Present day, present time...

It is evening; there is a knock at the door. Rye calmly pulls himself up from his chair and turns off the television with a remote. He gives a sharp look to his holographic assistant and the hologram turns itself off. Rye has been waiting the better for of the date for this 'fateful' meeting that is supposedly urgent. When he opens the door, the same woman from the hospital is there. Rye's eyes dart up and then down eyeing her over once. She looks worse for wear and lookes dirty; probably from the ordeal she has been through the last week. Her head sinks as she shrugs her shoulders slightly and gives gives a wry smile. Rye's hand shoots to the door frame when she attempts to come in; his eyes dart to her and his head moves to her direction. "I can come in right?" She was trembling now. "You will let me in right?" He could see it, her eyes were getting watery. His head shifts to towards the direction of voices approaching at the end of the hall. He looks down again at her. He was weighing the decision; she was rapidly shaking her head not to do it. His hand finally breaks free from the doorframe, "In now." She lets a sigh of relief from her chest as the tension breaks and she pushes herself in. Rye resists the urge to slam the door as he closes it behind him; he turns around and she is facing him from six feet away.

"May I..."

"No, you may not. I've lost three days of plans waiting around for you."

"Well, I mean..."

"I don't want to hear it. I am 'not' happy right now, so I will be direct and to the point. This had better be good, and I mean it; no games, no bullshit. You had better have a good reason for being here, or you are out. Now sit." Rye points to one of the two couches. She walks over slowly, her back to him; then sits with her arms in her lap. She doesn't seem phased by his display of temper; Rye was having trouble discerning if she wastelling if she was faking the mood or not. Not like it matters, he was contemplating turning her over to the police. Rye was on the other couch adjucent from her. His posture didn't tell anything about his mood; he seems otherwise relaxed.

"Now, I'm current as far as the hospital," his mood was less angry, more serious, but definitely relaxed, "What happened after I left and why did you run?"

"The doctor's wanted to x-ray my body after they saw me walking around the hospital."

One of Rye's eyes squint. "I don't understand."

"I had a cast on my left leg and right arm if you remember." She raises her right arm as if to prove a point, but there was nothing on it. "Ah. That's right. However..." his mood finally relaxes and his right leg crosses over his left and his right arm rests on the back of the couch, his left hand motions to with his index finger and palm up, "...that doesn't explain why you would would try to 'escape'."

"When I tried to resist, they had bodyguards, security or whatever, hold and sedate me. I just remember getting really tired and passing out."

"...and then?" He was waiting, her head turns away. His ears shoot back and his eyes narrow. "I humored you on the phone because it might actually be important. I'm not going to put up with your games. The door is over there..." he motions his head towards the door behind him. "I suggest you leave before I call the cops." He was getting ready to stand when she interrupts him, "Wait! I'm sorry! They found out I was a cryborg!"

Rye sinks into the couch, his left elbow goes to the armrest and his head collapses into his hand. He mouths a curse under his breath without actually saying it. She sees him wince and then let out a sigh. "Alright!" his hands go up in frustration, "Alright! You can stay." Her head looks up and her eyes closes as she lets out a sigh of relief.

"However, any games on your part and you'll be out on the curb; do I make myself clear?!"

She nods, quickly, several times.

His head was resting on his right hand, "I assume they x-rayed you and saw that you weren't human?"

"Right."

"And then what happened...?"

"When I finally came to, they had me in a bed and restrained. There were several bodyguards and a doctor waiting for me. The doctor asked me some questions. He told me as a cryborg I have no autonomy, they have been outlawed for centuries."

"Are they legal on Hayduria?"

"Yes."

"I see. How did you escape?" He was puzzled, and his curiosity was starting to get the better of him.

"I triggered my body's danger reflexes and broke the restraints. When they turned around to see what happened, I lunged at one of the bodyguards. The other tried to restrain me so I headbutted him."

"You're so violent." He said it as if it was a good thing; one of her eyes closes halfway and she gives a sneer in disbelief. "What did you do about the doctor?"

"He was blocking the door, so I told him to move. He moved. He was weak." She gives herself a self respecting smile as if it was the first good thing she'd seen in awhile. "When I was trying to find the exit, I heard an alarm go off. I had bodyguards following me or trying to block off my route, so I started throwing things at them or would knock them out if they blocked the way. I did find the exit."

"And that's when you ran."

"Like I've never run before. You already know the rest."

"Wait, back up a second. You were in a cast before. If you are a machine, why did you need one?", Rye is getting curious now. If she had a injury after the accident, it would have made sense to x-ray her -before- getting any medical work.

"Well, I lied in the report and told them I had a fractured left arm. I was limping after the accident, so it only made sense."

"I don't recall you limping." Rye is skeptical at this point, not sure if he believes this woman, robot or whatever she was. If she can lie to others, it also means she can lie to him.

"Nevermind that. We were too busy trying to get out of the ship if you recall."

"I do actually. Go on."

"They bandaged me up and threw my limbs into a cast."

"Were you actually injured?"

"Yes, I was. My left arm did have a fracture and my left knee and foot had been damaged."

Rye rubs the left side of his head with his left hand. This makes sense to him, but it was also still a stretch. He had never seen a Cryborg, only heard about them. "You're body should still have those injuries?"

"It does. It'll be another week or two before it fully heals."

"Heals? You mean repairs right?"

"Both. I'm not just synthetic. I'm also biological."

Rye winces.

"Sitting in that room being immobile wasn't fun."

"How did they sedate you? If you are a machine that shouldn't be an issue."

She flicks her hand through her hair and shakes her head, "As I said. My body is also biological." She smiles with enjoyment as Rye's face winces again and expresses a non-verbal groan. She was enjoying this too much, Rye couldn't decide if it was her ego or if she just likes attention.

"Assuming you are telling the truth, what happens after the hospital?"

"I figured they'd be looking for me or they would have given my description to the police and -they- would be looking for me. I decided to make a hasty retreat and then lay low."

"Were you running all over the island avoiding authorities?"

"No, I spent the entirety of it at a shelter for the homeless and abused. When they asked about my hospital clothing I told them I had an abusive husband and his last temper sent me to the hospital. They didn't ask any questions after that. They gave me some donated clothing and let me stay in a small room in the basement. My roomate was this very nice older woman; she was very friendly." The woman's eyes shift up in thought as if remembering a pleasant memory, "They also had this really nice soup kitchen."

Rye's face changes to disbelief, "You didn't actually eat in the soup kitchen or serve on the line did you?"

"No, they wouldn't let me. They said it was in my better interest not to be seen at the shelter if my husband was abusive."

"Liar and a scoundrel."

"I placed a few calls to you from the shelter."

"How did you get them to be off island?"

"You can call the operator and get a forwarding service from an off-island account. It's harder to track."

"Ah. Clever girl." Rye gets a weak smile from the woman, but one that signifies her pride.

"I left towards the weekend. I chose to spend it in the park. However, the police stopped by and told me I couldn't loiter after hours. when they turned me away, I came back after about three hours. They caught me sleeping on a bench and woke me up and wanted my ID. Obviously I don't have one, and when I wouldn't give them one, they tried to detain me. That's when I ran. I went back to the shelter a few hours later and got a haircut and new change of clothing. I was hoping if the police were looking for me, they wouldn't notice my appearance had changed."

Rye noted her hair was shorter.

"I tried calling again and had a brief conversation with your assistant; he told me where you lived. He said you weren't available and would be available three days after the fact. I waited at the shelter over the weekend before leaving for the final time and coming over here. The rest you know."

"Right. You can stay."

Her mood perks up. Rye stands, "I don't know if I believe your whole story, but you can stay. Do you have a name?"

"GMA-02-Gamma-2065."

"What?

"General Manufactured Android Zero Two Gamma Unit Two Thousand Sixt-Five."

Rye lets out a sigh as he winces again.

"I am a mass produced android for general labor. Zero one indicates male, zero two indicates female. Gamma indicates I am the third update to the product line. My unit number is two thousand sixty-five."

Rye gives a fake, albeit weak smile in disbelief. He couldn't believe what is happening before him, let alone what he is listening to. "Do you have an actual name?"

"I have a personal name if that is what you mean. I'd rather not give it out at this time. Just call me Gamma. That is what everyone else called me on the ship."

"Speaking of which, 'Gamma', can you tell me what you were doing on that ship?"

"I was originally signed on as a secretary. I was to be transferred to a military base and serve as a secretary and data analyst. Completing five years would grand me citizen status. After I wanted to be a diplomat to Eva."

"I see. Well then, now that you have my trust...", Rye starts walking away, "...make sure you don't lose it."

"Wait, where are you going?!" She is standing now.

"I need to switch to a day schedule. I'm going to bed."

"Ah."

"If you need to sleep feel free to use the couch. If you need assistance, just call out for James; he'll appear when you need him."

"Alright then. Thank you. Actually, what was your name? You never mentioned your name" Her head is ever so slightly cocked to the side.

"Ryanov Gristoz."

"Okay, thank you Ryanov for your assistance and hopsitality through this difficult time."

"Rye."

"What?"

"Just call me Rye."

"Okay. Thanks again Rye."

"You are welcome... I think. We can talk more in the morning."

She nods as he turns around and heads once again towards the bedroom. Once inside, Rye shuts the door behind him and winces one last time. He turns around in front of the bed with his back facing it. He let's himself crash backwards onto the mattress. He lets out one last sigh as he recounts events leading up to this point. The situation gave him a headache and it was only getting worse. What he hadn't told her was that he was switching to a day schedule to help with his studies. In the near future, once his studies are complete, he is going to chase his dream job of being a cop. This complicates matters as he is now providing room and board for an outlaw. Indeed, things will get much more interesting in the near future for Ryanov Gristoz.

---

Three days earlier...

Rye had just gotten back from shopping. His holographic assistant, 'James' (black hair, short, asian, roughly seventeen) was there to greet him. "Master, welcome home." The hologram greeted him. It had been roughly six months since Rye had left for the rig. James would have been there at his side, but there was a strict 'no outside storage mediums' policy enforced on the rig. Rye threw his jacket and shoes to the floor next to the door. "James, any mail or calls while I was away?" Rye faced the hologram in curiosity as he kicked the door behind him closed with his foot. The hologram turned his head slightly, "One moment..."; his form dulled and small random numbers and letters whizzed throughout his form. "113 telemarketer calls...", The hologram paused when he heard a distinct, "Block that shit." from his master. He nodded and continued, "23 items of junk mail...". Rye gave him a sharp look, the hologram jolted to attention, "314 items of junk mail, telemarketer calls and non-essentials have been deleted. Rye let out a sigh of happiness. "What about the rest?" The hologram's form faded again. "There has been 27 items in regards to bills - none late. I'll archive them for you if you..." The hologram was interrupted again by Rye, "Go ahead." "Yes, the items have been archived. You are still at 7% capacity for storage. You have one message from your mother and five messages from an unknown number. Would you like to hear them?" The hologram was awaiting his orders. Rye gave the go ahead.

"Rye, it's your mother. You missed the reunion again. But work first right? There was a turnout of ten families this year. Your father made a fool of himself again. Your sisters give their regards. I wish you well." The message was brief and to the point. These exchanges had been going on for several years due to Rye's job at the Milford Bio Oil Rig.

Rye was in the living room section of his apartment to grab the television remote. He shook his head at the message from his mother as he walked back to the kitchen. His father did it -again-. Rye flicked the television on before he went to put the groceries away into the cupboards and the refridgerator. Rye hadn't been paying attention to James at that point, but the hologram continued with his message deliveries.

"Rye, it's Mark. The head honchoes at Milford want rescuers involved with the Haydurian incident to..."

"James, delete that one."

"Got it."

Rye was grabbing milk from his back. He hadn't had real milk for almost six months; it had to be processed or powdered due to 'Milford Bio Policy'. Rye winced at the thought. He didn't have to deal with the Milford Bio company until his next rotation six months ahead and didn't want to think about it.

"Hello, to whom it concerns. I need your help. We..."

Rye's head pops up above the fridge door, "James, has your database been updated?" James gave a nod, "No junk filters picked up on it." "Odd. Sounds like junk. Go ahead and continue." James's hologram froze and faded as the message continued, "We met aboard the ship..." Rye's head smashes the top of the fridge and he gives out a distinct, 'ow'. The message continued. "I have something I need to discuss with you. I will call you again. Please be ready for it." Rye was wide eyed at the message. He heard the hum of the fridge behind him. "James, how long ago was that first message?" James looked up as if in though, "Four days ago." Rye shut the door behind him. His thoughts started to race. That voice sounded distinctly like the woman from the ship and later the hospital. He tried to gather his thoughts on how she could have found his number. He had no idea. "James, are the next messages from the same woman and number?" The hologram looked at him and shook his head, "Negatory. The numbers do not match and are all random and off island." Rye was standing next to the hologram now, "That can't be right." The hologram continues, "The voice pitch and frequency matches the same person in the remaining messages." Rye's mouth was pursed, "Go ahead and continue the messages."

"Hello again. I see you are not home. I will try later in the day."

"James, how long ago was the message?" Rye's arms were crossed and he was slowly tapping his foot. Again the hologram's form faded, "Four days ago." "This is starting to sound like a mystery novel." "If you would like sir, I can begin transcribing a novel." James was at the ready. "That's not what I meant. Continue the messages, I want to know how this ends." Rye was leaning against the kitchen counter now. "Right." answered the hologram, "Continuing messages."

"Hello, I contacted you several days ago; we met on the ship. I've escaped from the hospital..."

"Escaped?! Why would you...?" Rye's hands were half up in the air, half shrugging; his eyes were winced and his head was shaking as he was mouthing several things to himself, "...doesn't she know if she isn't discharged they'll forward it to the police?" The hologram didn't know if Rye was talking to himself or not, but he answered with, "I don't know." Rye realized that his groceries were still sitting out and he hurries back behind the counter to put them away, "James, continue the message."

"...I really need to speak with you. Please be ready next time."

James already knew what his master was going to ask, "Date was mid-afternoon two days ago." There was no answer from Rye. He just gave a look and was hurrying with putting canned goods away.

"Hello. Your voice mail picked up again. I wanted to speak with you. We met on the ship if you remember. The police told me I couldn't loiter in the park after hours and had to go home. They came back a second time; I wouldn't give them an ID and they tried to detain me. I'm possession of some new clothing and a haircut; I won't look the same when we meet."

Rye's thoughts were racing again. Did she imply she was now eluding authorities? James shook him back to reality, "Next message."

"Hello." The woman's voice played again. "Hello." James's voice answered. Rye's eyebrow cocked up at James. "We met on the ship. You gave me your number to contact you if I needed help." It was the woman again. "I am the master's assistant hologram. He will be back in three days towards evening. If you would like to..." "JAMES!" Rye's interruption jolted the hologram back to his full color. "Yes, sir!" "How many times have I told you not to answer the phone!" "Since activation three years ago you have told me at least 17 times. What... stop looking at me like that." Rye was walking over to the door. "Sir, I didn't buy anything!" The hologram ducked as Rye's boot flew over his head. "And what was your excuse this time?" Rye was not impressed, nor amused. "I was active as per instructions from my master to begin house keeping." "And you answered my phone?" "Yes sir." "Are you defective?" "Yes sir." Rye gave James the eye. "I mean no sir." "I should have never given you that personality update." "Yes sir. Permission to continue the message. It is important." Rye crosses his arms as he leans against the counter again, "Continue the message."

"...towards evening. If you would like to leave a message, I can..." "No, I need to speak with him. It's urgent." "He will not be back for three days. You will need to leave a message." "I can't say it over the phone. Can you tell me where he lives?" "I can't give out that information." "Are you sentient?" "Yes I am." "I need your help." "How may I be of help?" "I need to speak with your master, it is an emergency and I'm in danger." "He will not be back for three days." "If you tell me where he lives I can swing by then." "He lives at Malteza Apartments, building four, first floor, east wing, 406." "Can you give the street location?" "47325 Parkers Plaza." "Thanks." The end message tone played and the call was over. Rye's arms were crossed and his eyes were narrowed at James. "You had better hope it is an emergency." James knew he had messed up. "Hey James." "Yes sir?" "Before you deactive yourself, I want you to know I am very disappointed with you." "Yessir! I am very disappointing." The hologram fizzled out. Rye shook his head and rushed back to the kitchen. His yogurt was the last thing sitting out and he had forgotten about it. He cracked it open and took a spoonful. He then chucked it into the garbage and went towards the bedroom. The last few days had been exhausting and he came home sooner than the original intended date for one very important thing - sleep and lots of it.

---

One week earlier...

It began in a hospital room; specifically the ICU (intensive care unit). This style of ICU is what you would expect if you have ever been in one - white walls, equipment, and one of 'those' types of beds. Waiting patiently was a man, late twenties in a security uniform. Short black hair pulled back and aviator sunglasses were the only distinguishing features; he is sitting in a chair reading a book ("the antihacker") with his back to the sunlight and drawn curtain. His charge and vigilant bedside manner was directed towards the woman in the ICU bed. Long red hair is her distinguishing feature, the rest of her either covered or unremarkable. By 'covered', I mean her left arm and leg are in a cast and her left leg is suspended in the air with cable; her arm is more free, but it is slightly bound by another restraint. Her head is shifted to her right side and her eyes are closed, sleeping. There is a slight raspy breath escaping her vicinity. This woman has been in an accident, and the security guard is waiting, patiently. Unusual to this medical recovery is the fact she has been out for nearly two weeks.

He looks up as he has many times up until now and sees the foot wiggle, if ever so slightly. His book closes and his aviators come off as movement in the bed starts with a rustle and then the restraints in the bed pull tight as the occupant resists them in some invisible fight. They slack again and there is a deep breath and exhale as the woman's eyes open, first the left and then the right. There is a silence in the room as her head shifts around to survey her surroundings. Her eyes were on the foot cast and then her left arm resists the arm cast, the first time unexpected and then the second time to test it. Her mouth drops when she sees the security guard sitting in a chair.

"You've been out for two weeks." He tries to be friendly, but the lack of response from her made his warm disposition that much harder to put on. He tries switching to serious, "Are you alright ma'am?" Again no response. He is up from the chair and sets his book down, more urgently now "I'll go get a nurse." Her head follows him as he walks past the bed and towards the door. The woman stops to consider it and as he opens the door he hears her voice, "Wait...! That won't be necessary!" The door clicks closed as he joins her by her bedside.

"I don't know if you remember me." He tries to be friendly again, but there was just a stare back as he continued, "I was the person that helped you away from the explosion." Still no response. "If it makes you feel better I can get a nurse for you." Her face tightens and she gives him a sharp "NO!" The door to the ICU opens and a nurse's head peaks in, "Is everything alright in here?" The man's head looks up at the nurse and then the girl in the bed, whom says, "Fine, everything is fine. Please leave us." The nurse gives a cheerful smile, "Okay!" and closes the door. When the door closes, the woman's head shifts back to the security guard. "Please leave." His hands were on the right bed rail and he tries to make light of the situation, "You don't like nurses, do you?" His humor was lost on her and her only response was "Leave."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

He walks over his chair near the window and pulls it along side her cast-stricken arm and leg; he sits down and begins. "You're not going to like this then." Her eyes widen, before she can open her mouth he continues. "I can't leave just yet. I'm currently on the clock; my company wanted me to watch over you as an act of good faith. They asked me to step in instead of the doctors due to your relationship with them." He hears a breath come out of her (not a happy one), he continues his spiel, "They wanted me to ask you some questions. The reasoning was that since I was the one that helped you, then you would be more cooperative." Her eyes narrow, "I'm not answering any questions." He lets out a sigh, in the back of his mind he knew this was going to happen. "Look, I'm really trying here. I want to help you, but your not making this easy for me." Her mouth opens and she pleads with him one last time, "Just leave, please!" There was an emphasis on on the 'please!'.

"Alright then." He stands up and picks up his book and aviators up. He walks over to the desk and picks up a pen and starts scribbling on a notepad, "If you should change your mind or something happens and you want someone that isn't a doctor or a nurse, here's my number." Near the door he turns around at her, her head now facing away from him and looking out the window, "Goodbye." He closes the door behind him, harder than he would have normally.

"Oh god." He looks up at the hallway. "Not this shit again..." He sees the sign "E1-L4" as the location that he was in. "I hate hospitals." He had to find his way back to the front desk. Being one of the larger hospitals, this was no easy feat. He had gotten lost each time he had visited the mysterious "Jane Doe". After about fifteen minutes he makes it to the front desk. "No luck with Jane Doe in the eastwing L4 block. She doesn't seem to want to cooperate with me and was quite adamant about any nurses, I'm assuming the same with doctors." The receptionist starts typing away at her computer, "We'll let the doctor's know. She's probably still in shock." He nods, "Right then. If that will be everything, I'll be going." The nurse smiles, "Have a nice day." The security guard curses under his breath as he approaches the desk. "I hate hospitals."

Once he gets home and after he opens the door, his holographic assistant was waiting for him, "Boss, you're home." He takes one look at it and says, "Not now." The hologram shuts itself off. The security guard puts his keys on the key holder and throws his coat on the floor and kicks his shoes off. He drags himself to the couch and crashes hard. This had been a long two weeks - simply going to the hospital, and intensively reading and alleviating boredom, waiting for any sign of the woman's recovery, eight hours had already gotten to him; her responses weren't much better.

A few hours later he jolts up to the sound of his apartment's phone ringing and the sound of a hauler driving outside. He was hoping it was the hospital, it wasn't. It was his company, Milford Bio. He knew this was going to turn into an even longer day. Several phone calls about the patient, mostly with the same responses, 'he didn't know', 'she wouldn't answer', 'she's stable'. This of course was no ordinary circumstance, so the company was very interested for insurance and liability reasons. The woman in question wasn't from this planet, she was from one of the orbiting moons.

---

Three weeks earlier...

It was sometime near high noon. The security guard in question was out on recon performing his duties. He had found his normal lineup of suspects. The sun beat down on him and the waves of the ocean could be heard all around. He was to make the exchange easily enough, he had the money they wanted and they had what he needed. Except something was wrong.

"God damn it! Not again!"

He pulls his hand from his coat and points it at the vending machines and cocks back his thumb. He fires and nothing happens. The vending machines won this day, as they did anytime they at his change. He makes a face at the machines and walks off muttering to himself.

His name was Rye Gristoz. He was the security guard for this particular oil rig. His duties were to patrol the rig looking for any suspicious activity. This normally involved noting how understaffed the place was and how much Milford Bio (the company in question) underpaid him for six months of otherwise acting as an observer. As with all major corporations, if it wasn't by lawful mandate, it wasn't observed and corners were cut. This rig was old, underpowered and undermaintained. It's sole purpose was to pump crude oil from the ocean floor and hold it in massive tanks awaiting next transport. His real job as he'd come to understand it was to note any discrepencies and safety issues with anything along his normal jaunt. This was frequent due to the condition of the rig; he would normally have to radio in anything immediate and anything not pressing would be filled out as occasional paperwork from his own office. He did get his own small office - closet as he liked to call it - on one of the higher levels of the platform. There was nothing to be seen from the two lone windows however, only sea for miles around.

As he made his way past rusty walkways and metal walls, Rye remained focused on the task at hand. He had to get to his office for something very pressing. When he got to it, he crossed his arms as he looked at several computer monitors on his desk. They would flip through cameras every ten seconds. Nothing of import from the last time he had looked at it. He looked over towards the windows, then to the desk, pulled open a drawer, pushed it shut, and continued to rummage through different areas of the office while he repeatedly looked around. He was looking for something specific, but couldn't find it. He took one last look up at the monitors and then left the office.

Outside of his office, he crossed more rusty walkways and at one point stopping to rest his hand on a metal railing, the railing broke free of its mount. Rye shook his head and hurried on his way, it was the end of the week and he had enough paperwork. After crossing half of the oil platform, he finally found one of the workers. The conversation was brief, general small talk and then a wrench was procurred. This was a big wrench, the kind that were found in heavy industrial application. It was so big in fact, Rye had to hold it with both hands and lug it around his shoulder. He backtracked to his original location with the vending machines. He lowered the wrench with both hands from his shoulder to the ground, "Showtime." was all he said as he winds it back and smacks the metal side of the vending machine to his right. The mechanism kicked in and a sandwhich dropped down. Delighted at it and the dent left in the machine, he looked over at the machine immediatly to his left. It had the coffee he needed. He gave it a stearn look, but nothing happened. "Suite yourself." he said and he picks up the wrench again and smacked the side of the machine. Nothing happened. He took a few more swings with the wrench, but nothing. His eyes narrow and after refraining from kicking the machine, he looked behind it and noticed the cord was under one of the machine's legs and was frayed. "Of course." He muttered to himself. Other people had been having the same issue. Rather than break the glass and suffer the wrath of management, he opted to take some loose change into a vending machine opposite of the wall and grabbed a soda.

Although Rye didn't care much for soda, lunch was finally ready. He returned the wrench and went back to his office. His legs were crossed up on the desk and a movie was going. Mystery, Rye liked mystery. He didn't like the lemon-lime soda; egg salad sandwiches were okay. One of the perks of having his own office was the fact boring and monotanous office hours could be crossed off by filling his time with movies, books, or watching the Internet. Due to the fact the oil platform was several hundred miles from the coast, it also meant Internet and radio communications were received by satellite. About thirty minutes into his movie, and it was interrupted by the intercom overhead cackled to life.

"All hands, the N.W.S. (Naval Weather Service) has issued a weather warning for this evening. Be advised, there will be an electrical storm with heavy winds. Shift rotation will end three hours early and the main pumps will be shutdown. In addition..."

Rye hit a switch behind him and the intercom turned itself off dead. Rye did not want to hear more bad news, he had been waiting for an annual meteor shower that would be starting that night of that week. The storm meant he might miss it. He looked out a window and noted there were dark clouds off in the distance. He went back to his movie.

Two movies later and the shift bell could be heard from below. Rye jumped up from his chair and walked out the door. He hurried back in to grab his soda can and sandwich wrapper and drop them in the garbage - heaven help him if his boss performed an audit and something was out of place. As he made his way through the corridors of steel, he noted there were more dark clouds overhead. He'd have to cancel the meteor shower most likely. He cursed his luck and made his way to his quarters.

He hung up his uniform - a hat and padded jacket that said 'Milford Bio' with the company's logo on both. After a shower and change of cloths he dropped into his bed. He had to work long twelve hour shifts and while they weren't as strenuous as some of the other 'roughneck' positions on the platform, the days did drag on and they took their toll mentally. He had considered the three hours reprieve from his shift and opted to use that time to sleep in. The meteor shower was supposed to continue all week, and he wanted to be rested for the earliest convenience of watching it.

A few hours later...

Rye was jolted awake by the door to his room. One of the other security guards he knew as Mark, was standing there and seemed quit panicked. "Wha..." half groggy, Rye was interrupted before he could finish, "Rye, get into uniform, we need you down by the docks." Mark sounded half urgent as he waited for Rye, "Rye, this is serious." Rye was sitting up in bed now, "Why, what hap..." Rye was interrupted again while Mark grabbed Rye's hat and jacket and threw it at him. "It's urgent. There is a Haydurian ship that crashed oceanside about twenty miles from the platform." The two were staring at each other dead serious now. "We had to use a tug to pull it in." Rye was on his feet and had already forced one arm through his jacket. "How long ago..." Mark interrupted him again, "We'll walk and talk." Rye nodded and was in his uniform within one minute. After he forced his feet into his shoes he was out the door at a brisk pace with Mark. "How long?" "The tug pulled it in about ten minutes ago." "No, I mean, how long ago did the ship crash?" "I think forty-five minutes." "Shit. Let's go." "Rye, don't get your hopes up." "What?" "It's been damaged and there are signs of an explosion. They think it hit a large meteor." "Shit!"

They were speechless as they hurried to the docks. Rye hadn't bothered to notice it was windy out until he heard thunder in the distance. As he looked over he saw the telltale signs of a thunderstorm that was being pushed in their direction. "Come on." was all Mark said to him

At the docks Rye got a good look at it. Roughly a mile in length, tappered at the front, square at the rear with large thrusters. It had forward swept wings, but the one on the left (facing the platform) had also been torn off by some force. It looked like it had been painted dark blue, but there were patches of black all over. It had been pitted by meteors. Having looked at the back of it, Rye had noted the two large dorsal fins had also been damaged. He looked down at the base of the ship, it was half lopsided and submerged under water. To the rear of the ship were tow lines attached to the platform's tug. The ship had been secured with chains via cranes to the port. Rye stopped to think about it for a minute. "Is that thing taking on water?" Mark looked from the ship to him, "Yes. It's sinking. We don't know how long it will stay above water and the chains aren't looking that sturdy against that thing."

There was a gathering of all available personel at the main dock. The main supervisor was there to explain the situation. "If you haven't been filled in, the ship has taken heavy damage from the Midian Meteor Shower. It is taking on water and sinking. Rough estimates are that it will be stay afloat for about five hours. You are all to pair off into teams of two and search for any survivors. The situation is critical; maintain radio contact at all times. Most importantly, pay attention to your surroundings. We have no idea what is in that ship." He looked around at all of them. "Dismissed."

They divided ito teams of two with radios and flashlight handed among them accordingly; Mark and Rye paired up due to the familiarity between them. The sight before Mark and Rye was a weird one. A torch cutter had been used to cut through the hull of the ship. Hooked onto it was the same ramp assembly they used to dock with larger ships. However, there were several chain lines suspended from it and overhead cranes. "That doesn't look stable.", Rye commented to Mark. Mark looks him dead in the eye, "It's going to get a whole lot worse once we get in that ship." "Right.", was all Rye said.

On the ramp as they approached the ship, it began to look more and more alien compared to what Rye was used to. It was a ship, definitely a ship, but it didn't look right. "Having last minute thoughts?" Rye looked around and realized he had stopped. Mark shooed him forwared and they continued on their way.

Once inside they found themselves inside a large dark room. There were murmurs amongst the rig workers; Rye could hear the distinct sound of thunder in the distance. The many of them were gathered in this larg dark room with their flashlights darting all over to make sense of things. From what Rye could see, it was some kind of hold easily three hundred by seventy feet wide; despite the white hue from their flashlights, the walls were easily seen as a grey-blue. Barrels, crates, tools, cannisters and shelves were all over, none of it was in the way to a large door that was on the other side of the hold. The door was wide open. "Mark, that door on the far end.." Rye's comment went unnoticed as a flashlight was shown on the whole group and they heard a megaphone. It was the main supervisor. "As mentioned we will split off into teams of two. We don't know what we're dealing with and we don't know the layout of this ship, so each group of two is going to pick a direction different from the previous team. That is all, dismissed." There was a huge line as they walked through the door. It was a corridor and only went in two directions. Every other group of two went right, the other left. Rye and Mark went left. "These corridors are a bit wide for a ship." was the comment that Mark made to Rye. "I wonder why?" Rye had no comment to make, he only noted that they were roughly twenty feet by twenty feet wide. As they made their way down the ship, a new direction would open on occasion and they would be one group less. Metal ladder rungs finally appeared. Rye's radio cracked with static and the voice of one of the workers filled with static filled the air. "We have ladders leading to the upper decks." The whole group of workers stopped waiting for a response. "Split off in groups as before. Radio if their is any trouble." The main supervisor's voice died out again. "We'll go to the upper levels." Mark had already volunteered them. Rye shook his head.

The ladders were many rungs close together, making for an easy climb. Mark's boots also send dirt down to Rye's face as they clattered to each rung. Rye coughed and spit. "Mark, you're out of uniform." "Shut it Gristoz." Rye said nothing the rest of the way up. It wasn't a long climb, roughly thirty feet. Mark gave Rye a hand in orienting himself from the ladder. "Rye, do you mind turning your flashlight on?" Rye looked down and noticed his wasn't on, he had been relying on the lights of everyone else. Rye pulled it out and flicked it on, but nothing. He tried banging it on his hand a few times and finally twisted the top and it came on. "They really need to quit using outdated equipment." "Good luck with that." was all Mark said. On this level the corridor was much narrower. Doors were frequent. Most of them were closed. As they walked forward, their lights darted here and there looking for an open door. All were closed. At one point there was a double door they crossed. It was partially opened. Mark poked his head and light inside. "Mark, what the hell, don't just..." Rye's warning was again cut off. Mark walked inside. Rye just stood there. A hand popped out and beckoned for him to come in. "Mark, this isn't the time to be goofing around." Rye's body jolted slightly when Mark turned around and his flashlight croaked up on his face. "Where is your sense of adventure Gristoz?" "Mark, we're in the middle of the ocean on a sinking ship looking for survivors, I really don't want this to turn into an adventure." Disappointed, Mark turns around without saying anything. They were a few feet from the entrance to the two door system as their lights slowly scanned the area in front of them. It was a mess hall. To the far end on the left was a small kitchen with an open door and large open window. Along the wall were compartments (booths) with seats, tables and windows looking outside. A flash of lightning caught Rye's eye in the distance. In the middle of the room were long tables that had been bolted down. The chairs in the room were not so fortunate, they along with plates, dishes and what Rye could only describe as food, had been scattered all over. Both of their radios cracked with the voice of a random worker. "We have survivors." The main supervisor did not answer. "The radio's must not be able to penetrate the metal." was all Mark said. "Right." Rye said in acknowledgement. Another random worker cracked on the radio, "Confirmed, survivors towards the aft of the ship." "10-4. Brief them on the situation and help escort them back to the docking port." The main supervisor had heard that one. "I guess we're not so lu..." Mark was interrupted by Rye tapping him on the shoulder. Rye made a shush motion as his head and then his right hand motioned to his side towards the window in the kitchen. Mark didn't change his body direction, but out of the corner of his eyes he could see a figure watching them. Rye was the first to respond, "We're here to help. Are you alright?" They turned towards the kitchen and Rye's flashlight flung up towards the window. They didn't get a good look at it, but it was a shadow and it ducked down. "We're here to help, we're no threat to you." Rye's answer to the shadow didn't accomplish anything. Mark pulled his radio out, "We have at least one confirmed survivor." There was no answer. "We're no threat to you, please come out." Mark's voice also did not get a response. Unlike Mark's answer, Rye was holding his hand on his flashlight to use it as a makeshift weapon if necessary. As they approached the kitchen, they heard a movement and a bang as something metal hit the ground; they then heard a click and a clunk. "The hell?" Rye stopped in his tracks. "Mark, I don't like this." "Quit being a coward and go. It's your ghost, so you get to make first contact." Mark pushed Rye forward into the kitchen. There was nothing there, just pots and pans on the ground, along with broken dishes. Food was everywhere. Glass crunched under Rye's boots. His flashlight darted to the far end of the kitchen and there was a stainless steel door. A random worker cracked on the radio again about several survivors being found. Rye went forward and reached his hand to the door and pulled it open. About half way open he heard a voice.

"Stay away!" The voice was female.

"We're from the nearby oil rig. We're here to help." Rye tried to assume as reassuring a voice as he could. His flashlight scanned the room, but he didn't see anyone. As Rye and Mark walked towards the back of the freezer, an object flew in the air towards them. Rye's head turned towards it as it flew passed and Mark jumped to the side. "Ma'am, we don't have time for this. Your ship is sinking." As he and Mark turned past a storage rack, his flashlight aimed at the far corner and he saw the woman. Red hair, pale skin, white jacket, black pants. There was someone behind her, male in appearance. She was holding a ladle in front of her in a defensive position, she was also shaking. "Don't come any closer." was what she said, fear was in her voice. They were about ten feet apart. Mark didn't give Rye a chance to speak. "Your ship is sinking. We're part of the rescue mission. You need to come with us." "Ma'am, please, you need to listen. The ship is sinking and..." Rye was cutoff by her. "We're not going anywhere." was all she said. "Ma'am, we don't have time for this." Rye was trying to be more assertive in his speaking. "Leave!" was all she said.

"We don't have time for this shit." Mark had finally lost his patience. He started walking towards her, quickly. She took a swing with the ladle. His hand grabbed hers and then his other hand grabbed her arm. "Let me go, let me go!" "Rye, get over here and help me!" Mark's plea was answered with Rye hurrying over. The woman moved to the side as he tried to pull the ladle from her arm. He turned around behind her and put his arms around her waist and pulled hard. He got an elbow in the arm and lots of fidgeting for his trouble. He felt her shoe slide down against his pant leg and into his boot toe. Rye only had a quick image of steel toed boots in his mind. He tightened his grip and she fidgeted less. Mark ripped the ladle from her hand and boomed his voice at her, "If you keep acting up, I'll knock you out and we'll drag you to the dock if necessary." He threw the ladle over his his shoulder and boomed his voice again. "Is that clear MISS?" She started shaking as she nodded her head. Mark spoke again. "Rye is going to let you go now, and you are going to give us your full cooperation." She nodded. Rye let her go. "Now, we need your help in finding any possible survivors. Do you understand?" Mark was already walking over to her companion as he talked to her. He crouched down to get a good look at him. Black hair, same color skin as the woman, same white jacket and black pants. "Is this your friend?" Mark's flashlight went up to the man's eye and he used his thumb to pull open his eyelid; his eye was rolled back into his head. "I don't know him, we work opposite shifts." She was still shaking slightly as Mark stood up again and looked at her. Rye's flashlight was on her, this close Mark could see that there were several cuts on her hands and face, there was a bruise on her face. "Are you injured and do you need assistance?" Mark's question was met with her shaking her head. "Okay, we need to leave this area and look for any other survivors. Do you know where they might be?" Rye stood back and the only thought on his mind as he couldn't get a word in was, 'there he goes again, taking charge of everything.' Her shaking finally stopped. "They'll probably be near the shelter rooms." Rye liked her voice, but he had to remind himself why he was here. Mark continued, "Why weren't you there with them?"

"There wasn't enough time."

"What do you mean that..." Mark was interrupted by Rye, "Mark, quit being an ass." Rye felt a certain satisfaction in his friend's demeanor changing; he also had to hold back a chuckle, this was neither the time nor the place.

"My shift was just starting; his had just ended." She motioned towards her companion slumped over, "We had an alert on the radio about getting to the shelters, and the ship started rocking. We were the only ones here and trying to enjoy ourselves."

"You're ship might have been hammered by the Midian Meteor Shower, at least that's what we think." Rye was trying to speak finally. Her demeanor finally calmed down as she spoke, "That's not possible, we were supposed to be on the other side of the...". She was cutoff as Rye's and Mark's radios cracked, "Status report: main entrance deck has been secured of survivors. We've searching the next deck up and down." It was the main supervisor again.

"Ma'am, we're going to get you and your friend here off the ship and to the dock before we continue. Any objections?" Rye picked up her friend and lumped him over his shoulder; the woman just shook her head. They were off; it took about thirty minutes to get back out of the ship. It was no easy feat between two people to move an unconscious body down a ladder. Radio chatter had picked up about more survivors being found. Including the main deck, the deck immediately above and below had been completed swept. So far the rescue attempt had found thirty five survivors; seven on the main deck, thirteen on the deck above, and fifteen on the deck below. Chatter occasionally picked up about injured people - fourteen of the survivors had some kind of minor injury, in five cases it was a broken bone. On a more grim note at least twenty seven had been found dead.

"How many of you were on this ship in total ma'am?", Rye hadn't wanted to interrogate her like Mark had done, but to improve their efforts it was necessary. She was immediately in front of him, but stopped and turned around like he had asked an intrusive question, however, to his surprise, "Roughly one hundred and seventy....six I think.", she did answer. Rye inquired further, "That accounts for only fifty-four of your people. Would the others be on the upper and lowermost decks?". She seemed optimistic, "If they had time to make it to the life-boats, they would either be on the lower level or would have ejected when we hit atmosphere." Rye tried to share her optimism, "Hopefully they ejected."

"If they were on the lower levels when the ship made surface contact, they were probably knocked out. That area has been taking on water also. They're probably dead if they didn't eject."

"MARK!"

Mark flinched at Rye's rebuke. They had been moved again without realizing it, the woman had been trailing behind to speak with Rye. Mark was moving his flashlight here and there, but there were no others around them. All three of them stopped and started looking around when the lights to the ship powered on.

"The power is back on. Is it possible to get this ship airborn?" Mark seemed eager. She shook her head. "I don't know.", "What do you mean you don't know? How can you..."

"MARK!"

Mark flinched again and this time he was quiet, minded his business and proceeded to walk ten feet in front of them. "I hope they are all right." Rye tried to lighten the situation, she agreed, "So do I." He had been trying to build rapport with her the entire time, but Mark's interjections and interogation style left much to be desired.

They were finally at the entrance. It had started to drizzle outside and there was lightning cracking in the distance. The ramp they had taken to enter the ship the first time around was on an inclination and pointing up, now it was definitely pointed down. The ship had sank at least ten feet under the waves in the hour they had been in the ship. Rye looked over towards the main mast of the rig; right under it next to the office was a assembled a large group of worker personel and several crew members from the Haydurian ship. The main supervisor was next to the group, talking with several other worker leads and worker personel. They couldn't hear anything at that distance, and it was several minutes before the three were actually in ear shot.

"...much longer. It will probably be another hour or two...", it was the main supervisor speaking. Rye was having a hard time making out what he was saying. Mark interrupted his concentration. "Rye." "Not now." Rye gave a have passing look back to Mark and waved his hand in dismissal. With a deathly tired shoulder, Rye set the woman's friend down and he put his hand up to his shoulder to massage it. He walked closer to the group. He could hear it now.

"It won't fly." There was a Haydurian speaking. "At all? We have the power back on." It was the main supervisor speaking to him. The Rye presumed the Haydurian speaking was up in the chain of command; he was decorated more than the others and in a blue military outfit. "That's good. It'll make this easier." The Haydurian pulled out a strange looking handset and started to talk to it. "How many people are left on the ship?" A voice chimed back, "One hundred and three." "That's no good." The Haydurian looked up at the sky and then the ship again. "How many people have active vitals?" It chimed back again, "Sixty-six". The Haydurian frowned. "How many are Haydurian?" He cursed when he heard the response "Twenty-one." He was already heading back to the ship. Rye heard him make a shout to the group of workers and ship's crew members and several of the Haydurians followed him. They were headed back to the ship.

The main supervisor and several other workers followed them, he held up his radio, "All available workers, we're going back in; proceed with caution. ETA until the vessel sinks is about two hours." Rye winced as he watched them walk past and back towards the ship. His shoulder hurt, he really wanted out of this, but lives were also on the line. He had to remind himself, including his. He started running towards the group as they went back in. Mark was soon back at his side. As he was splitting up with the other workers, he saw the occasional Haydurian walking briskly past him. A few of them were carrying what he could only assume was an unconscious or dead body; many of them though were carrying gear in lockers, a few of them weapons. Rye didn't like the looks of this. After navigating for what seemed like an eternity, they found themselves on the second deck from the main; there was another ladder leading to the deck above them. So far they hadn't found any survivors. Several other oil rig workers had walked by them, they didn't seem to be having much luck either. Rye figured knowing the layout of the ship, they would be able to navigate it quicker. About thirty minutes had elapsed and their radios cackled to life again. "All Milford hands, we're leaving the ship. All survivors have been accounted for and are being routed to the rig. The Haydurians are going to stay behind to pull any essentials they can from the ship."

"Let's get the hoohah outta here." Rye grabbed Mark by the shoulder and pointed back towards the direction they came. Mark nodded in agreement. It was another twenty minutes before they got back to the dock. Rye looked down at the ocean below them, the ramp had sunk again. He looked up at the cranes and noted they had been lowered. "Not too soon." He muttered to himself. "What?" Mark inquired. "Nevermind.", was all Rye said. Back at the dock Rye and Mark watched the commotion as Haydurians were entering and exiting the vessel. There was more of them gathered at the rig, along with a large number of crates, lockers and barrels inbetween them. "I wonder what's in them." Mark's curiosity would have been an interrogation if it was a Haydurian. "Not interested." Rye retorted. He was scanning the group for the woman and man from earlier, but he couldn't see them. He spent several more minutes looking for them but couldn't find them. He heard a whirring noise behind him and shouting. He turned around to see a Haydurian running across the ramp to the dock. His the rig supervisor cackled on the radio again, "That's it, raise the cranes." The ramp was pulled from the door of the vessel. Rye felt himself wince at the fact it hadn't been properly secured to the spacecraft. He figured it wasn't enough time. He heard more shouting. It was the higher ranking Haydurian from earlier. He was talking to the handset he was holding again. There were several other Haydurians around him, also holding handsets and talking on them. There was a hum from the craft and it started moving.

Rye gasped. Mark was in horror. They could feel the rig moving as the engines on the beast roared to life. "They're fucking crazy!" Mark was beyond terrified at what the Haydurian crew were doing. The ship barely moved at first, but a few seconds later it started moving, faster and faster. Both Rye and Mark watched for what felt like an eternity. The craft had jumped out of the water and it was apparent from them skimming the water that there were two tail fins under the craft; they were strangely intact. It flew several feet above the water and went airborn. It flew off into the distance. Just when anyone couldn't see it, there was a flash of light and the sound of an explosion several seconds later. It was raining hard now and Rye could feel his face getting drenched; his hair was also hanging on his face. He was still in shock at what he had just saw. He couldn't figure out why the craft went airborn when the Haydurians said it couldn't, and then it inexplicably exploded. It didn't make sense. He didn't have much more time to think about it. His radio cracked again and the rig supervisor was on once again.

"The Haydurian ship's commander has chosen to remote detonate their ship as a matter of asset protection and security. No casualties have been reported due to the detonation. The Haydurians have pulled any essential equipment and assets to the rig; they will be our guests until the government can dispatch a ship. ETA is one week. Make them feel welcome. Meeting tomorrow. That is all. Main supervisor out."

Rye's eye twitched in disbelief as he set out a sigh. He put his hand on Mark's shoulder and gave a nod. "I'm checking out for the night. I'm sure your shift is going to be interesting."

"Hey wait..." Mark's voice fell on deaf ears as Rye held up his hand and slowly walked back to his quarters. This was one night he wasn't going to soon forget.

---

---Author's Notes---

Alternative Chapter Name: Getting to Know Your Damaged Goods / Damaged Goods

Milford Bio was the first to make contact with Rye about visiting the woman as an act of good will. Mark's message however, was sent first. Not needing to hear it, Rye had it deleted.

Gamma's casts were removed after she had been sedated, but before she was restrained.

This story takes place on planet Eva. Eva is short for 'Evergea', but no one ever calls it by its official name. Planet Eva is the fourth planet in the Salmare System; sometimes referred to as Sal-IV. Eva has four moons; Hayduria is one of them. Hayduria's designation is Sal-IVb (second moon of the fourth planet).