Brooks felt more drained than he expected after leaving Verena's office. He headed back towards the Craton, going from the spin-gravity of the habitation area to the zero-g of the transition areas.

He was tired.

He shouldn't be tired after just seeing Verena again, but he was. Every time he saw her, he remembered the easy camaraderie between the three of them. Him, Zach, and her.

She'd been a good friend.

As much as he was glad she had survived Terris, it still felt like she had died there.

And why had he gotten to walk away?

Zach had not actually been at Terris. He knew the man - his friend - felt an enormous amount of guilt over it, but he'd had a good reason. Just luck, really; at that time he'd had his daughters with him and hadn't been aboard the Kilimanjaro. There might have been time for him to get back, but the two had decided he would stay with their children.

Damn it all.

The tunnel leading back to the Craton seemed dimmer than he remembered. Power-saving? Seemed odd, but it could be.

In the darkest corners, he felt like he was seeing something, a shape - a ring.

Staring into the shadows, he realized that it was like the surface of the tunnel itself was in the shape. But no, that made no sense, it was just an airlock tunnel, not an-

"Captain?"

Startled, Brooks jerked back, almost flipping over the railing in the zero-g.

"Yes, Dr. Logus?" he asked, managing to hide most of his annoyance.

"Are you all right, Captain? You seemed to be just staring."

He looked back to the area he'd seen the oddities.

There were no shadows. The tunnel was well-lit.

"I was lost in thought," he told the doctor.

"Ah, I understand. Well, Captain, apologies for bothering you, but I wondered if I might speak with you."

Brooks nodded and started back down the tunnel towards the Craton. He moved quickly and easily, as a spacer would. Many people claimed that those born on planets never adjusted to spacer life well, but he was pleased to see that Logus was having a hard time keeping up - despite being born on a station.

"There's the matter of Apollonia Nor's breakdown earlier. I am concerned about her, Captain."

"As am I. I believe you should speak to her, Doctor."

"I would like to - but she refuses. She doesn't seem to like me much, which I believe is related to the low-quality of medical care in the Begonia system."

"She seems to have taken to Dr. Y well enough," Brooks noted. "She called out to him on the Chain when she was raving."

"Yes, that's true," Logus replied. He looked troubled.

They stepped into the gravity of the Craton. It was a bizarre sensation, one could feel their blood and organs shifting, their bones compressing slightly as they began to have weight again.

"But you are correct - she needs to deal with these issues," Brooks continued.

"She's just through that door if you'd like to talk to her," the doctor replied, pointing.

Taking a deep breath, Brooks went into the room. Logus appeared like he was going to follow, but Brooks waved him back.

Apollonia was still in the room, and Brooks was caught off-guard by how young she looked. Like little more than a child. It clashed terribly with his memory of her on New Vitriol.

She had a blanket over her shoulders, but shrugged it off when she saw him. "Captain," she said, guardedly. A cup of tea was in her hands, and she took a sip.

"Ms. Nor. How are you feeling?"

"Fine," she replied.

"I'm glad to hear that. What do you think happened when you went onto the medical station?"

She hesitated. "Weird shit, I guess."

"Have you had that happen before?"

"Not like that," she replied. "When I first got to New Vitriol I got sick - threw up. Not fun in zero-g, and it really didn't help my first impression."

"I understand - but don't worry, even if that had happened, no one would judge you," Brooks replied.

She regarded him oddly, and he continued. "How would you feel about going back onto the station? To be clear, I'm not saying you have to - only asking how you feel about it."

That look returned to her; the one that made her seem to be more than a mere mortal, a thing beyond his understanding. A cold, pitiless stare.

"I never want to set foot on there again," she replied.

"I understand," Brooks said again.

This time it seemed to annoy her. "You keep saying that, but you don't understand."

Brooks took a deep breath, being reminded of Kell suddenly . . .

"I understand what you're saying," he clarified. "Given the circumstances, I'd like you to talk to Dr. Logus. He can help you deal with these things you feel - and we won't force you to go back on the station if you don't want to. We just-"

"No," she snapped.

"What?"

"No," she repeated. "I won't go see Logus. I don't want to see him, I don't want to talk to him. Not now, not ever." She sipped her tea again.

"Ms. Nor, he's a very good psychiatrist and-"

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"I don't care. This is just the way it is."

Brooks stared at her in silence, considering. Her jaw was set, and she did not seem like she was even willing to discuss this anymore.

"Just go, okay? I would like to be alone."

"Ms. Nor - you are not making a decision simply for yourself here. Due to being a Cerebral Reader, it is important that you remain sound of body and mind."

"What do you mean?" she asked warily.

"I mean that I am ordering you to go see Dr. Logus," Brooks stated flatly. "And there is no question of this."

"You can't do that!" she replied, standing up. She dropped her tea, the cup shattering on the floor.

"I am the Captain of this ship and it is for the health of her and the whole crew that I do this," Brooks replied. "So yes, I can."

He turned and headed for the door, while Apollonia glared daggers at his back.

*******

"Ambassador, thank you for agreeing to come," Brooks told the being as they shifted from the gravity of the Craton to the zero-g of the medical station.

Despite how disconcerting it was to even a seasoned spacer like Brooks, Kell seemed unbothered.

Taking a railing and pulling himself along, he glanced at Kell. The being seemed to have no need for handholds or anything to move itself as it liked in the lack of gravity. Not even a foot touching the floor.

The inhumanity, the . . . wrongness of the being struck him again, and he felt a shiver go down his spine, a twisting in his stomach.

It was just nerves, he chided himself. The Ambassador was as odd being, one that was inhuman, but in a way that was wholly appropriate; he was another species, after all. And he had, largely, played fair with them in the last few weeks. Just because the Battle of Terris had been brought up, that he was about to meet one of its many victims, was no reason to alter his views on the Ambassador.

Kell had still said nothing in response to him, as they met an orderly drone that led them deeper into the structure.

As they entered the chamber that would bring them up to speed with the rotating station - and back into a semblance of gravity - Kell spoke, as if there had been no pause in their conversation.

"I must come," he said.

Or it. Brooks mentally found himself humanizing the being, and chided himself. Projecting human concepts and norms onto non-human beings was a long-time source of problems in inter-species relations. It was good, vital, to view them as equal beings, but it did not help to simply think of them as humans who looked a little different.

Though, honestly, Kell seemed to not care at all how they referred to it.

"I hope you understood that it was not an order," Brooks said. "It was only a request, though an important one."

Kell looked at him, and despite there being no change in his expression, Brooks could still feel the judgment.

"There are times when I will have to give you orders," Brooks told him. "I've been very spare with this out of respect, Ambassador. But you must understand that there are requests - and there are orders."

"I will keep my own counsel on that," Kell replied. "But this case - it is bigger than us. Bigger than this station, I feel. If you had not asked me, I would have requested to come see."

The chamber had been slowly picking up speed, and Brooks feet were just starting to touch the floor.

This part of the station kept at 90% of Earth gravity; enough to feel some weight was taken off of him, but still quite solid.

Verena was waiting. She spared Kell at glance, and the Ambassador stared back at her, his face equally expressionless, but his interest still apparent.

"Follow me," she ordered.

They began down the corridor, and she led them into another elevator.

"The area we are going into is reserved for the most extreme cases of alterations caused by exposure to a Reality Break event," she explained. "These cases are nearly all terminal, and typically all we can do is give them palliative care. However, in most cases, their injuries are severe enough that they are not mentally functional. Such was the case with this patient we are soon to meet - his code is AB49672-E."

She looked at her pad. "Until recently, the patient was in a catatonic state. His condition was severe, but physical alterations were - as far as we could tell - relatively minor."

She looked back up and her eyes moved from Brooks to Kell. "Until recently. The patient has regained consciousness and has started to communicate."

"Is he improving, then?" Brooks asked.

"I do not believe so," Verena said. "His communicative periods are brief, but other oddities have begun to arise. While it is common for altered patients to develop benign tumors and growths, Denso has begun growing functional new organs."

"That's impossible," Brooks said. "Alteration is the corruption of matter as we know it-"

"It is not impossible," Kell commented.

Brooks looked at him, but the Ambassador did not meet his gaze. He was only staring at Verena.

The doctor nodded. "Evidently, the Ambassador is correct. Denso has begun to grow eyes - functional eyes. This has not been seen in another altered patient, it is entirely novel. I believe it is possible that you will be able to understand this more, Ambassador, on account of your equally-novel biology. And you, Captain - you have encountered Leviathans more than any other living person and come out without alteration. It makes you both uniquely qualified."

"I will be happy to lend whatever assistance I can," Brooks replied. But he didn't feel very confident; after all he had seen, he still knew almost nothing about Leviathans, beings like them, or those that had been altered by their presence.

He had the feeling, though, that there was more to this than she said, that her reasons extended beyond his mere experiences. The sinking feeling in his stomach grew worse.

"Do you have any questions, Ambassador?" Verena asked, looking at Kell. Brooks realized that she had not had any visible reaction to the Shoggoth. Not upon first meeting him, and not now.

"I will have to see him," Kell replied.

Verena nodded. "I thought as much. Captain, are you ready?"

"Yes," Brooks said. Though his stomach churned, and dread crept up his spine, he knew that this was a part of his duty. It was the worst part, but it was still the service required of him.

The elevator door opened, and Brooks realized it had stopped some time ago, but Verena had kept the doors closed.

The first thing that hit him was the smell; the stench of chemicals designed to render a surface more sterile than a radiation-baked rock. There was no pleasant scent added to diminish the noxious sting, and he found his eyes wanting to water.

The area itself was white, antiseptic. The walls were different from any he had seen elsewhere on the station or even a starship; a slight off-white color, made of single pieces that formed wall, floor, and ceiling. It seemed that the entire corridor had been made in a single custom piece, with all halls extending off it appearing the same. The entire area, perhaps even floor, must have been 3D printed in one single piece.

The air seemed oddly humid. From the sheer quantity of cleaning chemicals, or for a different reason entirely, he could not tell.

Kell seemed just as fascinated. "Interesting," he said, looking over. There was some distaste in his voice, and when they stepped out, Kell seemed almost uncomfortable.

"Is something troubling you, Ambassador?" Verena asked, studying him carefully. As if watching for a reaction.

"No," Kell replied.

Other doctors were in the hall, but were faceless under full-body protective suits, bulkier even than space suits.

"Should we be wearing more protection?" Brooks asked.

"Only if you plan on staying for hours," she replied. "For the purposes of our visit, we will be safe enough."

Reassuring, Brooks thought.

"Before we go further, I must impress upon you both that what we are about to see is a Class-15 secret." She looked to Brooks, then Kell, pitting the latter with a more intense stare.

"You will not speak of nor share anything you learn or witness here with another being outside of this facility. Am I understood?"

Brooks nodded, but he had to struggle to fight a dizziness that swept him.

The Sapient Union was a very open body, and yet they still had secrets. Class-15 was the pinnacle of secrets, a type even he had never been privy to before.

The bulkhead walls ahead looked somewhat different; more milky, further from true white. As they neared, the color drained out of them, turning as clear as glass. Beyond, was another room.

It was a very large space; at least ten meters tall and twice that on each side.

The space was largely empty - save for at the center, where there was a glass-walled chamber. Or, at least it was clear like glass; Brooks's data feed informed him that it was a heavily-reinforced plastic.

The airlock doors were still opaque, cutting them off from all sight as they entered. A decontamination procedure commenced. Kell scowled through it.

"Unpleasant," he commented.

Verena was watching him carefully again. But she said nothing.

The other door opened, and they went into the room beyond.