CHAPTER 1 - THE EMPRESS AND THE FOOL
Arizona, circa 4000 BC.
"Destroyed, I ordered," commanded the towering, stern, pink-clad figure seated within the palanquin, while the Nephrite squadron leader, standing to attention at as respectful a distance as she dared from its threshold, flinched back just a little further. "Not 'guarded,' not 'sealed,' but destroyed. I want every trace of this facility and its contents erased from the face of this planet. Was that command in any sense unclear, Nephrite, that I find myself repeating it so soon?"
"N- … no, My Diamond," stammered the soldier, suppressing her panic much less well than her sense of injustice, which remained unspoken but glaring. That I should be taking the blame for this … I'd be more than happy to bomb that accursed place into atoms and shoot the atoms into warp space, if it were my choice, but when is it ever? "Your orders were very clear … but it was my understanding that the Authority wanted a detailed enquiry into Zultanite's research before taking any … irreversible action," she explained, carefully avoiding the word 'insubordinate.' "Blue Diamond herself has expressed great interest in-"
"This is not Blue Diamond's colony!" raged Pink, rising to her feet and glaring down upon her quivering minion with laser intensity. Her anger was such that even the normally impassive Pearl servant, stationed at the foot of her throne, backed up against the ornately latticed wall of the palanquin in great anxiety. "This is my colony, and I am the final authority here, and the only one that need concern …" Suddenly conscious of her outburst, though, Pink Diamond paused, lowered herself back onto her throne, and softened her tone. "I will take full responsibility. If Blue Diamond does not like it, by all means refer her to me, but I want that pavilion obliterated by sundown … and I want Zultanite brought before me. Where is she?"
"Err … last seen at the Galaxy Warp, My Diamond … but current whereabouts unknown," added the soldier, very uncomfortably. "She is, of course, notoriously elusive, and if she is at all aware of how much she seems to have fallen out of your favour, it will be no simple matter-"
"Fewer excuses, more action, Nephrite. Bring her to me, willingly if possible, bubbled if not, but do so without delay, or at least no more delay than is necessary to carry out your orders here. That operation takes precedence above all. See to it at once."
On this very final note, the door of the palanquin closed, and the mobile tower rose up on its four pointed crystalline struts and scuttled off in the direction of the warp pad like some massive, ill-proportioned pink insect. The Nephrite gave a short sigh of relief before turning back to face the Pavilion of Mercy. Although it was discreetly located deep within the red stone canyon, the sun was high in the sky and reflected brightly off the smoothly finished jadeite walls of its central dome, and caused the multifaceted surfaces of its crystal spires to glitter dazzlingly. Like all Gem architecture, it was beautiful and intricate, but the only emotions it evoked in the soldier were fear and loathing, and in spite of her contradictory orders she raised her communicator to her mouth and carried out Pink Diamond's command without hesitation or regret:
"Nephrite Facet-413 Cabochon-12 to squadron. Previous orders rescinded. All dropships to converge on sector one … Maximum destruction. I want nothing left of it. Please acknowledge."
The pilots were quick to signal their understanding, and very soon the flotilla of disc-shaped stone warships that had previously been circling the area peacefully began to close in upon the valley in perfect formation, although the sense of balletic elegance was rather lost as they hammered the valley floor with bombs and lasers, and the shining pavilion erupted in a chaos of smoke, rubble, and crystal shards. Nephrite observed the devastation with grim satisfaction. Oh, there's going to be hell to pay, of course, but at least we can say with certainty that the galaxy just became a slightly less evil place.
Decepticon seabase, 1986.
Okay … this could hardly be less encouraging.
Gail Adler, 22, late of Central City Institute of Technology, contemplated her surroundings with all due despair, which was a lot. Low, cold fluorescent lighting glinted off harsh gunmetal grey surfaces, which were occasionally enlivened by the malicious, empty-eyed stare of the purple Decepticon sigil. Ominous silence currently reigned, other than the continual creaking and straining of metal bulkheads under the intense pressure of the deep sea water. The still, stale air of the crippled space cruiser was even colder than the lighting, and her neoprene wetsuit did little enough to counteract it, but she resisted the urge to wrap her arms around herself. God knows, I look pathetic and vulnerable enough as it is.
Her early hopes of a smooth operation had been quickly ruined. Although a little discreet hacking of the US Coast Guard's Ethernet had given her an accurate bearing on the Decepticon crash site, it had also warned her that the nearby shoreline was heavily patrolled for public protection, so she had been forced to make a much longer crossing from far down the coast to avoid official attention. By the time her small inflatable dinghy had reached the site coordinates, and after a few more hours of floating in choppy waters until the docking tower finally emerged from the depths – no doubt after the aliens had finally decided that this nuisance of a loiterer could no longer be safely ignored – she was thoroughly soaked, shivering, and exhausted. Now, surrounded by the gigantic robots within the cathedral-like dimensions of what must have once been the ship's bridge, she could not help but sympathise with the stares of contempt and disbelief she was receiving from several pairs of glowing red eyes. I guess I've deserved those … but this is what I wanted, and I'm still alive. They're curious as well, which is all I need. As long as I get to say my piece, it doesn't much matter what happens next.
Towering directly in front of her, elevated even above his normal terrifying stature upon a raised command chair, and looking like someone really pissed off the Lincoln Memorial, the Decepticon leader scrutinised her suspiciously. At length, he leaned back and relaxed somewhat, although the grotesque cannon fixed to his right arm maintained its uncomfortably close aim. At least that would be a mercifully quick end to this humiliation … though still a very disappointing one if I don't get to do what I came here for.
"Well, if you are an Autobot spy, you're certainly a poor excuse for one," declared Megatron, in the rasping, haughty tone she recalled well from many news reports, all depressing. "No weapons, no scanning devices, no backup … or at least none that cares enough about you to consider you worth recovering. Still, if you did come here of your own free will, as you claim, it says less about your bravery and more about your stupidity. What death-wish could possibly have motivated you? I suggest you explain quickly, while I can sustain my curiosity."
"Information, Leader," she answered, sticking rigidly to the point. "Nothing more. Free information, no strings attached. What you do with it is your own decision … but I think you'll find it interesting," saying which, her trembling fingers awkwardly removed the waterproof pouch of clear plastic that was slung from her shoulder, and she held it out towards him. It contained a small batch of 5¼ inch floppy disks. After a short, if unbearably tense pause, Megatron leaned forwards and carefully took the pouch from her. She barely succeeded in maintaining her still, resolute posture as the immense metal fingers, each powerful enough to have caved in her skull with a casual flick, came within inches of her face. When he had relieved her of the disks, however, he merely leaned back into his improvised throne and studied her 'gift' with a fixated, if confused expression. It was Starscream who eventually broke the silence, his shrill, sneering voice halfway between an annoyed vulture and a train making an emergency braking:
"What fools do you take us for, earth germ? This is obviously some stupid ploy to trick us into installing a virus on our systems. Only a complete imbecile would think for a single astro-second that-"
"Silence!" interrupted Megatron, venomously, having clearly not cared for the implied insult. After a moment's reflection, however, he turned back to Gail and spoke, his tone calm but deeply distrustful. "What do you have to say to that, human?"
"Your computer technology is vastly superior to ours," she answered, with a little more confidence in her voice. She had fully expected this question. "I don't suppose any human-made virus could seriously threaten it. Even if you suspect it could, you must surely have ways of studying the data safely. An air-gapped computer, or even some kind of Faraday cage if you're really concerned about electromagnetic-"
"Point taken," he cut back in, irritably. "You've thought your story through, I'll concede you that. So, what is the nature of this information you are so inexplicably eager to share with us?"
"A fresh energy source," she replied, astounded that she had survived this far, but still taking pains not to try her 'host's' patience. "Kayser Petrochemicals have discovered an untapped oil well in the Kachina Valley National Monument, and they've been given a federal permit to start drilling. Everything about it is on those diskettes: the location, the geophysical survey data, the core samples. They've been keeping it all highly secretive, so-"
"Secretive, yet you just happen to have access to it? I have not troubled myself to become an expert on your insignificant species, but in my experience power and privileged information tends to be vested among the older, male, white-skinned specimens, and you occupy none of those categories."
"Oh, noticed that, have you?" she unwisely quipped, and instantly wished that she had kept a better rein on her cynical amusement, as Megatron resumed in a tone close to a snarl:
"I did not ask for counter-questions, girl! If you wish to survive, you will answer respectfully and to the point. Now, tell me where you acquired the information."
"I'm a grad student at CCIT," she answered, as meekly as any cybernetic megalomaniac could have wished for. "I was doing some late-night research in the Earth Sciences Department, when I overheard the dean talking about it with a couple of Kayser's executives. I got curious … and I hacked her computer for all the information I could get on it. That's all there is to it."
"Data theft is your academic field? Then at least you have one virtue to your name."
"Err, just a sideline, Leader. My actual research is into renewable energy. Geothermal, hydropower, you probably get the-"
"Indeed. Well, it may or may not please you to know that you just gained some potential value as a slave," declared Megatron, doing nothing to raise her spirits. "Not to stray from the point though … Why share this information with us? What do you hope to gain from that?"
And here's where it gets really tricky … There are so many ways I could answer that, but none you're likely to be interested in any more than the greedy bunch of suits who approved this atrocity. The environmental devastation, the poisoned aquifers, the fact that those are ancestral, to say nothing of sacred Hopi lands which the government's happy to see raped to death, but you don't give a damn about any of that, do you, you sociopathic old bucket of- ?
"NEURO-ELECTRICAL SCAN INDICATES THAT THE LANDS BELONGED TO HER ANCESTORS," declared Soundwave, his deep, echoing monotone no less depressing to her for its lack of inflection. He reads minds. Just effing perfect. In spite of her own displeasure at being thus probed, the revelation seemed to cheer up Megatron no ends. His posture became almost relaxed, and his suspicious frown gave way to a satisfied, if by no means pleasant smile. This was a motive he could relate to, and which made perfect sense to him.
"Ah, and you wish us to help you reclaim them in return for the energy source, yes?" he asked, his tone dripping with false magnanimity. "You might have said that at once, my dear, and spared us all the intrigue. At least here we have a sound basis for-"
Oh, please. I may have a death wish, but don't you dare take me for a complete moron.
"It's nothing like that," she snapped back, angrily, drawing more than a few surprised and even mildly impressed stares from the surrounding Decepticons. "I don't want the lands for myself. I'm just sick of Kayser, and the government, and everyone like them turning this country into a toxic waste dump for a few measly dollars. It's corporate sabotage … and I'm using you, I don't deny it, but what does that matter if our interests coincide? Your technology's way more efficient than ours. If Kayser sets up shop there, there'll be pollution, spills, poison gas emissions, the whole works, maybe for years to come. If you get there before them, though, you could drain that whole well dry with minimal damage, turn it all into energon cubes, leave nothing for them. It's a win-win situation, except for those fat cats, but who gives a- ?"
"And yet, you gain nothing from this?" asked Megatron, his displeasure and suspicion back with full force. "Indeed, you would risk your own demise by bringing this to us, and for nothing except the dubious pleasure of committing some petty act of treason? I fear you will force me to sympathise with my air commander," he declared, while Starscream grimaced resentfully. "There must be some trick in this. You do not even try to lend plausibility to your scheme by asking me for the slightest of fav- … Do you find that amusing?" he asked, viciously, as she failed to suppress a sardonic giggle. Suspecting that she had little to lose now, and almost resigned to her fate, Gail answered him with honest irony:
"Well … not meaning to be disrespectful, Megatron … but how are your old friends Dr. Arkeville and Shawn Berger doing these days?"
"Alive, and better-off than they deserve," he answered, gravely.
"That's for sure … but anyway, you don't exactly have a great rep for generosity towards your human allies. No offence, but I knew better than to ask for favours when I came here."
"Yet with such a low opinion of me, you offer me an unconditional favour? You can understand my problem, no doubt. Supposing your request is motivated by pure altruism," he reasoned, pronouncing the last word with marked distaste. "Some … perhaps most would say that I make a strange choice of ally. Why did you not bring this petition to the ever-noble Optimus Prime instead? I daresay he would have been only too … You find that amusing too … or not?" he asked, struggling to interpret her cynical, mirthless laugh.
"Not exactly … but I did bring it to him," she confessed, bitterly. "He refused to get his lily-white hands dirty. 'Sworn not to interfere in human politics,' apparently. Oh sure, he's the big damn hero when it comes to protecting the government, their cherished citizens, their fricking military bases and ICBMs, even. Whenever it comes to that government arming and aiding terrorists, torturers, and fascists, though, or abusing the heck out of any form of life that isn't human, or trampling all over the rights of my people … suddenly, it seems like your Autobot opposite number's a thousand miles away with his metallic fingers in his metallic ears. Sure, you're a villain, but he's a mealy-mouthed moral coward and a hypocrite, not to mention a willing slave and a shill to the very worst humanity has to offer. If that's what passes for a hero these days, then …"
On this occasion, the cynical laughter came not from her but from Megatron himself, and it was no sad little involuntary chuckle, but a full-blooded, maniacal, demonic guffaw, even more horrible for its scratchy, metallic quality. It was, at any rate, a profoundly demoralising sound, and even the rest of the Decepticons did not at first seem to know how they should react to it. At length, however, as it became clear that the big boss was definitely in a non-ironic good mood, they started to join in, and before long Gail was surrounded by a veritable chorus of malicious, inhuman exultation. The atmosphere seemed to grow even colder from the sound, and she stopped resisting the urge to wrap her arms around herself, not caring that it made her look even more vulnerable. As the laughter died down, Megatron turned to Soundwave, who had remained characteristically silent throughout the ugly scene.
"Soundwave: please tell me you've been recording this … fascinating conversation."
"AFFIRMATIVE."
"Good, because I need that last sentence especially set to music. Optimus Prime, a coward and a hypocrite … I must admit, human, it does my laser core good to hear that. The great number of fools who hold that pompous, nauseating do-gooder in high esteem … including some of my own troops, I occasionally fear. It is pleasant to be reminded one is not alone in one's opinions. Well, just for that, I must insist that you ask a boon of me," he declared, with a smug approximation of generosity that did little enough for Gail's morale. If anything, it made her feel like the court jester of some capricious, sadistic tyrant who had, completely by accident, managed to pull off a good jape for once. "I may fall short of your image of the magnanimous emperor, but let us pretend that I am one, at least for now. What would you have of me, girl? Ask it without fear. As long as it is reasonable … and respectful, it will be granted."
Playing with me, of course. I've been promoted from 'germ' to 'toy.' How overwhelming … Still, a glimmer of hope, I guess, but what's the least I can safely ask for without appearing to slight the old bastard … sorry if you heard that, Soundwave. Well, here goes nothing …
"There is one thing … if it please you, Leader," she answered, picking each word as if it might be her last. "When … or if I leave here, it's likely that the authorities will find out what I've done, sooner or later. The word 'treason' might be a bit strong, but I don't suppose they'll be very merciful … but with the computer facilities you've got here, I guess you could erase my previous records, set me up with a new identity … if that wouldn't be too much to ask."
"Not at all," answered Megatron, his cruel smirk intensifying. "Simplicity itself. Perhaps a little too simple, but we can always work on that. In the meantime, you look tired. Soundwave, give our guest a level one concussion blast. She needs a nice long rest."
As an agonising pounding filled her brain and the world started to fade to black, Gail's last conscious thought was that she ought to have just played along, not tried to be clever, and asked to be made ruler of the Earth. No way this is going to end well for …
Megatron stared down upon the sprawled, unconscious form of his 'guest' with a certain amount of disdain, although less than he was accustomed to feel concerning her worthless species. She seemed the very epitome of powerlessness, her frail form emphasised by the close-fitting synthetic garment she wore, and yet by no means without courage … nor insolence. It's only fitting that she should be punished for that, yet I cannot help but feel the universe would be a poorer place if I terminate one of the few of us who considers Optimus Prime beneath contempt. No need to be so wasteful. I believe I can encompass her reward and her punishment in the same act.
"Well, that was kind of interesting … if weird," opined Rumble, casually. "What do you want done with her, Megatron? Flush her out of the airlock, nice long final swim?"
"I appreciate your diligence, Rumble, but for now I'd prefer you to just take her to the laboratory, and keep her sedated. I've an amusing experiment in mind." In spite of being barely over human stature himself, the small Decepticon effortlessly lifted the woman and carried her from the bridge, followed by more than a few bemused stares. No doubt Starscream will imminently accuse me of going soft. Let him. I could use the target practice. As this went on, Soundwave, with typical devotion to duty, was already studying the primitive computer storage disks that she had brought, delicately placing them within his chest cavity for his own laser scanners to pore over. He fears no human-made virus … yet something is amiss, realised Megatron, noticing his chief lieutenant's very slight changes in posture and mannerism that betrayed troubled emotions. Few would have noticed those signs, but few have known him as long as I have. "Your analysis, Soundwave?"
"ANOMALOUS DATA," declared Soundwave. "DISCREPANCIES BETWEEN THE GEOPHYSICAL SCANS AND THE CORE SAMPLES, AND KNOWN GEOLOGICAL PROFILES OF THE SITE. ONLY SLIGHT – AN INEXPERT EYE WOULD OVERLOOK THEM – BUT NEVERTHELESS … 96.45% PROBABILITY THIS DATA HAS BEEN FALSIFIED."
"I knew it!" blurted Starscream, angrily and impetuously. "A trick, just like I said! The treacherous human scum! We should have just killed it without-"
"NEGATIVE, STARSCREAM. SHE WAS SINCERE, IF IGNORANT. SHE WAS THE COURIER OF THE MISINFORMATION, BUT NOT THE SOURCE."
"Your conclusion?" asked Megatron, while Starscream lapsed back into a sullen silence. "Why would the humans fake their own data? To lead us into a trap?"
"IMPROBABLE. TOO UNRELIABLE A STRATEGY. MORE LIKELY, A COVER STORY. THE GOVERNMENT, OR SOMEONE CLOSE TO IT, WISHES TO EXCAVATE THAT AREA UNDER THE PRETEXT OF AN OIL OPERATION, WHILE CONCEALING THEIR TRUE OBJECTIVE. INSUFFICIENT DATA FOR AN INFORMED PROJECTION ON WHAT THAT MIGHT BE. POSSIBILITIES INCLUDE ALIEN ARTEFACT, METEORITE OF UNKNOWN PROPERTIES, NEWLY-DISCOVERED SOURCE OF ENERGY-"
"Any of which would be well worth the trouble of acquiring. Excellent. It seems our guest may have brought us something far more interesting than a mere oil well." Perhaps something powerful, that might even conclude this tedious excuse for a war, annihilate those accursed Autobots, and give me free rein to bring this galaxy under Decepticon heel, where it belongs. One can only hope Miss Adler will appreciate the outcome of her works as much as the rest of us.
Meanwhile, at CCIT …
It was the dead of night and no lights were on in the office of the Dean of Earth Sciences, but it was by no means deserted. A tall, slender woman sat at the desktop computer, squinting intently over her long, pointed nose as she studied an eye-wateringly gaudy CGA display of windowed files. Coincidentally, the graphics went quite well with her unusual attire: a two-tone pastel blue leotard, pink leg warmers, and aqua ballet flats that would have looked perfect in any dance studio of the era. Maybe not so great for a burglary, though, thought Garnet, as she paced nearby. She was somewhat less outrageously dressed, in black leggings, a purple top with a yellow zigzag motif, and wide wraparound shades, but hey, I'm pushing eight feet tall, with three eyes, so maybe best not to point the finger. Fitting in was never our thing … not even with our own kind. As if to emphasise the point, Amethyst – who was lounging with evident boredom on a nearby lab bench, dressed in black trousers and a purple tunic that matched her skin tone – decided to pass the time by munching some litmus paper she had scavenged, to Pearl's annoyance.
"Amethyst! Stop eating the lab supplies!" hissed their hacker, briefly glancing away from her work. "This is supposed to be a quick, discreet operation."
"Yeah, quick would be sooooo nice, Pearl," replied Amethyst, wearily. "If you'd like to do that any faster, please be my-"
"Oh, I'd like to see you do any better with this primitive Earth interface."
"Whatever. I don't get why Rose wants us to rob a high school, anyway."
"A university, Amethyst. Not a high school," explained Garnet, also in a lowered tone and with some reverence. "A place where humans can come and study whatever they want, choose to be whatever feels right to them, instead of having a function forced upon them." Something Homeworld could have benefited from, fat chance that it ever will.
"And this hardly constitutes robbery," added Pearl. "No humans should even know about the Pavilion of Mercy. If they've been nosing around there, or even worse trying to excavate its remains, it's our duty to find out how much they know, and put a stop to it before they cause themselves any harm. Gem ruins are dangerous places at the best of times, and this one especially."
"What actually went on there?" asked Garnet, although uncertain she really wished to know.
"Experiments. That's all I know. Pearls weren't exactly privy to classified research … but what I do know is that the experiments were horrible enough that Pink Diamond ordered them stopped, and had the Pavilion razed to the ground."
"Horrible enough to sicken a Diamond," reflected Garnet, sardonically. "That's pretty disturbing. Still … it might just be coincidence. The humans have become stupidly addicted to oil over the last century or so, and this Dr. Stendahl is on the board of Kayser Petrochemicals. They're the ones who own those jeeps we saw near the Pavilion warp pad," she added, for Amethyst's benefit. "It's not ideal them being there at all, of course, but if it's just to hunt for resources-"
"Then I'd like to know what the good doctor is doing with this on her hard drive," interrupted Pearl, leaning back from the monitor and gesturing towards the screen. She had minimised most of the windows except for one, which showed a schematic-type line drawing of a dome-shaped building surrounded by four tall, multifaceted spires. Just like in the archives Rose showed us. So much for my optimism, then.
"Well, I suppose that seals the deal," declared Garnet, sadly. "It's enough for me. We'd better get this information to Rose at once, unless you've found anything else interesting."
"Only that someone else hacked this computer before I got to it," answered Pearl, resizing a few of the other windows, which just contained incomprehensible streams of textual data as far as Garnet could make out. "Not very competently, either: they left an intrusion signature as long as my spear. Any number of failed login attempts … No doubt some other curious human who ought to have known better … Maybe I should take a record of this, Garnet," she suggested, with an air of concern. "If some poor student took it into their head to investigate this by themselves … Of course, they wouldn't have understood anything they discovered about the Pavilion, but even so …"
"They might have gotten themselves into some serious trouble, or maybe even danger. Rose would want us to help them. Do it," ordered Garnet, though she quickly regretted it. Pearl typed a few keys, whereupon the dot matrix printer buzzed noisily into life, its high-pitched tones reverberating throughout the office and making a mockery of their hushed voices. "You couldn't have taken a record silently, Pearl? Like on a disk, or something?"
"I, err, didn't think of that. Sorry," apologised Pearl, blushing a shade of pale blue. "It should be finished in a matter of … Where are you going?"
"Out in the corridor to keep watch. There are security guards in this building, you know?"
"Big deal," said Amethyst, dismissively. "I'd like to see what they'd do to us."
"Yeah, well I'd sooner not," replied Garnet, sternly. "We're here to help humans, not to harm them, and the last thing we need is to be marked as criminals by them as well as Homeworld. You two sit tight," she ordered, and marched out into the corridor, closing the door behind her. She was pleasantly surprised to discover that when it was closed, the noise of the printer was far more muffled than she had feared it would be, no more conspicuous than the sounds of the plumbing, the owls hooting from outside, the faint footsteps from just along the …
Oh dear. That's torn it … or maybe it hasn't.
What she had first thought were regular, approaching footfalls soon proved to be nothing of the kind. On the contrary, they soon became extremely irregular, and were coming no closer. If anything, it sounded more like someone shuffling purposelessly around a nearby small room. Although Garnet's cautious, Sapphire-y nature was strongly advocating ignoring the strange sound and sticking to the mission, the Ruby in her got the upper hand. What was it that Pearl said? Some poor student, maybe got into this too deeply. Suppose they locked her up here to stop her from interfering. If I don't check it out, I'll never forgive myself. Quickly but stealthily, she traced the sound a short distance down the main corridor, around a turning, down a narrow flight of metal stairs, and into a small basement corridor. It was almost pitch-dark down here, save for the sickly moonlight that managed to penetrate down the stairwell, so Garnet raised her left hand and projected a beam of reddish light from her Ruby gem. It revealed a few doors, all metal with vented grilles, yellow triangular warning signs, and sturdy locking mechanisms. In a good light, with the daily bustle of the campus to distract the ear, they might have seemed innocent enough – perhaps just access doors for the utility tunnels – but in the silence that now reigned, the quiet but much clearer sounds of intermittent shuffling that issued from the vent of the furthest door made Garnet's skin crawl. Why do I feel I'm only going to regret this? Steeling herself, and having summoned her right-hand gauntlet, she grasped the handle, forced the lock effortlessly, and pulled the door open.
The room beyond was plain concrete, unlit, and altogether bare except for a squat, shapeless form slumped in the far corner. It shifted as the door opened, raised what might have been its head, and turned towards her. With extreme reluctance, she trained the light of her gem upon it. The briefest glimpse of its distorted, barely humanoid features and its lumpy, fungal proportions, to say nothing of the screech of inarticulate anguish it gave, more than sufficed for Garnet's curiosity, and as it lumbered awkwardly towards her, whether in aggression or sheer desperation – either seemed as likely – she knew exactly what course of action to take.
On her way back, she met Pearl and Amethyst in the corridor, both with their weapons drawn. No doubt the creature's screams had carried even further than its footsteps. They relaxed their tense postures on seeing her safe and well, but stared avidly at the translucent pink bubble that floated above her right hand.
"Woah, that was a Gem monster, then … and you poofed it without us," said Amethyst, with playful disappointment. "Aw, no fair. You get all the fun on this mission while we-"
"This wasn't fun," interrupted Garnet, so coldly and grimly that Amethyst fell at once into awed silence. Pearl needed no such incentive as she studied the tiny object within the bubble with morbid fixation. It was of a pale, brownish hue, see-through but blotchy, and of very irregular shape, more like some organic accretion than a gemstone, like something that an Earth surgeon might extract from a diseased organ.
"That's … like … no corrupted gem I've ever seen," was Pearl's eventual, extremely distasteful assessment.
"Corrupted … or just corrupt, maybe?" speculated Garnet, as she willed the bubble to vanish. Away to the Temple with all of the others, to wait for however many more centuries it takes for us to find a way to heal them … though something tells me there's not much we can ever hope to do for this one. "Enough talk, anyway. We've got all the evidence we need. Time we told Rose. Whoever this Dr. Stendahl is, and whatever her game is, I reckon she's got a lot to answer for."