Fade Eternal | ONC 2023

Three: definitely not normal

In situations like this, where screams rang out through creepy corridors of mold-laden space stations, the smart thing to do was to run. Run as far and as fast as you could in the opposite direction. Anyone with an ounce of self-preservation would instinctively know that.

So why, Fade wondered, was he running towards it?

He must be going mad.

The sound of his feet was absorbed by the furry mold, which grew thicker and more prevalent the further he went. It felt like running on carpet—soundproofing carpet, which made him all the more aware of the silence pressing in on all sides.

The weird earthy scent grew thicker as he followed the curve of the corridor. It became swampy, a humid, musty blend that made him wrinkle his nose in displeasure. For some reason, the station was worse on this side.

He found that strange, especially since the station itself wasn't very big. Nor was its structure complicated to understand. The circular corridor formed the main passage that connected the outer and inner sections. The outer section held several rooms, which were marked by the occasional round door. He blew past several of them, paying them little notice other than the fact that they all sat dark and silent.

Lights bloomed ahead. It was his team, clustered together around the only door into the inner section. Which, judging by the big yellow warning symbols stenciled beside it, was the lab that housed the dangerous alien plant.

Fade slowed, lifting a hand to shield his eyes from their lights. He squinted, barely able to make out the faces of his teammates. Night-vision eyeballs were more hassle than they were worth, in his opinion.

Lydia waved him over. "Take a look at this, Fade."

She spoke like she'd found something neat, like a rabbit with a bucket on its head or a flower that grew in six different colors. So Fade didn't think too much about it when he joined them, and glanced down at what had captured their attention.

He blinked.

The door to the lab was currently closed. Out of every surface he'd seen so far, it was the most covered by the fuzzy mold. He couldn't even get a single glimpse of the metal surface that assuredly lay beneath it. A strange dark substance oozed from the seams, like the room beyond was filled with liquid, and it now seeped out through the cracks.

As bizarre as it was, Fade quickly realized the leaking door wasn't the object of fascination here. It was the lump of meat nestled against the base of the door.

Very recently, it had been a person. Now it was half of one, severed at the waist either by the closing door or by something else. It lay on its back, face frozen in a contorted expression, its eyes pale and glassy. Blood still spurted from its gory wound, feeding the ever-widening pool at their feet.

Light spilled across it, cruelly adding color to Fade's monochrome vision. For a long moment, he stared, unable to tear his eyes away. His mind observed, calm and clinical, while the rest of him was reeling in horror.

His stomach twitched, as if considering whether it should violently object to what he was seeing. Fade swallowed.

"It's green," he said faintly.

"Hm."

He didn't know which of his team members made the sound. It didn't matter.

"That's not normal." He paused, suddenly uncertain. They were in space, after all. "Is it?"

Professor Daktari crouched, and plucked a small ball of fuzz from the half-person's shoulder. He studied it for a moment, then flicked it away. "If he was Endulan, yes. But he's very clearly a human just like the rest of us. So, no. The green blood is definitely not normal."