Lost in the Lab Part 6
Date Posted: October 24, 2025
This chapter was written in collaboration with Scylla.
Amon swiftly turned towards Node, his voice lifting in a commanding rumble that he hardly utilized current days. Maybe it was the environment, or maybe it was being around well-meaning but misbehaving nodes, but something about the moment brought out the old Technologist in him.
“Node. Release her. Now. She is not a subject.”
He ground his teeth and added, just in case the machine decided to back-talk him.
“And so help me, if you don’t, I’m taking away your docking rights tonight!”
His gold eyes flashed, reflecting more defensive anger than he’d meant. It was rare he directed displeasure at his oldest friend, but right now, Node needed to understand he was overstepping a line that could not risk being crossed.
The Node lurched back, releasing the energy field, surprised by his Master’s voice patterns. These voice patterns suggested anger… empathy, possibly even affection?
Scylla just fell to the floor, crumpled in a pile at the Master’s feet.
Affection?
The Master had never shown genuine affection towards a test subject. Even worse, towards Scylla!
The node’s programming rejected any possibility that Amon would feel any form of warmth towards his rival. But there was no insincerity in the Master’s voice.
It did not compute. The Master was showing serious major faults and errors. The node would have to run a check on the Technologist’s clone computations. Only then could a proper treatment be applied.
And… Scylla was not a threat. The scans had revealed that she had only a sliver of her power, and she was a threat to no one, including a properly armed node, much less a whole cohort.
The node sunk to the ground, and gave a single roll, backing away from the pair.
“Affirmative, Master.” The Node spun, giving a low, negative tone. “Subject released to your custody.”
The Node could bide its time.
Plans were already in the works.
Amon schooled himself, once again regaining a calm and commanding composure. Thankfully, Node had not argued the point. The last thing he wanted Scylla to think was that he was not in control of the Tower systems, much less his own creations.
Something in him wanted to move forward in concern, but he wasn’t sure if Scylla would welcome any sort of approach from him. He couldn’t deduce exactly what she was feeling at the moment – having been contained, then released, then contained, and again released.
He only knew this was a very delicate predicament in which he could either gain or lose trust in her eyes. The apprehension of this knowledge pulsed through his body as he tried to determine what was best to say and do next. The Allagan had never been very good at things like this.
“Scylla? I didn’t know you were here. In the Tower,” Amon spoke slowly, hoping that shifting the focus to a troubling question of his own would break the tension. “How did you get here?”
Though he thought better of it, he offered the motion of a concerned hand. Not reaching for her, just one upraised palm with a gesture he hoped would mirror the worry in his eyes.
Scylla looked up at Amon’s hand, tracing each of the curves of his fingers, before glancing into his gaze. Despite his slumped shoulders and soft voice, it was hard not to be unnerved in this setting of jarred, mutated organs and toppled shelves of ancient medical tools.
She grabbed the side of his pant leg, and then his coat, pulling herself up to her shaky feet. She held Amon's shoulder for balance and looked straight into his golden eyes.
She needed to know.
“So… then… are the stories true?”
“Stories? It depends. What stories do you mean?” Amon asked, perplexed.
Seeing that she had initiated contact with him first, he offered her a supportive arm. One eyebrow quirked upward as he peered questioningly at Scylla.
“Ascians. Fandaniel.” Scylla pushed her finger into his chest, while holding his arm at the same time to steady herself. “You.”
The node interjected. “Incorrect. Amon, Master Technologist of the Tower. Glory to Allag.”
Scylla wiped her face, ignoring the node, looking up at Amon as she bit her lip. “Well?”
Amon’s eyes widened slightly, unable to prevent an internal response to the words “Ascians” and “Fandaniel,” especially the way she spoke them. He knew that Scylla was aware of a portion of what had driven him to the First to search the Tower for answers, but he wasn’t certain exactly how much she knew.
“Can you walk?” He asked instead of answering. With his free hand he motioned towards the room adjacent to the lab. It had once functioned as an office attached to the facility, and would likely have somewhere to sit that was far less imposing.
“I have made some discoveries along those lines, but ‘tis much to explain. Mayhaps we relocate somewhere more comfortable?”
Scylla involuntarily shivered, looking at the room, lined with comfortable chairs, tomes, and scientific information terminals. She stumbled backwards, the memories of her signing away her life surfacing as she stared at the charts of human bodies and holograms of cellular structures in the distance. How easy it was to forget that this man with the silver words and warm smile was the man who had destroyed everything she once was.
And now an Ascian? None of this makes sense.
She swallowed deeply, managing to choke up some words.
“Amon… your laboratory office is NOT my idea of comfort.” She limped forward, pulling away towards the entrance while looking back over her shoulder. “I’ll take my chances in the Tower.”
The node seemed to have other ideas, rolling next to Amon and lighting up a trace on the ground to the exit.
“Excellent!” The node spun, interrupting with a slightly gleeful tone. “Her chances of survival are… computing… less than two percent. The subject’s disposal will leave you free to pursue more important tasks!”