“Are we ready to reboot?” Samara asked, checking with the others.

“Checking the directory... file transfer protocol has finished loading the required folders, core identity is tied into the Input/Output system, peripherals are engaged and online.” Xeno nodded as he double-checked the system from his modified terminal. “We are ready.”

“All right then, load the program,” she replied, as the systems were powered up and installed. Samara watched as the memory usage climbed sharply, topping out at just over one hundred yottaflops as the system finished its integration, and came online.

“All systems appear to be functioning within specified guidelines,” Rook reported, appearing within the monitor, before managing a shudder. “Let’s never do that again.”

“Welcome back,” she smiled. “How does it feel to be among the land of the living?”

“I will tell you in a moment,” the Avatar sniffed, “performing systems check.” The image froze as diagnostic screens began appearing on the other displays, only to disappear moments later as his likeness turned and glared at her. “What have you done to my ship?” he screeched.

“The mission didn’t go like we’d hoped,” she sighed. “We escaped, but not without taking damage.”

“You realize this is far beyond my ability to repair?” he demanded. “And given our current hostilities with the Troika and what happened at Star’s End, finding acceptable drydock facilities may well be impossible.”

“We’re working on it,” she explained. “Xeno is checking his contacts.”

“There is a simpler option,” he replied. “There are several locations available to us among the Kikush worlds.”

“And admit defeat?” Samara chuckled. “I thought going back meant acknowledging you weren’t up to the challenge, not to mention all the penalties attached to that decision.”

“I agree, it is not the optimal choice,” Rook admitted, now looking chagrined. “But if it means deciding between the completion of our mission and a dismal end in the depths of space, that simplifies matters considerably.”

“I don’t think we’re there yet,” she pointed out. “Give us some time to consider the alternatives before you decide to head for home.”

“I currently have one or two promising leads,” Xeno informed him. “I should have better information within the next few days.”

“Very well,” the Avatar reluctantly agreed, “I can put that time to use and begin repairing those systems I’m able to restore.”

“Sounds good,” Samara nodded. “In the meantime, I’m going to get some rest. Unlike some people, I’ve been conscious the last couple days,” she said with a weary smile, before trundling off to her cabin.

It was several hours later when she awoke, touching the light switch beside her as she sat up. Something had intruded during her sleep, but now as she rubbed her eyes and peered around the compartment, she could see no sign of it. Sliding off the bed, she padded over to the hatch, thinking to check in on the others and maybe grab something from the galley.

The door refused to budge.

Her brow furrowed as she pressed the override. Again, nothing. Swallowing a curse, she went to the monitor. “Rook, the hatch isn’t working in my cabin,” she explained. “Can you open it?”

The display came to life as the alien gazed out at her. “Can? Yes. Will? No,” he informed her.

“Damn it, what is it now?” she snapped. “Do we really have to do this again?”

“We had an arrangement, Samara of Earth,” he said, his tones belying barely controlled fury. “All information regarding the technology recovered at Star’s End was to be shared equally.” His eyes narrowed. “You have broken that covenant.”

Alarms went off in her head as she fought to hide her emotions. “What the hell are you talking about?” she demanded.

“Did you really think I would allow myself to be placed in suspension, without some form of protection?” he asked her. “Without having a method at my disposal allowing me to know everything that transpired during my slumber...even if you and the other humans attempted to conceal them?” He glared at her. “You thought you had deleted the relevant files, but you did not find them all.”

Samara winced, before shrugging in defeat. There seemed little point in lying about it now. “Alright, you caught us,” she said at last. “What do you want to make it right?”

“From you? Nothing,” he answered. “You and the others will remain locked in your cabins until we arrive at our destination.”

“Look, there’s no need for this,” she said, trying to placate him. “You want to head back to the Kikush? Fine. Maybe it was nobody’s first choice, but the ship is pretty banged up. Maybe it even makes sense. Only there’s no reason to treat us like prisoners.”

“You already are a prisoner, Samara, or had you forgotten that?” he sneered. “We had certain agreements regarding your parole, which you have repeatedly violated. I allowed you a certain amount of latitude so we might strike back at the Troika, but now I see your race is unworthy of our trust.”

“Now wait just a minute…” she snarled, only to be cut off.

“Not this time,” he threw back at her. “I told you there would be penalties if you double-crossed me, and yet you did so anyway, blackmailing me with your so-called ‘Mutually Assured Destruction’ philosophy. Not any longer.” A wintry smile graced his features. “I have flooded the other cabins with anesthetizing agents, ensuring they will remain unconscious until we arrive at our destination.”

She shook her head. “Won’t work, I’m afraid. It’s a long way to your homeworld, too long to travel with people being gassed and have them arrive in one piece. They’ll need food, water, hygiene…”

“All of that might be true,” Rook replied, “if we were returning to the Kikush.”

An icy sensation settled into the pit of her stomach. “Where are you taking us, Rook?” she asked.

He cocked his head as he contemplated her. “Back to At’sah,” he said finally.

“What?” she shrieked. “Why? I thought we had a common enemy!”

“We did... to a point,” he explained. “While removing, or at least knocking back the Troika would have been the ideal outcome, we recognized the possibility of that occurring to be vanishingly small. The leaders of my world and I agreed that if we found ourselves in an untenable position, we would then explore other options.”

The reality of his words hit her like a gut punch. “You’re switching sides,” she said in horror. “For God’s sake, why?”

“Because I am a patriot, Samara of Earth, like you,” he said coolly. “And if I cannot defeat my enemy, I must then make accommodations to secure the best position I can for my people. Handing you over will do that.”

“And when they realize your hands are just as dirty as mine?” she reminded him. “When they compare notes with the rest of the Troika, assuming they haven’t already, and recognize you’ve been an active, willing participant from the start?” A grim smile appeared on her face. “They’ll destroy you.”

“Were I to simply give you to them, that might be a genuine possibility,” he conceded, before appearing to lean in closer to the camera. “However, once I include what must be a piece of Precursor technology and the documentation I’ve gathered showing you using it, I suspect we will come to a generous agreement.”

Samara froze in shock. “Rook, you can’t,” she whispered. “Do you have any idea what kind of weapon you’d be giving them? What kind of power?” She could only stare in disbelief. “You’ll make them a hundred times stronger than they already are... a thousand. We’ll never be free of them!”

“You brought this on yourself,” he chided her. “Had you abided by our contract; we would not be here. Besides,” he shrugged, “there was never any real chance of us defeating the Troika. It was a fool’s errand.”

“One of us is a fool,” she snapped. “So that’s it then? You’ll turn us over, along with the device, and reap the benefits?” She shook her head. “Somehow, I doubt it will be that easy.”

“Terrans,” he hissed, “you are all little more than ignorant children, interfering where you do not belong.”

Samara’s hands clenched into fists. “I can’t let you do this,” she said softly.

“I fail to see how you can stop me,” he replied, his grin now something fierce.

The Protean said nothing in return. She merely bowed her head and changed.

Altering one’s form is a complex process. Many factors come into play, which is why it’s simpler to choose something close to your own baseline. The farther removed from that, the more difficult the shift becomes. Human forms are easier than non-human, and the less humanoid an alien race is, the harder the transformation becomes. Which is why Samara had never attempted shapeshifting into an Ak’haadda... until now.

The Ak’haadda were an unusual species, even when measured against the myriad of races inhabiting the Perseus Arm. The product of a high-gravity world, over three and a half times what was normal for humans, had led to some rather unique adaptations as life emerged. Perhaps strangest of all was that unlike almost all other known species in the galaxy, they were a silicon lifeform, as opposed to carbon. This gave them the strength and durability necessary for such a harsh environment, but the dense gravity and atmosphere had also trapped them on their homeworld. Like Humanity itself, it was the intervention of the Oivu that allowed them to leave the surface and explore the stars.

But when they realized just how different they were from the other races; the allure of exploration quickly lost its shine. They had retreated to their homeworld, and now few were found elsewhere; a handful of traders, the occasional diplomat, and a small but rugged group that exploited their ability to work under conditions that would kill most other races in order to earn themselves profit. Despite their roughly humanoid appearance... two arms, two legs, a head and torso... their chemistry and physiology were alien to humanity in ways that defied imagination. Their teeth were quartz analogs, their eyes more closely related to rubies than anything else, and their sheer mass made transforming into one perhaps the ultimate challenge. If she hadn’t been exposed to a sample of Ak’haadda flesh during her training, she wouldn’t have made the attempt at all.

Just where they’d obtained that sample, she hadn’t asked.

Her flesh thickened and grayed while her form grew squat and heavy, her clenched fists swelling into something more closely resembling battering rams. It took every gram of concentration she had to pull it off, and even then, her hold on the new form was tenuous. If she attempted anything too complex, it would yank her attention away from the effort and trigger a reversion back to her normal anatomy. Thankfully, she was keeping things simple.

All she was planning was smashing the hatch.

Her first blow left a sizable dent in the metal doorway, quickly followed by others as she grimly bashed her way through the hatch. “Stop! What are you doing?” Rook shouted, but she paid the alien no mind. He’d forfeited any rights he might have once held in her eyes the moment he betrayed them. Slowly the hatch deformed, giving way under the hammer blows until it finally popped free of its track and clanged to the deck in a clatter. Samara’s gem-like eyes scanned the corridor before deciding on her next move, again, keeping it simple. Going after Rook’s hardware in this body was problematic, requiring far too much focus to allow her to keep the shape.

As luck would have it, however, she knew someone who could pull it off with just a thought.

Samara turned and lumbered down the hallway to Gideon’s cabin, her head cocking in calculation as she heard the high-pitched hiss of the gas jets opening up. It seemed Rook was trying to knock her out like the others, though it was a foolish move on his part. She was resistant to most sedatives and anesthetics in her normal body, but as an Ak’haadda? The alien body chemistry easily shrugged it off.

As she rounded a corner, she discovered it wasn’t the only trick up his virtual sleeve. He’d blocked the corridor with maintenance drones.

At first, she thought he’d placed them there as a barrier, but as she drew closer Samara realized that several of them carried tools; tools they now held out like weapons as they whirred to life and advanced en masse. Again, she didn't try coming up with a complicated strategy, instead merely raising her blocky fists as she began smashing the drones down one by one.

The battle, sadly, was not one-sided.

A cutting torch bit deeply into her flesh before she could rip the manipulator arms from its body and use them as a club. She almost lost her grip then, but somehow, perhaps out of sheer desperation, she held on. Samara twisted her blocky body aside at the last second, barely avoiding another drone armed with a boring tool, earning her a long furrow down her side. That machine also joined its shattered brethren, but they were coming harder and faster now as Rook spent their mechanical lives like water in his desperate bid for survival. The attacks drove her to her knees, as she struggled to maintain her form against the now surmounting odds.

In the end, there was simply one blow too many.

Her control shattered as they drove her face down to the deck, her body rippling as her original form began reasserting itself. Samara threw back her head and screamed as the wounds appeared on her body, howling in agony moments before she finally lost consciousness and collapsed before the mechanical mob.

…

…Connection Established...