The sky outside flashed dazzling white; a second later, thunder ripped the silence apart, momentarily deafening her hearing. She hugged her knees tighter, reminding herself that thunders were just sounds, not dangerous at all.
The room was dark, even darker after the flash; the only thing visible was pale green phosphoric glow of numbers on the clock face and two lines: clock hands. The short one was between two and three, and the long one was nearing five.
Ifalna raised her head, looking at the clock. Everything was quiet. She kept on watching the slow movement of glowing lines, slowly nodding off, only to be woken up again by another thunder. This time, the sound rocked from left to right, followed by low grumble.
At last, she heard footsteps from the room behind the wall. Shaking off sleep, she stood up from her bed and tiptoed to the wall. Whoever was moving there - she perfectly knew who it was - went up the stairs from the basement and left the room, heading towards the passage to another wing, the sound quieting with distance. When it faded completely, she opened the door of her room and sneaked out.
The corridor was lighted by wall sconces, casting circles of warm yellow upon walls and floor. Ifalna quickly, but quietly made her way into the southwest room. As she had hoped, the door to the basement was open; it made too much noise when moved.
The stairwell was completely dark. She lit up her flashlight and went downward, not willing to turn on overhead lights in fear of being discovered.
In the lab she was greeted by familiar hum of coolers. On the computer screen, lines of letters and digits where moving upwards - apparently, someone left a program to do calculations through the night.
Ifalna sighed. She did not like this, not at all: hiding, sneaking, lying to her colleagues - but she could not expose herself. Not yet. After she dispelled her suspicions, she promised herself, and only to Gast.
She glanced at the digital clock on the table. 3:14. Time was short.
Extracting the tissue sample and preparing it for microscopy, she reflected on events that led to this awkward moment.
When Ifalna first arrived and went to look at the well-preserved anthropoid body that Gast had called Jenova, she felt something wrong, even before she actually saw it. A kind of nagging feeling at the back of her conscience, a faint sense of danger, a whisper of warning. It surprised her, but she dismissed it then, blaming her uneasiness on the fact that it was the first of her kind she had seen in a very long time, since her own parents died.
The body itself was strangely deformed: with tentacle-like appendages coming out of it, stubs of wings at its back, and huge heart-like organ fused with its feet, it looked nothing like Ifalna would imagine her ancestors. Of course, much could have changed in two thousands years, butthis did not look like a normal being at all. When she voiced her doubts to Professor, he answered that they, indeed, will study in thoroughly.
Jenova was dead, of course; but something felt sickeningly alive about it, - not her, Ifalna understood suddenly; it was not just a body of long-dead woman, even if Cetra woman. There was something else - a predator, a monster, a being that existed only to consume... No, not only. To transform?.. To build?..
Still, she was not sure then, if she should trust her senses. All this could still be explained by excitement in the face of so big a problem that stood before the five of them: to recreate a being that was dead for two thousand years.
But when they began to study tissue samples, with every new finding that made her colleagues so excited, she felt more and more dread.
Jenova's tissue samples contained two type of cells: one of them (relatively small in count) similar to normal human cells, with the same structures, and mostly too damaged; and the other - Type-2 - did not resemble anything they saw before at all. Outwardly these cells resembled normal cells of the tissue they resided in, but on the inside... Completely unique cell structures, not like any known organelles, and the way cells were connected to each other by thin tendrils distantly resembled brain cells, regardless of the type of tissue they have studied. But the most important things about these cells were that they were still alive, though all the processes in them were slowed, and they reacted when separated from each other - searching and connecting again, if the distance allowed that.
It was Lucy - doctor Crescent, Ifalna recalled, placing her tissue sample under the microscope, - who first suggested to use Mako on Jenova's Type-2 cells. The result was incredible: consuming the energy, the cells began to multiply, forming the organ the sample was taken from. When all the Mako was consumed, the cells became dormant again. While others talked loudly, excitedly, interrupting each other, she stared at the tissue sample - no, an organ, almost wholly-formed kidney, - in awe. What was that thing? Was that truly one of her own kind?
Now she had a chance to ascertain that.
Several minutes later, Ifalna lifted her head from the eyepiece, pushing a stray lock of hair away from her forehead, and rubbed her temple.
Her own muscle tissue sample contained only normal cells, nothing resembling Jenova's Type-2. What could that mean, she wondered, scowling at the microscope.
Only one possible explanation. One of them - either she, or the Thing - was not really a Cetra.
If she was a normal human, that meant she had some kind of mental illness causing all the confusing voices in her head.
If she was a Cetra, what then was the thing they dug up from the Crater?..
Calamity... - a distant voice whispered at the edge of her mind. - Calamity from the skies...
Ifalna shuddered, suddenly cold in her thin t-shirt and shorts, hugging herself and trying to tune the voices out and put her thought back in order.
So, if that thing was not a Cetra, that could mean trouble. She briefly considered telling Professor Gast about her ancestry, but dismissed the idea. All other scientists on the team, Faremis included, were so fascinated by the fake Cetra, that her admission would lead to nothing, except her turning into just another lab rat. Ifalna glanced at the computer screen, where the lines continued to run up. Everyone was so invested in the project, she mused absently, especially Hojo - it was his program using CPU time now, obviously, - he was invested to the point of obsession, the only person still able to distract him being Lucy. Ifalna would not be surprised if they would marry, she thought, smiling faintly, before returning to her present dilemma.
She had to prove that the Thing was dangerous. She had to do something. But for now, she could only observe and try to make them re-check everything they were doing.
The clock on the table showed 4:07. She had to return to her room before anyone wakes up. Ifalna disposed of all evidence of her presence in the lab tonight and quietly tiptoed back to her room, avoiding creaking boards. Storm passed, and in the darkness of the room she could see a pale rectangle of the window, partly shadowed by black shapes of the trees outside; the dawn was beginning.
The voices in her head never stopped their indistinct murmur.
Maybe she was wrong tuning them out, she thought, returning to bed. Maybe she should try to listen to them instead, learn to understand what they were saying. If she was truly a Cetra, she should be able to.
When the sun peeked from behind the cliffs to the east, and the birds sung, announcing a new, warm and sunny, summer day of the year 1978, Ifalna was asleep.