Chapter Text
The reception desk of Division 47 was sterile, cold, the receptionist glaring at Jenny over half moon glasses, his lips tight, his brows furrowed. Jenny tried to stare back as emotionlessly as she could, but it was hard not to shiver beneath the glower and seething distrust this man held for her, even as her father explained why she was here at all. With a snippy remark about calling up the General to double check their claims, the receptionist rolled his chair over to the telephone and started dialling in a number. Jenny leaned in close to Glarn.
“I thought you said they were expecting me.”
“This whole project is a ‘need to know basis’ deal, and the receptionists don’t need to know.” Glarn whispered back, shutting up as the receptionist wheeled back and suggested Glarn take Jenny straight to the General’s office, handing over Glarn’s employee badge and Jenny’s visitor badge. Glarn ushered Jenny along quickly; the general was not to be trifled with.
As they passed through cold, metal corridors, interspersed by covert op military personnel and top gun fighter pilots, Jenny tried not to focus on all the stares she got as she passed. She had grown somewhat accustomed to it, being a Curious, but there was such distrust hanging in the air that it was suffocating. She had half a mind to tell Glarn that she wouldn’t take the job, but… that pay… man that pay.
She needed money for her student debts, there was no two ways around it, and no job she could work would come anywhere close to paying what the military was offering. Even if it could, the job market wasn’t in her favour right now. They’d said a nursing degree would get her anywhere, but the hospital wasn’t hiring right now, and the nursing home had let her go two weeks ago at the end of her probation, to save on giving her that promised pay rise. Bastards.
Glarn stopped outside a large, red, metal door, knocking on it before stepping aside for Jenny to take his place. Jenny glanced back at him, worry evident across her face.
“I can’t go in, Jenny. It’s all need to know, and I don’t need to know either. Just, promise me you won’t do anything stupid, if you mess up I could lose my job too.”
“No pressure then,” Jenny declared, wiping her sweaty palms down her trousers. It wouldn’t do to make a bad first impression.
At the barked order to open the door, Glarn gave her two thumbs up and walked away, while Jenny cautiously opened the door, behind which stood a desk overladen with papers and telephones, and behind it, General Chip Grunt. As far as neighbours went, he was… fine, she supposed. Generally nicer to speak to than his son. But she’s heard stories from some of the cadets in her school about his fierce temper and no-holds-barred approach to the military. Just seeing him in full uniform was intimidating enough without they way he eyed her up and down like a spectacle.
“Jenny Curious?” He asked.
“Yes, that’s right. That’s me,” Jenny said, almost immediately cringing at her own pathetic introduction.
“Glarn Curious’ daughter, hmm? Got your old man’s interests in the extraterrestrial, do you?”
“No, afraid I don’t. My brothers do, but I’m more interested in helping people here on Earth than theorising about what might be in space.”
“Good, last thing we need is another Glarn running around. One’s bad enough. Did he tell you about the job?”
“He said Division 47 needed a qualified nurse, and that the pay was good, nothing more.”
“Good. He doesn’t need to know more,” Chip declared, reaching into his desk and slamming a pile of notes into the desk, which Jenny watched nervously. “Three thousand simoleons a week, all tax-free. The government knows we pay our taxes and sub-contracts come from that. The work will be long and thankless, with long, unpredictable hours, but the pay should make up for that, and you’ll be staying on base, getting fed. No visitors, no trips out, and no telling anyone what you’ve seen here, got it? This,” Chip pointed to the pile, “is an upfront bonus. Consider it hush money.”
“What sort of work is it?” Jenny asked.
“Nursing work. I cannot say more until you’ve agreed to the terms of employment.”
“Of soldiers?” Jenny pressed, but Chip’s flat, sullen face revealed nothing.
“I cannot say,” Chip picked up the cash and thumbed through it, before reaching it out towards Jenny, and she hesitated to take it. “Count it. There’s plenty there. More than enough to keep you afloat and make your fellow debt-ridden students jealous.”
Jenny cautiously took the money and gently thumbed through it. Damnit, there had to be a couple thousand simoleons here at least, she’d have to work months to make it anywhere else, and she was currently unemployed. She gently returned it to the table as Chip watched.
“How long will my contract last?”
“Difficult to say. A month. Maybe two. At the end, we’ll give you a glowing reference if you keep it all hush, you’ll find work easily, I promise you that.”
She’d already been 80% of the way to accepting the job when she’d woken up that morning, but the bonus, and the promise of a stable job once it was over, was enough to secure those last little niggles, with only one worry remaining, ‘what are they going to make me do?’
“Are you interested?” Chip asked, and Jenny nodded cautiously.
“Yes. Yes, I think so,” she confirmed, and Chip held out his hand for her to shake. It was tough, firm, his grip tight and the actual shake minimal, before he let go, handing Jenny over the pile of money. A sinking feeling in her stomach made her wonder what exactly she’d sold her soul for as she took the cash, stowing it away in her bag, while Chip rose to his feet, handing her a badge.
“Congratulations, Jenny. You officially work for us now. Come, let me show you where you’ll be working.”
He led her through tight, winding corridors, through doors guarded by men armed to the teeth with automatic rifles, who stared at her so intensely as she passed that Jenny couldn’t help but shiver, down stair cases, through restricted zone after restricted zone. He showed her to her temporary quarters, tiny but not shared with anyone, and went deeper still. How far down into the Earth did Division 47 go?
Eventually he came to a stop in a disinfecting chamber, ushering Jenny to wash herself down, while he stayed stock still. Plastic glowns and gloves, plus a thick face mask, all in place, Jenny returned to his side, beside a dulled, one way window.
“You don’t need to worry about your workload too much,” Chip declared. “It’s not so much about quantity as it is quality. We need someone to provide nursing care, but we’re uncertain whether it possesses a risk to ourselves. There is a risk of transmission of diseases we have no protection against.”
“Surely I need stronger protection than this, then?” Jenny asked. Chip looked her up and down and shrugged.
“You need to discuss that with the doctors, I’m not medically trained to decide that,” Chip huffed. “You only have the one patient, so don’t worry about cross contamination.”
One patient only? And all that hush money? Jenny was wracking her brains trying to figure out who exactly they were asking her to help, maybe a scientist who made his own bio weapon and let it lose? Maybe a soldier who’s stumbled upon some of her father’s research and gotten sick with an unknown disease? Chip reached over and illuminated the one way window, finally allowing Jenny a look at her patient.
It wasn’t a scientist. And it certainly wasn’t a soldier.
Tightly fastened down to a hospital bed, with large, pitch black eyes wincing in the bright white lights, with bizarre green skin, was her patient. It wasn’t moving much, just moving it’s head around, as if looking for something, but for what, it was unknown. Jenny couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips, what on earth was this? What off earth was this?
“We recovered a crashed ship the other day, and dragged this thing out, still alive. It doesn’t speak simlish, before you ask. Our doctors have been trying to help it in what ways they can and performing non-invasive tests to find out what the hell it is.”
“It’s an alien,” Jenny stated, watching as those big black eyes blinked for the first time since they’d started watching. There was something very… unsettling about the way it moved. Something entirely inhuman about it.
“That it is. And it needs nursing care, someone to keep an eye on it while the doctors make their plans. We don’t know which of our drugs will help it, and which will kill it. We need someone who can keep it comfortable while we figure it all out. Do you understand?”
“You’re paying me to take care of an alien and to never speak about it to anyone?” Jenny asked, and watched as the alien tried half-heartedly to pull at the restraints around its left arm, before after a few futile attempts it collapsed back onto the bed.
“Precisely. While the doctors are working on it, you’ll be allowed to sleep and eat, but otherwise you are to stay with it and make sure it’s kept healthy. Once the alien leaves the care of our doctors, you will no longer be needed and your contract will end. Is that clear?”
“Crystal clear,” Jenny agreed. “Is there anything I need to know before I start?”
“Be careful of it touching you, skin on skin. It likes to try and grab people who get too close. Everyone who’s been touched has reported intense pain until they disengage from it. No signs of lasting effects, but it shakes people up.”
“Great,” Jenny muttered aloud, watching as the alien’s fingers twitched and twisted against the hospital bed. Tied down like that, it was unlikely to grab her successfully unless she got too close. At least, she hoped that was the case.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it. The doctors have kept notes on its case in the room, read through those and get started,” Chip announced, clapping Jenny’s shoulder as he passed, leaving her alone in the little wash station. She took a deep breath and readied herself to enter the alien’s room.
As soon as she opened the door, she heard it start chattering, wrenching it’s head up off of the bed to watch her enter, the chatter slow, methodical, with a rhythm she couldn’t place and a metallic sound to it that almost made it sound musical. There were no sounds she could definitively pinpoint as a familiar word, but it didn’t stop the alien from trying to talk to her. She closed the door behind her and stepped closer to it, watching as its closest hand pulled against the bindings again, desperately trying to reach her. She inched backwards, trying to quash her rising panic. What had she gotten herself into this time?!
“Hello,” she started dumbly, and the alien went quiet, as if trying to listen to her. When she paused, the alien chattered a small sound back, quiet, almost hesitant. “Hello, my name is Jenny, I’ll be looking after you. Are you comfortable right now?”
When she stopped speaking, the alien took up its chatter again, pausing as if expecting her to say something. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
She stepped closer to the alien’s legs, keeping an eye on those wrenching hands, but her eyes were drawn to the fingers. Something was dried onto its fingers, something dark, something crusty. Had it been a little more brown, she’s have suspected blood, but it wasn’t quite the right colour. And here and there, she could see the same dirt across the alien’s body, even as it was, half covered by a sheet. She cautiously reached out to scratch at a bit, and the alien’s constant chatter stopped as the dirt flaked off.
“Has no-one washed you?” She asked out loud, before beginning to search for his chart, finally spotting it and opening the folder, reading through the notes. Mostly the doctors had ensured it was getting fluids at least, but actual notes about its care were few and far between. But it looked filthy, this close up. That simply couldn’t do.
She checked the notes through cover to cover, ensuring there was no noted contraindication for a bed bath, before going to set one up for it. The alien’s constant chatter died out when she started cleaning it, and she had no idea whether that was a good sign or not.
As she went about her nursing duties, keeping the alien clean, checking its fluids, ensuring it ate, ensuring it had the chance to drink by itself, she started to notice odd little things. For one, the alien kept trying to grab for her, just as Chip had warned, and when she offered her gloved hand for it to hold, the alien tried to drag the glove off instead, to access the skin underneath. When she snatched her hand back in fear, the alien let it go willingly. It’s bald head seemed to be sprouting tiny tufts of hair, not so long that she needed to clean it differently to the rest yet but her initial impression that the alien’s species was just bald was quickly dashed.
The alien also seemed to want to talk to her.
She still could not understand a word it chattered, but if she spoke the alien went quiet, and when she stopped the alien would chatter again for a short while, almost like it was trying to hold a conversation with her. She tried to see if the alien understood her but couldn’t speak simlish by asking it to lift its head so she could change the pillows, but the alien didn’t respond at all. So maybe it just liked to pretend it was speaking to her, the same as she was doing to it.
After maybe five hours of work, where Jenny had done everything she could think of in the first three hours, wrote notes for the fourth hour, and spent the final hour chattering to the alien, the door to the hygiene station finally opened, and in walked someone decked out in the same clothes as Jenny was in. Almost immediately, the soft chatter from the alien changed, became louder, almost more frantic, but the newcomer paid it no mind.
“You must be the new nurse,” the newcomer stated as Jenny rose to her feet. “I’m Dr Hinks, how is the patient doing?”
Jenny glanced back at the alien, who for the first time since she entered the room was straining against the bindings keeping it tied down to the bed, it’s frantic chatter and grimaces as it moved enough to fill Jenny with dread. “It was quite calm before you came in. It’s only started struggling now.”
“I’m afraid it probably associates the pain of treatment with myself,” Hinks shrugged. “The crash did a number on its body, we’re trying to help but we can’t exactly explain that to it, so it just thinks we’re hurting it for no reason.”
“Poor thing,” Jenny muttered, glancing back at where the alien was still desperately trying to escape, wearing itself out and gasping in pain. “It still looks painful, isn’t there something we can do for that?”
“Be careful about anthropomorphising it. It’s not a sim, there’s no reason to believe it thinks or acts like ourselves,” Hinks warned. “From its anatomy all the way down to its biochemistry, it’s an entirely alien creature, what may appear painful to us might not be for it. And even then, our choices in pain relief are limited. We do not know what drugs will help it and what will kill it, and what classifies as an effective dose and what is a toxic dose. For example, a cardiac medication that extends the life expectancy of dogs by up to two years will instead kill sims in small doses, how can we know what will save this thing and what will kill it outright?”
She supposed it made sense… but her poor patient. Maybe Dr Hinks was right, and assuming she knew how it felt based on sim emotions was wrong, but… but it was hard not to. Its wide open eyes, its straining to get free, the way it gasped and panted and grimaced as it moved any areas marked as ‘injured’ on its notes… there was no doubt about it, it was in pain, and all she could try to do was advocate for it to get better care. And even then, that advocating might end up killing it.
“We’ll see to it now,” Hinks insisted. “Go back to your quarters and rest. We’ll come find you when you’re back on duty.”
Jenny nodded and headed back to the hygiene station, risking one last glance at the alien, who watched her leave with horror in its eyes, or at least, what on a sim face would be described as ‘horror’. She hoped Hinks was right, she hoped the alien wasn’t living through its own personal nightmare.
It took a short while of exploring to find her way back to the small, private room that had been set aside for her, and Jenny sat on the edge of the bed, thinking about all that had transpired this morning. When she woke up, she’d been pretty certain her father and brothers were full of shit, that all these ‘unusual transmissions’ and ‘lights in the sky’ were just conspiracy theories, that Sims were alone in this universe. Now, now she knew she had been wrong. She’d seen an alien with her own two eyes, touched it with her hands, spoken to it like she would any other patient. Her brothers would be jealous, but she couldn’t tell them. No doubt that’s why Chip was pleased to hear she had no interest in aliens. This creature was just another patient, just one who’d taken the phrase ‘looking a little green’ to the logical extreme. A job was a job, and at least this patient wouldn’t be able to verbally berate her like previous ones could.