Session 45
ARS-8: The Spiral Chorus (2025-06-07)
Aboard the Hollow Spark
The crew of the Hollow Spark — Mia, Det, Siz, and Chimes — dock with the derelict station ARS-8. It is clear from the outset that the station has been corrupted by nanite phenomena: sensors glitch, ambient systems behave erratically, and the structure appears partially phased. Even in sealed EVA suits, the team feels the presence of something unnatural.
Core or Lab? A Paralyzing Choice
Mia suggests heading to the AI core, recognising its strategic importance, but she hesitates—something within her resists the idea. Det votes for securing the core first to gain control over the station’s systems and gather intelligence. Siz, clearly disturbed, insists they should avoid anything that might escalate contact with the nanite anomaly.
Chimes informs them that the core lies in the central spindle, while Dr. Magrete Steel's lab and quarters are located off to the side. Before they can move, they hear footsteps from the direction of the core. No one appears. Mia panics, urges them to change direction, and leads the group toward Magrete’s quarters instead.
Psychological Corruption Begins
The station’s geometry feels inconsistent. Mia sees flickering spirals and reaches out involuntarily before stopping herself. She’s shaken, rifle raised. Det begins scanning in different spectrums. Siz moves quickly on all fours, guided by urgency. Chimes reports no mammalian life signs—nothing bigger than a football. The crew remains alert.
Mia confesses: she feels two contradictory urges—one drawing her toward the core, one warning her away. She cannot explain it, only feel it.
Margrete’s Lab
The lab is large—too large for a station of this class. It’s been heavily customised: portable labs, jury-rigged biometric systems, a damaged holotable. Scrawled across walls and screens are incomprehensible diagrams and a repeated phrase in multiple languages: "It doesn’t grow. It arranges."
At the far end: a cracked containment pod lined with dormant nanite latticework. Mia approaches, recording the area.
Visual Log: Final Session
The holotable flickers to life: VISUAL LOG: M. STEEL – SESSION 6, FINAL Margrete, pale and exhausted, mutters: “The swarm doesn’t consume. It sings… and we are the resonance.” She turns sharply toward the containment pod. The recording cuts. A value appears: Φ = 1.4
Bloom Escalates — And So Does Fear
Reality begins to shift:
- Gravity changes subtly.
- A number climbs: Φ = 1.43
- Siz finds unlabelled data sticks and grabs them all.
Mia is transfixed. She places her hand on the containment window. The lattice pulses beneath the surface. Her reflection lags. The glass turns oily. She hears herself whisper, words she never said. She is alone—until Det appears again, without warning.
Siz’s Encounter: The Kitchen
As Siz runs back toward the ship, she encounters an open door with warm light and a familiar smell:
- A kitchen.
- Her grandmother stirring dough.
- Her favourite cookies on the table.
The old ysoki smiles: “You always come home when the cookies are ready.” And inside Siz’s cheek pouch—she tastes sugar.
Retreat to the Ship
Mia stumbles back. Det grabs her, and they flee. Siz calls out “NOPE” through comms like a mantra. The crew regroups and escapes the lab. Chimes requests confirmation for an EMP purge; Det vetoes it. As they run:
- The hum of the station distorts.
- The air feels too clean.
- Φ = 1.46
The Hollow Spark awaits—but something aboard ARS-8 has become aware of them.
Internal Experiences and Personal Intrusions
Mia:
- Hears a hum beneath her skin; the lattice behind the wall pulses. Something familiar and seductive tugs at her mind, offering power, memory, belonging.
- Her nanites respond, resisting another force that wants her to step closer. A silent war plays out between alien resonance and internal programming.
- A whisperless pull recognises her—not the name she uses, but the one she could have had. Reality bends around her presence. She becomes anchor and threat simultaneously.
- When touching the containment chamber, her reflection lags. She hears her own voice speak words she never said. Time stutters. Space breathes. And yet, something ancient waits.
Siz:
- Feels the fundamental wrongness of the station—an intuitive, primal certainty that people were never meant to be here.
- Smells overcooked sugar and hot copper no one else can detect. A number on a console flashes 3.91 for a split-second before reverting.
- Visor fogs inexplicably. Symbols appear in the mist. Static crackles in her boot, in her mind.
- The corridor itself tempts her: a vision of her grandmother offers cookies in a kitchen that shouldn’t exist. She tastes sugar in her mouth. Her instincts scream: escape.
Det:
- Feels at first an eerie friendliness: the floor hums in sync with her heartbeat. Tools vibrate slightly in her pouch. The ship likes her—for now.
- Corridors subtly change layout, misremembered steps loop. Junctions appear where they weren’t. Ceiling lights attempt to communicate in unreadable code.
- Her detonator clicks once without being touched. The message is clear: she is being observed. Whether by machine, mind, or memory remains unknown.
- She hears a whisper from Aib: "Get the book." Then, absurdly, all the suns give her finger guns. It should be silly—but it leaves her feeling safe, at least for a moment.
