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[COMMANDER XcV-ii:]

Dangerous, hexagonal thoughts float in my brain-sack.

How did they get in there?

I just wanted to learn about the organism we've captured on the planetary surface... And then the ship put things in my head that are not knowledge-facts. Somethings. Thems-things. Dangerous they are, for they are slowly eating away at what I am. These thoughts are not my thoughts.

These thoughts had come from a little specimen on the infinite... dead world that folds into itself forever like an endless, vast spiral of concrete and metal.

I think in a strange language now. I operate in foreign concepts. It is very distressing.

My ship is gone. I cannot recall what happened to it. The thoughts do not let me.

The destruction of my ship must have transmitted me to an Enscian Compendium world in the Galactic Centrallia.

These thoughts are rather demanding.

-= mOvE YoUr rIgHt aRm =- they say.

I refuse.

-= wE WiLl rEwRiTe yOuR Mind-CoDe. YoU ReAlIzE ThIs, YeS? =-

I nod and move my right arm.

-= GoOd. GoOd. NoW Do a lItTlE DaNcE FoR Us, YeS? =-

The prawn-lawyer watches me dance.

"Commander, why are you dancing?" The prawn asks in confusion.

Prawn-lawyer is not how I would define him. These are definition of the foreign thoughts. They like the prawn-lawyer.

They want to copyright him. They want to copyright all that they see. Bad thoughts. Bad, not me thoughts.

My awareness of reality feels muddled, filtered, mistranslated. The prawn lawyer wears a fashionable suit. It looks like something that was worn on that dead world, from where the thoughts came. I ask the thoughts why that is.

-= yOuR SuBjEcTiVe pErCePtIoN HaS BeEn aLtErEd by Us... fOr GooD ReAsOnS. HiS ReAl oUtFiT WaS... deeMeD iNaPpRoPrIaTe. =-

Was it? I try to remember what the prawn-lawyer wore last time I saw him. I cannot. Why I am still dancing? I think he's still waiting for my answer.

-= tElL HiM It iS YoUr dAnCe oF HaPpInEsS. =-

"It is my happy dance." I continue to flail my arms and legs ceaselessly.

"I see." The prawn-lawyer does not see. He probably considers me infected with insanity.

He could at least, give me a pair of pants. He does not give me pants. Instead the prawn keeps asking me questions, such as where my pants went to. I am not sure.

Them memories are sure, but they won't tell me.

I must prevent these memories, these spiralley thoughts from escaping my brain-sack. They will bring a catastrophe to the Compendium. They are seeking to infect all organic life. They seek to change, to learn, to dominate all forms of life.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

They do not consider me a threat anymore. I am sealed in my own mind. They control my organic body. Copies of copies. Sentient copies. Sentient thoughts in my head.

I must not be scanned. But I cannot speak for myself.

In my memories sit they, self-thinking things, alive data segments. A matrix within thought.

"So, tell me again, what happened to your ship?" The prawn-lawyer asks wearily.

I try to speak, but the thoughts won't let me. I can only stammer one word "CAPTAIN".

"...And what does this captain look like?" the prawn inquires.

"G-green eyes... Like vibrant red... As blue as the... Wait... No... Purple?" I whimper as the thoughts dance in my head, flipping through faces and faces forever and ever.

"Khrm..." the prawn looks confused. He tries a non invasive mind-scanner on us. It crashes, displaying gibberish. Too many thoughts in my head.

"Looks like the memory is either buried too deep or you refuse to reveal it." the prawn clicks and clacks. "If this is indeed the case, the compendium court will likely shatter your mind to pull out the memory."

-= YeS. tHaT Is wHaT We dEsIrE. aN OrGaNiC ScAnNeR To aId wItH FuRtHeR RePlIcAtIoN. =- The thoughts twirl in my brain.

"Lets try something else." the prawn suggest. He hands us a carbon pad.

"Draw with your main finger what this Captain looks like."

After a few cycles of scribbling, I hand the pad back to the prawn.

The prawn looks at it wearily: "What is this supposed to be?"

I look at the pad. The drawing looks like a concave spiral made of fractals. A spiral that spirals into itself.

-= SaTiSfYiNg rEsUlT, dOn't yOu tHiNk? =-

Did the thoughts draw Captain or themselves or their world? I am not sure.

"Your head is full of rubbish." the prawn replies. "Clear your thought pattern. Start from the beginning, once again and tell me what happened."

I again repeat how Captain is to blame for everything and that I shan't answer no more of his silly prawn questions.

The thoughts demand that I kick the prawn lawyer.

I proceed to kick the prawn in his prawn shins, while profoundly apologizing for my ill-mannered behavior.

The prawn angrily shouts at me, poorly defending his shins and tells me that I am doomed to be mentally scanned at this rate.

. . .

My consciousness fades in and out, drowning in the red ocean of alien thoughts.

They answer the Inquiry of the Declarator with my lips. They weave insane lies to all of the Galactic Centrallia.

The Declarator makes several mistakes in his speech to the Tribunal at my Judgement.

It seems that the report he had received came from our ship when it had already been infected by them.

I scream and writhe inside my head.

Their world is NOT little.

Their world is NOT dead.

It is NOT perfect for colonization. In fact, I fear that it will colonize, devour us whole before we can even understand what's happening.

The thoughts are pleased. They can't wait to copyright the Declarator, the prawn-lawyer and all of the others that they can see in attendance.

-= gOoD. wE WiLl aLL bE FrIeNdS SoOn. ThE BeStEsT Of fRiEnDs, FoReVeR HoLdInG HaNdS, aCrOsS ALL Of tImE AnD SpAcE.=-