John took Neal’s nod as an indication that Neal was following him, even if he didn’t trust him yet, and went on, “So I have until my roommate is scheduled to go back on shift before I have to be back to wake him up. Otherwise the duty officer will go looking for him, find him in his room, instead of ashore, log this, and instantaneously the AI will know something is wrong. That gives me four hours, fifty-two minutes until I have to be back on board, and it takes around three hours, twenty minutes to get back. So all that to say we don’t have much time, so I will now ask whether you believe me or need more drastic proof of my credentials.”

Neal had never been averse to more proof on the best of days, and he had never had to deal with anything so extreme as this before. So, his fear momentarily forgotten, and his mind engaged, he stood, rising to face the black-eyed stranger. John was several inches taller than Neal, his square jaw and boyish good looks serving as an incongruous frame for his piercing eyes.

“Will it take long to prove this further?” asked Neal.

“That depends,” said John, and Neal quirked his eyebrow in a question, to which John replied, “on how open-minded you truly are.”

“We managed to figure out that some kind of alien vessel had landed here before you ever showed up, so I think I can handle it.” said Neal defiantly.

John nodded, “Very well.” He looked directly at the scientist, holding his stare without the slightest hint of a blink. Neal waited for John to say something, then noticed something change in the expression of the stranger.

As Neal watched, the tall officer’s left eye seemed to rotate slightly in its socket, then, to Neal’s shock and not insignificant dismay, its pupil rolled down, the white of the eye following it like a falling screen. From behind it a black lens slowly emerged, as black as the fake pupil that had covered it until a moment before. Perhaps even more alarming than the emerging lens was the network of microscopic pins and discs that were unfolding around it. As the lens slid out about half an inch from its socket, a series of smaller supporting structures took their place alongside, the whole thing looking like a microscope surrounded by a hundred needles pointing out from the man’s eye.

Neal faltered, wanting to run from the vicious looking aberration, but unable to take his eyes from this fascinating device. His broken, meek voice stuttered into the silence, “I, wha … I … err. Are those … are those … communications or …”