One by one we followed him up the rope ladder that had been rigged to connect the walkways.

“How did the hypothetical crew get up and down?” Eldlund muttered as he swung about.

“The compartments are all positioned at right angles to the assumed direction of flight,” Lankin said. “So our conclusion was that there is no acceleration force while it flies along the inside of the wormhole, and that the docks at both ends are in free-fall.”

I was last up the rope ladder. It was only when I was halfway up to the third level that I noticed everyone had fallen silent. When I stepped onto the walkway grid, the assessment team was bathed in the pale blue-white light shining out of the units. They were all staring in. And I could hear the awkward sounds of people trying to control their gag reflex.

The hibernation units did contain humans—just not complete ones. Their limbs had been removed, leaving the torsos and heads almost intact. They were held in place against the rear of the hibernation chamber by a blue-tinted membrane that looked as if it had been shrink-wrapped around them. It was translucent, revealing that the original skin had also been removed. The quadriplegic bodies were like medical anatomy models, with all their sinew, bones, blood vessels, and organs visible. The eye sockets were empty, and the ears had also been detached, along with any genitals. Four alien organics, resembling umbilical cords, were attached to the empty hip and shoulder sockets, their veins and arteries pulsing slowly as blood circulated in and out. They were connected to external organs that rested like flaccid cushions of flesh down the side of the hibernation unit.

“No fucking way,” Alik announced.

I watched, mesmerized by the med-remotes that had invaded the sarcophagi through a tiny sterile airlock tube drilled into the glass casing. The insectile machines crawled across the taut restraining membrane, whisker-like feelers probing its structure down to the cellular level; larger clusters swarmed around the junctions between umbilicals and body, exploring the fusion.

Vital signs were displayed across screens rigged up on a temporary carbon-strut framework—a whole genre of symbology beyond my comprehension.

“Are these actual humans, or is this some kind of replica the ship’s brain was building out of alien cells?” Yuri asked.

“They’re human,” Lankin said. “Or at least they used to be. The medical team has taken extensive samples. Their brains are completely intact, along with some of the original organs. However, the rest of their bodies have been replaced by Kcells. Basically, the torso organs have been reduced down to the brain’s life support system, which is sustained by the nutrients supplied by the artificial organs in the hibernation chamber. They’re powered by electricity, so as long as the fusion generators are working, these people stay alive.”

“Are they conscious?” a horrified Loi asked.

“No. Brainwave activity is consistent with a coma in all of them. Blood chemistry analysis has revealed the presence of some sophisticated barbiturates, which we assume are sustaining the coma state.”