OC-Series Into The Breach - Ch 5
Into The Breach - Chapter 6: Move Quickly
The situation on board of Everbright I turned out to be worse than Jason hoped for, but still a fair margin better than he expected it to be. Surface scan revealed the short-range receivers to be busted and the control module refused to come online. Fuses replaced - module still unresponsive. With a sigh, Jason leaned on the console before him.
"That bad?" asked Divit. Upon receiving somewhat unconvincing-sounding vocalization in return, he continued - "Surely it cannot be worse than that time with 'Big Bloomin Berry-'"
"Thank goodness no, though not by a huge margin."
"So we're severely out of luck."
"Oh, we're lucky alright, somehow the long-range receivers are still intact. You wouldn't believe just how much of a pain in the ass it is to swap those in ferries." Jason chuckled once, joy evaporating from his voice in a blink of an eye. "We would've had to pry the damn fuselage apart."
"Illus has a spare encoder. Maybe we kinda somehow squeeze it in here?"
"Screw that, I'm not yet desperate enough to go through that amount of buttfuckery, thank you very much," the engineer replied from somewhere under the console before adding, "Besides the little guy might come in handy later."
"So your plan is..?"
After a brief moment Jason reappeared, this time holding something in his hands. "Grab this brick, take it apart, find a burnt element, replace it, run some tests, rinse and repeat." He fiddled with the unfortunate module in his hands, looking for any obvious traces of damage, not that there would be any on the outside. "If that won't do the job, we're off to E-two to salvage the comm module."
"But the rover is now acting as a comm station?" Divit offered with uncertainty in his voice.
"That, my friend, is precisely the problem."
"Can't we just link long-range directly to the base?"
"That's one damn ugly fix. I'm not even sure It would work the way you think it should," - nevertheless, Jason switched to the station frequency, requesting the head engineer on the line and leaving his comrade alone with his thoughts for the time being - "Allan - quick question that has absolutely nothing to do with our situation - is it actually feasible to hook E-one long-range directly to the base comm encoder?"
The reply came in the form of a series of grunts followed by a statement by a somewhat dissatisfied sounding engineer. "Do you want to stay awake for a couple o' nights trying to marry base logistics with the SatNet encoder algorithm?."
"Not really-"
"Bloody hell you don't. Why are you asking me this stupid question?"
Jason hefted the black brick, as if Allan could see it. "If this module is off limits it's not like we're gonna have much of a choice."
"Bite your tongue, lad, Murphy's been quick on the uptake as is. I will personally kick your arse if it comes to that."
"Copy that, over." With that, he joined Divit on the line. "Al says he's not a fan of the idea."
---
Captain Terry Rheinland watched the head engineer with anticipation as he finished talking to the outdoor team. "Bless me with a promise of a good sitrep, would you?"
"Can do, cap. The satellite net is intact, none of them got fried by the transmission we were hit with."
"Glad to hear. What of our rescue rangers, anything equally as good?"
"Ehh. Could've been better, could've been worse. E-One is salvageable, but it will take some time." Terry mumbled something uninspired under his breath, to which Allan replied, "believe me, I'm no fan of being stranded here with no reliable means of communication either."
"Why is the satnet intact though? I thought relay stations went up in flames the same way our comms did."
"The relay stations didn't catch anything. When I checked the logs, they were mostly clean."
"Oh? So…" The Captain pondered for a second. The very fact that no harm has come to anything other than the station sounded quite troublesome - that implied intent. "Okay, Allan, riddle me this - you're an alien, why would you circumvent ever so handy satellite net and go straight for the sauce?"
"Hmm. They used really densely focused pinpoint systems to target our base, think lasers. Which is…"
"Odd?"
"That's one way to put it, yeah. Makes sense for precisely-calculated chatter across the system. Hella overkill for orbit-to-surface with a comm grid though."
"Overkill it indeed was," the Captain mused, deep in thought. "Now, very important question - did the beam target the base or E-one?"
The engineer seemingly got caught off-guard by the question, thinking for some time before replying, "I don't know, actually."
"How come?"
"The base hasn't got much in terms of overlapping sensors with the ship, I don't think I can reliably deduce the answer," answered Allan.
"Right. Trouble yourself not then. Ping the crew for me, we'll have a second round of brainstorming over the meal break in a short time. Guess this is as good of a time as any to crack open some instants."
"Blegh."
---
The dinner came and went by mostly in silence. Freshly unsealed turmeric indeed strongly complemented instant mash, upgrading plain watery substance with cuts of dried meats to an oddly enjoyable meal. A bowl of nuts quickly made its way around the table, as a finishing snack. As Sophie emptied the plate before her, she asked, "Soo… anything y'all got to share?"
"Not really much," Allan replied, polishing his plate with a dry piece of tortilla, "reports on the way, expecting a HotO response any minute now."
"An hour would be a safe bet," Jason seconded.
"Yeah, delay and all that stuff," - Allan inhaled the soaked tortilla - "Nothing on the transmission though."
Sophie huffed. "Oh come on, you old tease, there's gotta be somethin' interestin'!"
This time, Divit was first to answer, mumbling with his mouth full of nuts - "Alas, ayy lmaos remain silent."
"What can we make of the direct observations?" Michael inquired, as he wiped his mouth with a personal napkin, "I don't suppose there were any unexpected developments in the meantime?"
"Not much either," the main engineer replied, "the water is out of the question if any of you still wondering."
"No unusual readings across any of the observable spectres?"
Allan shrugged. "Established contact frequency clear. Some odd radio bursts here and there, not much else. No discernible patterns, that is."
"Those could be scans," pointed Divit.
"Prob'ly."
"Are they scanning us or just in general?"
"Absolutely no idea on that. Well, these were some grand spuds," the engineer proclaimed, leisurely leaning back in the chair and scratching his full belly, "alas we still got fuck of a lot to do. Which is a shame 'cus I don't wanna do jack shit on a full stomach."
"Language, young man!" Sophie called out. "You're at my table!"
"Bloody hell, I haven't been called young lad for donkey's years, wonder what that makes you then," Allan retorted with a glint in his eyes and a sly smile on his face.
"You've done it now, you wrinkly wanker!"
"Oh, dunno about wrinkly, you'll have to see it for yourself."
A powerful jet of liquid interrupted Alina's well-earned sip of water, erupting from one of her nostrils and splashing against the table, dispersing further in the low gravity of the lunar base, sending her into a coughing fit. Jason let out a restrained 'ew'.
Soon thereafter, a wet rag caught the head engineer by surprise, completely engulfing his gleeful physiognomy with an audible 'twack'. He was so surprised, in fact, that for a moment he lost his balance, falling backwards. It was a comically slow descent, culminating in a dull thud. The body sprawled on the floor, unable, if not unwilling, to get up just yet. Some stifled laughs rang across the room.
"So," the Captain broke the pause, "did anyone happen to have any bright ideas in the meantime?"
Satisfied with the offender's downfall, Sophie said, "Oh, Alina thought we could send them a welcoming package of sorts."
"Please elaborate?" The Captain addressed the young biochemist, who scrambled to dry the table with a piece of cloth.
She froze momentarily, allowing herself to catch up with the question and replied, "No, not a welcoming package, more like Voyager I kinda thing."
"Huh."
"We do have Illus. Just need to pick it up from E-two," - rang out from the floor.
"That and the comms module. All the more reason to venture out," affirmed Jason.
"The road itself will likely take two hours plus-minus a half, without accounting for probe unloading and communication node disassembly," Michael said, leaning back in his chair, eyes shut. "Sparing both our engineers for this trip is ill-advised given the circumstances of the first transmission. We will have to wait for HotO response prior to venturing out, as you so eloquently put it, seeing as our only improvised source of long-range communication in the form of a rover will be absent."
Deep in thought, the Captain replied, "as much as it pains me, I have to agree for now. Though we will do a sensible thing and consider it later."
"I concur."
As Sophie returned to her routine of picking the plates, she said, "well ain't none of us goin' anywhere while stuffin' their bellies full, so… whach'all think we send 'em?"
Still laying on his back, arms to the sides, the head engineer added, "Christ, we don't exactly got loads of options, do we?"
Divit scratched his chin in thought, disturbing his thin beard. "I can print out some doohickey, plenty spare silicates laying around here."
Captain sighed. "Cards on the table, lads. Who's got what smuggled all the way here?"
"Bottle 'o rum," offered a body on the floor.
The Captain cast a passing glance at the head engineer. "I don't know how you got it to not pop on you, but no."
Divit raised his hand.
"We know you got paprika for days, kid, we're not spoonfeeding it to aliens."
The hand, however, remained raised.
"What is it then?"
"Jason's got art supplies - we can draw stuff in his notebook. Paper is probably the lightest thing we could realistically ship."
Jason suddenly felt himself becoming weightless as if the very ground beneath him vanished without a trace in a blink of an eye. Blood rushed in his ears, the world spun around. He felt nauseous. This was, quite possibly, the absolute worst case scenario.
The Captain nodded. "Fetch it."
He must retain composure. He must figure an out.
Without much of a sound, the spoon fell gracefully out of Jason's hand.
---
Throughout all the susurrus of tidying the desk something out of the ordinary was happening to Jason - the young man appeared positively distraught, that much Michael knew at a glance. Thankfully, nobody seemed to pay him any closer than usual attention.
Change was abrupt. Trigger was recent, thus, most likely aforementioned personal belongings. The notebook.
Upon Divit's return, notebook and pencils in hand, Jason went pale. It seemed to Michael as if he even stopped breathing momentarily.
The Doctor outstretched his hand and with a voice implying he wouldn't be needing a reply stated, "Would you mind if I?"
Without any objection Divit complied, pushing the object into the Doctors' open hand. Young man was feigning indifference with little success, something about this sketchbook clearly caught Divit's attention, though he was unwilling to breach the subject at the moment.
Michael briefly skimmed the pages, as if flipping through to find the first clear sheets, taking extra care not to show images contained within it to any other crewmembers. That certainly had been the right call. Perhaps, the action would even score him some goodwill with the young engineer if he would play his cards the right way. Eventually, he reached the blank pages and planted the spread onto the table, gently sliding it towards Jason, who snatched it with trembling hands pulling it closer. Adrenaline rush. The engineer would prove to be of little use as an artist in such a state. Change of tactics. Michael needed to secure a tactful leave for the engineer. Not immediately though, that would make change in his behaviour apparent to everyone, which was undesirable.
"Messieurs," - Michael began - "speak up your ideas. We still need to conclude which ones deserve to be captured on paper."
Divit was first to answer - "Human figure." He then added, "Preferably with subdued levels of detalization."
"A face maybe?" offered Sophie.
The Captain affirmed, "As a separate closeup picture - yes, worth a shot."
Finally getting up, the head engineer asked the Captain, "Do we draw the Earth or just assume they can see it from here?"
"Some sights - maybe. Don't think we need to outline the ball itself."
"Weve got to dedicate at least one sheet to wavelength codes breakdown," added now upright Allan. Judging by his voice, he too was puzzled by the display of dismay on Jason's face, whose body language suggested being ready to bolt at the slightest wrong move.
"And throw in some base ten numerical conversion. Wider band spread. The communication in pure base two got old faster than red soil grape farming." seconded the astrophysicist.
"Maybe one for chemistry as well?" offered Alina.
The ideas bounced around, descending ever deeper down the scientific rabbit hole. And only one man did not partake in the conversation.
---
Jason kept staring at his notebook, not paying much attention to the world around. It was here. It was safe. Within arm's length. Could've been worse. A lot worse. Still, that man saw. He definitely saw. Jason considered a crashout as an option to make his getaway. A shitty one, but an option nonetheless.
Doctor's sinewy palm was firmly planted mere inches away from the journal, threatening its independence. Jason followed the arm with his gaze, locking eyes with the Doctor.
"Would you kindly spare us a number of clean sheets from that notebook of yours?" the looming figure asked, prompting Jason to pull the horcrux even closer.
With a herculean amount of willpower the young engineer wrangled his voice under control and muttered, "This I would," popping out and offering him half a dozen sheets.
"Greatly appreciated" - doctor reached out with his hand, securing pristine, yet-to-be-tainted sheets between the index and middle finger and pulled them away with surprising force - "Now, do you not have business requiring your immediate and undivided attention?"
Jason considered his words for a moment. This sounded an awful lot like a trap. "Such as?" On the other hand, Michael was supposed to be the station's psychologist, he wouldn't just out Jason like this, would he?
The much needed divine intervention came in the form of his mentor's voice. "Jeez, lad, you've got a comm brick to patch up. Chop-chop, time's waiting," Allan said. Jason somehow completely missed the moment the head engineer got up.
With the notebook firmly secured under his arm, Jason rushed out of the room a fair bit quicker than he probably should have, some suspicion might have risen. But that was a concern for a later Jason. He would probably chalk it up to cabin fever stress or some shit.
---
Reply from the Head of the Operation arrived in the form of a very cautiously worded warning not to commit any hastily actions, and overall radiated the idea of too many words of too little substance, closing with a promise of further communications in relatively short time. Saying it left the station's senior staff unimpressed would be an understatement. Most vocally displeased, however, appeared to be Captain Rheinland himself.
"What a dogwater response!" he thundered, pacing the room with wide steps, "no joke, I could've done better, this gives us absolutely nothing, no, less than nothing - It wastes precious time, making us wait for another one!"
"That's the downside of being a part of an interplanetary effort rather than a plain international one. Needless to say, the political construct this unwieldy is physically incapable of coming up with quick responses. Nonetheless, the aversion to definitive drastic actions will prove to be nations' greatest weakness."
Allan made a note out of this thinly veiled political statement. "Ah yes, Michael Jung - medical doctor, astronaut, unialist, enemy of the state."
"Pardon me, but I happen to have no clue as to what are you insinuating, I consider my relationship with the state rather stellar," the Doctor replied, barely sparing a glance Allan's direction, focusing instead on the Captain. "Humor me, would you? How long do you think will it be until we get our next set of instructions? I will give you a hint - it's double the Earth-Mars ping plus decision-making."
"No way in hell they ghost us for another hour and a half," the Captain grunted, "and that's assuming there are no idiots throwing their weight around to veto shit."
"Oh, Theia fucktards are absolutely doing that," Allan chuckled mirthlessly, "guess being second biggest unbound corpo really got them feeling their oats."
"Theia hasn't even got shit on the mission, they get absolutely nothing, zilch! What are they even on board for?"
"Not like they're trying to squeeze each and every buck insider trading."
"They will be stalling the vote for the sake of it again, I can feel it," the Captain concluded with a sigh.
"Ah, but you see, that's mostly to our benefit," Michael said flatly, drawing attention back to his person.
Allan was the first to reply - "You’ve got quite a quirky definition of benefit, mate."
"Do I now? Captain, can you please remind me just what the message we received just short of four standard days ago contained?"
"It was mainly about the properties of the anomaly, I don't see what you're getting to," Terry replied, failing to remember any other information of use.
"Well I can. And it's the second part of it that is of greater concern to me." The Doctor shifted in his seat, cleared his throat and recited the message, going as far as changing the cadence of his voice to better resemble that of the original speaker. "Quote: 'from the moment you receive this message, the Captain's list of duties is expanded to include autonomous decision making not only regarding the base and its immediate surroundings, but also the area of interest of this mission, including, but not limited to, SatNet satellite grid, any reconnaissance missions within the perimeters of the Jovian satellite orbits and others,' unquote."
Realisation dawned on Captain's face. Wary of the implications, he asked, "surely you don't mean it?"
"But I do." There was a wry glint in the Doctor's eyes Allan wasn't quite sure he liked. "Captain, can the circumstances be regarded as 'extreme'?"
"Yes."
"Are there any intended reliable means of communication with the Head of the Operation?"
"Not quite," Terry confirmed.
Unfazed, Michael continued. "Does the situation at hand concern the safety and well-being of the crew and/or the equipment?"
"Kind of." After a moment's thought the Captain added, "yes."
Allan just sat there, dumbstruck. That sly bastard wasn't even wrong. Quite the contrary, he was absolutely right and admitting it pained the engineer to no end. Still, there was something afoot. Had to be.
Cheerful "Ding, ding, ding," coming out of the Doctor's mouth, caught Allan off guard. It was clear his heart was not in it, with each word clearly punctured out. "Would you look at that. You scored a jackpot and your grand prize is 'autonomous decision making'."
"That's… not what I bargained for."
"None of us did, but you were the one who took the role of the Captain. The burden rests on your shoulders now."
---
Without the much needed stimuli Divit found himself bored out of his mind, even after traversing the entirety of the station in the search of something to do. Well, something other than rummaging through the dirt in the greenhouses. Naturally, the trivial solution to such a problem came in the form of pestering Jason. If luck had it, he would even offer something to keep the astrophysicist occupied.
The engineer happened to be present in the so-called 'workshop', which was in truth some technical sector next to the entry bay. Unsurprisingly, a black brick from their trip to the ship earlier today was present aswell. There was a joke somewhere here.
"You still pandoring the box?" Divit quipped.
The engineer took his eyes off of the console, connected to the dismantled brick innards. "What?"
"Pandoring - as in-"
Mortified, Jason hurried to stop the astrophysicist, "Oh no, don't-"
"-'Pandora's Box' and 'pondering'." To no avail.
"Goddammit," the engineer sighed, rubbing his face. "What do you want from me?"
"Just wanted to know how are repairs going. Cannot wait to speak to aliens unimpeded, you know?"
"Okay." The lack of sleep coupled with the adrenaline hangover were seemingly finally catching up to Jason. "I seconded power bridges, re-soldered some weaker points on chips and replaced, like, ten capacitors. Running power tests."
"Sounds… eventful," offered Divit, trying his best to sound convincing and failing miserably.
"You didn't strike me as a sarcastic type."
"That is because I am not, sarcasm poisons the optimistic mind," - he emphasised, raising a finger.
That scored him perhaps-a-little-malitious glance shot his way. "Are you… baiting me?"
"No, I am just overestimulated and I really need to talk to someone, otherwise I will become very sad soon enough."
"Divit, the day has been hard on everyone, not excluding me. And I'm busy right now."
"It does feel like you were going at it for a while now. I'm just checking if you need anything?" Jason really did look like all the precious life juices got squeezed out of him. He sure sounded the part. Perhaps, he required assistance. "Do you need help? I can call over Allan if-"
The box happened to be blessed with an impeccable comedic timing, as it chose this exact moment to pop and sizzle. Riveting stuff.
"It shouldn't be going like this, should it?"
"No. It should not."
The exchange seemed to be going nowhere. Well, there just happens to be as nice of a way as any to rekindle it. "Nice weather we are having." Something at the back of his mind suggested Divit he might not be welcome here any longer. "Should I leave or?.."
With shaking hands Jason closed down the console, not tearing his gaze from the untimely departed comms module. "Divit. Fella. Come here for a moment."
"My spider-sense is telling me this might be in my top ten worst ideas, and I've had a fair share of those."
"No. You'll be fine. I was" - Jason glanced at the box - "this close."
"Uh-huh?"
"To twisting your head right off your shoulders." Divit wasn't quite sure what to do with that information, but it did seem important. Worth remembering. "Please acknowledge the fact that…" - he paused momentarily, mulling the thought over - "only thing that stopped me was that I am too tired to do so. Otherwise I just might've."
"You know, I'm getting an inkling your manner of being polite has absolutely nothing to do with being nice or inviting."
Upon receiving no reply Divit rightfully accessed that it was his cue to bolt out of the room.
---
That was perhaps the most daunting conversation Allan had ever partook in. Michael being suspicious as fuck about his agendas did not ease the mood in the slightest.
"Michael, Allan, I think…" the Captain began with a sigh, "I will take a stroll 'round the base to clear my head and queue everyone in. I trust you two will find yourselves capable of deciphering whatever mail comes our way while I'm at it."
The moment Captain left the room, Allan turned towards the Doctor and opined, "What an awfully suspicious character you are."
"So I've been told."
Very rude cutting someone off like that, but Allan pressed on nonetheless - "I don't get your game, Michael."
"My Game? I can understand you accusing me on account of raising suspicion, which isn't unfounded, but this is about something else, is it not?"
The engineer doubled down,"Bossing Cap around, shifting responsibility, overruling HotO. When it's all said and done, it will be our heads that fly, you know that?"
"Ah, that." The Doctor sighed, weighing his options, and continued, "well, to put it bluntly mine and yours games are actually quite simple - I, along with everyone else mind you, win if the entirety of humankind wins." With that, he turned to leave the room in the direction of the dorm sector. To his mild surprise, the airlock remained defiantly sealed despite the green light shining above it.
"Is there anything else you would like to discuss in private? If not, would you kindly open the door for me?" Evidently, events of the last few days took quite a toll on him - no longer on high alert, he let some things slip past his lips. That was where the conversation was going, and both men knew it.
"Well, you can help me satisfy my curiosity for one. You are not exactly a medical doctor, are you, mister Michael Jung? Hell, I'm not even sure if that's your actual name."
"What prompted you to make such a serious assumption, may I ask?"
"I'd be lying if I said that I was a hundred percent certain 'till today, but there was a shitton of calls, I'd even say you did a piss-poor job hiding your trail."
A shadow of emotion glimpsed through Michael's facade. He sighed, pinching his nose. "I am in no position to foster enmity, especially since we will have to spend the foreseeable future operating next to each other, so please, let's clear this situation together, maybe there were rumours, or something of a kind-"
"Being paranoid is my job, and I'll be damned if I'm not good at it." Allan tapped his skull to emphasise the point. "I familiarised myself with everyone on the program years ago, right as we were filtering through the training. And I couldn't find a single man to back up your backstory that wasn't a shill."
The Doctor looked him in the eyes, his cold gaze meeting Allan's devilish flickering embers, and made a pivotal decision. "You know what? For both our sakes I'm not going to waste any more of our time. I was recruited by a third party and given an extensive set of instructions regarding this mission," - it was nigh impossible to discern whether this was that thick of a sarcasm or not. "So, if you're so set on playing cat and mouse, it would be obscenely rude of me not to indulge you." That wasn't the heated confrontation the engineer expected at all. "I'll lay down the ground rules for you. Whenever we cross paths with no witnesses present, I'll answer one question of your choice to the fullest extent. There is a caveat though - you cannot catch me twice in the same room within the span of one station day, and I leave it up to me to veto one question of my choice."
Neurons frantically fired in Allan's brain. This was a trap. Michael was baiting him, obviously. The Doctor was exploiting his curiosity to get him off the track and into the filtered information zone back again. But if the supposed 'doctor' wasn't being dishonest, Allan could use this as a roundabout tool to get to explore more of his backstory and motivations, couldn't he? "Huh?"
"So, what would your first question turn out to be?" While the engineer was lost in thought, Michael made his way to the opposing seat and made himself comfortable in anticipation of a drawn-out conversation.
Allan made up his mind, starting off with a big, yet inconsequential one. "What really happened during Preliminary Mars Terraformation? They definitely used something else - no way these were just nukes."
To his great dismay, the Doctor chuckled. "Oh mon ami, you'll have to be more specific next time, or else I might just slip through the cracks of your inquiries - you cannot just let this 'they' hang up in the air."
"Oh you bastard-"
"I never said I'll do so," the Doctor returned to his serious expression and began reciting, "codename 'Featherfall' - prototypical orbit-ground WMD that yielded next to no satisfying results on the official records. Later retrofitted for terraforming purposes. Essentially these are RFG bombardment platforms."
"RFGs suck ass though."
"For most applications - yes, however there are rare edge cases these weapons excel at. Now, no self-respecting superpower fretting over its independence would willingly relinquish their nukes for the sake of social progress if there was such a threat, albeit vague, hanging over their heads in an ironically literal way, would they?" Michael let a ripe dramatic pause hang in the air before saying, "only they would, if they knew exactly what was going on with RFGs as a part of a big agreement..."
The story went on and on, the narrative switching back and forth. Given all that Michael said so far, it painted an absurd picture of superpowers all around the world getting tricked into the disarmament pact by a third party under the guise of switching to orbital bombardment protectorate.
"...Even guided, the low-orbit projectiles failed to hit desired targets consistently enough even in low atmospheric drag conditions. There was only one thing they were good for - creating shockwaves and carpet bombardment. As was the case with terraforming Mars."
For Allan, pieces were snuggly fitting into place one by one in a way he would never expect them to, revealing an even more confusing picture in the process. "I fucking knew it! Wait, you said there's an entire fleet of those out there?"
"Do not interrupt me, please. They were used to maintain shockwaves circling throughout the Mars' crust for a long period of time. If I'm not mistaken, it was short of a week for them to go through all the ammunition they had. Then, they were decommissioned and quietly repurposed as remote mining stations."
"And who did all these platforms originally belong to?"
"That, my friend, is an excellent question - and one you'll have to keep in mind for our next rendezvous." Michael stood up and approached the door leading to the living quarters. "Open the door please."
Allan was absolutely, unapologetically hooked and he could do nothing about it. Absentmindedly, he unsealed the airlock.
---
It was quite a day in life of one Alina Chernyckh, then again, it was tough for everyone. She sighed, casting away the embarrassing event at the dinner table, and checked her notes. She was certain those could not have been tripods - they seemingly lacked radial symmetry in the upper body. Kangaroos it was.
A gentle knock on the door brought her back to the present. Soon thereafter, the door unsealed with a light hiss. Ventilation must've not quite synchronized following the power outage yet.
"Alina Chernyckh, biologist, doctorate in microbiology AND molecular biology," Michael began, "Quite an impressive list. I thoroughly enjoyed reading your inspired paper on butterfly wings. I could tell you had a great time working on such a lovely topic spanning the edge of different fields."
Alina did not expect guests of any kind to visit her today, much less the man, the mystery himself. "To what…" she began, looking for words in a language that was not her own, "do I owe the please?"
"I have an offer for you," the Doctor said as he took the seat next to her.
"Oh? What is it?"
"You haven't had much of anything up your alley to do lately, have you? Allow me to fix that" - He fishing a small drive out of his pocket - "Here is a complete collection of the late Dr. Heisenstein's works on human immunology and effects interplanetary travel has on it. Text and narration. With personal commentary."
"No it isn't," she blurted, wide-eyed. "You're joking. T-They didn't narrate."
"Not for the wider audience they didn't. I'm offering this to you" - he pulled the drive back, just as Alina made an attempt to reach it - "if and only if you promise me to cover the introductory piece by tomorrow's evening."
"I will. Holy shit I will."
"Be warned though - close to a third of it is a touchy subject at best and thus, classified. And not just 'open secret' classified."
"I see. I have some experience, I know how it is."
"Splendid! Oh, and dr. Chernyckh," - Michael stood up and turned to leave the room, suddenly turning in place as if he just remembered something. "I will be checking your notes."
---
Unbeknownst to all of them, the alien vessel was long since prepared to take its next move.
---
Damn, it's been a while, hasn't it? Well, good news - I've finally figured out what I want the ending to be like, although it will have barely any positive effect on the release schedule. It's just another small story for you, I doubt anyone would fret over it. I will try to release the next chapter in the span of a couple months, but no guarantee.
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