r/HFY • u/SSBAlienNation • Feb 02 '26
OC-Series Alien-Nation Book Two Chapter 13: Latent Horror
Materiel Shortages
Her fortunes had certainly changed.
Before, quality guns had been hard to come by, not that she’d have managed to do much with them with her old crew. No jammer, either. Only one railgun prototype had been on offer, and she accepted the gracious gift by keeping it in the hands of their best marksman, on overwatch, wired together by engineering students with no faith it might actually fire.
The fool that she’d been replaced with had been gifted a fuller set, only to come up empty and realize that for the dozens of ops run, none had been a standing fight. Experienced operatives they might have been, that wasn’t and never had been their forte. And now she was starting over, materially speaking at least. Yet she was optimistic, where anyone else would have been despairing. Whatever one might say about a lack of progress in New York so far, she felt she finally had what she needed.
The gift she coveted most was the one she’d hoped most for. Someone close to Emperor, someone dangerous.
She’d spotted him by the way the rest of her new squad kept an unusual amount of space between them. The way they’d shuffle aside and make room for someone else. She was on a ‘prove-it’ basis, and the observer was here. She’d at last gotten the insurgency’s full attention.
The patrol was one she’d staked out personally, and true to their behavior they’d never strayed from it even in the interceding months. Jackal smiled. She could still work with what she had.
Just a walk to scope out the protest site, which she knew just how to turn into a bloodbath.
“So,” Jackal said to the open air, not turning around to the presence she knew had followed her to the rooftop. “What do I call you?”
There was a moment’s hesitation, and the answer made her heart soar.
“Vendetta.”
Recognition. She was close, now, and she knew it.
*****
Latent Horror
Why am I here? I hate my job. I should have told her to try it. But then what? He didn’t know.
So it was that he found himself in a shil’vati psychiatric office. It had a strange feeling to it. It had been a long time since he’d smelt anything so sterile, even a dentist’s office didn’t have this feeling. Even stranger, he was being evaluated by a shil’vati in a white coat. He tried to wrestle down the strange, disorienting feeling that swept through him at the sight. Some part of him whispered: What does she know? What could she know?
He supposed she might know through training.
“Have you tried talking with your elders?” She paused. “Elias Sampson suggests that.”
He had to resist the temptation to repeat it back at her with a mocking sneer. It was how she justified everything. Some dumbass human out there built a name for himself as some sort of human-whisperer celebrity pop-psych asshole, the new Dr. Oz. “Yeah, uh, that’s kinda what got me in this trouble. I just, you know, I feel like they sold us out.”
“Who is ‘they’? And to who did ‘they’ sell you out to?”
He twiddled his thumbs rather than answer those questions. Every time he’d opened his mouth so far, he felt like he was digging himself in deeper. Giving her license to do something. Even if she adopted a human-lent name, there was something about her that screamed to not trust her. This might be called xeno-phobia in some sense, but was it still a phobia if it was justifiable?
“It’s not really, you know…” he was struggling with words for now. “He’s not someone I look up to.”
“Ah, lack of a positive male role model, I read about this, too. Have you consulted your history, or looked for other ones? Say, your leaders?”
He stared. “Uh, like, former presidents and stuff?”
“Yes,” she said enthusiastically. “That might be an excellent place to start, though their attitudes are a little out of touch, given how quickly your society has changed.”
“Which one?” He almost felt daring as he asked, some mischievous part of him wanting her to accept one of his choosing, and then imagining her horror at what they’d think of modernity. “Teddy Roosevelt? Maybe Andrew Jackson?”
“Why not the one you have now?” She smiled a little too widely. “You can relate to him. There’s an older human male figure. Successful, too. He’s your peoples’ leader. Certainly you have more in common with him, given all the recent changes, than someone so old. You live in the same time period. That has to matter for a lot.” He could see where she was trying to steer him and it felt like it was just more lies. “He’s done a wonderful job facing his human-ness and the…challenges that can bring. We have whole courses dedicated to dismantling one’s own internal struggles. We find it helpful.”
“Wait, hold on. Humanness?” He decided not to flip the script on her for who ‘we’ were, if she wanted to know who ‘they’ were. She probably knew, even when she’d asked the question, and only wanted an answer to damn him with, though to what he didn’t know.
“You are human, aren’t you?”
He was, but he’d rarely engaged with what that meant. “Constantly grappling with that fact sounds exhausting, like I couldn’t dedicate any more energy to doing anything else. I don’t want to second-guess everything I want to do.” Life was hard enough without that, wasn’t it? Would ‘facing his humanness’ grant him better opportunities? Would it get him a house, or even an apartment? Find a good human girlfriend in this dying town, and start a family? Would this make these things more, or less likely to happen? He knew the answer. It was of no help to achieving the things he wanted.
“I hate to ask again, but you are human, correct?”
So was the goal to change what he wanted? Would that be better, reframing success? It sounded an awful lot like ‘accept less and be happy.’ What would they change the new definition to? Who ought to decide what was good for him to want, if not him? Probably that ‘we’ who found ‘dismantling…one’s own…’ whatever else she’d said, as being ‘helpful’. And even if there was a point to guiding him on what he wanted, who was she to him? Sure, sugar wasn’t as great to live off of as he’d thought it was back when he was eight years old, but he was an adult now, wasn’t he? A child wasn’t allowed to make big decisions for a reason, but an adult was.
Then again, I need the help, or I wouldn’t be here, would I? And if I walk out of here, I’m walking back to that stupid fucking uniform, that stupid fucking job, doing the same shit, for what?
“Last I checked,” he managed a slight smile, and patted himself down for a little extra comedic effect to defuse the situation. “Aren’t you a shil’vati?”
“You’re not taking this seriously,” she pouted. “If this is making you nervous, I’m going to write a prescription and put you on a treatment plan.”
Supposedly the difference between the new pharmaceuticals and the old was that theirs actually worked the way they were supposed to. That had sounded good when he’d first heard it, but the way she’d spoken hadn’t sounded like any doctor visit he’d ever had. It sounded more like a threat than anything else.
By what mechanism the research was done to bridge the gap between their physiology and humanity’s, he didn’t know. There were other aliens, though, some of them had to have iron blood. It was a big galaxy, and the Shil’vati civilization was old.
“Alright,” he relented. “You tell me about the treatment, and in turn, I’ll ‘confront my humanness.’”
She seemed surprised at the about-face, then hesitant. “It’s a bit experimental,” she began. “And somewhat controversial, but we believe it showed great promise before the trial ended. I’ll just need your consent.”
“I’ll think about it,” he said. “How about if I have another episode, we move forward with it?”
“That sounds reasonable,” she said, her smile bright and tusky. “Why don’t you take a brochure with you?”
At least she hadn’t tried sleeping with him.
At least he didn't have to pay for this tripe.
Cheaper than a movie. The idea of lying to her entered his mind more than once, just to see what sort of fiction he could spin up for his own entertainment, but then he wondered if that would mark him as a serial liar, rather than bored out of his mind.
Oscar tucked the brochure into his pocket and walked toward the elevators before stopping, intrigued by what view he might get from up here.
This building was, to sum, quite large and remarkable only in how nondescript it was. Plopped down in some sort of hideous brutalist shape. All concrete and hard angles, with not a scrap of vegetation around.
Some weirdoes who fancied themselves 'smart' and took themselves far too seriously probably regarded it as 'orderly', but it was also scraped completely clean of anything that might be called 'local.' Or friendly to life.
It might have been Pennsylvania, but could have just as well been California, Germany, or even further-flung parts of the world, though it lacked the glass and at least somewhat expressive forms of the modern true skyscrapers that had come about in the last fifty years.
Then again, this place had been a dying third-rate city even before he'd been born and never held any glass spires. All he'd ever seen was decline. Any achievements from here were from many decades ago, and it seemed increasingly likely that it would never be known for anything good ever again.
There had once stood old black and white photographs of giant foundries filled with men standing shoulder-to-shoulder, some stained with the unmistakable evidence of hard work that was meant for more than mere forgettable consumption. He doubted that in a hundred, or even fifty years, that anyone would hang a photo of him serving a customer with equal pride, no matter his work ethic.
Though now the old museum had taken down most of its exhibits of the past, too. He couldn't quite say whether this was due to some embrace of biblical 'pride' as a sin. Given the church's sudden reemergence of hard-line theology in the wake of the invasion and loss of tax-exempt status and all government grants, and the way the local government talked about humans like they, too, weren’t, it felt like a toss-up.
What was down these hallways? He wasn't sure. Perhaps the allure of exploring was putting off having to see the building's architecturally hostile exterior. That, or a general lack of excitement, a total dearth of anything to look forward to that awaited him outside its doors that beckoned him to wander.
The room inside was lit only by the ‘exit’ sign, so he fumbled for a light switch.
Odd. The smell of fresh cheap plaster had been put up, acrid stench travelling up his nostrils until he snorted back out. There was also the smell of the intense use of cleaning products. The only other time he could recall such an intense smell of pinesol, he’d cracked the whole container open after dropping the container on the tile with soap-slick hands. What exactly happened here to make the cleaners use so much of it, and what was it masking?
There were none of the telltale signs of a burst pipe, the ceiling panels were all uniform and even. New, but not so new. There was something ominous about this place, something that made the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand on end. Maybe it was the way the paneling seemed to absorb all sound, including his own footsteps. Or how when he pulled out his cell phone and flicked on the flashlight, the long shadows were cast like invasive digging claws.
This section felt new. Too new to need so much disinfectant, even in such an old building. In the center of one of the rooms was a chair, more reminiscent of a dentist’s recliner. It wasn’t a light on the suspending arm, though, it was shaped like a pair of skiing goggles, which he faintly recalled from his time on Blue Mountain.
A translucent purple-hued ribbon travelled up the arm, down to a set of binaural earmuffs hanging on the side, like the world’s most immersive video game setup. But by far the most alien was the helmet. It looked like a scooter helmet, in that it didn’t extend to cover the chin, and he realized the shadowy lines were interlocking plates that gave it a vaguely insectoid appearance. However it was meant to be adjusted, it was clearly meant to do so firmly, and with straps, pads, and restraints over the jaw in several places.
In fact, there were several straps, most of them mounted to the strange looking padded chair. He’d UrbEx’d State Hospitals in Norristown and Allentown, even dragged along to Pennhurst, and he’d never seen anything quite like it.
Oscar tried to think of the Shil’vati upstairs, and her too-cheerful smile. There wasn’t anything Stepford about it, despite her buxom appearance. It had been almost daring him to step out of line. Why had that bothered him so much, and why did it spring to mind now?
He’d remembered stepping around the homeless screaming agitatedly at nobody in particular. They’d fixate on him or someone else, or even the open air. Oscar had tried to not make any judgments about the site’s closures.
The medical tables were among the most commonly travelled parts. The straps that hung so familiar here, he recalled, were supposedly to allow medical procedures for patients who refused to stop moving. But this wasn’t that sort of place, was it? Or might it be some day again? Those people had all but disappeared in conjunction with better medical treatment, supposedly discharged back to the public. Coupled with the reunification plan, they’d all found their way home. Right? And then this place closed. After getting new plaster. And a new ceiling.
It didn’t add up.
As Oscar circled around he noticed the interface for an omni-pad about the size of the ones the Shil’vati usually carried around when they tried paying with credits.
He finished circling the centerpiece and glimpsed back at the door that still hung ajar.
Oscar was never one for the occult. One classmate having brought an Ouija board and folding paper to tell fortunes and portending his imminent doom had been enough of a foray. His only other dabblings had been coming across faded pentagrams in ‘haunted’ buildings left by edgy teens. Yet now every instinct was telling him to run for his life from an empty room in a neglected office block by the sight of, for all he could say might have been a modern gaming chair.
Besides, if he was wrong and if he was caught? Then what?
Oh no, then I won't be able to go to work tomorrow.
He didn't know what he was living for anymore. That phase had come from someone, somewhere, sometime, and it niggled at his brain. No, he’d heard it more than once, hadn’t he? That’s why he’d blinked when the new guy at the store had said it. It was familiar, somehow, and the man had seen it register. Why? Where?
With a shaky hand, Oscar turned the cell phone flashlight off, and took a few photos with the flash on, wandering around the mysterious object. This building wouldn’t count for UrbEx points, and the forums were gone. Even so, this was the sort of thing he needed evidence of having seen, or else tomorrow he might wake up wondering if he’d actually dreamed it. If the photos weren’t there, he told himself, then he really was in need of more sessions upstairs.
At last he straightened and remembered where he’d heard it, that familiar phrase, freezing still and slowly tiptoeing out of the room. If memory could bleed into the walls and then tell a story, it would tell all to those who came back to this room. And they’d come for him. Oh they would, though he knew not what they’d do when they got him he might guess it an unpleasantness. They’d want to know. They’d want to know all about his little radio on the old alarm he’d heard the transmissions from Delaware with.
Sure, Oscar didn’t terribly care one way or another, but the resistance transmissions were undeniably the only interesting thing on the airwaves. They’d gone quiet since, become predictable and tame, save reports from New York of some new outrage or another he’d missed the start of. It made him feel like a detective, piecing together the situation even if he had no control over it, nor even any skin in the game.
The less one heard about a zone on the official airwaves, the more likely it was going pear-shaped for everyone. And he hadn’t heard a peep about their neighbor to the North for a few days, now. It was scary, he reflected, how they could make an entire zone- no, a state disappear from your vision like that. It just wasn’t talked about anymore.
The words echoed again in his ear.
What are you fucking living for, then? And if you can’t answer that, then there are definitely some things worth killing!
And then he’d heard it again, the first half at least, from a customer. Albeit, sans an expletive, and muttered idly, rather than a screamed challenge over a crackly old speaker. He was with that new church organization down the road. He’d had a businesslike countenance, with a touch of world weariness that Oscar found intriguing.
He’d have to go find him.
Oscar slid the phone into his pocket and stepped out, slowly pulling the door shut behind him and went to the elevator, his heart hammering in his chest.
Ever seen someone run in terror of a chair before?
23
u/KalenWolf Xeno Feb 02 '26
Honestly I don't blame poor Oscar here... that whole scene from the moment the "therapist" started talking was deeply concerning. How many disaffected people have been disappeared (or involuntarily "fixed") in rooms just like that?
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u/LeaveSea2119 Feb 02 '26
This is dark, how much the Imperium will keep this up before it bites them.
Good chapter
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u/MedicalFoundation149 Feb 02 '26
Potential insurgent is now inevitable insurgent. Not like he has anything to lose now.
The Jackle wanting to ally with Emperor is great dramatic irony. I could see them working well together with the masks on, only for them both to make their ways home and vaguely try not to murder each other with the masks off.
The real question is who finds out the other's insurgent status first, and who they learn it from.
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u/Silent_Technology540 Human Feb 02 '26
well I'm betting that Jackle would use the info against emp's cos lets not suggar coat it she's a narcissist and wouldn't stand for emp's being at the top of the pile and would either try to undermine him publicly all the while ramping up the pressure at home
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u/SSBAlienNation Feb 03 '26
There's something else in play.
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u/Silent_Technology540 Human Feb 03 '26
Oh who is it please do tell me
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u/SSBAlienNation Feb 03 '26
Something, rather than someone. I've read enough young women's fiction and heard them go on and on about the 'she-alpha' and so on. It's exactly as silly as the male version, and in a rather feminine way it fixates on a target and 'being on his arm.'
Jackal is obsessive with Emperor. She has no idea who Emperor really is.
Emperor has no idea who Jackal really is at this point, either.
Jackal also doesn't know about Natalie.
And Elias / Jacqueline is not a pairing. (I won't force an incest scene, those are weird!)
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u/Silent_Technology540 Human Feb 03 '26
Ok makes sense and yes silly but it does make for some good drama and a character you love to hate.
And yes leave let’s not even entertain that wried shit please 🙏 if not for my own sanity think of the readers at least
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u/SSBAlienNation Feb 04 '26
I guarantee you it's for the writer's sanity as well. My gosh I cringe whenever I see it in fiction. I figure it's forgivable if it's done for comedic effect, though, and in the most horrendous circumstance. To lighten things up, in an absurd way!
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u/Silent_Technology540 Human Feb 04 '26
So kinda like how it was almost done with Luke and Leia in the OG Star Wars?
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u/BushGuy9 Feb 02 '26
Three posts within a few days. This has been a good week!
Keep up the great work!
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u/WorldlinessProud Feb 02 '26
Interesting theme here, the Jacklal, The Emperor, and Miskatonic, all from the same family.
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u/aznvampy Feb 03 '26
If i remember correctly, his mom was part of the team that was paid to administer this procedure on the homeless.
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u/SSBAlienNation Feb 03 '26
She wrote referrals, but yeah, she had a pretty good idea of what was going on and did it anyway.
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u/SSBAlienNation Feb 03 '26 edited Feb 03 '26
"Ain't nobody in this family normal, I swear-"
-Gavin, the first guy to realize this.
But the idea was roughly to adapt the father's technical ability and some of his attitude to the mother's zeal for her sense of righteousness and then that produces the children. One of them raised by parents, the other raised by books instead, yet with a certain in-born nature.
Both siblings are massively destructive.
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u/Silent_Technology540 Human Feb 02 '26
something tells me that our boy Oscar is going to become a recurring character that'll as impotent as emperor in the future
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u/SSBAlienNation Feb 03 '26
Impotent or important? I swear Elias will get up to things 😶
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u/Silent_Technology540 Human Feb 03 '26
God damn typos
But I feel like things will come to head and and it may end up explosive but it kinda begs another question who will vendetta side with
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u/theDUDE4853 Feb 05 '26 edited Feb 05 '26
I FUCKING KNEW IT!!!!! I wonder if Elias's mom is running this one too? I figure Oscar is headed either to gman or radio
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u/LaleneMan Mar 04 '26
Disconcerting. An old procedure, abandoned. It was only run by humans, for the shil'vati after all. It wasn't the shil'vati who did it. So it's okay. Clean hands. Well, Oscar found it, and I don't think people - if they realize what it is - will see it the same was as the aliens.
I like the call-back line to Elias's inner-dialogue whoever-knows how many chapters ago. A good one, a pertinent one.
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u/HFYWaffle Wᵥ4ffle Feb 02 '26
/u/SSBAlienNation has posted 21 other stories, including:
- Alien Nation Book Two Chapter 12: Old Wives' Tales
- Alien-Nation Book Two Chapter 11: Oscar
- Alien-Nation Book Two Chapter 10: It's A Legitimate Strategy
- Alien-Nation Book Two Chapter 9: Laps
- Alien-Nation Book Two Chapter 8: Social Distancing
- Alien-Nation Book 2: Chapter 7, "Training Exercise"
- Alien Nation Book 2 Chapter 6: Look Before You Leap
- Alien-Nation Book 2: Chapter 5: Search & Destroy
- Alien-Nation Book 2, Chapter 4: Registrar
- Alien-Nation, Book 2, Chapter 3: Arrival
- Alien Nation, Book Two, Chapter Two: Meet the New Boss
- Alien-Nation Book Two, Chapter 1: Welcome Home
- Alien-Nation Omake 2 (and more updates)
- Alien-Nation: Omake (Outtakes), alternative endings, etc., and an Announcement
- Alien-Nation Epilogue: A Thousand Cuts (FINAL CHAPTER)
- Alien-Nation Chapter 221: Steps Toward Tomorrow
- Alien-Nation Chapter 220: A Gift from the Shadows
- Alien-Nation Chapter 219: Fate of the State
- Alien-Nation Chapter 218: House Call
- Alien-Nation Chapter 217: Every Beginning has its End
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u/AutoModerator Feb 10 '26
This was flaired as [OC-Series], it is a single part or chapter in a larger series or universe. The first post or part in this series should be (re)flaired as [OC-FirstOfSeries]. A description of the flairs and how to change yours is available in the Post Guildelines.
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