The FlipMature

You could drown a small star in the tension on the bridge. Time dragged hatefully as we drifted from scanner to dock, everyone frozen in place in case the good Keeper wanted to talk. Slowly, the weirdness of all of us just sitting, near motionless, looking like a diversity advertisement for the worst possible child care service, occurred to the four of us and we cracked.

We'd been keeping the intercom open so that if something went down everybody was up to speed, so for Tom and Zid there was just a sudden cacophony of buzzing and chittering giggles filling the ship. Which was non-optimal under such high stress circumstances, especially for Zid, who lacked experience with the simultaneous mirthful sounds of at least three of the four species presented. Fortunately, Tom was with him to guide his still-drug-addled mind through the trauma of alien glee.

Unfortunately, Tom's choice of comforting reassurance was, "It's okay, that's real, it's not in your head." No mention of what that sound was, no context. Just, "Hey, that sound that must be the new soundtrack to your nightmares, its not a hallucination, something that makes that noise exists and its close enough to hear." Tom's not the best at helping.

So Zid, suddenly very fucking certain that he was being hunted by some kind of twisted horror from the Deep Black, broke character. "Where is it! Where the FUCK is it!?" Which didn't help because at that point we heard him freaking out and stopped laughing. So now the monster was silent, probably stalking him from the shadows.

The End

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