Knock Knock: an interactive serial (Part 3)

This is part three of my occasional sci-fi serial about a science team dealing with an alien intruder on their romote research bate. After each installment, readers get a week to make a choice that will inform what happens next. You can read the first two installments on the series page.

When last we left our intrepid heroes, one of them had snapped and elected to threaten the intruder with a gun. I asked the readers to vote on how things played out, and this is how things broke down.

With 50% of the readership choosing the path of peace, we rejoin Captain Finn and the crew of Remote Research Station Denki as they try to calm things down.


KNOCK KNOCK (A Serial With Reader Interaction)

Part Three: Breaking Protocol

Finn broke eight kinds of protocol and turned his back on the intruder. “Luce, I need you to put the gun down,” they said. “Tse’s hurting, but she’s in one piece. There’s no reason to escalate this.”

The shotgun trembled in Lucy’s grip. Tears beaded in the corner of her eyes, and Finn figured the first signs of shock were setting in. They didn’t blame her; the looming presence of the intruder at Finn’s back hung there like a sword of Damocles, and they had no doubt all three would suffer if Lucy pulled the trigger.

“Luce, we’re outclassed here.” Finn kept their voice calm and measured, trying to pull her focus off the intruder. “Whatever our visitor is, it’s not immediately hostile, and it possesses technology that outstrips our own. You open fire, and this goes downhill fast. I’m not sure—”

“DESIST!”

“Shut up,” Finn barked. “Luce, I know you’re scared here. Trust me, I’ve soiled my pants a dozen times since our guest arrived. But this isn’t the way.”

Lucy’s tears spilled over, and the shotgun barrel trembled. Even if she pulled the trigger, odds were it wouldn’t hit the intruder. Best-case scenario, the shot went wide. Worst-case scenario, it caught Finn in the chest and knocked them on their ass.

“DESIST!” the intruder bellowed, and it steeled Lucy’s resolve. She squared her shoulders and ground her jaw, her gaze offering a silent apology to Finn. 

“Luce, I’m giving you an order. Stand down. Stand down, dammit. Don’t do—”

Tse lurched across the C&C and caught Lucy with a shoulder. She spun in place and the shotgun kicked in her grip, submission rounds splattering against the wall. The pair of them fell to the floor, struggling over the weapon, and Finn’s stomach dropped as they to see check the intruder’s response.

“Please, we’ve got this under control. Give us a moment—”

“DESIST!”

“We’re trying, goddamnit.” Finn risked leaving the intruder unattended and vaulted the console, rushing to break up the struggle. They kicked the shotgun away, hauled Lucy off and grappled both her arms, locking them tight against her side. Lucy wept, kicking, but there wasn’t much fight remaining. It’d taken all she had to pull the trigger, and now the adrenaline receded, surrendering her to the crash.

Tse peeled themselves off the floor, wincing as she put her weight on the left arm. The intruder hadn’t moved, a stoic pillar looming by the airlock, observing the conflict between the crew. Finn tightened their grip on Lucy, held her as she wept. “Finn, you okay?”

“Head’s fuzzy and my arm’s frelled, but I’m still kicking,” Tse said. “Want me to grab a terminal?”

“Please,” Finn said. “Stowe the shotgun first. We don’ tneed a repeat of this, yeah?”

Tse scrambled to collect the weapon, favouring her leg. The intruder tracked the movement, the insectoid mask inscrutable. 

“Slow and steady,” Finn warned. “Don’t startle our friend.”

“On it, Cap.”

Finn braced themselves for an incident, or another bellowed command, but the only sounds were Tse’s uneven footsteps and Lucy’s near-silent weeping. Whatever urgency their visitor felt, compelling them to offer three commands in rapid succession, had passed and permitted them a momentary respite. Tse returned the weapon to their locker, although she didn’t reset the case and seal them in. She collected a terminal and handed it off to Finn, retreated to their station at the main C&C desk. The simple act of lowering herself into the smart-foam seat involved some awkward manoeuvring, and Finn thought of rookie pilots trying their first Zero-G docking run. 

Their intruder loomed, implacable. It hadn’t spoken in over a minute, the interval between its admonishments longer than Finn had come to expect. The changed piqued their attention, and they tested a hypothesis. Finn adjusted their grip on the terminal one-handed, still holding Lucy with the other. A thumbprint brought the controls to life, giving them command of the station’s systems.

The intruder’s head swung in Finn’s direction. “DESIST.” 

Finn killed the connection and let the terminal go dormant. They waited, counting off the seconds, barely daring to breathe lest it provoke a response. The intruder loomed by the airlock, still hovering a half-inch above the metal floor, the multifaceted lenses of its helmet staring into the empty space. A minute rolled by without movement, then stretched into a second. Tse drowsed in their chair, fighting the urge to pass out. Lucy finally ran out of tears, the wracking sobs giving way to sagging shoulders and boneless resignation. Finn risked letting her go, easing back to a standing position. 

They raised the terminal and thumbed it to life, activating the low-level scan. 

“DESIST.”

Finn desisted, killing the sweep with a flick of the thumb.

“Alright,” they said. “We can work with this.”

At first, it took focused concentration to ignore the intruder and tend to the crew. Finn collected a medkit and inspected Tse’s injuries, established the concussion was mild and the arm merely sprained. Bindings and pain relief soon followed, and Finn set Tse the task of watching the intruder for any signs of movement. “Don’t touch a console unless you have to,” Finn ordered. “Whatever that is, it’s responding to scans and weapons. Call me if anything changes.”

Tse attempted a half-hearted salute with her injured hand, eyes already locked on the looming figure by the airlock. Finn moved on to Lucy, dragging the ensign to her feet. The tall woman refused to look at the intruder, huddled close to Finn as they hustled her into the living quarters in the next compartment. For all they lived in tight quarters, it was rare Finn found themselves pressed close to either of their crew. They could feel Lucy’s hammering pulse and the warm exhalation of her unsteady breath. 

They made it past the bulkhead before Lucy lurched and clutched at Finn’s arm. “Chest hurts,” she murmured. “That thing’s doing something to it.”

“Maybe, but I’m guessing that’s the adrenaline talking.” Finn pried her hand loose and squeezed it, trying to give her a focus other than racing thoughts and the flight-or-fight impulse. “Remember your training: everything’s going to be hazy while your body purges the stress hormones.”

Lucy nodded, already sucking down a deep breath to steady herself. Probably not even conscious of it—basic spent a lot of time instilling breathing slow as the first response to panic. It saved more lives than guns and pikes, and consumed less oxygen than the rapid inhalation that accompanied the limbic system’s response to danger. 

“Good word,” Finn said. “I’m getting you to your bunk, Luce. I want you to breathe and pull your shit together. Don’t come back until you’ve got a handle on things. Whatever else our friend out there might be, they’re responding to scans and displays of anger, which means we’ve gotta play this calm and slow for a stretch. Can you do that for me?”

Lucy answered with a mute nod, and she permitted Finn to guide her into the corridor, into the next compartment. The intruder’s eyes burned a hole in Finn’s spine, and they were acutely aware of every moment being tracked even as they passed the bulkhead. No way of telling if the damn thing could see through walls, but Finn assumed it was operating on a sensor array far more advanced than their own. They got Lucy to her cramped quarters and sealed her in, then affected a sense of calm as they hustled back to C&C.

Tse sat in their foamcore chair, staring the intruder down. Her jaw set, her hands idly sketching the intruder’s features onto the surface of a tablet, capturing a visual record to supplement any images stored on the station’s drives. An archaic habit, but a useful one. Digital imagery skewed perspectives, and supplemental sketches could restore a sense of context. Finn crossed the room and settled into the empty seat beside Tse, and the Intruder tracked the movement.

Finn glanced over Tse’s shoulder and nodded their approval at the sketch. “How we doing?” 

“Like a statue you killed the scan,” Tse said. “How’s Lucy?”

“Shaken, but fine. You?”

“Meds are kicking in. I’ll heal,” Tse said. “You got a plan for dealing with this, cap?”

Finns shook their head. “Protocol’s out the window and we’re flying blind,” they said. “Figure we’ll take it slow and steady, gather data the old-fashioned way. Let’s see if we can provoke something other than a defensive response.”

Tse bit her lower lip and tensed up, but she didn’t object to the plan. Finn motioned for her to keep sketching, then eased her weight off the chair and cautiously approached their visitor. With each step, she waited for the order to desist, bracing herself for a violent rebuttal. Instead, she got within an arm’s length before she came to a halt, trading a long stare with the impassive facemask of the encounter suit.

“My name is Captain El Finn of the Remote Station Denki. My colleagues and I are here on a research mission, and we mean you no harm. Any hurt we’ve caused so far was the result of scans—scientific data-gathering with no overtly violent connotations. You have our apologies, but we’re a skittish species and you scared us half to death. We like to understand what we’re dealing with, so I’m going to ask you straight up: who are you? What do you want?”

The Intruder’s head swung in Tse’s direction with a whir of gears, then back to Finn a moment later. It stared impassively, but without the adrenaline surging, Finn could hear the faint whine of mechanisms inside the encounter suit. The whisper-soft interplay of moving parts allowing the neck to articulate. 

“Please,” Finn said. “We’re not trying to hurt you. We’re just want to understand. What do you want?”

The Intruder lifted its head and stared into the distance. Finn caught a click, some audio mechanism coming online, a split second before the intruder spoke a single word.

Knock Knock: an interactive sci fi serial (Part 2)

Part two of my sci-fi serial where readers get to choose what happens next. When we encountered the three-person team manning Remote Research Station Denki back in part 1, they were surprised by a mysterious knock on the door…and no details appearing on any scans. Readers go to vote on how they responded, and I’ve included the results below!

Two readers had very specific suggestions (one bloodthirsty, one polite), but overwhelmingly, the response was opening the door and letting the visitor in.

With that, it’s time to kick off part two.

KNOCK KNOCK (A Serial With Reader Interaction)

Part 2: Boarding Procedures

Tse raised the first tentative hand, stealing a glance at the airlock door as she did so. “Not sure how long that’ll hold,” she said. “Whatever’s out there might not be hostile, but we know a breach will mess us up.”

Finn squared their jaw, masking the gut-rending surge of fear beneath a veneer of command stoicism. “Luce?”

“No way in hell,” Lucy said.

Finn expelled a long breath, fingers clawing at the armrest of their chair. No majority meant the decision fell to them, and the guilty voice inside their skull smugly reminded them they were in charge—it always should have been their call. Finn screwed their eyes shut, blocking out Lucy’s pleading look and Tse’s wary anticipation. Denki’s hull could withstand meteor impacts at velocities up to 55 meters per second, and the design had survived worse in testing. Tse’s fears had merit, but the shell was sturdy – if their visitor could break in, they had bigger worries than decompression.

“I vote we open,” Finn said. “Cautiously. Luce, get ready to pressurize the airlock and break the seal. Tse, break out the boarding kit, just in case they’re hostile.”

Finn’s orders elicited curt, efficient nods, but nobody moved to comply. They were all braced for the next knock, waiting for the echoing boom against the hull, and its absence felt more terrifying than its presence might have been.

“Maybe they heard us,” Tse joked.

They exchanged a long, nervous look in the aftermath, then silently turned and went to work. It was easier to ignore the creeping whisper that Tse’s joke might have been genuine consideration when they were in motion.

The navy didn’t equip remote research stations for major trouble. Their boarding kit comprised three telescoping pikes and gel-packed shotguns designed to take the fight out of boarders without puncturing the hull. Theoretically, enough to hold off a raiding party, on the off chance a pirate crew found themselves this far out and desperate. Ill-suited to a more focused raid, where protocol demanded the crew surrender or blow the station, depending on the odds of surviving the assault.

Tse slung a shotgun over one shoulder, underhanded a pike to Finn. They caught it one-handed and took a position by the airlock, telescoping the weapon to its full two-meter length, sharp-blade pointed toward the door. Standard precaution against boarding; in theory, it didn’t take many pikes to hold a narrow bulkhead or airlock, but in practice Finn felt like they were trying to stop a hurricane with a toothpick.

BOOM… BOOM! The station shook, and Finn dropped into a wide stance, giving themselves stability for the fight ahead. Tse fell into place behind, covering the doorway with the gun. Lucy’s fingers danced across the console. “Still nothing on the sensors, but we’re ready to open on your mark, Cap.”

“Do it,” Finn said. “Let’s meet out visitor face-to-face.”

The hiss of pressurization freed Lucy up to join Finn at the door. She extended a second pike and fell into the same wide stance, training taking over despite the nerves and uncertainty. Finn sucked down a deep breath and steadied their breathing, but couldn’t hide the wince as the magnetic seals released. The airlock slid open, two halves parting for the central seam. Air hissed out as the two chambers matched pressure, and the down-lights in the airlock cast a bright sheen against the black, chitinous shoulders of their intruder.

Any thought that it might be human evaporated in that instant. The intruder was large—easily two feet taller than Tse, the tallest of their team—and wore an encounter suit unlike anything Finn had encountered in fifteen years as a spacer. The black lacquered armor gleamed and shimmered in the light, and it lacked the sleek, body-suit design humanity had spent two centuries refining, moving away from the overstuffed marshmallow suits used during their first forays into space. The visitor hadn’t moved since the seal broke, one arm raised to knock once more, even without the door.

Instinct told Finn to lash out, test the pike blade against the thick armor plating. Get some confirmation self-defense was possible, that they weren’t engaging in a futile effort. Training kept him from making the wrong move. “I’m Captain Dagda Finn of the SolGov research station Denki. We mean you no harm, but we’ll defend ourselves if you take hostile action. Please identify yourself and lay down your weapons.”

The intruder lowered a bulky arm, but offered no verbal response. The ponderous weight of its helmet adjusted, fixing upon the pikes and the nervous humans behind them. Finn swallowed their fear and held their ground, prayed neither Tse nor Lucy would break. “We mean you no harm,” Finn repeated, keeping their voice steady and even. “We ask you to identify yourself, or leave our station in peace.”

The intruder inched forward with ponderous inevitability, its vast bulk floating atop the floor rather than taking a step. Finn tensed, lizard-brain flooding their system with adrenaline as it screamed warning that anything that flowed with no apparent means of locomotion was unnatural to a degree worthy of terror. The rational part of them seized upon the far more terrifying revelation: anything that could manipulate gravity and levitate like that, particularly on the personal scale, operated at a level of technology far more advanced than humanity’s efforts.

Adrenaline coursed through Finn’s body, bringing with it the aluminum taste of fear. Lucy’s hand terminal chirped, and she risked a glance at the details. “No life signs in the suit, or and they’re not broadcasting information. Internal sensors can’t get a lock on the chemical composition of their encounter suit—”

“DESIST.”

The word reverberated through the station, delivered in a resonant baritone that filled the room like a physical force. Lucy swallowed and adjusted her grip on the pike, steeling herself against the order. Finn envied her resolve, felt nothing more than an urge to turn and run.

As if there was anywhere to go, beyond the cramped quarters and living area the researchers occupied during downtime.

Finn swallowed their fear, focused on the job. “Desist what? The scan?”

“DESIST.”

Tse rose to her full height, the shotgun tucked against her shoulder. “Three words make a sentence, asshole. Subject, verb, object. If you don’t give us—”

“DESIST!”

The word rolled out like a battering ram, knocking Tse to the floor. The shotgun skittered beneath the console, and Tse’s head smacked the floor hard enough to rattle teeth. Lucy tensed up, ready to lunge, and the intruder’s blunt head twisted to fix her with a bug-like eye. Tse moaned softly, stunned and unable to rise.

“Permission to engage, Cap?” Lucy hissed the question between clenched teeth, the words threaded with anger.

“Negative,” Finn said. “See to Tse.”

“Sir?”

Finn stared at the black glass orb of the intruder’s eye and held their pike at arms length. One thumb to the trigger and the weapon contracted to a neat baton, easily stowed at the belt. “My gut tells me we aren’t going to crack that armor with pig-stickers and riot rounds, and anything that can knock Tse over with a shout can do worse to the station itself. Tend to our injured while I negotiate.”

For a moment, Finn worried Lucy wouldn’t obey. The small woman’s fingers clenched tight on the pike, the blade point dancing like a hummingbird as her own flight or fight instincts waged a war inside her. She risked a glance at Tse’s crumbled form, and the shotgun half-hidden beneath the console, and reached a decision. The pike telescoped into its compact form and Lucy nodded her acknowledgment of the order.

Finn returned their full attention to the intruder and raised both hands. “Weapons away. Scans halted. We’ve complied with your request to desist. You obviously have a command of our language, so I’d ask again: identify yourself. We’re a science team on a research mission, and—”

“DESIST.”

“Desist what?”

The intruder floated a few inches closer, came to a halt two inches short of Finn’s position. The alien had didn’t look down, and up close Finn could make out the dents and chips in the armor. Damage from fast-moving micro-debris, the result of long-term exposure to the fragments hurtling through the void at high velocity. Whoever their intruder was, it had endured one hell of a beating and come through no worse for wear. Finn doubted any weapon they had aboard was going to a damn thing against armor that strong. Hell, they doubted blowing the station was going to put a dent in an opponent who wore an encounter suit with armor plating most station engineers would envy.

For a few empty seconds, Finn allowed themselves to sink into the importance of the moment: odds were, their intruder wasn’t entirely human; odds were, they’d made first contact between humanity and whatever species was locked away inside that suit. Odds were, they were making history, assuming they didn’t fuck it up and get Denki station torn apart by pissing this damn thing off.

Finn sucked down a long breath to steady their nerves. “Luce, how’s Tse doing?”

“Beat up, but still breathing,” Tse answered, her voice weaker than Finn would have liked.

“Probable concussion,” Lucy added. “Hit her head pretty good, cap.”

“Can you get her to med bay?”

“Negative.” Tse clambered to her feet, taking each movement slow. She limped over to stand beside Finn, arching her neck to stare up at the insect-faced helmet. “I ain’t turning my back on our friend here, not until we got more intel to work with.”

Finn caught Tse’s eye, acknowledged the tall woman’s resolve with a nod. “Alright. Let’s try this another way—no scans, no weapons, just some good old-fashioned research work. Tse, you give us some space, ‘cause this is going to get stupid. Luce, can you hand me a hand-terminal? We’ll try another scan and see if that’s enough to provoke another’s defensive response.”

The clatter of movement behind them alerted Finn that Lucy had other ideas. They half-turned, caught sight of her dropping into a defensive crouch by the main console, Tse’s discarded shotgun trained on the intruder. Her finger rested against the trigger, ready to open fire.

“I’m afraid I can’t comply, cap.”

Finn swore. That was the problem with fight-or-flight in space: too few damn places to run to…


You can vote for what happens next using the form below.

The vote will stay open until Midnight, July 13

Knock Knock: an interactive sci fi serial (Part 1)

A few months back, I wrote a little vignette while experimenting with tools from Mary Robinette Kowal’s flash fiction workshop on Patreon. The end result wasn’t quite a stand-alone flash piece, and wasn’t quite a short story, but something in between—the opening scene of a longer story.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t a story I was going to pursue with any real determination. In a lot of ways, I’m playing with a familiar trope, and I wrote it as a fun exercise rather than any ambition to sell it.

But posting to my Patreon gave me the idea of doing a story developed in serial, writing scenes that bring things to a major decision point and giving readers the chance to vote on what happens next. Alas, voting proved hard to set up on many of my usual platforms than expected — turns out mailing out a poll to subscribers is a premium service for my newsletter provider, and cost more than I’m willing to pay on a project that’s just for fun.

And so we take it low tech: a blog, a google form, and a 1500 word stretch of fiction that posits one very important question. I’ll leave voting open until May 20th, 2022, then take the results and work on part two.

KNOCK KNOCK (A Serial With Reader Interaction)
Part 1: Suddenly, A Knock On The Airlock Door

The knock on the interior airlock door startled everyone. Finn’s heart raced as they turned from their console and exchanged a bewildered glance with Lucy and Tse—but judging by their crew’s facial expressions, everybody was in the dark. Finn checked the readings in case the team missed something, but no warning or trajectory marker sprang out to explain their visitor. There were no life signs within five thousand clicks of Denki Outpost, and sure as shit, there were no inhabitants on the irradiated planet they orbited.

Whatever occupied the airlock knocked a second time. Curt, sharp knocks that echoed through the cramped confines of Denki C&C. Tse mouthed the words ‘what the actual fuck,’ and Lucy’s professionalism fought the wild-eyed expression of a woman ready to a scream. Someone needed to step up and take charge of the situation, and the insignia on the uniform Finn hadn’t worn since they launched two years back meant they were the obvious choice.

“Anybody expecting visitors?”

A feeble joke to break the tension, and Tse offered a courtesy chuckle. Lucy clenched her fists, seemingly open to the idea of lunging across C&C to strangle Finn, and probably would have if the third knock hadn’t sapped the last skerrick of humour out of the wisecrack.

Finn went into command mode. “Tse, double-check our sensor array. Ensure everything’s hunky dory, and this isn’t just a bug that left us flying blind since the automated diagnostic. Luce—run through the external footage. Let the AI do pattern recognition, see if spots anything approaching and—“

The fourth knock, slow and ominous. As if they’d switched to a heavier hand. Or a sledge hammer. This time, Lucy shrieked. Still, she was a pro. Her fingers burst into motion a half-second behind Tse, following orders as she forced her breathing to steady.

Finn crossed over to the airlock seal and employed a more analogue, non-scientific response. They raised a fist and knocked in return, three sharp raps against the worn metal. Tse’s head bolted up, as if astonished they’d engaged, and Finn offered a shrug of apology.

They all waited, breath held, quietly hoping that would be the end.

The next knock echoed like asteroids hammering against the hull, and the whole station shook with the impact. Finn stumbled and fell on their ass, while Tse and Lucy clutched at their consoles to avoid a similar fate. “Scanners are working clean,” Tse reported.

“Nothing on the visuals,” Lucy added. “And systems don’t show any sign of the outer doors opening in the last twenty-four standard.”

Their visitor knocked again. Boom…Boom… Finn counted the seconds between them, as if one were lightning and the next thunder, the interval offering some new information that technology hadn’t provided. They cursed whatever screwless designer insisted there was no need for cameras in the station’s airlock.

“My Da used to tell ghost stories about the phantom airlocks on his home ship,” Tse said. The tall woman was a born spacer, a third-gen drifter who’d lived more hours in the void than Finn had spent on a planetary system. “The dead returned on All Hallows’s Cycle to visit the places they ended up deceased.”

“Except it ain’t All Hallows,” Finn said. “And we caught Denki’s first rotation. The station was fresh off the line — I doubt it’s a fucking ghost.”

Tse squared her jaw. “You got a better explanation?”

Finn didn’t, but the next knock saved them from having to admit that out loud.

BOOM! Then the interminable wait, eight seconds at least, before the second BOOM! shook the outpost once more.

Finn steadied themselves against the wall this time, pushed down the panic clawing at his throat. “Any chance we can vent the airlock, give whatever’s in there a taste of the void?”

“We don’t know what it is,” Tse said. 

“You in a hurry to find out?”

Tse worried her lower lip, hands dancing across the consol. The hiss of oxygen leaking gave them all some comfort. Slowly, intractably, the sensors confirmed the lock was empty, even as the exterior seal cranked itself opened. 

Lucy brought the external camera up on the main screen, showed them the backdrop of distant stars and red-scorched planet visible from their side. She nudged the joystick, trying to get an angle on the door itself, but the best they could do was a broadside glimpse of Denki Outpost’s flank. Not perfect, but they’d spot any occupant of the airlock floating away once they void did its thing.

Nothing floated out there except a few stray barrels, unsecured debris from the airlock ready to load into the next supply run.

The knocking returned—BOOM… BOOM—as if the vent hadn’t even occurred.

They sat, mute, as the seconds passed. Finally, Finn spoke: “If this is one of you playing some sick joke, speak now and we’ll agree you’ve pulled an all-time classic.”

“It’s not mine,” Tse said, and Lucy confirmed she was innocent with a nod. Both squinted at Finn, puzzling out whether their captain might pull a trick like this to break the monotony and write it off as a team-building exercise. Judging by the speed of their fading suspicion, the theory didn’t gain any traction. 

Probably because I’m ready to piss myself, Finn thought. They drew a deep breath and forced a thin veneer of authority over their fear. “Seal the airlock and restore the atmosphere. If this hasn’t stopped them—“

BOOM! 

The noise caught Finn by surprise, and they jumped. Adrenaline surged, but they ignored it, counting seconds. BOOM! There were thirteen before the follow up now. Getting slower, growing louder, no discernable pattern to the escalation.

“If emptying the airlock didn’t stop them,” Finn said, picking up the thread, “then I doubt there’s anything we’ve got in here that’s going to discourage them. That leaves us with two obvious alternatives moving forward, and neither of them are good.”

Tse perked up, as if the thought of choice somehow eluded her. “Roll out the options.”

“One: we ignore it and hope it goes away,” Finn said. “Praying that whatever is knocking at our door is ultimately harmless, and we make it until the next supply ship arrives in three months’ time,”

“Let’s call that Plan B,” Tse said. “What’s the other option?”

“We open up and let it in.” Lucy’s voice was soft, resigned to what had to happen. She flipped the controls, ready to comply with Finn’s order. “Airlock will be human-inhabitable in approximately two minutes.”

“We ain’t opening up,” Tse said. “I don’t care what Finn says. Something tracks you down in the middle of deep space, no explanation, no signs of violence? You keep your habitat sealed tight and take your chances that it can’t break its way inside.”

“Would claim it as my first choice,” Finn said, “but there are no good options.”

“It’s better than the other proposition,” Tse argued. “I not keen on meeting whatever’s out there.”

“Me either,” Finn said. “But it is what it is. Regulations don’t cover this, so we all vote on the play. All in favour, raise—“

BOOM! 

The floor shook under them, so hard Finn wondered if this time the station would shatter under the impact. The shaking knocked Tse out of her chair, and Lucy’s face took on the green cast of someone about to vomit. 

BOOM!

Finn figured it for thirty-seven seconds. Longer gaps between knocks, but each one hit harder. They sucked in a deep breath and closed their eyes, not sure they could meet Tse’s stare or Lucy’s panicked expression.

“Alright, time to vote,” Finn said. “All in favour of letting our visitor in, please raise your hand.”