The days following James' transformation were a rush of activity. He'd begun by spending a quiet, intimate, and intensely physical evening with Tracey, only to discover, as she passed out from exhaustion, that he was not tired. In fact, his body seemed incapable of the sensation. Sleep seemed as foreign to his new physiology as calculus would to a cat. He decided to visit Harold, who was not as surprised as he should have been.
"Welcome back James," the older man greeted warmly. "I'm glad to hear you're doing better."
James' eyes narrowed suspiciously.
Harold sighed. "I'm sorry. I've been working here for fifteen years, and I've known about Project Prometheus for ten of them."
So many things seemed to click into place. "The research into Subspace?"
"Traveler telepathy was the basis for it," Harold confirmed.
Their conversation delved deeply into technical areas that James could then be privy to. He was initially frustrated. He'd been hampered by a lack of knowledge. If he'd had that depth of knowledge from the beginning, it would have cut weeks or months off their project. But the more he considered it, the more he was glad to have had the perspective of an outsider. Some of the things he and Harold had learned from their failures would be invaluable moving forward.
From Harold, he visited Greg. He'd suspected something was off about the man from the first moment he'd met him. He'd been right. The man that opened the door to the spartan looking room was nothing like the drunkard he thought he'd known.
"Evening James," Greg said with a knowing smile. He wore an unusually revealing muscle shirt, and plain black trousers. His arms, as skinny as James' own, were telling.
"I knew it," James breathed as the other man pulled him inside.
"Pretty obvious in retrospect," Greg said with a reserved chuckle.
James nodded. "I guess it would be."
"I suppose now is the time for proper introductions," he said evenly. "I'm Lieutenant Potts, but I'm not one to stand on pomp and circumstance. Greg is still fine. I'm one of Knox's intel operatives. I lead my team into situations we aren't strictly allowed to be in. I'll introduce you to them sometime."
"The whole drunk thing?"
"An act. Mostly. I've found people are a lot more likely to talk to someone who doesn't seem all the way there. I'm never not working."
James shook his head and grinned at the other man.
"You are remarkably tight lipped by the way," Greg said with a smirk. "You always seem to stop one drink before I get you to a point you might start talking. Makes sense of course, given your past."
The next day was for Tracey, just as the first part of the evening had been. She hadn't been bluffing. She voluntarily went through the process, showing as much resilience as James had, though he knew her well enough by that point to pick up on the layers of put on confidence. Just as she had, he stayed with her, a constant reassurance. Though they hadn't bothered with quite so much attention to the process itself. Tracey instead busied herself with note taking, jotting down every sensation and every thought brought on by her experience.
Finally, after a bit more than three days post hatching, James was told his suit was ready. Tracey joined him as he was escorted through a set of taller tunnels designed for humans as well as Travelers. The wide open atrium they spilled into was one of the most unsettling and impressive things he'd ever seen. Resembling the curving organic look of the hive at Sutter's Ridge, hundreds of suited Travelers moved about, busy with their daily lives. Some of them resembled those of Gordon's or Knox's, but there were a few possessing exotic shapes. A group seemed to have fleshy sacs on their backs, and were pulling resin from them before laying it in place and shaping it with practiced, expert hands. James spotted one in an alcove, four slender arms working over some piece of equipment.
"Welcome to the Nest," Greg said, lacking a suit of his own at that moment. James had been dismayed to learn that the reason he hadn't seen it, was because Greg's, like many of the military's suits, was a Warrior variant. He'd heard only descriptions, but Warriors were large, spine covered brutes with nearly every aspect designed to make them weapons. They didn't fit in any but the largest Traveler Tunnels. Greg seemed just as comfortable in his human skin however, likely a consequence of his frequent espionage work.
"This is home. The real home for most of us. It took years I'm told. I was actually hired for a corporate espionage job by Wey-Yu about ten years ago. Gordon sniffed me out before I made it through the airlock. Instead of having me sent away, or worse, he showed me the truth, and offered me a place. How could I not?"
"Is that something they try frequently?" James asked.
"Not anymore. They've learned. Spies that turn up here end up in one of three places. In our employ, empty handed at Wey-Yu's doorstep, or for the particularly crafty ones, the ones determined to feed things to that corporate demon, quietly dropped into a star or a gas giant. Gordon doesn't like it. Fact is, if all someone did was run to the press, he'd let them. But feeding intel to Wey-Yu? Out of the question."
"That's horrible," Tracey breathed.
James couldn't help but agree, but he also understood the desperate necessity. "It's better than the alternative Trace. You know better than most. Corporate Titans are dangerous under the best of circumstances. Could you imagine if they learned about this?" He raised his arms in adulation and spun for emphasis.
"Exactly," Greg said. "This is the best kept secret in the universe. And it's stayed that way, because each of us understands the gravity. I'm sure you both do as well, but it'll be even more clear in a month or two. Come on, this way."
They followed him into a tunnel that led into another smaller chamber. Inside were more than two-hundred tanks arranged in circular platforms on a column stretching far above and below them. Each tank contained a fluid that was almost completely transparent, but had a yellowish tint to it.
"Mix of water and Synthetic Traveler blood. Artificially controlled to facilitate modification, or growth in your case James."
Their goal appeared to be on the floor they had entered, as Greg began to walk the circle. These tanks were mostly empty, save for three. The first two contained suits in two different phases of early development, though one was closer to complete than the other. Tracey stopped and looked up at it in awe. It was hers.
"Let's leave her for a bit," Greg suggested privately. "It's not uncommon for someone to react that way. You'll see."
James nodded and followed the man around the ring. He spotted his own, but his eyes didn't really resolve the sight until he was standing in front of it. It was surreal. The black chitin was familiar, and it created a kind of disquiet. He could feel that his body was whole, and yet standing before him was evidence to the contrary, a piece of him, separated.
"Like staring up at your own severed head," Greg breathed.
James nodded.
"It doesn't go away until you get in. I should have walked us around the other way. Trace is in for it. I wasn't thinking… Ah well. Come here."
James looked down to see Greg standing next to a console. He joined the other man and presented a finger to a mechanism on the side. A needle slid into his finger and back out with an audible pop. The screen flickered. "GENETIC TEMPLATE ACCEPTED. INITIATING TANK DRAIN."
He stepped back and watched as the almost transparent fluid drained from the tank. His suit remained standing, some built in reflex keeping it that way. They weren't autonomous, except directly after hatching. The transparent alloy the tank was composed of, slid downward stopping just short of being flush with the platform, as there was still a bit of the caustic liquid puddled at the bottom of the tank.
James stepped forward, his feet bare in his jumpsuit. The liquid didn't bother him. Like all Travelers, his body had been rendered immune to it, his cells coated in such a way that the acidic properties could find no purchase. His mind reached out and took hold of the limited capacity of the empty suit, and he compelled it to open. The chest split apart, opening in three petal like pieces, revealing a cavity just big enough for his slightly emaciated, and extremely flexible frame to squeeze inside of. He got a grip on the edge and pulled himself up to sit. The suit extended a prehensile limb, tipped with a thin spike, and waited for James to retract the flap of skin covering his Node. When he did, the connection was made and James felt alive for the first time in his life.
The human shaped being, sitting halfway out of his chest, required one last connection before he could truly be whole. He extended a second limb from inside the cavity, above the human shaped being. It took James a moment to comprehend that he was in fact, still controlling both bodies. The one with legs dangling over the edge was still just as much him as the tall one covered in black chitin. He flexed the opening in his other chest, then made the final connection. He was whole. He pulled the smaller of his two bodies inside the cavity and sealed it shut.
As the senses of that smaller form went dark and quiet, he became hyper aware of the larger body's senses instead. His entire body could perceive vibration as a matter of course. It was so sensitive that he could feel the thrumming of Tracey's five pseudo hearts from a quarter way around the circular platform. Arranged in four gill-like structures on the front and back of his neck, were olfactory glands more precise than any in the known animal kingdom, other than the monstrous cousin they had in XX121. His head contained sensors that took in numerous wavelengths on the electromagnetic spectrum, granting him a sort of high resolution radar that brought everything within ten meters of him on all sides into sharp clarity, with even completely opaque solids seeming to be slightly translucent. Finally, and least interesting of the senses he had available, was an ocular organ facing forward. It worked almost like an eye, though it was clearly intended exclusively for longer distances, in excess of those supported by his closer ranged radar senses, because it flatly refused to resolve anything closer than about eight meters.
It was disconcerting how easy it was to tune out the only semblance of true vision this body had access to, and rely primarily on vibration, olfactory, and the nearer range radar, in that order. But then a vibration that contained so much information it confused him, rebounded against his chitinous body. He quickly identified the source. Greg had spoken. He turned to face the short being, more out of habit than actual necessity, and prepared for him to speak again. He did. Deciphering the audio information in this new sensory format wasn't impossible, but it was difficult.
"Testing testing testing," he repeated a third time, with James finally being able to resolve it.
Then came the trickier matter of response. He'd heard Travelers speak numerous times, as Tracey was still very new, and still had yet to master the telepathy that would soon link her to the rest of their species. So he thought he understood the mechanics. The plates of organic armor lining his body reverberated with each vibration that hit them, but in turn, that process could be reversed. He took control of tiny muscles sitting just beneath the plating, and produced his first sound. Tracey's head spun to stare in surprise at the cacophony, and Greg flinched.
"Well that wasn't right," James thought to himself, refusing to rely on his telepathy as a crutch.
"Fffffchhhhhtttttthhhhhiiiisss iiiiiissssss heeeeeaaaaarrrdddd," he managed, almost producing intelligible words.
Greg laughed. "Almost there. One more time"
"Thif if… This is ard-hard," he said brokenly.
"There you go. Fuck. You are quick. Obviously, it's not all that useful once your girlfriend figures out how to use her head, but you might need it again some day."
Tracey held up her middle finger at him, but had already turned back to gaze at her suit, refusing to look away again. James laughed inside the suit, but refrained from attempting to produce the sound through his suit for fear of damaging everyone's eardrums. Greg laughed as well, before turning back to James.
"You want to see mine?"
"Wwwrrr… Yyyes," James replied, narrowing yet more sounds.
They followed their path back to where Tracey was still staring up into the tank. James, with more gentleness than he would have thought possible, placed one slender long fingered hand on Tracey's shoulder. She'd grown accustomed to the presence of suits in the preceding two days, and so her reaction was to reach up and put her small hand over his.
"Wwwweee'll come back," James promised aloud.
Tracey turned. "Okay. And you sound ridiculous by the way."
"Iiii'm ttrryying mmmyyy best."
"I know. And you still look incredible."
Greg groaned. "Trace, hush. You guys are nauseating me. James, try this. Repeat after me. The quick fox jumps over bright yellow stones near the riverbank. Seven bright stars twinkled in the midnight sky while the wind whispered softly. A gentle breeze lifted the red silk curtain as sunlight poured through the open window. Loud bells echoed through the ancient hall, sending shivers up every spine. Beneath the forest canopy, small creatures scurried, leaves crunching with every swift step."
James quickly memorized the lines, and cheated slightly by having Greg repeat the words in his head to make sure he got them. Quietly, as he walked, he repeated the words over and over, making fewer and fewer mistakes as he went. When he finally managed a single pass with no major mistakes, Tracey blinked in surprise.
"I didn't think it would be so difficult to learn how to speak."
"Just wait," Greg replied teasingly. "It'll be harder for you. James has his super brain thing going."
"Thankfully," Tracey said icily. "I won't have anyone to use it with right away. So I don't care."
"Fair enough," Greg conceded. "In here." He led them into an alcove in the main atrium and James actually had to slightly look up, even from his higher vantage point. His suit was around two and a half meters tall. He could easily hunch, or even drop onto all fours, taking advantage of his digitigrade legs, to fit into tighter spaces. The monster standing in front of them, had to have been three and a half, or four meters tall. The arms were at least triple the diameter of his own, and every surface was covered in enough spikes and sharp edges that a mere impact would be dangerous in the extreme, regardless of which part actually made contact. The tail, strewn haphazardly on the resin floor, terminated in a hook bladed double ax. And then there was the crest. Adorned atop the head recessed behind thick plates of shoulder and neck armor, was a large horned crest that would no doubt inflict catastrophic damage to anything this beast decided to drive it against. Every part of this body was meant to kill.
"Let it be known, throughout sea, and air, and space, and land, that there exists no more dangerous beast, than man," James whispered, managing the line without mistake or pause. The line from a poem written by Miriam Havers in the mid twenty-first century, struck him as intensely accurate.
"We aren't man," Greg reminded him in a soft whisper as he stepped forward and the monster before them split open. Greg leapt up with agility befitting a Traveler, and landed on the lower petal. He connected, and then the armor knitted back into place and the monster was alive. Greg took a single step forward, bringing the massive armored foot down so gently that it produced no more than a whisper of sound.
James was suddenly reminded that even this beast was an instrument of precision. But then he was struck with another thought. This one, he conveyed to Greg directly, unwilling to speak it aloud.
"How much overlap is there between our senses and those of XX121?"
"Nearly 100%. If we can do it, it's likely they can too, though ours are wired through a more sophisticated brain."
James was drowning. He hadn't imagined it would be possible for him to feel fear in this new life, but there he was, petrified. On three separate occasions over three days, James came within six meters of the most terrifying creatures that humanity had ever discovered. Now, seeing through the 'eyes' of those creatures, he reached one simple, horrifying conclusion. They had known where he, and his companions were, from the moment they entered the space. Any perception of successfully hiding was an illusion. The demons savored their terror, feasting on it, like a leech feasting on blood. It made sense. Stories like that seemed to be the norm where Xenomorphs were concerned. One survivor, or a few, would make it out alive, permanently scarred, both physically and mentally. As if the monsters were saying 'HA! Let them run. We got our kills. They'll never forget.'
James had neglected to seal the link he'd opened with Greg, and the other man was able to perceive his new mental state.
"Oh," he said, realization dawning. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."
James pushed a blade of thought through his own mind, sweeping the churning sea of terror aside and reasserting control. He refused to let decade old memories hurt him. He severed the connection he'd opened at the same time. He'd been still long enough that Tracey had taken notice.
"What's wrong?" she managed to say into his mind, though James could feel the effort it took her.
"Nothing," James could say with complete honesty, though only by technicality. He had excised everything that was wrong like a surgeon with a tumor. "This connection feels stronger," he praised. She had asked him not to use his own gifts to strengthen their infrequent links, and James had honored that, despite his loathing to lose them when she lost the mental strength to maintain them. This time however, she seemed to sense what she had done right, doubling down and strengthening the connection rather than letting it fade. It wasn't perfect, but it was progress.
"I think I'm getting it," she said, her pleasant mental presence deepening further.
"This is perfect," he replied in agreement. "Can I help you now?"
Her response was a mental sigh. "Fine. A little."
James took the rickety bridge she'd managed to cobble together between their minds, and reinforced it with the mental equivalent of steel beams and concrete.
She was exasperated. "Give an inch," she complained. But at the same time, his desire to keep her there in his mind was endearing, so she permitted the overreach.
He didn't let it show through the link, but he had no intention of releasing that connection unless she desired it. He hadn't actually shown her how little effort it took him to tether her like that. It cost him nothing, and it was worth everything. He could never have guessed that just when he found her, he'd be thrust down a path that would allow such closeness.
"Shame you're putting all that practice to waste," she said contemplatively.
"I'm sure I'll find some other humans to talk to. I wonder if Harold would be willing to relocate the lab to the Nest. We'd get so much more done with me like this."
"Why hasn't he joined?" she asked curiously.
That very question had occurred to James, and Harold's response had simultaneously made all the sense in the world, and yet, perplexed James more than he cared to admit.
"I'm not sure I want the responsibility of immortality."
That had been the point where James had learned about that particular aspect of Traveler biology. Biological immortality wasn't unheard of in known science, but for a being as complex as the Travelers, it should have been a functional impossibility, rather than definite reality. James hadn't needed long to both understand, and then profusely disagree with Harold's perspective. James had fully embraced that responsibility. He was ready for whatever came next. He was a member of a new species on the precipice of enlightenment. Already, the Traveler's actions echoed across the stars, though in shadowy secrecy that humanity would likely not learn about for centuries.
Tracey observed the memory James showed her, and mirrored his own sentiment. "I think that we owe it to the universe to put some things back together instead of always taking things apart. This is the first time in human history that we've really been forced to accept the consequences of our actions. Because the world we create today, is the one we'll have to live in tomorrow."
James offered only wordless assent, with no meaningful comments coming to mind.
"You guys want to share with the class?" Greg said aloud, intruding on their thoughts.
"Not really," Tracey said with an easy smile.
"I feel like you guys aren't as impressed as you should be," Greg muttered, shifting his bulk.
"I am," James allowed. But he couldn't help himself. He slipped into a sarcastic tone. "I'm just so in awe of your magnanimity."
"Alright smartass," Greg growled. "Wanna arm wrestle?"
"No," James said in an amused tone. "I don't think I do. I just got this thing. I'd rather not break it."
"Coward," Greg complained.
"There's a fine line between bravery and stupidity," James retorted.
Another suited Traveler stepped into the alcove, and James recognised them as Knox.
"Oh good," she said aloud, taking note of Tracey's presence. "You're already suited up Greg. Briefing in five."
Tracey extended a mental tendril, with James' help, to contact Knox. "I'm getting the hang of this."
Knox offered the mental equivalent of a smile. "Well done. And looking sharp, James."
"You found them?" Greg asked, all business.
"We think so," Knox confirmed. "We're getting a team ready to go. Your usual. Anyone you want to add?"
"Not at the moment," Greg replied. "Sorry guys. Duty calls."
Greg and Knox left the area at a run, a surprisingly quiet activity in Greg's case.
"Did you still want to go back?" James asked Tracey.
"Yeah," she replied, longing coloring her mental voice.
They retraced their path through the labyrinthian tunnels back to the tanks. There they sat. It occurred to James that neither of them needed to eat or sleep. They could easily sit there peacefully waiting for her suit to finish growing. It wasn't any kind of hardship for him to sit in quiet contemplation with her. She expressed gratitude as they both settled in to wait. James could have easily disabled his sense of time, all Travelers could. Sensory modification was just another one of the many benefits afforded them. But he refrained. He was anything but bored. For one, he had plenty to think about. Plans for his project. Plans in general. And two, Tracey was easy to be around. Just her presence, even as engrossed as she was, was contentment manifest.
Though he had only just joined with his suit for the first time, James was already considering options. The sophisticated body of an Engineer caste suit called out to him. He had yet to meet one personally, but he had heard them described. Their four limbs terminated in a variation of the hands normally found on suits. As opposed to chitin, they had pads made of tough, but sensitive skin. The tactile sense granted was enough to detect the most minor of imperfections in an otherwise smooth surface. And with four limbs as opposed to only two, they were perfectly suited to complex technical tasks, and that seemed just fine to James. He resolved to begin the metamorphosis as soon as he could stand to be separated from his suit.
On another note, he'd begun considering plans regarding the woman sitting quietly on the platform. Had he remained human, he could have easily imagined falling for her in the coming months, or maybe even weeks. He could imagine someday asking to marry her. Those feelings were no less driving in his new body. But the sentiment had shifted. What was something as mundane as marriage to an immortal. And that concept wasn't unique. There were so many things that no longer mattered. Money? Meaningless. Employment? Why? From a life of variance and learning, James was possessed of the skills that could enable him, if he were so inclined, to bring himself from the stone age to the modern era of technology in a few decades. He could drop himself on a random planet, life sustaining or barren, and within a matter of years, take again to the stars in a craft constructed by his own hands.
And as he included Tracey in these thoughts, more and more, her simple presence was all he desired as he considered diving back into the universe in a crawl of discovery, less lonely than the last one he'd embarked upon. But what did she want? Had she even begun considering the implications of this life? How did he ask her? He made a choice. He took that inner monologue he'd been contemplating and poured it into their mental link. It was both wordless and yet contained novels, and was terminated with three simple words.
"I love you." In truth, while their romantic relationship had begun only a few days before, months of quiet conversation, and a deep companionship born of a shared perspective, had yielded love long before he'd kissed her.
Her response was both unsurprised, and reciprocating. "I love you too." She had considered many of these concepts, though she felt more of an obligation than he had. She felt attachment to humanity that James had almost abandoned. But in the end, her desires were simple. "Forever is a long time. We can not only do anything, we can do everything. For now, I think we owe our time and service."
James agreed. Tracey was no longer in opposition to the connection James had crafted for them. She embraced it fully, allowing deep thoughts and feelings through it. James replied in turn. The pair sat, in quiet, and intimate, contemplation for the hours remaining.
My upload schedule is Sundays. Unless otherwise specified.
Credit for the Cover Art goes to my wonderful friend 𝐿𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓉𝒽.
This Chapter uses no generated content.
Story content for the early chapters written with the assistance of Chat GPT. Later chapters use less and less generated content. This story started as a kind of experiment. The results were good at first, but they began to drop off as the machine began to deviate further and further from my vision for this story. I'm sharing this information freely.