As a newly-arrived maintenance tech and "grape" on the deep space cruiser's hangar deck, Hank was totally out of his element. He felt lost at every turn on the massive ship--especially on the flight deck--and for a while it felt like his colleagues were more interested at yelling at him for his mistakes than helping him succeed.

So when one of the pilots gently took him aside one day and gave him some really helpful advice about deck procedures, he was almost overwhelmed with gratitude. Although the pilots and deck crew didn't typically fraternize, everyone respected the pilots. It seemed when his fellow deck crew saw the pilot taking Hank under his wing, it inspired them to stop harassing him and start giving him more productive feedback, too. In any case, Hank really seemed to turn a corner after the conversation, becoming more confident and really beginning to feel like he belonged on the ship. Hank tried to be professional and cordial to all the pilots as they interacted on the hangar deck, but he always had a big smile for the pilot who had helped him (who he later learned was named Forrest).

The pilots' quarters were in Officer's Country adjoining the flight deck--far from the enlisted berths down by engineering--and Hank seldom saw Forrest outside of the hanger. So Hank was surprised when Forrest suddenly appeared outside the enlisted mess hall looking for him. "I checked up on you and everyone tells me you've been doing great, Hank," Forrest said, causing Hank to beam at his praise.

Hank was about to thank him for his help, but Forrest continued to plow ahead. "I've been really impressed with how you have picked up new things and embraced new challenges. Not everyone can do that."

Hank's face turned beet red in response. "I really appreciate hearing that, Lieutenant! It hasn't been easy, as I'm sure you could tell!"

"We're off-duty, so please call me Forrest," Forrest said. "And I'm not just saying all this to butter you up. I'm mentioning it because I have a new challenge that I thought you might be interested in embracing. But if you do, I'll need you to maintain total operational secrecy before, during, and afterward. Are you interested?"

Hank barely let Forrest finish his sentence before immediately barking "YES!" and after sheepishly looking around the mostly-empty corridor, continued more quietly, "Yes, totally. Just let me know what you need and I'll do it."

Forrest nodded with satisfaction, looked around the corridor again to confirm no one was within listening distance, and continued quietly. "Have you ever heard of a Red Team exercise?"

Hank shook his head no.

Forrest smiled and continued, "It's when the Fleet tests its own security systems and procedures. I've been assigned to run a test looking for holes in our security grid tomorrow night during my routine patrol, and for my plan to work properly I need someone helping on the inside. Are you available at midnight tomorrow?"

Hank again nodded enthusiastically, so Forrest continued, speaking even more quietly and leaning closer to Hank. "Okay. So my assignment was to get a simulated alien life form past the defense perimeter onto the ship without being detected. Our current procedures scan vessels docking or entering the hangar bay, but I told the brass at Fleet that while we're underway the cargo airlocks aren't being actively monitored and scanned and are therefore vulnerable. So your job will be to be at portside cargo shell door at precisely 23:55, take down the sensor array for that entire corridor for some phony maintenance work, and then open the hatch from the inside for my confederate. Do you think you can do that?"

Hank hesitated, then said, "Sure! Umm, could you show me a schematic for..." and was interrupted when Forrest handed him a data pad. Then Hank smiled broadly and said, "Consider your challenge embraced! Sign me up for the Red Team, sir!"

--------------23:55 the next day----------

Hank paced nervously past the cargo shell airlock, glancing repeatedly at the data pad. He had already submitted his coded hash claiming the work order ticket that mysteriously appeared a moment ago, taking responsibility for the repairs and temporary closure of this section of the deck. If the plan was going forward, Forrest was supposed to send him a coded message on the mesh network and...

"THE DIE IS CAST" blipped on the screen from an unknown sender. That was the code phrase, so Hank opened the circuit junction and pulled the jumpers for wall power, pumps, and--more importantly--the security sensors inside and outside the hatch. As indicator after indicator flipped from green to red, Hank replied "RUBICON" to the message. Hank had been nervous that security would investigate the disabled sensors, but Forrest had assured him that--especially in a non-combat situation--the night shift was almost certainly too short-staffed to investigate in-person, especially with a legitimate work order attached to those components in the system. Besides, Forrest assured him that even if they sent someone, the victory parameters for this exercise only required that Forrest's team successfully get the simulated alien on board without being detected. After that happened, the exercise was basically completed.

Hank was pulled out of his reverie when he heard a dull "thud" as something heavy made contact with the outer shell door of the airlock. He looked at the video feed from inside the airlock, only to realize that he had disabled it. But from the clanking and hissing noises, it appeared that Forrest's confederate had successfully entered the airlock and was equalizing pressure. With only another minute or so for the pressure to be equalized, Hank felt increasingly nervous that they would be discovered just as they were on the cusp of victory.

As he waited and continued pacing nervously, Hank suddenly wondered who Forrest had gotten to play the role of simulated alien. Hank knew from the flight schedule that Forrest was flying a two-seat multi-role patrol skiff, so maybe the copilot? But then when Forrest landed, how would he explain the missing copilot to the ground controllers... Hank guessed that maybe that was okay because then the exercise would be formally over, but it seemed a little like cheating if...

Hank's line of thought was derailed when the air pressure equalization light turned green and the airlock door hissed and began to slowly pivot open. Hank looked at the time on the data pad and smiled as it said 00:01, then stepped around the slow-swinging door to congratulate his fellow Red Team member and...

Hank almost immediately collided with an enormous mass of blue. Startled, Hank looked up and stared dumbfounded as his brain tried to process what he was seeing. "Why did Forrest bother with a visual simulation for the alien?" he thought to himself. But as the alien smoothly slithered onto the ship in a way no human could imitate, Hank's face turned white. "SHITshitshitshitshitshit..." Hank muttered quietly as he slowly backed away from the all-too-real alien. For the moment, the alien seemed occupied by closing the airlock door, so Hank quickly pivoted and popped the protective cover on one of the General Alarm panels... only to realize that it was inoperative--probably tied into the security circuit he had disabled.

As Hank eyed the circuit junction he started to carefully step past the alien, which seemed to be making a series of odd popping noises as it languidly stretched and extended its terrifying tentacles to their maximum length...but halted as the alien unfurled one of its massive tentacles between him and the panel. Hank thought about running the opposite direction, but even though the alien seemed to be from a species he'd never seen before, something about it suggested a tightly-coiled energy... he doubted that he could outrun it.

Suddenly, Hank was distracted by a quiet beep from his data pad. Wait, the data pad! He could send an alert using the emergency comm channel. Hank slowly raised the data pad, but noticed an incoming message notification from the same unknown user. He clicked and it said "Status?"

Quickly Hank typed "WTF??" and then stared at the device as it indicated the other user was typing their reply. "Embrace the challenge," the reply said tersely. Hank was about to type something quite impolite when he realized that while he was distracted by the data pad, the alien had silently moved directly in front of him. Hank peered nervously over the top of the datapad and gasped as he realized the alien had somehow slipped its tendrils under his skin, and a warm, soothing feeling was spreading rapidly from the point of contact.

Hank stumbled away from the alien and focused on trying to switch to the data pad's emergency comms channel. But as Hank stumbled to a stop, he struggled against the stultifying effects of the spreading warmth. Despite the soothing feeling, he tried to remember that something was wrong.

Something...

Hank struggled to hold onto his train of thought, but was finding it increasingly difficult. He had to warn them about the alien, he thought, trying to push through the warmth that was coating his thoughts and making them deliciously sticky. He had to use the pad... and then Hank realized the pad had slipped out of his numb hands. "No," he thought. "The alien..." Hank knew he had to do something about the alien, but he was finding it increasingly hard to remember what as his thoughts floated in a warm ocean. As his arms dropped limply to his side and his face became increasingly placid and blank, Hank realized that that he was too calm and content to think about the alien.

Fortunately, the alien was happy to do the thinking for both of them.