He was getting a call; an interstellar one. There were not a lot of reasons that such an inordinately expensive call would be made to him, not when there were more mundane channels open to send messages.

The last time he'd gotten such a communication had been when System Admiral Vandoss had told him about the Shoggoths.

His stomach twisted, but he did not let it show.

He glanced to Verena, and she could see the suspicion on her face. It was not directed at him, and he imagined she was thinking the same thing as he; this timing was too convenient to be a coincidence.

She gave him a nodd to go ahead.

"Captain Brooks speaking," he said.

"Ah, good, Captain. I had hoped I would reach you in time," the man said. He was a thin-faced man of an age where medical technology could no longer quite keep him looking young; his hair was graying at the roots and lines creased his face.

"Director Freeman," Brooks said, feigning surprise. "What can I do for you?"

The man smiled, but it was thin-lipped, the distaste clear upon him. Brooks had long suspected that Freeman personally disliked him, even if he did present reasons for his opposition to Brooks's appointment to captain in the past.

But it didn't mean Brooks had to be happy to see him.

"I have been made aware of the situation at Medical Station 29," the man replied. "With regards to the . . . special case of patient AB49672-E."

"Michal Denso," Brooks said.

The director ignored him. "How is the situation proceeding?"

Brooks hesitated. "I'm not sure I can answer that, Director. MS-29 is under Medical authority, and Admiral Urle has ordered me to maintain silence about this case."

"I assure you I am quite aware," Freeman said affably. "I have been in touch with Medical Command and this case will soon be transferred fully to the research division."

That shocked Brooks. Since when did research take in human subjects? There were numerous laws limiting just what sorts of beings they could conduct research on, and without full consent they could not touch a sapient being.

He had to willfully keep from glancing to Verena - he did not know if she was supposed to know of this yet, and unless the director asked him if anyone was in the room with him, he was not going to offer that information. "I'm sorry, what?"

The man's smile turned somewhat icy. "You understand me perfectly, Captain."

Brooks turned more serious. "Is this an official command, then?"

"Consider it that, yes," Freeman said. "Now appraise me of the situation."

"My knowledge - and understanding - are limited. You might get better information from Dr. Urle herself," Brooks commented.

"Dr. Urle is unavailable right now," Freeman replied. "She is not currently on the station - I understand she is dealing with a personal issue involving your Executive Commander right now. Now, Captain, I will accept the risk of some incorrect information, but I would specifically like to know what you know. Please continue."

Brooks couldn't stall it anymore. "Denso appears to be changing rapidly. There have been two incidents that have accelerated this. His mass is increasing and he is beginning to emit dangerous levels of krahteons."

"What is Dr. Urle planning on doing about this?" Freeman asked.

"She has not told me yet what she has decided. If Denso's changes continue to increase, which it seems they will, then he will soon become too dangerous to the station. For now, we are observing."

"Excellent," Freeman replied. "I do not wish to interrupt the doctor's personal life, but please find her as soon as is allowable and tell her to continue to observe the patient. I will have a ship there in eight hours to take custody of him."

"I'm not sure that he can be moved," Brooks said. "His mass is increasing-"

"My people will handle the movement, Captain. You need not concern yourself with it. I would not allow anyone - of yours, mine, or Dr. Urle's - to come into harm's way. But under no account allow Denso to die. He is invaluable, Captain. Do you understand?"

Brooks felt his stomach plummet.

"I cannot make promises, Director. None of us understand this situation and it is developing rapidly. Denso might die at any time - or alter into something dangerous that threatens this station and my ship."

Freeman pit him with a glare. "Those are risks I am prepared to take. Follow my orders to the best of your abilities, Captain. I know you, of all people, understand just what a threat Leviathans are. Patient AB49672-E may be our way to finally learn more about them."

"Yes, sir," Brooks replied.

Freeman cut the line, and Brooks looked up to Verena.

"One of my doctors must be a spy for Director Freeman," she said. "But they lied . . . I did not tell them I was coming to deal with a personal matter. I mentioned you."

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

"So it's someone who thinks they're doing the right thing by going over your head," Brooks said, feeling a sense of deja vu.

"Director Freeman has been interested in getting a foothold in this station for years - it seems that with this case, he has finally made an open move."

The Leviathan Research Division had always had a grim reputation, though he had always hoped they might one day understand more about the beasts so as to co-exist with them safely.

But this . . .

"Verena, do you think there could be value in them studying Denso?" Brooks asked.

She did not stop as she turned to leave.

"No," she replied. "He is still my patient, not a guinea pig. Do you think so, Captain?"

"No," he had to agree.

"I cannot tell you what I'm about to do," she said. "But you surely know. Will you follow the orders Freeman has just given you and try to stop me?"

Brooks took a deep breath before answering.

"No," he said.

"Are you still with me in my prior course of action?" she asked.

"I am," he said. "I will fully back you, no matter what comes."

"And when Freeman attempts to destroy your career?" she asked.

Only a continuation of a long struggle, Brooks thought.

But he did not let his bitterness show. "I will sit with a steady heart, knowing that I did the right thing and helped save lives."

*******

Ham Sulp stuffed a wad of chew into his mouth, biting down on it hard.

The scrubber drones had cleaned every inch of the room hours ago; his tests at over 200 random spots showed no trace of the growth chemicals - and nasty bugs that found it a wonderful place to live - that had been inevitably spilled in here while the cloning tanks had been present.

He'd reluctantly cleared it for human habitation. And so the drones were putting up walls, partitioning the huge empty space into rooms for those thousands of transfers from MS-29 who now had to be housed.

It fell to him, of course. Well, and Zeela Cann. Poor woman was apoplectic over the pace his drones were making. They were a full eight hours behind schedule at this point, but it had been unavoidable.

"This wall is twenty centimeters short," the woman snapped peevishly to a drone, who let out a series of beeps in response.

"That one doesn't understand you," Sulp told her. "You'll have to talk to the controller."

Zeela shot him an annoyed look. "Which one is the controller?"

"Dial your HUD into my channel and you'll find it," he told her.

She tsked and stalked off to berate the proper drone.

Sulp looked at the room. It was twenty centimeters short, but that was okay, this was going to be a communal kitchen, not a room for one of the transfers.

Ten thousand people, coming on. That was a stretch even for him. He'd tabulated the rations and water and air. Always check the air, he knew. Granted, on a ship like the Craton it was never an issue. Nor did they lack for good air scrubbers to keep the carbon dioxide from poisoning them. The scrubbers on this blessed ship would collect all that and pump it back into the growing system. This ship was as close to a closed system as entropy would allow, and it was a scramming miracle.

He thought about telling Zeela that the room was sized right. But the drone she was still talking to wasn't about to have its feelings hurt. Machines didn't feel - well, at least these ones didn't.

Its mechanical voice was hard to understand, its vocoder primitive. Rarely did it have to talk, but it seemed to be giving Zeela back as good as it got. Eventually she'd get tired of arguing with it and go do something constructive. It was good for someone that uptight to let off some steam sometimes.

A notification told him that someone had entered the room.

"No one is cleared to come in here yet-" he growled, cutting himself off as he saw who it was. "Oh, Dr. Y. Didn't realize it was you."

"Greetings, Commander," the machine who did feel replied. "I have brought representatives of the Emigree Commitee from Medical Station 29 to view your excellent work."

Sulp looked past Y and saw several other people waiting a polite distance back.

Had they not been here, Sulp would have ripped into the doctor for not warning him. But being what he was, he'd probably realized that, hadn't he?

"They're welcome to look," Sulp growled shortly.

"Excellent. Dr. Henlock, if you would follow me . . ." Y walked past him, and the group of emigrees followed. "Commander Sulp has been converting this storage deck to housing for your people. Over a thousand families will be able to stay comfortably in here for the five days it will take us to reach Gohhi Station . . ."

"Are these generic rooms, or have they been made to accommodate the make-up of actual emigrants?" one of the group asked.

Sulp chimed in. "We're making a rough proportion of singles versus families versus couples, but for the most part they're generic. It's much simpler on supply this way."

"Will this cause inconvenience for our people?" a woman asked.

"It's interim housing," Sulp replied. "It'll serve 'em for the interim."

The woman frowned, looking to Dr. Y for clarification.

"Commander Sulp means no disrespect," the AI told her. "He is simply a being of direct words. I have full confidence that these accommodations will meet your people's needs."

"Is this a difficulty for your people?" the third man asked. He sounded genuinely concerned about it.

It was a bit, Sulp thought. But even he wouldn't just say that. "We'll manage," he said. "Not even the highest pop cap we've had on here."

Dr. Henlock chimed in. "If Dr. Y says it, I believe him. In all the years I've known him, he has not lied to me."

Dr. Y let out a soft, human-like laugh. "Why thank you, Doctor. I always appreciated your support back in the day."

"What do you think of Dr. Urle?" the man asked now, concern creasing his face. "While she's efficient, I have to admit that-"

"Excuse me," Dr. Y said, standing up straighter, his head tilting as if something distant had caught his attention. "While I would prefer not to discuss the current head of MS-29 in such a way, I also have news. Commander Sulp - you may want to hear this as well!"

Sulp found his curiosity piqued. "Yeah?"

"The first of the clones has been successfully birthed. She is alive and in relative good health!"

The group of emigrees cheered.

Sulp said nothing, but stared at the Doctor. Y stared back at him, and Sulp wondered just what the AI was thinking as it looked at him.

He turned away first. "That's good news," he said.