After Erika’s little talk with Luther, she expected working with him to be awkward. And it was, for about five minutes. Then the pair fell into their familiar rhythm.

  They first analyzed the Aranea, which was doing fine, then checked on the Carnifex. Petra sat in the monitoring room with her drawing tablet in hand. The Carnifex was awake now, and skittering around its new home.

  Most aliens would run into the glass separating the observation room from the enclosure, but the Carnifex busied itself with the alien flora in its cage.

  “Has the Carnifex done anything all too upsetting?” Luther asked.

  “It just woke up and started wandering around the cage. Sometimes out of sight. Though I guess the cameras would pick it up, wherever it goes.” Petra glanced between Luther and Erika. “I guess I should get outta here.”

  “We’re doing some basic observation; you can stay,” Luther said.

  “Nah. I should get going as it is. Work’s over and all that.” Petra shut her tablet down. Erika caught a glimpse of the sketch she was working on, but not enough to pass judgement. If this drawing was anything like Petra’s other work, it would do the alien justice.

  Petra bounced out of her chair and left the enclosure.

  Erika and Luther checked the Carnifex. Its vitals seemed to be in a good place. The enclosure emulated the Tartarus air perfectly. The only note was how the Carnifex wandered the cage. It examined the plants and metal walls in a way that reminded Erika of someone walking into a room and forgetting why they were there. The aliens always took time to get used to their new homes, but that usually manifested in a more animalistic response. Still, the Carnifex was agitated. It would calm down though, once it realized the cage was safe and meals came regularly. Then Erika and Luther could begin their experiments.

  With the Carnifex finished, the pair headed for the final and most dreadful of the enclosures–that of the Lamia.

  The creature was a blob of flesh that dragged itself along with boneless limbs. It had no eyes, because its mucous-coated body served as the eyes. At least as far as Erika or Luther could surmise. The Lamia lurched among the foliage in its enclosure, happy as a zoo animal could be.

  Erika and Luther approached the glass.

  A knife scraped up Erika’s spinal column.

  She had seen, captured, and transported many aliens over the course of her SmallWorld employment, but the Lamia was the only one that made Erika’s stomach boil. She had been against capturing the thing, but Luther insisted that SmallWorld would want a creature like this in its zoos. During the hunt, Erika had narrowly avoided being smashed to a pulp by one of the Lamia’s bloated limbs.

  Now it’s time to make the bastard dance.

  Erika headed to the control panel while Luther checked the enclosure’s readings. Erika used the food printer to make the Lamia’s food–a pale nutrient slop. Luther prepared the recording devices. When he finished, he gave Erika a thumbs up, and she returned the gesture. Erika placed the Lamia’s food into the service elevator, shut the compartment, and let the machine work.

  The enclosures came equipped with a variety of ways to feed aliens. The Lamia was usually fed by sending the food elevator low into the enclosure, but for this experiment, the elevator went high, close to the ceiling.

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  The Lamia paused. It detected the food.

  Erika stopped the lift before it reached the ground. The nutrient slop wobbled on its plate.

  The Lamia slithered beneath the platform. It was too high for the creature to reach.

  The experiment was a simple one with a simple goal. In the wild, the scientists observed the Lamia gently swaying their tentacle arms at moments of excitement or anticipation. It was an ugly dance for sure, but SmallWorld would want to know how to make aliens dance or sing or follow human commands. It wasn’t enough to have alien life; that life had to be obedient to the company.

  What makes you so different from the aliens you train? Erika pushed the thought out of mind before it could depress her.

  The Lamia reached a limb out, though a few meters of air separated the alien from the nutrient slop. That should build anticipation, and with anticipation, came a dance.

  Erika leaned forward. Yes the Lamia was ugly and it shouldn’t be on the Hell’s Ark, but she couldn’t help herself. Her heart thumped at light speed, because how could someone not be excited to see something that no one else had? At Erika’s side, Luther leaned forward, too.

  The Lamia reached out again, as if a second attempt would bring the food closer. It lurched across the floor, crushing plants under its bulk. It swiped out this time. Its limb crashed onto the ground with a boom. Erika felt the ground tremble under her feet.

  The Lamia drew its limbs close to its body. In the wild, the Lamia drew its limbs in before it began the dance.

  Erika held her breath.

  The Lamia’s limb shot out impossibly far. It hit the food dispenser, making it swing upside down. The food splattered onto the ground.

  The Lamia roared. It descended upon the fallen slop, and scraped it into its gaping hole of a mouth.

  Erika sighed through her teeth.

  Luther turned his attention to the console, and tapped away. He was filling out a report on the experiment.

  Erika stared at the controls in front of her.

  “This thing,” she muttered.

  “Something wrong with the dispenser?” Luther asked.

  “There’s something wrong with this entire creature,” Erika said. “That was, what, our seventh attempt to make it dance? We should have this figured out by now. Or, something about the Lamia’s behavior. All we know is that it doesn’t like to cooperate.”

  Erika realized that she didn’t follow orders, either. A smile played on Luther’s lips, because he realized the irony, too. When he saw Erika’s severe expression, he dropped the smile.

  “If we can’t make the Lamia follow instructions, we can let its own behavior shine,” Luther said. “I’m sure SmallWorld would like the creature just the way it is.”

  “You don’t really think that, do you?” Erika said.

  “Well.” Luther rubbed his chin. “The Lamia is, on its own, an incredible creature. People would pay to see its corpse, if that’s what we brought.”

  Erika pressed her lips into a thin line. She wanted to believe Luther, she really did, but some deep part of Erika’s brain wouldn’t let her.

  She returned the food dispenser’s car to its housing.

  “Are we going to run the experiment again?” Erika asked.

  Luther’s eye glowed blue as he checked the time on his IRIS.

  “We’ll take care of it later, after we’ve gotten some rest,” Luther said. “I’m tired. Are you tired?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. I was hoping it wasn’t just age talking.”

  Erika and Luther made a final check on the Lamia and its enclosure, and when they found nothing wrong, they left. The lab was cleaned up and empty.

  You didn’t walk away from the experiment empty-handed. You know the Lamia can stretch its limbs out to reach further than you expected. That could be used for an attraction, if all else fails.

  Erika and Luther stepped into the decontamination chamber, then out of the lab. By that time, Erika had the sketch of an idea.

  “Before we leave,” Erika said. “I was thinking that–”

  A boom.

  The wall lunged at Erika. She put her hands out to catch herself. Through the haze of meds, her shoulder barked in anger.

  Luther stumbled next to Erika. He didn’t manage to catch himself, and slammed his shoulder against the wall. He grimaced, then turned his attention to Erika.

  “Are you okay?” He asked.

  “Are you?” Erika responded.

  “I’ll bruise, but I’ll live.” Luther said.

  The Ark’s gravity returned to normal. Erika and Luther stepped away from the wall.

  Erika stared at the ceiling as if it would give her an answer. Then she looked to Luther.

  “What just happened?” She asked.