Phobos

Deep space, stars glow incandescently around a small orb. With a silent shudder it unfolds great sails, they catch the solar winds bowing outwards on the great sea of galactic radiation. Falling towards the orb, passing through its strange metallic wings, a single window beckons. Peering down through this simple opening reveals a small pool reflecting back at the night. Around the pool, green spongy moss speckled with tiny white flowers. The area thick with vegetation. Cool grey stone leads to a path. The strange plants seem to leer and tangle themselves along railings and white trellis. The light is soft and pure. Up a set of metal stairs, a panoramic view will reveal a living space neatly divided into a kitchen, with a small silver table and a single white chair, a gym and bathroom, a small bedroom with a neatly made bed, and finally a lab. In it a woman, dressed in a white lab coat and large thick rubber gloves.

"Experiments 253-b, single male womp rat injected with serum 253-b. I am opening the box now." She peers over a clear acrylic box, housing two womp rats separated by a glass partition. "The primary rat appears stable." The woman slides the lid of the box open. "Exposure to airborne virus now in effect, exposure time 1 minute, I am closing the box now." She slides the lid over the rat, locks the box and peers down. The rat, seemingly normal, sedate, it cleans its whiskers and stands still. "Introducing secondary test specimen," the second rat cocks its head as the first begins spasming. Its body convulsing in seizures, she knows the symptoms by heart; systemically, the virus infects the heart, blood vessels, stomach, intestine, liver, lymphoid organs, and kidneys, causing hemorrhaging and acute organ failure. The host usually dies with no evidence of an immune response. After which the body begins to link through the virus by a system of chemicals and neurotransmitters, effectively turning the host into a distributed nervous system, like an ant hill or swarm of locust and with a similar drive, to feed and reproduce.

"Shit, primary rat is succumbing to the virus...sorry old girl.." the woman looks away as the injected rat tries to tear its way into the belly of the second rat, it eats but is distracted. It turns towards the woman, its tiny glassy eyes milky and seemingly blind as it tries to shatter the acrylic cage. The secondary rat, stirs, it's dangling guts spilling out behind it as its pulls its mangled self to join the first in banging its head against the opaque wall, leaving violent streaks of red. The woman sighs, "experiment 253-b is null, no change in apparent virulence or behavior of subject." She picks up the box, and takes it to a tube on one white wall, marked incinerator. The box and its contents burn, although the bodies do not stop their pounding until turned to ash.

The woman steps out of the lab into the shower room. She strips in careful compliance to the possibility of contamination. Sealing the gloves and affected material in a bin marked in alien pictograms denoting biohazard. She showers and checks herself for scrapes or cuts. She finishes by dressing in a white tank top and matching cotton shorts. She braids her red hair and ties it tight against her head.

Walking into the kitchen she pulls out a white bowl and silver spoon, sitting in the single chair in the white glowing kitchen she opens an MRE and pours the grey contents into it with a clatter. Eating she stares out over her hermetically sealed biodome, down at the black pool reflecting a great vastness, the emptiness of stars. She sighs, rinses her bowl and stacks it neatly, next to a single plate, cup, fork and knife.

Walking around the spherical walkway to the bedroom, she sighs a great heaving sigh and crashes backwards with the drama of youth. A small droid climbs up next to her, she clutches it like a child with a familiar toy, falling asleep.

It's the dream, again. The same one. A man holds her, he presses his lips against her. Gently he touches her face. "No, don't touch me," she says. Her eyes closed, she feels him then, sweetly, his hands worn but soft. "Shh, I love you, I could never..."

"You don't understand," she whispers, "please..." but she no longer wants to resist, she no longer wants to be alone and she yields, feeling his warmth as he enters her, a detonation of feeling in her stomach, something for so long desired. She opens her eyes, to meet his, and then the change begins, it starts in his eyes, bright and clear bursting into red as the blood vessels in his eye pop and begin to bleed, his body goes rigid his hands holding her in a vise like grip, she watches in terror, but not ignorance...no she can never forget the virus, his eyes go cloudy as the it spreads through him, "no, no, no....I'm sorry," she screams as he spills inside her and his teeth sink deep into her shoulder.

The woman jerks awake. The small droid titters questioningly, "Yes, it was the dream again." She patted the little robot on its insectoid head as it chitters encouragement back to her. The dream, not always the same, sometimes, it was her that changed and ate him. She woke in deeper screams then, staring down at her hands expecting the blood to stain the sheets. A trill on the wall sensor indicates an incoming call.

"Come on Squirt, looks like we have a job."