[sb118-gorkon] Ensign Ethan Espinoza - Roots in the Wires
Ethan Espinoza
A cold shiver cut through Ethan, sharper than anything he’d felt before. Death, unpleasant as it was to acknowledge, had long since lost its power to shock him.The holodeck scenarios had conditioned them to face a breadth of horrors without freezing up in the field. So far, they’d done their job.
One such scenario the Academy had failed to prepare him for was interdimensional xenoflora grotesquely puppeteering the bodies of dead scientists. He couldn’t exactly blame the curriculum for overlooking this possibility, but he also couldn’t help thinking they might be failing their students by keeping the simulations so restrained and, if he was honest, far too sensible.
The more he stewed on it, the more ridiculous it sounded. His very first simulation had thrown legions of fleshy, multilegged, half‑spider‑half‑machine, possibly genetically modified creatures at him, all skittering through a complex not entirely unlike this one. Really, nothing could have prepared him for this absurdity. His next trick would be deducing the best way to get honorably discharged and putting this insanity behind him.
Finch: Hello? I’m Lieutenant Commander Doz Finch and this is my team. We’re Starfleet, and we’re here to help you. Where are you?
Naledi: Hiss Pop Snap… They are here.
Against his better judgement, Ethan snorted a quiet laugh.
Commander Neathler hefted her rifle, which, he had to admit, was beginning to fill him with more dread than comfort. It felt a bit like whacking a beehive while already standing ankle‑deep in the honey.
Espinoza: Unfortunately…
Finch: Is that a body?
Neathler: Or what’s left of it.
Espinoza: It’s a lil strange, isn’t it? Why go through the effort to puppet a body like that?
Finch: Are they alive? Can we get through to them? ::Turning to her team, her voice was urgent yet measured.:: Or are they already gone?
He didn’t want to contradict the Commander’s optimism. He wanted to believe they could still be saved. But the stiff, unnatural movements, and the way the vines jerked their bodies like crude marionettes, told him a different story entirely. Their passing felt like a mercy, given the alternative.
Neathler: I’d consider them gone.
Naledi: Crick Snap Pop Hiss… Hopefully they’ll have died before they felt their insides being crushed by plants.
He took some small comfort in knowing he wasn’t alone in this line of thought. Every pod within sight had split asunder, disgorging bodies in differing degrees of rot. The deep, unified echo told him there were many more hidden amongst the weaves.. The chorus went on and on, relentless. When the next chant rose, their bodies remained perfectly still.
Multiple Unknowns: WE … HERE … WE … ARE …HERE … JOIN US…
He noticed the Chief of Security heft her rifle once more, and a fresh spike of unease ran through him. Readiness was essential, but part of him feared the motion might be seen as provocation. He swallowed his concerns. He had to trust his team, especially one as experienced and tenured as this.
Neathler: You’d think another corridor would hold their legs and feet preserved in more of those pods?
Naledi: Crick Snap Pop Snap… It would surmise with the lack of sunlight in this outpost, they will have digested the bodies for energy, similar to a Terran Venus fly trap.
Espinoza: That’s wholly assumin’ these things operate like the plants we know and photosynthesise. It could equally be an attempt to entice us to join ‘em by masquerading familiar faces.
Finch: Response
It evidently wasn’t working, but he had to admit this was still - barely - less threatening than Audrey II bursting through a bulkhead and inviting them in for a casual chinwag.
Neathler: Either way, I do not want to end up like this. We need to find the gateway and another free path. ::She pointed to the curtain of vines behind them.:: That one I’d considered as blocked.
Naledi: Hiss Tick Crack Pop… Does it propose an alternate route?
Espinoza: I’m not sure there is one.
Finch: Response
They were on edge, and no one wanted to make a wrong move. This was the belly of the beast. The silver lining was that they were likely close to their objective, but he struggled to imagine how they were supposed to finish this final sprint. No way back, and only the thinnest thread of a path ahead.
Neathler: I’d say we move forward and try not to step on those things.
Naledi: Crick Hiss Tick Snap… It agrees. The smaller size of the below-limbs suggests a type of energy-nutrient deprivation. It does not wish to become a battery.
Espinoza: That’d be nice. This is not how I imagined my career endin’.
Finch / Neathler: Response
They pressed on tentatively. Ethan was relieved he hadn’t been the one to volunteer for point this time; his nerves were frayed and his chest felt tight. He wanted to keep an eye on the pods, in case any of them decided to hurl themselves from their perches, but he found his gaze fixed on the floor instead, carefully threading his way through the narrow path between slick, glistening vines.
Naledi: Pop Snap Clap Hiss… Is group moving correctly? Plant density is not what it expected.
Espinoza: It definitely looks like it’s easin’ up… have they routed us in the wrong direction?
Finch / Neathler: Response
Further they went, his eyes still glued to the ground. It wasn’t until the Xindi‑Insectoid Commander spoke that he slowed and forced his gaze upward. A silhouette hung ahead, though this one, he noted, hadn’t sprouted from a pod. Instead, it was suspended at a distance, held aloft by thick, braided vines. It revolved lazily in the air, and though the coils around its torso and throat looked tight enough to suffocate, the body neither struggled nor thrashed.
Naledi: Pop Clack Snap Tick… It’s moaning. Saying the same phrase to itself over and over again.
Ethan paused to listen, and given the sudden cessation of footsteps, so too did the rest.
Unknown Figure: The gate remembers, the gate forgets… roots in the wires, roots in the wires! Crossing the threshold, not alone… not alone… sap becomes blood, blood becomes sap… exchange complete. Don’t touch the vines… don’t touch… don’t… The gate remembers -
Finch / Neathler / Naledi: Response
And on it repeated. This, of all the things they’d seen so far, may have been the most harrowing.
Espinoza: It sounds like… a mash of statements. Different comments the researchers made, maybe?
Finch / Neathler / Naledi: Response
The body turned in full now, drifting until it faced them squarely. A small bud protruded from its chest, he noticed, and thin, fibrous strands burst from its eyes and gaping mouth like the researchers around and behind them. With a shuddering effort, one rigid arm rose, jerky and puppet-like, to gesture towards a corridor that curved off portside.
Unknown Figure: The path curls inward… inward… the mouth opens… the crossing wakes… almost through… almost through… almost… too near... too near... the other side hungers.
Espinoza: Is it… inviting us? Warnin’ us? I really don’t like this.
Finch / Neathler / Naledi: Response