Contact about the strange thread

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Paul was observing the space monitor.

Chris had decided it was his turn.

His shift to be on patrol.

Tee Gar was fast asleep in his quarters after the operation on Parsafoot.

The concern was growing among the blue team that Medusa may want to launch a attack or try to capture one of them. They kept the past version of the commander out of the loop regarding the issue as he was busy writing and revising a play for the children. The best way to distract a cowardly liar was to turn his attention on to what he excelled the best at. Making a lie into reality. A lie that comforted others when they needed the most. It was a theatrical play that could be done with the amount of make up kept in storage from the comercary, the props, the costumes, and the readily available children recovering from the traumatic experience. Laura was grinning from ear to ear playing her part in the arrangements.

It made Paul smile seeing the children playing pretend as they rehearsed their lines for the historical alternate universe play with wooden swords going "hiyah hiyah hiyah and this and that and this and that you pooh brain!" A big chunk of the reporters were landing their large camera machines into the play. Smith was the writer and the director giving tasks to the people. The academy was quickly turning from a traumatized reeling from its attack into a theater set and the gymnasium was still in the mist of being transformed into something that didn't seem like a gymnasium at all but a set.

"Jupiter 2 to Space Academy,"

"Academy Control here," Paul said.

"Our visitor has become covered in a strange fabric," John said. "A cocoon."

"Let me reroute you to Professor Allen, Professor Robinson," Paul said, then typed on to the console. "Communications, transfer to Professor Allen," he nodded as the woman repeated his request. "Yes, cadet."

"Rerouting," came the woman's voice.

"Thanks," Paul said, then there was the click.


John's eyes felt heavy as he sat down in the chair waiting for the call to be made. He could see the night sky from above that was more familiar to him as was the terrain than it was for the scenery of Earth to be staring back at him. Once, when he looked out the windows all he could see was a city and cars loudly honking. Living in a apartment in New Mexico with his small family. He can still remember the signs of birds flying. Strays littering the scenery. He pinched the bridge of his nose closing his eyes.

"Professor Irwin Allen here, how may I help you?" Allen said.

"This is Professor Robinson," John said. "We have a alien patient with light blue skin, black hair, white eyes, and wears long gloves. What kind of species, I am not sure. But he has rounded ears, light blue blood, and he seemed to be humanoid in nature but not too entirely."

Professor Allen looked at the glowing blue image on the black screen.

"Uh huh," Allen said. "It seems the patient is doing a internal but sometimes external recuperating tactic."

"A recuperating tactic?" John asked.

"Not all species are like Vulcans, sir," Allen said. "These species evolved on a planet where they had to fight against strange monsters and sometimes these monsters were just plain moronic when their opponent was laid unconscious with severe damage. Didn't know what hit them when they were hunted down by them."

Sounds like a human only very different.

"Interesting," John said. "So it's a natural body healing function."

"Yes, sirrey," Allen replied. "This tactic doesn't occur often in the 'Fleet because they get tended to immediately by doctors. So it's not that often that you find a naked person walking down the hall acting like they are still in uniform when they are not," there was silence from the other hand. "This is the kind of patient I would find from a different system not from Alpha Centauri. He is not native there, you know, his species moved there after Dragos conquered their native home planet fifty years ago." Allen shook his head. "That bastard."

"So, what do we do?" John asked.

"Leave him some clothes and tell him that he is naked if he walks out ignoring them outright," Allen said. "Just bare with him," he had a short laugh. "The outfit is destroyed during the healing process. Dissolved."

"How long does the healing process last?" John asked.

"If it's severe externally, I'll say ten days," Allen said. "But if it's just severe electrical burns then I would say five days at most."

"Thank you," John said. "That is most helpful."

"You are very welcome," Allen said.

"Jupiter 2 out," John's voice went out leaving a stunned Allen at the medical station across from Parsafoot.

"Jupiter 2?" Allen said, his eyes big.

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