Specimen 231

Chapter 1

In a barren, broad expanse of unwanted space, a vessel slides through the darkness. It appears to be derelict, its lights nearly all off. Yet there are some points of illumination. There is life inside the hull, were one to look.

Within, the hallways of the ship pulse at a low hum, the engines pushing the vessel forward steadily, through gas clouds, dust, and radiation fields. Those corridors inside are cold, sterile, and still, the lights set low to a cool cyan. Rays of blue wash over black, gleaming tubes that run like in bundles like veins, insulated against the cold. Those conduits churning fuel, coolant, oxygen, and other substances throughout the body of huge the ship, circulating what the vessel needs to function. There is very little here that isn't hard and unforgiving. Chitinous, gleaming, reflective black panels line the vertical walls, with interfaces located here and there that blink in greens and reds, as if to lure in a crew that's no longer there.

This isn't to say, of course, that the vessel is unmanned.

There is one person within this climate-controlled shell, walking the pathways he's walked countless times. The sound of his boots is a harsh clap on the polycarbonate flooring, echoing down the narrow, open spaces. His reflection walks with him on either side, revealing a slender body clad in pseudo leather pants, canvas and rubber boots that strap up to his knees, and a tunic of neoprene, all of it in black. His left arm bears a gauntlet strapped tightly to his skin, with a keypad on the underside of his wrist. The man's arms, wiry and thin, are pale and bear tattoos – vines of circuitry, all flowing at right angles back and forth across his biceps, elbows, forearms, and down to his palms. Ink winds even around his index, middle, and ring fingers on both hands, leaving his thumbs and pinkies starkly bare.

His features, however, are obscured by a narrow helmet. Broad straps around the back of his head hug a gleaming black carapace to his face. His sure and careful stride gives evidence that his vision is in no way hindered by the plate. Slender tubes coil back and then join together, flowing down the nape of his neck into a flat, silent respirator pack on his back.

Without fail his stride is regular and constant, his head up and facing forward even as his right hand types in commands onto the keypad attached to his gauntlet. The glow of the rubberized keys gleams over his black faceplate, bars of green streaking in diagonals across the golem-like, featureless facade.

At last his steps take him toward the back of the vessel, and a moment to type in a code to his keypad unlocks and opens a certain door for him. Once he walks through it, he keys the door to close and lock once more, sealing in the room atmospherically. One never knows when it will be necessary, and today is a special day.

He has never gone in this room before, though he knows what it is. What greets his gaze first is a gallery. Comfortable seating is provided, rows of upholstered couches all face a huge, dimly lit warehouse. There is an electrical frame around the open viewing space – an emitter for a force field, to allow the spectators their entertainment while keeping the object of their amusement at a safe distance. At present the force field has not been activated, and the slight layer of dust on the couches and controls suggest that no one has been in this part of the ship for a very long time.

The man in the mask ignores all of this for now, choosing instead to pass through the viewing suite and into the warehouse, which is itself a containment facility. In full view of the gallery, this massive open area is populated with glowing stasis tanks. All of them are stored in neat rows, hundreds upon hundreds of tanks, each some two meters in height and a meter in diameter, filled with a light blue, viscous fluid. Many of them contain dormant creatures. These specimens have remained like this for countless years, collected first and stored, their tanks humming with the slight effort of life support as the ship had passed through space, abandoned and, curiously, fully functional.