Chapter Text
The ship is huge.
Objectively, SEEDS Ship Three is huge, one of the largest ever built by humankind.
It doesn't feel very huge with nearly the entire crew huddled under the windows on the observation deck and gaping in silent, terrified awe at the Behemoth floating outside.
There is one pervasive thought echoing in the air yet still unspoken. This is no human construction. It is the first alien spacecraft ever discovered and it is drifting placidly alongside them as if it hasn't just realigned humanity's entire knowledge of the universe.
Next to Luida, Brad slowly raises a walkie and weakly presses the button to contact the crew in Communications.
“Any response to attempted contact with this thing?” he asks, tone flat and detached with the blank shock everyone is feeling.
“Negative. No responses on any frequency.”
Silence prevails for another while before Brad speaks again. “So,” he murmurs faintly. “...we board it?”
Luida swallows, hoping that no radio response means there's no alien presence on board and not that they're about to die being mistaken for space pirates.
“Yeah,” she croaks. “We board it.”
—-
Objectively - and God does Luida already feel like she's using that word far too much - this is a large part of what the SEEDS expedition is for.
They are the most advanced fleet of spacecraft ever made, capable of going farther, longer and faster than any human expedition before in the hopes of discovering anything and everything new. They're out here to expand their knowledge and understanding of space and the mysteries it contains. Of course the first thing on everyone's minds is the possibility of advanced alien life, as likely as that may or may not be.
Knowing that and experiencing it are so very, very different.
“This is a terrible idea,” Brad grumbles over their commlink as they find and dock their small tender ship at an entrance it took them forever to find on the foreign crafts hull. “We're going to die. This is the dumbest shit we've ever done, Lu.”
“Yes, thank you Brad,” Luida replies tightly, making sure their systems read that they're effectively docked and can exit without their little ship drifting away and leaving them trapped. “You're really helping my morale here.”
“I'll be here all week,” his voice crackles in her helmet. “Or for the next five minutes at least, which is how long I expect to last upon-”
“Brad.”
“Sorry,” he murmurs, contrite. She gets it, she does. He's just coping with the same nerves she is. If they didn't have their own ways of trying to compartmentalize it they'd never be able to make themselves open the hatch to the tender and enter uncharted territory.
They do.
When they first step into the foreign ship properly, Luida could almost swear she's on a human construction after all.
The hall looks so…normal. Walls and floors made of some kind of metal, visible doorways and strange but recognizable locks and keypads. It's bright and sterile and only just strange enough not to pass for something terrestrial.
“Well,” Brad whispers, voice tinny through the speakers in their protective suits despite standing right beside her. “At least the lights are on-”
There's a sound like a circuit breaker powering off and they're plunged into darkness. The hair on the back of Luida's neck rises for more reasons than one.
It takes several seconds before either one of them can get past the prey instinct to freeze for long enough to switch their flashlights on.
Suddenly the hall does not seem so normal, every shadow being transformed in the mind's eye into something that could be a hulking, lurking monster in the dark.
“That,” Luida breathes. “...was too convenient.”
Brad makes a barely audible grunt of agreement.
No words are needed for them both to unholster their sidearms. If something just intentionally plunged them Into darkness, it could also intend to attack them.
They might deserve it, considering they're the ones intruding. Still, neither one of them wants to die today.
Very slowly they work their way down the first hall. It's only the two of them for this, with explicit instructions to book it to the tender and jump ship if anything goes wrong. This is a procedure already established on the off chance something like this happened - an initial team of two to ascertain safety.
They should probably already be leaving just by virtue of the lights being turned off, but curiosity truly is humanity's most dangerous trait.
Luida and Brad peek into rooms and traverse hall after hall for what feels like an eternity. There's a pervasive feeling of eyes on the back of Luida’s neck the whole time which she tries to tell herself is paranoia. At least until Brad speaks up in a quiet murmur.
“...you been feeling like you're being watched this whole time?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I have.”
“Oh, good. And here I was hoping I was just going crazy.”
The feeling follows them wherever they go, down flights of stairs and through winding hallways. It's hard to focus on anything but the sheer intensity of how watched they feel until they turn a corner and see what can only be described as a glow.
There's a massive set of doors a way down this new hallway, big like those of an aircraft hanger. The glow of light spills into the hallway from the inside, a serene aquamarine hue.
Once again they find themselves frozen and staring at it. Luida is almost afraid to find out what's making the light. She's also rabidly curious. She has to know, and she knows Brad well enough to know he's in the same boat.
They creep along with equal parts caution and excitement, everything laced through with fear of the unknown.
What they find when they peer around the edges of the door and into the monumental room beyond is awe inspiring.
“Holy shit,” Brad breathes. “What the fuck is this?”
Luida doesn't know. Her feet carry her inside without her conscious consent, gaping in wonder.
The room goes back almost as far as she can see, though she faintly sees another doorway at the very end. The curved walls are lined from floor to ceiling with massive glass bulbs housing…she doesn't know. She doesn't know what they are, but they're giving off the blue glow.
The lights are just as off in here as everywhere else, it's just that the things in the containers give off enough light that it's easy to see the catwalk through the center of the space.
Luida holsters her gun, raising shaky hands to remove her helmet.
“Wh- Luida!” Brad hisses. “Are you crazy? What are you-”
“Look at your data pad,” she murmurs, lowering her helmet and clipping it blindly to the belt of her suit. “The atmosphere here is fine for us. It was one of the first things I checked. I want to see them without the visor in the way…”
They're beautiful. That's the one thing about them Luida is certain of. Each glass bulb holds something huge and luminous shaped almost like the bulb of a flower before it blooms. There are patterns on the ‘petals’ that speak to the kind of art only nature can make.
Whatever these things are, they hum with energy and they look organic.
“They almost look like plants, don't you think?” she asks as she takes careful steps towards the railing in front of the closest bulb.
“Yeah, I guess,” Brad grumbles. Luida can tell by the sound of his voice that he's removed his helmet too. “There's so many. What do you think they're for? Hey- hey, don't do that!”
Luida ignores him and gently lays the palm of her hand against the bulb with the thing inside, secretly heaving a sigh of relief that touching it doesn't electrocute her or something.
It's warm. She can feel the hum of it through the glass, a gentle vibration. It kind of feels like the humming of a power cell.
Oh.
“I think they might be-”
The sound of a clang and clatter somewhere high above freezes her mid sentence. Suddenly, she remembers they're not alone on this ship. That they've both felt the eyes.
“Luida,” Brad whispers. “Back up very slowly and look up.”
She swallows the lump of panic in her throat and does exactly that. She's not sure she's ever moved as slowly as she does backing away from the bulb and craning her head back, or fought as hard not to cry out in fear as she does when she spots them.
At the top of the chamber there are additional walkways overlooking the whole room. It's too dark to see anything up there clearly, but she can see the shining orbs of light staring down at them.
It looks just like seeing a cat's eyes reflect in the dark. Four of them just frozen there and looking back at the humans below. It feels like whatever those four eyes belong to didn't mean to make a sound and is now stuck in the same tense staring contest as Luida and Brad.
The lights stay so unmoving for so long that Luida starts to wonder if they're eyes at all. Slowly, she lets out a breath that can't rid her of all of her tension.
“...lights,” she whispers. “I think they're just lights on some kind of equipment up th-”
All four eyes blink at the same time. She bites back a scream by the skin of her teeth, reaching for Brad's arm at the same time he reaches for hers.
Okay. Okay okay okay. There are procedures for this, she reminds herself. We expected this might happen some day. Keep calm. Breathe. Don't panic, don't look scared or angry. This is important. This is first contact.
“H…” her voice comes out tiny and hoarse at first, and Luida flinches at already messing up. The second try is better. Her voice rings out in a tone she hopes is calm and soothing. “Hello?”
The call finally breaks the standoff. Whatever blinked at them from up there vocalizes an odd chirping cry and flees, the sound of feet pounding down the walkway as fast as they can go almost deafening after the prolonged quiet.
It's at least a quadruped, from the sound of it.
In no time it's disappeared entirely. It ran away.
“Jesus Christ!” Brad bursts out, voice strained from holding his breath. “I thought we were fucking dead.”
“Me too,” Luida admits. “But…that's promising, isn't it? It's scared of us too. It's first instinct is to run, not attack. If we can just try to keep it from feeling threatened…”
Any cornered animal will lash out. Making sure it doesn't think it needs to hurt them will have to be a priority if they don't want to find out what kind of damage it can do.
“So we leave.”
“What?” Luida yelps, turning around. She fixes him with a look of pure disbelief. “We leave? ”
Brad gapes at her. “Of course we leave! There's a thing on this ship that just left us with life and limb intact, we leave before that changes!”
“Brad,” Luida stresses. “This place was not made by humans. Whatever made this has to be at least as intelligent as us! This is the stuff of science fiction dreams! Whatever that was, it was probably part of whatever race made this incredible ship. We have to make contact! What if we leave and it just- just- boosts out of here never to be seen again? Can you even fathom what a loss that would be?”
Brad scoffs and huffs, face flushed because he knows she's right and he's embarrassed she's being so much braver - or dumber - than he is. “I'd rather lose the aliens than my life.”
It's just complaining for the sake of complaining, Luida knows. It would be both their careers at stake too - if people knew they let such an opportunity for contact with the only intelligent alien species ever discovered go to waste…
“Come on,” she prods gently. “Let's just take one step at a time and keep looking around. It went that way, and there's a smaller door at that end. We'll go through and see if we can't find a way up to the next floor. The top walkways probably come out on the next floor up.”
They make their way through the hangar-like room gaping at the bulbs and their contents the whole way through. Luida keeps her eyes open, but doesn't see the eyes again before they reach the door on the other side. It seems like the creature really did flee the room.
Being plunged back into the darkness of the halls beyond what Luida is thinking of as the plant room is far more daunting now that they've seen proof they're being watched. Tailed.
The feeling returns almost immediately, but Luida can't see hide nor hair of their watcher no matter how hard she looks.
The first glimpse she gets of it comes when they find a room that could not more clearly be a kitchen. It shouldn't be shocking - of course any living thing needs to eat, and any intelligent life form would make a designated space for it. Still, it inspires awe to be reminded of just how advanced the makers of this ship are. They cook and eat together, just like humans.
Suddenly, the feeling of being watched intensifies greatly. Luida is certain she sees something out of the corner of her eye, peeking around the edge of the doorway at them. It sends chills down her spine, but she takes a few deep breaths and steels her nerves.
As soon as she turns her head to look, the creature makes a sound uncannily like a gasp and darts back out of sight, the pitter patter of feet being what alerts Brad to the fact that it was there at all.
“Fuck! What- it was here?!”
Luida nods, pulse racing. “It- it was peeking around the doorway. It ran when I turned to look at it.”
All she'd managed to see was the shine of one eye peering around the corner and the pretty curves of some kind of bioluminescent markings. She'd had to look down at it.
“It's only a little thing,” she muses softly. “It couldn't have been taller than five feet.”
Brad grunts, brow furrowed. “You know what were even smaller than that? Face huggers. That's what.”
Luida groans and rolls her eyes, but under the circumstances she can't deny the sentiment is a little unsettling. Movie creatures or no, he kind of has a point.
“Come on,” she says anyway. “It went down that way.”
Brad shakes his head, but he still follows.
Whatever it is, the creature is fast. There's no trace of it down the hall, and they can only guess what direction it ended up going in. Luida thinks their best shot is probably to wait for it to loop back around and start watching them again - for now it seems to have been genuinely spooked off.
“Hall splits here,” Brad murmurs gruffly. “What do you want to do?”
Luida hums, weighing their options. “It probably intersects at some point again. Why don't you go to the right and I go to the left - if they don't reconvene within five minutes we turn around and meet back here?”
“It's a terrible idea and I hate it. Scream if you're being eaten,” Brad tells her, heading to the right.
“Will do,” she replies, drifting down the left path.
The dark halls seem infinitely more frightening when she's alone, not even Brad's dry, fatalistic humor to distract her. She's waiting with cold sweat on her neck to feel the watching eyes return the whole time, every minute that passes without it winding her up tighter.
After what feels like an eternity of walking with only the beam of her flashlight and her own pulse thundering in her ears, something makes her freeze.
It's not the watched feeling. It's a sound.
Luida stays as still as possible, certain as the seconds pass that she's hearing something move down the next turn.
Footsteps, she thinks. Footsteps that sound like they're sneaking, and then stunningly enough? A small voice.
“Nai…?”
Luida's heart jumps with equal parts fear and wonder. The enormity of what she just heard is not lost on her. As far as she can tell, this makes her the first human being to hear alien speech.
The careful footsteps are coming closer, and Luida starts to move as quietly as possible towards the bend Unless one of them turns around, they have to meet here. It feels better to move towards it instead of standing in place and quivering in fear.
She covers the beam of her flashlight with her hand. Surely if it sees that it'll run.
They're both nearly at the turning point of the hall when she steps a little less carefully than she means to and there's a stuttered hitch of breath from the creature around the corner. It heard her. It freezes - there are no more footsteps.
Okay. Okay. She can be the one to bridge the final gap - she just has to cross her fingers that it doesn't lash out.
Taking a deep breath and forcing herself not to back out, Luida turns the corner and uncovers her flashlight.
The creature yelps and ducks its head, shields its face from the light with two skinny little arms. As it squints in the space between its arms Luida's stomach drops in equal parts shock and awe.
“You're a little boy,” she murmurs, words escaping before her brain can catch up.
Hearing her speak seems to jar it - him? - out of the initial surprise and into realizing he's now face to face with an intruder, and he yells in alarm while scrambling backward.
“Wait!” she cries as he falls over himself to turn and run, chasing before she thinks better of it.
The boy tries to take a turn down an intersection to the right at about the same time that another flashlight beam shines off the walls, along with Brad calling, “Luida?”
The child cries out again with increasing panic as he realizes they're both cutting off his exits, fleeing further down the hall while Brad swears up a storm in shock and pops out to look at her.
“Holy fuck! I almost ran into it- did you see that thing? It looked like-”
“Nai!”
It's the same thing Luida heard him whisper before she turned the corner, louder now and ringing out down the hall. He even sounds like a little boy.
“A child. He looks like a child,” Luida says, setting off down the hall with hurried steps. “Come on.”
It becomes apparent quickly that the little boy has cornered himself. Well, they've cornered him. He nearly hits the far end of the hall before he manages to stop and whirl around, pressing himself to the wall and looking back at them with naked fear.
“NAI!” he shrieks, this time laced through with some kind of frequency that frankly hurts Luida’s ears.
She thinks perhaps that word means ‘no’.
Maybe it's the human instinct to care for children, but the sight of the little guy so obviously distressed tears at Luida’s heart.
It's not the smartest thing she's ever done, but she slowly puts her flashlight and her sidearm on the ground to the chorus of Brad’s hissed protests and raises her hands palm out. She hopes the meaning of the gesture comes across even between species.
“Hey, hey. It's okay, little guy. We're not going to hurt you, I promise.”
She starts taking very slow steps toward the end of the hall where he huddles, and though Brad follows her he certainly has opinions to voice.
“Luida . You can't just disarm yourself like that. Just because it kind of looks like a kid doesn't mean it's not dangerous-”
“I know that,” she interrupts, voice firm for him but still low in the hopes it won't scare the boy. “I know he's not human. But if I can make it clear we’re not a threat, hopefully he won't be either.”
The shock of his appearance may have influenced how she's thinking of him, but Luida can't truly mistake the little creature for a human boy.
His eyes are too large and almost painfully blue, reflecting the light exactly how they had on the catwalk and peering around the kitchen doorway. His face arms and legs are all glowing with ethereal patterns, the same ones she'd glimpsed earlier before he'd darted away.
He's making deeply inhuman sounds of distress low in his throat, little chirps and rumbles that even she can tell come from fear and anxiety.
“Hi, little man,” Luida tries softly. They're almost close enough to touch now. “We're not scary, I promise. Well, Brad is a little scary but that's just his face.”
Miraculously, her even tone and soft smile seem to be working just a little. Those big blue eyes are scared and misty like he wants to cry, but they're starting to look a little less panicked-
Big blue eyes. Two big blue eyes, wide and wet and nervous.
“He doesn't have enough eyes,” Luida blurts, perplexed. “There were four on the catwalk.”
Is this not the same creature that was up there after all? Or…oh, or were there-
The little boy's eyes suddenly dart somewhere up the wall behind them, his sudden renewed cry of Nai! coming at the same time as the creak of an air duct vent and what Luida can only describe as a war cry.