David off guard. He turned away from the war table to pick up a nearby tablet, and flipped through it. “It looks like only the council and those immediately involved in your Realization handling can see the whole file. You’ll have a marker declaring Realization Completed on it, that anyone who has access to the file can see, but the exact offenses, no, those are confidential.”

“And… is it just, mass murderers like myself, who get Realization?” You ignored a couple nearby crew members who threw you glances. You had to know what you were up against.

David snorted. “No. You’ll effectively be anonymised. I realize that… what you did here was extraordinary, and it’s out of line from what most Realization Candidates go through,” his voice was careful, cognizant of the weight of the situation.

You sighed. “Weighted befitting someone like me, I guess.”

00:09:23. 00:09:22. 00:09:21.

He was quiet, studying you. “I’m probably the last person you want to be asked this by, but… What happened? ..Y’know.”

At least he saved you from hearing that cursed name again. You continued to stare out at the transport ship, though it wasn’t in focus as you dredged up memories of what happened. “My Brothers betrayed me,” you said quietly. “It was supposed to be deathless, just a distraction and a grab ‘n go. They set charges in the station’s main vents, when they were planned for locations that wouldn’t do much damage—just a distraction. I did my job. I pulled the trigger. I was responsible, but that wasn’t supposed to happen…”

David watched you relive the betrayal quietly.

00:06:54. 00:06:53. 00:06:52. The transport was more than twice the size it was when you began watching, and yet it hardly seemed like it was moving.

A voice came over the intercom: “All personnel, prepare for docking in T-minus 7 minutes.”

Beeps and computer groans and the sound of typing was the only thing that pierced the silence.

“ You’re as much a scapegoat, as a victim, as responsible. Fuck,” he said eventually, pensively.

You nodded absentmindedly.

00:03:25. 00:03:24. 00:03:23. The docking arms of the transport were terrifyingly close, looking to be shaped like claws meant to grasp onto tethers you couldn’t see even from the bird’s eye view of the helm.

“Do you still have my file open?”

“Yeah?”

“Is my… is my name on it?”

David pulled the tablet in front of his face to look it over. “…No. Just an inmate number. Let’s see if I can't fix that on my end…”

00:01:34. 00:01:33. 00:01:32. The transport had stopped like an enormous shadow over the tow ship, and the docking arms were reaching slowly for the ship.

”All personnel, prepare for docking in T-minus 1 minute, thirty-seconds.”

“No, I don’t have clearance to change your info. We’ll talk to the council about that during the officiation,” David said, sounding a bit frustrated on your behalf. “No fucking wonder we didn’t have your name. Fuckers didn’t even bother to put it in your file.”

As the timer ticked down, the docking arms moved into position, as slow as waiting for a star’s light to disappear. As the timer ticked to 00:00:00, there was a notable chunk against the tow ship’s hull, then a light jostle as the docking arms hooked solidly onto the tethers, and a slow but steady rising motion started as it began to lift the ship out of the ocean and into the hangar above.

David was right, this was cool as fuck. You could see hazard lights rotating far up in the transport’s hangar, and the blood ocean began to get smaller and smaller as you and the ship was lifted up and away from it. Raising up into the hangar, you could see docking crew watching the ship’s progress from walkways. As the ship came to a halt fully within the transport’s hangar with a slight jostle at the locking of the docking arms, the light incoming from the hangar doors slowly disappeared as the hatch closed and the airlock audibly reengaged with the telltale hiss of the hangar repressurizing. Catwalks extended out from the permanent walkways that lined the hangar, locking into place against the hull of the towship with a chunk and a hiss.

One of the navigation crew moved to a door you didn’t even realize existed on the side of the cabin, and mechanically unlocked it, breaking airlock; opening it, they waved to a crew member on the hangar dock, then ducked back into the cabin to begin collecting items. David moved away to gather up several different tablets strewn about the cabin as well. Watching the door, you caught movement across the new catwalk coming toward the ship, but in the low light it was difficult to tell what it was; as it got closer, you realized it was a crew member pushing a wheelchair. Oh thank fuck they weren’t going to make you walk.

The crew member wheeled the chair into the cabin, and easily deduced you were the right person for it, bringing it straight over to you, positioning it just so that it would be easy for you to transfer between where you sat and it. Ze moved to stand beside it, into a position that indicated ze was ready to assist you, and addressed you; “My name is Tanner, and I’m going to be your primary medic for this trip. Please let me know how best I may assist you.”

“Uh, it’s, going to hurt, but I should be able to do this much by myself,” you mumbled, a bit off-put by how forward and overbearing hir words were. Sure, you hurt, but the COI folks seemed to be too eager to help you, it was weird. Were they all going to be like this?

Ze nodded and gave you clearance to attempt to stand, which you managed with a pained hiss. Hir hands were gentle as ze guided you to sit in the wheel chair maybe you did need more help than you thought. You caught your breath as you sank into the chair, feeling a bit embarrassed at the extent of your weakened state.

Tanner moved to stand behind your chair, watching David for his signal that he was ready to head out. The cabin was a flurry of activity, you noticed now that you were settled, with the navigation crew gathering crates of tablets and hard drives, and David sticking tablet after tablet into a backpack. He finally picked up his over-sized one and tucked it securely under his arm, and turned to you and your escort.

“Ready to head up,” he said, gesturing with a nod of his head toward the door, then headed for it.

Tanner moved to roll you in tandem, following after David with a healthy distance, but not too far from him. The hangar echoed with activity, voices calling between both the tow ship and the transport as the crews worked together to offload the expedition’s gear. It was far more activity than you were used to, as even when you’d gotten to see a ship docking at Eden, there wasn’t this many hands helping. It was like they were hurried, but thinking about it, it seemed more like they were a well-oiled machine, practiced at this...

Glancing back at the helm’s cabin as ze wheeled you along the walkway, your blood ran cold—that toothy monster stood in the windows of the cabin, watching you as it got smaller and smaller with distance.

Your breath must have audibly hitched, because Tanner spoke up; “Ianthe made a specific note in your file that you’ve been experiencing hallucinations as a result of your trauma, and I saw David had requested psychiatric medications for you. Those will be included in your first dose of medications with us, when your next round is due.”

You turned to keep your eyes on David’s perpetually retreating back. “Did she mention how bad it is?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“She noted that you have needed physical intervention to calm you from the incidents, and that you have been having night terrors. All very understandable for what you’ve been through, and our personnel have all been made aware of the assistance you require.”

Hir stiff tone and carefully selected words made the memories of some of Eden’s most militant members feel warm and fuzzy. “..Did she note what the hallucinations are?”

“Moving shadows, and a bipedal, tooth-riddled monster that has been menacing you.”

You nodded. Something about the medics knowing what was plaguing you helped make it feel less real, as although they couldn’t see it, their acknowledgment of it and subsequent lack of reaction to it reinforced it wasn’t real.

David led you and Tanner down a winding track of corridors and elevators through the belly of the transport, often aided by lifting his over-sized tablet up to see a map of the transport’s innards. The ship was huge, likely originally built to hold several hundred, if not a thousand crew members in it’s hey-day. Yet, once you’d left the vehicle hangar, you didn’t see another soul until David stopped at what looked to once have been a grand conference room.

It had been converted into an office, lined with screens displaying nothing at the moment, with a surprisingly well-kept wooden desk dominating the back of the room. There seemed to be enough space between the desk and the door for a whole ship’s crew to gather for orders at once time. Someone with as stiff and commanding of a presence as Ava had sat behind the desk, and looked up when the three of you entered the room. Vir clothing seemed immaculate; given fabric being so difficult to come by, it displayed vie held a great level of power. Vie gestured to David to sit in a chair opposite vir across the desk, and Tanner rolled you up to be able to sit at it, before taking leave and closing the office’s doors behind hir.

“Joseph,” vie introduced virself, offering a hand to David to shake, “David,” who took vir hand, then to you. You reached to politely take vir hand, and vie gave you a strong yet delicate grip before letting go. Vie looked at the computer on the desk beside vir, and furrowed a brow for a second, then looked back to you. “I’m afraid I don’t have a name for you. Quite unprofessional of me, as this is no place for me to use anything on your file as a name. We’ll fix that; what might I have the pleasure of calling you?”

The way vie studied you was intimidating and made you feel small, regardless of the professional warmth in vir tone. “Simon,” you gathered your strongest voice to respond with.

Vie nodded and turned to the computer beside vir. With a few taps, vie typed in five letters, then hit enter. “There. Now, on to business. David, if you could transfer me your resolution report.”

David pulled up his over-sized tablet and began messing around on it. As they began discussing things that didn’t have any context to you, the shadows began to move behind Joseph.

Not now. Please not now. You squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep breath.

You felt a hand on your right shoulder. “Hey. You’re with me,” came David’s voice. His hand left too quickly for you to use it to focus on what was real, so you tried to focus instead on the pain in your legs, where the graft donation sites were. Those weren’t there in the sub. That pain is what’s real.

“What’s wrong?” came Joseph’s voice from the darkness.

“He’s been having hallucinations since we retrieved him. Standard trauma reactions, the medics tell me.”

“My condolences, Simon.”

You could only nod, keeping your eyes closed, trying to shove down the anger that bubbled up at the thought that this person before you was part of the system in place that allowed this to happen to you, enabled the system to do things like this to other people too. At least that was helping keep you grounded in reality.

“Be quiet, Simon. It’s almost over,” came that gentle voice again. “Then you’re free.” Who was that? It was the only auditory hallucination you were having and she sounded so familiar… It was calming enough to keep you from saying something stupid, though.

You listened for a long while as Joseph and David conversed about processing your officiation. Slowly, your perception of the pain in your body increased, and everything began to hurt at once. The fucking pain meds were wearing off.

“Alright, Simon,” eventually, Joseph said, prompting you to open your eyes to look at vir. Your face must have been betraying the amount of pain you were in, as vie gave you an apologetic look and continued, “I won’t keep you long, you look like you need to go rest. Your officiation is completed; welcome, officially, to the Consolidation of Iron. I’ll come down to medical after you’ve had some rest to go over what your next steps are. Tanner?” vie called toward the door.

You nodded, and reflexively muttered a “thank you.”

As the door opened and Tanner moved into the room, David addressed you; “I have a lot of reporting to do with Joseph, so I won’t be accompanying you. This might even be the last you see of my ugly mug; enjoy your rest.” You could tell that he had more he wanted to say, but wasn’t sure how much he wanted to say in front of his boss.

Joseph gave you a polite wave as Tanner moved to roll you back out of the room. You closed your eyes to allow yourself to focus on the sensation of rolling, rather than the pain.

“In need of a new round of pain medication?” Tanner’s voice came from the darkness behind you.

You could only nod.

You didn’t register what hir response was, as you caught Joseph addressing David, possibly having thought you were out of earshot: “Polite one, for an Edenite. Especially given the circumstances, and the offenses.”

“We noticed that too,” David responded, but whatever he continued with was too distant to make out. Hopefully he’ll fit in, you thought he said.

Something garbled akin to I hope so too, jumbled down the hall in response.

The med bay on the transport was more the size of a medical wing. It was enormous, and you weren’t sure how the medics kept it orderly with everything so spread out.

You got a whole room to yourself, obviously a remnant of from when this ship was created—no ships cobbled together within the last 20 years had anything like this, and it was a bit claustrophobic. Medics were constantly bringing in supply refreshments, which seemed like a workflow issue, but based on the ship’s design, also seemed necessary.

The privacy was nice, though. No cameras to be seen, and the medics tended to keep your door only slightly ajar so they could hear if you needed assistance, which definitely eased your anxiety and gave you an angle of rest that you didn’t realize you needed. So many years under constant threat of scrutiny was a heavy weight on your shoulders, that you finally got to relax. Especially as your bed was comfortable. Definitely a remnant from before the Quiet Rapture, it had to have been installed here when the ship was built, and just never reallocated as it was a useful asset where it already was.

The meds were lovely. The nerve block for your left arm lasted longer, as did the general pain meds, but these also killed even more pain than the ones that had been on the tow ship. A couple times, a medic had stopped by to do physical therapy with you, and the meds worked so well, the medic had complemented how much better you were doing than they expected. The anti-psychotics finally let you sleep. Your sleep was actually restful, and over a few bouts of sleep, only once did a medic have to rush in to wake you from a nightmare. Better yet, the toothy monster had yet to reappear to menace you, and general shadows stayed still.

It was boring, too, though. Being disabled as you were, the medics made it very clear you were not to do physical activity without their presence. You’d passed the time in the COI’s prison by keeping yourself fit, and without being able to keep up with that regiment, your body screamed for activity. Your brain too, as your wakeful hours were lucid—as lucid as one with major concussions and possibly brain damage from said concussions could be. With the pain dulled, and the anti-psychotics working their magic, you had a lot of time to think, as long as your brain didn’t start to hurt. You tried very hard not to think about what had happened—but there just wasn’t much to think about elsewise, especially as it was such a fresh trauma, it kept trying to weasel it’s way into your consciousness. You certainly wondered about what was to come, and often drifted back to your conversation with Kerry about life in the COI.

Time was as much an enigma in the transport’s medical wing as it was on the tow ship. Any metric you’d gotten for the passage of time on the tow ship was ruined here, between the meds, the personnel presence, and the privacy. David had said the trip would be a few days, and you hadn’t heard yet from Joseph, so the ship had to still be en route.

You were finally brought relief from the boredom and time vortex when, during a wakeful moment, you heard Tanner and Joseph speaking from down the hall. Their words became comprehensible mid-conversation.

“Our priorities have been pain and psychosis management, and assessment to make sure that he is stable enough to have such a test done,” Tanner’s stiff tone floated down the hall.

“For his continued improvement, even I can see that that test should be your next priority. If he’s been in as stable a condition as you have said, then it needs to be done,” Joseph replied, vir tone professional, but with that air of authority that made it clear the authority figure was not going to take no for an answer.

“Of course, magister. I’ll see to it as soon as you’re done speaking with him. I simply was forewarning you of the limitations you may come across.”

Test? What the hell were they planning on doing to you?

Their voices stopped, though a set of footsteps continued down the hall toward your room. You watched the door, certain vie were coming to see you as vie had mentioned. Sure enough, a polite knock of warning rapped at the door before it opened to allow Joseph to step in.

“Simon,” vie greeted you with a professional smile. “Good to see that you’re looking much better than when we last spoke.” Vie were a large person, larger than any of your Brothers, as wide as vie were tall. You didn’t think humans could be that shape. Vie shut the door mostly behind vir, then moved to stand beside you, holding a satchel tucked under vir arm.

You returned vir polite smile. “Glad to be feeling better.”

“Good to hear. You have my heartfelt apology, on behalf of all the council of the Consolidation, for the heinous things we put you through. I’m acutely aware that without your sacrifice, we would be leaving AT-5 empty-handed, and minus two members.”Two? Members? Ava, and… You? Had the welder made it? “I can only hope that we can give you a new home that does not force your hand into performing tragedies similar to those you’d enacted prior to us acquiring you.”

You felt your face fall, and vir reaction said your expression had turned to fear.

“Your slate has been wiped clean,” vie said gently. “While there may be individuals within the council that may continue to hold personal issue with you for your actions, that you passed your Realization is, in theory, enough to stay their hand in passing any further judgment on you. And, if that does ever become a problem, you need only tell me.”

Question replaced fear on your face.

“Every Realized Consolidation member has a liaison they can come to for assistance in keeping their record clean or advice for integrating, even beyond our standard integration classes. I’m your liaison; make no mistake, you are a free man from this point forward, but I will always be here as a resource to ease your transition into our society. I am also the person you will report to if issues arise, bypassing the usual interactions with security forces.”

You nodded quietly, digesting that.

Vie moved to take the satchel out from under vir arm, and placed it on the bed beside you. From within the satchel, vie produced a small machine that looked like a tablet and handed it to you. “First and foremost, this is your PII, your Personal Intranet Interface. This is yours to keep, but also yours to be responsible for. You will get a more thorough rundown of it’s functions in integration class, but as a general introduction, this will be your partner in life with us. You will need to have this on you at all times as this is your personal identification, your key to interacting with Consolidation computers, a communication tool, as well as an information hub for you to access all the knowledge the Consolidation has to offer. More importantly at this time, it will also function as a bridge between yourself and your medic team. Your PII has been preloaded with your biometrics to restrict access to it’s functions to only to you and the council—only should need ever arise, of course—but also to gauge diagnostics. You can take measurements with and input data for your medic team through this and communicate any of your medical needs easily.” As vie spoke, vie showed you how to unlock it, and how to navigate it by using examples as vie mentioned them. It seemed simple enough.

“Speaking of your medical team; medical is going to run a few function tests for you while we are still en route to Derin Station. This will serve as a preview of how independent you are currently with the extent of your injuries. Depending on how much assistance you need, you may need to stay with the station’s medical center for a while. I understand that the medics have not yet tested you for the severity of your concussions, just suspect that you have one or more. I would like to give you more information about what to expect when we arrive on Derin, but I need you to tell me if I’m giving you too much information at once for the state of your head.”

Oh. That’s what test they were talking about. You nodded.

Vie gave you a smile. “I can always stop and come back another time.”

“How long have we been traveling?” you asked before vie could leap back into vir schpeal.

Vie paused and took a similar device to the one vie handed you out of vir breast pocket and studied the screen. “About 49 hours. We have 37 hours left before we arrive at Derin.”

You realized you had no idea if EIC and IMC hours were the same amount of time. Not that you’d be able to tell how much time is passing... Oh wait. You turned the device you were handed around in your hand, trying to make heads or tails of it before the screen flashed on to greet you. The programs were helpfully labeled and you found the clock. Watching it, it seemed to tick at the same rate you were used to.

“Clever one, you are,” Joseph praised. “You’re not the first Edenite that I’ve had the pleasure of handling, but you are by far the quickest, concussion be damned.”

You gave vir a look—you weren’t real sure what your face said, though.

“I mean that in the most sincere way possible,” vie said gently. “The other Edenites I’ve handed a PII to looked at it like computers were alien to them. ...It’s a bit unprofessional of me, but, may I ask; how much exposure do the folks of Eden have to computers?”

“It… depends on what position they are in the hierarchy. A day laborer may never see one. Or might have interactions with ones that are integrated into the station,” you trailed off, thinking. “The Edenites that are most likely to have been captured by the COI probably were like me… Brothers.” You shook your head. “We all know and use tablets on the daily though. That’s pretty much what this is, isn’t it?”

Vie nodded and gave a contemplative sound. “If I may be so bold—you are also the most tempered Edenite I’ve had the pleasure of handling, so my intrigue is piqued. You mentioned Brothers, and I’ve heard others mention that word in similar context. May I ask what you mean by that?”

You watched vir face carefully, but found nothing but sincerity on it. Guarded, yet nothing to lose, you replied; “Sons of Eden, Sons of The Father.” Your shoulders fell as it finally clicked in your head that there was no going back. You weren’t a Son of Eden anymore. Joseph was patient as it seemed obvious that you were working through something. “We—They’re… Eden’s special forces. Para-militia, at beck and call of Father to do His bidding. We’re—They’re the ones that plan skirmishes with the COI.” Why are you telling one of the leadership of the COI this? “Enforce order on Eden. Patrol and guard Eden’s perimeter.”

Joseph’s face was hard to read at hearing that. “Thank you for your information.”

You just became a snitch. If you weren’t so sure that your Brothers had already wanted you dead, considering their actions at Filament Station, you’d be more worried about what’d happen if one caught wind of you.

“I see now how you were in position to be responsible for Filament Station.”

You winced at the name.

“David told me.”

You looked to vir face. It was professional, but conflicted.

“As I said previously, your slate has been wiped clean, as far as the council is concerned,” vie nodded. “Let’s look instead to your future, hm?”

You swallowed hard. “What good is a one-armed mass-murderer, to the COI?”

“That’s for you to decide, hm?” Vir face was sincere. “Once you are cleared by medical as healed enough to be independent, and once your integration classes have been completed, we’ll talk about that in more depth, as you’ll report to me for your capabilities questionnaire. So far as I can tell, you’re a sharp, upstanding young man who only got into trouble because of the circumstances he was stuck in. I have every confidence that you’ll be a fine addition to any team.”

Obviously vie had never heard your moniker. Perhaps that hadn’t made it here… Was it hallucinations that made you think the COI knew What you were? “And what of the black box information? Of… the expedition you sent me on?” You couldn’t tell if you wanted to be invested in that mess any more, but it felt like unfinished business, and you felt compelled to ask.

Joseph’s face did something you couldn’t quite tell what it meant. There was an obvious “that’s above your paygrade” reaction that folks in leadership tended to make when folks punched above their class, but also a deep understanding that if anyone was entitled to that information, it was you. “I have not taken it off the table to simply ask you to be our liaison to the situation with AT-5. However, I am also quite aware of the damage that that matter has already inflicted upon you, and that is why I have continued to handle your case as though you were any other Realization Completionist. If you so see fit, you have both options open to you, though your capability questionnaire and the future state of your psyche may force me to say you are not able to proceed with that option. Regardless, we of course will be asking for a full report of what happened on AT-5 from you, when you are capable. I understand I’ve danced around that reality, but my job is to move Realization Completionists forward, not dwell on their pasts. Yours is a fringe case, my friend.”

You nodded.

“But. That is quite far in the future, for your condition. Pardon for jumping around in the timeline quite a bit, but you’re an astute one—most Edenites hardly give me a grunt in response to my speaking with them—and your case is unique; you got me off track. Getting back on track; depending on how much assistance you require, if you are deemed independent enough to not need to stay with the station’s medical center, or once you are deemed so after a stay, you will be granted access to your own quarters on Derin station. It will be your own space to retreat to and will also be your responsibility to care for. Once we know more, I’ll work with you to schedule your integration classes; your first one will introduce you to the intricacies of your PII as well as station expectations and etiquette, and you’ll be expected to attend at least three subsequent classes within the week of the first. These will cover similar but expanded topics on life with the Consolidation. It will be after these classes that I will expect to see you for your capabilities questionnaire. This is a survey of the skills you are bringing to the Consolidation, as well as your physical and mental capabilities to hold certain positions in which you would otherwise be skilled enough to do. Obviously, due to the nature of your current status, this will not be the only capability questionnaire I’ll have you do; even once you have been deemed independent by the medical center, you’ll still be in a state of partial healing, so any questionnaire I have you do at that point is not representative of your full capabilities. I want an overview of you, your personality, and your abilities before you’re fully healed so that I may better tailor positioning your skillset to our teams. Have I lost you at all?”

You switched to shaking your head after nodding along, keeping up with all the information just fine. “David mentioned an apartment. Is that what you mean by quarters?”

Vie nodded. “Are you familiar with the term?”

“I, am, in general, but. A whole apartment. For just me?”

“The stations within the Consolidation have plenty of empty apartments, considering the difficulty of living the way we do,” vie said matter-of-factly. “It’d be odd to expect you to share with others.” There seemed to be an undertone in vir voice that hinted at the fact that, somewhat recently, 62 occupants of Consolidation living quarters had vacated them permanently, but vie were polite enough to not say it aloud.

You nodded quietly.

“As well, you will never truly be alone, if that is your concern. You will have your privacy of course, but station security, medical, or a council representative will always be available to message on your PII. As well, depending on your skill set and the work you best fit into, you may also be taken on extended trips away from the station with a team that you work alongside.”

“What about clothing…? And, I was told that food is handled by me?”

Joseph nodded. “For now, we will provide you with standardized Consolidation jumpsuits; there will be opportunities for you to acquire your own chosen clothing in the future. As for food, you’re correct. On station, you will have free range to several options in food acquisition, but you will be expected to use your PII to track what exactly your caloric intake is. We tend to trust our members to not falsify their inputs, or take more than their body needs; one of the tests that medical will run for you is to calculate what macronutrients your body needs, and you will be expected to keep within a certain threshold of that target. I will have medical teach you how to do this shortly, as now that you have your PII, I’ll have you begin tracking your own medication intake as it will be good practice for whilst you’re on station. Whilst any Consolidation member is on a transit ship or outpost, caloric intake is typically tracked by the captain or quartermaster in the form of rations, or medical in the case of medication. In your case, whilst you are on station, and are independent but still seeing the medical center for ongoing treatment, you will be expected to track your medication intake as well.”

You nodded, head swirling with the idea that there were choices you could make.

Vie patted the satchel that vie had brought your PII in. “This is yours to keep. Inside is a second jumpsuit for you, and some personal effects to get you started. I’m sure from your time with the correctional facilities you’re familiar with our laundering schedule?” Vie let you reply with a nod before continuing. “It will be similar anywhere you go within the Consolidation; station, outpost, transit, they will all function the same.”

You moved to take up the satchel to look inside. Your movements were slow, though, as were your thoughts; you did just receive a lot of information, and though your head was pretty clear thanks to the meds, it was beginning to hurt at the sheer amount you were thinking about. Just as Joseph said, there was another jumpsuit, along with two pairs of socks, a clean but worn and patched pair of boots, a hair brush, mouth care kit, and a straight razor… The prison hadn’t let you have one of those, probably because they thought you, being from Eden, were suicidal. When was the last time you shaved? You looked up to vir, surprise obvious on your face. “Thank you, magister. For.. this, and all your information.”

Vie seemed to catch on that you were slowing down. “You’re most welcome; you are a most pleasant person to speak with. I look forward to working with you. That is the majority of the information that I have for you at this moment, so I’ll let you rest, or at least not need to process new information for a while—I have a feeling Tanner is going to want to get you in for some tests; those you don’t need to pay attention to. If you have any questions, you can always message me; my contact information has already been preloaded into your PII. If you do not get into contact with me prior to docking at Derin Station, we’ll go over medical’s findings and where to go from there just prior to docking.”

You nodded at that, and Joseph moved to step toward the door. Vie opened it, but stopped before stepping through the threshold. “One last question.. If you are so willing to entertain me,” vie asked, turning back to look to you.

You gave vir a curious look.

“Is it true,” vie paused for a half a moment, seemingly unsure that vie should be asking this, “that Eden has a suicide cult?”

“Yes,” you said matter-of-factly.

Vie chewed on that thought for a second. “You could have given up at any point, gone the way of Eden’s faithful, during your Realization. And yet, here you sit before me, beyond battered, but wholly alive, pleased even with that fact, despite the state you’re in, despite your life being turned upside down. You don’t seem to ascribe to Eden’s beliefs, do you?”

A thousand memories of Eden, both good and bad, tried to flood your mind at that question. Clearing them all away, the answer was simple: “No.”

Vie gave you a good-hearted nod. “What say you to being our consultant for Edenian matters?”

You had a feeling that was going to come up at some point. “I’m not a politician, magister. But I can provide some context, maybe.”

“I’m sure you’ve noticed we’re in the dark about what happens on Eden, just as you’re unaware of the culture in the Consolidation. Any context can help. Consider it, I don’t need an answer right now,” vie gave you a polite wave before excusing virself, shutting the door mostly behind vir.

“You are a most pleasant person to speak with,” vir words stuck in your head as you absentmindedly dug through the contents of the satchel. You. Pleasant? From someone in the COI leadership? It was true, you’d been trying to change your ways with the downtime you had in the COI’s prison, to be better than the COI thought of Edenites, forcing yourself to give “please”s and “thank you”s and “sorry”s to even folks who outright disrespected you; at least that seemed to have stuck enough that someone noticed. Without your back against a wall, cornered, or in a cage, it was easier to do; it felt good even. You were so tired of the violence, tired of all the death that came with living on Eden… “You’ve lost your nerve, Butcher.” You winced at the title. Tired of Eden… This wasn't what you’d had in mind to get out of the life you’d become disillusioned with, but going over everything Joseph had said made it sound like a pretty damn promising new beginning.

You took the straight razor into your hand and flipped it open to inspect, your brain mostly preoccupied with thoughts, and your hand simply needed something to do so you could focus better. It was old, but kept in good condition, and it was sharp. Flipping it shut, you noted that the hinge was a bit stiff, but what wasn't these days.

Wait a second. You looked down at yourself, trying to turn your hands to look at both palm and back, then sighed heavily at not seeing your left hand in your vision. You can't even use that straight razor to shave with. Shaving with one requires twohands… “ Of all the fucking thoughtless things…” you grumbled, tossed the razor back into the satchel, then grabbed the whole thing and dumped it on the side table to your right

You scrubbed the unbandaged half of your face with your hand tiredly. A knock came at the door, and you let your hand fall loosely into your lap. Tanner peeked hir head into the room, and seeing you were still sitting up, entered fully.

Ze must have noted how tired you looked before speaking; “I have several noninvasive, nonattentive tests that we need to perform with you. Are you up to it at the moment?”

“Like..?” you grumbled, trying very hard not to let your irritation at the razor slip into your voice.

“We have two scans and a blood test lined up. If you fall asleep during said tests, it would affect nothing, but it is your decision.”

You nodded and flipped your hand up in a sign of “let’s do it.” Tanner nodded in return and stepped out of the room to fetch a wheel chair.

“Wait,” you stopped hir, “is it far?”

Ze looked you up and down, calculating hir answer. “It is not, but you have been bedbound for quite a while.”

“All the better to get me up and moving then, huh,” you replied, moving to get up. Your shifting brought attention to the PII still in your lap. Oh shit, right. That thing existed. You picked it up and the screen lit up in greeting. “Uh, Joseph said something about you teaching me how to use this thing, for, med tracking,” you asked toward Tanner, uncertain.

“I can do that, of course. Let us go over that the next time you have medication dispensed,” ze declared.

“ Sure.” Thinking about it for a moment, how Joseph had said to keep it on you at all times, you hesitated, “do I need it now?”

“No; in fact it will mess with the scan to determine how badly your brain may have been damaged in your trauma,” ze said flatly.

You nodded, then moved to stash it in the satchel.

Tanner moved to stand beside the bed, hands at the ready to assist you since you seemed determined to try walking on your own. You swung your legs down over the side of the bed, and moved to stand, everything stiff—you’d take stiff over painful any day, though. Straightening yourself, Tanner made a “calm down” motion with hir hands and you felt your face give hir a look.

“Your grafts are still at a delicate stage of their healing. It must be very difficult not to stretch, but for your safety and continued healing, do not,” ze said.

Well now you felt like doing so. Not even to be contrary, but being reminded of how good a stretch felt made your body yearn for one. You grumbled, but fought off the urge.

The pain meds were working wonders, as you took a steadying breath, then stepped toward Tanner without any pain. Stiffness, of course, but for once, without pain. “Whatever med cocktail you have me on is working great, doc,” you said, testing your legs and stepping carefully, slowly, but with increased speed with each step, testing your limits.

Tanner stayed right near by, stepping backward to keep stride with you, on high alert for any sudden weakness ze could assist you with. “That is very good to hear. We haven’t changed it much at all since you arrived, so that also means you are healing fantastically. Hopefully soon that means that you won't require the nerve block.”

That thought scared you. Of all the improvement you’d been having, that arm remnant just was not cooperating. “Hopefully,” you replied, letting Tanner lead you slowly, but steadily, to where ze intended to take you.

As thankfully rare as your nightmares had become with the anti-psychotics, they still plagued you. This one started familiarly—freeing yourself from the crawlspace in the sub as it filled with blood, coughing blood out of your lungs while gasping for air, the black box sitting mocking your fate on the floor. You knew you were dreaming—that was the worst part. As you reached to clip the life preserver and your hood harness onto the black box, you repeated your actions ad nauseam in fear that if you didn’t, the extremely unlikely unfolding of events that let you live would never happen. Even though it was a dream, you were afraid that you’d never actually wake up, and that you’d lived was actually the dream.

Then the dream changed. The proximity alert clicked, then faster, just as before, and you struggled to get your hood harness clipped, but the proximity alert began to click faster, then extremely fast. That was new. When you got the harness clipped and looked up toward the control panel, the proximity alert continued its extremely fast clicking, and instead of the fish bumping the sub, in front of you stood the toothy monster. It took a menacing step toward you, and you slid in the blood trying to step back, getting your left arm stuck to it’s final resting place.

Menaced by the new threat, you tried to remove your arm from the pipe where it was lashed, but it didn’t give, allowing the monster to close the distance between you. It reached for you with it’s arm and—

You woke with a gasp, though it didn’t get you much breath. Eyes open in panic from the nightmarish awakening, you registered the cabin in the vehicle transport’s medical wing that you remembered returning to after the medics’ tests, but hovering over you was the toothy monster. It had it’s grotesque, tumor-riddled hand grasping your throat—the first time the monster had gotten it’s hands—wait, hand on you.

It only had one hand. It was missing it’s left arm.

You tried to scream, but it pressed its hand into your throat with all it’s weight. You tried grasping at it’s arm to try and pry it off of you, only for yours to pass right through it as if it weren’t there, or you were insubstantial.

The monster dipped it’s disgusting face closer to yours, it’s jaw distorted and wrenched open at an odd angle, larger than any human’s, with teeth like the fish monster’s growing out of it’s split left cheek and smaller ones in where normal teeth would be. The intense iron smell of blood wafted off the creature at such a force that even without being able to breathe, you could register it’s stench. As it got closer, your eyes drew downward toward the tumor-riddled missing left arm, but caught on the monster’s neck.

It had your Eden tattoo, distorted by tumorous growths but still unmistakably distinguishable.

You got out a choked scream: “That thing is ME!?”

Your body screamed for air as you barely registered multiple sets of footsteps charging down the hall toward your room. The monster didn’t let up, nor looked up, when the door to your room was flung open, two medics, Tanner, and David? rushing into the room.

When Tanner dashed to your side and passed through the monster’s form, it disappeared as if it had never existed, allowing you to gasp desperately for air, this time, oxygen filling your lungs. You grasped at your sore neck, both protectively and inquisitively, trying to figure out how a fucking hallucination could choke you. Tanner was trying to get you to answer hir at what was wrong, but panic, adrenaline, and the basal need for air didn’t let you answer.

“When was his anti-psychotic refreshed last?” Tanner asked forcefully of one of the assistant medics.

You heard furious tapping on a tablet from the opposite side of you. “12 hours ago,” came the familiar voice of one of the medics.

“Refresh, now,” was all Tanner said. Ze looked back to you as footsteps retreated from the room. “Simon, what happened,” ze tried again to get an answer out of you.

“I—I, I—” You were stuck in a loop, terror replacing panic, and adrenaline running its course as your body was getting reaccustomed to having oxygen again.

“We’re getting you anti-psychotics as we speak,” hir normally harsh tone mellowed as ze could tell whatever you just experienced was beyond any other ze had seen you experience before. “Take your time.”

“I was—I was being choked by the fucking tooth monster,” you managed to croak.

Tanner’s brow furrowed. Ze gestured to where you still had your hand on your neck. “Please allow me to see.”

You began to cry. “That thing is ME,” you sobbed. “It’s got my tattoo. It’s missing it’s left arm.”

“What the fuck?” you heard David breathe.

Noting your distress and reluctance to follow hir request, Tanner gently took your hand and tried to remove it from your neck—you let hir.

“His neck is red,” ze said flatly, speaking to the other medic.

“Did he do it to himself?” the medic asked.

“No. If I hadn't seen him put his hand there when I stepped up to him, I would have suspected the same, but, he wasn't putting force upon his neck, simply covering it.”

“It hurts,” you sobbed. “How can a hallucination do that??” you wailed.

“Normally, they can't,” ze said, sounding troubled.

“What the fuck,” David repeated, louder this time.

Tanner put hir hand on your shoulder, allowing you your hand back. You covered your face with it, ugly crying with fear and relief that it was over.

“Simon, how many times since you started anti-psychotics have you seen the tooth monster?” Tanner asked gently.

“Just this once,” you gurgled from crying, then cleared your throat. “It—It st—It started in a nightmare. I was—back on the sub. I had these before. I do everything the same, scared if I don’t, I’ll actually die. But. It was there, instead of the fish. It—it almost killed me, for real, just like I’ve feared.”

The first medic returned with the familiar capsules they’d been giving you—the anti-psychotic medication—and a glass of water. Tanner patted your shoulder before removing hir hand and moving to a cabinet built into the wall of the cabin. Ze removed a washing cloth from it, and brought it over for you to clean your face.

You sat up, gratefully took it and tried to do so, trying to stop crying so you could take the meds. “What are you doing here,” you asked, far more accusingly than you meant, gesturing at David while trying to get yourself into a more stable state.

“I had some info to share with you, but Tanner stopped me because ze knew you were sleeping. I was hanging out, chatting when you had your episode; naturally, I came running too,” he replied. If he had taken offense at your tone, he didn’t show it. You realized he had his signature over-sized tablet under his arm; maybe he was telling the truth.

You blew your nose into the cloth, and cleared your throat of mucous. Letting the cloth drop onto your lap, you gestured to the medic with the meds to hand them over, more desperately than you intended or wanted to be read as, but the faster you had those meds, the less likely this was to happen again—at least, you hoped. The medic obliged and handed you first the capsule, then the glass after you’d popped the pill into your mouth. You chased it with big gulps from the glass. Holding the half emptied glass in your lap, you let your eyes close, and focused on your breath. “Thank you,” you breathed. “Fuck.” you spat, hoping no one in particular would take offense from it.

Two sets of footsteps exited the room from within the darkness—it sounded like the two aide medics. You could still feel Tanner at your side, trying to think of something to say.

“We, came to a conclusion after studying your brain scan,” ze said, breaking the silence.

“How fucked am I, doc?” you muttered.

“Could be much worse, to be quite honest. You have major concussions to several locations of your brain, but you are surprisingly functioning nearly fully versus what we would expect, based on what those locations are and for the apparent extent of damage. You’ll need a lot of rest to make sure you keep functioning at your current capacity, and that the damage doesn’t become permanent.”

You nodded quietly; thankfully resting wasn't hard to do considering that it was mostly what your body wanted to do already.

“There was… an oddity captured on the full body scan however,” Tanner continued. You opened your eyes to watch hir, not liking the sound of that. “David can likely tell you more, but, when cross-referencing the anomaly with logs from the black box, we believe the areas that you had to have excised due to the blood mutating your flesh, may have not have been fully excised enough.”

“Wh—what, so, I, need to go under the knife again?” you stammered, fearful, and not completely understanding what ze was trying to get at.

“We aren't sure yet. David, could you explain the exact nature of the blood?”

“Sure.” You looked to him, and he moved to adjust his stance before he spoke. “The researchers on the SM-8 found that the blood is indeed carcinogenic in nature, but weren’t able to figure out how it functions exactly. There were x-rays of one of the researchers who had begun mutating while they were stuck down there, and when we compared them to your mutations, they were similar. The report states that the blood mutates at an extremely rapid rate, before cutting itself off at random.”

“Our current theory is that your original surgical team was able to remove enough of the cancerous masses before it could replicate too far, then ceased mutating. What you have now, is benign, but may cause you pain for the rest of your life,” Tanner stated.

“We have record from the researcher who was mutating, stating that her skin turned into pure nerve endings,” David added ominously.

You looked between the two, horrified.

“Currently, we know that your grafts have taken well, and based on your reported pain, I’m hopeful that that is not going to happen to all of your affected areas. I am, however, concerned that the terminal end of your left arm may be the one location that remains affected, as normal pain medications do not seem to be assisting the pain,” Tanner explained.

You had to digest that for a moment. “So, what, I’ll be on nerve blockers for the rest of my life? That’s not sustainable—no amount of ‘you’re part of the COI now’ would ever allow that. Is that something that you think going back under the knife would help?”

Tanner shifted, thinking. “Another surgery attempt can be made, yes. Either to try and remove the mutated tissue, or to try and surgically cut the nerves to that arm so that the tissue cannot send back pain signals. But, that is unfortunately not something we can make plans to do here—we are too close to Derin Station, and soon you will be under the medical center’s care. I have made note of the issue in your file, but I can notate that if the arm does not improve, that we discussed these optional courses of action. Of course, the medical center may have other opinions or craft other plans of action once they see you.”

The thought of them choosing to do nothing, and forcing you to live with the pain, made the blood run out of your face. “I can't live like that, doc. The pain is too much.”

Ze seemed to figure out what exactly you were thinking. “I know, Simon. It’s not in the medical center’s work ethic to allow someone to live with raw, exposed nerves for the rest of their life. Something will be done to help, but what that is, I cannot say.”

You must have made a face that David interpreted as, “Even for a one-armed mass murderer?”, because he spoke up; “Yes, even for you. All your file says is Realization Completed. The medical staff have no idea what your offenses were, and only your most immediate medics, like Tanner, will even know what happened on AT-5. And even then, they’ll only know what’s most relevant to your issues. Really, Tanner only knows as much as ze do because I filled hir in on what was most relevant. We’re… kinda working on the fly, since your situation is cutting-edge discovery.”

Tanner had moved to tap around on a tablet that you didn’t see hir come in with—then again, you weren’t exactly paying attention to anything like that at that moment, either. “Your pain medication refresh will be up in an hour or so. I will let David speak to you privately, and when he is done I will return with your refresh and to teach you how to input your medication usage into your PII. Confirm?”

You nodded, and Tanner excused hirself, shutting the door behind hir.

“I know it’s hard, but, you gotta stop thinking everyone here’s out to get you,” David said as he stepped over to stand beside you. “I… know everything so far has it pummeled into your brain but, things are different now. I’m not going to be there to remind you every time that no one you’re going to interact with, outside of the council, or folks you’ve met so far that know, will know what you did. No one.”

“How do you know that,” you grumbled. “I seem to be the center of attention anywhere I go here.”

“You’ve only been around people handling you as a prisoner. Now that you’re not, you won't be. Tanner doesn’t know. Kerry and Ianthe don’t know. They just know you were a Realization Candidate. Thieves and gluttons also become Realization Candidates, not just captured Edenites. And even captured Edenites may just have been in the wrong place at the wrong time; surrendered, like you. There’s no telling by the Realization Completed stamp what you did—only you can make it weird by acting weird about it.”

He let you digest that for a good while in silence. Eventually, he lifted his over-sized tablet and started to tap around on it. Given a minute, he offered it to you to look at.

“Science has been analyzing the SM-13 since we’ve been in FTLT. It seems as though the properties of the blood in the ocean don’t just work on human flesh; the hemorover now has a biosignature that states it’s alive,” David said in a purposefully low voice, though you weren’t sure if he was doing so to be ominous, or to keep the information from being overheard.

His summary of the tablet’s information was harrowing, but it was just a preview of how awful the information was. More charts and graphs difficult for you to parse showed, after some studying, that the sub had what was effectively a heartbeat, and the fleshy growths within it’s hull reacted to stimuli, and bled when cut. Reading this information, truly processing it, drew your brain back into the sub, blood dripping from it’s walls as you raced between the camera button and the controls. “Your ship is alive,” you breathed, mimicking the fish’s taunting. Coming back to reality from the memory, you looked to David. “The fish said that. It, sounded as insane as anything else it said to me, so I didn’t even register that it got said until just now.”

“Simon… What the fuck happened down there,” David asked, hardly above a mutter.

“I… don’t know,” was all you could really respond with, same as any other time he asked you that. You thought more about what the fish screamed at you, shortly before what you assumed was the end of you. “’Why you. Why did it choose you?’ ‘You changed everything, Simon. Why couldn’t you do as you’re told?’” Your brain was far away from reality as you tried to remember what exactly were the fish’s words, let alone try to make sense of any of them. “I… don’t think… The fish didn’t want me to get the black box info to the surface.” You looked at David, who was watching you with a healthy amount of concern, though it was overshadowed by curiosity. “I think… something is wrong. I, know I wasn't supposed to live, but. I really think I was supposed to die down there. Something other than that fish wanted me to die. Something is watching me...”

David’s face was unreadable as the two of you stared at each other.

“How did the SM-8 crew get stuck down there?” you asked suddenly.

David made that face that Joseph did, that face that said you were punching above your class. He set his jaw as he thought about answering you, then sighed. “Similarly to you. The hemorover got attacked by something, the tow chain was severed, and we lost contact with them. Couldn’t get them on scans.”

“How long ago was that.”

“...About a year.”

“How many convicts before me were sent down there,” you pressed.

“One.”

“Why was I in the SM-13 then? Where’s 9-12?”

“Scrapped or repurposed. Each one was damaged beyond repair. I can tell what your next question is going to be; yeah, the ‘13 went down once before. The, guy before you, died of oxygen deprivation; he set off the fire extinguisher to flood the cabin with CO2 to suffocate himself.”

Your brow furrowed. “Who was in the other subs, then…?”

“Consolidation volunteers. After we lost the third, the council deemed it too risky to continue to send our own people,” he hesitated to say it the way he did, and made a face at his own words—a face of regret. “ ’11, never made it into the ocean. It’s construction was fundamentally flawed,” he said as an aside, as though he had just thought of it.

You chewed on his words, but something brought your brain back to your original question. “If the fish I delt with, was the researchers of the SM-8, something else had to have been down there to get them…” A light bulb went on in your head. “The skeleton… the, the one I originally found. It was, so much smaller than the fish; did the, researcher-fish kill the one that stranded them? And then use that skeleton as bait for the next fucker to go down there?”

David made a horrified face. “What created that one then?”

“Show me the pictures I took,” you said, a morbid thought coming to your head.

You turned the tablet toward him, and he tapped around for a little while, digging through the file trees like following a maze. You saw things you were pretty sure you weren’t supposed to, but he didn’t slow down nor speed up in his search. Eventually, he pulled up the folder of photos and turned the tablet back toward you.

Setting your jaw hard in preparation to go diving back into memory hell, you scrolled through them. You lingered on the one you took that first showed the fish monster, looming just behind the skeleton you took a sample of. “This.. isn’t what I was looking for, but it’s what I just mentioned. See the fish’s eye behind the skull?”

He swore under his breath, but didn’t reply otherwise.

You kept looking through the photos, tensing at several you didn’t actually see get taken—or at least, what the content was. The tow chain getting cut, the monster’s teeth far too close to the camera for comfort, the monster’s eyes lighting up like a light bulb in the darkness as you tried desperately to get out of that cave… There it was. That alien corridor with what looked like an eye at the end, but possibly could have been a door. “Here,” you passed the tablet to him. “I was too weirded out and afraid at the moment to really think about what this was that I photographed, but, this was when I was in that cave, trying to find my way out. That looks like a door in a doorway, right?”

He opened the picture in a program and started to mess with it. It changed from darker to lighter, to sharper to blurrier, and you furrowed your brows at what he was doing. He shook his head at his efforts. “You’re right. I was hoping that maybe if I edited the raw file it might come in clearer but. We kinda have what we have here, having to use x-rays to take photos like this.”

Why he made the effort didn’t make any sense, so you just continued with your thought, “There was. A lot of alien shit down there. Shit that, both looked like the eel, and shit that didn’t. I think there was something else living on that moon before the Quiet Rapture, and, however the blood appeared, what was already there got mutated, just like us.”

Something about that statement really got David’s attention, and he gave you an intense stare for several moments. “Did you take more photos like this one?”

“I mean. Probably? There’s a lot there. And, I think I got more than just that one of that door, eye, thing, since I was trying to figure out what the fuck it was.”

He flicked back and forth through the timeline.

“What took you so long to use those warheads on the fish monster?” you asked. You expected him to brush you off, but while you had him spilling way too much info, you figured you might as well try.

He glanced at you, giving you a look that said you were asking too many questions. “They were for emergency only.”

“It wasn't an emergency the first time?”

“...Sorry, no; not by council authority.”

You figured that would be the answer, but it still drew a huff out of you. “Any new discoveries on that thing?”

“Not yet, sadly. We don’t have the equipment. Hopefully keeping it on ice will allow the science center on Derin to study it to the extent that the SM-8 was,” he said, straightening his back and moving to tuck the tablet under his arm. “You’ve given me a lot to think about—and report. You rest up; try not to think too hard about this. I’m going to try and keep you in the loop of discoveries about this, but… If the council deems it confidential even from you, once we’re not stuck on transports together I don’t know that I’ll be able to. I’ll do what I can, though. Honestly, Joseph will chew my ear off if vie finds out I’m down here as it is. But, maybe this chat will get them to keep you looped in on it.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Did you want to stay aware of what was going on with this situation? There was that pesky feeling of unfinished business again. You nodded though, and David gave you a casual parting wave before heading out of the room, leaving the door cracked.

NOW THAT THE LIGHT HAS SEEN YOU, IT WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU

You winced your eyes shut and shook your head slowly. Joseph’s huge hand rested gently on your shoulder, dwarfing it, and that gesture pulled you out of the memory. That was a memory, right? The fish was dead. You heard it say that before, right?

“Another hallucination, friend?” vir voice came from within the darkness.

You took a deep breath. “A memory, I think.” What did the fish even mean by that. Other than, trauma.

“I’m sorry that it’s troubling you, Simon,” vie said, patting your shoulder before releasing it.

You opened your eyes to look at vir again. Vie had requested your presence in vir office as the transport was nearing dock. The screens lining vir office were turned on this time, displaying different sets of information—several about the status of the transport itself, several others had information about Derin station, even more had instructions on docking procedures for the station, a couple had a docking timer, and several displayed different camera angles from what had to be the exterior hull of the transport, showing the station growing imperceptibly closer by the second.

Had you skirmished here before? Stations didn’t always look obviously different from each other, but most had a feature or two that made them distinct, and for some reason this station seemed familiar, at least from the outside.

Vie tapped near your PII, which sat on vir desk between you. “You have been managing your own medication usage with your PII—very good, I’ve been keeping track. Report from medical states that you have been able to walk increasing distances but are not fully ambulatory yet, so, I will be accompanying you to the medical center once we’ve docked. They’ll give you a thorough physical and from there decide whether you need to stay with them, or are capable of living on your own and simply coming in to see them for medications and check ups.” Vie tapped on your PII and with a practiced hand, opened a map program even from vir upside down angle. “I’m not sure how much, if at all, you’ve interacted with your PII since I gave it to you, but as an introduction, this here is a map program that will automatically open the most current map for any station, outpost, or transport you are on. It has triangulated positioning, so it will give you a live-updated status of where you are. Until you learn the layout of Derin Station, this will be vital. Before you arrived in my office, I was able to communicate with the governance of Derin to update your status as a resident, enroll you in their station chat, and get your credentials synced with the intranet there. I’ve forwarded all of this already to your PII, and everything will automatically load up when your PII connects to the station’s intranet. That includes a set of pins on your map notating important locations throughout the station; your apartment, the medical center, the Commons, my office, as well as others.”

“All personnel, prepare for docking in T-minus 7 minutes,” came a voice over the loudspeaker in the room.

“You are welcome to visit my office at any time—during office hours, of course. You can always message me, as well, and I will respond as soon as I’m able to. If I’m not on station, one of my secretaries will do their best to assist you, or pass you onto one of my colleagues—very likely that would be Anseh, as at her age she doesn’t much get off the station, and I trust her with your case the most of the council,” vie continued.

Your attention had drifted to the screens that lined the office, and though you were listening, absorbing the information that Joseph was giving you, your mind was also elsewhere. “Is there a curfew?”

“There is a sleep cycle period. It’s not expected for residents to be tucked into bed on the exact dot of when sleep cycle starts, but there are noise and behavior ordinances during this period, and the vast majority of public figures will not be available during this time.” You looked to vir with question on your face. “The council, medical will be in emergency receiving mode, stall owners, the like.”

“Stall owners…” you asked slowly.

“Folks who prepare food, as well as traders.” Whatever the look on your face was made vir chuckle. “I’m guessing Eden has nothing of the sort.” Vie paused to receive your head shake. “As you had asked previously, food acquisition is left up to your devices, and that is facilitated by talented food preparation artists who utilize stock from hydroponics to craft various dishes from, and they keep stalls in the Commons during the waking cycle. There is no compensation required on your part to acquire food in this way. As for traders, they keep stalls dedicated to specific crafts and offer materials to those skilled who can trade them different materials. This is the method I referred to previously of how you may acquire chosen clothing; with trading your time or acquired materials, fibercraftsfolk are one of the types of traders that keep stalls on several of the Consolidation’s stations.”

You nodded along, mentally comparing that information to what Kerry had previously told you. Even though this was confirmation to what they had said, it was still difficult to wrap your head around. How were there enough resources that they weren’t kept under tight regulation by the council and it’s enforcers? You shook your head at the thought. “That is… so different from Eden. I’m having trouble even imagining what that looks like.”

You got distracted by the screens on the wall again as Joseph explained how the stalls were set up in the Commons ring; the cameras on the outer hull of the transport were showing it’s docking procedure, and Derin Station’s dock was much larger than Eden’s. As vie described something about alcoves that allowed shopkeeps to separate themselves and their stock from their patrons by a desk not unlike virs, you noted just how many other ships were docked. You knew the Consolidation had far more resources within their conglomerate than Eden, but it was mindboggling to see. “How.. big is Derin Station?”

“It’s the second largest in the Consolidation. I believe, by square footage, it’s three-fifths the size of Eden, if decades-old records are to go by. I personally find that fascinating, as it makes me wonder what all Eden has in it, knowing just how big and sprawling Derin is. It’s size is also the reason we’ve been so concerned about your ambulation; with the extent of your injuries and how long you’ve been bed-bound, it’s a hell of a trek between any two points for even the most abled bodied.”

“No shit…” you muttered in agreeance, eyes still glued to the screens. One of the screens on the outer hull of the transport showed the ship’s slowed descent come to a halt at a docking bay, and a set of airlock bridges extending toward the ship. “So… you’re gonna take me down to medical and.. then what?”

Vir words were clear and pointed, as if vie didn’t want to have to repeat virself a third time. “Medical is going to give you a thorough screening so they can gauge a baseline of your condition and come up with a plan to further your healing. Medical is where we’ll part ways for today. Your case is unique; normally I’d have those whom I’m handling come to my office, and then if they’re from off-station, show them to their quarters. If by some miracle, medical considers you independent enough that you don’t need to stay with them for any amount of time, you’ll be free to head to your quarters, or explore the station at your pace. You’re a sharp fellow, and with the map on your PII, I have all the faith that you’ll find your way just fine. My personal judgment is they’ll want to keep you for at least a few sleep cycles to monitor you—but I’m no medic,” vie chuckled. “Once you’ve been deemed independent enough by the medical center, send me a message and we’ll schedule your first integration class.”

At vir mention of the little tablet, you patted the pocket on your jumpsuit where you had put it, your fingers not finding it’s silhouette—oh right, it was on the desk. “Uh. What does happen if I lose or break this thing?” you asked, moving to pick it up and put it back into your pocket for safe keeping.

Joseph leaned forward on vir desk, placing vir elbows on the wood and crossing vir fingers in front of vir face, giving you a menacing look. “Don’t.”

Vir scrutiny made you recoil back into your chair, shrinking like you were a little kid under Father’s eye again.

Vie gave you a mischievous smile from behind vir hands. “While I am quite serious on that, if by chance it does happen, come see me. You’ll have to work to replace it, but we’ll get you a replacement. They’re hardy little machines, so it’s hard to completely break them, and they’re easily repaired, and their triangulated tracking means they’re hard to permanently lose, unless it’s in the vacuum of space.”

You nodded smally. Then the thought occurred to you; “What… is the work situation…?” No one had described it to you yet. There was obviously an expectation of working, considering the talk of the “capability testing” and that no one lives for free anywhere.

Vie sat up and back in vir chair. “That’s what the capability questionnaire is for. And, of course, medical’s thorough screening. A fully able-bodied member of the Consolidation is expected to put in at least 8 hours of time per cycle doing tasks that they are deemed capable of, if they are a permanent resident on a station, though the vast majority of members see service on various ships and transports. On assignment, you work as your task and position needs you, with an expectation of 10 hours of rest each cycle, maximum. You’ll go over this in more detail with the integration classes, and this is just an overview. It’s likely that until you’re fully healed, your only expectation will be to rest and familiarize yourself with life in the Consolidation.”

You nodded, digesting that. One of the screens on the wall caught your eye, seeing the transport was fully connected and crew was beginning to offload supplies from the trip.

“Any final questions before we head off ourselves?” vie encouraged.

You watched the screen for a few moments, thinking. “Will I… be kept apprised of the findings from the blood moon?”

Joseph’s face made a motion you weren’t sure what it meant. Not even the “you asked a question above your class”, but, something close. “I would have thought you would want to be done with that whole matter, but,” vie trailed off, picking vir words carefully. “I don’t want to say ‘no’. You’re the first person who should know, and you are an extremely valuable asset to piecing together what some of the data is telling. But I am not the only one on the council, and I cannot be the only judge of the classification of that information.” Vie paused again to pick vir words. “Based on your medical screening, future progress in healing your brain—if you are deemed capable of carrying that mental weight—and the official statement I will eventually ask of you on what happened down there, I will happily make the argument of the council to allow you access to the information we gather. It’s only fair you know what happened to you. However… Knowing the delicacy of the situation, do not get your hopes up.”

You nodded quietly. You thought back to the image of the fish, strung up in the tow ship’s cargo bay, so huge it had to be folded back on itself to clear the airlock. How the fuck were they going to transport that thing through this station? Especially secretly.

“You seem a bit troubled?”

You shook your head just a bit. “No, uh. I just. Feel like I have a score to settle with that fish. It nearly ate me.” You looked at your forearm and the bandaging there.

Vie were quiet for a moment. “As one might expect. But. Consider the score settled, with it being dead, hm? Or, that, moving forward is winning the fight.”

Vie were right. It was dead, not much more you could do to it that warheads didn’t already do. You nodded in response to that.

“Shall we head out then?” vie asked as vie moved to stand. Your nod prompted vir to round vir desk and take control of your wheelchair, moving you along with vir out into the hall and down into the maze of corridors.

The transport ship was so huge, that even through what felt like kilometers of hallway, the two of you didn’t see a single soul, even though you could hear announcements being made over the intercom, and knew that disembarking procedures were ongoing. Eventually, you reached a crew disembarkation zone, and exited the transport through the airlock bridge. As thankful as you were to not be being forced to walk, you also felt odd, powerless—the longer you traveled, the more awareness you had of the feeling. Aside from a freak accident on a transport that skinned both your knees nearly to the bone, you’d always been fit and able to run circles around even your Brothers; being reduced to relying on someone else to even move you around didn’t much help you feel free.

Joseph spoke up, pulling your attention from your feeling of powerlessness, as you bypassed several airlocks and entered the station proper; “You should follow along with your PII as we travel; it should have updated now that you’re on station and it’ll give you practice using the map.”

“Uh, sure,” you replied, moving to grab it from your pocket.

Maneuvering it as you moved was a task in and of itself, with how stiff your hand still was. Eventually, you figured out balancing it on your leg and holding it still with the meat of your hand allowed you to stabilize it and tap around on it’s screen. Following the pathing vie showed you earlier, a simple but easily parseable map opened with a tap. In the top right corner of the screen, there was a square that said R1. There was a slowly blinking dot on the screen, located inside the maze-like lines, and it moved pixel by pixel as you did. There were square crosshairs on the map, similar to the ones on the canvas map from the expedition—you stared at them for a disproportionate amount of time; why did that of all things get you? Taking a shaky breath, you tapped on one of them; it opened a dialogue box that stated the point of interest you tapped was the central elevator that led to the different rings of the station. Tapping off the dialogue box closed it. Curiosity outweighed the trauma, and you subsequently tapped on each of the crosshairs you could find in the vicinity; the others included a Community Center, Information Center, and The Trading Commons.

Based on the appearance of the section of the station you were in, you were in a service hall, and based on the map, were moving toward the central elevator. Joseph had been right, there was no fucking way you’d have been able to walk this by yourself, and you weren’t even sure how vie were doing this amount of walking, with you in tow, not at least without needing a break. As vie approached what looked to be a freighter elevator, a thought occurred to you; you tapped out of the map program, and over to your medication tracker. When was the last time you took meds? While you figured the medical center wouldn't put you through a slough of tests without updated meds, trusting that was hard, and it felt imperative in your brain to know and advocate for yourself. 6 hours ago on the nerve blocker, 8 on general meds. They were holding strong, so far, but the window for when the nerve blocker wore off was closing in fast—it usually lasted 8 hours or so, and you knew that figure well now that you’d been able to time it with that little tablet.

“We have record from the researcher who was mutating, stating that her skin turned into pure nerve endings.” Remembering that sentence coming out of David’s mouth made you shudder. What the fuck was that blood shit… And the thought that it had done that to you was something you’d been stewing on for a while. You chewed the inside of your cheek as Joseph stopped you and moved to interact with the elevator.

Vie spotted your jaw working and asked, “Hungry?”

You shook your head; “Thinking,” you grumbled. “Just… what the fuck did that blood do to me…?”

Vie gave you an empathetic look. “We’ll find out.”

“Have you seen my medical records?”

“I have.”

You drew a shaky in breath as the elevator arrived. “...Are you going to send anyone else back to that fucking moon?”

Vie were quiet as vie moved to take back up your chair and move you into the elevator. “It’s too early to say,” vie said as vie hit a destination button on the control panel. “But. With the sheer amount of information we received from the SM-8’s black box, the photos you took, and the specimen, we may not have to.” A more composed sigh of relief left your chest. Joseph’s hand pressed onto your shoulder as the elevator moved. “Don’t let anyone tell you that what you accomplished was anything short of a miracle—not even yourself. What you’ve sacrificed is invaluable, and we owe you much more than just getting you back in working order.”

You twisted to look up and back at vir. Vie nodded, vir face sincere.

“David’s told me you’re having a hard time accepting that we’re not secretly going to kill you—his words, not mine. I want you to hear this straight from me; I am the final authority of what happens to you within the Consolidation—no one can pass judgment upon you without my word. I recognize the great deed that you’ve accomplished, and what it means for the Consolidation—for humanity. I know there’s not much we can do to make it up to you for the horrors you’ve experienced, but I hope we can provide for you all the same. When folks refer to you as a valuable member of the Consolidation, know that you are valuable.”

“How does what I did in that sub make up for Filament Station?” you grumbled.

Vie were quiet until the elevator reached it’s destination. “Well. That wasn’t your fault, was it?”

You felt your face fall into a frown. Vie didn’t say anything further as the elevator door opened and vie moved to begin to roll you again.

You twisted back to sit correctly, face wrinkled in uncertainty. It was hard to believe vir, and every gut instinct screamed not to. You also didn’t have much of a choice in not trusting vir. This was your life now, and if the person responsible for your ultimate judgment was being a benevolent benefactor, how could you turn your nose up at it?

Your eyes fell to the little tablet in your lap; the map had changed, and now displayed R2 in the upper right hand corner. Ring 2? It even kept track of which ring you were on? That’s handy. The layout of this ring was even more mazelike than the previous one, but Joseph seemed to be headed toward a large complex that many of the halls were built around. There was a crosshairs on the complex that when you clicked on it, it declared that to be the medical center. Seemed pretty easy to pick out. Other points of interest in this new locale included Joseph’s office, Anseh’s office, Council Meeting Hall, Maintenance HQ, and half a dozen other offices you didn’t recognize the names of their owners.

As you traveled, you finally encountered other people; a couple passed with brief nods, and another greeted Joseph by name—each gave you a curious glance.

“How many permanent residents are there of the station?” you eventually asked.

“About 50, give or take. There are many more that are considered residents, but are often on mission elsewhere,” vie replied. “The station typically supports around 200 people a day.”

As Joseph approached the medical center, you slipped the little tablet back into your pocket. The complex’s front door slid open at your approach, and vie wheeled you inside. A medic behind the desk just inside looked up, then to her computer to check something, then stood.

“Joseph, magister, welcome back. Safe trip?” she greeted as she moved out from behind the desk.

“Safe and brief, safe and brief,” vie replied, the greeting and response feeling like it was a common salutation.

“And Simon, sir,” she offered a soft hand for you to shake; you did out of courtesy. It was alien to be called by your name by someone you knew to be part of the COI... Years of “convict” had worn on you. And, sir? You certainly weren’t used to that. “I’m Lea, I’ll be one of your medic team. We’ve been expecting your arrival; I’ll bring you back to meet the rest of your team, and we can get started.”

Joseph stepped away from your chair and into your field of view. “Keep me updated on your status. I’ll message you tomorrow to check in if I don’t hear from you this evening. You can always message me any questions or concerns you have as well.”

You nodded to vir. “Thank you, magister.”

“Speedy recovery, my friend,” vie gave you a smile and headed off.

Lea waved to vir before turning back to you. “Would you be opposed to walking? Your file says you’ve been getting better with the transport team, but I would like to gauge how well you’re doing for myself.”

“Sure,” you replied, moving to stand, grabbing your satchel as you did. If anything, it was a relief to finally be out of that chair and under your own power again. You were stiff, as usual, more so even after sitting in that specific chair for so long, and Lea stayed at the ready to help you if it seemed as though you were to have any sudden weakness.

She gave you a nod as you seemed stable on your feet, and deemed it safe to leave your side; she moved the chair to a corner of the tiny lobby, then gestured for you to follow her.

“Uh. How much do you know about what.. uh, happened?” you asked as she led you through more winding corridors.

She walked backwards through the hallways, watching how you shifted your weight and kept a watchful eye out for any distress. “We know your case is evolving, and that there is classified information involved. Information that has been deemed classified but also necessary to your treatment has been declassified solely for us as your medical team; that includes anything you tell us that we find out later was classified.”

Okay, that’s, good to know, but wasn’t very clear. “Like?”

“We know that you were sent to explore an ocean of blood, and that the substance mutated parts of your body. Scans today will find out more about how much has been affected and how,” she said professionally.

“There’s, more to find out?” That was ominous, paired with the info that the scans from on the transport had already found.

“There’s always more to find out,” she said playfully. “The transport was equipped with scanners that are just okay, and geared more toward every day issues; we have scanners here that are far more in depth and powerful, and should give us much clearer answers. If at any time during tests today you need any help at all, even for us to pause a test, please let us know; what you went through sounds awful, and we’ll do our best to facilitate you.”

She stopped at a doorway, and gestured for you to enter. The room was about the size of the med bay on the tow ship, and was lined with several different enormous machines. There was both an exam chair and a bed along one wall, and Lea followed you inside and moved to direct you toward the chair. As you headed that way, you caught sight of two more medics in the room, each looking to be busy with getting machines set up. You set your satchel at the foot of the chair, and as you sat down, you noticed a third fellow in the room, who stood up from a rolling chair across the room and approached.

“Simon, good to finally meet you,” he said, offering a hand to shake. He was an older gentleman, delicate in build but still seemed spry.

His voice was incredibly familiar, “ Wait, Doctor Beckett?” The psychologist you spoke with? The distance between the station and the moon was too great to have gotten a video feed to bounce through the relay, so you hadn’t seen him, only heard him.

He nodded as you shook his hand. “I’m going to be part of your medical team, of course; I hope you don’t mind my sitting in on the tests today, I wanted to get a baseline on your current mental health as the team here got a baseline on your physical health. Especially as I see you were able to start on anti-psychotics once you were on the transport; how has that been going?”

“Good, great. Uh, it’s been helping the hallucinations a lot, and the nightmares too.”

“Good, good! Once the team is done here, I’ll jump back in to schedule our first session here. But, I’ll let these folks get started,” he said, giving you a nod before he headed back to where he’d been seated, and picked up a tablet, probably to take notes.

“Could I have you remove your clothing?” Lea requested. Your face must have given her a look, as she continued: “The team on AT-5 noted several minor injuries that the transport team doesn’t seem to have followed up on, so we need to check everything for your baseline; if this blood stuff mutated you so badly it needed to be surgically excised, we can’t let anything go undocumented.”

You nodded, that made sense. You unzipped your jumpsuit, then leaned down to unlace and kick off your boots. At least that was the easy part; getting them tied again was going to require you to ask for help. As you stood to let the jumpsuit fall off you and toe off your socks, one of the other medics came over from where he had been messing with one of the machines, a tablet in his hand.

He offered you a handshake with his free hand in greeting. “Caleb, I’m your radiotech.” You took his hand—he gave you a strong handshake that nearly threw you off balance. “Last but not least is Margie,” he stated, gesturing to the last medic who was still fighting with one of the computers. “Zhe’s your pain management specialist, but, zhe’s trying to get your previous test results rendered and compare them to the declassified information we have, but it’s been—”

“It’s been hell in a handbasket; it’s like the files are cursed,” zhe spoke up from across the room, not moving a muscle from where zhe sat. “Normally, once a transport docks and files upload to the hub, we just get them. The council must be declassifying things as we speak, only thing I can think of being the issue.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they are cursed, considering what I went through,” you said, hopefully just loud enough for her to hear.

“We’ll start on the basics, you keep fighting, Margie,” Lea called over. Zhe gave her a thumbs up.

Lea wheeled one of those small surgical tables over and grabbed a pair of bandaging scissors from it. “Need visuals on your grafts.” You nodded, and closed your eyes as she started on the ones on your face. The bandaging coming off pinched and drew a grumble from your chest. “When was his meds refreshed?”

“About 8 hours ago,” you replied.

“Oh, you’re on the ball; that’s good!” she chirped. “We would like to document what your pain level is without the medication, so we’ll hold off on giving you your refresh until then.” You opened your eyes to give her a look, and she gave you an apologetic face. “We’re not monsters—once we get a baseline, if you deem it necessary, we’ll get you another round. From your file, it sounds like they’ve been doing so well you haven’t been in anypain, so it’ll be a good baseline for you to know too.”

You nodded, resignedly. That made sense.

Caleb was tapping away on the tablet in his hands as Lea studied your face. “His left eye is discolored,” she spoke toward Caleb, looking between your eyes. “I’m assuming its the left that’s discolored, based on where the damage is. It’s amber instead of the same dark brown as his right.” She looked directly at you when she spoke next; “Do you have any vision issues? Blurriness, doubling vision, a lower light perception through that eye?”

You shook your head. It was the first you were hearing about this. “How bad is my face?” you asked smally.

“The grafts are coming along well! It’s going to have a rough texture once its healed, based on where the donor skin was harvested from, and it looks like you’re going to be missing a chunk of your beard, but the AT-5 surgeon did really well, all things considered.” Moving on from your face, she scrutinously studied your neck where your tattoo was, and gestured to it. “Does this, hurt?”

You shook your head. “That’s been scarred over for a while now.”

“It looks like it’s inflamed.”

You moved to touch it. The scar did feel raised, but beyond that, it didn’t react painfully at the touch. “Huh. It doesn’t hurt, but yeah, the scar feels a bit different.”

“Has anyone noticed that yet?” Lea asked.

You shook your head. “If they did, no one told me.”

Caleb notated that on his tablet. As Lea moved to cut the bandaging off your chest and left arm, you steeled yourself for pain. “Breathe,” Lea said gently.

“I’m… worried about what happens when the nerve block wears off,” you said, trying to focus on breathing.

“That is one thing I caught from the few intact files we got for you,” Margie called from across the room. “Tell me more about that?” Zhe didn’t look away from the computer zhe was fighting with.

“Um. Well. The.. end of what’s left of my left arm is what hurts the most, and it’s unbearable pain when I don’t have the nerve block. My last med team had a theory, based on a discovery I made on the blood moon, that… The blood could have turned the skin into raw nerve cells, and that’s why the general pain meds aren’t touching it.”

Margie turned zer attention from the computer to look at you, and Caleb looked up from his tablet. Margie, in a rolling chair zerself, pushed off the counter and rolled over to stop in front of you. Zhe looked at Lea, who had paused in removing your bandaging in surprise. “Keep going,” zhe demanded of her.

Lea nodded and did so, focusing on removing the bandaging from your left arm. You set your jaw in anticipation for pain, but the nerve block seemed to be intact at least for the moment. As the bandaging fell away, the three medics all leaned in to look at the damaged limb. You’d seen it in previous bandage changes, and it didn’t look any different now; the surgeon hadn’t opted to cut away the entirety of the mutated flesh, and it still had a tumorous and alien growthy look on the edges. You weren’t sure why the surgeon had made that choice, but figured it had something to do with how difficult it would’ve been to put a graft on that specific spot, and how much you’d already bled.

Margie began to notate to Caleb, who in turn tapped it onto his tablet. “Traumatic transhumeral amputation is capped by an unknown growth, appears similar to neurofibromas.” Margie reached for a pair of foreceps on the surgical table, and began to poke at the end of your arm. You couldn’t feel anything zhe did, for now at least,even as zhe began tugging at the growths. Zhe moved to grab a scalpel and cut a small section off, rolling away toward a microscope across the room with it secured.

“I don’t even see why this is still bandaged,” Lea said just above a mutter. “There’s no discharge on the bandaging, and the flesh looks odd but clean and… maybe? Not infected?”

“I, don’t know why this wasn’t all cut off,” you said. “I don’t have any of this on the other spots, I don’t think.”

“If this was enough to stop the bleeding, and the mutating, then the surgeon probably opted to leave it in tact as a stopgap until a touch up surgery can to go through and fix it after your other wound locations were healed,” Caleb spoke up. “That’s a lot of damage, and it’s hard for the body to heal all of what you have going on at once.”

Made sense, and mirrored your own theory.

“Maybe it was wrapped just for aesthetic… Because obviously the wrapping wasn’t to protect it, it’s not sensitive tissue, and if it hurts as much as it does even with the bandaging on, it’s not pain management,” Lea continued her thought train, musing aloud.

“It is condensed nerve tissue,” Margie declared, still looking into the microscope. “It’s the weirdest nerve tissue I’ve ever seen, though—no wonder it hurts. Yeah, you’re staying on nerve block until we can sort that out. ..Shit, it’s cancerous, that’s why it looks weird. It’s benign, as far as I can tell, but I see how it got to looking the way it does.”

You couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. “How do we sort that out?”

Margie looked up at you from zer study. “I need to get these files sorted first, and let Lea and Caleb finish your physical. Then we can talk about that.”

You nodded, and zhe rolled back over to the computer to keep fighting with it.

“Exposed nerve tissue, shit,” Caleb swore under his breath.

Lea finished removing the bandages on your chest. “Medium sized graft over the right collarbone, status is good. Doesn’t look like any of that tumorous growth was left here. Two stitched wound closures on the right deltoid region, no growth left here either.” She moved around to see your back. “Large graft over the right shoulder blade and onto the spine, status is good. No growth here. Several instances of stitched wound closures on the left shoulder blade. Large patches of bruising along the entirety of the back, all in various stages of healing.”

“How did you lose your arm?” Margie asked from across the room, not looking away from the computer zhe was fighting with.

Lea stopped, and looked to your face. You were quiet for several moments, trying to figure out how to describe it in a way that didn’t sound insane—it was the first time anyone had asked you that. “I… I’m not even sure. I…” You took a deep breath, both to steady yourself from the memory and to try and convince yourself it was real. “I got thrown against the side of the sub, and this, tumor-y growth shit was growing all along the walls. It, grew onto my hand, up my arm, and when I tried to free it,” you shrugged, shaking your head slowly, not knowing how else to describe it, “I… pulled away without my arm. It was still stuck to the sub. ...That was… that was when I knew I was a deadman. ..Somehow, I’m still here. It sounds insane, but. Everything about what happened down there was insane. I’m insane…”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” came Dr. Beckett’s voice from across the room, mirth in his tone.

The medic team chuckled at that, but you could only shake your head. “I can’t tell what was real, and what was a hallucination. There was an incident on the transport ship that blurred that line even harder—I hope Tanner put that in my file. Something is wrong about that moon, about me now that I was down there… If I’m not insane, then I’m actually cursed.”

“Well, if you’re insane, then Dr. Beckett’s got you covered. If you’re cursed, then hopefully we’ve got you covered,” Caleb said. You gave him what you hoped was a pleading look, you weren’t sure what exactly your face was doing. He stepped over and held out a fist to you—you hardly recognized the ancient gesture; it was something the kids on Eden hardly remembered from their lives before the Quiet Rapture, and you hadn’t used it since your Brothers stopped using it when everyone had hit adulthood. You moved to tap his fist with yours. “We’re gonna get you fixed up.”

You nodded to him quietly.

Lea moved around to your front to keep looking for things to note. Spotting your right arm bandaged, she moved to take up the scissors again, and began carefully removing the bandaging. “Medium sized graft on the right interior forearm, status is good, no growth left here either. Extensive spiderwebbing of glued cuts?” she asked more than stated, “All along the lower forearm, wrist, and hand, both ventral and dorsal.”

“I, I think that’s more removed growth… It looks like the stuff that grabbed my arm, but, I was able to free my right arm… Just, not my left,” you said quietly.

She nodded, and looked to Caleb to note that. “That makes a lot of sense. How stiff is that hand?”

“Pretty stiff, but, not unusable,” you replied.

She nodded. “How’s the sensation?”

“Uh, alright. The mismatched sides of the wounds have made it difficult to feel things correctly, but, I think once everything’s totally healed it’ll be fine.”

She nodded more, then gestured for you to sit back further on the exam chair; you did, and she moved to examine the graft donation sites on your thighs. “Donation sites are looking good, clean edges and the scabs are intact.” She looked pointedly to you. “I’m not sure if anyone told you, but it’s imperative you do not pick, scratch, peel off, or otherwise damage the scabs here, understand? It’s going to itch like hell itself, but that means it’s healing. Your grafts are going to start itching soon too, but not as badly as the donation sites. These scabs will fall off in time, don’t “help” them—got it?”

You nodded affirmatively.

As Lea moved to inspect several large bruises on your legs, Margie cried, “Aha! Finally, got the files. I’m loading them up into the medhub for comparison.”

“Excellent. Lea’s almost done with the visual inspection, and we’ll move on to the scans soon,” Caleb said.

“Severe bruising on the right lateral thigh looks to be healing nicely. Moderate bruising on left shin is nearly healed.” She moved to look you over once more for anything else of note. “Anything I missed?” she asked you.

“You tell me,” you replied.

She gave you a wry smile. “Let’s get you into the scanner then.”

Caleb moved to put his tablet over by Margie, and then to engage one of the machines along the opposite wall. Lea gestured for you to follow her, and you did so dutifully, hopping down from the exam chair and stepping over to where Lea stopped. From afar, it looked like a giant square along the wall, but as one end of it opened up to release a bed, the inside looked more like a tube.

Your brow furrowed a bit; you’d never had anything worse than a stab wound, or the skinned knees, and you weren’t sure what to expect with this machine.

Lea caught your apprehension, and asked, “Knowing what you went through recently, have you developed claustrophobia?”

You shook your head slowly, uncertainly. “Uh.. I’m.. not sure.”

“For the scan, you’ll need to be enclosed in the machine for about a half hour, lying as still as possible. Think you can manage that?” Caleb asked.

You looked to him, then to Lea. With a steadying in-breath, you sighed; “I can try. Y—you said it can be paused at any time, right?”

“The scan needs to go for the full time, or it’ll need to be restarted to get a clean image. Why don’t we see how you do just being enclosed, and if you’re good, I can run the full-body x-ray. From there, we can see how you’re doing and if we can proceed with the scan,” he offered.

You nodded, and moved to sit on the bed. What was one more tight tube? At least this one was cozy, and not surrounded by blood—or filling with it. Swinging your legs up, Lea moved to help you settle into the right spot, and she instructed you to keep your arm still at your side. Being in position, Caleb gave you a warning, then engaged the machine to slide you inside. It was pitch black once it closed, and there were quiet, indistinguishable machine whirring sounds coming from above you in it’s idle state. You closed your eyes, and that seemed to help.

“How’re you feeling, Simon?” came Caleb’s voice, muffled by the layers of metal.

“Okay, so far,” you said, hopefully loud enough for him to hear. It was deafening to you, though.

“I’m gonna take the x-ray, then,” he said.

The machine whirred up a dozen decibels, then the sound died down again.

“That’s done. How’re you feeling?”

“That was it?”

“Yep, the scan won’t be much louder than that, either, but it’ll go for about a half an hour.”

You thought about it for several moments. “Go for it.”

“Gotcha; remember, you gotta stay really still for this one, so get comfortable. Let me know if you need to get out.”

You shifted a bit to relieve some tension on your back graft as the machine whirred up again. It didn’t get any louder than it previously had, but this time, it sounded like the gears inside were moving all around you, and slowly moving from your head down to your feet. It was a bit disconcerting, but keeping your eyes closed and listening to the machine’s progress was lulling. In fact, it was really hard not to fall asleep; you realized as you began to doze that you probably shouldn’t fall asleep, just in case you had a nightmare.

When the whirring of the machine had reached down around your hips, the medics’ voices drifted in from outside the machine. They were extremely muddled due to the sound of the machine and the mass between you, but it sounded like hushed excited tones. What the fuck did they find inside you? That’s what they were fawning over, right? A light dread crept into your consciousness; what did they find…? You took inventory of yourself as you listened to the whirring; nothing hurt, at the moment. Nothing felt out of the ordinary, not even so much as a tickle. Could something insidious really be hiding in your body; how? Though, that made you think of how you didn’t even realize that your face had gotten fucked up until you woke up with bandaging on it. When did that happen, even?

Retrieving the black box, being submerged in the blood… That didn’t make sense either, though. You didn’t have any weird growths anywhere else on you, so why your—oh right. You’d taken a bash to the cheek, and the drip on your forehead. Did that blood affect you mostly where you already had open wounds? That would make sense… But then, why your eye? And, you hadn’t even noticed anything wrong with your left eye either. You sighed, then remembered you needed to keep still.

Somehow, you managed to not fall asleep, trying your best to listen to the progress of the scan as the machine followed along your body. It made you antsy as it got to your feet, and soon thereafter, the machine whirred quickly back to it’s starting position and then wound down.

“You okay in there?” Caleb asked as the bed seemed to unlock from it’s position, then began to slide you back out.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, then instantly regretted your words as the light of the room hit your eyes. You winced them shut with a groan, then reached for your forehead where you pulled your graft at the reaction. “Ow, fuck.”

“Shit, sorry, forgot to warn you,” Caleb said with an apologetic tone.

A hand grabbed yours before you could touch your forehead; “No, don’t mess with your graft. Let me see it,” came Lea’s voice from the brightness behind your eyelids. She at least let you have your hand back, and you moved it to shade your eyes from the room’s brightness. “I don’t think you dismounted the graft’s inosculation, at least.”

“Is that good?” you grumbled, not recognizing the word.

“Yes, that means you haven’t broken the new blood vessels forming between the graft and the muscle underneath.”

“Huh. That does sound good,” you replied, daring to open your eyes against the light, though not without your hand for a shield still.

“You’re in the healing stage where it’s still establishing itself, so the new vasculature is delicate. One wrong move and you can still slip the whole graft out of place, and it dies.”

“That’s good to know. What got everyone so excited out here, by the way?” you asked, still wincing, trying to get your eyes to adjust to the light level.

“We’re waiting for the scan to process so we can share that with you in better detail, but the x-ray had some interesting anomalies on it,” Margie said from where zhe was sitting at the computer.

“Interesting how,” you asked, moving to sit up, satisfied with how much your eyes had adjusted to the light.

“When the scan is processed, we can tell you more,” Caleb reinforced.

“Okay, but, good? Bad? I have 7 days to live?”

“Comparing this to the scan that the transport team got of you, likely you’re fine, but nothing that any of us have ever seen anything like,” Margie replied, clicking around on the computer.

You noticed Lea was holding your clothes, and she offered the bundle to you before you could think about getting up. You took it with a “thank you”, and figured if she was offering it to you, you were allowed to get dressed again, so you did so, carefully. She stood by, at the ready to help, but you were grateful she didn’t automatically move to do so. You looked to her when you realized something; “Do, I need new bandages?”

She shook her head. “Your graft sites are coming along nicely, and at this point other than you being delicate with your movements, they shouldn’t need to be protected with bandaging, or need any drainage sopped up.”

You nodded at that, and continued to dress, but paused once you had your boots on, and sighed, looking up to Lea for help. “Could you, please?”

She looked dumbly between your face and your boots for several seconds until she caught a glimpse of your one hand, then your malformed stump, and realized. “Oh, shit, of course!” She sat on her heels in front of you and laced your boots for you. “I’ll send Joseph a message and see if vie can’t source some boots that you can fasten yourself for you—or, have these altered. Honestly, I’m surprised none of us thought of this sooner…”

You caught Caleb looking over at what was going on. “..Oh,right. We only have a couple folks that come through with upper limb issues, so it’s, really easy to forget. Sorry, Simon.”

You nodded an acquittal at him, and gave Lea a “thank you”. “I, honestly don’t know how I’d be able to put them on if I didn’t have help… I was also given a razor, and now hearing that my beard is going to look like shit, I’m going to have to figure out how the hell I’m supposed to shave one-handed…”

“Fuck, that does suck,” Caleb spat in empathy.

Lea stared at your boots, and you could see the gears turning in her head. She didn’t seem to get anywhere, so she pulled out her little tablet from her pocket and started tapping around on it. “Yeah, I’m. I’m messaging Joseph right now. That’s something that vie’ll be more knowledgeable about.”

Seeing her PII, you reflexively checked for your own—it was still in the pocket you’d put it in. You sighed. A thought came to your mind, and you watched Lea as she typed away. When she seemed done, you asked, “I.. haven’t had it explained to me yet… Who is Joseph? In the COI, I mean. I, have the impression vie’re on the council but. That, just anyone can message vir, that, vie’re going on trips to retrieve a…” you caught yourself before you could say something incriminating, “..Realization Completionist?”

“Anyone can message anyone on the council.” Caleb beat Lea to answering. “The council is the reigning body of the Consolidation, sure, but they’re also the peoples’ representatives. The council doesn’t make a decision without the whole council, and a councilor doesn’t make decisions about a decision until they’ve heard from their people. Their offices are open to the public as well, and the councilors walk amongst the people of the Consolidation with full trust, because they know that the people trust in them.”

You watched him as he continued to mess around with the scanner’s interface, digesting what he said. It was so different here...

Suddenly, the wall between the scanning machine and where Margie sat fighting with the computer lit up.

Margie and Caleb both looked at it simultaneously, and that prompted Lea to wander over to look as well. Wanting to see what all the fuss was about, you carefully stood and wandered after Lea.

What lit up the wall was two images, projected there side by side. On the left was obviously an x-ray. To you, nothing seemed out of the ordinary—but you also didn’t know what you were looking for. On the right was some sort of soft tissue scan, and the way it projected, it was constantly rotating through multiple layers. That was where shit got weird, and it was obvious even to you. All three medics had their eyes laser-focused on the soft tissue scan, and Caleb barely remembered to pull up his tablet to start notation before both Lea and Margie started dictating to him.

“Starting from the head down,” Margie declared. “Multiple concussions including major injury to the frontal lobe, right temporal, and the visual cortex.”

“Soft tissue anomaly of the left side face, looks like the type of anomalous growth as on the left arm remnant, left over from where the surgeon had already excised the surface section. I’m deeming this type of anomaly as ‘Anomaly A’ for brevity of the document,” Lea dictated.

“Left eye has a structural anomaly, but it’s extremely hard to pick out; probably why the eye still functions fine. Can’t tell if it’s Anomaly A.”

“Sinuses have structural anomalies A, but the extent is located mostly in the nasal cavity.”

“Soft tissue of the left cheek has structural anomalies A remnants around where the surgeon excised previously.”

“Tongue has structural anomalies A as well, but the extent is minimal.”

“Scar tissue on the neck is anomalous, but not Anomaly A. I want a biopsy.”

“Anomaly A structures present down the length of the trachea, but the anomalies don’t seem to be impeding usage as evidenced by the scan picking up functionality.”

“Right lung has anomalous A structures, but also doesn’t seem to be impeding function.”

“Guys, slow down,” Caleb grumbled in frustration. You weren’t sure that they heard him.

“Left lung has some bruising, as well as structural anomalies A.”

“The left chest cavity has structural anomalies A on ribs 3-6.”

“Stomach has structural anomalies A in several locations.”

“Liver is showing extensive anomalous A growth, possibly from filtering the malignant blood. Note to run a liver function test.”

“No other visible torso damage, moving on to extremities; traumatic transhumeral amputation of the left arm has extensive anomalous A growths at the terminal end, encasing both the soft tissue and bone. That’s going to be a doozy to fix…”

“Soft tissue around the right collarbone has anomalous A remnants around where the surgeon excised previously.”

“Soft tissue around the right trapezius and the right lateral spine has anomalous A remnants around where the surgeon excised previously.”

“Soft tissue on the right deltoid has anomalous A remnants around where the surgeon excised previously.”

“Soft tissue of the interior right forearm has anomalous A remnants around where the surgeon excised previously.”

“Soft tissue of the right lateral thigh muscle has structural anomalies A.”

“Soft tissue of the left anterior shin musculature has structural anomalies A.”

“Something doesn’t seem right,” Margie eventually concluded as zhe and Lea ran out of immediately noticeable issues.

Your head was spinning, and the blood had left your face trying to process everything you had wrong with you around when Caleb tried to get them to slow down. “Wh—what doesn’t seem right?”

Lea shook her head, “I agree but.. I can’t quite pick it out.”

“You’re this injured, with this extent of anomalous growths, but you’re still standing here with us,” Margie looked to you.

Lea did too, then back to the scan. “…I see it now.” She pointed to where your right thigh was on the scan. “You have an obvious bruise here, enough of one that this should be showing muscle tearing at the very least. In fact, I don’t see any soft tissue damage, just the anomalous tissue.”

Margie turned to look to you, and seemingly a light bulb went on in zer head. “..Hold on.” Zhe turned back to the computer that zhe had been fighting with and started pulling up files on it. “I saw a heavily redacted file pop up while I was trying to get them in order—here it is.”

Zhe sent it to the projector, and it blew up large enough for someone on the other side of the room to read it. It was heavily redacted, but the sections left open for viewing mentioned the properties of the blood from the ocean, including how when the blood came into contact with skin, it mutated the cells first by turning the contacted tissue into stem cells, then rewrote it’s DNA to be a different type of cell.

All three medics looked to you, and you looked between the three of them, confused. “What?”

“The anomalous tissue left in you isn’t just benign tumors, it’s your own local cells that turned into stem cells, that turned into cancerous cells.” Margie stressed.

You shook your head and shrugged. “I don’t, know what any of that means...”

“Stem cells are blank cells, what turn into other types of cells. The blood mutated you by erasing what the affected cells originally were, then turned them into something else,” Lea helped translate.

“It’s why we’re seeing a concentration of the anomalous A structures around wounds and mucosal membranes; it targeted already damaged and structurally weaker cells, easy for it to mutate,” Margie continued.

If you had any blood left in your face, it was gone. “What… does that mean for me?”

“We’re not sure yet. The growths are benign, meaning they won’t continue to corrupt other cells around them, and judging by the scan, your muscles and bones where the anomalous A structures are is functioning like normal cells. Hell, they might just be functioning like normal cells because they are those cells, but, reorganized,” Margie replied.

Lea was now studying the x-ray. She tapped the left side ribs, and when she did, you noticed they looked quite different from the right ones. “You must have had broken ribs, 3-6,” she tapped them, each of them structurally odd versus the ones on the right. “When you had the ocean blood enter your bloodstream in some way, it must have targeted the damage, and “fixed” it. That also is evidenced by the fact we’re not finding any soft tissue damage.”

It was too much to process, and was making your head swim. You moved to go sit back on the exam chair, not sure how long your balance was going to hold. Lea had followed you to make sure you were okay—you didn’t even notice until you had sat back down. You gave her an appeasing nod and a hand gesture, trying to brush her off—really, you just needed to sit, and process.

Margie and Caleb were continuing to pour over the soft tissue scan, often looking back to the x-ray to cross reference. Margie had tapped a couple times on the computer, and was now manually controlling the scan’s animation, making the image look like it was slicing through you with light.

“Does anything hurt, right now? Other than the graft you pulled,” Lea asked.

You could only shake your head. “No the, meds are still working well. When I, uh, heard you talking out here, real excitedly, I tried to. Take inventory of myself and, honestly, I don’t feel any different than I did before I went into that sub. I—I dunno if that’s the meds or the… mutations just. Can’t be felt, or.. I dunno.”

Lea moved to take her little tablet out of her pocket and inspected it. “You said you had taken your meds about 8 hours ago, about an hour ago. How long have those been lasting for you?”

“About 10. The nerve block, about 8, and, that’s the one I’m most worried about.”

She nodded, “Of course, of course. How willing are you to come off the nerve block, so we can get a baseline pain level for it?”

You took a deep, apprehensive breath. “I… I’ll do it, but—”

“I’ll get a syringe ready right now so once you tell us you can’t handle it anymore, it’ll be ready to go.”

You took a shakier breath. “Okay,” you said, just above a whisper.

“I can make it up, Lea,” Margie called over, rolling zer chair away from the wall where zhe’d been studying the projection.

“Margie’s real good at it, and we’ve got the good stuff too,” Lea said with mirth. She looked you up and down, and seemed as though she wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to ask her next question. “Up to one more test? I know you just had a lot of really bad news dumped on you, but, I need to know if you’re going to need to stay with us. I need to know how much walking you can do, since, as you saw coming in, we’re not a small station.”

“Sure, how, do we do that?” you asked, trying to even out your breathing and get your body back in order to do the best you could.

“Best way is just to take a walk. I can bring the chair with us, for when you need it, and I’ll show you around the station a bit. How’s that sound?”

You nodded, “Sure, sounds good.”

“Have you tried walking and talking? I know Tanner’s not the most gossipy of sorts,” she teased.

You cracked a smile. “Not, much.”

“I can talk at you then, don’t feel the need to respond if you’re trying to focus on your breathing, then.”

In a sudden clamor of steel wheels on the bulkhead, Margie rolled over in zer chair, coming to a stop right at Lea’s side. Zhe offered up a capped syringe to her. “Just in case the nerve block wears off early, or y’all walk longer than an hour or so.”

Lea took it and stashed it in one of her pockets. “Perfect, thank you Margie.”

Margie looked to you. “I’m going to keep studying your scan, and that biopsy of the anomalous tissue I took, and compare them to the documents we just got. I have theories, and I want to make hypotheses before we make any plans of action. Right now, things sound scary, I know. I think you’re fine. We just gotta figure out how fine you are, ‘kay?”

You nodded.

“You’ve given us a good puzzle. It’s been a while since we had one of these, so you’ve got our full attention,” zhe gave you a wry smile. “I’ll keep you updated with our findings.” With a well-executed kick off the exam chair’s base, Margie rolled away, back to the computer zhe’d been fighting with.

Lea nodded her head toward the door, gesturing for you to follow her. She paused and looked across the room as you stood; “Dr. Beckett, want to join us?”

You’d almost forgotten he was here; you watched as he stood and strode up to you; “The more the merrier, hm?” he stated.

Lea moved to head toward the door that you came through, and you dutifully followed her, Dr. Beckett following you. She walked backward down the hall again, keeping an eye on your movements, but didn’t do so the whole way—eventually, she turned the right way around and trusted that you were walking just fine. As she led you back to the tiny lobby, she grabbed the chair she’d stashed earlier, and moved to push it in front of her.

Heading out of the complex’s sliding door, she fell in step with you, walking at your pace. She led you down the same corridor that you had arrived through, and this time, you tried to focus on looking at your surroundings. The ceiling of the ring was a good several stories above, which made the complexes and buildings that made up the walls of the maze feel very short. The station was relatively bright, something that once you noticed it, surprised you—Eden was quite dark, lit only along the halls; but then again, Eden wasn’t built in rings like this station was. It was obvious upon thinking about it that Eden was built to let in starlight—it was a colony station. This station seemed to be built to be a trading hub, hence it’s size and more utilitarian build.

“You look like everything is all new to you,” Lea commented.

“It is… I’ve.. been on other stations before, but… Eden is built so differently from the other stations I’ve been on. I never actually noticed how different before,” you said, paying attention to how you were breathing as you spoke and walked.

She looked up to try and see what you were looking at. “How so?”

“It’s.. built in layers, levels. Most walls of the station are glass. Since the Quiet Rapture, it’s been so dark, since it was meant to let in sunlight. Here, it’s bright, because the walls weren’t made to do that.”

“Huh,” she gave a contemplative sound, “I never thought of that.”

Before you knew it, you had wandered up to the central elevator. As you stopped and studied it, Lea spoke up; “How are you feeling, walking so far?”

You nodded, “Doing okay.”

“Any pain, weakness, shortness of breath?”

“Breathing, but.. I think I’ll be okay.”

“Why don’t we go to the Commons; there’s plenty of places to sit down there, and we can introduce you to how the Consolidation operates its food service,” Dr. Beckett spoke up from behind you.

You and Lea both moved to look to him, your face questioning as she replied, “That’s a great idea, doctor, let’s do that!” You watched as she moved to tap the call button—it slid open immediately.

“You’re not the first Edenite that I’ve helped, son,” Dr. Beckett said gently as you stepped into the elevator as a group. “I know a bit about what it’s like, thanks to the folks that came before you, ones much like you—rougher around the edges, than you, though.”

Son… You set your jaw at hearing yourself be called that again, but by a much gentler voice. You chewed on that as you watched Lea reach for the control panel to the elevator. You noticed she tapped a button on a panel that was labeled Habitation; there was a different panel labeled Service, and it was pretty easy to figure that the elevator would spit you out on either a sub floor or a different section of maze based on which button you pushed.

As the elevator moved, a thought came to you, and you moved quickly to pop the collar on your jumpsuit, and zipped the zipper up as far as it’d come. Lea caught the movement, and you could see her look at you out of the corner of your eye. You could barely hear Dr. Beckett tapping on his tablet behind you. Without much of a warning, Lea’s hand was placed on your right shoulder. You looked at her questioningly as the elevator came to a stop.

“You didn’t catch yourself working your shoulder, did you? Are the meds starting to wear off?” She pointed out.

You blinked blankly at her. Turning your attention to your shoulder, it was indeed beginning to pinch. “Ah, shit, I didn’t even realize... I might’ve pulled my back graft…”

She nodded. “You can do a little bit of pulling, but I need you to be cognizant of it right now, because the more you begin to hurt, the more your muscles are going to want to protest or work out the pain,” she warned as the elevator door slid open once more.

You nodded in affirmation and moved to stick your hand in your pocket—it slid in comfortably along side your little tablet, and you gripped it for something to keep your attention on.

Lea stepped out, and started to lead the way. You hadn’t been in this sector of the first ring before, and the space was open and bright. Just like the offices ring, this ring was several stories tall, and was lit from far over head by warm colored lights. As you walked in further, the din of chatter became audible.

Rounding a corner, the sight made you stop and stare. The open space widened out into a huge vaulted area, occupied with many tables and chairs, even several seating arrangements of sofas facing each other. There were a few dozen people milling about, sitting and chatting or eating, or standing near the edges of the area. The walls of the area had alcoves just like that which Joseph had described to you, with a single person behind a half wall talking with someone on the outside, or working on various tasks. The smell of food cooking was enrapturing, and it finally clicked in your head what had been described to you.

“What the fuck,” you breathed just above a mutter.

Lea had turned to look to Dr. Beckett. “He’s, really never seen a commons?”

“No, we—we didn’t have anything like this,” you said, still looking around a bit awestruck.

“It’s something all the Eden folks I’ve worked with have been perplexed at,” Dr Beckett confirmed.

“No, we. We had scheduled meals and meal times, and. Folks from different clans had their own living spaces. You’re saying anyone can come and just sit here, at any time?” you looked to them both.

“For the most part. If you’re scheduled to be working somewhere, then you’re expected to be doing your work there, but some work can be completed while spending time in the Commons, and if you’re taking your official rest period, you can spend as much of that time here as you want.” Dr. Beckett explained.

“It’s a good place to come and get the latest gossip, too,” Lea added. She gestured for you to follow her, and she began walking into the area—you followed dutifully.

She led you on a circuit around the outer edge of the seating area, which gave you time to amble past the stalls to get a decent look at them. There was half a dozen different ones that were dedicated to food, each one with pictures that displayed different preparations of the ingredients they offered. Each one smelled divine, and that was perplexing. Nothing here was familiar at all, and just trying to comprehend it was making your head hurt.

What kind of hydroponics did the COI have, that Eden didn’t? You’d always known Eden to be the station with the best hydroponics of the stations left after the Quiet Rapture, so to know that there was different food here was baffling.

As your head swirled with the idea, Lea’s little tablet started to make noise, and she pulled it out of her pocket. She held it up to her ear and then spoke toward it; “Joseph, magister, what can I do for you?” She paused as though she were listening to a comms unit. “We’re still running our tests; we’re currently in the Commons testing his ambulation.” She paused, then pulled the little machine from her face, tapped on it’s screen, and held it toward you.

Before you could take it, Joseph’s voice came out of it; “Simon, I’m so sorry, it completely slipped my mind your limb deficiency when I was putting together your personal effects. That is extremely unprofessional of me, and I’m working to remedy that as we speak. Lea says you’re currently in the Commons; could you stop by Morrison’s stall and introduce yourself? Hy is the one I’m commissioning to get you more accessible gear, and if hy can see your abilities for hymnself, then it’ll give hymn a better idea of what the situation is.”

“Uh, of course, magister,” you said aloud, though, you weren’t sure if vie could hear you.

“Excellent—do keep me up apprised to the situation! And if you run into any other issues with your gear and hand count limitations, do let me know immediately,” vie replied. “Lea, privately, please.”

She tapped on her little tablet, then put it back to her ear. As she did so, she began to walk in the same direction she had been traveling, prompting you to follow her. “Of course, magister. ..Of course, magister. ...Yes, magister. Will do, magister.” She moved to slide her little tablet back into her pocket. She turned to look to you. “How are you doing walking? We’ve been going at a pretty slow pace, but I want to make sure you’ll be able to stand and speak with Morrison; hy can be a bit of a talker,” she said with mirth.

You nodded. Things were starting to hurt, but standing wasn’t too bad. “I, should be okay… The, meds are wearing off, but. It’s not too bad right now.”

She nodded. “If you’re comfortable, I’m going to push your limits. Think you’ll be good to continue if you get to sit and rest a bit after speaking with Morrison, then head back to the medical center?”

You nodded. She nodded in return and walked over to one of the occupied stalls nearby. A banner above the alcove looked to be painted to say, “Morrison’s Tailorship: Fibercraft, Alterations, and Garment Recycling.”

A tall, scruffy, older fellow within the alcove was speaking animatedly to someone already, but gave your group an acknowledgment when Lea approached. Hy did a double take, however upon glancing you, and waved you over spiritedly. The patron already at the stall looked over as you approached, and seeing Morrison’s reaction to your presence, gave hymn a “I won’t keep you”, and they parted with a polite wave. You stepped up, a bit overwhelmed by the excited reaction.

“Let me guess, you must be Simon,” Morrison spoke, hys voice obviously reigned in to a polite volume from what sounded like could be the level of a ship’s engine.

Hy offered a hand to you from across hys counter, and you took it; hys hand shake was as spirited as the rest of hys movements. “That’s me, yeah,” you replied.

“We don’t get many folk with upper limb issues, so Joseph called me in a muddle about helpin’ you out—said you can’t tie your boots. Easy fix, easy fix. Lemme get a good look at ya—“ As he looked you over, you gave Lea an uncertain look. Was hy always like this? She gave you a smile and nodded. “Left arm gone; which is your dominant hand?”

“Uh, my right, thankfully.”

“Good good! Easiest fix for boots for you is gonna be zippers on the in-side. Let me check real quick if I have a pair of zippers that strong,” hy said before turning to wander further into hys stall. You got a good look into his stall while hy dug around; there was more fabric present in overflowing boxes and crates than you’d ever seen in one place. A lot of it looked like scraps, not enough to make a full garment out of, but you thought about how hys sign said “garment recycling”. Huh.

“Are, you the one that Joseph was talking about when vie said, something about getting, chosen clothing?” You asked, almost shyly.

“Sure am! Bring me supplies, bring me fabric, trade me your time—shit, get me a doughnut from down the way and I’ll do what I can to fix you up with what you’re looking for,” hy said as hy continued to dig through hys supplies. What was a doughnut? “Hell. If you’d like, I can even trim and stitch up your jumpsuits’ arm for ya, only charge would be I get to keep the off-cuts—I’m always in need of official canvas for patches.”

That made you glance at your left arm. Ianthe had pinned up the loose fabric so it wasn’t flailing about unwieldily, and it did seem like a waste. Shit, your other one was in the medical center still. “I’ll have to take you up on that.”

“Good man, good man,” hy said as hy studied a zipper in hys hand. Hy compared it to another one in hys hand, then wandered back up to the counter, seemingly satisfied with hys selection. “What size boot you wear; I can work on them today and have you pick ’em up tomorrow.” You gave hymn your measurements with a curious look. Hy nodded, and said: “I got plenty of boots back here, and the work is on Joseph’s dime. You’ll just need to trade me the boots you got when you come up for your new ones. Sounds good?”

You nodded. “Thank you, seraph,” you said, and hy offered you hys hand again.

“Come back any time. Joseph said any alterations for making things able for you to do is on vir,” hy said as you shook hys hand.

“Good to know. Thanks again,” you gave hymn a polite wave and moved to rejoin Lea and Dr. Beckett.

“How’re you doing?” Lea asked.

You took inventory; you hadn’t realized that Morrison’s high energy had worn you down so much, and hy had kept your attention so well that you hadn’t registered how sore you’d become. “Sore,” you said, definitely feeling like that was the right word. Your body ached, your grafts itched, but thankfully, the nerve block hadn’t worn off yet.

“Do you need to sit down, or do you think you can make it back to the medical center?”

You thought about it for a second. Your right thigh was starting to complain, and sitting sounded like a really good idea, but you also weren’t sure if you could get back up if you sat down. You also registered that your breathing had become a bit labored; that left lung felt stiff, and the bruising the medics had mentioned was pressing against your ribs with each breath. “Let’s… let’s head back. I’m… If I need to sit, I’ll let you know.”

Lea nodded and moved to keep moving the way you’d been heading. Rounding back to where you’d come in, the short hallway back to the elevator brought with it an agonizingly slow wait for it to arrive, unlike the last couple times you’d taken it today.

Lea checked her little tablet, muttering something about wondering if a shipment had arrived and was occupying the elevator, when the stabbing pain hit your left arm. You were able to bite back a reaction to the first couple pins and needles, but Lea seemed to catch onto your distress by the time the pain had begun to hit fully. “What’s the pain at,” she asked objectively as she stepped away from the chair she’d been accompanying the entire time, and to your front, where she pulled down the zipper on your jumpsuit to about your sternum, and pulled back the fabric so she could get a clean shot at the nerve where medics had put the blocker before.

“Fuck,” was all you could get from between your gritted teeth.

You hardly registered that she’d had taken the syringe Margie gave her out of her pocket, pulled the cap off with her teeth, and had stuck you, over the pain. The white hot searing pain retreated into pins and needles, then emptiness once more, and it wasn’t until then that you could think again. “Could—I, have.. the..” youtried to say between breaths in a small voice. Lea was quick to figure out what you wanted, and moved the chair over for you to sit in. You did so, gratefully, moving slowly. “Thank you,” you breathed, trying to catch your breath.

“Well, that’s a good enough baseline for that, I think!” she declared, moving to cap the syringe so she could put it back into her pocket and then pulled out her little tablet and began to tap around on it. “Definitely raw nerve tissue, definitely need to stay on the nerve block until that gets fixed.”

You slumped into the chair unceremoniously, mentally declaring that they’d have to dump you out of the chair to make you leave it. Everything hurt now, and even vocally replying to anything Lea felt like you didn’t have the energy to do, so you didn’t.

“Hopefully Margie and Caleb have found something that they can do about that, in the time we’ve been gone,” she said, making a relieved cheer when the elevator door finally opened. She had to wait though, as several occupants had to disembark before your group could get on.

Exhausted, you didn’t catch much of the trip back to the medical center, and it wasn’t until Lea roused you that you even registered that you were back in the exam room.

“He was doing so well, I really thought he was going to make it back to the center under his own power; if it hadn’t been for the nerve block wearing off, he would’ve,” Lea said to the other medics, who, as you came-to, you noticed were also right in front of you.

Margie was still sitting on zer chair and was studying you scrupulously. Caleb was typing on his tablet once again, taking notes. “How’re you feeling?” zhe asked.

It was hard to reply, and at first, all you gave zer was a sigh. “Tired,” you managed to slur out.

Zhe nodded. “I can see that. You were so full of energy until that blocker wore off; that has to be some awful pain, huh?”

It took all your focus to nod even a little.

“Want a little pick-me-up? Margie special,” zhe said wryly.

You weren’t sure if your face was making the questioning brow furrow you wanted it to.

Zhe chuckled. “You look like you need it. Hold tight.” Zhe rolled away with the tell-tale clatter of metal wheels on the bulkhead.

You managed to look to Lea and Caleb, and this time you think that your face had the questioning expression you were trying to make. Lea chuckled and said, “Zhe’s got a special concoction for an energy boost.”

“It’s gotten us through some long nights,” Caleb commented. “What do you think, Lea, think we’ll need to keep him over night?”

“If Margie’s pick-me-up doesn’t get him back up and running, probably. Otherwise, I actually think with a med refresh he’ll be just fine to sleep in his own bed tonight,” she replied, giving you a smile.

Margie rolled back shortly after holding a syringe, and moved to pinch some of the skin on your forearm. “It’ll go right under the skin and absorb pretty quickly. Little caffeine, little electrolytes, little bit of a secret sauce—” zhe gave you a stick that finally registered in your brain, being somewhere you usually didn’t get poked in. Zhe slowly pushed on the plunger, and it smarted and felt weird being injected; once zhe was done, zhe withdrew the needle and gave your arm a pat. “There. Couple minutes, and you’ll be running from one end of the ring to the other, promise.”

You managed to give zer a single breath of a chuckle as zhe rolled away again.

But, over the couple minutes she promised, you did seem to get some energy back. You shook the fog out of your head carefully, and winced gently as your brain began to process pain again. You moved your hand to scrub at the good side of your face—just now realizing that you’d been out and about without bandages on your graft. That had to have been a sight to see—a fucking ugly one.

“How’re you feeling?” Lea asked.

It was getting a little tiring being asked that. “Like a forklift hit me,” you grumbled.

She chuckled. “Well, you can make a sentence, so I’d say that’s another win for Margie’s pick-me-up.”

“Then backed up, and ran me over,” you continued.

You got a chuckle out of Caleb. “Joking is a good sign. What’s your pain level at now,” Lea asked between giggles.

You took a deep sigh as you took inventory. “It’s… hard to tell what’s pain, and what’s exhaustion, right now,” you said.

“Take your time. The cocktail may not have totally kicked in yet, too.”

You moved to sit up straighter in the chair, which definitely helped put some of the pain points into perspective. “It’s.. livable. Everything hurts but, if I didn’t get the general pain meds, I think I’d live.”

“What hurts the most?” Lea asked as Caleb tapped away on the tablet.

“The, uh, bruised lung. My thigh. The grafts,” you rattled off as you tried to focus on where the pain was.

“Anything internal? Any of the locations we found the anomalous growths?”

You tried hard to think about where those locations were, and focus on anything, but there just wasn’t anything bothering you. “Not that I can feel, no.”

“That’s promising,” Margie said as zhe rolled back over. “Little more awake now?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you gave zer a chuckle.

Margie sat forward with zer elbows on zer knees, then looked to Lea. “I want to keep him over night. I want to monitor his pain level, without general pain meds. Are you up to that?” zhe asked you.

You sighed. “Sure,” you said, defeatedly.

“It’s up to you if you want to,” zhe reinforced.

“I—I know. But, I also want to know if I can go without them.”

“This isn’t about how stoic you are, it’s about how bad your injuries are. Especially with this growth shit, we don’t know if that’s hurting you or not. Pain meds are easy to synthesize, so you’re not wasting resources, either. Understand?” Margie said with a serious tone, giving you an equally serious look.

Oh… You nodded meekly.

“The body heals better when it’s not in pain, so once we get a good base line, you’ll definitely get more, okay?”

You nodded. “Any… any decisions on what to do about my arm?”

Zhe sat upright in zer chair. “Not yet. I’m in between the two options that Tanner mentioned you two talked about in your file. I don’t want to go and cut the nerve to your arm in case that fucks up your ability to tell when there’s actual pain and damage in that limb, but I’m also uncertain that without removing more of the limb, that we’d be able to completely excise the raw nerve tissue. We can do that, but if we do, and that doesn’t fix it, then you’ll have to go through not just another surgery, but more down time, more nerve block, more pain… It’s a tough decision. What do you think?”

You sat with that for a while. “How.. much more of the limb? It’s, not doing anything being there like it is. Can’t I just say, take the whole thing off? Would that be enough?”

Zhe rolled that over in zer brain, you could see the gears turning. Zhe turned and rolled back over to the computer and the wall where the scan was projected earlier, and turned the projection back on. Zhe studied it for a good minute or two, then made a thinking motion with zer head. “Yeah. I can see if we took the rest of the remainder off, probably leaving the ball joint, that would remove any remaining scanable anomaly A tissue. But, I want to hazard, that because we don’t know much about the anomaly, that if we did that, we don’t know if it would truly end the pain. While I don’t see any more anomalous tissue that far up, the simple fact of we don’t know makes it tough to give a solid estimate.” Zhe turned to you to see your face.

You took a deep, steadying breath. “I’d say just, take the whole thing. It’s not doing me any good as it is, is it?”

Zhe nodded. “Let’s plan for that in a couple days, then. I want your baseline established so I know that you’d be good for another major surgery so soon. Probably best to keep you here until then, now that I think about it; wouldn’t have to teach you how to administer the nerve block yourself, or need you to come back every 9 hours to have it re-administered.”

You nodded quietly. That made sense, but being honest with yourself, you had really wanted to see what the apartment was all about, so that was disappointing to agree with.

Margie rolled back over in zer chair, and looked over at Caleb and Lea. “I can get him settled in to one of the rooms if you two wanted to head off to other tasks.”

Lea nodded. “You know where I’ll be if you need me,” she said to zer, then gave you a parting wave before heading off. “Rest easy!”

“I’ll keep looking over those scans, see if there isn’t anything we missed,” Caleb said to Margie. Zhe nodded to him as he walked of.

Zhe looked back to you, “You look like you would love a shower. With wounds like yours, you’ve probably endured a lot of cloth baths.”

You lit up at zer words. “I would kill for a shower.” Why the fuck did you say it like that? Zhe chuckled at your immediate reaction, though. The thought of showering also made you think of an important question; “Is there water rationing?”

Zhe gave a nod. “You get 10 minutes of shower water each day; there’s a timer in your apartment’s shower stall that lets you know how much you have left, so if you’re quick, you could even get two in. We have a laxer restriction here since folks who have to stay here tend to have more complex bathing needs, which, you definitely do, so before we get you settled into your room for your stay, we can get you in the shower. Only, though,” zhe stopped you before you could get too excited, “if you promise to be super careful, and extremely delicate with those grafts. If you kill one of your grafts because I let you have a shower before you were completely ready, you’ll have to answer to me, got it?”

You nodded sheepishly.

Movement from the other side of the room caught your attention. Dr. Beckett stepped up from where he’d been sitting previously—you’d been so out of it when you got back, you didn’t even realize he’d returned to where he’d been before your walk.

“Before you run off to do so, let’s schedule to meet,” he said. Oh, right. You nodded, and he pulled up his tablet. “Sleepcycle starts at 2200, and the wake cycle at 800. I can stop by at 1000 to ensure that you’re awake and any waking duties by the medics have been finished.”

“That sounds good,” you looked to Margie, who also nodded.

“I do want to bring something to attention before I head out; your anti-psychotic medication.. Tanner put in your file that it is of the utmost priority that you get that medication. So that Margie knows as well, what is the reason for that level of importance?” Dr. Beckett watched you carefully.

“Did… did ze not put the.. what happened in my file?”

“Ze did. I don’t know if Margie read it; could you please go over the incident?”

It was painful to remember, and your hand moved almost by itself to your neck protectively. “My.. med refresh had slipped, and I had a nightmare, that became real.” You watched Margie, who was watching you intently. “It sounds insane, but, something followed me off that moon. It—it’s… It’s me, but… what I think was supposed to have happened to me. It’s… missing the same arm, it, has my tattoo, but it’s… covered in this growth shit, head to toe, and it’s mouth is split open with teeth, like the—” you paused, unsure if the med team should know about the fish monster, “the… thing that actually almost killed me down there. In that nightmare—my nightmares usually are exactly what happened in that sub… But, in that nightmare, the hallucination monster that’s been menacing me changed the nightmare, and it was there instead of what almost killed me. It woke me, but, it was also in my room, choking me. It—it always disappears when someone other than me interacts with it, and the med team running in saved me.”

Margie looked to Dr. Beckett, who nodded to zer; zhe looked back at you. “How long has a dose of the anti-psychotic been working for you?”

“T—this happened after 12 hours since last dose,” you replied.

Zhe nodded. “Okay. We’ll have you on 10 hour doses.”

“I want to reinforce, doctor, that the anti-psychotic is not to stop him from self-harming,” Dr. Beckett said extremely pointedly. “He doesn’t have a history of it. With eye witness testimony, he’s telling the truth that something that was invisible to the eye-witnesses was physically effecting him from outside his control. We may not understand what that is, but with the evolving investigation into what was on that moon, we cannot rely on known conventions.”

Margie stared at him with a furrowed brow. “Doctor, how can a hallucination choke someone?”

“We don’t know. All we know, is that Simon has been through something we cannot understand, and we have to give him the benefit of the doubt that his hallucinations are quasi-physical. It is imperative that you accept that, especially now that one has threatened his life,” Dr. Becket said very seriously.

Zhe looked back at you, eyes trailing to your deformed arm. That seemed to put the pieces together in zer head for zer, and zhe nodded once in acknowledgment. “Yes, doctor,” zhe said. “Thank you for bringing that to my attention. Catch that, Caleb?”

Caleb appeared as though he was trying very hard to look like he not was paying attention to the conversation that was going on, but he turned at being called out to. “..Yes, doctor.”

“I’ll make sure Lea gets the note too,” Margie declared. Zhe turned to you. “I’m sorry that I assumed the worst of you; this is definitely outside of one’s normal expectations.”

You nodded, grateful for Dr. Beckett’s backing you. “When I’m on the anti-psychotic, I don’t see that thing. I’ve had a couple nightmares, but they were tame in comparison to that one.”

Margie nodded. “Good. Let’s hope that all of this will be solved with time, letting your brain heal from those concussions. Otherwise, you really are cursed.”

You cracked a smile at that. “I told you earlier…”

Dr. Beckett moved to offer you his hand to shake, and you did so. “We’ll get you fixed up, son. It’s the very least we can do.”

“Thank you, doctor,” you said, gratefully.

“1000 tomorrow, let me know if anything comes up,” he said with a gentle smile and moved to head out of the room.

“Let’s get you that shower then, then I can get you settled into a room here with us, then get you some food,” Margie said, nodding zer head toward the hall. “Think you can stand?”

Zer cocktail had continued to give you some energy, but you made an uncertain sound in reply to zer question. You tested your legs a bit before moving to push yourself up off the chair—it was uneasy first motion to get upright, but although Margie stood from zer chair for the first time since you’d seen zer in case you needed help, you managed to stay steady on your feet once up. After making sure you were stable, zhe moved to grab your satchel from where you’d set it earlier, and motioned for you to follow her.

A knock at your room’s door woke you. Margie had opted to leave your door cracked, just like Tanner had, just in case you needed assistance and the medical team needed to hear you, so while light filtered in from the hallway, it was partially blocked by the visitor.

“Wakey, wakey,” came Caleb’s voice shortly before he opened the door a bit wider.

You stuffed your face into your pillow to block out the higher level of light. “What’s wrong?” you grumbled into the pillow.

“It’s wake cycle—actually, it’s like, 0845. We opted to let you sleep while we got the day started, but now I’m here to get you up for check in and your appointment,” he said, the sound of a rolling chair scooting closer to your bed echoing in the room.

You let out a pathetic grumble. It’d been a long fucking time since you’d been expected to adhere to a sleep schedule, and it wasn't until this exact moment that you realized how nice that was.

“I’ve got your med refresh; surely you’re gonna want that without giving me much of a fight?’ he said with mirth. “Actually, seeing how well you’ve slept through the night is really promising, considering you’ve been off general pain meds for about 15 hours.”

“I can’t tell if I’m sleeping because it hurts, or it’s not hurting enough to get in the way of sleep,” you grumbled, moving to let the light into your closed eyes gently so they got used to it.

“Could be both, really. Do you remember Margie coming in to give you a new nerve block?”

You had to think about it. Grogginess blurred everything, but you had a vague recollection of at least being woken up in the middle of the night. “I think so? Maybe..”

“Zhe noted you weren’t super responsive, but, I’m told that’s also pretty normal for someone with your level of injuries, finally getting proper sleep. How’s your pain right now?”

With a huge sleepy sigh, you moved to rub sleep from your eyes and shove hair out of your face, still wincing against the light, but less so. It gave you a chance to focus on what hurt as consciousness returned to your brain. “Uhm.. The grafts. My ribs.” You winced further against the light as you registered that your head hurt, too. “My head?”

Caleb didn’t respond immediately, and you could hear him tapping on his tablet. “Head pain new?”

“Yeah,” you muttered.

“Could be that the pain meds have been taking care of the concussion pain pretty well, and now that you’ve been off them for a good length of time, your body’s beginning to register that pain,” Caleb offered. It sounded like he was typing that into his tablet too.

“Makes sense; sucks though,” you grumbled.

“How bad is the pain?”

Oh right, he’d asked how bad it hurt, and you rattled off body parts. Oops. You had to sit with that for a moment. “With the light, the headache is making it hard to open my eyes.. Grafts, feel tender but, I’m not moving much yet.. Breathing still hurts, but. It’s more irritating than limiting.”

“No nightmares?”

“No,” you replied, “thankfully just restful sleep.”

“Good,” you could hear Caleb tapping away on his tablet. “Think you can sit up to take your meds?”

You took a deep breath to sigh, ribs pinching at the pressure. You tenderly moved in the way you’d been practicing to prop yourself up on your elbow, then push yourself upright, without pulling too terribly on your grafts. Sitting up by itself wasn’t too bad, but it was really hard to force yourself to open your eyes. It didn’t seem as though Caleb had turned the light to the room on, and it was solely the light filtering in from the hallway that was bothering you. You offered your open palm, upright, to receive the tablets, and Caleb carefully dumped them there.

“If the light sensitivity doesn’t get any better with the pain meds kicking in, I’ll let Dr. Beckett know when he arrives that it’ll be an issue,” Caleb said as you threw the meds back, then he handed you a glass of water.

“Here’s hoping the meds deal with it,” you grumbled after downing half the glass to chase the tablets.

“I’ll note you’ve taken your meds for you, with a note that I’m doing so because of the light sensitivity,” he said, tapping on his tablet. You muttered him a thank you, and he nodded. “Most importantly, do you feel any weirdness, in any of those spots we found anomalous tissue? It doesn’t even have to be pain—stiffness, tickling, anything out of the ordinary?”

Trying to ignore the pain in your head was difficult, especially when it was exacerbated by attempting to focus. Steadying your breathing pattern, you moved your attention down through your body, not even trying to remember where the anomalies were, instead trying to just focus on feeling. After several long minutes of trying, you could only shake your head. “Nothing. No weird pulling, no pain, stiffness… Nothing. I feel, normal. Aside from the obvious painful spots.”

He took note on his tablet. “I don’t want to say that’s promising, because we don’t actually know—but at least it’s not hurting you, and that’s what we wanted to know. Now, Margie really wanted me to get a vial of blood from you for doing some testing; she’s concerned about how your liver’s doing after filtering that ocean blood, and getting a bunch of growths. Up to me taking some?”

You nodded. Actually, it was really weird that no one had taken blood for testing yet. You’d’ve thought that was the first thing any of them would do, after, y’know, being in a blood ocean. Caleb placed his tablet beside you on the bed, and rolled a bit closer to you. He pulled a syringe out of his pocket and uncapped it, and gestured for your arm; you held it out for his access. After feeling around a bit for a good spot, he gave you a stick, withdrew some blood, and removed the syringe.

“How’s your head and sight doing?” he asked as he kept one hand on where he’d stuck you with an even pressure.

You’d watched him just fine, and it seemed as though the light level had gotten to be tolerable, though the pain was taking it’s good-nature time receding. “It’s, better than before, but my head’s pretty tender still.”

He nodded. “While I was here, I was hoping to show you something—hopefully, you’ll be able to see.”

Your brow furrowed as he took his hand back to recap the syringe, and after sliding it into his pocket, he moved to pull down the collar on his own jumpsuit. Your eyes widened—scarred not unlike your own, but still with enough stark contrast of the thin black lines against pale skin, was the symbol extremely familiar to you; “Brother?”

He gave you a small, knowing smile, and offered his fist to you, just as he had when he had reassured you yesterday. You tapped his fist with yours, completing the gesture, and you both moved to clasp hands and pull each other into a tight hug—him doing so carefully so as not to bother your grafts.

As you parted, he moved to fix his collar. “When I saw the report come in that we were getting a Convict Realization Completionist named Simon, I, I knew it had to be you. You—you don’t remember me, I know you don’t—we were in different squadrons. But every Brother knows Simon.” You winced as you were sure he was going to call you by your moniker, but it didn’t come. “Took me a second to really recognize you when you walked in, what with your hair grown out and the.. uh, injuries, but, man, it was hard to not say something yesterday.”

“Still, it’s good to see a Brother,” you replied, unable to keep the relief and gratefulness out of your voice. “How long have you been here? How’d they get you?”

His gaze went distant for a second. “I was part of Terry’s squadron; our ship’s engine got shot inoperable about five years ago EIC after a skirmish. The Consolidation salvaged us along with the ship; we each went through Realization—rest is history.”

“I remember that ship going missing… I’m so sorry,” you breathed.

“Don’t be,” he said firmly. “After my Realization, I realized that what the Consolidation’s got going here is better than whatEden’s got going on. Call me a traitor, call me a turncoat… But… I think you see it too. I see it in your eyes—everything’s new, unfamiliar, but things are better too.”

You hesitated to nod. “I’d been… Disillusioned by Father’s teachings, for a while, so… Yeah… everything’s new, and so weird, but… I’m lucky to even be here.”

“What the fuck did they have you do for your Realization?” he asked, his voice lowered to just above a whisper. “An ocean made of highly carcinogenic human blood? The fuck did they have against you to make you do that?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I… I blew up Filament Station.”

Caleb sat back in shock. “No. That was you?”

“Our Brothers betrayed me, set me up. Me and several others. Ones I think were also disillusioned; our Brothers wanted us dead.”

He watched you in silence for several long moments. “Terry was on Filament Station when it went.” You must’ve made a face, because his tone backpedaled. “I’ve made peace with it—don’t feel too guilty, especially if you had already been set up. Shit happens.”

“There’s.. a lot that I’ve made peace with, in my life, but. Filament Station is one that I haven’t been able to yet. So fucking many innocent people… And our Brothers just, decided to kill them all…” Your voice came out rough as it choked on the grief.

“I’m sorry, Simon,” he said gently.

You tried to forget about Filament Station by turning the topic back to his question about the expedition. Neither subject was easy to think about, but one still felt like an open wound, and the other was at least a familiar stress. “But, uh… The COI apparently found this moon covered in oceans of blood, and found something interesting in one of them. They welded me into a tin can and told me to go take pictures of points of interests that scans found but couldn’t tell what they were. There was… there was a… monster, made up of researchers that had gone down there previously, that were mutated, and tried to kill me. It almost did—I should be dead right now… I… I don’t know how to explain what happened down there, Caleb. I…” You shook your head and took a deep sigh. “Like I said before, there’s something wrong with me, after being down there. And I don’t think it’s something that can just be healed…”

He watched you intensely, and took several moments to digest what you’d said before speaking—even then, he didn’t seem to know what to say, and his words came out uncertain. “We’ll figure it out. And, keep me updated on things, ‘kay? If they try to sweep you under a rug or something, I’m not gonna let that happen to my Brother. I’ve made some ins, in my time here—they don’t just let anyone be a medic, after all.”

You nodded quietly. “Thank you, Brother.” You both were quiet for a while, before you had the thought; “What of the others in your squadron?”

“Last I heard, Gregor’s doing security on Damsel Station, and Kora is stationed on a shipping freighter as their head mechanic.”

“Damsel Station,” you frowned. “That’s one Eden’s always had an eye on.”

“Yep. What better place to have a Son of Eden stationed, then? We know our own, and how best to defend against our own. Did Joseph ask you about being a consultant?” You nodded. “Vie asked Gregor too, but Gregor’s far more gruff than you are, that’s why he’s a security consultant.”

“Good to hear they’re still doing well,” you replied. “Do you consult for the council?”

“Not really; they’ve tried asking me things about Eden, but every time they have a question, it’s about something that was beyond my rank. You, though—I don’t think Joseph knows that vie’s got the insider knowledge sitting right here.”

You snorted. “I’m not that knowledgeable.”

“C’mon, Simon. Father’s favored? If anyone knows more about Eden than you, it’s only Father.” Your brows furrowed. Before you could counter argue that, the tablet beside you made a sound. Caleb reached to pick it up, tapped on the screen to activate it, read some info from it, and then tucked it under his arm. “If you ever need an ear, about anything, don’t hesitate to tell me. Dr. Beckett has lots of experience with Edenites, and he’s great for getting your brain out of Eden’s trenches, but he doesn’t get it in the same way that we get it. I know Eden always taught us that we’re the masters of our own emotions, but, I’ve learned here that it feels a lot better when you’re able to shoulder a mental load with someone else. Trust me.”

You watched him, skeptical, but eventually nodded. You trusted your Brothers, and especially one who’d been here for five years? It was hard to not trust him.

He moved to stand, rolling the chair away and back against the far wall so it was out of the way. “How’s your head? Think you can withstand me turning the lights on?”

You looked between him and the light pouring in from the hallway, trying to gauge what your pain level was at. “Sure, give it a try.”

He stepped over to the wall where the light controls were, and pulled the lights up slowly. You did wince when they were at full brightness, but it seemed the meds were kicking in. You grumbled, but waved your hand to him to brush him off any concern. He watched you as you watched him through squinted eyes. “Well, hopefully those meds kick in completely soon. I’ll still give Dr. Beckett some warning to your headache when he comes through. Also, want me to order you something to eat? It’ll probably arrive while the doc is here, but you gotta be starving. That or you can wait til after and head down to the Commons on your own.”

The Commons; Morrison said hy’d have your boots done today. “I, have to go down there anyway today, so I can wait.” Then a thought occurred to you. “Wait, can I just, leave the medical center?”

Caleb chuckled. “‘Course you can. Unless you’re gonna letyourself pass out from pain, Lea seems to think you’re perfectly capable of wandering around the station by yourself. Margie wants to keep you overnight for observation and ease of medication access, so there’s no need to restrict your movements during the day. Just, if no one’s at the front desk, message one of us with your PII so we know you’re not here. And, really, feel free to message me if you need anything, ‘kay? I know it’s weird, but. You’re not on Eden anymore.”

You nodded. He turned to leave, but then you thought of something. “Actually, while I have you here…” He stopped and looked to you. “Can you… wait, let me get dressed, so you can help with my boots…?” It was embarrassing to ask, but it wasn’t going to get done any other way.

His eyes lit up in understanding. “Yeah, absolutely.”

You reached for your satchel and retrieved the second set of clothing from within, and began the slightly painstaking process of righting the jumpsuit and slipping it on correctly, often fighting the instinct to use your left hand, and the frustration that came with realizing it was missing and thus couldn’t help. You’d absolutely taken for granted having two hands, when you did… Caleb watched from the doorway, and you could see he would tense up to stop himself every so often when you struggled; you were incredibly grateful for his self control—it helped you feel normal to do it by yourself, even if you struggled. With garments on, you slipped your boots on, and were at least able to tighten them yourself; then, you looked up to Caleb.

He dutifully wandered over and sat on his heels in front of you, neatly tying the laces after making sure they hadn't loosened after you handed them off. Once done, he stood, and offered you his fist.

You tapped it with yours reflexively, but followed it this time with a chuckle. “How do you still remember that old gesture?” you had to ask.

“Got you to remember it too, didn’t I? Once a Son, always a Brother,” he replied, giving you a casual wave as he headed out of the room. His boot steps didn’t go very far before they came back, though, and he was peeking his head into the room again. “Let me know when you’re going to head to the Commons, actually. I’ll take my first meal break to join you—I can show you how to order food, and all that, then. I’ll bring down a new nerve block then too, since that’s around about when you’ll need it next.”

“Will do; thank you, Brother,” you gave him a grateful smile.

This time, when he disappeared from the doorway, he actually headed down the hall.

Alone with your thoughts, they quickly became overwhelming—you were free, though you knew you had an obligation soon, and you had to swallow the eagerness to just get up and leave. Eager to see Morrison, eager to get something to eat—hell, even learn what sort of different things the COI had than Eden. Unease crept in through the eagerness as you had to remind yourself that the obligation was seeing Dr. Beckett; focus on all the new was beginning to overcome the memories of old, especially with the help of the anti-psychotics, and it worried you what would be dragged up by speaking with him. That fear did tamp down the urge to get up and leave, and put things back into perspective for you.

You reached for your little tablet, and it lit up in greeting when you did. The clock on it’s face said 0926. You sighed at the wait ahead of you, alone with your thoughts.

You tapped around on the little tablet, trying to occupy your mind with something other than the wait. Seeing the messaging program reminded you, Joseph asked you to keep vir updated. Though you were sure that Margie had to have already, you felt a sense of duty to make certain that vie knew about the decisions made yesterday. You tapped into the program, and just as Joseph had said, vir contact information was already loaded into the program. The message history was empty, but the entry field was receptive.

When you tapped into the entry field, a digital keyboard popped up; reflexively, you moved to balance the little tablet between both hands and—fuck. You couldn’t supress a growl at the realization, then sighed in frustration—the little tablet’s size was perfect to hold in one hand, but not to type with one hand, and though you tried multiple configurations of it sitting in your hand so you had freedom of movement for your thumb to tap the letters, you just weren't able to balance it and type. You had to set it down on your leg to type, and while that worked, it wasn't going to be a long-term solution. This was going to be agonizingly slow.Just another thing to try and figure out…

“Hello,” you started in the entry field. “Checking in to see if Margie followed up with you on some of the decisions we made yesterday,” you sent.

You watched the chat history for a few minutes, and just as you were sure that vie wasn’t going to respond, the little machine made a sound. “Yes, zhe said that zhe was keeping you for a couple days for ease of medication dispensing, but that you were otherwise stunningly fit for the state of your scan!”

You had to smile a bit at that. “Did zhe mention we decided to take the rest of that arm off tomorrow?”

“Zhe had not! Why, pray tell?”

“The end of it is raw nerve tissue, down into the bone. I need nerve block to stop the pain from it. Since it’s not doing me any good, I told zer to take the whole thing.”

“I feel like this is something zhe should have brought to my attention, thank you for telling me! I see now why zhe wanted to keep you. Zhe made it sound as though you’re fit to be out and about by yourself though; do you think you’re fit to attend your first integration class? I think I could fit that in today.”

Vie were really pushing that, weren’t vie? “Yes.”

“Very good! I’ll get that set up for you and send your PII the details. We’ll plan for the subsequent classes to be after your surgery then, I’ll bend the week’s time frame requirement for those due to your circumstances. Did you have any other questions or updates for me?”

You thought about vir question for a few moments. “Thank you, magister. I do, sort of. This thing is Really hard to use one-handed… Do you know of any modifications that can be done to it to help?”

It took a few minutes for vir response to come back. “I’m so sorry, Simon, I don’t. Ask Morrison though, if anyone is creative enough to come up with something, it’ll be hymn, or hy’ll know someone who can! If you find someone else who is able to provide you a solution, tell them the charge is on me. Show them this message as binding contract if they give you any trouble about it.”

Vir words made you wonder what the “charge” even was. “Will do, thank you, magister.”

You tapped out of the messaging program and glanced at the clock on the screen—0939.

You sighed and bit the inside of your lip, looking at the door to your room. While there was the knowledge of freedom, and the eagerness behind it, there was also the apprehension of habit. Between the over 1000 sleep cycles in the COI’s prison, then being physically restrained by healing wounds and needing assistance since the expedition, no part of being with the COI had yet allowed your brain to feel like you were an independent person. It was very difficult for one person, even a Brother, telling you that you were free to move about, to let your brain feel like it had permission. Hell, even remembering Joseph telling you that you were free didn’t help much.

So you sat for multiple minutes, paralyzed by the dehumanized part of you. The rational part of your brain fought with it, though—you knew where the bathroom was, and Caleb had said you’re free to wander around. Would a Brother really lie to you to get you into trouble? And really, who was the COI to tell you that you couldn’t use the bathroom.

Defiant of your own brain, you shoved the little tablet into your pocket and gingerly stood, then headed down to the bathroom you’d been in the night before.

Doctor Beckett was sitting in your room when you returned. “Oh, doctor—I’m sorry,” you stammered when you registered what was going on.

He had been looking to the door watching for you from his perch on the rolling chair, and gave a gentle smile at your apology. “You’re quite alright, I’m early.”

You sheepishly reached into your pocket to check the time on your little tablet as you moved to sit back on your bed—0954. You hadn't thought you’d been away that long…

“Caleb mentioned you had a new headache; how is that doing with pain meds?” he asked as you sat down.

You nodded; “It’s better than when I woke up. It still hurts, but, not to the extent of being light sensitive anymore, at least.”

“Good, good. He noted that he theorized it’s due to the concussions, so do let me know if it begins to get worse; I don’t want to exacerbate it, and we can always pick up a discussion another day,” he said with a gentle tone.

You nodded quietly, watching him with apprehension at your tardiness and the appearance that gave you.

He caught onto that. “What’s on your mind, Simon?”

You thought about your words carefully—even remembering Caleb’s words that Dr. Beckett was experienced with Edenites, it was hard to put your train of thought into words for someone else to understand. “I’m. Not used to being given freedom of movement, anymore.. And to, not be present when someone I have an obligation to arrives is.. against how I was raised.”

That seemed to put quite a bit of it into perspective for him, though, and though he moved to tap on the tablet in his lap, he nodded confirmingly. “I’m sure you had good reason to be out of the room,” he said, his tone observant with not even a hint of accusation. “Especially in that I was the offender, in being early, do try and take this as an exercise in quashing that instinct.”

You chewed on that for several moments before nodding.

“You said, ‘anymore’, as a qualifier to not being given freedom of movement. I can surmise you mean that to be having been imprisoned, and while I absolutely do not want to ignore the impact that has had on your mental health, I want to gain a baseline understanding of, how much freedom of movement did you have, on Eden?” he asked, typing for the majority of his question, but looking up to you by the time his question ended.

You actually had to think about that. At first, it seemed like an easy answer, but the more you thought about it, the more you realized how restricted your movements had been. Then, you realized, he was really asking, who were you, to Eden? You set your jaw, your brow furrowing as you thought. “I, was expected to be at the beck and call of Father at a moment’s notice. From… what I know about other folks who were not Sons, we didn’t have daily itineraries down to the hour, but instead expectations of when we would eat, when we would sleep, when we would perform duties—if Father didn’t specifically call upon us.”

“How often was that?” the doctor asked, continuing to take notes.

You could only slowly shake your head, your memories taking your brain far away from the present as you tried to think of any kind of pattern. “For us in general, it could be a few times a week. For me… If I wasn't tasked to supervise something specific that took priority, I was expected to be within earshot of him.”

He typed. “And, if you had to leave his immediate vicinity, without being given another task, were you allowed to?”

“With his acknowledgment.”

As the doctor typed, you realized how strict that was. You’d thought that you had it pretty easy all your life, but thinking on it now, realizing how nice it’d been on the vehicle transport in their very private med bay, how little observation and expectation had been placed upon you, it was a little dizzying. “Oh,” you hardly realized you even breathed the word.

Dr. Beckett looked up to you from his tablet. “Were you visually supervised throughout the day?”

You nodded. “Yeah, uh. The private sectors didn’t have security cameras, but the rest of the station did.”

He tapped on his tablet. “You’re an astute fellow—extremely so—so I’m sure that you’ve put together some of the pieces of why I’m asking you this. And I want to allay your fears a bit; the Consolidation does not utilize security cameras, for the most part. Your PII can be used to track and locate you, but your actions are not recorded, and Consolidation security doesn’t make it a habit of keeping record of it’s members’ movements—unless there is an active investigation into the individual. That’s quite rare though. You’ve had an extremely surveiled life, paired with high expectations of you—I can absolutely see why you’re struggling with that instinct of being present and presentable at all moments.”

At the mention of your little tablet, you slipped your hand into your pocket to touch it, then fiddled absentmindedly with it in thought at the doctor’s words. That was why the vehicle transport ship felt so different, you were truly by yourself on that ship. Not alone, but, had privacy. That was a very new phenomena to feel.

“It will take some getting used to, but, the other Edenites I’ve worked with have expressed similar stresses to yours, and I’ve seen great improvement in their mental health, simply from being here and outside that stressful hierarchy,” he gave you a gentle smile.

“How does the COI not have security cameras?” you asked smally, unable to get past that thought process.

“Oh, the stations and transports have cameras, but shortly after the Quiet Rapture, it was deemed a waste of resources to be constantly recording. They’re deactivated until issues arise.”

Your face went distant as you thought about that. That was how so many raids that had been deemed “difficult” had gone so smoothly. “Sorry, that… makes a lot of sense for several memories.”

He gave you a knowing smile, and you returned a sheepish look. “It’s in the past, now,” he reassured.

“That’s… I don’t understand that,” you frowned. “The, ‘it’s in the past’, bit. How does any of what we’ve done get swept under the rug by doing a favor for the COI?”

“Survival is bigger than any one of us. I’m sure you’ve heard that motto many times by now, but it’s one we live by because it’s true. We can't change what’s in the past, especially not losing members to skirmishes with Eden, but by giving folks such as yourself a chance to disengage from the culture you lived in, and find a better purpose with the Consolidation, we only have that much to gain. Giving you folks the ability to be forgiven for what sounds like tasks you were entirely forced into doing, means that we gain new, powerful allies. That is a general belief held throughout the Consolidation; Realized Edenites, in general, while rough around the edges, are hard working and tough folks, we’ve found, and grateful for the opportunities we give you—especially without judgment for your pasts,” he explained with a poignant but gentle tone.

You bit the inside of your cheek, hard, but nodded as you digested his words. Eventually, you asked; “How does the death of 62 members of the COI get swept under the rug by me being put into a tin can and tortured, almost to death, then left to die?”

The way you phrased it seemed to take the doctor off guard, and he had to steady himself.

“How do you justify then fixing me up just to have one one-armed mass-murderer as a replacement. For sixty-two people? Because I was retrieved on accident?”

He studied you quietly, seeming to be very aware of how true your words were, and trying to find words to even begin to reply. “Filament Station is in the past.” He said steadily and pointedly, emphasizing his words carefully. “And, you alone can’t replace 62 talented hands, we don’t expect that—but, the actions you took during your Realization show that you are an incredibly dependable person. You were put in a horrifying position, and still made the difficult and active choice to better those who put you there, whether you could be saved or not. That is an extremely selfless act that we cannot overlook, nor understate. And, that choice is showing promise in making up the difference between one alive person, and 62 lost ones, as well. I’ve not been apprised of the contents of the findings, but, the council is abuzz right now.” His tone turned gentle. “What happened to you is unforgivable, and there’s no real repayment for it—we’ll be in your debt for the rest of your life, I can promise that.”

Tears came to your eyes and you had to look away from him.

“I know it’s not much, not in comparison to everything that happened, but I’m sorry Simon. We failed you. Responsible for Filament Station or not, you didn’t deserve what you went through,” he said sincerely.

You cried quietly for several long minutes. After a few minutes, you could hear the doctor tapping on his tablet, likely unsure what more he could say.

Eventually, he did speak up. “Do you think you’d be willing to see me again tomorrow? Part of that debt we owe you is me helping you, and regardless of having a debt or not, I want to help you. You deserve it.”

You were quiet for several more minutes, wiping your eyes and trying to control the tear flow, before you nodded. As painful as it was, it felt good to get the frustration out, and he gave you several important revelations to think about. And it felt good to finally be apologized to, acknowledged that what happened was fucked up. “Thank you, doctor… That’s all I’ve really wanted,” you said, voice choked by tears.

“You deserve so much more than just an apology, Simon. I hope we’re able to give you a life you enjoy,” he said, moving to stand. You watched him, teary-eyed, as he stood before you. “Would you like a hug, son?”

You thought back to the one Caleb gave you earlier—it’d been all too short, and riddled with the pain you were in. You nodded quietly—it’d been far too long since you’d had one before that.

Dr. Beckett moved to wrap his free arm around the back of your neck, being careful with where your grafts were, and you wrapped your arm around his back. He was a delicate person, and even in your weakened state from healing, it felt like you could crush him if you truly tried. It was so different than hugging one of your Brothers, but itstill was exactly what you needed.

When he parted from you, you had to ask; “Do you call me ‘son’ on purpose…?”

He gave a gentle, knowing smile. “Yes. It was on accident, when I first started seeing your Brothers, but over time, it seemed to really help them. It’s been something I’ve continued doing on purpose, since.” You nodded, that made sense. “Same time tomorrow, or would you like more time to wake up, perhaps get something to eat before I see you?”

Your head hurt more from crying, and that made it harder to think. “Um. Actually, I need to have surgery tomorrow. I, don’t know how long that, takes.”

He nodded. “Let’s schedule for overmorrow then. Whenever you have a chance tomorrow, send me a message, and we can work it out. Good luck with the surgery.”

You nodded and gave him a thanks, and he gave you a parting wave as he headed out, which you returned; once again, you were left with your thoughts.

The doctor’s apology hit harder than you’d expected it to. Thinking back, Joseph had apologized on behalf of the whole of the COI, but for some reason, it hadn’t registered to the same degree. It took every ounce of effort in your body not to start crying again, and you had to take several deep breaths to get yourself stable again.

You closed your eyes and let yourself focus on breathing. The headache seemed to be subsiding as the meds worked on it, and taking inventory of yourself reflexively reminded you that Caleb had offered to bring you new nerve block after your meeting. Sighing, you reached to pull the little tablet out of your pocket. At least that would give you something else to focus on.

Tapping on the messaging program, you found his name in the contact list and tapped on it. The message history was empty too—did everyone you have contact with get added to that list? Or was it just folks that Joseph knew you were going to be working with that got added? Same as messaging earlier, you placed the little machine on your leg to type; “I’m done with my meeting.”

It took a minute for a message to come through, “Gotcha. Gimme 10 minutes.”

You slipped the little tablet back into your pocket and settled in to sit alone with your thoughts yet again. What was the odds that one of the medical team was a Brother, you had to wonder. Surely you hadn’t been brought here on purpose for that reason? In fact, it made you wonder just how many other Edenites were part of the COI now. Trying very hard not to make your head hurt, you tried to think of how many of Eden’s ships had gone missing over the years. It had been a small but not insignificant number—considering that any number of missing ships, resources, and people was significant.

“Hey.”

Caleb’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts—at some point, you’d closed your eyes to think easier without the visual input, and you opened them to look to him. He stood in the doorway to your room, but moved into the room once you saw him.

“I didn’t take that much time that you needed a nap between messaging and me showing up, did I?” he asked jokingly.

You gave him a small, wry smile. “Nah, my head just hurts still. ‘n’, I was thinking.”

“You, thinking? That’s dangerous,” he joked.

You snorted. “How many Edenites are part of the COI now?” you asked him.

He seemed taken off guard by the question. “I dunno. I haven’t thought to count, or ask.”

“Just, seems like really long odds that a Brother would be my medic.”

He made an expression that said he hadn’t thought of that before. “I’m glad it worked out like that though; I’m definitely glad to see you, and it was hard being new here with no one to talk to about it who understood, so I’m glad I can be here to help you.”

You gave him another small smile. He had a tablet under his arm, and a syringe in that hand; you nodded to it, and that seemed to remind him of why he was there.

“Oh, right. Here, let’s do that nerve block before the current one wears off,” he said, moving to take the tablet from under his arm, and set it on the bed beside you.

As he did so and moved to uncap the syringe, you pulled the zipper down on your jumpsuit so he could have access to the nerve, and moved to restrain your hair so it was out of the way. He moved the shoulder of your jumpsuit aside and gave you the stick; when he removed the syringe and moved away, you replaced the fabric and zipped your jumpsuit back up.

“Got the results back for your liver test,” he said as he recapped the syringe. “Looks like it’s functioning at only a marginally diminished rate—enough that it doesn’t seem like it would be a concern even in the long term. I’m wondering if that anomalous tissue patched up any damage that it did itself.”

“That sounds good?”

“We’ll have to do some more tests in the future just to monitor, but the initial test is promising.”

You watched him quietly, a thought coming to your head. “What did you have to do for your Realization?”

He blinked, obviously not having been expecting that question. He replied after he registered what you’d asked him; “Oh. They caught wind that I had medical training, so they tossed me in medic rotation with a shadow to see what I knew. It was as much my questionnaire as it was my Realization,” he chuckled. “I heard they made Gregor scrub Damsel Station top to bottom for his Realization, and I know Kora was tasked to rebuild several booster engines from scratch, so I think I got the easy way out.”

“Hey, are you okay?” You didn’t even realize that you’d gotten lost in thought. You looked to him, and he looked concerned. “You’ll have to tell me what happened, someday,” he said gently, probably guessing that you were thinking about your own Realization, based on you asking about his.

You shook your head slowly. “I don’t… I don’t even know what happened, Caleb.”

He reached out an open palm to you after a few quiet moments. “Well, once you know, you can tell me. For now, why don’t we go get lunch, huh?”

That definitely sounded much better than wallowing in the memories, and as much as your broken brain wanted you to, you defiantly pushed past the instinct and took Caleb’s hand. He stood his ground as you used his assistance to pull yourself to your feet, then also as you gave him the Brothers’ customary shoulder bump with hands still clasped. He grinned as you parted. “Haven’t lost that one either,” he said as he moved to grab the tablet he placed on the bed.

“I’m surprised you still remember,” you snarked.

“Once a Son, always a Brother,” he repeated with mirth, moving to head out of the room.

You dutifully followed after him, not sure where the front entrance was from your room.

“I saw in your file you’ve been having ambulation issues, not that I’m surprised with how long you’ve been down ‘n out with all your injuries, so let me know if you need me to slow down, or to take a break, ‘kay?” he offered, looking over his shoulder to you as he headed through the winding hallways.

“Will do,” you replied, able to keep up with his stride without too much trouble.

He stopped at the front desk where Lea was sitting, and placed his tablet on the desk near her, along with the empty syringe. “We’re heading out to lunch,” he said as she turned to look to you both.

She gave you both a smile, then it fell when she thought of something, and pointed to you; “Nerve block?”

“Just refreshed,” you gave her a smile.

She nodded and returned it. She looked as though she was going to say something, but before she could, Caleb stopped cold in the walkway, causing you to nearly run in to him. Before you could say anything about it, he looked to you, “Oh, hey you should track that.”

You blinked at him in confusion.

“Oh, did you not record your nerve block administration?” came Lea’s voice from behind you.

“Oh,” you replied with new understanding, and moved to grab your little tablet from your pocket. “Right, that.. needs to be done,” you muttered without much thought as you focused on tapping over to the med tracking program to put in the med and time.

“Hey, you seem like your head’s not in a great way, so it’s understandable,” Caleb said gently.

You nodded quietly as you narrowed your focus on your task, trying hard not to let your thoughts wander back to your meeting with the doctor. Finishing your task, you nodded your head toward the door. Caleb gave you a small smile and a nod, then moved to keep going.

“Enjoy lunch!” Lea called after you. You both gave her a casual parting wave.

Heading out of the medical center, you moved to step in stride with Caleb; his stride was testing your endurance, but you felt it necessary to push yourself—you’d only get stronger in doing so.

“You said you had to go down to the commons for something, what was it?” he asked curiously.

“Morrison is supposed to have a pair of boots for me that I’ll be able to put on by myself,” you replied, your ribs pinching at the rate of breath needed to keep the pace—you ignored it.

“Oh, that’s excellent,” he replied with a light tone. “Hy’s a good fellow, even if hy’s got eccentric taste.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Hys favorite way to be paid for hys services is with a doughnut from the Bakery stall.” He caught your confused look. “You gotta be up and waiting in line at like, 0600 to even get one, and if you give it to someone else, you gotta count it against yourmacros for the day.”

“What?”

“Yeah!” he chuckled. “That’s how payment is around here. Either you trade doing menial labor for something, or caloric intake. Traders say they’ll take salvage they’re interested in, but so few folk get the opportunity to get salvage that it’s nigh impossible to take them up on that offer. The only one who could ever actually trade for things is Alyx, the one who runs the Home Hydroponics stall.”

Your head started to swim at all the information. “Okay wait, slow down.” Caleb did start to slow down his walking pace, until you outpaced him and he realized that wasn’t what you meant. “First and foremost, what the fuck is a doughnut.”

He laughed. “They’re legendary, everyone loves them, but they’re incredibly limited in how many the Bakery can make a day. It’s a recipe from the before times—it’s potatoes and cereal flour made into a rounded shape, then put in a hotbox ‘till they get super soft and puffy. I’ve only gotten to have one, and it’s super worth it, but also not at the same time.”

That did sound really interesting.“And, home hydroponics??”

“Oh, yeah! Alyx is one of the Gardeners for the station, and she offers folks the materials to be able to have small, personalhydroponics systems in their apartments. She’s not available all the time, because she’s a Gardener, but when her stall is open, it’s super busy. She rescues plants that aren’t strong enough to survive production for food for the station, and even has seeds of non-edible plants that are good for oxygen production. She happily teaches folks how to harvest seeds from their home plants to trade her. Every plant that lives benefits the station, she says, but doesn’t have enough materials to do any sort of major renovation of the station itself to plant more plants outside the agricultural ring, so she tries to get the inhabitants to grow some themselves. I’ve even heard her say she’s got schematics for building water recyclers with plants that one can put in their shower to get more shower water. It’s expensive as all fuck though.”

As you both arrived at the elevator, you watched him, stunned at what you were hearing. “Do you have plants in your apartment?”

“I do,” he smiled as he pushed the call button. “Because I’m a permanent resident of the station, I figured I probably should, since I don’t have to worry about getting someone to take care of them if I have to be deployed off-station. I have a couple non-edible plants that definitely freshen the air in the place, and a little one hat grows a bunch of little red edible fruits every few days. I trade Alyx the seeds from fruits that don’t get big enough to eat for fertilizer.”

“What the fuck, why didn’t Eden do something like that?” you asked rhetorically.

“I dunno, but, Bro, do I think they’d benefit from it,” he replied as the elevator arrived and the door slid open. He continued as he stepped inside and reached for the destination panel as you stepped in after, “But, I know that Alyx is constantly on thin ice with the council because of her stall. They think that she’s too generous with what she gives away, but she’s said that they’re being stingy, and that because she’s a Gardener, she knows the stock of the station, and knows the numbers of seeds she receives from folks who have home plants. We’re certainly not lacking for space or seeds, but I can see they might be concerned about the amount of water being used.”

You sat with that as the elevator moved. “So, I heard the fourth ring is referred to as the agricultural ring. The whole fourth ring is agricultural? I thought that Eden had the best hydroponics of all the remaining stations.”

“Hydroponics, sure, but Derin station is the agricultural station. Yeah, Ring 4 is wholly dedicated to it, and has tons of soil. Before the Quiet Rapture, the station was geared up to be a huge trade and supply stop between Mars and Earth, and according to the folks who’ve lived here since the before times, there were tons of shipments of plants, soil, water, everything the station would need to be self-sustaining for thousands of people. Apparently there was a whole seed vault stored here; rumor has it, there’s seeds still in it, that the council has deemed unusable because they’re not ‘right’ to use in our situation. I’m partial to believing it, because twice now since I’ve been here, we’ve had a completely new food pop up in the stalls. Sure, that might have come from a different station to supplement our crop rotation, but.” He shrugged as the elevator stopped and the door slid open.

“What the fuck,” you asked just above a mutter. “Was… was the Last Tree really the last tree?”

He shot you a glance as you both stepped out of the elevator. “I dunno, Simon. I’ve asked myself that a lot. Ring 4 isn’t open to non-Gardeners to visit, and if anywhere but Eden would have a tree, it’d be here.”

You stopped walking suddenly, halted by your thoughts, and he took a few steps before he noticed and stopped too. “Did they take your seed pendant?”

He blinked in confusion for a few moments until recollection lit up his eyes. “...Y’know, what, yeah, I remember that.”

Your expression grew dark. “I was told that ‘the council wants to start a garden of their own one day’, and that mine had been confiscated for that reason.”

Caleb blinked, his brow furrowing as he thought about that. “Well, maybe it’s true… And if there is a seed vault, I can see our seeds being added to it… But, they were already sprouted—they were already dead in that glass, and anyone who’s spent any time around seeds would see that. Sounds like whoever told you that was trying to provoke you.” He watched your expression, his becoming hard to read. “Hey, are you okay?”

You had to look away from him. “Did you hear the Last Tree died?”

“What?” he asked smally after attempting to digest that for a moment.

You nodded. “It was a husk, even before I got captured, and that was almost 3 years ago, EIC.”

“What happened?” he stepped toward you almost menacingly.

You shook your head. “I have no idea.” You looked to him—he looked distraught. If there was any one thing the two of you seemed to have ties to back on Eden, it was the Tree. “Salvations were still being performed, but at a slower rate, so I don’t know if the tree wasn’t getting the right amount of bodies, or if almost 15 years of nothing but human bodies poisoned it.”

Caleb shook his head like he was clearing a bad memory. “It.. probably was that last part. ‘We will become the soil’ is great in theory, but.. if it got nothing else, then it was slowly being starved…”

You were quiet for a few long moments. “That’s pretty ironic, considering that’s how Father ran the place.” After a few more moments, you spoke up, quietly; “Thank you, for… not calling me by my moniker.”

He straightened his posture. “You never seemed to like it, and I didn’t even spend that much time around you. Plus, it just seems to have a bad taste.”

“It fits my Realization task, though,” you said darkly.

He thought about that for a second and then snorted. “Sure does.” Eventually, he nodded back toward the way that you’d been traveling, then turned to keep walking that way—he probably didn’t have muchin the way of a response to that, and you didn’t blame him. You dutifully followed after him.

As you stepped back into the large space that made the Commons, it was easy to let the newness of the situation take priority over the recollection of the past. It was no less busy than it had been yesterday, despite the difference in hour you were present. Caleb’s stride slowed as he stepped closer to the stalls, his expression and head movements contemplative as it seemed as though he was studying the area. Though you kept an eye on him for any cues, you also got a better chance to study the area for yourself.

You’d been moving with purpose the day before, keeping your consciousness on your breathing and task, and that hadn't let you really take in the space. There was about two dozen alcoves along the outer perimeter of the Commons area, but less than a dozen were occupied; the others were either dark and empty, or completely sealed off with gates. That seemed to lend credence to the thought that this station was made to be a waypoint—it made you wonder what other types of stalls had been open in it’s heyday. There were six stalls that seemed dedicated to food, which seemed like a lot. The Bakery that Caleb had mentioned was the first in the row, and there was a pleasant heat that emanated from the stall as you wandered by it; the food smelled savory and enticing, and the display board of what the stall offered was perplexing—you’d never seen anything quite like some of the images depicted on it. Keeping up with Caleb didn’t allow you to study it too closely, though, and the next stall’s board displayed a variety of salads, with ingredients you didn’t recognize—other than leafy greens of some kind. He stopped in front of the next stall, and the warmth and smell wafting from the stall was delightful; the display board declared the stall as Forever Soups, and was decorated with images of soups and stews.

He gave you a slightly wry smile. “Dunno what they were feeding you on the transports, but I figured, something familiar might help ease you into life here.”

You replied with a more sincere smile. When was the last time you had soup? Both the prison and the tow ships’ rations had been a cereal mash and vitamins. The vehicle transport ship had beans and an oblong cereal you didn’t recognize, which based on what Margie had brought for you the night before, seemed to be the default meal.

There was a patron already waiting at the counter, and the proprietor was further back in the alcove at one of the several large pots that each sat over a contained fire—likely why the area was so warm. Caleb stepped over to the display board, and looked to you. “You should get your PII out, this is where you’re gonna need it—at least for a while until you have these figures memorized.”

You lifted an eyebrow at him, but reached into your pocket to pull out the little tablet. The patron at the counter gave a curious look over at your goings on.

Caleb gestured to the writing on the display board, which was easier to see once you stepped closer—it was small, hand-written in charcoal, so you hadn't realized previously that it was a list of macronutrients pertaining to the dish depicted. “This is what you input into your macro tracker when you get your food. Since every dish has different macros, you’ll need to choose carefully what you want versus what your body needs versus how many macros you’ve already intaken in a day.”

Choose… Want… “ Since the Quiet Rapture, none of us get a choice.” You watched him quietly, trying to even comprehend the concept of choosing something, anything, let alone food. Throughout your life, you were handed things, all decisions made for you. It was a little overwhelming to think of consciously picking something.

He continued, despite whether he caught your internal conflict or not, and gestured to one of the images on the board—these also looked hand-drawn. “If you hold your PII up against the picture, it’ll automatically import the macros, which can be super useful in the beginning, but eventually as you start to memorize them, it’s faster and easier for you to keep track in your brain what you need if you input them manually. The soup stall is a bit weird too, because each day the soups can be completely different; they add a little bit of everything to each pot that’s leftover from other stalls at the end of the day, so the macros can vary wildly—which is another reason why it’s easier to do your macros manually, if you’re really into getting soup every day.”

“Okay… I haven’t messed with that program yet,” you muttered, looking lost between the board and your little tablet. You knew where the program was though, and tapped over to it quickly, but the layout was wasn't exactly self explanatory.

Caleb stepped over beside you to look over your shoulder, then reached to tap on a symbol that looked like a person on your tablet’s screen. The screen produced a list of numbers accompanied by the names of nutrients. “This is your target goal, based on blood tests that’ve been run to find your metabolism and body composition needs. For you, specifically, this is going to change a lot over the next few months, what with you healing and your body needing different macros at different stages of healing, so don’t get too familiar with these numbers, and check this screen often. We’ll be running these numbers for you like, once a week to make sure they’re accurate.” He tapped on an icon that looked like a list, which took you back to the screen the program first presented you with. “When you tap on this plus sign, it’ll take you to the input screen. There, you can either scan the board, or input the macros manually.”

You nodded, seemed simple enough. You looked back to the display board, and the unfamiliarity of deciding settled into your chest again. There were so many words, ingredients you assumed, you didn’t recognize. It was going to be hard to choose anything by itself, let alone what you wanted—you might as well pick something for the macros at that point. “What.. would you suggest?” He was the one who had been here a while, and had suggested soup, after all.

“You’ll be the most familiar with what’s in the 3-bean mushroom. But if you’re feeling adventurous, the potato and leek is really good.”

Leek—you didn’t recognize that word. “What’s a leek?”

“Do you remember scallions? Those, really thin, green circles that some of the Kitchen folk were absolute shit at cutting so sometimes you’d get a whole mouthful of one at random?” You snorted and nodded vigorously—shit, that was something you hadn’t thought of in years. “They taste kinda like that. Way crunchier though, depending how long the veg has been in the broth cooking.”

“Huh,” you replied. “Sure, why not?”

He nodded and gestured to the board, “You’ll want to scan that then,” he said as he stepped up to the counter—the previous patron had left, and the proprietor was watching your goings on curiously in their stead. “How’s it going, Brady,” Caleb greeted as you searched the board for the item he described. “A potato leek, and a sweet potato curry please,” you heard him request as you found what you were looking for.

“It’s been a while since we had new folk,” you heard the new voice comment curiously as you held your little tablet up to the board, trying to figure out where it needed to be to—ah, there it went. It populated information on the screen that you glanced over as you stepped beside Caleb.

“It has. Remember to be patient with him,” Caleb called into the back of the alcove with mirth. “You remember when I was new, I know you do.” That earned a laugh from the proprietor, who was scooping soup from the pots into heartily large bowls that surprised you at the sheer size.

“What’s a curry?” you asked quietly, letting your little tablet slide back into your pocket.

“Fucking delicious is what it is. It hurts a bit to eat though, it makes your mouth burn,” he replied.

You looked at him with confusion, your brows furrowing.

“It’s so worth it, you’ll have to try it one day,” Caleb chuckled at your reaction. “It’s not as filling as some of the other offerings, because the ingredients are harder to grow, but it’s got a lot of macronutrients from the herbs it’s made with. It’s Brady’s specialty—she comes from a long line of folks who made it in the before times.”

“Chickpea, peppers, rice, and sweet potato,” Brady rattled off with a prideful tone as he came back to the counter. You didn’t recognize a word she just said, except for “and” and “potato”, and she chuckled, probably at the look on your face. As he set the bowls down on the counter, his eyes wandered and caught your missing arm. “Ah,” her eyebrows raised in recognition and he held up a finger in a “wait’ motion, then wandered over to a shelf deeper into the alcove. “Morrison gave us heads up that we had a new resident who had an upper limb deficiency. You must be Simon,” she said as he retrieved something from the shelf, and wandered back to the counter.

You couldn’t help but smile awkwardly. “I, guess my reputation precedes me?”

“Morrison’s a gossiper,” she replied placatingly. “The forewarning was helpful though, as I got a chance to think about how to help you overnight, just incase you came by—good thing I did,” he said with a light tone. She placed what he retrieved on the counter—it was, a towel? He lifted one of the bowls of soup and placed it on top of the towel. “The bowls are hot. Usually, folks can balance bowls by the top rim where it’s cooler to carry them to a seat, but that needs two hands. The towel provides a barrier between the heat and your skin—I use them all the time that way back here. I of course will need the towel back when you’re done, but you’re welcome to borrow one any time you stop by—just remind me, as when it gets busy I might forget.”

You gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Not a problem, happy to help,” he smiled.

Caleb moved to grab a pair of spoons from a display of them on the counter, and dropped one in each bowl, then reached to carefully take the one without the towel. “That’s all we need to do, Bro, really simple,” he said to you, then gave Brady a nod. “Thanks again, Brady.”

“Of course, enjoy!” she replied before moving off into the alcove.

You looked at the bowl with the towel, and did some calculations in your head—it’d been a while since you tried to pick up a bowl with one hand, but surely you still had it in your muscle memory somewhere.. Caleb stood by as you reached for it, carefully tipping it away from your hand so you could get your fingers under the bottom of the bowl beneath the towel, and hooked your thumb on the rim—which was difficult, given the sheer size of the bowl itself, a far more generous portion of food than you’d ever seen in your life. You did succeed in picking it up, and moved to hold it against your chest for extra support; it was hot, but the warmth was cozy, and itsmelled wonderful.

Caleb lifted his bowl as Brady had described others doing so, and moved to head toward the seating section of the area. You followed him carefully, keeping conscious of the sloshing of the soup so close to your body. He picked a table nearby, and set his bowl down, shaking his hands from the heat of it.

“That’s, really all that needs to be done to get food?” you asked as you set your bowl down on the table across from him, fighting a bit with the loose towel beneath it—and eventually setting the bowl down bare on the table and pulling the cloth carefully from underneath it so it wasn't tipped awkwardly.

“Yep, pick something that you want and-or meets your macro needs, ask the stall owner for the dish, and when they hand it to you, thank ‘em and head out,” he said as he took a seat, immediately reaching for his little tablet. “Oh, and making sure you put the macros in your tracker of course.” You sat as he started to tap around on it, and as he typed, he half-mindedly said, “Careful, I’d let the soup rest for a few minutes before you try eating, it’s hotter than the bowl—you do not want to scorch your mouth.”

You stared at the bowl in front of you, happy enough to soak in the heat and the smell. “That is… so different from Eden. All of this is…”

He snorted at the memory, still typing on his tablet. “I definitely do not miss the food on Eden. Get handed a half-warmed plate of slop that you could hardly choke down, and only do so because you’re hungry.”

You studied both of your meals as he worked; his was a vivid shade of orange and smelled divine, though the herbs it was made with tickled your nose. Yours was a more typical pale yellow color and looked much thicker than his. It smelled somewhat familiar, maybe that’s why it felt so comforting.

Caleb looked up at you as he put his little tablet away. He nodded to his bowl, “Want to try a spoon of mine?”

You hesitated. “I do, but. The fuck do you mean it hurts your mouth?”

He laughed. “Just a little, but it’s a good hurt. It’s hard to describe if you haven’t experienced it yet. Brady says it’s “spice”, and that’s typical of the herbs he and her family uses. Apparently it’s not a super common type of food that’s grown anymore. It’s a popular enough soup that he’s able to pull some strings with the Gardeners to keep growing it though. Says she thinks that folks would riot if he couldn’t keep making it.” He laughed again, probably at the indecision your face was making. “Just give it a try, Bro, trust me.” You gave him a look that said “you better be right about this”, and reached for the spoon in his bowl. “Get one of the sweet potatoes too, they’re what make the soup.”

As you dug through the broth, your brow furrowed. “What’s a “sweet” potato?” The spoon found a large chunk of dense foodstuff and you fished it out, along with some of that oblong cereal you recognized from previous meals—the chunk was a dull brown in color, and looked soft, and had a bit of skin on one side.

“It’s a starchy tuber a lot like a normal potato, but it doesn’t taste like one—it’s sweet, which, thinking of, I don’t know that Eden really had anything that was sweet, so you’re in for a treat,” he said as you brought the spoon close to you. It was still really hot, so you let it hover a few moments before trying to eat it.

The potato was still pretty hot when you put it into your mouth, but manageable—until the “spice” hit you. Caleb laughed, probably at the face you made, as a different type of heat spread across your mouth. You covered your mouth as you opened it to try and get a breath of cool air, which pushed the heat into your nose. It startled you, but at the same time, the flavor really hit your senses, and made you realize everything Caleb had said to describe the soup was true.

“Fuck me, that is good,” you said as soon as you got a balance of breathing and chewing correct, the heat of the spice dying down as you did so. The sweet potato was this odd, almost bright flavor, and it went really well with the spice. You reached to put his spoon back into his bowl, and he watched you with a smile like he’d won a game. “How the fuck do you eat a whole bowl of that though, that does hurt.”

“It gets easier when you eat more of it, like, your body gets used to it. And, if you get something from the Bakery to go with it, that tamps down the spice really well.”

You gave him a curious look. “You can get more than one thing?”

“Yeah, as long as you’re not taking more than your macros for the day, of course. Anything you want, just stay within that limit.”

That concept was baffling. “How? Eden had everything under lock and key, what makes it so different here?”

He reached to grab his spoon and stir his soup as he thought of a response. “Apparently, it’s just, always been that way here. After the Quiet Rapture, the macro tracker was employed as a rationing factor, but, the stations that make up the current COI always had trust in their people, and I learned from the Doc that when you trust people and give them space to make their own decisions, they’re pretty good at making good decisions.” He seemed to get lost in thought at that. “Father, liked to say he trusted us, but. Doc helped me see that no, not really.”

You nodded at that. “Yeah, he… Got me on that track of thinking today too.” You reached for your own spoon and gave the soup a stir. It was tempting to keep thinking about the past, but so much of the new was clawing at your brain to figure out, that it was your turn to change the subject for the better; “So, the, macro tracker is a limiting factor but, what’s the leeway? Joseph seemed to make it sound like it wasn't a hard limit.”

“Oh, yeah,” Caleb sounded like his head was far away for a moment, until he dug himself out of the old memories too. “Get as close to your daily goal as possible, but try to stay under as often as possible. Calories is the big one to not go too far over on, but you have a margin of 10% over on any individual nutrient before repeated infractions starts to get suspect. Folks have been given punishments for being Gluttons, but it’s pretty rare, and the council would rather have them see us medics first for any underlying issues than resort to punishment. See, folks get annual metabolic tests done along with their general health check ins to make sure they’re getting the right macros for their bodies, so if someone’s eating over what they need, statistically, it might be a sign their heath has gone awry.”

“Huh,” you replied, digesting that. Your eyes were drawn to the food stalls, and a new question formed; “Why all the different types of food though? Just, holdovers from the before times?”

“That, and it keeps folks happy. The food’s already been grown, so let folks with experience make it into great dishes that folks will enjoy and it makes for better attitudes and better people. It’ll start to make more sense the longer you’re here and off rations, but rations fucking suck. I feel so bad for folks who get roped into missions away from stations, because the foodstuffs able to be taken on missions is way more limited than what can be kept here, let alone the fresh stuff that’s being harvested each day. And, literally what Eden did was essentially ration everything, every day, on end. Here, everything gets used naturally because it wants to get used, folks want it because its prepared well. Or it goes into soup, which is also really good and gets eaten because folks want it.”

You chewed on his words as you stirred your soup, continuing to let it cool. “...Keeps folks happy.” “>I hope we’re able to give you a life you enjoy.” Want. Whatever the COI had going on did seem to be better than what Eden was doing. Same as with “want” and “choose”, you knew the definition of “happy” and “enjoy”, but ever since the Quiet Rapture, those words didn’t have much meaning in every day life, for anyone. It was odd hearing someone you trusted like a Brother say those words so casually, and with so much sincerity.

With little you could think to say to that, you moved to take the first spoon of your own soup. The potatoes you recognized, and there were chunks of white and green vegetables you didn’t recognize, but could surmise from Caleb’s description were the “leek” part of the soup. The potatoes tasted like you expected them to, and the thick broth also tasted like potato—was it a potato mash?—but the vegetables had slight crunch and tasted very similar to the scallions that Caleb had described earlier. Together, it made for a delightfully familiar yet new experience, especially as the flavor was so much more complex than any potato soup you’d had on Eden. There was a lot of it, too, but the more you ate of it, the more you appreciated how much there was—it was so enjoyable, it was hard to stop.

Eventually, you caught Caleb giving you a knowing grin. “Good, right?”

Of course, he had asked as soon as you’d eaten another spoonful, so all you could do was nod and hum an affirmative.

Your thoughts wandered at comprehending the sheer size of the bowl, while wondering how anyone could eat the whole amount in front of them. It’d been a long time since you’d had a filling meal like this. You looked to Caleb, and trying to catch him in between bites, you asked; “How long did the COI have you in prison before your Realization?”

He obviously wasn't expecting that question, and while he acknowledged it, he took another spoon of his food to let himself think. He replied once he had swallowed; “It really wasn’t long at all. Maybe a couple weeks, if even that. I think they got wind of me having medic training pretty quickly and figured that was a useful enough skill that I’d be of way better use not rotting in a cell.” He started to ask you something, then stopped himself; some of the color drained from his face and his eyes widened as he seemed to remember something you’d said earlier. “I was… going to ask you the same thing but… I think you already mentioned that… Fuck, Bro… Three years?”

You nodded quietly, absentmindedly stirring your soup as you tried very hard not to get lost back in the memories, with a brain that really seemed to want to. “I lost count after 1000 sleep cycles, so, not quite three EIC years, by my calculations, but…”

“Close enough, fuck.” He shook his head, “I hardly even remember it, but I can recall it sucked.”

You nodded quietly. You kept your voice low, just above a mutter, “Had me in solitary, too… Not that I’m surprised; can't have your mass murderer loose amongst everyone else… Dunno what they saved me for, for so long, though. Surely, they could’ve found something else harrowing enough for my crime, but. Somehow they found the most appropriate thing…”

Caleb watched you with concern, but managed to sneak some mirth into his tone, “How are you not insane?”

You chuckled once dryly. “I’ve said before, I am. I… I definitely don’t think I’m right in the head, even without the bullshit from the whole blood moon curse, thing.”

He hesitated before he responded; “Well, I certainly wasn’t, when I first got here, so you can’t be,” he said with a light tone, and a hint of uncertainty, like he wasn’t sure how well you were going to take his joke.

You gave him a smile. Judging by just the few things the Doc had led you to thinking about so far, it was true, and there was no denying it.

“The Doc’ll get your head straightened out, promise,” he said, sounding confident. You nodded at that.

Your little tablet made a sound from your pocket. If it had been any louder, it would’ve startled you—that wasn't a phenomena you were expecting. You moved to pick the little machine out of your pocket with your free hand and—fuck. Sighing and letting your spoon rest in the bowl, you moved retrieve the damned thing, and placed it on the table. A notification led you to your message history with Joseph.

“How does 1500 sound for you today?”

You had to check what time it was; your little tablet declared it to be 1208. With some mental math, specifically calculating buffer time into your task of speaking with Morrison, you nodded to yourself and moved to type a response.

“I can do that. Where will I need to go?” You caught Caleb watching with curiosity as you moved to keep eating while awaiting Joseph’s response. “Joseph; vie’s asking me if I can take my first integration class today.”

“Shit, you are busy today,” he replied with his mouth full.

You gave a slightly wry smile and shrugged. “Better busy than not. I’ve had way too much downtime in the past several years. It actually feels really good to be busy.” Just as soon as you ate a spoon of your soup, your little tablet made a sound. Even with the two new experiences in the forefront of your brain, they couldn’t stop a nagging, negative thought from bothering you; as soon as you’d swallowed, you sighed and said quietly; “Better than sitting in that dark prison, with the looming question of ‘is today the day they’re going to kill me’ hanging over my head every waking moment.”

Caleb made a disconcerted sound as you abandoned your spoon again to check the message that came through: “My office; it should be a Point of Interest on your PII’s map!”

“Bro,” he tried to start as you moved to respond to the message.

“Affirmative; thank you, magister.”

“Simon, what the fuck.”

You looked to him and shrugged. “Can you really tell me that you wouldn't have the same thought if you’d been in my position?”

He still looked concerned. “I think you need to talk to the Doc about that, and like. Soon.”

You just shrugged again. In the grand scheme of things, it’d become something you lived with for so long, it wasn’t as nearly a concern as the stress from the expedition, and hardly registered as a problem. But, at his mention of the psychologist, you did look at him pointedly. “Hey, uh. How long, do you think my surgery might go tomorrow?”

That took him a bit off guard. He shook his head after eating a spoon of food to think about it. “I’m not a surgeon, so I can't really say. Especially with the anomalous tissue and what they could find while performing it, I really, really can't say. Why?”

You nodded; you hadn’t expected a straight answer, but it was worth the ask. “Just, wondering. The Doc had wanted to schedule another meeting with him for tomorrow but I just, didn’t know what to expect, so he suggested overmorrow.”

“Probably a good idea, though,” Caleb said, tipping his bowl to scrape the sides with his spoon. “Anesthesia can right fuck up a person for the better half of a day, so count yourself down and out for the whole day.”

You moved to take up your spoon again, chewing on his words. That actually made you nervous… Considering the last time you’d had surgery, you were already so out of it that you slept the day away, and hardly remembered any of it. “What do you mean by, fucked up?” you asked before eating another spoon of your soup.

He set his bowl aside, having finished his. “It’s different for everyone, and even each time someone goes under, but it’s often excessive sleepiness, poor memory retention, and generalized confusion.”

As you continued to eat, Caleb reached over to touch the screen of your little tablet. You watched him closely, Joseph’s words about losing the little machine springing to mind, but all he did was tap it, then read it while it was upside down to him. Unlike when you tapped it, instead of opening up to the program page, it only showed the time—1214. He nodded, and moved to stand; you watched him curiously as he did so.

“I gotta get back to the medical center,” he declared. “I’m still working, technically,” he reminded you as he moved to grab his empty bowl. “You, are free to do whatever.”

You watched him quietly, chewing, as he walked away—not far, just a few dozen meters to where there looked to be other dishes collected, and placed his bowl amongst them. He then returned to where you sat.

“There’s a couple of those collection points dotted around the Commons, you can drop your dish off at any of them. I can’t remember how long integration class takes, but, if you’re free around, say 1600, I can take my second meal break then and meet up with you.”

You gave him an apologetic smile. “I’ve got the class at 1500.”

“Ah, well. Try not to stay out too long, then, I’m only at the medical center until 1800, and if Lea forgets that you’re out when Margie comes in, and you’re not back by the time zhe comes looking for you for check in, zhe’ll have all our asses,” he said with both a light tone and a very serious one simultaneously.

“I shouldn’t be out that late, what could I even do to stay out that late?” you said with confusion and contrariness.

“I dunno, Bro, but I know you’re good at getting into trouble,” he replied with mirth. You snorted a retort. “Commons is open until 2200, so, y’know what, you let me know when you’re down here again, and I’ll come meet you to hang out, even if I’m not hungry, ‘kay?”

“Sure,” you nodded, giving him a smile.

He held out his fist to you. You reached your free hand to—fuck, you were really bad with that today. Caleb gave a slightly awkward smile, seeing what you’d just done, and sighing, you let your spoon rest in the dish, then reached out to tap your fist to his. He moved to stoop down and hug you from where you sat, startling you just a little bit before you felt him reaching to mess up your hair—another of the Brothers’ gestures. You grumbled at him, mostly out of getting knocked off balance, but upon realizing what he was up to, you were able to right yourself and moved to grab his arm around your chest and feigned to pull it off you.

“Caleb—” you growled playfully at him.

He chuckled, “This is way harder than it used to be, with you having long hair.”

“Get off me, Bro,” you grumbled playfully, and though it felt comforting to have that familiar contact with him, your ribs began to protest at the light rough-housing, and the graft on your arm twinged as you pulled it funny in the hold. “Ow, dude,” you spat, this time not joking.

That got him off you at least; he stood, taking his weight off you, and while customarily fixing your hair, looked to you. “Shit, sorry. You okay?”

Even with his fixing, you moved to brush hair out of your face. “Yeah, just. Those ribs are bruised, remember.” He gave you an apologetic smile as you inspected your arm graft. “I’m glad to see you too, but, I’m a fucking mess, right now,” you looked up at him.

“You gotta get better quick so I can stop forgetting,” he joked with an apologetic tone. “Take it easy, I’ll see you later,” he said as he moved off, giving you a casual parting wave.

“Me? Me, take it easy?” you called after him incredulously.

“See you later!” he called back with mirth, not turning around to look at you.

You snorted, but moved to go back to your soup, trying to ignore your ribs smarting. As you picked up the spoon and registered that the food was new, a thought settled heavily into your brain; you were alone. For the first time in years, you were on your own. You’d had a taste of it earlier, before your meeting with the Doctor, but being out in the Commons, it weighed so much heavier on your consciousness. You really were free, but in the Commons, in the middle of a completely new culture, with no one at your side, no one leading you, no one giving you instructions, you felt very exposed.

Is this how Caleb felt when he first got here? It had to have been worse for him, though, at least you had him that you could ask for help.

Recognizing your brain was going down a path you didn’t want it to, you took a deep breath. You had tasks, and you focused on keeping your itinerary in mind to give yourself direction. Being busy certainly was the preferred option, you thought to yourself as you tucked in to finish your food.

Spotting your little tablet was still on the table, you moved to stash it back into your pocket before you really forgot it. That was the last thing you needed—to come off as irresponsible the first day you were allowed to wander around on your own. The Doctor’s words from earlier came back to the forefront of your thoughts; “The actions you took during your Realization show that you are an incredibly dependable person.” Was that really true? Who exactly held that sentiment? It was hard to believe that what happened in that sub, was enough to change anyone’s opinion of you, much less the Council.

But, you were here, and not dead… So that had to account for something.

With your food finished, you stood and grabbed the towel—at first, attempting to grab it with your left hand which just resulted in you grumbling at yourself—tossing it over your shoulder for temporary keeping, then took the bowl to the collection area that Caleb had gone to. Looking around, you studied the area a bit better now that you didn’t have immediate obligations to fulfill. Caleb was right, there were several other collection areas dotted around the vast seating area, and what originally looked like a maze of tables and dividers began to make more sense the more you could make a map of it in your brain.

You headed to the outer edge of the area where the alcoves were, and initially stepped up to the soup stall. The proprietor was sending off another patron when you arrived, but she gave you a smile as you emoved the towel from your shoulder to hand back to him.

“Broady?” you asked to confirm that you had the correct name in your brain.

“Brady,” she corrected.

You nodded. “Thank you, Brady,” you repeated, trying to log it into your memory. You gave him an uncertain look; “Ma’am? Sir?”

She gave you a big smile. “Both are fine.”

You returned the smile. “Will do; thank you again, sir.”

You gave him a parting wave that she returned, and headed off to study the rest of the area.

The stall next to the soup stall smelled like char, and the display board showed images of vegetables that had been somewhat burnt and speared on a long metal stick. You didn’t recognize a lot of the vegetables included on the image, and it didn’t look very filling, but the smell made it intriguing. Brows furrowing, you studied the list—beside each name you didn’t recognize was a set of macros, with a “per gram” rider. Did the stall let you build your own dish? Interesting.

The next stall on made you stop and stare. The display board declared that the stall offered cooked fish. Living animals? Here? On this station? Eden had livestock in the before times, but you knew that shortly after the Quiet Rapture, they’d been culled since there was no way to feed them and the people that lived there. So to see this station had fish, was beyond baffling. Father had been right… The COI certainly did have their secrets… You’d have to ask Caleb about it later. You shook your head and moved on, trying not to dwell too much on how weird everything was.

The final food stall declared itself Delicatessen, and it’s display board was the most populated of the lot, which matched the sheer size of the alcove itself. While, once again, you didn’t recognize a lot of the ingredients listed, there were familiar words, such as “sandwich” and “salad”. How was this stall different than the previous salad stall, you had to wonder. But the sheer size of the offerings list was intriguing, and the amount of time you stood studying it attracted one of the two proprietors (the first stall you’d seen with two proprietors) to see if you needed help. You gave him an apologetic smile and said you were simply looking.

Beyond the food stalls, the others were more scattered around the area. A couple occupied and several unoccupied stalls stood between the food stalls and Morrison’s, and you got a better look at them now that your focus wasn't solely on heading there. The first stand seemed to be empty at first glance; the lights weren’t on, and while there was obviously items within the alcove, the proprietor didn’t seem to be present. Getting closer, you saw the display board claimed the space was for Alyx’s stand. Seems she was off doing her official job. The display board gave a summary of the services and goods she offered: seeds, fertilizer, several varieties of irrigation systems, advice, pruning, diagnostics… The list went on for quite a while, and considering you knew very little about plants in general, a lot of it seemed quite involved, especially as the trade prices listed included seed trade, time investment, or caloric cession, with each having the caveat of “or more” tacked on the end. The idea was tempting, but you had no idea what the future held for you, so it was hard to try and make any plans, especially in the case of caring for another living thing.

Moving on, the next stall had the universal sign of the medic’s cross, which you found curious. The proprietor sat behind the counter reading something on his tablet, and he glanced up when you approached. “Let me know when you’re ready,” he said, to which you nodded. The inside of the alcove was lined with extremely well-organized items on multitudes of shelves, and a sign of the stall’s wares cleared up some of your confusion; it offered medications and other personal effects. Instead of trade prices, each item’s name instead listed a count beside it. You could surmise that was some sort of limit—which made you realize, this sort of information was probably what the integration class was for. That would certainly make sense… Having no clue what you’d even need, you moved to head off without requesting anything; as you did, you caught the proprietor watching you curiously out of the corner of your eye.

Finally, stepping up to Morrison’s counter, hy appeared to be hard at work already. Hy sat stooped over a relatively small machine that made a rhythmic chunk sound that hy was feeding fabric through. Huh, so that’s how clothing was made. When hy stopped the machine to adjust hys work, you spoke up at a just loud enough of a volume so hy could hear you, but not so loud as to startle hymn: “Excuse me, seraph.”

As seemed to be fitting for hymn, hy jumped in surprise in an exaggerated way and turned toward your voice. “Simon! Good to see you, boy,” hy chuckled, putting a hand on hys heart when hy registered it was you. You gave hymn an apologetic smile as hy set hys work carefully aside and moved to stand. “Come round, there’s a hallway just to the side of my stall here, I’ll let you in.”

Let you in? To hys stall? Hy pointed toward your right, and stepping back away from the stall, you caught sight of a narrow walkway that ducked between stalls. Uncertainty tugged at your subconsciousness, but that never stopped you, and you cautiously headed down the hall. Near the end, a door opened to your left, and Morrison beckoned you inside. Hy stepped aside to let you enter, and the sound of the door shutting behind you registered as your attention was kept by the appearance of the room you found yourself in. It appeared to be a partitioned off section of the stall’s alcove, judging by how light filtered through a doorway on the opposite side of the room from where you came in. There was a more orderly organization in this back room, as the walls were lined with shelving and containers also full with fabrics, but the few bits that were sticking out of the bins back here, looked to be larger than just scraps, unlike the those the front of hys stall was decorated with.

“What, no jumpsuit for alteration?” Morrison asked with a slight disappointment, catching your attention.

You looked to hymn from your study of hys space. “No, not yet,” you said with an appeasing tone and an apologetic smile. “I need to have more of that arm removed, so I was going to wait until after that.”

“Dreadful, dreadful,” hy said, hys face taking on an apologetic expression. “But, understandable. Come, sit,” hy motioned over to where hy had a small sofa and a rolling chair—and a what you realized was a dummy after looking at the humanoid figure for more than just the glance that originally took you by surprise.

Sighing in relief, you shook your head and moved to take a seat on the sofa—at least, you assumed the rolling chair was for Morrison to work from. Why the Hell did hy have a dummy in hys workshop? You hadn’t been expecting anyone else to be in the stall, so seeing it’s figure out of the corner of your eye took you completely off guard.

Morrison stepped over to one of the boxes on a shelf and removed an identical pair of boots to the ones you were wearing from it. As hy brought them over, you stooped down to remove your current boots—at least that was the easy part. Hy sat on the rolling chair and scooted over to you, then held the boots out to show you to see the edits that hy’d made to them; in the center of the inner side of each one, hy’d cut down the length and sewn in the zippers he’d picked out yesterday. The quality of the work was fantastic, you’d never have known that hy’d done it hymnself, if you hadn't asked hymn to—the zippers looked like they’d always been there, and there wasn't a thread loose anywhere. The pull on the zipper had been swapped out to a big metal ring you could easily loop a finger through, rather than the small pull tab you were used to on most zippers.

“Those look excellent, Morrison,” you said, looking to hys face.

“Thank you, sir,” hy replied with a humble tone. “I want to make sure that you can get them on all by yourself, so I want to tie them proper while they’re on you, then have you unzip and zip them back up. If you have any trouble at all, I can take them back to the sewer to edit them.”

Hy set them on the floor in front of you to allow you to give them a try; as they were already unzipped and unlaced, they were easy to slip on, and zipping them up unlaced was very simple, the zippers hy’d picked out moving very smoothly along their tracks. Hy moved to lace your boots for you, and did so with an extremely practiced hand—the lacing was neither too tight nor too loose, and when hy prompted you to test how the tightness of the lacing felt, it was perfect.

“Go ahead and unzip ‘em and then rezip ‘em, then. I’ll permanently tie the laces once we’re sure they’re right,” hy prompted.

You did so, the zippers unzipping smoothly. Attempting to zip them back up was the challenge of course, and Morrison watched carefully to both your movements and the boots; the metal rings gave you far more leverage in your attempt to fight the fabric, and though it took a few stops and readjustments, both in your technique and the way the fabric hugged your ankle, without too much trouble, both boots zipped up just fine.

You nodded to hymn and moved to sit upright. “I couldn’t ask for better, thank you, seraph,” you smiled.

Hy returned the smile, then moved to double, then triple knot the lacing. “Good to hear, good to hear. If you ever need adjustments, if those zippers ever lose a tooth, get snagged, or just give you a headache, you bring those back and I’ll fix ‘em right up. And don’t wait ‘til they’re fallin’ apart to come see me either—since you can’t just casually trade me for another set, let me fix ‘em before they get too bad, y’hear?” You nodded an affirmative. “Anything else you need from me at the moment, anything at all?”

You were reminded that Joseph recommended speaking to Morrison about your PII. “Actually, I have a bit of a predicament. I’m not sure if you can help with it, but, I can tell you’re creative, you’ll probably have some ideas.” Hy seemed to puff up hys chest at the complement. “I’m having trouble keeping a grip on my PII, especially when typing. I don’t have enough leverage to hold it, and type at the same time, which limits my ability to use it.”

Hy nodded very seriously at your inquiry, putting a hand to hys chin in a show of thought. “Can I see your PII?” hy asked.

You retrieved it from your pocket, and handed it to hymn. Hy turned it around in hys hands, examining the housing of the machine, running hys fingers along the edges, even attempting to get hys fingernails in certain grooves.

“Certain models of these things have different constructions,” hy said as hy inspected it. “Sadly, yours doesn’t seem to be one of the models that has cutouts that I can just sew some webbing to to give you a handle. Jerri down the way may have some attachments for your model, but those are pretty rare these days.” Hy handed the little tablet back to you. “I would suggest you see Jerri, see what she has to offer for you. If she doesn’t have any attachments that can help you, see if she’d be willing to weld some little attachment points onto the back; if she does that, then I can make you a handle.”

Hy demonstrated what hys vision was by having you hold the little machine as though you wanted to type, then pointing to the locations anchor points would need to be welded on so that a strap could be sewn onto the anchors, and how that strap would hug your hand to allow you leverage to both hold the machine and type. It seemed so simple, yet so effective, in theory at least. You nodded in agreement at hys vision, and gave hymn a smile. “Thank you very much for your help, seraph.”

Morrison offered hys hand for you to shake, and you moved to transfer your little tablet into your other hand—which resulted in it landing in your lap. Fuck. You sighed heavily as hy gave a light-hearted chuckle. Picking the damned thing up, you slid it back into your pocket, then took hys offered hand. “Any time, Simon, any time! Any time you need to brainstorm things for your abilities, just come to me, I’m happy to help!”

Hy stood from hys rolling chair, and offered to help you to your feet—you took it. Hy moved to the door that you’d come through a bit ago and opened it for you, and gave you a casual parting wave as you stepped out. You returned it as he shut the door behind you.

Heading back to the main walkway, you continued down the loop around the area in the direction you’d been heading initially. Passing several empty stalls, you wandered past an active one that, as with Alyx’s stall, also seemed to lack it’s proprietor, though the lights were on. A cursory look around at the wares was a mixed bag—just about anything you could think of, from bits to baubles, lined the walls and even spilled over the counter of the alcove. A sign on the counter stated “Norrick’s Scrap & Tool Sharpening.” There was an old fashioned bell on the counter—probably to call for the proprietor.

Not what you were looking for at the moment, you continued, which brought you to the last stall on the loop—and it was a huge alcove, as well. A sign hanging from the cutout of the alcove stated Jerri’s Rigs. A curious look around at the wares displayed a vast array of ship and computer parts, which you found incredibly curious that there would be a trade stall for those sorts of items. As with the other two, the proprietor didn’t seem to be around—instead, you noticed an orange button on the counter that was labeled “Call”. Judging by the size of the alcove, you assumed that the proprietor was off doing tasks, and that’s what the call button was for—you pushed it.

An old-fashioned buzzing noise went off in the back of the alcove, far, far beyond what you could actually see due to the display shelves of gear and wares. From equally far back, you heard a gruff voice yell, “On my way!” You busied yourself by looking around at the parts on display with interest; there were booster engines, nav systems, servos, chips, wiring—anything you could think of for a ship’s operation, seemed to be behind that counter. Which, you found odd. Were the ships of the COI independently owned? If that was the case, why did the Consolidation not collectively operate their transports? If the ships were collectively operated, why would they not have this type of gear down in the airdock for immediate repairs?

You caught movement as the proprietor made her way to the front of the alcove, and you gave her a casual wave as greeting as she approached. “What can I do for you?” she asked, even while she was still quite a bit of ways away.

“Joseph sent me. Said you might be able to help me with my PII,” you said, cutting out some of the details of the run-around you’d been sent on.

“Huh. What sort of help?” she asked, seeming skeptical. As she got closer though, you could see her expression changed to a more understanding one upon getting a better look at you.

“Well, I was told that you might have some attachments for them laying around?” you gave her a slightly awkward smile. “See, I have some trouble holding onto the little thing and typing at the same time.”

“That I can certainly see,” she said as she stepped up to the counter. She was both taller than you and stocky at the same time, built like a barricade and certainly looked like she worked lifting heavy gear every day. She offered her hand—it was splotched with black from whatever she’d been working on in the back; you took it still, unafraid of a little engine grease. “Jerri.”

“Simon.”

“Good to meet you. What model PII do you have?”

You made an uncertain chuckle and moved to pull the little tablet from your pocket and hand it to her. She took it with her opposite hand, which seemed to have a little less grease on it, and studied it as she wiped her free hand on a very grease-stained and tattered cloth on her shoulder. She handed it back in just as much time as it took her to give it a look-over, and moved to wipe both her hands. “I think I have just the thing for you, but I need to know that Joseph virself requested it.”

You nodded and moved to tap around on your little tablet, inadvertently giving Jerri a display of how difficult it was for you to use. Opening Joseph’s message thread, you showed her the set of messages Joseph had sent about the work being on vir. She nodded.

“Contract taken, thank you sir. I’ll get in touch with Joseph about it, no need to tell vir yourself. At that, let me get it for you,” she said concisely before moving back into the alcove.

You hadn't expected anyone to actually ask to see Joseph’s “binding contract” message, but were quite thankful that vie had sent it now. It also made you wonder just what the hell Jerri could possibly have that warranted that level of business dealing. She hadn’t gone too deep into the alcove before she began to dig around in several trays and crates, all of what looked like small computer parts. Eventually, she pulled a somewhat large sized metal object from a crate; she inspected the outside before opening it—when opened, it looked like a tablet and a keyboard attached by a hinge. She inspected the inside of the folded area as she stepped back toward the counter, leaving it open as she walked. “This is a dock for PIIs and similar tablets. They’re very rarely used anymore, but for someone with a disability such as yours, this should help immensely.”

She set the dock on the counter for you to look over. The machine was at least 40 centimeters in width, 25 in height, and 5 in depth when shut. The keyboard wasn’t cramped, but was also condensed enough that running your fingers over it in interest made it seem like it’d be easy to type on. It did seem perfect… but it wasn’t exactly what you were after. You looked to her. “This is perfect, truly, but… I was hoping to be able to get help more for keeping a hold on the PII while using it by itself.”

She watched you as you spoke with an expression that was hard to read, but upon understanding your words, realization crossed her eyes and she nodded. “Of course. The dock is the limitation of what I have that is made for your specific PII model, and you are more than welcome to keep it in addition to any other solution, but you sound like you have something in mind for your need.”

You nodded. “I spoke with Morrison just a little bit ago, an hy had an idea for welding anchor points to the chassis to allow hymn to sew a handle onto it.”

She nodded. “Of course. Can you show me where those points are?”

You did so, and gave her a similar demonstration to the one Morrison gave to you. While you held your little tablet in the way that felt most balanced for typing on it, Jerri took out a piece of charcoal from a pocket on her smock, and drew a few lines on the tablet’s chassis—marks, you recognized, to reference where to place the additions.

“Feel free to take a seat in the courtyard; this won’t take long, but longer than I’d feel comfortable leaving you standing,” she said, then she took your little tablet and headed back into the depths of her alcove with it.

After having the importance of that little tablet drilled into your brain, it was hard to let it be taken away, but it was obvious there was no helping you with it without taking it from you, even momentarily. You picked up the dock from the counter and took it with you to go sit down, the act of it feeling like a fair compensation in case Jerri didn’t bring your tablet back. The Commons was rather quiet at this point in time, and the lack of people milling around attracted your attention toward the clusters of soft seating; you chose an over-sized armchair near Jerri’s stall, which allowed you to sit cozily cross-legged without pulling too badly at your graft donation sites.

Setting the dock into your lap, you fought at first to open the damned thing—half due to it seemed to be locked shut, and half because your brain kept trying to utilize your missing hand to fight with it—until you recalled how Jerri had opened it to inspect it. Running your fingers along the right edge of the bottom half, you found a spring-loaded toggle that when you pulled on it, released the screen from the front of the keyboard and it swung open in a controlled manner, not too fast, not too slow, until it stopped at an about 110 degree angle to the keyboard. You made a face at it, impressed.

“Why aren’t these things used anymore?” you muttered to yourself, letting your fingers glance over the keys. They were raised just a few millimeters above the surface of the backing, and each one had hardly a mil of space between them. The machine hadn’t turned on, and even as you test-typed whole sentences to get a feel for it, the screen stayed dark. How was it powered? It did make you excited to try it though.

Moving to gently close the screen, it clicked into place and didn’t spring back open. You flipped it over—carefully, recognizing how badly your brain wanted to use both hands today—to inspect it further; on the bottom side was a socket that looked like it could hold many different sizes of small tablets, which is what you figured allowed it to be the dock for the PII. There was some sort of mechanism that looked as though once a tablet was inserted into the socket, would extend and lock the tablet in place, no matter how large or small it was, but you couldn’t tell from it’s current state how exactly it worked. Hell, hopefully the little tablet would fit in the socket properly with the new modifications. That was a thought you didn’t want to think about. That did bring up another thought though; to carry this relatively large machine, you’d definitely need to put your new satchel to use. Then that line of thought made you wonder, what even would you use the dock for? It was cumbersome versus the little tablet, but, then again, you didn’t know how often typing large amounts of information was going to come up…

Satisfied with your inspection of the dock, you let it rest in your lap as you looked around the area. It was well kept, and folks conversing with one another kept their voices to respectable volumes. It was different, but it was nice, the more you thought about it. Not knowing anyone eased the burden of feeling responsibility—were you on Eden, making sure folks were on task and where they were supposed to be was a background task you always had to be aware of. Here… you felt sort of aimless. It was a bittersweet feeling, knowing you didn’t have to enforce order, but, not having a task was odd. That did make you think back to your meeting with the Doc earlier, how, how did he put it?,surveiled, life was, on Eden.

“Here you are, sir.”

The voice broke you out of your memories, and you looked up to see Jerri holding your little tablet out to you.

“Oh, thank you, ma’am,” you reached up to take it from her.

“I don’t expect the welds to break, but the anchors themselves are pretty thin, in order to allow the PII to still have a low profile and keep them from being a bigger weak point than they already are. If they ever break, bring it right back to me, I’ll fix it up right quick.”

Her assessment was sound; the pieces of metal she’d found to weld onto the tablet’s chassis were skinny but relatively sturdy—and still a little hot to the touch. You looked to her from inspecting the work. “Thank you ma’am, will do.” You set the tablet on top of the dock to free your hand, and offered it to her.

She took it and gave yours a courtesy shake. “Good working with you. I’m happy to do any work you need from me to help yourdisability.”

“Appreciate it,” you gave her an appreciative smile as you parted.

She gave you a parting nod and headed back to her stall.

COI members really just, were that helpful, huh? It as so strange. Sure, on Eden there was an expectation of “no one left behind”, but, maybe that was what not having your whole day planned out for you allowed you to do… To, have the ability to choose to help someone, when you weren’t expected to be somewhere, be doing something else…

You sighed and juggled the machines on your lap so that you could try slotting the little tablet into the dock. Trying it screen-inward first, due to the modifications made, as soon as the screen made solid contact with the dock, a pair of metal anchors extruded from the dock’s innards and ratcheted into place to hold the tablet tightly. A thin metal panel slid over top, encasing the tablet in an extra bid of safety—thankfully, that part didn’t seem to be obstructed by the modification done to the tablet.

“What the fuck,” you muttered. How the fuck did you get the tablet out now?

Studying the bottom face of the dock, you noticed a small button that hadn’t been there before. It was bright orange and labeled Eject in black. Did the docking procedure make the button available?

“Huh,” you muttered. Might as well see what the dock was all about, since the little tablet was already in place.

Flipping it back over, you pulled the open toggle, and the screen opened as before, this time lit up with the friendly orange display that the tablet normally had. Huh. The tablet itself must power the dock. The interface displayed was the same as on the tablet itself, just, bigger, and well laid out for the larger screen. The screen acted like a tablet, but accepted key input from keyboard. What a handy piece of machinery. Why didn’t they use these anymore?

Closing the dock again and flipping it over once more, you hit the Eject button, and the metal panel slid back and the anchors holding the tablet in place retracted, allowing the tablet to be retrieved. You did so, and stowed it in your pocket for the time being. Thoroughly impressed, you couldn’t wait to use it. That’d have to wait though, you still had to see Morrison to get a strap attached to the tablet, then go meet with Joseph. Better get on with that.

Keeping a good grip on the dock, you moved to stand, carefully, and headed across the Commons to Morrison’s stall.

It’d been an incredibly long day, and you’d told yourself after the integration class had taught you about more of the PII’s functions, that you were going to reward yourself with checking out your apartment. You couldn’t stay—yet—but after checking in with the medical center for another nerve block, (and to remind Lea you were out and about) and taking second meal with Caleb, (shit, you forgot to ask him about the fish!) you followed the map on your little tablet to the point of interest marked as your apartment, going slowly through the hallways both to make sure you didn’t miss a turn, and to carefully pace yourself.

Standing in front of the door that your tablet indicated, you inspected the area, matching it up with what you’d learned in integration; the door had a reader that would unlock it when you held your tablet up to it, and to the left of the door was a parcel locker and a laundry receptacle built into the wall.

Interestingly, there was an orange light on the parcel box; integration class had taught you that meant there was something inside. Brows furrowing in confusion, (what could possibly be in there?) you held your tablet up to the parcel locker—just like the front door, it had a reader that the tablet unlocked when held up to it. The light turned green, and a mechanical whir sound indicated the door had been unlocked and was ready to open. Unraveling your hand from the tablet’s new handle, you dropped your tablet into your pocket, and swung the locker’s door open, founding a small paper pouch inside. Brows furrowing in confusion, you picked it up and pulled it out—it was deceptively heavy, enough that inspecting it further felt cumbersome and secondary to your original intention here.

You dropped it in your other pocket, closed the door to the parcel locker—of which it closed with a chunk and the lock audibly reengaged—and moved to retrieve your tablet again. Sliding your hand in between the new handle and the tablet’s chassis for security, you held the little machine up to the reader on the apartment door. An orange light on the reader switched to green, and a similar whirring to the locker’s door indicated the lock was disengaging. The door then opened with a hiss, allowing you to step inside.

When you did, a set of lights on the ceiling turned on, which you had learned was something you could program them to do or not do with the tablet, but it was still really cool to see happen. A short hallway led down to the rest of the apartment, which was one room plus a bathroom. Dominating most of the room was a decently large bed, which was strange to see—even knowing that the station was made well before the Quiet Rapture, it was weird to think that something like that hadn’t been salvaged yet, or that this station had invested in such provisions in the first place.

It also made you pause and think of how much of Eden’s culture expected spaces to be communal; for as large as the station was, it had been a colonial station, which set the expectation. Bunks and cots were your normal—this was luxury, something you’d imagine the clan leaders or Father having. You stared at it for a few moments before moving to sit on it. It was comfortable, but it made you realize how, contrary to how lonely Eden was interpersonally, it was physically lonely here.

The room was quiet, too quiet, even. At least the privacy felt nice, but that almost felt empty in comparison.

Trying to get yourself out of the unhelpful line of thinking, you continued to look around. The bed itself stood centered against the wall opposite the entry hallway, furnished with a pair of pillows and a set of sheets and a blanket, with a nightstand pressed up against the lefthand side of the headboard. Opposite the bed was a large screen mounted on the wall; you’d learned in integration that the PII could project to it, and that media from the intranet could be enjoyed on the larger screen—and from the comfort of one’s own bed, it seemed. A writing desk with a large, comfortable looking chair stood in the far corner. Along the back wall was a rail that you assumed was for clothing, back in the day, when folks had more than just a couple sets to their names. An alcove had been built into the wall the bathroom was behind, and upon standing to do a closer inspection, it looked like it’d once been a shelving unit. The shelves had probably been salvaged long ago. Curious that the rail hadn’t been…

Stepping into the bathroom, your movement made a light flick on within the room. It was pleasantly spacious, with a glass-walled shower that had enough room to step completely out of the flow of water, a wide sink in the counter, a wall-length mirror behind said counter, and a pretty standard toilet tucked in the back corner of the room. A pair of towels and washing cloths and a couple of drinking cups had been stacked on the counter. More surprisingly, there was a collection of small capped plastic bottles in a drawer beneath the counter. They were empty, and each was labelled with a type of medicine—oh right, you’d learned about that in integration; the stall you’d passed in the Commons earlier, the one with the universal medic’s cross, that had personal effects, you could take the bottles to to have tablets dispensed into. Useful.

Heading back into the main room, you moved to sit back on the bed. This was yours… It was hard to wrap your head around, and you quietly allowed yourself to soak it in, trying to accept that fact. Unsure of how the line of thinking got you there, eventually you remembered the little paper pouch in your pocket, from the parcel locker. Unweaving your hand from the tablet’s new handle and sliding the little machine into the pocket you typically put it in, you fought to reach into your opposite pocket—why the fuckdid you put it in there, you knew you couldn’t reach into that pocket easily. After a couple minutes’ struggle, you managed to get a hold of it and drag it out—though now you were cramped from trying to twist in a way bodies weren’t made to. You’d have to ask Morrison if hy could move that pocket closer or something so you could still use it.

Grumbling, you tossed the pouch down onto the bed beside you and gave your body a stretch before inspecting it. It had landed folded side down, so you flipped it over to find the opening—doing so, you found writing on it. Huh. Lifting it back up, the words became clearer: “Figured you might want this back. -Joseph”

Your brows furrowed; what the fuck could that mean? From Joseph? Did you somehow lose something at integration or, perhaps on the transport? What could you possibly have lost? You slid your thumb under the pouch’s closure flap and undid it, lifting the bottom of the packet to allow the contents to slide out and onto the bed.

Your Brother’s glass pendant that contained the Last Tree’s seed, slid unceremoniously out of the paper pouch and onto the sheet. Your eyes went wide, and you reached immediately to scoop it up, but your expression wasn't solely at the seed’s presence—it’s appearance was shocking as well.

The glass was broken in several places, moreso than it had been last you’d seen it in the sub. Fleshy growths, now withered and grey, had tried to grab onto the glass, to get underneath it and to the seed itself, but the seed had… retaliated? It had broken through the glass, growing larger with roots and even what passed as tiny branches escaping it’s confines, pushing the glass panes apart and stressing the solder that held the panes closed—it looked more like a miniature version of the Last Tree than it did a seed. In two places where the fleshy growths had tried to invade the glass, the seed had grown outward and pushed the growths away, and the growths looked as though they were repelled by the plant, growing away and around the seedling, avoiding it.

Grasping the pendant carefully, you held it to your heart. A million thoughts entered your mind at once—why did Joseph let you have this? Didn’t the council confiscate all of these? How did your Brother get his into the sub? How did the seedling grow? Didn’t Caleb say they were dead in that glass? Did that mean the blood affected it too? Wouldn’t Science want to study it then? If it was growing, wouldn't Joseph have wanted to send it to the agricultural ring? Was it alive? If it was still alive, how were you even supposed to keep it alive? Did you have a responsibility to give it to Science or the Gardeners? Why did Joseph let you have this? Vie probably thought it was dead. They all probably thought it was dead. You weren’t sure if it was alive.

Then an instinct put a thought in your mind you couldn’t get rid of—it is alive.

“How do I.. care for you, little one?” you muttered to it.

The cups in your bathroom. You stood and marched into the bathroom, setting the pendant down on the counter to grab one of the cups. You didn’t want to fuck around with broken glass, and figured you’d need help to free the seedling from it’s cage later, but at least you could rest the pendant on the bottom of the cup and give it some water. Setting the cup into the bottom of the sink, just below the faucet, you set the pendant into the cup, standing it upright against the side, and very carefully turned on the tap so it would only barely dribble water into the bottom of the cup. You let it fill just long enough to raise the water line above the seedling’s little roots, trying not to suffocate it—at least, with your very little knowledge about plants, you were pretty sure they could suffocate…

“It’s not soil, but… Hopefully that will do until I can get you some,” you said to it, lifting the cup and carefully carrying it back into the main room. You set it on the nightstand, and looked up at the lighting situation. There was a light just above the bed, one in the far corner of the room above the desk, and one near the entry hallway.

Sitting on the bed, you pulled your little tablet from your pocket, and started tapping around on it. Utilizing what you’d learned about it’s functionality from integration class, you tapped into the program that allowed you to configure aspects about the room. After some fucking with the program, you figured out how to get the light above the bed to stay on at all times, while allowing the others to turn off after a period of no motion in the room.

Looking back to the little seedling, you felt bad that you couldn’t get it out of the glass yet. “Just a little longer… I promise,” you said to it apologetically.

Going back to your little tablet, you tapped out of the previous program, and over to the messaging program, and into Caleb’s message history.

“You’re never going to guess what I have.”

Why were you nervous? Sure, it probably had something to do with the fact that you’d never consciously gotten ready for being operated on before, but as Margie and Kerry—who had been specially assigned to help with the surgery and their presence had been a surprise when you walked in—went through a final pre-op checklist, fear crept up into your brain like a slow chill.

They were talking in big words that you didn’t know the meaning of, making their conversation hard to follow, but the gist of their topic was how Kerry had more experience—for what counted as experience with this mutation—operating on the mutated cells and spotting them in the moment, and Margie, being a pain specialist, was going to be secondary surgeon to Kerry and primarily watch for your body having negative reactions during the surgery—not that they expected any, but because the way the blood had mutated you was so unknown, they needed to be prepared for anything.

Kerry must have caught onto your apprehension, and reached to put their hand on yours comfortingly. “It’ll be even more safe today than on the tow ship—you’re in much better shape now, physically, and we have our entire host of surgical and emergency equipment here; you’ll be just fine,” they said gently.

You nodded, understanding that logically, but it didn’t help quell the fear. “Something feels wrong.”

Margie nodded. “The Curse,” zhe joked.

You gave zer an uneasy smile as Kerry chuckled. “You joke, but… Yeah.”

Zhe pulled a tablet up to look at. “Your anti-psychotic was refreshed just a couple hours ago. With any luck, it’ll keep The Curse at bay for the duration of the surgery,” zhe said with a serious tone. “But, we’ll have several points of vital sign monitoring on you throughout, basic gear for the type of surgery in the first place. I’ll… keep an eye on your vitals for anything out of the ordinary.”

Kerry gave zer a furrowed brow as you nodded, feeling a little better at zer reassurance.

Margie caught their look; “Apparently that hallucination thing he’s been seeing, physically tried to kill him. There’s data from Tanner’s log that mentions it in no uncertain terms—and I’m sure you’ve had enough run-ins with Tanner to know that ze doesn’t fuck around and put funny shit in hir reports.”

“What? How does a hallucination harm someone?” Kerry asked, shocked. They looked at you; “The tooth monster? It physically harmed you?

You nodded smally. “It was choking me.”

Kerry’s face lost some of it’s color. “Marg, you didn’t see the thing that actually for real almost killed him. There’s no question why he’s afraid, if the hallucination monster looks anything like that thing.”

Zhe understandably looked skeptical, and looked to you. “When is the last time you saw the hallucination monster?”

“When it tried to choke me. I’ve been pretty good at keeping up with the anti-psychotics since then,” you looked between the medics.

Zhe nodded. “We really can’t delay the surgery, but we’ll do our damnedest to keep you safe, okay? Hopefully the anti-psychotic will do the heavy lifting.” Zhe looked to Kerry. “You’re the one who experienced him seeing it, what was up with that?”

They shrugged. “It was, a normal hallucination, as far as we knew. Pretty typical PTSD reactions—being awoken by nightmares, seeing it standing over him, it moving in the shadows. It always seemed to disappear when someone interacted with it, or broke his line of sight to it.”

Margie’s face took on a conflicted look. “Tanner’s log confirms that… We’ll have to hands-on assist his wake up then. It is possible to dream when under anesthesia, and anesthesia dreams can be far more fucked up than normal dreams, because it stops your body from waking itself when under nightmare duress, and I know you mentioned that that’s when it attacked you, coming off of a dream,” zhe said to you, then looked back to Kerry. “If we’re both there when he wakes, we have a good chance of interfering with it if it manifests again.”

Kerry nodded. “Solid plan. Do you think asking Lea or Caleb to assist with the wake up would be too much?”

Zhe mulled it over. “We can call in Caleb when we’re getting ready to wake him up. Lea isn’t up to speed with what happened with the hallucination attacking, but Caleb is.”

When they mentioned bringing in Caleb to help, a bit of the fear alleviated; something about the idea of your Brother, someone you knew you could implicitly trust, being present to help grounded youin reality, and you nodded to them both.

They both looked to you when you nodded. Kerry gave a you a small smile. “I just knew you’d have to go back under the knife for this; I’m sorry I couldn’t have done a better job in the first place. You were so injured, I did the best I could.”

You returned their smile. “I don’t blame you.”

Their smile widened a bit. “Ready to get it over with, then, Simon?”

You nodded. There wasn't going to be a better time, no matter how afraid you were, and their plan did alleviate some of the fear. You just had to trust them. Margie flipped zer hand in a “lay back” motion, and you dutifully did so, even though the metal operating table was incredibly uncomfortable. As Margie wandered away to start working on an IV drip, Kerry got you situated with blankets and a pillow, finalizing their fussing by tucking several towels under the remainder of your left arm.

As Kerry moved away to get tools ready, Margie came back with not just an IV drip, but juggling a couple machines that were on rolling stands. “If you’re already nervous, don’t look at Kerry when they come back,” zhe warned, fussing with some sensors that zhe then moved to stick to your skin in various areas. “In fact, you can just close your eyes and relax at this point; I’ll give you the ready-go when I’m going to knock you out, but you don’t need to pay attention to anything from here on.”

Your face went a little cold—you hadn’t thought of that before and were suddenly very thankful to Margie for mentioning it. You nodded quietly and kept your eyes on all the machinery that Margie had with zer, watching zer for cues even though zhe had given you permission to not look. Hearing Kerry rolling a stand over to your left side made you instinctively close your eyes, though—stubborn as you were, the fear grabbed a hold of your subconscious and dispelled any contrariness.

“Ready Kerry?” you heard Margie ask from your right side.

“Ready when Simon is,” they replied from your left.

You took a deep, steadying breath, and nodded. “Let’s, get it over with.”

“M’kay, little stick in your right arm,” came Margie’s voice from the darkness. The stick smarted without visual input dampening the sensory experience, and it was followed by a piece of tape being stuck to your skin—probably to keep it in place. “We’ll see you soon; kick that thing’s ass if y—”

The atrium that held the Last Tree was dark, as dark as it ever was, ever since the Quiet Rapture. There wasn't a soul around, when usually there was someone, a Brother guarding the area, or Petitioners, or Gardeners—anyone.

The tree was a sorry sight—it had been for a long time, and no matter how many people recognized that it looked poorly, none wanted to accept it was dead. Not dying, dead. It’s bare branches still held a few long petrified leaves, a pitiful sight to behold when it didn’t feel as though it was all that long ago it’s foliage was full and beautiful, soaking in the fading starlight that still reached the atrium.

In the silence, you moved to sit on the retaining wall that surrounded the Tree’s soil. You moved your left hand to touch the soil, letting your fingers dig into the loam, unafraid to do so, even knowing what the loam was comprised of. If anything, it felt reverential to do so, knowing that it was your hand that assisted in putting that loam there. It’d been too long since the last Salvation for the loam to be wet, but it was pleasantly damp as you caressed it.

“I’m sorry.”

Your voice echoed in the atrium, regardless of how softly you had spoken. Nothing moved besides your hand and your chest with your breathing, and no sound made a response to your apology.

“I can't come home,” you said, hardly above a mutter, and yet it boomed in the silence of the atrium. “I’m not making it back to the Grove. I’m not your Son anymore. Please don’t wait up for me.”

Your fingers found a thin root within the loam that had tunneled its way toward the retaining wall in the Tree’s prime; it felt blasphemous to touch it, but also oddly comforting at the same time. You instinctively moved to hold it, as though you were holding your mother’s hand—in a way, you were, as she had been in that loam at one point, and thus was part of the Tree. Maybe that’s why it felt so comforting, as blasphemous as it was to be touching the Tree.

You sat in silence, holding the Tree’s root, for an indistinguishable amount of time. It was the most at peace you’d felt in a very, very long time; no one watching you, nothing expected of you to do, no where to be, no one to meet.

As you realized how odd that was, the sense of peace began to fade. Everyone was expected to contribute, to have tasks, to report to someone. Were you dead?

The sound of a droplet falling from somewhere—the first sound you’d heard besides your own voice—stopped your line of thinking, and you looked up at the Tree proper.

Due to the low light, it was hard to see, and at first, the Tree looked as it did when you arrived—wait, when did you arrive here? How?—but upon closer inspection, there was something on the bark, moving, just barely glistening in the pale starlight. Your face went cold, and you pulled your hand back from the soil as you studied it—it was covered in blood. You quickly stood up from where you sat and stepped back, your breath hurried as you watched the improbable—what the fuck was going on?

Your senses shifted suddenly, and your hand burned, the searing pain familiar to being in the sub as it filled with blood. You looked down at your left hand—it looked as though you’d just pulled it out of the blood ocean, not the Tree’s soil; it dripped with rivulets of blood, the skin on your hand being eaten away by it the longer you looked, your own blood mixing with it.

Panicked, you tried to wipe it on your pants, but the damage had been done, and the skin revealed underneath was blistered or rotted away, just as it had been during your time in the sub. You swore as your brain registered the pain, but movement around you caught your attention.

Looking back up at the Tree, you saw that the soil had become saturated with the blood, which was threatening to overflow the Tree’s retaining wall. You stepped back further away from the Tree as the blood did overflow, and began spilling in that awful, viscous sounding way that it had when flooding into the sub.

Movement near the Tree’s trunk, something solid that blocked out the fading starlight behind it, caught your attention. A figure stepped out from behind the Tree, and trudged through the blood, seemingly unhindered by the thick fluid, even though it came up to the shape’s shins. As you stepped further back, the figure became clearer—it was the hallucination monster, the mutated you.

Instinctively, you reached for your knife, and, surprisingly, your hand landed on it’s familiar shape; in a practiced motion, you whipped it out into a ready position—wait, why was it surprising that you had your knife? You didn’t go anywhere without it. Though you continued to step away as the creature advanced on you, you felt much safer armed.

As the creature neared the retaining wall, you brought your knife up into a threatening position, but before it could try to step past the retaining wall, it’s forward movement halted, though it was obvious that the creature was struggling in an attempt to continue moving forward. You gawked at the scene before you as tree roots grew up and out of the blood, enveloping the creature, not unlike how the fleshy growths in the sub grew onto your hand and arm—wait, what? You looked down to see your left hand, the one that you had used to so tenderly caress the Tree’s soil, was gone—just like the missing arm on the creature, the mutated you.

Your brain fought itself to figure out what was current, what was true, but it kept getting drawn back to look at the monster. It was fighting the roots of the tree, reaching out with it’s one arm to threaten you, just like it had in your last nightmare.

Nightmare. You were dreaming.

The surgery. Margie had said that dreams were fucked up on anesthesia. Hoo boy was this a fucked up one, and your brain hurt to register that you were dreaming.

Were you actually dreaming?

NOW THAT THE LIGHT HAS SEEN YOU, IT WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU

That wasn’t the fish monster’s voice. That sounded… like your own, but… wrong. You stared panickedly at the you-monster. Was that The Light? That, thing you hadseen in that vision?

A switch flipped in your brain as you realized what the sentence it said meant. It was the cause of all this. It was wearing your skin, that it stole and mutated, to torment you. As long as it had a connection to you, it would never leave you be. A rage boiled up in your chest, and taking advantage of the Tree holding the monster in place, you charged up to where it was encased and drove your knife—your father’s prized possession—into it’s skull.

The horror stopped moving and went limp in the Tree’s roots. Breathing heavily, you stared at the limp corpse, just like you had all the others you’d forced the life out of. This one, so full of pain and anguish, seemed different than the others; there was no peace in it’s deathmask, though you weren’t sure if that was because it was an unnatural being with a sole purpose, or if the mutations of it’s face made it unable to make any expressions at all. It was a gruesome thing to look upon, and the more you stared, the more you saw yourself under the mutations.

Leaving the knife, you stepped back, registering the silence of the atrium once more. The blood had stopped flowing from the Tree, and not a single drop moved from where it rested. The Tree, glistening in the fading starlight from the drops of blood that still clung to it’s bark, stood in a gory reminder of what you were, who you have been—but there was a new feeling it gave you. You looked to where the you-monster was still restrained by the Tree’s roots—the Tree had saved you.

Your face scrunched up to cry. After all the atrocities you performed in It’s benefit, It repaid you.

It gave you the chance to have a second chance at life.

“Thank you,” you choked out, your voice echoing in the atrium.

“I love you. Take good care of me,” came that soft voice in your ear, the one that had only spoke a couple times previously.

You hadn't expected an answer. “What?” you asked reflexively.

You felt yourself holding something in your right hand. Lifting it up and opening your palm, you found the seed pendant, the seedling having grown even larger than it had been when it was returned to your apartment, it’s tiny branches splitting the glass further, it’s roots spreading further in search of soil.

“Go, go now, my Son… Leave this place, and don’t come back. There’s nothing left here for you. Your people are waiting for you.”

The brightness of the medical center was nearly blinding versus the Last Tree’s atrium, but it felt as though your eyes were mostly adjusted already to the light level. Disorientated, your brain registered Margie, Kerry, and Caleb standing around you, watching you with anticipation.

Your brain didn’t register what Margie said, just that zhe said something as you lifted your right hand to look for the pendant—it wasn't there. You looked around with confusion, vaguely recognizing the room you were in, but your thoughts were jumbled.

“Are you okay, Bro?” came Caleb’s voice.

His calling you by your shared title snapped your attention to him. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Margie and Kerry give Caleb a curious look.

“What the fuck—” You didn’t know why you said that.

“Hey,” he moved to grab your hand and held it tightly but with gentleness—it was familiar, and you returned it reflexively. “You’re out of surgery, Kerry was able to take off the rest of that mutated tissue on your arm.” You watched him blankly, trying to get your brain to comprehend what he was saying. “You don’t have much left there, mostly just your shoulder, but based on some preliminary tests, you shouldn’t have any more nerve pain.”

The surgery. Your arm. You nodded, only somewhat comprehendingly.

“Do you see the tooth monster anywhere?” Kerry’s voice came.

The you-monster. At first, you looked around wildly to see if it was in the room anywhere, but then the dream came back to you. “No,” you said flatly. “I killed it.”

You caught Margie and Kerrys’ confused flinches, and that seemed to give you some more clarity of mind. You gripped Caleb’s hand tighter, using it as grounding yourself in reality. “You, were right, Margie, that is, some fucked up dreaming on anesthesia.” You looked directly at zer. “I… I don’t know if it was a dream, or, another hallucination, or, another vision, but.” You nodded without realizing why you were doing it. “I killed it. I had to. It was going to haunt me for the rest of my life if I didn’t. I’m.. not even sure if that will stop it.”

The three medics watched you with what you could interpret as concern. As you thought about what you just said, a disproportionately strong urge overtook you.

“I need to talk to Joseph—” you moved to get off the table, and all three medics jumped into action to stop you. “I need to talk to Joseph—vie can’t let anyone else go to that FUCKING MOON—”

“Simon, wait—“ Kerry pleaded, body blocking your chest with their weight.

“No, what you NEED to do is rest,” Margie said sternly, reaching across you to hook zer hands on your side opposite where zhe was standing.

“Simon, you’re not thinking straight, the anesthesia is fucking with you—“ Caleb growled, as from his position, he had the best angle to fight your center of gravity as you tried to get down.

“I NEED to talk to Joseph—“ you growled back, not even sure why you were fighting.

“Brother!” Caleb barked, getting your attention with his tone—it was familiar. You stopped fighting and snapped your eyes up to pay attention to him. “You are going to fucking stay right here and rest. Father’s orders!”

Something in your disorientated brain heeded his words, and you fell in line. “..Yes, sir,” you replied smally. Why did that work?

“Help me get him back on the table right,” Caleb grumbled to his fellow medics.

“What the fuck?” Margie asked, looking at Caleb as the three of them lifted you to reorientate you on the surface you were laying on. You dutifully stayed where they placed you, moving placidly as Kerry fussed with your pillow and blankets.

Caleb shook his head. “Not the time, Marg. I’ll explain later.” He looked pointedly at you. “You’re injured. You’re confused. You need rest. You are going to rest, or so help me, I’ll make you do it, you understand me, Brother?”

You nodded quietly.

Caleb looked to Margie and Kerry. “Hopefully he didn’t tear his stitches with his flailing. I’ll sit with him, make sure that he comes off the anesthesia correctly and without any more instances—I think I have just the thing to do it.”

“I want to know exactly what that was, later, Caleb,” Margie seemed overly harsh in zer words.

Caleb looked thoroughly reprimanded, but nodded. “I’ll message you. And I’ll call for you if I need assistance.”

Your consciousness flickered and faded watching Caleb for further instruction.

The light level was darker than you expected it to be when you woke up next, as was the comfort of the surface you were laying on. Memories came back to your brain in pieces: the vague recollection of being assisted onto the bed in your room in the medical center, Caleb reminding you of the surgery and to rest, a med refresh… They seemed out of order and strangely both clear and hazy, and as you lifted your hand to scrub your face in tiredness, you noticed Lea was sitting in the room, looking at a tablet.

Your movement caught her attention and she looked up at you. “Good evening, Simon, how’re you feeling?”

You weren’t awake enough to do inventory on yourself yet. “Where’s Caleb?” What was Lea doing here?

She gave a smile. “He’s off shift, hopefully heading to bed, if not already sleeping.’

Your brow furrowed. “Time is it?”

“Around 2230.” Something didn’t seem to be adding up in your brain, and she caught onto it. “Yeah, normally Margie is the night shift attendant, but because she came in early to assist with your surgery, I volunteered to take night shift.”

The surgery. Right. Still, your brain got stuck on Caleb for some reason. As you looked down to inspect the final result from the surgery, it came back to you and you quickly looked back to Lea. “Is, is Caleb okay? ...I think I got him into trouble..”

Her smile softened. “He’s fine. Margie was assigned here and started working with us after his Realization so zhe didn’t know he’s from Eden, and I don’t think zhe realized you were either, so zhe… thought he was just yelling at you, which of course is no way to handle a patient.” She chuckled. “From the briefing,” the way she said that word sounded more like she meant “gossip”, “I was given by both of them, Caleb told zer where you’re both from, and that you grew up together and that his outburst was how you both were raised to obey orders. And from both of their accounts, it seemed to work—the anesthesia really did a number on your comprehension, and that got you to calm down.

You nodded in agreement. “I can hardly remember anything since then, and yeah, I was fucked up. ...Is he in trouble?”

She shook her head. “Once Margie was informed about the situation, and saw the results, and that he was being truthful, he wasn't in any real reprimand. Zhe’s still upset at him, but… y’know, supervisors are going to be upset.” She watched you for a few moments. “From their reports, you seemed very insistent on needing to speak to Joseph. Do you remember what that was all about?”

The dream you had while under anesthesia hit you like a freighter. You pressed your hand to your face to try and get your composure back, your jaw tense trying not to tear up. After taking a shaky breath, you replied, if only to try and get your thoughts off the most emotional parts of it: “Yeah, uh. I had a. Fucked up dream while on anesthesia—Margie said it was possible, but—” Lea doesn’t know about the hallucination monster, you recalled. “Um…” You swallowed hard, trying to figure out how to tell her about it, especially if it, hopefully, wasn't going to be an issue any more. “You, know, I’m, taking anti-psychotics, I know you do, it’s. In my chart. Um. Something… followed me off that moon. We don’t… know what it is, but. The anti-psychotics seem to keep it at bay. It’s a hallucination—well, no one else can see it so it got called that, but, is also somehow, physical enough to have threatened my life.” She made a concerned noise. “It’s—it’s in my file, if you want to see. But. Margie and Kerry were afraid that, because anesthesia makes your dreams fucked up, that it would threaten me again, even on the anti-psychotic—that’s why Caleb was here, to assist. It, did, threaten me, in the dream. But I killed it. In the dream.” You moved your hand to look to her, and she was watching you with concern. “Something about that dream. Made me realize that if I didn’t, it was going to continue to stalk me. Some… dream logic, I dunno, made it make sense that, the hallucination monster was what tied the thing on the moon, to me. The hallucination monster is me… but, mutated, completely over taken by all this, anomalous growth. It stole my face, and used a mutated, fucked up version of me, to follow me here—it could do that to anyone… So, when I first woke up from that, it felt like I needed to tell Joseph, they cannot send anyone else back there…”

She was quiet as she digested that, thinking of something to say. “Sounds like you, should still tell vir that, but. Because it’s late, vie won't be accepting visitors of course.”

You nodded quietly at that.

“Are you okay? That seems like a pretty harrowing dream.”

You nodded slowly. “It was… a lot. But… it feels as though, it needed to happen. I was, really scared to go under right before the surgery, but, now it feels like I needed to experience that… and that killing that thing may have gotten rid of it for good.”

“Fingers crossed that’s true, then,” she said with a light tone. “You sound pretty lucid now though, how’s your head? How’s your pain?”

You took a deep sigh to take inventory of yourself now that you were more awake. “I feel, much better than earlier. Thinking about it, I definitely wasn't all here earlier; I think that’s why Caleb’s orders worked as well as they did… I was half back on Eden, from that dream… I.. think he might have realized that, actually.” You trailed off, sitting with the hazy memory of when you’d first woken up, trying to get it to be clearer in your head. “Um.” You looked to your left arm, and finally got to study it.

It was of course wrapped in plenty of bandaging, but even with the assumption of multiple millimeters of bandaging, possibly centimeters, there wasn't much left, just as Caleb had said when you woke up. Where you’d gotten used to at least 10cm of what remained of your left arm being there, it didn’t look like there was more than what most people could define as one’s shoulder. Out of morbid curiosity, you tried moving it—it was stiff because it was bandaged so tightly, but you did feel like you could move the shoulder socket, so they’d kept that much. It didn’t hurt beyond what you’d expect for just having surgery on it, but then you realized—it hurt.

You looked to Lea. “When was the last time I had nerve block refreshed?”

She looked to her tablet and tapped around on it some. “About 17 hours ago, so it’s very much worn off. And, you don’t seem to be in extraordinary amounts of nerve pain, so, preliminarily, I’d say the surgery was a success.” She gave you a smile.

You sighed in relief and let your eyes close. At least that was done and over with.

“Now, you do have a drain in the closure,” Lea said from within the darkness. “Kerry was able to close up the terminal end with your skin that was already there, but that tends to trap draining fluid from healing, so a drain was put in place to relieve that. When it looks like it’s full of fluid, let one of us know and we can show you how to empty it, okay? It might be me tonight, but if not, Caleb in the morning.”

You nodded quietly.

“Tired?” she asked.

You shook your head. “Just, relieved.” After all, you had been sleeping all day.

“Ready to be out of our hair?” she asked with mirth.

You chuckled. “I guess, that is a good question… Do you want to keep me anymore, then?”

“For the night, of course,” she said. “Observation for any physical issues with anesthesia, sprung leaks… The usual.” The way she said it made you chuckle more. “And of course, we’ll want to see you every other day for physical therapy. You’ve got a lot to relearn…” She trailed off and was quiet for a few moments. “Did you really grow up with Caleb? What a small world, even with our circumstances.”

You made a noncommittal noise and opened your eyes to look to her. “Sort of. We were both part of Eden’s special forces, and, yeah most of us were kids and raised together under the banner. If we were younger I might recognize him, but, we were in separate squadrons as adults. He’s still my Brother, always will be, though.”

Lea gave you a smile. “That’s gotta be really reassuring, knowing you’ve at least got someone here. When he got here, he was so lost. It took him well over a year to settle in, I felt so bad for him.”

You nodded. “It feels too coincidental, but. I’m really glad that coincidence happened.”

She shrugged. “Maybe Joseph planned it that way. When we got word you were incoming, and the condition you were in, we were all prepared for the worst; if vie knew how bad off you were, then setting you up with someone you knew might’ve been vir plan to help you rebound easier. Nothing’s worse than being in a new place, with unfamiliar, if not hostile, faces, when you’re already in a bad way.”

You gave her a look that you hoped was not accusatory, but questioned how she knew that was the exact way things felt.

“Caleb has confided in me over the years. We don’t get many Realized Edenites, and it sounds like the council spreads you all out across the Consolidation—if I had to guess, so you all can't conspire against the Council,” she said that with a sarcastic flair. “But, being in a foreign culture with no way to contact anyone from your original home sounds so awful, and it’s taken a toll on Caleb. He’s told me about his Brothers he was captured with, and how he’s the most personable of the lot of them, so it makes me sad thinking how lonely it must be for them, seeing how lonely he is. Eden sounds like a very lonely place, and at least you all seem to have had each other…”

You nodded. “I’m… learning just how lonely it was. When you’re in the midst of something, and don’t know any alternatives… That’s just how life is. It’s… so, so different here.” You looked at her pointedly. “Did, did you know I was from Eden, before today?”

She gave you a smile. “I recognized your tattoo, since I’ve seen Caleb’s. I was wondering when he was going to say something, the other day, since I know he saw it, but I also know that he’s done a lot of work converting to Consolidation beliefs since he was Realized, and hiding he’s from Eden. With Marg in the room, I should’ve known better.”

You sat with that, remembering how …sermonic Caleb’s words were when speaking about the Council. Once a Son, always a Brother, as he said… Still, it felt too coincidental that Joseph didn’t choose to send you to this station, with the several stations the COI had in it’s conglomerate, but it also didn’t make sense, especially agreeing with Lea’s assumption that the COI would choose to isolate Edenites from each other, why vie’d choose to let the two of you have contact. Her argument made sense, but, especially with Joseph knowing that you were the most dangerous of the Edenites they’d captured, (you had to be, right? They couldn’t get more dangerous than you.) why would vie choose to let you fraternize with one of your Brothers? “You are the most tempered Edenite I’ve had the pleasure of handling,” vir complement hung in your head. But, prior to actually meeting you on the transport, there was no way that vie would have known how personable you were, so that couldn’t have swayed vir decision… Maybe Caleb had something to do with it? Was Joseph Caleb’s liaison too? Did Joseph know how Caleb spoke of the Council? Did he want you two in contact perhaps to make you more biddable toward the Council, seeing one of your Brothers was?

You must have been lost in thought for longer than you realized, because eventually Lea spoke up: “Are you hungry?” her voice broke the silence. “I’m sure you’re starting to get used to the great meals we have on station, and it’ll be nothing near that quality, but I can get you something to eat.”

You had to digest her words for a second, broken out of your line of thought as you were, before you realized what she was asking. “Oh, sure.”

“I’ll be right back, then,” she chirped, moving to stand and headed out of the room, taking her tablet in tow.

As you watched her go, a creeping seed of doubt and contrariness took hold in the back of your mind. As soon as you realized it had, you shook your head, as if to knock it loose—you trusted your Brothers. Besides, whether Caleb had bought wholly into the COI’s beliefs or not, you were no better, being disillusioned with Eden’s teachings. You recognized it as Fathers’ teachings to be distrustful of the COI—yet, you realized there wasn’t a real good reason to be distrustful of them, not in your position, and not with the sheer leniency you’d seen the Council themselves display. You laying here was all the evidence you needed of that.

You sighed, and took a moment to pause and try to push away all the conspiratorial thoughts. Needing something else to fill the void, you looked around to see where your stuff was—as it was your room, your little tablet was still sitting on the side table, with your satchel on the floor beside it. You reached for the tablet—taking a second try at it after you realized how stiff you were from being in bed most of the day—and grabbed it, then stood it on it’s short end on your chest to carefully hold in a position you could type on it. You tapped over to Joseph’s message log—even though it was late, vie had told you you could message vir at any time—and began to type.

“I would like do two things with you tomorrow, if you are free; I would like to to give my official account of what happened on the blood moon, and I wish to schedule the rest of my integration classes as I think I’ll be well enough to do so within the normal timeframe. As well, I would like to officially take up your offer on being a consultant for Edenian matters.”

You read the message over several times, making sure it said exactly what you wanted it to, before sending the message.

You weren’t sure if vie would think you were capable of giving your official statement yet, but even if vie said no, it at least got you in the door and able to argue for not sending anyone else to that God-forsaken hellhole. The anesthetic-induced dream haunted you, the face of the hallucination monster, listless in the Tree’s roots, stuck in your mind’s eye like an image burnt into a screen. The Tree… The Seedling—

You tapped out of the message log with Joseph, and over to Caleb’s—hopefully this didn’t wake him.

“I need to talk to Alyx. Do you know when she’s in the Commons?”