Med-level One resembled any other hospital wing, laid out in a mundane spectacle of cracked linoleum, beige walls and buzzing sodium lights. A young Triage nurse took out a syringe and noticed the tattoo of a Nightingale and nine leaves wrapped around Fee’s arm.

  "Nice ink."

  "Thanks,"

  "Why a Bird?"

  “The leaves represent the nine sorceresses of Avalon. And...I like Nightingales."

  "It must have been painful."

  "I didn’t feel it.” Fee said. It was a tone that was more matter-of-fact than boastful. "I haven't felt anything in this arm."

  "Sounds like a challenge." The nurse said with a sly grin.

  To her dismay, she found her words to be somewhat prophetic. Despite her best efforts, the needle would not break the surface of the skin, let alone penetrate the vein. Every time she pushed the tip of the syringe, it would bend back on itself. Flustered, she discarded the broken needle and called over a Senior. The Sister's first try was to drain blood from the arm, but the needle tip snapped.

  "Unbelievable," She said. "The skin is like Granite. Has it always been this way?"

  "It's felt kinda heavy in the last month," Fee said calmly.

  "I'll try the other arm." The Sister said. Things went a lot smoother as the blood filled up the sample tube, with little to no hindrance. "I don't know what happened, but this one seems to be more compliant. In all my years, I have never seen the like." The senior nurse sealed the puncture wound with a cotton ball. "Alright, off you pop."

  Fee left the ward and noticed two young women wearing pale blue flight suits. They sported the kind of hairstyle last seen in a budget Eighties Dystopia.

  "Nice tats." One of the girls said, in passing.

  Fee stopped. "Excuse me?"

  “The ink, I like it."

  "Oh," Fee said. "I thought you said something else."

  The cockney girl was twenty-something, thick-set with a blood-red buzz-cut. Fee noticed four clean striations down the side of one cheek, indicating the girl had been injected with Jackal pheromones to help her see in the dark. Fee had read about the 'Light-housing' practised in the clinics of the Potsdamer Platz. Rich kids would obsess about becoming 'Augmentals', tech-angels that surpassed the flesh. It was legal as Botox and equally repellent.

  "Name's Kimmy," The girl said. "This is Rascal." The other girl was plain by comparison, wore gold mirror Aviator sunglasses and was less keen on conversation. "Just arrived?"

  "Something like that."

  "In uniform already. What's that all about?"

  "It's a long story." Fee said.

  Kimmy gave this new girl a good eye.

  "You’ve got a look about you." She said. “Angry and lost.”

  "I'm flattered, but no thanks."

  "Ha. Nah, we're actually part of a collective, based under the showers and somewhere in between. We're looking to bolster our ranks, if you know what I mean."

  "Some kind of rhyming collective? I'll pass."

  "Us girls gotta stick together. Come by and check us out. We've got a life you wouldn't believe. Not to mention the rep of being with the Neo-CBR.”

  "What the hell is the Neo-CBR?"

  "Chaotic Band of Ruinators. Some call us a gang, we’re more of a group with common interests. We run the lower levels; no one gets in our way. Not even the higher-ups."

  "We run the lower levels, no one gets in our way," Fee said, slightly amused. "You sound like a musical about cartoon rats. I thought the whole point of being here is that everyone sticks together."

  "Even so," Kimmy said, drawing herself up to her full height. "It might be worth your while in the long run. Never know who is watching. Our wolf den has many eyes, and the pack is everywhere."

  "Are you threatening me or looking to sell a dog?"

  Kimmy smiled and backed away.

  "Think about it." She said. "A smart mouth will only get you so far. When you pick a side, make sure it's the right one."

  The pair of them disappeared into the ward, leaving Fee to wonder what had just happened.

  ***

  Med-Level Two was a grim area. It was reserved for the 'colourful' types, who could not adjust to being around the vacuum of space. After a long exposure, it was common to be struck with some cosmic dementia. ‘The Stare’ was similar to 'Call of the Void', but in some cases, a lot worse. It is rumoured once the infinite darkness got under your skin, it never left.

  Some of the extreme cases seemed more unreal:

  Case 1: A Flying Officer named Casper Durchdenwald was convinced he was being pursued by a mountain. No matter how far he travelled, it was always on the edge of a city, in any random part of the world. No matter what country he ended up in, the locals would always answer: “See the Cat with the broken eyes.”

  Case 2: A girl who lost an arm after summoning a bear had the limb replaced with a metal prosthetic. Eventually, she mastered this gift and managed to summon different types of bears, depending on the time of day.

  Case 3: A man thought a Magic-Eye poster was trying to communicate with him. The poster turned out to be of a Victorian woman named ‘Hilda Scarlet Newsome’, who had been waiting in a Railway station for over a century. Every time he looked, the image would change in sequence, until the woman held up a sign begging him to release her from her ‘Prison’.

  Fee had enough crazy stories to keep the shrinks in Casino's, but kept quiet. She wasn’t about to join any kind of biscuit farm.

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  ***

  Pausing in the doorway of the office. An overload of senses suddenly gripped her, predominantly taste and sight. The interior of the Psych-Eval room was like every other surgery she had visited. A screen half-revealed a tan examination table in the right-hand corner. On the left side were a desk and a filing cabinet. The physician named Dr Black was a ruddy-faced gentleman with half-moon glasses already peering at her file on a blue translucent slate.

  "Please take a seat." He said. “This is merely a preliminary examination to see if you are suitable for active duty. Although judging by your attire, I see you've already jumped the queue."

  Fee sat in the padded chair. "It was my Mother's idea. She is stationed here as Squadron Leader."

  "Having a parent here will not help you, Cadet. If anything, the presumed favouritism will isolate you from your peers."

  "I think that has already started."

  "Then you have a mountain to climb." The Physician said. "Even though this is back to front, I can still perform an examination. I must ask you, do you have a history of mental illness? Bear in mind that I have all your medical history on file, and liars make me nervous."

  "I have been slightly depressed, but never violent." Fee said. She considered whether to talk about the voice in her head, but shut it down since it almost certainly would have led to an instant fail. "I can taste yellows, amber, and sawdust, aluminium foil. I feel like I’m in some Psychosphere."

  "We try not to use the word 'Psycho' around here, Cadet." The Doctor said. "It spooks the natives." He tapped his slate. "Word has it that you smashed a two-way mirror with a chair. A chair bolted to the floor. Nothing has been confirmed, and all video evidence has been scrubbed." He placed the slate on the desk. "This worries me; rumours with no basis usually do not require such heavy-handedness."

  "I honestly don't remember."

  "Something like that is not easily forgotten. You are either lying or dissociative, neither will work well in your favour." He scanned his slate again. "Usually, at this point, you would be put through a rigorous testing procedure to root out any propensity for violence. As luck would have it, you have a note from your Mother, so I guess we can skip all that." The Physician got to his feet.

  "Roll up your sleeves." He said. Fee did as she was told. "No track or slash marks. Good, good. Alright, you can roll them down." The Physician lifted his slate back up. "Have you had any vivid dreams of late?"

  “Dreams?”

  The last thing Fee remembered after delivering her previous pizza was standing on a hexagon looking down into a black pool. Fee focused on the shaving mirror, catching half her reflection; eyes looking at eyes, staring into each other.

  ***

  ::: Fee remembers being secured to a large metal table. There are no restraints, but every limb is locked down by some paralytic or psychic inhibitor. Only her eyes move, darting from one end to the other. She sees a laboratory. A big bank of lights hangs down directly above her. She recognises these lights, the kind used in every operating theatre. Two large bulbous heads eclipse the glare, one on either side. They continue to speak in a language similar to Praying Mantis. She panics, wondering what kind of surgery she will be party to. The intense fear increases as she sees a massive metal probe draw into view above her chest. The wash of dread gives way to something darker, more abyssal. She can feel it strengthening, changing from within and breaking the bonds of paralysis. Whatever has formed inside her is starting to take over. Fee trusts this new form, allowing it to take control. Somehow in all the despair, she has created an Avatar and it is very angry. A strange voice speaks inside her head, watery like a babbling stream. One of the Aliens has made contact.

  "We mean you no harm.” It says. “We only want to collect."

  The Avatar’s voice resonates with barely contained fury.

  "You have no right to kidnap or take without consent. We are not dead meat to be prodded."

  "We don't see you as dead meat. You are young."

  "Idiots!" The Avatar replies. "I am already ancient!"

  Fee bolts upright, grips the alien on the left by its slim neck. With a wet snap, the creature flops to the floor. The Avatar breaks off the probe and stabs the other Alien in the forehead—blue blood gouts across her face like squid ink. A third being is trying to escape on short stubby legs, but the Avatar plucks out the syringe and hurls it like a throwing dagger. The alien goes down quickly. The Avatar batters the large head against the door pad, but realises it can only be activated with a handprint. Groaning with impatience, the Avatar slaps the Alien's limp hand against the pad, opening the door. By this point, the all-chrome ship is in full-blown panic mode; small creatures scramble from all sides. Mounting the free-floating staircase, the Avatar follows a curved hallway to the right. Fee slowly regained consciousness.

  "How am I doing this?" She thinks.

  "You're not," The voice replies. "You're just a passenger."

  "Like a Mech-suit?”

  "For now. You will never access this power until you get on my level."

  "How do I..?"

  "Sleep now in the Crypt."

  Fee returns to a state of hibernation, and her Avatar continues to stalk the halls. She hears a blood-curdling scream ring out behind double doors. The Avatar grabs the guard, smashes its head against the wall and slaps its limp hand against the scanner. The double doors slide open, revealing another surgery being prepped. A thin red laser beam is boring a hole into the side of a middle-aged man. Incensed, the Avatar throat chops another guard and throws its lifeless body at the laser. The beam is knocked, slicing the surgeon and taking the front half of its head clean off. The Avatar approaches the man, who looks at Fee in confusion.

  "Impossible." He says. "How?"

  “Can you walk?"

  The man swings his legs off the slab and nods.

  The Avatar walks off without looking back. Bracing himself against a wall, the man spits a wad of black Goo.

  "Hey," He says, but his words come out rasped and feathery.

  He is surprised by how unfazed the girl seems, almost as if she is making her way to class. The Avatar descends another chrome-coloured staircase. The path leads to large double doors. She is met with what appears to be the captain. The alien angrily wields a short sword with gaps in the blade. The Avatar tears the blade from its hand and thrusts it through the Alien's torso. With a single stroke, she disembowels the creature, slams its head against a retinal scanner and throws the body into a darkened room. They come to a vast cargo bay filled with rows upon rows of Airliners, ships and cars. The walls are dotted with an infinite number of Cryogenic pods, disappearing into the far horizon. There is a mile-high pile of dead animal carcasses, horribly mutilated and left to decay. The Avatar ignores the smell and looks around.

  “What is that smell?” The man asked.

  “B-13.” The Avatar replies.

  "All those people. Everyone who went missing."

  "They can't be helped, now."

  Entering the control room, a chrome probe with three coloured lights stretches from the ceiling. The Avatar grabs the metallic spine attached, pulling it toward her.

  "Return this man or more find more of these.” She says, dangling the Alien Captain like an old coat. The probe gives out an indignant hiss. The Avatar is having none of it. "I will invade your planet single-handed."

  Suddenly, a vortex shimmers, revealing a warehouse with large wooden crates. The number '11' is printed in large letters.

  "I know that place," The man says. "It’s forbidden to go there.”

  "Doesn’t matter." The Avatar says. "Go now."

  The old man tentatively approaches the opening. Taking a deep breath, he steps through the membrane of the portal, which ripples out. Once he is free, the portal closes up like an aperture and disappears. The Avatar turned to the lights with a hollow expression.

  "You and I are going to have a little talk." ::::

  ***

  Realising she had been silent for a few seconds, Fee finally spoke.

  "No dreams," She said. "Not that I know of."

  The Physician carefully appraised her for any tells suggesting she could be lying. He sat back satisfied.

  "Seeing how the esteemed Low Commander has sought to bypass regulation, I can only take her word that you are mentally capable. Congratulations, you have passed with flying colours. Not that I had anything to do with it, but what do I know?" He stood up, and they shook hands to show no hard feelings. "Good luck, Cadet."

  Fee nodded and left without saying another word.