7

An undefined haziness. A lingering sensation of powerless existence. The frigid caresses of metallic nature. The jumbled awareness of an unknown presence. How long it had been, James couldn't say for sure, his mind unfocused on higher thought. All he could think about is rest.

As recollections of his time on the Wanderer slowly sprang forth in his exhausted mind, he forced his tired eyes open to take in his surroundings. Immediately, he was assaulted by the bright lights on the interior of the same capsule he had entered before. Gritting his teeth to endure the discomfort the lights were inflicting, James quickly tried to get on his foot, realizing now that he had been lying on the floor the whole time.

As more memories started to flood his thoughts, a chilled horror could be seen on James's face, at the forceful realization that he stood on the very same metallic surface that had subjugated him so easily, violating his desire to escape its grasp.

Tumbling in his haste, James made his way to the door of the capsule which, just like it had done before, responded to his touch. It opened with a slow and gentle animation that, to James, seemed almost mocking in the face of his anxiety. As soon as it was open wide enough for James to pass, James stumbled out of the capsule in a rush, and walked as best as he could, trying desperately to put some distance between himself and the infernal machine.

As he did, his legs swiftly gave in to the pressure his uncoordinated body exerted on them, and he fell to his knees, oblivious to his environment. If something gets me, I deserve it at this point. Stupid…-was one of James thoughts on the sea of his incoherent mind. He took some deep breaths to calm himself, although the quality of the air that permeated the Wanderer made it seem like he was trying to breathe water, the high humidity offensive to his lungs.

Chocking involuntarily, he once again cursed his recklessness, regretting having left the helmet at the ship…the ship? Did he really leave the helmet at the ship? That was unlike him, despite his brazenness. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, instantaneously regretting it as the pounding headache returned with a vengeance.

He kneeled there quietly and unmoving, trying to grasp his mind back to reality. No, he couldn't have left the helmet behind, outside there is no air, no plants, no nothing…nothing but the metal. He forced the nauseous sensation that threatened to appear at the thought that effectively, he was surrounded by the blasted metal, as the whole planet itself seemed to be composed of it. More calming breaths ensued. But try as he might, he simply could not recall what had happened to his helmet.

He had somehow stumbled on the realization that he had lost it somewhere inside the Wanderer, which at this point, he considered progress of his mental capabilities. Unsure, but feeling slightly more collected, James rubbed his hands on his face, feeling the warmth of his hands on his skin…and a warm liquid?

He slowly opened his eyes and looked upon both his hands, and was greeted with the sight of blood on his right hand, all the way to his wrist. Taken aback by the angry red color on his hand, he frantically started to try to wipe it off his face and hand, an inexplicable disgust washing over him. After a few moments of struggle, the hand was almost clean, as was his face, he assumed.

Inspecting his hand more closely he saw a deep, clean cut on the palm of his non-dominant hand. As if…he had done that himself. He riffled through his belt and indeed, there was his knife. He could have done it. Likely had…but why?

Confusion started swirling in his pounding head, as if a veil of opaque material had been draped over his memories of the Wanderer, the contours still visible, but impossible to grasp the fine details without lifting it. Deciding that continuing this charade without proper rest was pointless, James looked up and around him, expecting to be in the same room as before.To say it looked similar was an understatement…everything looked the same on the Wanderer.

Yet, for some reason, it didn't quite look the same, even if his recollection of the room was still a bit hazy. The orb lamps encrusted in the wall shone in a warm orange color, and the room was not hexagonal. There were only two corridors, of which he could see the end, contrary to the previous room. Despite the capsule's perceived aggressive behavior, it had transported him elsewhere. Not bad.

James felt his mood lift at the thought, renewed hope and vigor at the prospect of exploring new areas of the Wanderer. He stood up, this time a little more measured in his movements, and assessed his body functions. Besides the headache and the wounded hand, everything seemed alright. No broken bones, no sprained ankles. Best case scenario, really. And the headache would fix itself with some sleep, anyways.

With a determined but cautious look on his face, James started to head towards the closest corridor at an unworried yet firm pace. As he was about to head out, he stopped on his tracks, quickly looking back at the room. Nothing. Nothing that he didn't expect anyway.

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The pods were still there, mocking and challenging James with their very existence. Yet, he had felt something like…like a tug, a pull of an invisible string, that had forced him to double-check. As if a presence had briefly entered the room, had been perceived by his mind alone, since there was no indication of another being on the planet.

Still, just the thought prompt James's legs to move at a higher pace than they probably should, hurriedly carrying him through the first corridor he had gazed upon in a stumbling motion. Not too many steps later, the corridor opened up to a grand and spacious area. It was impossible to perceive the ceiling from where James stood, and it stretched beyond what his human vision could account for.

Surprise knocked the air out of James's lungs, for it was the first time he was accessing the city portion of the Wanderer, and a sense of surrealism washed over him. Contained within this space, were a number of buildings, wildly different from anything humans or other species he knew had ever built.Once again, the metal was the main building material, but could he really call it building?

From what he could see, it seemed almost like the metal had grown into the geometric shapes he saw, as an odd and unnatural organic feel disturbed the perfection of the geometry, making it not quite right. Also, the builds were interconnected and intertwined in a way that made them appear as a mesh of sorts, instead of individually defined structures, reinforcing the sensation that they had sprung fourth as fruit of growth, not been constructed by capable hands.

James willed himself to move forward, mesmerized and enthralled by the surrounding environment. Reaching what seemed to be entrance of the building closest to him, James observed as the metal surface receded at his closeness, snaking out of the way and allowing entry into its shadowed interior. Hesitating briefly at the doorway, James braved onwards after turning the lights of his suit on.

Expecting to be able to tell the function of the structure by its interior, James was thrown off by the almost emptiness of the rooms. As he navigated around the building, the only indication that it once had been occupied and served a purpose were the presence of what could be some sort of equipment carved into the walls of several rooms.

James forced his feet to walk towards one of such walls, eyes trained and wary. He examined the wall cautiously, and reached the conclusion that the indentations were quite similar to the ones on the transporter capsule he had used earlier, and almost seemed to have the shape of a control panel. Cursing under his breath once again, James reluctantly placed his unwounded hand onto the surface, which quickly responded.

Brief seconds after his warm touch grazed the surface of the cold metal, light spilled from orbs on the walls, pulsing slightly like the ones he had encountered on the hexagonal room. As the light permeated the room, James felt the chilled surface in contact with his hand expand, and looking down into his hand, his horrified eyes traced the metallic motion that was climbing up his arm.

Startled, James removed his hand from the panel and in a panicked state tried to shake off the metal. His efforts were to no avail, as it had quickly evaded his frantic movements and made its way to the nape of his neck, where James felt its presence lodge.

Then, thin and spindling tendrils of dark grey metal reached towards his face from the back of his head, covering his eyes in a suffocating embrace. Blinded, James desperately struggled to remove the metallic mask that had forced itself into his face, falling down to his knees while grabbing his face. The more effort he put into fighting the metal, the stronger the bind seemed to become, until…all of a sudden the metal stopped moving.

James could feel its encompassing presence on his face, but it no longer shifted and snaked around as before. Trying to take deep breaths to calm himself, James willed himself to open his eyes. Fully expecting to be met with absolute darkness, he was startled by the changes that had occurred in his surroundings.

No longer where the rooms vacant and void of life. Instead, before his eyes were ghostly examples of what could only be house appliances and furniture. Alien to his human nature, but undoubtedly they had to be. Unconsciously, James's fingers traced the surface of his face and met the harsh and cold surface of the metallic mask that enveloped it, and he was struck by the realization that the transformation of the room could only be attributed to the mask that now lingered in his brow.

Perplexed, James slowly rose to his feet, looking around. Whenever his gaze touched, different structures appeared, seemingly unrealized in their shape, as if they represented a schematic of form. As he moved about, more and more structures revealed themselves, and James wished the cameras on his suit could capture the sight his eyes now traced and explored.

His previous tiredness and heavy headache had almost been forgotten entirely at the sudden overwhelming sensation of terror that had now been substituted with a feeling of surprised elation. However, as soon as his eyes caressed the frame of what might very well be the alien ideal of a bed, weariness heavier that the world itself threatened to crush James where he stood.

Involuntarily, his feet directed him towards the vision of comfort, as his hand longingly stretched towards it. Without knowing, he knew. He understood what needed to happen. No later than a half breath afterwards, James was on his knees before the ghostly bed frame, and his hand fully contacted with the metallic ground. And no later than a full breath afterwards, the metallic ground started to shim and shake, and contort and twist right before his eyes, transforming the translucent schematic into a solid reality.

Different textures and a noticeable variation of softness could be seen on the bed, despite being constituted from the omnipresent metal that seemed to pursue and haunt James everywhere he went on the Wanderer.

No later than three breaths afterwards, James's sprawling figure laid on said bed frame, utterly oblivious to the sentient presence that observed every rise and fall of his sleeping human chest.