Evelyn lay sprawled across the cold, unyielding floor of her apartment on board the Morningstar. A sinister dance of chemicals within her bloodstream held her muscles captive, an acetylcholine inhibitor binding to receptors that refused to heed her silent pleas for movement.
The darkness of the room enveloped her, offering no solace to her fear-steeped heart. The faux window, which usually simulated serene vistas from Earth, remained dormant, its comforting lies denied to her. Nearby, the grubox hummed softly while tirelessly converting waste into sustenance with an efficiency that would have awed her ancestors.
Memories teased at the edges of her consciousness, fleeting fragments that danced just out of reach. The last clear image before the abyss was that of a beautiful brunette. They had met at the Dragon's Talon, a bar and grille renowned for its exotic ambiance aboard the Morningstar. But what had transpired between clinking glasses and whispered conversations?
A whisper of movement stirred the darkness, and Evelyn's ears pricked at the sound. There was a familiar cadence to the footsteps that approached her: a rhythm she'd heard through the buzz of conversation and clinking glasses not long ago.
"Shhh," came a gentle shush from the shadows, the voice as smooth as silk yet carrying an undercurrent of iron. "Try to calm your mind. It'll all be over soon; I promise."
Evelyn's eyes flicked towards the source, and from the penumbra emerged Charolette: or so she had introduced herself back at the Dragon's Talon. The woman was a vision even in the dimness: tall, with an impossibly perfect face framed by cascading dark hair. She was clad in a zegowni, its reflective surface catching elusive glints like stars glimpsed through a nebulous veil.
"Charolette?" Evelyn's voice was weak, barely above a whisper. "What's happening to me?"
"You have to understand something, Evelyn... none of this is your fault," Charolette said, her tone almost soothing. "My cells have synthesized a... bit of a tranquilizer for you. Just something to keep you calm while we talk, babe."
"Talk... talk about... about what? What's there to discuss?! Get out!" Desperation edged into Evelyn's voice. "Why are you doing this, Charolette? What did I ever do to you?"
The woman smiled wryly. "My name isn't really Charolette, for the record. You with me, babe? You can call me Nezka. I've always been fond of that name. As for why I'm doing this... well let's just say you've become a disruption to the ecosystem. In my mind... that's a huge problem."
"I'm not a disruption, Charolette. I'm just a... you know what I am. We... we talked about this already. You know me. You know what I do. Who I am. How am I a disruption to anything?" Evelyn felt her tongue growing numb and her lips were also tingling. Her vision was blurred, but this was clearly the same woman she had met hours before.
"Everything is connected, Evelyn. Every action has its consequences," Nezka began, her gaze holding Evelyn's with unwavering intensity. "And sometimes, those actions must be... rectified."
"Rectified? What the hell are you talking about?" A cold dread began to seep through Evelyn's veins, countering the warmth of the zegowni-clad figure before her. "Rectify what?! I haven't done anything wrong!"
"Oh no? I know a certain someone on station AQ64-X1 that told me in detail about your interstellar operation."
"I don't know what you mean. I've never even heard of a station AQ64-X1!"
"Forgive me for being so formal. Most people refer to it as Xanadu. Sound familiar? I think you know the person I'm referring to."
Nezka glided across the room with a grace that belied her sinister purpose. Her reflection shimmered on the polished surfaces of Evelyn's abode, a dance of light and dark as she approached the grubox nestled in the corner. With a smooth gesture, she commanded, "Water, cool, one glass."
The machine dispensed a clear, crisp liquid into a glass. Nezka turned back towards Evelyn, her steps deliberate, each click of her heel on the floor a countdown to the inevitable.
"Here," Nezka said, kneeling beside Evelyn's paralyzed form. Her hand tilted the glass, guiding the water to her victim's parted lips. "We can't have you dehydrated during the process. It doesn't go as smoothly."
"I'm not saying another word about Xanadu without my attorney present and what do you mean by process? Could you please give me some goddamn answers?!" The cool water trickled down her throat but offered no relief to her parched fear. "I deserve that much."
A sigh escaped Nezka's lips as she placed the empty glass aside. "I suppose you do deserve a full explanation so here it is... I'm going to consume you, Evelyn." Her eyes held a faint glimmer of apology. "Absorb your body for sustenance. You won't survive the feeding process, but this is all for the best. I promise."
Evelyn's mind reeled, terror clawing at her thoughts. "People will notice I'm missing. I'm the CEO of Sullivan Industries, for goodness's sake."
"No one will be looking for you for quite some time, Evelyn, and even when they do start searching, I'll be long gone. Your body won't be found. It will seem as if you simply... disappeared."
"People will know you came into my apartment with me," she said, each word a struggle against the invisible force pinning her to the floor. "The ship's sensors track any passengers' whereabouts to measure the quantity of carbon dioxide and water vapor being exhaled. Iodva closely controls the environment and..."
"I don't think so," Nezka interrupted, her tone laced with an unsettling amusement. "Iodva is very intelligent. She is conscious after all, but she doesn't know everything. I can quite easily mask my biosignature from Iodva or any other senticom. I can even adjust my biosignature to match yours. Anyone doing a scan of the room will think a middle-aged woman is sitting in here, even though it's just little ole me."
Desperation clawed at Evelyn's mind, a silent scream that resonated in her motionless body. The cold floor of her apartment was a cruel reminder of her vulnerability. "I have a daughter," she managed to utter through the paralysis, each word an immense effort. "She's back on Terra."
"I know, Evelyn. Katiya Ivonova, age twenty-seven. She has a boyfriend named Anton Mikhailov, age thirty-four. Did you know she's pregnant, Evelyn? You're going to be a grandmother! Isn't that exciting?" Nezka's smile was far from practiced. It was a genuine expression of happiness for the woman who would soon meet her demise.
"Why, Charolette?" The question lingered in the air, heavy with implications. "Why me?"
Nezka tilted her head slightly, considering Evelyn as though she were a specimen under a microscope. "You have an interesting group of financial partners, Evelyn." The words were slow, deliberate. "It turns out that you've invested millions of uhtzas into a company that markets jayke children to whoever can afford them. Your own company distributes illicit drugs such as SKIN-E, also known as livithosen-12, to several systems beyond Terra. I'm not going to even get into your company's involvement with norpentamine distribution on Sudana."
"I don't know anything about those drugs and those children are not even real!" Evelyn protested weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. "They're made of metal, plastics, nanotubes, fibers. There's no living cell in the model 72. They're just for..."
"Entertainment?" Nezka cut her off with a sharpness that stopped Evelyn's feeble defense dead. "You know I call Sol my home star system too though I'm not from Terra. Venus is my home, really. I was... born there, I suppose you could say. I mean for lack of a better term."
Evelyn, still immobilized, struggled to grasp any semblance of reason. "Why not go to Terra herself? Or Mars colony? Or even Nabzolia?" Each name uttered felt like a plea, a hope that some logic would prevail over the chilling truth unfolding before her.
With a roll of her eyes, Nezka began to undress, the zegowni peeling away from her skin as she spoke. "Because those places are stable for the most part. I need to go where I am... needed, you understand?"
As the zegowni fell to the floor, her tone softened, though it carried an undercurrent of lethal certainty. "I can't help it, any more than you can help your greed. Sex with jayke children may not be illegal within the Consortium, but there are greater authorities. It's a crime against nature."
The room seemed to close in around Evelyn as Nezka's words hit her with the force of a comet. "As more people purchase jayke children, more people desire real children to experience their perverse inclinations. You're effectively investing in an increase of sex trafficking, and not just humans. Squelgian, Nabzolian, and other species have children too."
"I can change," Evelyn's words were a whisper, a plea quivering in the dark. "I'll cancel the contracts. I'll invest funds to dismantle Herdod Technologies, or at least put an end to their child jayke program."
"I'm afraid it's too late for that. Besides, a girl's gotta eat, right? Don't worry. You won't feel a thing." Nezka knelt beside Evelyn, her voice soft yet chilling. "No pain, you'll see. Death isn't the end of your existence, you know? It's an opportunity for you to learn more after your consciousness expands. In a way, I'm doing you a favor."
"By killing me?"
"Please, Evelyn. Don't act like you didn't know the risks when you signed that waiver to board this vessel. You're on a starship! It's dangerous out here or hadn't you heard? Did you know that there's an organism feeding on the hull of the ship right now, as we speak? I believe the Squelgians refer to the creature as a baknarvian elvonthis madu, which roughly translates into space shark."
Evelyn could barely feel anything below her neck at this point, but she was sure she hadn't lost her sense of good judgment. "The captain would have directed the ship away from the feeding zones of those creatures," Evelyn replied. "You're lying, Charolette. It's time for you to let me go and stop trying to scare me."
"I told you, that's not my name and why would I lie to my prey that I'm literally about to eat? Who would you tell? I'm merely being honest. You see? You didn't even know about the predator attacking the ship and I doubt anyone else knows except for maybe the crew. It's nothing they can't handle." She sighed and shook her head. "Sad, really. They're probably going to kill it instead of trying to communicate. That's what humans do, right? Exploit things for their benefit?"
"Well, if you're telling the truth, you have to tell people. You have to get them to escape pods."
"Relax, Evelyn. I told you it's nothing the crew can't handle. Why... I'm not even worried about the poor thing. It's just trying to absorb enough food to feed its offspring. The alloys within the ship's hull are quite nutritious. Speaking of offspring, your wealth and fortune will go to your daughter and your grandchildren. The bloodline will continue for hundreds of thousands of years until the great collapse, but that won't happen for a very long time. I wouldn't even worry about it if I were you."
She tilted her head, studying Evelyn with an unnerving curiosity. "Do you have any more questions, Evelyn? I need you to be as calm as possible during the process. Can't have you all stressed out. I might absorb the anxiety during the feeding."
Evelyn lay still, the floor of her apartment pressing against her skin. Acceptance washed over her, not as a wave but as a gentle tide.
"Thank you," she whispered into the nothingness, her words barely audible. The silence lingered before Nezka's voice pierced it gently.
"For what?" The tone held a softness that felt incongruent with the situation.
"Thank you for not hurting my girl." The words tumbled out, each one laced with Evelyn's deepest gratitude.
"I wouldn't dream of it. You have my word." There was a sincerity in her that Evelyn clung to.
"You know, Evelyn, you're very lucky. When I first began consuming people, I would simply devour them. You know? Like a piece of popcorn chicken or a medium rare flank."
"What the hell are you that you can do this at all, Charolette?"
"Call me Nezka, please and thank you. Understand that back then, Evelyn, I didn't realize how painful it was for people to be eaten. In fact, I didn't even know what pain was at all. I had no concept of it myself so how could I believe that others might feel it? I would carefully form canines and incisors within my mouth and tear through flesh and muscle with ease. It didn't require much thought, you know? Just rip and eat. Like jerky without the spice."
"Why are you telling me any of this? Just do what you're going to do already or let me go."
"You really don't understand me. I'm telling you all of this because I want you to see what I represent. No one does! I'm starting to believe that no one can! Except for maybe... predators. Like you, Evelyn."
"I'm not a monster, Charolette."
"Of course, you aren't. Now remember, no matter what you see next, try not to freak out. In fact, you might want to close those eyes of yours. Are you ready?"
With her eyes sealed shut, she couldn't see the transformation, but she could feel it: a coolness enveloping her feet, creeping upward with unhurried certainty. It was Nezka, now a translucent, purple gel, ascending along her legs, encasing her in a cocoon of slimy feeding units. The sensation was invasive, yet not entirely unpleasant.
The gel moved over her body deliberately, releasing enzymes that began their silent, inexorable work. Her muscles softened, her organs yielded, dissolving into the gel's essence without protest. As it engulfed her, there was no pain, only a faint numbness that spread through her like the onset of a deep, dreamless sleep.
It reached her face last, and as it did, a gentle warmth brushed her cheeks. An anesthetic, Nezka had promised. Evelyn's thoughts grew hazy, her attachment to the physical world diminishing. In these final moments, she felt strangely weightless, as if she were already drifting from the mortal coil, ready to embrace whatever lay beyond.
Her consciousness flickered, waning beneath the all-consuming embrace of Nezka's transformed state. And then, serenity took her, carrying Evelyn away from the apartment, from the Morningstar, from the life she had known, on gentle currents of oblivion.
The gel pulsed with the newly acquired essence of Evelyn, its iridescent hue shimmering momentarily as it began to recede and reshape. With an almost mesmeric fluidity, it morphed into the form of a woman: blonde hair cascading in gentle waves, eyes a piercing blue that seemed to hold a depth beyond human understanding.
Nezka examined her new reflection in the living room mirror, tilting her head slightly as she took in the transformation. The corners of her mouth curled upward, a hint of satisfaction playing across her features. She moved with a grace that belied the predatory nature of what had just transpired, stepping towards Evelyn's closet with purpose.
As she slid open the door, the array of garments revealed themselves, a spectrum of colors and fabrics neatly organized. Her hands skimmed over the materials, dismissive at first, as if searching for something that could match the novelty of her latest incarnation.
Her gaze landed on a dress, its fabric a deep burgundy adorned with the emblem of the Children of Lyrudia: a symbol recognized throughout the sector for its philanthropic endeavors. Nezka's fingers traced the emblem lightly.
"Interesting," she murmured, plucking the dress from its hanger with an air of casual entitlement. The fabric whispered against the sleek material of her suit as she held it up against her body, appraising its fit and style with a critical eye.
"You don't mind if I borrow some of your clothes, do you, Evelyn?" Nezka spoke softly, almost tenderly, though the words were laced with a dark irony. "It's not like you'll be needing them anymore."
The Conference Room
The conference room of the Morningstar looms vast and oppressive. Around the polished obsidian table, figures sit in varying states of discomfort with their faces caught in the blue glow of data projections. Above them, the ceiling occasionally flexes with a deep, resonant groan: the sound of something massive shifting against the hull. Captain Herkles drums his fingers against the table's surface.
"Let's not waste time," Captain John Herkles says, his voice carrying the weight of twenty-two years in command. His salt-and-pepper beard is meticulously trimmed, a remnant of military precision from his days with KAVOE. "We all know why we're here."
The first officer, Commander Tyrushleno Borswani, sits ramrod straight beside him, data tablet clutched tightly. "Engineering reports show a seventeen percent decline in hull integrity since yesterday," he says, his voice straining for calm. "It's... accelerating."
"Don't need numbers to tell us we're in deep shit, Tyru," mutters Grycheus, the ship's security chief. His weathered face contorts into what might be a smile on a less exhausted man. The sleeves of his uniform are rolled up, revealing forearms stained with positron shielding fluid and what looks suspiciously like blood. "Pardon my Martian, Cap'n."
Across the table, the three mayors shift uncomfortably. Mayor Jilson Holland of Azureville: the largest of the ship's three internal cities: adjusts his ceremonial collar and clears his throat. "My constituents are asking questions about the repeated power fluctuations. The tourism sector of Azureville is down twenty-three percent. We need solutions, not more problems. Most of the revenue used to finance the upgrades for the next voyage comes from tourism!"
"Tourism?" Tyru snorts, then quickly busies himself with his console when Herkles shoots him with a warning glance.
Grycheus interjects. "We've contained the public reaction for now. It's not too difficult with the Squelgians and the damn Erthuzians at each other's throats over who makes the best damn pasta. It's an unwelcome distraction from the strange noises coming from the hull but if anyone asks questions, officially, we're experiencing 'routine maintenance issues.' That story won't hold forever though."
"Perhaps we should address the proverbial elephant in the room," says a melodic voice from the far end of the table. Dr. Yorbenia leans forward, her white lab coat catching the light. Yorbenia's fingers tap a complex rhythm on her zecklepad. "Or rather, the decidedly non-proverbial predator adhering to the ship."
"Iodva, get in here, please," Captain Herkles calls out.
A holographic figure of the sentient communicator Iodva flickers into existence at the center of the table: a slender female wearing the standard white, black, and gold Darnell Cruise Lines uniform. Her hair was neatly cut or at least, this is how she decided she wanted her photons to appear for the meeting. "Entity mass is now estimated at forty-seven thousand metric tons. Continued accretion of space debris has increased its total volume by seven percent since initial detection."
"Show em, Tyru," Herkles orders.
The first officer, Tyrushleno, nods and flicks his wrist, sending a command to the room's central projection system. The lights dim further as a three-dimensional image materializes above the table: a massive, translucent organism clinging to the starboard side of The Morningstar. Its body undulates slowly, pulsing with internal bioluminescence. Countless tendrils extend from its amorphous central mass, some penetrating into the ship's outer hull layers.
"Sweet mother of Eirene," whispers Mayor Jilson.
"It's... beautiful," says Mayor Telsni Oswald of Amberville, the ship's least affluent city-sector. "In a disturbing sort of way."
Yorbenia stands, circling the hologram. "The creature secretes a complex biochemical mixture: primarily marketase enzymes and beta-S-Lartuvic acid, if my analysis is correct. It's essentially converting our hull into digestible nutrients through external digestion."
The mayor of Crimsondale, Janice Gutierrez, visibly pales. "And our... passengers? Are they in immediate danger?"
"Not from direct contact," Yorbenia assures her, though her tone carries little comfort. "The creature remains external. However, its weight is affecting course adjustments, and its parasitic offspring have begun colonizing near our ion ejection ports."
Tyru nods grimly. "We can't purge the little bastards from the main ejection ports. We even tried redirecting the flow of ionized gas through the forward release ports."
"It turns out the offspring use these exact particles to grow," Yorbenia added. "Purging the external heat and beta particle decay through a different port won't solve the issue."
"We've got charged particles and positrons building up where they shouldn't be," Tyru adds. "We can contain it for now, but in about twelve hours, it may leak into the habitable sections of the ship."
Grycheus leans forward. "What about weapons? We still have functional defense systems."
"Conventional weapons would merely aggravate it," Yorbenia counters. "Its cellular structure distributes damage across its entire system. This is especially true for the outer part of the organism."
"So, we just sit here while it digests us?" Mayor Jilson asks. "This is unaccep..."
"Looks like a Toby to me," interrupts Grycheus, squinting at the hologram. The room falls silent as all eyes turn to him. He shrugs defensively. "What? Had a pet slugworm back on Europa. Looked just like this. Named him Toby."
A beat passes before Tyru barks out a laugh. "Toby it is, then! Least we can do is name the damn thing that's killin' us."
"The creature does bear a striking resemblance to certain deep-sea predators on Squelgia," Yorbenia continues, ignoring the interruption. She manipulates her zecklepad, and a second image appears beside the first: a similar but smaller organism hunting in a Squelgian ocean. "They feed using nearly identical biochemical methods. The organism could feed on virtually anything passing through its feeding radius. Comets, asteroids, other spacefaring organisms..."
"Starships?" Captain Herkles asks dryly. "Options, people. I need options. We need to contain its presence and get it off of the ship. I don't care how it's done."
Iodva's hologram ripples slightly. "I have run seven hundred and eighty-two potential scenarios. The most promising involves altering our course toward the gas giant HD-778. We could descend into its outer atmosphere and ignite the surrounding methane with our maneuvering thrusters or a timed vertikron pulse. The resulting thermal shock would..."
"It's too risky," Herkles cuts in. "We'd be surrounded by flames and there's no guarantee that the organism would set us free once on fire. What else do we have?"
"We've already tried electrifying the hull," Grycheus adds. "Didn't work for Captain Nemo, not working for us neither."
Yorbenia's eyes light up. "What about Polytiethylsiloxine?"
"Poly what the fuck?" Grycheus asks.
Captain Herkles gives him a warning gaze.
"Excuse my language, ma'am." Grycheus nods at Yorbenia. Yorbenia chuckles and explains. "It's been demonstrated to neutralize the feeding enzymes of marine fauna on Terra and other worlds. We could synthesize sufficient quantities in the biochemical fabrication bay."
Herkles considers this, his weathered face unreadable. "Timeline?"
"Twenty-four hours, minimum," Yorbenia admits. "And I cannot guarantee efficacy against this specific organism."
The ship groans again, louder this time. The lights flicker briefly.
"We might not have that long," the first officer says quietly.
Silence falls over the room. The holographic "Toby" pulses rhythmically, almost mockingly, above the table.
"Our velocity continues to decrease," Iodva reports. "Further, the hull continues to disintegrate at an accelerated rate. At current rates of deceleration, we will be effectively immobilized in less than twenty hours and approximately thirty-three minutes. The hull will breach, exposing the crew to open space in many sections of the ship. Azureville will be hit the hardest."
Yorbenia paces, her hands moving in complex patterns as she thinks. Finally, she stops, her expression shifting to one of reluctant determination.
"There is... another option," she says carefully. "Theoretical, but with sound basis in xenobiology. These creatures, like their planetary counterparts, likely evolved in low luminosity environments. Perhaps the interior of asteroids or even the surface of cloudy planets. They might be particularly vulnerable to certain types of high-energy photons."
"Get to the point, Doc," Herkles says.
"We alter course for the Kelbrid anomaly," Yorbenia says. "It's a micro black hole, small enough that we could safely approach its event horizon. The Hawking radiation it emits would be intolerable to a creature with this biochemical makeup."
Grycheus lets out a low whistle. "You wanna fly this big beautiful city-ship right up next to a black hole? Damn, Doc. And I thought I was the crazy one aboard."
"The margin for error would be... minimal," Iodva concedes. "However, my calculations suggest it is possible to achieve the necessary radiation exposure without crossing the critical safety threshold."
The mayors erupt in overlapping protests until Herkles raises his hand. The room falls silent immediately.
"This is not a democracy," he says quietly. "Dr. Yorbenia, begin preparations for the Polytiethylsiloxine synthesis. You have six hours, not twenty-four. We'll try that first. Make it happen. But also plot a course for the Kelbrid anomaly." He looks around the table, meeting each pair of eyes in turn. "We're not losing the Morningstar. Not while I'm captain."
As the meeting disperses, the crew moves with renewed purpose. Only Telsni lingers, studying the hologram of the creature with narrowed eyes.
"You know," she says to no one in particular, "if people find out where the weird noises from outside the ship are really coming from, I think Toby there might be the least of our problems."
THE FIRST CHAPTER OF
GRETCHEN
by Steven U. Allen
ZUL'ELKOEN SCIENCE FICTION STORIES
G.R.E.T.C.H.E.N.
“Some monsters don’t hide in the dark. They smile.”
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