Everyone had their assignments. Eiffel was dropping off rations for their favorite prisoners. Minkowski and Hera were trying to see if there was any way to save the Urania after Lovelace went trigger-happy on it. Lovelace, weighed down by the knowledge that there wasn't, was fixing one of the light panels that had been flickering lately. It wasn't a big job. But she didn't feel comfortable doing more important tasks. She'd work her way up to that.

Even so, as she unscrewed the panel, her hands were shaking. She glared at them until they steadied. They did not have the time for this.

Lovelace inspected the wires. They seemed alright for the most part, but a couple looked frayed. She ran her finger over the open seam in the rubber of one of the wires, and found that the cable within had broken.

Lovelace pulled back. It would have to be completely rewired, then. That was relatively easy, she'd done it tons of times before. Yet at the mere thought her stomach tightened and she had to close her eyes.

The worst part of being taken over by alien was that it didn't feel wrong when it happened. Her glowing-eyes-and-burning-people's-hand-off schtick was prefaced by a mere tingling sensation. Nothing else. She didn't feel like her head was being invaded, or that her limbs were numb and unresponsive, or anything else that was supposed to happen when you were possessed. Just a slight, cold tingling.

Then she couldn't remember anything.

Lovelace grimaced as she put the small flashlight between her teeth and got to work. Sometimes she thought she felt it again. It would sneak up on her, like someone cramming snow down her shirt - and she would be paralyzed.

She was being paranoid. She knew that. On the Hephaestus, it was cold more often than not; and that was because they were in space, not because of the aliens. She knew that.

And yet -

All the lights in the comms room went off. The only part of the room Lovelace could see was that which was illuminated by the small circle of light created by the flashlight between her teeth.

Lovelace found herself shivering. It's just a draft, she told herself. She started cleaning one of the sockets, which had rusted over, most likely due to the Plant Monster. It was boring work, but Lovelace put every ounce of her concentration into stripping the socket clean of any trace of rust. When she was done with that, she concentrated on the wires as though there was nothing more important in the universe.

In about twenty minutes, she was nearly done with the task. She smiled in satisfaction as she looked at the new wires. Step by step, they would all get back to Earth, and she'd live her life normally - aliens be damned.

She took the flashlight from between her now-aching jaws with her free hand. The only thing left to do was to plug one of the brand new cables - the green one - into the socket she had just cleaned.

At least - she was pretty sure that was all she had to do. That was what she remembered. She knew the ship like the back of her hand, and she knew it had to be the green cable.

Unless she was wrong. Or unless something else was forcing her to think that way.

Lovelace's hands started to sweat, and she had to reposition her grip on the cable and on the flashlight. She had been so certain, only a few seconds ago, about this simple step. But wasn't that how the aliens worked? That was how they made her shoot one of the Urania's primary consoles to pieces. That was how they made her burn Kepler's hand to a crisp.

The worst thing was, she didn't even know if it was all them doing it. After all, wouldn't she leap at the chance to hurt Kepler? And anyway, wasn't she technically one of them, an alien?

Lovelace's hands shook so badly that she dropped the flashlight. It floated off through the room, casting its cool white glow over the comms equipment, and then on Doug Eiffel.


Eiffel cautiously poked his head into the comms room. By the light of the flashlight spinning past the walls, he could saw Lovelace, her back turned to him, standing motionless near one of the panels.

"Hey," he said. "How's it going? Jacobi pretended he was asleep, and Kepler was waxing poetic again about what a big mistake we'd made and how we're all doomed unless we put him back in charge. So I'd say our prisoners are pretty normal."

Lovelace turned around, but took a moment to respond. Her face was drawn. She spoke just as Eiffel prepared to ask if she was alright.

"Hera, in the rightmost light panel of the comms room, the green cable goes into the uppermost socket, right?" Lovelace said, turning her eyes up at the ceiling (it was nice to know that he wasn't the only one who did that).

"Yes, captain," Hera said. "Why, is it not working?"

"No, no, I was just checking."

Eiffel nabbed the flashlight and went over to Lovelace. "Gee, I thought you knew the whole station inside and out. Guess it's kind of comforting to know that even you have your doubts." He handed the flashlight to her

"I shouldn't," Lovelace said, taking the flashlight and turning it away from herself. Her face and expression were immediately shrouded in darkness. She turned away, picked up the cable, and started to plug it in.

Eiffel realized that her hands were trembling.

"Are - you okay?" he asked.

Lovelace just shrugged. "Fine," she murmured. She flipped a switch. Nothing happened. Lovelace stared at the control panel, eyes wide, and didn't do anything.

Eiffel cleared his throat. "Sometimes you just gotta -" with his hand he slammed the side of the control panel. There was a whirring noise, and then the lights came back on.

"Thank you," Lovelace sighed. "I - I don't know what came over me." She wasn't looking at him, instead squinting in the sudden light.

"You should get some rest," Eiffel said. "I bet you're tired."

Lovelace snorted. "We're all tired."

"Yeah, but you've gone through a lot," Eiffel said. "You should get some sleep or something."

Lovelace shook her head. "I don't need to sleep, remember? Not since - you know."

Eiffel blinked. "Oh." He'd honestly forgotten - but now that she brought it up, how could he have forgotten? For the hundredth time, he tried to reconcile the Lovelace from the logs and the Lovelace he'd met and the little they'd heard from the aliens.

He tried, but found he couldn't. It was just too confusing, too weird, too crazy to understand.

Guilt welled up in him nonetheless.

Lovelace smiled tiredly at his lack of response. "Don't worry about me, Eiffel. I know what I'm doing. I hope."