Shiori entered first,
steady, silent, like someone used to walking into dangerous rooms without making a sound.
The control hall greeted her with dim green light
and the hum of hundreds of computational systems.
The space was enormous, layered,
like an inverted tower descending downward.
Pipes carrying hot gas ran along the walls,
their transparent segments flashing with orange bursts,
like the pulse of overheated arteries.
Every few seconds something clicked,
something buzzed,
somewhere deep below, an electric discharge crawled across the floor.
But the main thing was the people.
Several dozen of them.
All wearing identical, faceless protective masks.
Glass visors hid their faces.
Heavy tanks on their backs released a steady hiss.
From that uniform, you couldn’t tell gender, age, or even species.
They stood by the terminals.
Keys clicked rapidly,
short, sharp, like insects beating their wings.
Across massive screens in front of them
ran graphs, formulas, energy spikes,
fractal diagrams,
schematics of suspiciously shaped devices,
and three-dimensional models of droids resembling skeletal versions of Zeros.
Some screens flashed familiar labels:
TEST SUBJECTS:
REAPER / STRESS TEST / FAILURE RATE: 32%.Others:
ASSEMBLY COMPLETE—89%.Shiori moved deeper into the hall,
and only then saw him.
A wide-eyed scientist stood on a platform at the center.
Small. Thin.
Standing on fragile-looking legs,
yet surrounded by a massive exo-frame
holding a thick spherical suit around him,
filled with a dense, milky, fog-like atmosphere.
He had:
- huge protruding eyes, almost entirely golden,
floating in viscous fluid; - short sensory tendrils near his mouth;
- long flexible fingers, each wrapped in a silver manipulator glove;
and a sharp, intelligent smile, almost human,
but too wide, as if his mouth could stretch to his ears.
A hologram glowed on the chest of the suit:
Dr. Gll'Raa-Tüün
Senior Xenophysics EngineerBelow it:
Species: Orbeotian
Pressure: 11 atm
Environment: Gel-State Atmosphere RequiredHe tilted his head, touched the panels with long fingers,
and the spherical suit gently rotated toward the entrance,
locking onto Shiori.
When he spoke, his voice came through the interpreter
high-pitched and wet,
as if someone was trying to talk
while whisking thick slime:
“Who is that over there?..
DAMN! DAMN!
WHERE IS SECURITY LOOKING?!
FIRE THEM ALL! ALL OF THEM!”
He jerked his head sharply,
and his huge eye-bulbs wobbled,
bumping into each other with a faint glassy clink.
“DOCTOR DE’VUJEEER!
Pull yourself away from work for once in your life!
We have pests in the system!”
De’Vujeer was a giant,
twice Shiori’s height,
built like a cabinet standing next to another cabinet.
He wore the same protective suit,
but over it, a ridiculous, overly proper white lab coat,
stuffed with pens, scraps of paper,
and questionable formulas.
On top of his mask, he stubbornly wore glasses,
magnifying the already oversized mask lenses even further.
His personal terminal looked like
someone had fused a server rack
with a piano built for titans.
Hearing the shriek of his colleague,
he turned, adjusted his glasses,
and saw Shiori already
swinging her rifle,
changing targets every half second.
“Doctor… we… um… already fired all the security…
three months ago.”
“WHAT?!” Gll’Raa-Tüün shrieked. “So that’s why… everyone’s just walking in like it’s a park!
Who the HELL authorized that?!”
De’Vujeer rummaged through his pocket,
pulled out a stack of crumpled papers,
flipped through them, found the right one, and read:
“‘We are in damn space.
We are in the middle of nowhere.
Nobody comes here, not even by invitation.
We need to cut the budget.
Fire all security.
They do nothing but get in the way.’04.25.3479—09:05:22 (SST),
signature… Doctor Gll’Raa-Tüün.”
Gll’Raa-Tüün froze.
For a couple of seconds, something inside him clearly clicked into place.
Then he nodded with satisfaction.
“EXCELLENT! Then everything is proceeding according to plan!
Because our SHIRŌ-KAGE™ units are already ready!”
And he burst into laughter—
wet, bubbling, disgustingly moist.
A second later, the other scientists joined in.
Some coughed, some gurgled, some squealed—
and the room filled with a sound
like someone had started a choir of thirty octopuses
inside a bucket of mayonnaise.
At that moment, Blindy walked in.
The scientists kept making their “laughing noises”
until Gll’Raa-Tüün noticed him—
and immediately started twitching his whole body,
like a rabid chihuahua in an exosuit.
“WHAT?! ANOTHER PEST?!”
Blindy walked up quickly
and stopped beside Shiori.
He looked around the room,
his eyes locking onto the giant De’Vujeer.
He swallowed nervously
and, almost automatically, like a neighbor passing by,
gave him a small wave.
“Heh… what a—
what a huge dumbass…Guess we— we gotta fight him…
or—maybe not—maybe—…yeah, probably fight him…
Good thing Shiori’s with us…
’cause I ain’t— I’m not built for that—”
But through the mask, all that came out was:
Mur-mur-mur—mur-mur…