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Note: after a three month break, Dah Station 7 is back.

Obviously.

I was a bit overloaded with writing things, but now I’m free enough to continue posting one chapter a week until I get overloaded again.

For the first 10 chapters, go to the menu page DAH STATION 7, they’re all there, waiting, not decaying physically, but, philosophically, if something stays unread…then what?

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If the triangular-faced figure could process the word fuck, they were being pretty coy about it.

Or maybe pointing at their wrists and making the same rasping sound they’d done ten times before was the usual response to being cursed at.

Either way, that’s what they were doing.

Was this real?

Trig opened and closed his eyes a few times, just to reaffirm that what he was seeing was really there…then closed them completely when another figure lurched out from behind the machine.

Wah, had they been there the whole time? And by whole time, he meant the last minute. How were they so quiet?

Rubbing the sides of his eye sockets [and accidentally digging in a bit of nail], he breathed out steadily as he watched the new arrival join their colleague.

This one was more human-looking, their outfit similar to a motorbike rider; padded in key places, tight at the limbs and about four different shades of grey. He would’ve guessed civilian except for one detail. The left arm had three mint green lines slashed across the jacket material, as if a leopard had dipped its claws in paint, attacked and died of a stroke all in one move.

Security uniform. Ninety-five per cent certain.

The green-slashed figure was talking to their colleague now, in noises that sounded even less familiar than Russian.

And the colleague…

It hadn’t been apparent when he’d first seen them, but now Trig had rubbed his eyes furiously, it was clear that the other figure was wearing a dress. Not a feminine one exactly, but a kind of casual hiking/dystopian homeless hybrid type thing.

Could he have come up with a better description? Maybe. If he hadn’t been distracted by the figure’s triangular head, as well as the four green slits rotating on the surface of it.

Trig went back to rubbing his eyes, more out of habit than necessity…then flinched in overly-dramatic pain as Salvo poked him in the back of the shoulder.

‘We’re dreaming, right?’ she whispered, poking a second time.

‘I’m definitely not.’

‘Hallucinating?’

‘No.’

‘Watching a play?’

Trig shook his head, looking down at the floor as he did so. The scattered ashes of his old cigarette pack were still there, begging to be reassembled.

‘Maybe it’s a prank,’ continued Salvo. ‘Like those Japanese shows…’

‘What?’

‘The guy goes to a meeting and they pretend to shoot all his colleagues, he dives under the table…’

‘No.’

‘Okay. What then? Cosplay?’

‘I think they’re security of some kind.’

‘You mean military?’

‘Not sure. I can’t see any weapons. And they don’t seem to be speaking the same language.’

‘Those are languages?’

Trig got up slowly onto his knees, keeping his hands out where the two figures could see them. Assuming they were even looking. By appearances alone, it seemed like the triangular one was, but it was hard to be sure exactly which way their head was facing, or if those little green slits on their helmet were eyes or something else. ‘We should try to talk to them.’

‘How?’

‘The one on the right looks normal. Kind of. The other one…maybe. I don’t know.’

‘His head looks weird.’

‘I think it’s a helmet.’

‘His helmet looks weird then. Not human-shaped. Like a scalene triangle, but with curve on the edges.’

‘Okay, we’ll focus on the other one.’

‘And those little green slits moving around on it…kinda looks like eyes, if you-…’

‘Forget the slits, try to think of-…’

‘Diu, they’re aliens, aren’t they? That’s why the head looks weird. We’re looking at aliens. Actual, physical aliens.’

‘Salvo…’

Trig wasn’t that frustrated, but his voice went up as if he were, getting the attention of both the xeno-figures. Luckily, not dangerous attention. The one with the triangular head started tapping their wrist again, adding some dialogue to their colleague.

‘Now they’re pissed off,’ said Salvo, making her voice so quiet it was almost inaudible.

‘My fault, shouldn’t have raised my voice so fast.’

‘I think they’re gonna shoot us, Trig.’

‘They’re not.’

‘The triangle head…look at its hand…’

‘I know.’

‘They don’t trust us.’

‘Yeah, that’s why we need to start talking to them. Explain what happened, why we’re here.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Trust me, it’s the best way.’

‘What if they don’t understand us? What if they get annoyed?’

The human-looking figure seemed to pick up on this line and turned towards Salvo. It was difficult to tell if they were stern-looking as they were also helmeted, but the body language was incredibly stiff, so much so that it forced Salvo into spill everything mode.

‘We fell asleep,’ she blurted out, clamping her right hand down on Trig’s shoulder as if she were about to pass out. ‘On the floor here, too much Russian and I wasn’t getting anywhere, too tired, sorry, we just fell asleep.’

‘After talking to your machine,’ added Trig, gesturing with his elbow at the mechanical Russian speaker.

‘We didn’t mean to come here, it was a mistake.’

‘An accident.’

‘The wall led us here.’

‘The portal.’

‘It led us into the passage down there.’

‘And then we came up here.’

‘Couldn’t find a way out.’

‘We’re just looking for our friend.’

‘Cav.’

‘Yeah, medium height, looks like us. Kind of. In a generic way.’

‘Have you seen him?’

Both Trig and Salvo stopped the tag and took a breath, giving some space for the two security figures to react. And this time they did…or, at least, the more human-shaped one did.

The other, triangular-headed one, whose waist seemed to be made of pure elastic as they kept swaying from side to side in almost impossible physical maneuvers, continued tapping their wrist, while their comrade took out some type of curved, metallic device.

‘What’s that?’ Trig asked, instinct kicking in.

‘Weapon,’ muttered Salvo.

‘A scanner?’

‘There’s no screen.’

‘… … … … … …’ the human-shaped figure said, attaching the device to their hand. ‘… … … … … … … … … …’

Trig pulled back a bit in alarm, hitting his shoulder blades against the wall behind. Salvo did the same thing [a little more gracefully due to already being on def con one].

Now that they had a better view of the human-ish figure’s hand, they could see it wasn’t much of a hand at all. It had the same basic shape, but there were only four finger parts, or outgrowths, and all of them of a different size.

The skin itself was a dark reddish colour, but not precisely red, more like an under layer of it covered by a black mesh.

It was unclear if the rest of its skin looked the same way as they were covered in their motorbike gear, but the logical deduction would be that it was.

Trig spasmed suddenly, ready to call it a shudder if Salvo asked. Don’t judge, don’t judge, don’t judge, pinballed round his head, followed swiftly by don’t flinch, don’t flinch, don’t flinch.

He didn’t know if he was ready to see a thing with a red face.

Salvo definitely wasn’t.

Soon as that helmet came off, she’d probably faint.

Assuming they had a face.

Maybe they did, but no eyes or nose or eyebrows.

They or it?

Even that was up in the air.

Whatever they or it or nvdgstehshjsh were, the red-skinned, previously human-ish one was now stroking little swirly patterns on their hand device.

Several yellow lights appeared, followed by a single red one. It blinked multiple times then became permanent.

‘They’re gonna shoot us…’ said Salvo.

‘No…’

‘…in the face.’

‘It’s a scanner, I’m sure of it.’

‘Based on what?’

‘Logic.’

Salvo shifted her position against the wall so she could better punch Trig in the arm. The face was her preferred target, but that was out of reach.

‘Thanks for that,’ Trig said, taking the blow fairly well.

‘We’ve gotta do something.’

‘Like what?’

‘Run. Fight. Pretend to cry then…punch them in their weird suits.’

‘I don’t think any of that’s gonna help.’

‘I’m serious, Trig, we’ve gotta at least defend ourselves. Look, they’ve almost got that thing working.’

Trig looked up and saw the red-skinned figure still playing with their metallic toy. More lights were popping up, and the figure’s helmet seemed to be reacting to them. The other figure’s helmet as well. In fact, the more he watched the two of them, the more Trig felt like he was watching some generic security guards at a Government science lab.

At least that’s what his rational side was telling him.

They’re just regular guys, one in a dress, a triangular head, the other with hand skin that looks like specks of lava on burnt toast.

‘Trig, stop freezing…do something.’

‘I’m watching them.’

‘Stop doing that too.’

Trig sat up straight and put his hand on Salvo’s shoulder. ‘I don’t think they’re gonna hurt us.’

‘You can’t know that, they’re not even-…’

‘No, listen a sec. Salv, listen. That one’s face…or their helmet…look at it. It’s moving like it’s reacting to something.’

‘Yeah, to us, intruders.’

‘They might not even be aliens. This gear could be…I don’t know…some kind of secret military stuff. Or we’ve travelled to the future and this is what humans will be wearing at that time.’

‘Shabby dresses and triangular-shaped helmets?’

‘Think about it.’

‘I can’t, Trig, I’ve just woken up. Diu lei.’

‘Try. The machine used Russian to speak to us…so it’s obviously related to humans in some way. And they don’t seem to mind that we’re talking to each other. Any hostile guard would’ve told us to shut up or hit us already, but they haven’t.’

‘Maybe.’

‘We’ve probably just set off some alarm somewhere, crossing over here unexpectedly.’ Trig rubbed his eyes, drawing out some of the sleep crust. ‘Which means that device there is some kind of scanner.’

‘You really think that’s what they’re doing?’

‘Not a hundred per cent, but yeah.’

Trig nodded an end to his own line then turned back to the potential aliens, channelling all the optimism he could into a smile while, at the same time, raising his right hand and doing a two finger peace sign.

In an almost instantaneous response, the figure with the triangular helmet made a shrill howl-like noise and swung their arm at Trig’s head. Despite a half-assed attempt to dodge backwards, the alien’s hand stretched farther than expected and connected with his cheek.

It was a strange sensation.

The actual moment of impact didn’t feel too strong, but a second later, a trailing force knocked him back against the wall.

As he wasn’t wearing a giant sponge on his head, Trig took a hit on the back of his skull and collapsed onto Salvo.

Unfortunately, she was so tense that she perceived it as an alien attack, dodging to the right and allowing Trig to land on the hard, metal floor.

Of course, he managed to bump his forehead on one of the divot outcroppings [for want of a more accurate name], picking up a third injury in three seconds.

‘Help…’ Trig mumbled, as the triangular-head figure capitalised on their opponent’s prone state, grabbing his wrist and stamping it with a…err…stamping mechanism.

‘Get off him,’ shouted Salvo, rising to her feet and shaping her frame to rugby tackle the guard’s legs.

Or the area where their legs should’ve been.

‘My hand,’ said Trig, surprisingly calm. ‘It’s numb.’

‘Nazi shit bag…’ Salvo moved forward, head down, piling shoulder first into the triangular-helmet figure’s lower dress.

Neither the figure nor their dress made any move to stop her.

The only defensive measure they did take was to put their arms over their stomach…or, again, what may or may not have been their stomach…as if they’d just had lunch and didn’t want to shit it out prematurely.

‘Really can’t feel a thing,’ continued Trig, looking up and seeing Salvo charge through nothingness, stumble on a loose bit of floor plating and slide onto the floor next to the machine.

‘… … …’ she yelled in Russian, rolling over and rubbing her right arm.

Sensing an attempt at communication, the machine lit up and began its Russian recital.

‘No legs,’ she shouted over at Trig. ‘There’s no legs on it.’

‘I think they’ve paralysed my hand. Salv…’

‘Like running through wind, nothing solid, no grab points.’

‘…don’t do anything else.’

‘What the fuck was that?’

Trig heard movement to his side and quickly backed up against the wall. Both security figures were talking to each other again, the human-looking one making a sound like ‘yah, yah, yah’ and jabbing their pseudo-hand at the machine, which was obliviously still making its way through its Russian spiel.

‘They’re listening to the machine.’

‘Yeah, same way they were fucking scanning us before.’

‘I think they know.’

‘We need to get up and deal with them.’

‘Wait.’

‘Aim for the head this time.’

‘They’re talking to the device.’

‘What?’

‘Look. The human-looking one…they’ve got the device pinned to their helmet.’

‘To their neck, more like.’

‘Maybe they’re contacting someone. Getting help.’

‘Yeah, extra guards to beat us up.’

Trig breathed out instead of replying and tried to push himself up onto his knees. With only one functioning hand, it was tough, but he eventually managed it.

The human-looking figure turned sharply, pointing the stamp at him again.

‘No…peace,’ said Trig as slowly and softly as he could, offering his limp hand as a sign of good will.

‘Don’t give them your hand.’

‘We are not trouble,’ Trig continued. ‘Only looking for our friend. We want to find him, our friend. We do not want to come here. Okay?’

The human-looking figure glanced at their comrade and the two of them tilted their helmets in mutual something. Trig assumed it was cordial and tilted his head too.

‘Quick, Salvo,’ he said in a forced-hush, ‘say something in Russian.’

‘Seriously?’

‘They seem to understand the machine, so…just do it. Anything in Russian. Don’t overthink.’

Salvo pushed herself back against the machine, which had taken a surprise break from communicating, and closed her eyes. Various Russian phrases flew into psychic view and hovered in front of whichever part of her brain dealt with word choice.

Skimming past the swear words, and the statements of savage revenge, and the demands to know where their legs were, she picked out a sentence that seemed appropriate.

‘… … … … … … …’ she said with a fair level of volume, which literally translated as ‘we went to here no angry.’

The triangular-headed figure swayed their torso to the left and made the same ‘yah, yah, yah’ sound as before.

The human-looking one spoke into the device again.

‘Can you help people?’ asked Salvo, again in broken Russian.

No response.

‘What are you saying?’ asked Trig, keeping his eyes on the movements of the two figures.

‘Wait a sec.’

‘Anything about an exit?’

‘I’m thinking, Trig.’

‘Okay, okay, sorry.’

Salvo took a breath and compiled a new line, adding a strangled attempt at a Russian accent this time. ‘Can you help, we leave here?’

The triangular guard responded with more swaying and more of the ‘yah’ chorus, their movements getting quite dramatic…until they received a nudge from the human-looking figure’s helmet.

‘… … … … …’ they said to their comrade, rubbing their own neck.

The comrade squealed back, causing the human-looking figure to hold up the stamping mechanism, possibly as a threat. It seemed to work, the triangular one shuffling to the side while the other turned and walked closer to Salvo.

‘Please…’ was all she could manage as the figure loomed over her.

‘Say peace in Russian,’ shouted Trig, waving his limp hand.

Salvo opened her mouth to attempt it, but she couldn’t remember the word for peace so went with police instead.

The potential alien, security guard, human-in-cosplay clown shape, whatever it truly was tilted their helmet again and then lowered their body until it was at ground level with Salvo.

‘You have eyes,’ she said in Cantonese, staring at the dark sockets on the helmet that had been obscured earlier. 

The figure ignored the extra scrutiny and held out their wrist, tapping it four times, slowly, methodically.

‘Your people come,’ they said slowly, clearly, and this time in Russian.

‘What?’

‘Your people come. Hate you.’