“If I could have all bodies seated and all objects stowed, we can get this jump underway,” said a voice over the Mobius shuttle’s intercom. From the sound of it, or from what Nora could make out over the chittering of the group of mismatched people she found herself the de facto leader of, was young, male, and nervous.

  The shuttle itself was nothing too special. A run-of-the-mill, old Sovereignty design, showing decades of use as any hand-me-down would, was a far cry from the shuttle Nora had come to Belltower on. The only Mobius staff outside of the cockpit seemed to be Kara herself, who, now flush with credits, decided she was above helping their new guests find their seats and had assumed the role of passenger herself.

  After urging Tolly and Oseto into their seats, and while Oscar searched to find a seat wide enough to fit his own suited bulk, Findlay and Nora resolved to meet the captain. Findlay knocked on the cockpit door.

  “If I could have you and your partner take a seat, sir, we will be able to push out of this system and onto Pedi Mond,” said the captain over the intercom.

  Findlay and Nora looked at each other, each as offended at the thought of them being together in any sense of the word. Nora tasted something bitter in her mouth, but maybe that was just blood from her gums, clenching from the events of the last hour and their riotous escape. Nora gestured to Findlay, who shrugged and knocked another time.

  “Sir, I am afraid to have to ask you to sit once again. I say that as I am dealing with enough up here at the moment,” the captain said again.

  “I am knocking,” Findlay started, “for I take it I know which issue you are dealing with presently. I believe my partner and I can be of some help.”

  There was silence, but only for a moment, before the cockpit door unlocked.

  “Looking for you, are they?” asked the captain as Nora and Findlay entered.

  Nora nodded. “It’s likely. Though, I’d like to see your findings on that.”

  The captain, a man of midnight complexion, brought up a wall of text on his shuttle’s display screen.

  “This here’s a writ of disembarkation,” he said, “I’ve been ordered to turn around, no questions asked. But, being as curious as my father instilled in me, questions are all I have. Maybe you can explain why I’m being ordered to return to Belltower?”

  Nora thought for a moment but ultimately decided honesty was the only path forward.

  “They want us. My party and I,” she said, “We destroyed some lab equipment, threatened to release a bioweapon, and started a wage riot.”

  “That all?” asked the captain, “you sound like my batch of folk.”

  The captain stood from his cramped captain’s seat to extend two hands towards Findlay and her. Both Nora and Findlay shook a hand and introduced themselves, after which the man, satisfied, said, “name’s Bruin. Bruin Backen. And I know what you’re thinking; I’m a little young to be a captain.”

  “There’s a lot of that going around, Captain Backen,” Nora said, thinking of Tolly, though she declined to elaborate.

  “Atrocious acts aside, why are they really asking me to turn about?” asked Bruin. “I mean, stands to reason they would elaborate some if your grievances be as bad as you say.”

  Nora had an idea, one that was vindicated seconds later when they received a bulletin. She recognized the call insignia as that of Belltower’s Station Master’s office.

  Findlay patched the call through, prompting a; “Hey, now!” from Bruin in protest.

  “Mobius Charter shuttle two-two-six,” said the green visage of the station master, “You are hereby ordered to return to berth nineteen without further delay. Any attempt to run will mark you as hostile and banned from dealings in Belltower space.”

  “Stern gent,” said Bruin. “Okay, and if I do roll into port, what then– will you take my passengers and stuff ‘em in a dark hole somewhere?”

  “That is not your concern, two-two-six. Your trade agreement with this station is binding. Any willful attempts to subvert the laws of this station and of this star system will result in forfeit of your vessel, yourself, and any cargo aboard.”

  “Damned if I do, then?” asked Bruin.

  “If you return now, we assure you that no charges will be presented.”

  “I’m sorry, Station Master–?”

  “Master Rikard Vilodoff, and I–” answered Vilodoff.

  “You see here, Rik,” said Bruin, cutting him off. “These kind folk have purchased passage aboard my ship. Neither I nor my dear uncle who founded this company would risk our good name on handing over paying customers.”

  “This is not a negotiation two-two-six. Turn now or be marked outlaw,” pressed Vilodoff.

  “Where I’m from, mister, outlaw’s a compliment,” said Bruin as he hopped into his captain’s seat. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to disagree at this juncture, Rik.”

  “Two-two-six–!” barked Vilodoff before something offscreen warded him into silence. Stepping out of view, Vilodoff’s image was replaced by that of his puppet master, Director Smythe.

  “Doctor Gaul, if we could please be civil about this,” The Director said, barely bottling his disquiet.

  “Hamsen,” said Nora, holding back a grin, “great to hear from you. How are the kids?”

  “Cute,” said The Director, “We both know you are harbouring a fugitive of science in your ranks.”

  “That’s a funny word for torture-victim,” Nora remarked, prompting a head-swivel from Bruin. “I believe you mean the man we rescued from your black site prison.”

  “Yes, and how did you manage that, if I might ask? I had sworn your movements were tracked to the utmost. And, despite the dereliction of your own apartment and the baffling sacking of your own lab and work, you had not left my sensors.”

  “I believe you are speaking of my handiwork, Director,” said Findlay as he stepped into view.

  “Agent Chikore…” said The Director, nonplused, “I might have known. It seems your leash had loosened too far of late.”

  “Shit for you to know everyone hates you,” spat Findlay, indignant and out of character. “You and your Tim can get on a first-class shuttle to Sol for all I care.”

  “Tim? Tim has gone,” said The Director. “Our Doctor Gaul saw to that.”

  “Don’t try to lay that on me, Hamsen. You sacked your own man right in front of me,” said Nora.

  “Indeed, though had you not involved him in your schemes, he would still be employed. Agent Chikore and Tim Dienain have a past, you see. It was Tim’s employ tying Findlay to this station and to me.”

  “This is true, Findlay?” Nora asked. Findlay nodded.

  “We had something in history, sure. When I heard he left, I figured my time was numbered and that I might as well reach out to him now that he’s free from your poison, Director.”

  “Indeed,” said The Director with a scoff, “it matters little. What remains is now you are in unlawful possession of Saturnus property that I would see returned without further escalation.”

  “A life is not property,” Nora protested.

  “Doctor Gaul. Think. Don’t throw your career away on such a futile exhibition,” The Director said. “Turn back now, rejoin your lab – your work – and all will be pardoned.”

  Nora thought seriously about that. She had devoted her life to science, to knowledge, to seeking out answers. What she had done was spit in the face of her life’s achievements. Resolute now in her decision to stop the madness, she knew what she had to do.

  “Director Smythe– Hamsen. You have proven yourself to be void of any semblance of humanity. I cannot, in good principle, let this go on any further. You are done here, Director. I will see to it that anyone, everywhere, will know what you have done.”

  “As you try your hand at threatening me, Doctor,” he said, “Know that I am in sole possession of any evidence to back up such claims.”

  “Not exactly,” said Findlay, “I seem to find myself in possession of such a batch of video files detailing the ‘research’ you conducted, not to mention our mutual friend on board to back up our story. You are sunk, Director.”

  “Mister Chikore–” said a fuming Hamsen before the feed was cut off.

  “He was bothersome,” said Bruin after shutting off the feed. “Well, we’ve overstayed our welcome here for a good while. Next stop Pedi Mond.”

  “No,” said Nora. “We can’t go there.” It was her home, everything she knew before coming on this adventure to Belltower, but something was telling her it would never be the same. She thought of her new wayward friends and knew each of them had somewhere they ought to be.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “No?” asked Bruin. “You here are my only paying customers. So long as you have the credit, you name your destination.”

  “Oseto and I would appreciate a ferry to Vass?” posited Findlay. “I’m not certain where Tim went after The Director sacked him, but that’s as good a place as any to start looking.”

  Nora nodded. “My concern was getting Oscar out of confinement,” she said, “I owe you a lot for that, Findlay. Least I might do is take you where you need to go.”

  Findlay nodded low, bordering on a bow.

  “Vass it is,” said Bruin. “Could use some of that Akavoan wine while we’re in the space or a crate. Would fetch a price back home.”

  As the shuttle headed to the edge of the system, Nora and Findlay rejoined the others and strapped in. Bruin readied for the jump to riftspace. The fabric of space peeled back, opening wide as a rift opened just ahead of the craft. With a final sigh of relief, Nora left the whole debacle of her tenure with Saturnus behind her.

  After Bruin gave the all-clear and the shuttle was securely within the non-space space of the rift, Nora unbuckled and stood to walk over to check on Tolly and Oscar.

  “The Director sent his regards,” she said numbly.

  “And may he burn eternally,” said Oscar through the intercom.

  “Should we expect him to come after us?” asked Tolly, worried.

  “He’s powerless outside his little sphere,” Nora assured her, “All he has is words now.”

  “And money,” said Oscar, “A man like that – a man with money – never underestimate the reach of such a miscreant.”

  “You say some strange things, Oscar. How can his money reach us out here?” asked Tolly, “In the herd, the only people with that much wealth are politicians, and they are given it by the people.”

  “Yes, well. I imagine your federation knows as little about Sov customs as they do about mine own,” he said.

  “And what are your own, Oscar?” asked Nora. “We risked a lot to take you out of there. I’m hoping that means you can share a little something about yourself. How The Director got his hands on you, what you are planning on doing now that you are free, and more specifically, what are you?”

  Oscar’s suit remained motionless, and as ever, his suit’s blast visor covered with complete obscurity, even the faintest outline. Nora could feel the man weighing the dilemma even from behind his suited tomb.

  “Oscar?” pressed Tolly.

  Oscar turned to Tolly and reflected the softness of her concerned face right back at her off his glazed blast visor.

  “I will tell you what I can,” said Oscar, “but not here.”

  “You can use my stateroom!” called Bruin over the ship’s intercom, “in the back. There’s no one listening to you in there.”

  Oscar unbuckled his suit and stood under some strain as if not wanting to put his full weight on one of his feet. Nora led the way, followed by Tolly, who held up what she could of Oscar’s bulky suit and guided him into the stateroom, which in reality was little more than a closet with a bed.

  Oscar seated himself on the bed with Tolly’s help, and she sat on a bureau across from him. Nora chose to stand, entering the room clutching her day bag.

  “So you’re not human,” Nora said, unceremoniously spilling the contents of her day bag onto the bed beside Oscar.

  “What is this?” he asked. In amongst the sparse pile of Nora’s belongings was the plastic bag containing waste matter.

  “I wouldn’t open that in here,” Nora said, “but I believe it’s your foot.”

  Oscar picked up the bag and examined it, squishing it carefully between his suited fingers. “Ingenious,” he said, “hiding it in a bag of excrement. I can’t imagine I would have thought up the same.”

  “Tolly,” Nora said, taking the bag from Oscar and handing it to Tolly, “see if Bruin has some disinfectant. Take this thing into the lavatory and give it a rinse.”

  Tolly, unsure as to why Nora was sending her away, obliged with a crinkled nose.

  “Now,” said Nora after Tolly had left, “You have to be pretty battered beneath all that bulk. Take the suit off, and I’ll have a look at you.”

  Oscar hesitated, “Are you not afraid of what you will find?”

  “I have seen you before, Oscar. I got a look at the feed of you in your cell.”

  “Then you know what horrors I experienced,” he said, his voice sullen through the suit intercom.

  “I’m a doctor,” she said, offering further reassurance, “If you were going to trust anyone, let it be the medical professional who risked everything to get you out of that hell hole.”

  Oscar finally obliged, beginning with the suit’s extremities he first loosened the gauntlets with a hiss to reveal the same olive skin Nora had seen on the feed, pockmarked with scabs and subtle bruising. The gauntlets clanged to the stateroom decking. Next, with his hands free of the bulk of the gloves, Oscar reached down and nimbly unlocked his boots and dropped them next to the gloves. Expecting to see two feet, there was now only one. On Oscar’s left, his foot bore the same sallow flesh, but his right side bore no foot at all.

  “Gods… have you been walking this whole time leaning on a suit alone?” Nora asked in amazement.

  Oscar nodded. “Thankful I count myself that you have reunited me with my foot.”

  He continued removing sections of his suit to reveal his broken, torn, and vulnerable person until Nora was staring face-to-face with the source of her academic frustration these past few months.

  “Well?” Oscar said, his voice no longer muffled by the suit’s intercom. Nora could finally hear his accent plainly, only much like the man she still could not place its origin. “Say something.”

  Examining him with her eyes, every inch of his body was fascinating. His arms were torn and cut, his missing hand replaced with craggy fingers gaunt to the bone. From his rampant bruising, to where scar tissue now replaced much of the torture she had witnessed on the video feed. It was several moments before Nora saw it fit to answer him.

  “You’re definitely not human,” she said as if affirming it in her own mind, “but you look so human.”

  “I would find it amusing, were I not presently in tremendous pain, that a scientist such as yourself can not simply use your eyes to see what sits plainly before you. I look human, as you say, therefore am I not?”

  “I’ve seen you under a microscope. You are as far from human as I can imagine,” said Nora.

  “And your companion, here on this very shuttle, is further from that truth you call human. I believe you call him Oseto?”

  “Oseto is vass,” Nora said, “come to think of it, you contain some vass DNA also.”

  “And yet you dare not berate me for not being vass.”

  “That’s different. You look nothing like a vass. Why don’t you look more like one?”

  “An artefact of the distant past, it is,” he said, brushing off the question just as Tolly returned with the bagged foot, freshly cleaned.

  Unexpecting to see Oscar without his suit, Tolly dropped the bag in shock.

  “Come and stare,” Oscar said, inviting her in.

  “She meant no disrespect, Oscar,” said Nora, “neither did I. You must understand, I have questions. You are so far outside what science has seen before.”

  “Maybe,” Oscar admitted.

  “I– I’m sorry,” Tolly said, seemingly ashamed at her own reaction, “When I saw you, you reminded me of something else….”

  Tolly picked up the bag and handed it back to Oscar. “All cleaned up. Bruin and the others weren’t happy with the smell,” she said.

  “I have seen that foot do some remarkable things,” she said. “Though a few mice weren’t so lucky.”

  “You have seen this flesh heal?” Oscar asked, gesturing to the bag. “You have seen my foot regenerate on its own?”

  “Only under certain operating parameters. It required a mouse, some of the dark fluid – which now I take to be your own blood – and a little time.”

  “It was horrific,” Tolly said.

  “Indeed,” Oscar admitted, “the transformative power is a marvel of my kind.”

  “The Director called it the same thing; The Transformative Power,” pointed out Nora, unsure of the significance.

  “As abhorrent that man and what he subjected me to was, I’ll admit he is right. In simplest terms, I possess the capacity to regenerate,” he said, “If you would like a demonstration?”

  Oscar proceeded to open the bag, to which Nora and Tolly – being unprotected by any mask or normal sense of medical self-preservation – flinched as he did.

  “It’s quite alright,” he assured them, “this is of me, and is so bound to my will.”

  Oscar placed the foot on the ground and pressed down on the stump end of it with what remained of his shin. Within seconds, filaments of black and white spread out from his own leg, tying themselves together into a lattice as it wove its way into the foot. A minute later, Oscar’s face showed deep concentration as he strained and began moving the smallest of his toes.

  “It will take several hours for the process to complete,” he said.

  “Have you lost your foot before?” asked Tolly.

  Oscar nodded. “Among the cruelty I witnessed in The Director’s care; he took much from me.”

  “We saw,” Nora said, “though I recall you regrowing the other foot entirely. However, I had a hunch this might also work.”

  “This is much faster,” he admitted. “I can, in fact, regrow much, a product of my biology. There are, however, limits. And I require food.”

  “Pardon me for my ignorance, but what do you eat? I don’t think I packed any more mice for your foot to bite down on,” Nora chided.

  “Perhaps you and your crew will do?” Oscar said flatly. Nora and Tolly flinched again. “I jest. Anything you might eat, I will find sufficient.”

  Nora, uneasy by the sallow man’s attempt at humour, realised that in her haste to enact her plan and flee Belltower, she had neglected to pack anything to eat.

  “We’ll be at Vass within the day. Can you wait until then?” said Nora.

  “I shall be fine,” he said.

  “I’m actually pretty hungry,” said Tolly. “I’ll check with Oseto and Findlay. Maybe they remembered to pack something.”

  As Tolly left again, Nora switched back to her original line of questioning.

  “You’re really not going to tell me what you are?” she asked, somewhat flustered. “I don’t want to say you owe me, but–”

  “If it’s a designation you need to quiet your scientific mind, why not come up with a term of your own making?” he suggested, “any word or phrase I can give will mean nothing to you, ultimately.”

  She thought about that. Nora had identified an entirely alien lifeform from the smallest of samples, only to follow the long trail that led her to him– to a living, breathing representation of something so fantastic, yet so visibly similar. Within the breadth of a moment, she considered the crossing paths that had to converge to lead this marvel of genetics into her lap, the strangety that still confounded her, altogether unknown. That’s when she knew.

  “Homo Exoticis,” she said.

  Oscar nodded.

  “Tell me,” she said, sitting down on the bureau, “how did The Director capture you?”

  “I was sent to investigate a certain stirring, a signal from a region of space long thought dormant,” he said.

  “The Rys?” she asked.

  “The generation ship,” he said, “a well-known artefact among my people.”

  “Your people…” Nora thought aloud, “your people were the colonists of The Rys!”

  “That is what our records show, yes,” he confirmed, “though that is generations past.”

  “I had no idea there were still living descendants. The other generation ships all reached their target worlds. Well, mostly. The Rys was a lost mystery to us until only very recently.”

  “When it was happened upon by your Saturnus’ ships,” he said. “An unexpected turn of events, to see anyone that far out in the black.”

  “You crossed paths with them?” Nora asked, “is that when they took you?”

  “‘Taken is a word that does not apply. I was offered in an exchange,” he said, poorly hiding his disdain.

  “Your own people traded you to Saturnus– for what?” Tolly said, returning with a handful of ship ration bars. “Bruin had these. He says they should still be good, despite their expiry.”

  “Thank you,” Oscar said, taking and ripping open one of the bars and taking a bite. “Yes, my own people did as you say. To them, I am worthless, an aberration, an outcast.”

  “Not to us,” said Tolly. It was apparent Tolly was warming to him, despite his appearance.

  “What would be worth trading you for?” asked Nora.

  “A life… for a life. One was taken in my place, one more moldable, more elastic in the face of the will of my people.”

  Nora thought about this, about The Rys and the research station Director Smythe had commissioned there, and about who had been sent there.

  “Sam Bowen?” she asked.

  “I know of no name. I saw a man, only,” said Oscar between bites.

  Nora could see the sallow man before her, a wounded soul only looking for comfort in the face of losing all he had known. She chuckled to herself, lauding the universe’s choice to pair these three together.

  “That’s enough questions for now,” she said, seeing his exhaustion and feeling a little of her own despite still wanting to continue digging for answers. “Tolly, let’s give Oscar some time to heal that foot.”

  “I do have some rest to catch up on,” he said, laying back in the stateroom bed. Nora half expected his recently reattached foot to stay behind on the floor as he repositioned in the bed, only to be surprised when it followed him.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” she said, moving to the door and ushering Tolly out ahead of her.

  “And Doctor Gaul?” he said. She paused and turned to him. “Thank you.”

  Nora nodded, closing the stateroom door behind herself.