Freeport Eleven: Medical

[Haste]

Her mind, already weakened by sedatives, began slipping away, falling into a painless — but welcome sleep. The hum of medical machinery and the lingering scent of antiseptic slowly gave way to a profound silence. Darkness, an absence of everything.

But it wasn't quite sleep that gripped her. The very same alien that had led her to her current state was methodically burrowing into her mind. It was child's play — the pathways were already well-established through repeated, extensive contact. It had grown accustomed to connecting with this psyche.

In the recesses of the alien's recollection, an image surfaced — Catherine White's body adrift in a Ghoul's shattered cockpit canopy. It was a natural consequence of preceding events, but an untenable situation. Human life was so very feeble, so easy to snuff out. If this individual was to be of any use, the events of that day could not be allowed to repeat. The dangers of direct contact were too severe.

The Nomad's work was nearly complete. All of the woman's sensory pathways were firmly under its control. She would see what it wanted her to see. Smell what it wanted her to smell. Hear what it wanted her to hear.

---

Catherine felt a gentle nudge against her side. The tiny nose of a small, squirrel-like creature was poking into her flank. She awoke, reaching out to determine the cause of that strange feeling. Frightened by the sudden motion, the small animal skittered away, its luminescent markings leaving trails of light in the air as it disappeared into the underbrush of the surrounding forest.

The lush carpet of the forest floor cradled her. A familiar feeling. She'd been here before. In this glade, in this forest. The Nomad had brought her here only a few days ago. It was a place constructed by the alien mind, either from its imagination or, perhaps, from memory. The small lake in the center of the forest clearing mirrored the stars above, a tranquil reflection of the night sky.

In the mindscape, Catherine's corporeal woes didn't affect her, leaving her senses keen and sharp. She heard it again — that familiar, rhythmic drumming of tiger-like paws connecting with the foliage-covered soil. By now, she knew what this meant: her host announcing its presence.