Very shortly before they put him under, he received a call. It didn’t come through the Partheni comms officer, nor did it apparently register on their system or leave a record of its coming and going. It was just a familiar voice issuing out of the speaker beside his bed, taking its moment when none of the crew were around. “Idris? Do I find you well?” Idris stared at the grey-blue of the ceiling. “Ash.” “None other.” He pictured the alien, its inhuman form crammed into a robe in the universe’s least successful attempt at mimicry. Ash, speaking all languages, bearing ominous warnings, a
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