“HOW CAN YOU DO THIS!? THIS IS FOR THE FUTURE OF YOUR OWN PEOPLE!” Laurel squirms against her bindings. The Grodrrn who took her, Dzhonn, has said nothing since. He’s simply maneuvered carefully through the ship, using his strange device as he goes if they encounter anyone. Laurel was never big into sci-fi movies, but it’s the first thing she thinks of when he uses it. It stops whoever they encounter dead in their tracks with a blank expression.
Now, Dzhonn is prepping a ship to take off. The woman keeps hoping someone will figure him out, but it’s like he doesn’t exist. He even killed one of his fellow Grodrrns without a thought. She doesn’t get it, though. To her knowledge, the Grodrrn race will die out if things don’t happen as Jardzen Khla explained. But, maybe that’s why she’s still alive. Dzhonn wants to be Chulm’chn to the next Saurmynnyka.
Still, she tries to distract him or irritate him into making mistakes, “Are you deaf!? I said MY belly is carrying YOUR future!”
Dzhonn ignores her. She knows nothing about piloting, and even more solidly nothing about piloting Grodrrn ships, but he just started the engines. They must be close to takeoff.
Laurel screams, “I’m talking to you!”
Dzhonn finally acknowledges her by turning around, but he simply stares at her. She asks sternly again, “Do you really want to jeapordize the future of your-…”
What Dzhonn does to interrupt her surprises her more than when he tried his device on her. He states in a deep, but flawless voice, “You’re not. You are nothing. Your child is nothing. That child’s child is nothing. You know nothing of the situation you’re in, human. And, you know nothing of even your own future.” He turns calmly back around, finishing his preparations. He also seems to send a message, but it’s not even in Grodrrn, from what few characters she can see.
Laurel is stunned for a long moment. She looks around desperately. She cries out, knowing Grodrrns have superior hearing, “Someone help! HELLLLLLP! Please! ANYONE!” She screams as loudly as she can. Her only hope now is that someone hears. She’s running out of time.
Dzhonn lifts the ship off of the deck with a whirr of the engines. This is it. It has to be. Someone will shut down the ship remotely, or jump onboard the outside. It can’t end like this.
He turns the ship towards the hangar exit. So, this must be it. The doors will snap closed.
He accelerates out into the void of space.
It dawns on Laurel. What if Dzhonn’s device really does work as she expects? What if it really does make someone cease to exist in everyone else’s minds?
That means…
Dzhonn aligns, and he activates the jump drive. The visual monitors all turn black.
Laurel can only stare at the lifeless screens. Her hope has, all at once, fizzled out.
The trip is silent. Dzhonn says nothing to Laurel. He doesn’t taunt her. He doesn’t try to rationalize. He doesn’t elaborate his plan. He simply rests in the pilot’s seat.
Laurel doesn’t say anything either. Fear is gripping her, and she feels like it’s still at that surreal time of the situation where, if, just maybe, she doesn’t acknowledge it, it won’t be real. If she says nothing, reality can’t rush back in.
It doesn’t go away, though, either. Ultimately, she knows. She’s just letting the silence help her deny reality. But, it can only be denied for so long.
She has no idea how long the jump was. She only knows it is over when they drop out of the bubble and the virtual screens reboot.
Again, Laurel knows almost nothing. But, she recognizes the shapes of asteroids forming a belt on screen. And, amidst that belt are several large-looking blue outlines. And, those blue outlines look nothing like the Grodrrn ships she’s seen so far.
It also takes a moment for Laurel to remember that blue and red are the opposite for Grodrrns as humans, meaning blue is the signal for enemy ships.
Laurel can only watch helplessly. She has no idea why Dzhonn flew to a location with presumably enemy ships. But, he seems calm, and the enemies haven’t opened fire yet.
Just as Dzhonn is preparing to fly, he glances right. He double-takes, and in an instant reaction, he guns the throttle and pulls the ship up hard, causing immense weight to press down on Laurel. The screens chirp twice.
Dzhonn snarls as he glares at the object on screen.
A red object.
The Grodrrn craft on screen is clearly not part of Dzhonn’s plans.
Though irritated, Dzhonn stays in control, instantly flowing into a flight away from the newcomer as much as possible while making headway toward the enemy fleet.
Dzhonn’s monitors show virtually 360 degrees of the ship in every direction, which can be disorienting to look at. But, Laurel can see the red ship in the rear. The screens flash and chirp while Dzhonn whips the shuttle in zig-zags. Each chirp seems to indicate the other shuttle firing at them.
Dzhonn pilots expertly, dodging shots as they race for the asteroid belt. Once there, he unleashes further daring maneuvers to line up his own guns with the newcomer.
The shuttle rumbles as it fires, shrieking with each individual shot that races off into silent oblivion towards the other ship. The other pilot is clearly skilled as well, deftly rolling and weaving through gaps in the asteroids while avoiding fire.
One of the other shuttle’s shots hit Dzhonn’s shuttle. It doesn’t cause any explosions or shakes. It simply causes the lights to flicker.
A tingle crawls up Laurel’s spine. Whoever it is knows. They know she’s alive. They know she’s onboard. She wasn’t forgotten.
The two Grodrrn pilots dart around asteroids, trading shots that miss. Dzhonn growls, once more surprisingly in English, “Motherless, egg-sucking parasite.” Something seems very wrong about Dzhonn. But, Laurel is too focused on silently rooting for her prospective rescuer. She’s not a fan of being a damsel in distress, but she’s truly grateful to whoever that other pilot is. It never even dawns on her what could come of that pilot’s motivations for pursuing them.
Dzhonn muses, “Ah, here’s something.” He weaves into a near-literal hailstorm of oncoming fighter craft that seemingly flow around his shuttle, targeting the other.
The other is not easily taken down though. It is forced to break off pursuit, but it’s immediately clear that the blue-marked pilots are not anywhere close to the caliber of these two Grodrrn pilots.
Just as Dzhonn is settling into his flight towards the enemy battleships or carriers, the lights flicker again, and the engines sputter this time. The red craft darts by, followed by a swarm of blue.
“Just give up…” groans Dzhonn. “You won’t escape this time, even if you win.” His screens reboot to full color as he flies.
Dzhonn banks into evasive maneuvers again. It delays his rendezvous with his contacts, but he can’t risk losing power to the newcomer’s shots.
The newcomer is relentless, though. Even dodging and fighting off the enemy swarm, he is managing strafing runs on Dzhonn.
The sudden moves sway the pregnant woman all over her seat. Her nausea is out of control, but she keeps it internalized for now. She tries to focus on her rescuer.
Then, the worst happens. Just as he’s swooping around a big asteroid to dodge enemy fighters, Dzhonn fires with a triumphant roar. Blue-green metal shrapnel explodes from the impact, and nothing but debris floats in the void of space.
Once more, the small ember of hope flickers out. Dzhonn sighs as he relaxes in his seat. He grunts out, “Finally. Fricking idiot.” Laurel watches the shard of metal from her failed rescuer’s ship. The enemy fighters swarm around them, but they idly let Dzhonn fly undisturbed. He calmly pilots towards one of the big ships.
As they get closer, he passes a humongous asteroid with a tunnel deep within. It looks like a bullet passed through with how relatively straight the hole goes.
Everything powers down. The ship goes completely dark with only static-sounding puffs hitting the hull. Dzhonn is startled, cursing instantly.
He is just standing up from his seat to do something when the shuttle lurches violently from a thunderous impact. The side of the shuttle is bowed in, and Laurel thinks she can hear air hissing now. Dzhonn is thrown to the deck, and he doesn’t move for some time.
Laurel hopes he’s dead. But, she checks herself for injuries. She seems miraculously okay. The hairs raise up on her neck, even as she tries to calm herself. It’s a static tingle that tickles her skin and straightens her hair outwards.
And then, it’s a long, suspenseful wait.
***
Niolajt Jardzen Mrff watches his surviving screens. Both ships, his and Dzhonn’s, are being towed out of the asteroid by the salvage team. Neither shuttle is flyable for the time being, as Murf’s maneuver crippled them both.
But, he successfully pushed Dzhonn’s shuttle into the big asteroid’s hole, shielding them from Zarakyssn interdiction –barely-. The jump bubble captured a sizeable portion of the asteroid interior and brought it with them. Much more, and the jump bubble would have been exposed to the interdiction weapons. Instead, Mrff hollowed out a massive asteroid.
What he did was extremely dangerous in at least several ways. Obviously, the collision could have destroyed both shuttles and killed everyone onboard. Less obviously, objects keep their momentum when captured in a jump bubble. If it were smaller asteroids, they could have drifted into either ship, destroying them or pushing them out of the bubble into instant obliteration. Likewise, this asteroid could have simply carried both shuttles into annihilation.
Fortunately, they made it back to the battleship. But, they will need to evacuate quickly. Zarakyssns are not shy about scanning their territory, and they know Fievegal ships are involved now. With in-fighting occurring, no less. If Zarakyssns get excited, this would certainly be one of those times.
Additionally, Mrff is lucky Khla trusts him as much as he does. Even in the strange state of events as they were, Khla allowed Mrff to chase his phantom and, because he caught the ship, no disappearing act Dzhonn tries to pull can hide him from the shuttle’s flight log, which is the first thing the salvage team downloads.
Mrff just hopes Laurel is okay. After all this headache, she better be, with a healthy child still growing inside her. He simply waits.
His orders –being upheld by Khla- are to quarantine Dzhonn’s shuttle with a full guard. Mrff has heard rumors that build his suspicions, but he hopes it won’t go that far.
Still, he readies his mind with a quiet meditation. A serenity from deep within settles upon him. He will do what he can. Any more is not his doing.
He can hear in his meditation that the hull is being cut open to his ship.
So far, no wisdom.
He can hear metal groan.
Still nothing.
Just as boots are approaching to disturb him; The past is a shield.
Mrff opens his eyes. This one, he understands immediately. He quickly climbs to his feet, storming out of his shuttle.
The salvage crews are just cutting the other shuttle open. Khla approaches, saying quietly, “{If this Dzhonn IS onboard, Murf, how could this happen?}”
Mrff replies, “{I only have rumors, Yarjen. Forgive me.}”
The section is pulled away, and the salvage team carries it quickly to the side.
The lead soldier announces, “{Come out quietly! Your ship is surrounded!}”
Mrff waits patiently. He watches the hole for his friend, Vrrd’kllk, and his pet Drrnycz, Mykmyk. Vrrd’kllk saved Mrff’s life many cycles ago, and he’s never had the chance to repay it.
There! Mrff easily recognizes…
The Grodrrn shocktroopers around Mrff seem confused, lost even. Something just happened. He looks at Khla. Khla’s gaze is empty and distant, like his mind is off.
A Grodrrn is walking away from a destroyed shuttle in the hangar with a pregnant human female. He has her mouth covered as he walks.
How, he doesn’t know. Why, he doesn’t know. But, the last thing Mrff does remember is his meditation. The past is a shield. He instantly recalls the goal of his plan. It must’ve worked, but he has to wonder who he chose.
No matter. Mrff shakes his head clear and draws his sidearm. He approaches his first prospective bondmate, Khczii, and her mynn, Braaczin. Mrff was a young Helmdraavv recruit when he met them, and they were very close. But, he ultimately met his true bondmate shortly after, and he and Khczii were better friends. He’ll never forget her kindness, though.
Mrff aims the sidearm. He wishes that last sentiment were truly true. But, he needs to feel it. Or, it won’t work. He could pick a thousand expendable names, but only a handful will protect him.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Mrff says sternly, “{Let her go, now.}”
Braaczin halts. It’s who he is. Mrff believes it. He must believe it. Khczii is equally surprised. He lets his residual compassion for her return. Braaczin retrieves something from his belt. He says coldly, “How are you so tenacious?” Human? He’s speaking…
Mrff is standing in the hangar. He looks around. Shocktroopers are talking. Khla is inspecting a destroyed shuttle.
Mrff’s heart feels a little cold, perhaps empty. But, he shakes it off. A traitor is in their midst. The past is a shield.
The Niolajt Jardzen instantly recalls his planned strategy. He has no way of knowing how many times he’s already shielded himself, but he digs deep for the next pair of friends close to him whom he can afford to let go. He’ll get no answers while this traitor is alive, clearly. It’s too risky with whatever is causing this. If Mrff slips up, he loses everything about this traitor.
Mrff spots his flight instructor, retired Niolajt Jardzen Hyllk’aanz, carrying… some sort of creature? No, it’s an albino child, obviously, named… Glyggynn. Hyllk’aanz is lowering the boarding ramp of the last operational shuttle.
Mrff sprints across the hangar, gripping his sidearm firmly. Hyllk’aanz spots him. Hyllk’aanz taught Mrff the most valuable lesson he ever learned; to aspire to die like a master. Mrff never once beat Hyllk’aanz in a dogfight.
Hyllk’aanz growls in a strange language, “What the hell!?” He reaches for something on his belt.
Mrff truly respects Hyllk’aanz. The master pilot could do anything, and Mrff was lost for a long time after he heard.
He squeezes the trigger multiple times as quickly as he can…
Niolajt Jardzen Mrff is standing in the hangar looking at a shuttle. Shocktroopers are all around him shouting. Laying next to the shuttle is a Grodrrn in Helmdraavv uniform, shot dead with multiple hits. Mrff is holding his sidearm. And, a small creature is clutching his waist, sobbing. He has no idea what this creature is.
He does know her name is Laurel, though.
And, he knows the Grodrrn on the ground is named Dzhonn, and he was a traitor. The past is a shield.
Mrff knows instantly what he was doing, and he knows pretty well why he felt he had to do it. He has no way of knowing who he chose from his past, who they were to him, or why. He only knows what he planned, and anyone he chose would likely understand his sacrifice. After all, he won’t need to recognize them anymore. They had to be important to him, or it might not have protected him. But clearly, they don’t need to be alive, as he intended.
He’s not relieved to have forgotten those he cared about and lost, but he knows they would understand. If there is a beyond, he hopes they earn glory and peace having helped the living even in death.
Mrff drops his weapon. Khla steps forward, saying calmly, “{Stand down. This is Murf we’re dealing with. We all know well enough to know something’s going on. For instance, does anyone know that Grodrrn?}”
Laurel says desperately with mucus choking her nose, “H-His name’s J-Jon o-or Zjonn, a-and h-he tried to kidnap me and t-take me to enemy ships!”
Surprised, Khla states, “{A human? A pregnant human? What’s…}”
She whines, “I don’t speak Grodrrn yet! Please, listen! Zjonn has a device that seems to erase memories! B-But only Grodurns! It’s that thing in his hand.”
Khla asks Mrff, “{Is this how you would tell it, Niolayt Yarjen?}”
Mrff nods, “{Flight logs should confirm where those two shuttles have been and who flew them. And, as always, this is my inexperienced hypothesis, but I believe the device in question erases individuals, based on recognition, from one’s memories.}”
Khla nods. One of the shocktroopers carefully brings the device for inspection, and the Baskylla Jardzen turns it over in his hand to look it over intently. Mrff can feel Laurel flinch when Khla crushes the device in his hand with blinding suddenness. A couple of the inferior officers and shocktroopers flinch in surprise as well. A Nordzen even remarks, astonished, “{Baskylla Yarjen!? How will we know how it works!?}”
Khla hands the thoroughly destroyed device back to the trooper who gave it to him. He replies calmly, “{By the grace of the Saurmynnyka, that was the only one of its kind. Be it not, may we all possess Murf’s wisdom and fortitude to overcome.}”
“{Perhaps defenses could have been…}”
“{That device was too risky to leave intact. Not with things the way they are.}”
A voice draws their attention; “{He’s still breathing!}” They all look at where Dzhonn fell. A shocktrooper is checking vitals.
Khla looks at Mrff. The Niolajt Jardzen says nothing. He’s not sure what to say. If his plan had gone any differently, he wouldn’t even know he shot Dzhonn, let alone if he intended to incapacitate or kill.
Dzhonn coughs. He groans out, “Jeen Jynnyk dohsh kyrrffynn’lah…” Surprised, the Grodrrns all look at each other. Khla asks, “{He’s a colonist?}”
Mrff shakes his head. “{No. He doesn’t have a colonial accent OR dialect. That was something else.}”
Laurel asks, “What is it? What’d he say?”
Khla looks at her, and then Mrff. He then replies to her, “We donn nau, hoomin. Seems leek deeforent longweej. {We don’t know, human. Seems like different language.}”
The shocktrooper asks in Grodrrn, “{Do you understand us?}” Dzhonn stares up at him blankly. He asks something again in his strange language, but it’s unintelligible. It has all of the pronunciations of the Grodrrn language. But, the words are alien, and what few words do seem to be are in no sensible structure of Grodrrn speech.
Laurel asks accusingly, “What about human? Do you speak human?”
The sentence Dzhonn utters next seems to almost make sense, “{That what are creat-ster?}” Seems to be what he’s saying or asking. Laurel asks, “What’d he say?”
Mrff replies, “Sond leek… He osk whut yuu arr. {Sound(ed) like… He ask what you are.}”
Dzhonn coughs again, clutching his injures. He grumbles something else, but it’s unintelligible. One of the Nordzens asks, “{Should we take him into custody, Yarjen?}”
Khla nods, “{Yes. His device didn’t do this to him.}”
“{As you…}” before the Nordzen can even finish nor the shocktroopers move in closer, Dzhonn starts screaming. His body tenses and his back arches. The wail leaving his body startles everyone, even Mrff. No Grodrrn has ever heard the terrible, horrifying noise leaving Dzhonn’s throat. It is something one would NEVER be able to forget. Hearing it is frightening, and those closest to Dzhonn back away as he flops and screams on the floor.
The Grodrrn officers glance at each other in desperate need of guidance. One of the youngest officers asks pleadingly, “{What do we do!?}”
Khla and Mrff share a glance. It sounds like Dzhonn’s actual living soul, his spirit, his lifeforce, or something is trying to rip its way out of his body in a way that’s soul-twistingly painful to observe, let alone what he must be feeling. No one, not even traitors, deserve this.
Khla and Mrff both draw their sidearms and aim at him. But, before they can fire, Dzhonn tenses one last time, before his body glows light blue. A moment later, the glow ceases, and his body is silent and ashen, before it dissolves into a whispy pile of dust.
All of the color has drained from the scales –or skin- of every observer. When words can finally be uttered, it is Khla who says with a suddenly dry throat, “{G-Get medical set up… I want everyone here quarantined… A-And get hazops down here to clean up…}”
The Nordzen responsible for relaying Khla’s orders gags, managing to choke out, “{Y-yes Yarjen…}”
Khla swallows hard, adding hoarsely, “{Shocktroopers, turn over all r-recordings… We need to find out what he said… Someone must know his language…}”
One of the shocktroopers, who was swaying already, collapses. Others scramble away from him in a panic, but Mrff booms, “{Calm down! That was shock. No one leaves this area. If you try to, I’ll gun you down. Understood?}” Everyone nods in agreement.
Laurel presses her forehead to Mrff’s abdomen, crying softly, “I… I want to go back to your room… p-please? I… I can’t deal with this…”
Mrff replies, “We go to kwarteen. Sorry. {We go to quarantine. Sorry.}”
“I… I can’t… This is too much stress…”
Khla says softly, “{Take her. I don’t know why, but I feel the need to protect her. I suspect I knew her well before.}”
Mrff nods. “{You did. She is carrying a child to carry the Saurmynnyka.}”
Khla chuckles warmly, “{By her grace… I suspect you’re right. Go. Quarantine where we keep her.}”
“{My quarters, Yarjen.}”
Khla nods. Mrff escorts the human woman back, and she instantly lays down to sleep. Before she does fall asleep, she chokes out softly, “Th-thank you… F-For saving me, Yarjen Murf…”
He replies plainly, “My dutih. Notheeng more. {My duty. Nothing more.}” She needs not know what it cost him. It was his choice, and his burden to bear.
She does ask though, “How… Did you do that though? You didn’t… forget us…?”
Mrff thinks a moment. He replies plainly, “Mihnd. Took chonce. Won. {Mind. Took chance. Won.}”
“Thank you again…” Laurel’s voice is soft and meek. Mrff nods, settling into his chair to await the hazardous operations and medical teams to tend to them. It could be a while.
***
Hancock follows Dr. Lopez. He’s carrying the helmet and suit built for the Cave Queen. While Lopez herself didn’t have much input on it, she used it as an excuse to get away from Mr. Right, who was fairly innocently just being playful and attentive to her, which makes the shy young woman uncomfortable. Mr. Right has lots of scientists at his disposal, but he insistently goes to Lopez for everything.
The other science team members are quietly grateful when Lopez vanishes. She’s well liked herself because, in spite of often being the smartest person in any room, she’s extremely humble about her intelligence, answering questions to the best of her ability with no undertones of superiority. But, her presence means Mr. Right will likely show up. His own intelligence isn’t particularly lacking, but he prides himself on his namesake, which becomes riskier when his backup knowledge bank is nowhere to be found. Rather than risk being asked a question he can’t answer, Mr. Right will make use of himself in the manufacturing areas, where he plans jobs and encourages the workers. What Mr. Right lacks in humility, he makes up for in his ability to keep the big picture in focus, which is why no one –including Captain Long- has strangled him yet.
Lopez, of course, has very little intent to approach the Queen or even enter her chambers. She has her laptop handy if she needs to adjust the automatic polarization parameters on the helmet, but she intends, as usual, to communicate via Hancock.
He could care less. It may not be what he envisioned when he joined the marines, but his tasks couldn’t be more specific or unique. And, testing her inventions is an adventure where all of humanity ISN’T wiped out if it fails. It’s just trying something new. He doesn’t see himself filling Chief Grey’s shoes; a grizzled soldier weathered by years of real combat. He’s not sure what he sees, but he doesn’t have the constitution Grey does. Grey can handle anything, it seems like. Faces down an invincible living tank; kills it. Sees a subordinate floating helplessly away; jumps. Loses use of an eye, doesn’t bat the other. Hancock still wakes up in a cold sweat at night over Earth, and Kenzie manages to comfort him.
It’s been about a week since the protests, and the marines are quietly looking for Cynthia Brock. She's the primary threat from within, if she is allowed to rally more dissidents. But, those are military concerns for the moment.
They reach the light lock separating normal hallway from the Queen’s chamber. Lopez turns to Hancock and asks, “What’s she like?”
Surprised, Hancock replies, “Who? The Queen?”
Lopez nods. Hancock knows trying to convince the scientist to simply step inside and find out won’t work. While everyone who knows about the Queen has a pretty good idea of what her ability is when touching someone, no one quite has a grasp on how it works. Presumably, it can work on any sentient species, and quite possibly non-sentient animals. But, this implies an evolutionary level of adaptation to unknowable brain structures to still force a communication. This factor leads many to feel that it’s more likely the blind luck making the Queen, Grodrrns, and humans so similar in the grand scheme of universal variables is the reason it works on humans, and thus, likely Grodrrns, but it wouldn’t work on a being that doesn’t have a brain the way the known beings do. This cumulative unknown, combined with Lopez’s social fears anyway, are why she likely won’t enter.
Regardless, Hancock replies warmly, “She’s surprisingly gentle, given her size. And soft. I think she’s also a lot smarter than she lets on.”
“Why do you say that?” asks Lopez quietly.
“She didn’t like the noise coming out of the air conditioner for her space. The ticket got put in, but no one knows who fixed it. The Queen is playing dumb.”
A little more cautious, Lopez asks, “Why would she hide it if it’s her?”
“There are lots of mundane reasons that I think. She might be scared the HVAC guys would be offended –she worries about offending people-, she doesn’t want anyone to think she’s talented and ask for help on something she can’t handle, she did it in her sleep… Maybe she didn’t do it. If you met her, you’d realize why it’s difficult to believe she has any shady intent.”
“Okay,” replies Lopez plainly. She presses the buzzer on the door as she hugs her laptop to her chest. Stunned, Hancock asks, “Wait, just like that? YOU want to meet her?”
Lopez nods, asking, “Why? Sh-should I not?”
Hancock replies cautiously, “You wouldn’t normally. I thought you were afraid of our non-human passengers.”
Lopez quietly replies, “No… the Grodurns scare me… The big one especially…” Hancock knows she’s talking about Dzor. No one’s checked for certain, but it’s pretty widely believed that Dzor is the largest Grodrrn onboard by almost 80 pounds, and two full inches in height. The next largest was a shocktrooper. And, Khla, being the youngest, is the smallest, at a whopping 285 pounds and six feet and nine inches tall.
The Cave Queen, volume-wise, looks much bigger than even Dzor. Her long tentacles can support her like crab legs, and standing as tall as possible with her ‘legs’ almost straight, she can stand up to twenty feet or more. She usually squats like a crab or spider, though, which gives her stupendous agility and keeps her body off of the ground, a necessity on her world. This spreads out her profile considerably, actually serving to make her appear larger. As for her torso and head she is about the size of an extremely large human, but with a slender figure –when she’s not carrying 100+ eggs-. Now, it’s estimated that she’s at about 100 eggs, which has caused her abdomen to swell to about the size of a yoga ball.
Her abdomen being the purpose of the suit Hancock is carrying. It’s closer to a romper or an apron, because the Queen’s many limbs make it difficult to form a useful outerwear, but they wanted to ensure to protect her eggs from light. It’s expected, though unknown at the moment, that the Queen is almost transparent, having almost never been exposed to any light. With that said, though, the biologists are pretty sure her limbs and body won’t be adversely affected by exposure to the ship’s L.E.D. lights, and the apron is needed only to protect the embryos inside her. But, it’s also why they’ll be testing it in the Queen’s quarters, where they can slowly increase the light inside.
Lopez adds softly, “My… favorite animal on earth was the octopus… I… They’re one of the smartest animals ever, and they can problem solve and squeeze their bodies through tiny holes… and they’re super strong…”
Hancock is astonished with how much she just said. He’s also surprised at such an innocent reason to want to meet the Queen herself. Though, maybe the Queen resonates with Lopez on some level; unlike anyone else in existence, solitary and quiet, not wanting to be alone, but accustomed to solitude. Perhaps the two are kindred spirits.
Petty Officer Rena or Mina Coulson’s voice answers on the intercom finally, “Who is it?”
Hancock replies, “Ensign Hancock and Doctor Lopez.”
“Gotcha. Come on in, Sir.”
Hancock waits while Lopez opens the door by swinging the dogging handle. It's similar to an Earth navy ship, but much more elegant looking. Most people don’t deal with them much because a lot of the airtight doors are always open, and they have robust actuators to jam them closed quickly if the space on either side is ruptured. The doors themselves actually slide into place rather than swing, to ensure the actuator can get it closed against vacuum, which would be much more difficult on a swing door.
Once both are inside the darkness of the light lock, Lopez dogs the door closed and leads to the inner door. She knocks, per protocol, to alert the Queen that the door is opening, in case anything with lights was forgotten.
The two walk carefully into the room. Lopez isn’t wearing a helmet, and she probably didn’t realize how truly dark the Queen’s chamber is. There is ‘light’ present from the stars being allowed in, but they’re imperceptible to the naked eye. The Queen, however, can see anything and everything in the room as clear as a human can see in day, maybe even better.
Hancock says gently, “Coulson? We’re inside. Door’s closed.”
Coulson replies, “We’re over at the art station.”
That explains why they’re not immediately visible to him. There’s a stack of crates with planters full of the Queen’s plants that block a hefty corner of the large space. The two make their way over, with Lopez holding Hancock’s forearm for guidance. Once there, the young officer can see the easel the Queen is drawing on using either a piece of charcoal or a large pencil. In either case, the contrast works to make the image visible to his nightvision.
Hancock went to an art museum once back on Earth. He saw abstract art, impressionism, realism, paint splatters… many forms of art he can barely describe. And yet, there is something strangely breathtaking about the scene the Cave Queen drew with only one color. It’s difficult to describe, but it explains quite possibly how the Queen sees the world.
There is very little white on her drawing. But, her delicacy for achieving shades , coupled with her precise line work, all topped with a careful balance of inverse shading of specific areas and strategically planned white spots, have come together to form an image stunningly placed between an almost child-like cartoon and photographic realism. It’s not quite like an Earth manga or anime, which is in that similar zone of realistic cartoons. Her picture captures the realistic aspects of the objects in the image, but the expressive detail of light, bands of what appear to be vapors or fog, and otherwise things no one would notice or even be able to see reach a fantasy-like look.
The objects in the image appear to be structures of some kind, presumably built by her planet’s now-extinct surface dwellers.
***