A monster emerges from the shadows. He is followed by another, and another, until the world is inhabited by new beasts of its own creation. This anthology incorporates stories from various genres and timelines, exploring what makes us who we are.
Soon the hull is repaired, interlocking plates closing the breach in the vessel, and Fred helps press the material more securely together, an unforgiving job, both men panting with fogged visors by the end.
Zach turns off his electric drill.
"How's it?" he says.
The men pause to admire their work.
"Needs reinforcement," concludes Fred.
"Later." Zach stows the drill in his toolbox. "We'd better hurry."
Floating around the curve of the ship, the men return to the entrance, their movements stiff and primed for whatever might hide in the void surrounding them like a blindness upon the retina.
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"Who are you?" demands Tiff into the microphone.
"No idea." The unknown voice harmonizes with the static. "Guess I dreamed you'd tell me." Whoever speaks is male based on the cadence and tone. "You possess fire, light. It's cold here."
"J-Jesus." She looks up. "Am I talking to anyone?"
"Not that I detect," replies the ship. "You appear to be conversing with yourself over there. Sometimes human minds create a sense of presence to keep them from distress. This is a natural coping mech—"
"Okay!" Tiff squeezes her eyes shut, clicking her teeth in a measured rhythm and knocking on the visor of her helmet. "Come on, space gal. You have a scientist's brain."
"Scientist's, true," agrees the unknown voice, parting the static like a missile through the sea. "Planter. Botanist. I'm not a delusion."
"You sound . . . like someone I know." She lays a hand on the transmitter. "A relative or . . . a friend."
"Oh?" The voice seems just as unsure. "I'd enjoy being connected to you."
"Are you Hive?"
"Yes I think."
"What do you mean you think?"
"Zach calls me Hive and I believe him."
"It's the name of the mother ship. We lost contact with her as we evacuated our home planet. After the nuke fell we just . . . deteriorated. Everything splintered. Don't you know?"
"Are you a woman?"
Tiff furrows her brows. "Pardon me?"
"You're with child."
She drives her tongue up into the roof of her mouth.
"Have I offended you?" persists the voice, bladelike, slicing as it asks.
