Over a week had passed since Jack’s confrontation with Major Barrett. During that time, things had remained relatively calm aboard the Mothership, though an atmosphere of unease and tension pervaded the ship. Any observant onlooker could sense the brewing conflicts beneath the surface. There were tensions between the Human crew and the Platharian scientists that had been brought aboard, and even greater tensions between the Humans and the scientists’ military escort. The lower-ranking crew members were disgruntled about their living conditions, and the revelation that there were hundreds of available bedrooms aboard—information someone had let slip while omitting certain key details—only fueled their discontent.

Then, there were the rumors surrounding Barrett himself, and the nature of his confrontation with Jack and Agent Okoro. As tranquil as the situation seemed at the moment, it was clear that things wouldn’t stay that way. The Mothership felt like a powder keg waiting to explode, and all it needed was one small push. Jack was increasingly paranoid about being the one responsible for that push, which is why, when Doctor Liu messaged him about needing urgent help with a “scientific endeavor of the utmost importance,” Jack felt an overwhelming sense of relief.

Because of his uncertain background, and his status as a former prisoner of the Kharlath, Liu wasn’t exactly trusted with anything the leadership would consider important. Of course, that didn’t mean he took his work any less seriously, or that he was any less excited about it. But from Jack’s perspective, it was simply a great excuse to disappear deep into the ship’s bowels, far away from prying eyes and any opportunities to put his foot in his mouth.

Walking into Doctor Liu’s makeshift laboratory—a nondescript room somewhere on Deck 16—Jack was startled when he almost collided with a Platharian scientist. He had seen them from a distance before, but never had any reason to interact with them. From afar, the environmental suits and the cold, robotic voices of their translation devices made them seem intimidatingly alien. But up close, to Jack’s surprise, the Platharian standing in front of him seemed strikingly human, and surprisingly feminine. If not for the shiny, light purple skin visible beneath her helmet, he could have easily mistaken her for a human. The proportions were slightly off—a short torso, long legs, large hands, and feet—yet her silhouette was far less alien than that of a Kharlath or Zargon, let alone an Othiri.

“Mister Nereus,” Dr. Liu greeted him, a hint of excitement clearly detectable in his voice, “this is Doctor…”

“Arda,” the Platharian replied in a stunningly human voice. “Also, not technically a doctor. Just a scientist.”

“Incredible, isn’t it? It even translates the names into something we can pronounce! I wonder what mechanism it uses to make that choice!” Dr. Liu could hardly contain his elation as he turned to Jack. “What language do you think we’re speaking?”

“What?” Jack replied, stunned.

“The language we’re using. You just spoke to me in Mandarin. Is that a language you know?” Dr. Liu was beside himself with excitement.

“I… didn’t know it was a language,” Jack replied, still trying to catch up. “What exactly is going on?”

"An accident!" Dr. Liu exclaimed, his face lighting up with enthusiasm. "A wonderful accident—a stray thought while interfacing with the ship triggered some sort of translation protocol. Now, everyone who enters this room perceives everyone else as speaking in their native language."

"Does that mean the ship is interfering with our perception of reality?" Jack asked, a hint of apprehension in his voice.

"In a way, yes," Dr. Liu replied. "The ship has always had the ability to do that. Now it simply has a reason."

"And permission," Arda added, probably to ease Jack's concerns.

"So, is that why you called me here? To test the translator?" Jack inquired, still trying to wrap his head around the implications.

"Partially. For that, I needed a control group—someone previously uninvolved. Why I called you in particular, well, that's a different matter." Dr. Liu adjusted his glasses, searching for the right words. "You see, I require your talents. More specifically, I need the talents of someone I require your talents to convince."

"Stop beating around the bush," Jack chided him, growing impatient. "What do you need from me?"

"I need you to find someone who is spacewalk certified and convince them to help me with a project," the scientist replied.

Jack paused, considering Liu's request. One person immediately came to mind—Mr. Windek, his old crewmate from the Bismarck. He was certainly capable, and probably willing. But during all the time Windek had spent in the infirmary, Jack hadn’t visited or called. He’d barely even texted him a few generic, encouraging messages. It wasn’t that he had intentionally ignored him; he simply always had more pressing matters to attend to, or at least, that’s what he told himself. But now, when he was out, to face him with a request, it certainly would be awkward.

"I might know someone," Jack blurted out, trying to talk himself into it.

“Good. It’s really not a big deal,” Dr. Liu replied, his excitement returning. “I just need them to reconnect some wires the Kharlath had severed. The only tricky part is that it’s in a section of the ship that’s not accessible from the inside.”

“Not accessible from the inside?” Jack asked, his curiosity tinged with worry.

“Closed off by the ship itself,” Arda clarified. “We believe it’s a defense mechanism to protect certain vital systems from the ship’s inhabitants.”

“From us, you mean?” Jack’s concern deepened. The explanation did little to ease his worries.

“From the Kharlath,” Arda explained, her voice lowering as if she were revealing something particularly shameful. “According to Dr. Liu’s observations, they’ve been cutting off various processing centers throughout the ship, trying to isolate whatever’s been making the decisions on board this entire time.”

“They’ve essentially been trying to lobotomize the ship,” Dr. Liu interjected. “And we think they’ve succeeded, at least partially. I’ve mentioned before that the ship operates like an animal, running on instinct. But Arda has a theory—that the parts of the ship capable of higher reasoning, the brain, essentially, were shut off some time before I came aboard. Other parts had to compensate, leading to malfunctions and various lapses in logic. That’s why it behaves so erratically and unpredictably.”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“This is actually how I ended up working with Dr. Liu in the first place,” Arda added. “We were trying to fix the random temperature fluctuations happening all over the ship. He suggested we reconnect one of the auxiliary processors on this deck. Ever since, the entire ship has maintained a steady 21 degrees Celsius.”

“Incredible! It even automatically converts units of measurement!” Dr. Liu burst out, his excitement palpable, before sheepishly apologizing for the interruption.

“My assumption is that the same thing is happening to pretty much every other system,” Arda continued, unfazed by Liu’s outburst. “The parts of the ship designed to handle vital functions have been cut off. Once we reconnect them, we might be dealing with a rational, understandable entity.”

“And will that be better or worse?” Jack asked, incredulously.

“I assume there will be amends to be made,” Arda replied, her voice filled with conviction. “This ship, this creature, has been hurt and mistreated. We can only hope it has the capacity to understand that we are not the same individuals responsible for that.”

The passion in the Platharian scientist’s voice was unmistakable, her eyes sparkling behind the visor of her helmet. Her convictions were clear: it was the right thing to do. Jack was uneasy about the idea of reconnecting the ship’s brain, but he couldn’t deny that Arda had a point. If this ship was indeed a living, thinking creature, keeping it in its current state was morally indefensible, regardless of the consequences. There was also the issue of undermining Barrett’s authority. What they were planning wasn’t technically against any orders, but the potential fallout was severe enough that keeping him out of the loop was no doubt irresponsible, if not outright treasonous. However, there was a silent understanding among the three of them that this was the right course of action. Major Barrett was not the man to involve in ethical dilemmas, and Jack knew this, regardless of how much he didn’t wish to rock the boat.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled up Mr. Windek’s info on his wristpad and sent him a short message: just a time and place, making it seem like official business. There were others qualified for the task, like Eve, but Windek felt like the right choice. As Jack wandered the corridors, idly passing the time, he began to wonder if he’d been avoiding Windek out of shame. He wasn’t responsible for Windek’s injury—he wasn’t in command, he wasn’t even there. He stopped in his tracks, as if struck by lightning. I wasn’t there. The words echoed in his mind. Was that what was bothering him? He had set off on an ultimately pointless mission, needlessly separating himself from the group, only to end up in the same place anyway. But when Windek went down, he wasn’t there. Would things have turned out differently if he had been? Maybe, maybe not. But it weighed on him. He wasn’t used to making life-and-death decisions. In the heat of the moment, they had come naturally to him. But afterward, when the smoke had cleared and the dust had settled, he found himself agonizing over every single one of them, constantly.

“Mr. Nereus!” a familiar voice called out, less jovial and far more restrained than Jack was used to. It was Windek.

Jack barely recognized his crewmate. Windek had lost a lot of weight; the plumpness was gone from his cheeks, and the color along with it. His head and face were neatly shaved, not a single hair left above his neckline, save for his bushy eyebrows. But more shocking was his demeanor. The cheerful, upbeat Windek Jack knew was replaced by a sad, mournful man with dejected body language. He clumsily tried—and failed—to disguise the characteristic gait that came with his new prosthetic leg.

Jack walked up to him, nodding awkwardly. “I have a job for you, if you want it.”

“I’m on medical leave,” came Windek’s reply, curt but not overtly rude.

“I thought you’d have gotten bored of it by now,” Jack responded, trying to be playful.

“Bored? You think that’s the problem? That I’m too bored of not having two goddamn legs anymore?” Windek himself seemed surprised by the anger in his words.

Instinctively taking a step back, Jack apologized, carefully choosing his next words. “I’m sorry, I misjudged the situation. Back on Daedalus, after I got out of the hospital, all I wanted was to get back into action. I couldn’t stand sitting around after being bedridden for so long. I just figured you’d be in the same boat.”

“No, you’re right. I am,” Windek replied softly, averting his gaze. “I’m just so angry these days. I appreciate the offer, I’m just not sure how much use I can be, given my, you know, situation.”

“Can you do a spacewalk?” Jack asked, choosing to move past the tension.

“Are you kidding?” Mr. Windek’s face suddenly regained a bit of color as he spoke, excitement creeping into his voice. “In zero-G? That’s probably the only thing I can still do the same. You don’t really need both legs in space, right?” he quipped.

“It’s settled, then. We can go right away, I think. We just need to find you a suit,” Jack replied, feeling a wave of relief.

“And fill out the paperwork. Just who exactly am I doing this spacewalk for?” Mr. Windek tried to temper his excitement, though it was clear he was already eager.

“The Platharians, I believe. Technically,” Jack answered, trying to keep an air of mystery.

“You know what, I don’t even care about the details. Just happy to get a bit of time in zero-G. This thing,” Mr. Windek rubbed his new leg disdainfully, “It hurts. Every time I put weight on it, it hurts. The doctors say it’s not supposed to, that it’s all in my head, but how the hell does that help me? I still feel it. The only time it feels good is when I’m doing low-G therapy, but that’s only an hour every two days now.”

“I’m sorry…” Jack faltered, unsure of what to say.

“Nah, don’t be. You came to me with the perfect offer. Literally, couldn’t be better. You’re off ‘feeling sorry for me’ duty for at least two weeks. Enjoy them!” Windek replied, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

The two entered Dr. Liu’s lab, where the pair of scientists were so engrossed in their work that they didn’t even notice them walk in.

“Dr. Liu!” Jack called out, a bit too loudly, startling the scientist. “This is Mr. Windek; he’s going to be our space man!”

Dr. Liu looked up as if he’d seen a ghost, reflexively reaching out his hand to greet Windek. It was only then that Jack realized his mistake. Liu was the man who had raised the bulkhead behind Windek, separating him from his squad—it hadn’t even crossed his mind! In a split second, Jack ran through every possible scenario of how either man could react, dwelling especially on the worst ones.

“Nice to meet you, doctor!” Mr. Windek spoke cheerfully and casually.

It probably wasn’t one of the worst scenarios.

“Do you have your suit?” Arda spoke up, while Dr. Liu was still regaining his composure.

“Whoa,” Mr. Windek replied, impressed. “You sound like you’re from Earth!”

This was the final push Dr. Liu needed to snap back to his senses, and he immediately launched into an explanation of the ship’s translator. With that hurdle out of the way, the group requisitioned a spacesuit from the armory and soon set to work. The plan was simple: Mr. Windek would go outside the ship, maneuver himself in front of the inaccessible room, and then use a Platharian sonic cannon—graciously donated by one of Arda’s friends—at point-blank range to break the window and enter. According to Dr. Liu, a force field would activate the instant the window lost its airtight seal, keeping the air in but allowing Mr. Windek to pass through freely. Once inside, Dr. Liu could easily talk him through reconnecting the equipment in the room to the rest of the ship. In theory, it was all relatively trivial.

After some difficulty getting into the spacesuit, Windek was off. The first part of the plan went off without a hitch: he easily maneuvered himself into position. However, the second part was proving more difficult: no matter which setting he tried, the cannon simply didn’t have enough power to shatter the window. But, just as he was about to give up, the window fell, by itself. Jack felt a slight chill as Mr. Windek gave them the news. Was this an invitation from the ship itself? Or perhaps, even more worryingly, a trap? Soon enough, his crewmate had set to work, under the guidance of Doctor Liu. No sooner than he was done, a high pitched wailed filled their ears, and communications were cut off. Just as the group were starting to become concerned, Mr. Windek’s voice came back, bluntly relaying a horrifying message:

“This parasite now speaks for us.”