The Rhode Island landship was a very big when your actually in it, Stepping off the transport, I was immediately funneled into a checkpoint, the air thick with the smell of sanitizer.
"Is this entirely necessary?" I asked, submitting to the thorough, almost invasive, wanding by a heavily armed Operator. The device hummed, scanning me for concealed weapons, contraband.
"Protocol. Proceed," the Operator clipped, his gaze never leaving the scanner.
From there, I was shunted to a medical bay. A terse, white-coated doctor ran a battery of tests, finding my physical health annoyingly robust.
'Nothing wrong with me physically, eh? Shame. I was hoping for some rare disease only I could cure,' I mused internally before touching my legs unconsciously.
My companions my test subjects, I meant were directed to our assigned temporary quarters. But for me, i followed the medical officer and two silent Operators deeper into the ship's core, towards a room that reeked of authority.
"Behave," the escorting Operator warned, his voice a low growl of pure caution.
"But of course," I replied, flashing my most dazzling, most utterly untrustworthy smile.
The Operator simply sighed, then moved aside, gesturing me towards the heavy door. I walked in, immediately confronted by the legendary figure who commanded this entire vessel. Kal'tsit.
She sat at a wide, imposing desk, her green eyes like twin emeralds—piercing, intelligent, and utterly devoid of warmth. Beside her stood the weary figure of the Doctor, and the little bunny girl I recognized as Amiya, both watching me with cautious curiosity.
"So, you are the person who helped the Doctor," Kal'tsit stated, her voice flat, almost accusatory.
I executed a sweeping, dramatic bow that would have been more suited to a baroque ballroom than a military landship. "Sir, ma'am, the name is Agnes Tachyon." I blew a theatrical kiss at my own fingers.
"No need for that," she said, cutting through my performance like a laser. She gestured sharply to a chair. "Sit."
"Thank you." I settled into the seat, my eyes still locked on hers.
Kal'tsit slid a signed document across the desk my contract, already bearing the Doctor's scrawled authorization. "My name is Kal'tsit." She folded her hands.
"Will you fulfill your contract?"
"Of course, I can!" I felt a rush of genuine, infectious pride. "I am Agnes Tachyon, a genuine genius! Give me the task, the resources, and watch me build the future!"
Kal'tsit's expression didn't shift, but her eyes narrowed, seemingly burrowing into my very soul. "We know nothing of you. For all we know, you are a clever fraud. Instead of helping, you may merely endanger our people and waste our precious resources. What guarantee is there that you will live up to this outrageous promise? If you cannot prove your worth immediately, we will simply send you back. Talking to you is a waste of my time."
The challenge in her words was a palpable physical force, a gauntlet thrown. It only made my blood boil.
"Are you challenging me, Kal'tsit? Me, Agnes Tachyon?" I rose slightly out of my chair, a ferocious grin spreading across my face. "Very well then. Give me your hardest challenge."
A tiny, almost imperceptible smirk touched Kal'tsit's lips. She had me. "If you are the genius you speak of," she said, her voice dripping with soft malice, "then it should be easy for you to cure Oripathy."
The statement hung in the air, a shockwave that actually made the Doctor gasp and Amiya's ears twitch with disbelief.
My smirk didn't waver. "I accept your challenge." I leaned in, my gaze unwavering. "If I succeed, you will bow down on your knees and kiss my feet. If I fail… then my fate is up to you."
"Very well." She didn't even acknowledge the absurd demand. "You will be given a laboratory and the necessary resources for you to manufacture this 'cure'." With a curt nod, she dismissed me.
I returned to my companions, a triumphant spring in my step, and recounted the entire conversation. The immediate reaction was not one of awe, but pure, protective fury.
"Mistress, they are all wrong!" Martha immediately placed her hands on her hips, channeling a powerful wave of motherly indignation. "You can cure Oripathy! Just do the same thing you did for me and Ruby!"
"I will blow them up, Mistress!" Z23's torpedo launchers snapped into position with a mechanical clack. "I have loaded the Anti-Cat ordnance!"
"Wait, wait, wait! Calm down." I held up a hand, chuckling. "You don't need to do that. After all…" I gave them a wicked, confident smirk, "…I always win."
Meanwhile, with Kal'tsit...
"Kal'tsit, why would you give her that task? That is almost impossible," the Doctor questioned, still rubbing the bridge of his nose.
Kal'tsit watched the closed door, her gaze distant. "Her pride will be her downfall. Giving her the taste of defeat will be… instructive. However, she has a truly brilliant, albeit dangerously unhinged, mind. Having her here, contained and working, is an asset."
"Her arrogance will be her own destruction, then," the Doctor murmured, understanding dawning.
"Correct, Doctor." Kal'tsit nodded once, decisive and absolute.
The lab they assigned me was far too sterile and, frankly, boring. I ignored the fancy equipment and instead got straight to work. On the nearest counter sat a bucket of suspiciously luminous Minecraft Milk one of my essential starting materials. I was already carefully mixing in distilled water, a necessary precaution, since drinking pure Minecraft Milk would, in my experience, immediately kill anyone whose name wasn't Steve.
"Hehehe! Look at the materials they gave me!" I crowed, grinning wide. My mind was already mapping out complex schematics for weaponizing the ship's cafeteria.
"Z23, hand me that," I instructed, pointing to a large box bearing a conspicuously giant, blood-red cross.
"Understood." Z23, ever the diligent adjutant, grabbed the box and presented it to me.
"Good. With the phenomenal head-healing capabilities of a TF2 Medigun Health Kit, I can ensure the patients don't immediately die from the Milk's… initial side effects. Good, good." I continued my work, pulling out a glowing, oversized bandage. "Z23, hold this."
Amiya and the Doctor were watching through a small observation window on the door, their expressions a mix of confusion and horror.
'She's certainly… interesting,' the Doctor thought, fascinated by the chaotic genius unfolding before him.
Before he could process the sight of the glowing milk, Z23 who had apparently already registered the Doctor's gaze gave him a chilling, utterly serious look, then calmly placed a large, opaque piece of gray cloth directly over the window.