Chapter 4
Threshold of Fear
Proxima and Crease waited in the flight control room while Wallace and Carnes worked. Extracting the object proved relatively simple, but moving it was not. Aside from the heavily shielded flatbed, every piece of robotic equipment they used suffered numerous difficulties. Proxima related his difficulty with the probe, and theorized that the object might be broadcasting electromagnetic or radio frequency interference.
"You know Proxima, that's really very interesting but it doesn't get us anywhere," Wallace grumbled over the radio.
After many attempts and much use of colourful language, they finally managed to get the object onto the launch platform without any serious problems. Once inside, conventional loaders had to be used, because the magnetic cargo lifters proved ineffective. Evidently the object had weak magnetic properties. Perhaps it wasn't built using metal.
"Holy Moses," Yun exclaimed. "What kind of ship isn't made of metal?"
"Maybe it has some kind of non-metallic hull casing," Carnes suggested. "Plastic or – goddamnit!"
"What is it?" Hagen asked urgently.
"Stupid fuckin' loader's stalled again! Has every droid on this ship gone haywire?"
"Cool off Carnes," Scott urged. "And let's try to keep the speculation to a minimum here."
The whole time the object was being moved, Proxima and Crease scanned the depressurized hangar bay for radioactive, biohazardous, or corrosive elements. They detected nothing, but the hangar's scanner array was no more reliable than the droids. Once the object was parked inside the containment area, its effect on the droids seemed to lessen. Proxima and Crease observed the droids complete their job without much difficulty.
"Object is secure," Crease reported. "Re-pressurizing the hangar… now." With a hiss, gas rushed back into the hangar.
"Pressurization at one-hundred percent. Containment appears to be holding, still no sign of contamination… okay Captain we're ready down here."
"Stand by doctor, I'm coming down there," said Hagen.
"Excuse me Lieutenant, is that such a good idea?" asked the doctor while he and Proxima donned EVAC (Environmental/Vacuum/Contamination) suits. "If there's something dangerous down here -"
"Worried about my safety Doc?" she asked coyly. "I'm touched. Actually if there is something dangerous you'll need my gun-arm."
"I'd better come along too," said Wallace.
"Negative Wallace, stay where you are," ordered Scott.
Once Proxima, Crease, and Hagen were suited up, they entered the hangar. The plastic used in the containment facility was not transparent, so all they saw of the object was a dark shape. Hagen was the first to enter with her assault rifle drawn and ready. Despite the bulky suit, she swiftly scuttled across the hangar floor. She circled the containment area like a vulture circling a fresh carcass, before barking out "Clear!"
Proxima entered next with a scanner strapped to his left arm, a sample container, and a lamp attached to his shoulder. Doctor Crease was last to enter. He had his tranq gun ready, and he imitated Hagen's crouched posture.
"Alright," said Crease grimly, "let's get to work." He attached a camera to Proxima's helmet and he started towards the entrance to the enclosure.
"Hold it," Hagen interrupted. "I'm the one with the gun remember? I'm going in first."
"Negative Hagen, only Proxima goes in. Nobody else violates quarantine."
"Captain!" Hagen was aghast. "I'm already suited, if there's something dangerous in there he shouldn't…" she paused abruptly, and then seemed to collect herself. "I should be on-site sir."
"If there's something dangerous in there, better to risk the android than your safety."
"Captain –"
"Stay where you are Hagen, those are my orders." Scott intoned harshly.
Hagen pursed her lips tightly before answering "Fine." She glanced reluctantly at Proxima.
"Be careful Proxima," she said, almost in a whisper.
"Same here," the doctor added.
Proxima nodded and entered the decontamination booth. A moment later the inner door opened. The instant it did Proxima felt disoriented, as electrical paths in his body suddenly became erratic. His visual resolution became distorted, his motor control became tenuous. His legs sagged and he almost dropped to his knees.
"Hey Proxima - what the hell is going on?" Hagen's voice came over Proxima's radio, heavily obscured by static. "The camera feed went dead! I can't see anything!"
Slowly Proxima began to recover. Fortunately for him, his body was more heavily shielded from interference than an average droid.
"I am functional," Proxima answered slowly.
"You scared the shit out of us Proxima," said Crease. "But I still can't see anything. What are you seeing?"
"The object is coloured dark grey," he reported. "I am moving closer now."
With each step he took, Proxima became increasingly anxious. The object's surface was completely undifferentiated, but not smooth. The surface had none of the luster one would expect from a metallic substance, but rather it glistened as if covered in moisture. Gradually Proxima noticed the surface did have a visible feature: a row of sharp fang-shaped striations along its side. They followed no discernable pattern of symmetry. The object had more the appearance of something grown or molded rather than constructed.
"Proxima? What do you see?"
"The object has no visible means of entry," Proxima related. "But… the object's hull..." he trailed off.
"What about it? Report?"
"I am going to take samples of the object's… skin." Proxima said slowly.
"What was that? I didn't get that last part."
Proxima did not reply, having no words to describe the thing that loomed ominously before him. As with the camera, his scanner did not function. His equipment included a small functional laser cutter, which he used to slice a tiny piece of the object's hull. Both it and the hull discoloured slightly.
"Lieutenant Hagen I…" Proxima's voice abruptly failed him. Systems scrambled to compensate.
"Say again what?"
"I request permission to penetrate the object with a laser drill."
"Alright. How are you holding up?"
"I am functional," was all Proxima could say.
Interminable moments later, the quarantine hatch opened revealing a manually operated laser drill. Proxima moved the device into position and set it to a lower intensity. He experimentally probed the underside of the hull. The spot on the hull discoloured slightly, but no other effects were observed. He gradually turned up the intensity until he noticed a reaction. Under the laser, the hull gradually began losing its shape and sagging, as if it was melting candle wax. Proxima increased the intensity again, causing further sagging and discolouration. But instead of liquefying and dropping off, the lump of burned hull began to even out. Proxima stopped the drill and found a dark aperture left where the beam had struck, surrounded by the swollen discoloured lump of hull, like some misshapen doughnut.
Not caring to speculate on the utterly… alien behaviour of the object, Proxima resumed his drilling. He had carved out an inverted L-shaped groove when the hull began to writhe repulsively. He ceased drilling and watched as the swollen hull at the corner of the cavity came loose and peeled away. A roughly triangle-shaped dark entrance remained.
"I have carved open an entrance to the object. There is no visible activity, I am proceeding inside," he reported.
"Acknowledged."
Proxima tentatively gripped the edge of the peeled-off section. Though tactile sense was limited through his gloves, it was rock-hard. The object offered no viable handholds, so he climbed up the peeled section into the entrance. The hull was less than half a meter thick. From the limited light seeping in, he could make out an irregular tube-shaped form by his feet. He stepped forward, reaching for his shoulder lamp.
Suddenly Proxima's foot caught on something. Unable to compensate in time, he stumbled deeper inside.
"Proxima what's going on?"
"I mis-stepped. I am undamaged, but…" He trailed off. Inside the object was pitch black. Though he only had a limited capacity for apprehension and fear, he was certain he had reached his threshold. His eyes weren't equipped for infrared reception, so he quickly fumbled for his lamp and turned it on.
As his photoreceptors adjusted to the light, he became aware of a number of grey-coloured slightly rounded leathery objects, each reaching slightly over knee-height. Overhead there was a collection of thick rib-shaped structures. There were more structures lining the walls… almost like a rib cage. All of the surfaces inside were uneven with lines, grooves, indentations, all of which followed a distinctly organic skeletal pattern. There was a sloping raised surface before him.
Proxima tried to communicate with Crease, but his voice was too heavily obscured by static to understand. Worried, he performed his survey as quickly as possible. His suit's environmental sensors did not function, but from the complete silence of his movements, he deduced the object was completely depressurized.
He climbed up into the centre of the object and was able to get a better perspective. The raised uneven platform he was standing on ran the length of the object's interior. Overhead a thick segmented tube ran parallel to the platform. On either side more of the leathery structures lay nestled beneath the rib cage. They seemed to be connected via a grotesque root-like system of small segmented tubes covering the lower ground. Proxima's foot must have gotten caught on them. The hole he had welded lay between two of the ribs. There was no sign of controls, or anything else consistent with a spacecraft. There was no visible activity of any kind. The interior of the object seemed much smaller than its outside dimensions.
X X X X X
Outside the object, Hagen watched impassively as Crease kept trying to raise Proxima. Finally he gave up.
"Captain we've lost contact with Proxima. If he's not out in five minutes I'm going in after him."
"Negative doctor –"
"You can write me up if you want," he said evenly. "Four minutes, fifty seconds."
"Doctor, need I remind you that your oath doesn't extend to mechanicals?"
A look of wrath passed over Crease's face. He reflexively opened his mouth to snap at the Captain, but stopped himself.
"Four minutes, forty seconds." He turned off his radio and glared at Hagen. "When the time comes, I hope you don't plan to try and stop me."
Hagen didn't answer, her face was expressionless. Crease lingered for a moment to see if she would respond, then went back to his attempts to raise Proxima. Inside the thick gloves of the EVAC suit where no one could see, Hagen was gripping her rifle so tightly her knuckles turned white.
X X X X X
Proxima took samples of the "roots" and the wall material. He examined one of the leathery structures and noticed a thin crease along the top, as if it were meant to contain something. He tried to pry it open but to no avail, and his cutter had only a minor discolouring effect. He then tried to move one of them, but found that it might as well have been welded to the surface. He considered using the laser drill parked outside, then reconsidered. Satisfied (and relieved) that he had collected possible all raw data, he sealed the sample container and tried the radio again.
"This is Proxima, is anyone receiving?"
This time Crease's voice came through, barely audible due to static. "Crease he… Proxima wh… your situa…"
"I have completed my sweep and am coming out. Stand by for decontamination."
"Copy."
Proxima turned to leave, when he thought he heard something. It was at the edge of his audio receptors, a soft snap or hissing sound perhaps. But sound waves couldn't travel in a vacuum. His audio receptors must be malfunctioning now. Nevertheless he checked the area once more. There was still no sign of movement, and there were no other sound disturbances, including from his own movements. Without further delay, he scuttled out through the hole. Without even waiting for his photoreceptors to adjust, he hurried into the decontamination booth and sealed the door.
"Nice of you to join us Proxima. Are you alright?" asked Crease.
"Yes." He answered in monotone.
"So what's the word?" asked Crease.
Proxima gave the only logical answer he could. "The object is not of human origin."
Hagen showed no sign of surprise. Crease practically climbed into the radio. "WHAT!"
X X X X X
Inside the object, one of the leathery structures began to discolour. Its surface began to glisten, and the top curled open, like the petals of some leathery flower.
X X X X X
Author's Notes:
One little detail I forgot when I wrote the artifact survey scene: sound doesn't travel in a vacuum. I've edited the scene to reflect that.
-MA