Obsessed

Chapter 1

Alice

The humidity hits me like a wall as I step out of my research station. Meltor IV's jungle stretches before me, a vibrant tapestry of greens and purples. I adjust my pack, double-checking my specimen containers and data pad.

"Alright, Alice," I mutter to myself, "let's see what's changed since last week."

I set off down the well-worn path, my boots squelching in the damp earth. The familiar scents of decay and new growth mingle in the air. A distant screech echoes through the canopy, reminding me to stay alert.

As I push through a curtain of iridescent vines, I notice something new. "Well, hello there," I whisper, crouching down to examine a cluster of tiny blue flowers. Their petals shimmer with an almost metallic sheen. "You weren't here last time."

I carefully collect a sample, my fingers working deftly to avoid damaging the delicate blooms. The data pad chirps as I log the coordinates and snap a few high-resolution images.

A rustle in the underbrush nearby makes me freeze. I hold my breath, remembering the six-legged predator I'd spotted in this area a month ago. After a tense moment, a small, furry creature scurries across the path. I exhale, chuckling at my own nervousness.

"Get it together, girl. You're not lunch today."

I continue my hike, skirting around the area where I know a particularly aggressive species of carnivorous plant likes to root. The path narrows, forcing me to duck under low-hanging branches dripping with moisture.

A clearing opens up ahead, and I pause at its edge. This is new. Where there was once a thick stand of trees, now there's an open space carpeted with unfamiliar vegetation.

"What happened here?" I wonder aloud, scanning the area. The trees at the clearing's edge are bent and broken, as if something large had forced its way through.

I take a cautious step forward, my scientific curiosity warring with my sense of self-preservation. The new plants are unlike anything I've cataloged before – thick, rubbery leaves in shades of deep crimson and burnt orange.

"Oh, you beauties," I breathe, kneeling to get a closer look. "Where did you come from?"

As I reach out to touch one of the leaves, a low rumble reverberates through the ground. I snatch my hand back, heart pounding. That sound is too big, too close for comfort.

"Right," I say, slowly backing away. "That's my cue to call it a day."

I turn and head back the way I came, moving as quietly as possible. Whatever made that clearing, whatever's making that sound – it's not something I'm equipped to handle alone. But oh, the data I'll have to analyze tonight. I can't keep the grin off my face as I quicken my pace, eager to get back to the safety of my station and dive into my findings.

I trudge back to my research station, my mind buzzing with possibilities about the blue flowers nestled safely in my pack. The airlock hisses as I step inside, shedding the oppressive humidity of Meltor IV's jungle.

"Home sweet home," I mutter, dropping my gear by the door.

First things first: tea. I fill the kettle and set it to boil, then peel off my sweat-soaked field clothes. By the time I've changed into something more comfortable, the kettle's whistling.

I pour the steaming water over a bag of my favorite Earl Grey, inhaling deeply. "Alright, little blue beauties," I say, cradling the mug in my hands, "let's see what secrets you're hiding."

In the lab, I carefully extract one of the shimmering flowers from its container. Under the harsh fluorescent lights, its metallic sheen is even more pronounced.

"Aren't you a pretty thing?" I murmur, placing it under the microscope.

Hours tick by as I run test after test. Spectral analysis, chemical composition, genetic sequencing – I leave no stone unturned. My excitement grows with each passing minute. Surely, something this unique must have some groundbreaking properties.

But as the results start coming in, my heart sinks. Nothing. No medicinal compounds, no unusual genetic markers, no potential for industrial applications. Just a perfectly ordinary flower with an admittedly stunning appearance.

"Well, that's disappointing," I sigh, leaning back in my chair. I take a sip of my now-cold tea and grimace. "At least you smell nice."

Deflated, I turn to my computer and begin typing up my report for Nova BioTech Corp. It's not the first time I've had to dash their hopes for a miracle discovery, and it won't be the last.

"To: Research Division, Nova BioTech Corp.

Subject: Analysis of Specimen MIV-2187

Preliminary findings on the newly discovered floral species (designation MIV-2187) indicate no significant biomedical or industrial applications. The specimen possesses a unique iridescent quality and a pleasant fragrance, but chemical analysis reveals no compounds of interest for further development.

Recommendation: No additional resources required for this specimen. Cataloging complete.

Full data package attached.

-Dr. Alice Wason, Meltor IV Research Station"

I hit send and stretch, feeling the ache in my back from hours hunched over the lab equipment. "Another day in paradise," I mutter, glancing out the window at the darkening jungle beyond.

I slump back in my chair, staring at the sent message in my inbox. Another dead end. Another disappointment. I can almost hear Dr. Zyx'nax's condescending tone: "Well, what did you expect from a human?"

"Shut up," I mutter to the imaginary voice in my head. I push away from the desk and pace the small confines of my research station, feeling like a caged animal.

"They think they're so clever, don't they?" I say to the empty room. "Sending the human out to the middle of nowhere. 'Oh, let's give Alice a chance to prove herself.' As if."

I know the truth. I'm here because I'm expendable. Because no one expects me to find anything of value. Because they all think I cheated my way through the Academy.

I stop at the window, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. The jungle of Meltor IV stretches out before me, vast and mysterious. Somewhere out there is my ticket to respect, to recognition. I just have to find it.

"Three months," I remind myself. "Three months until extraction. That's all the time I have left to show them what a human can do."

I drag myself to the tiny kitchenette, my stomach growling in protest of its neglect. The fridge hums accusingly as I yank it open, revealing a sad array of packaged meals and protein bars.

"Gourmet dining at its finest," I mutter, grabbing a vacuum-sealed pouch labeled 'Chicken Teriyaki'. 

As I wait for the food synthesizer to work its magic, I can't help but glance at the calendar on the wall. The days are ticking by, each one bringing me closer to my extraction date. Three months suddenly feels like no time at all.

"Stop it," I chide myself. "You're not helping anything by obsessing."

The synthesizer beeps, and I retrieve my meal. It smells vaguely chicken-like, which is about as good as it gets out here. I settle at my small desk, pushing aside stacks of research notes to make room for my plate.

As I eat, my eyes keep drifting to the jungle outside. The setting suns paint the sky in vibrant oranges and purples, casting long shadows across the alien landscape. It's beautiful, in its own way, but right now it just feels lonely.

"You knew what you were signing up for," I remind myself, stabbing at a piece of pseudo-chicken. "Solo mission, groundbreaking research, blah blah blah."

Meal finished, I toss the plate into the recycler and wander over to my bunk. From under the pillow, I pull out a well-worn paperback. The cover is creased, the pages dog-eared from countless readings.

"Hello, old friend," I murmur, running my fingers over the faded title.

I curl up on the bunk, propping myself against the wall, and open to a random page. The words are familiar, comforting. I lose myself in tales of exploration and adventure, of jungles far more hospitable than the one outside my window.

But despite my grumbling, I can't deny the thrill that runs through me as I read about the hero's discoveries. It's the same feeling that brought me to Meltor IV in the first place – that burning desire to uncover something new, something extraordinary.

"There's got to be something out there," I whisper, glancing out the window at the darkening jungle. "Something that'll make all this worthwhile."