Space Station Zoolu, come in Space Station Zoolu. Do you copy, over?
…
Space Station Zoolu...?Do you copy?
…
Plasmos? Plasmos, I know you're there. Open the landing bay!
“Cripes! I can hear you!” Plasmos shouted into his receiver as he scrambled into his seat. A sharp squeal from his headset reminded him that in space, the person on the other end of the mic can hear you scream. “OW!”
Yeah, ow! Now open the bloody bay door!
Plasmos fumbled for the button, wondering how his assistant ever managed to keep track of the myriad blinking lights. “Yeah yeah, I've got it, hold on...” he muttered back, finally selecting a promising looking red button with an airlock traced on it.
“There,” he announced, hearing the telltale hiss of an airlock opening.
There, what?
“No? Hmm... What abooooooout... Ha!”
The microwave hummed to life.
“BLAST!”
Today, Plasmos.
“My assistant usually handles this!” the beleaguered scientist protested. “Are you sure it isn't opening slowly or something? I heard the hiss!”
Nothing is happening.
The tired otter hung his head, resting it on the console. His forehead found a button that started dimming the lights in lock-step with his rapidly waning patience. He crossed his eyes, looking down his earthen muzzle. Just above the dimmer switch was a welcoming blue button that read “Bay Door” in bold white letters. A few minutes later he could hear the pilot coming up the hall, her claws ticking in quiet rhythm against the durable tile floor.
Plasmos stifled an inward groan as the pilot rounded the corner. Her long red hair matched her vibrant pelt. The gentle curve of her human torso gave way to the shoulders of a proud vixen, complete with four painted paws and a bushy tail.
“Good morning, Lisa,” Plasmos said, hopping down from his chair. “I should have recognized your voice. Last I heard they weren't sending foxtaurs to the slab. No spacesuits or budget or something.
“That's construction labor only. Pilots are just fine,” she said, grinning.
“I'm sure they are,” Plasmos grumbled. “Lisa, why are you here?”
“Bring 'er in, boys!” Lisa shouted back up the hall. “Get the lead out! We've got two more stations this cycle!”
Her crew arrived shortly thereafter, otters both, tugging a hovering platform behind them with a rock bigger than Plasmos and his vacationing assistant combined. The boulder's shadow loomed over the little otter as though the moon had made its pass early, blotting out the sun. Lisa placed her hands on her hybrid hips and grinned at the slack-jawed professor.
“I... I... I am not signing for this!” Plasmos shouted, jumping up and down. “This is a laboratory! Not a rock museum! If this is another one of Kado's hare-brained 'we're gonna be rich guys' schemes... It is! Isn't it?! I'm going to call him right now and give him a piece of my mind! Why I'll--”
Lisa rolled her eyes, inspecting her fingernails as she waited for the diminutive professor to run out of steam. Eventually she became convinced that this would never happened and cut him off. “It's not from Kado. It's from the dig site.”
“... from the dig site?”
“From the dig site.” Lisa nodded.
“For my department?”
“For your department, yes. That's why we lugged it in.”
Plasmos eyed the boulder up and down with a new-found interest, his eyes aglimmer with curiosity. “What is it, exactly?”
Lisa leaned against the door frame and stretched her considerable spine. “Isn't that your department? Plumbing the depths of mineralogy, exploring the vast frontier of science for the betterment of all?”
“Alright alright, I'll sign!” Plasmos barked.
“Wonderful,” said a very smug Lisa.
Plasmos scrawled his name onto the bottom each of her forms. “Make one drunken speech about wanting to help make the universe a nicer place and no one ever lets you forget it,” he muttered, then stuffed the clipboard back into her eager hands.
“It's been real; it's been fun; but it hasn't been real fun,” said Lisa as she started back up the corridor. Her gaze drifted toward the stars outside and her cheerful trot slowed quickly and faltered to a complete stop. “Uhh... hey doc?”
“Aren't you back to your ship yet?” Plasmos snapped.
“No, I'm in the hall. Come take a look. I think you should see this,” she called.
Plasmos set his datapad down and hurried into the hallway. “I have a specimen to examine, Lisa! Furthermore this is a space station not a 3 bed, 2 bath. It's called a corridor, not a hall!”
“Yeah, fine, that's great, but seriously, you've gotta see this.”
Plasmos looked out the window, following the foxtaur's slender finger to something floating just outside.
“My laundry!” Plasmos wailed. “I must've... oh blast! That hissing sound! It must've been... WHY DO WE EVEN HAVE A BUTTON THAT JETTISONS THE LAUNDRY ROOM!?”
An hour later found Plasmos hard at work, sifting through the data provided by the dig crew. An entirely new crystalline structure, unlike anything he had ever seen. “It really is amazing, isn't it?” he asked aloud. The idle comment brought to sharp contrast the usual clamor of his assistant and the ever-talkative computer.
“Such interesting things out there,” he said, looking up toward the overhead window. His view of the Heridian Nebula was blocked by a missing sock, drifting lazily past. Plasmos felt his cheeks redden furiously.
“How much longer is that going to take?!” he barked.
The computer chimed softly, then spoke in a tinny voice. “Calculations show 13.64 minutes until the drone collects the last of the jettisoned laundry. If you would like I can redirect it to collect the socks first, although that will add 5.224 minutes to the total time.”
“Yes, please,” Plasmos said with a quiet sigh. He didn't know why he said 'please.' It was just a computer, after all, but his assistant was always thanking the thing and it seemed to work better for him.
“You are welcome,” the computer answered warmly. “I am sorry for the inconvenience, sir.”
“That's more like it,” Plasmos said. Lisa had shown no such sympathy. “Irritating foxtaur, laughing at my drawers floating past. I bet she wouldn't be so smug if it was her underwear wandering around the cosmos. Computer! See to it that happens.”
“Foxtaurs do not wear underwear, sir.”
“She's part human right?! Maybe the bra or something! Or an undershirt?! Just... next time we get the chance! Got it?”
The computer seemed to stall a moment on this particular request. Finally it offered a hesitant, “Yes, sir...”
“Now then, where were we...” Plasmos mumbled to himself. “Subject Alpha-437 was found in Sector 2 by the Vespid Irradiation and Radioactive Mutagenic Intervention and Recovery team. That's quite a mouthful!”
With chisel in hand, the professor chipped delicately at the boulder's smooth surface, scraping a few chips off and collecting them into a petri dish. The mass spectrometer would make quick work of the sample. Molecular content would shed light on the crystal lattice.
“What a great day,” Plasmos said, feeling a smug satisfaction as the spectrometer whirred away. His thoughts drifted to his friends at the science center on station Bravo Zulu, affectionately called 'The Zoo' because of the great diversity of life all crammed together in quarters barely fit for luggage.. “Everyone is going to be so excited! Why this might be the greatest find this y-uh oh.”
“GRAVITY FAILURE,” the computer announced as Plasmos floated out of his seat. The boulder lifted into the air nearby, a veritable 800 pound wrecking ball drifting precariously through the station.
“Computer! Keep gravity deactivated!” Plasmos screamed, swimming through the air as though he were back in the rivers of his homeworld. His powerful tail worked as an excellent rudder, enabling him to deftly mount the drifting stone. Gravity was one thing, but momentum another force entirely. He groaned as he strained against the sheer mass of it, easing it back toward the floor. This was why his kind was among the first selected for space travel. Cutting through the weightless sky with the ease of a fish in water.
“Gravity engine restored!” The computer cheerfully announced. “Gravity is set to Off. Activate?”
“NO!” Plasmos shrieked. The computer chimed recognition and fell blissfully silent. The boulder thudded against the hovering platform and filled the room with the shriek of a dozen fingernails gouging deep trenches in a $50,000 chalkboard. “Okay! Computer, reactivate gravity!”
With a soft electric whirr, Plasmos felt his weight return, like climbing out of the river but without the soggy fur. Lying limp atop the boulder he longed for the warmth of a bright afternoon sun on his tired back. “That... that was a close call,” he muttered. He started to stand, and felt something shift beneath him. The boulder started to tip...
“Uh oh...”
And then the floor rushed toward him. He landed hard on his chest, bouncing once before coming to a rest against the bulkhead, dazed and sore. A soft sound, like an otherworldly song, filled the chamber. The melody was faint at first, lost beneath the ringing in his ears. Then were was the light. Such beautiful, rapturous light, leaking out from a million tiny cracks in the boulder. It crumbled all at once, breaking into dozens of sizable chunks of ruby and sapphire and garnet, all bundled together like a great space-faring geode. Oh what splendor! Oh how they sang! Each gem reverberating with the others, a shrill and sweet symphony.
“Just listen to that,” Plasmos said, wishing for once that the Space Station Zoolu was anywhere near as populated as Bravo Zulu. “The crystal lattice must be so complex! 7Th, 9th order maybe. To get something like that. Just listen to them hum. Hummmmm...” he hummed along with them, matching the frequencies with his voice, keeping count of each time he passed another until he reached frequencies his throat could not accommodate.
“Yes! Definitely! 9th order at least! Oh it gives me shivers!”
And shiver he did! He could feel the frequency match his spine, giving him a little chill from the tip of his tail, up his spine, circling around in his belly and finally escaping through his head, as though set free, wobbling gently in the air above him. Oh, that was much better! Now the sound was so much clearer, so well-defined. He closed his eyes and hummed along, listening to the soft buzz in the air, hearing it, feeling it swirl above his head, mixing his own soft buzz with it. Singing along with his own personal crystal choir. He tilted his head back as he drank it in, feeling the subtle bob of his antennae.
“Antennae...?” he said, suddenly stricken with silence. He tilted his head back further, wide-eyed as he tried to get a better look. He could feel them bob again, and for a fleeting moment the two poofy tips descended into view before springing back to attention above him. Slowly the scientist extended a trembling hand to feel the soft poofs above his head. He squirmed a little; those tickled! The sound dulled around him as he touched them, then sprang back in full force as soon as they were released, as though he had put a pillow over his ears and then removed it again.
“This.. this is incredible. Could this be from the crystals? No... it's just sound. Nice sound, but... maybe something that was on them? Like a recording device! And these are the only way to play back the recording! Plasmos, you are a genius! It's unconventional, but.. maybe if I...”
Again he hummed, his voice descending into a soft buzz as he mixed his frequencies with the crystals'. At least it's soothing? He thought, feeling the soft vibrations all around him. They made him feel tired. Heavy. Chubby? His tail felt thick, fat, hard to move. Like he had sat on it for too long, minus the pins and needles. He shifted his weight, trying to dislodge it, but it just tickled, and he watched, wide-eyed, still buzzing, as the fur vibrated loose, his already-swollen tail burgeoning into a thick, lobed abdomen of some sort of insect.
The earthy browns of his fur shifted into blobs, drifting across his changing form like a lava lamp, separating and mixing, brown giving away to pale yellows and dark black stripes. He yelped as he tapped on his chitinous rump, feeling the wobble of his antenna, and the venom sacs swelling inside him.
“Okay! We are D-O-N-E DONE Communicating!” Plasmos yelped, grabbing hold of both lobes of his antennae to dampen the sound. A few minutes later he was hauling each of the crystal chunks to the laundry room and loading them into the dryer. His antenna tickled, each adorned with a clean sock, freshly retrieved from the vacuum of space. It felt goofy, but the socks did the trick, muffling the siren call of the buzzing crystals.
Plasmos felt almost sad, launched another few crystals into space. He could see them twinkling in the ambient light as they drifted by his window, vibrant comets on an interstellar voyage. He would miss their light, miss their sound. He sighed as he looked at the considerable heap of crystals left to go. He missed his assistant. Another pair of hands would be...
“REALLY ANNOYING!” he shouted as two fuzzy yellow limbs poked through his shirt like spears. He waved them around clumsily in the air, mid-legs, by the looks of them, tipped in gnarled, chitinous claws. Good for dragging things, he quickly learned, wrapping a solid 200 pounds worth of gemstone into a blanket and dragging it over his back, powering himself along on four spindly legs, each surprisingly strong of their size.
“It'll be fine... it'll be fine... just try not to think about it...” Plasmos said to himself, struggling to ignore the soft, lilting drone of the crystals coming along behind him. “Augh that buzzing!”
His back ached, he slammed himself up against the bulkhead and rubbed up against it like a bear against the bark of a tree. Relief came in the form of wings, glossy, transparent, dangling from his shoulders like capes. “Ack! Double time!”
* * *
Two weeks later Professor Plasmos sat on four spindly legs, sipping at his morning mix of coffee and a synthetic space honey prescribed by his doctor. His assistant sat across from him, having not said a word since his unceremonious return five minutes ago.
“So...” the other otter said, then took a sip of his hot chocolate. Plasmos grimaced as a smile spread across his friend's blue-striped face.
“Don't...”
“...what's the buzz?”
“AUGH!”
