The Turmoil of a Strange Experiment

Written by Adam Mullen, with art by Marcelo Millicay and Mike Lombardo, and edited by Ted Kendrick.

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The stench of death was palpable on the diminutive man, stout with a tuft of green hair on top of his head, who blocked Z-IV’s path. Around him, Z-IV saw bustling merchant stands as the motley visitors to Lumo Station bardered, traded, and browsed different wares, clothing, and food from all across the Demilitarized Zone.

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The man flashed a nasty grin, withdrew a weapon, pointed it at Z-IV, and had the nerve to ask for chips. Who did this guy think that Z-IV was? A Kestrain chips merchant? It was easy to see that the man often pulled this stunt on unsuspecting visitors. After being narrowly hunted down by a crazy bounty hunter, Z-IV had very little patience at the moment, even though there was a gun in his face. 

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“I was a research experiment!” Z-IV shouted back at the would-be thief. The excruciating pain from the experimentation was still fresh in his mind. Z-IV remembered every moment from each session he spent with the Skran Imperium scientists who poked and prodded him at nearly every waking moment, but he couldn’t remember life before being locked away in the Imperium research complex, or how he ended up there to begin with.

The days locked away blurred together, but the pain and suffering that remained were a constant. How could such misery be so easily inflicted by others? Z-IV felt that the galaxy was filled only with people who desire to hurt others-- the scientists and the stubby man who now pointed this gun at him-- except for the heroic pilot named James Deven, who helped him escape from the bounty hunter. If Z-IV received the chance to thank Deven, he would certainly do so. That is, if he wasn’t shot dead first.

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“You can’t pull a fast one on Crat Gal. I’m one of the smartest thieves here on Lumo Station!” Z-IV could smell the confidence radiating off of Crat. The man was overly full of himself and self-assured. “Say, what’s your name? I want to make sure I can tell my buddies who I stole from!”

“I...do not know my name,” Z-IV said, reminded now of what little he truly remembered about himself.

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“No name? Eh, that’s kinda strange. You must be some kind of weirdo, huh?” Crat replied, showing an even bigger grin.

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Where was the voice in Z-IV’s head that helped him escape the research complex and onto Lumo Station in the first place? It had gone silent once he arrived. Perhaps he had simply imagined the voice? Maybe it was a side effect from the experiments? Maybe he was simply a strange experiment? Either way, he was on his own, and unsure how he was going to get out of this predicament. He felt a sweat bead trickle down his forehead. Was it because he was nervous, or because the artificial environment of the station seemed to favor a hotter climate? Z-IV deduced that it was most likely because there was a gun pointed at his face.

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“Why the flep would I have chips?” Z-IV expected that any of the dozens of merchants and patrons around him would take notice and help Z-IV escape, but none of them even batted an eye in his direction. Z-IV assumed that every single person on board Lumo Station must be a low life or criminal. He really was on his own.

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Crat looked up at Z-IV. “You expect me to believe that shato?” He didn’t look convinced by what Z-IV knew was the truth. Even if he did have chips to give to this scoundrel, Z-IV needed the currency to book transport far away from the Skran Imperium and the insane bounty hunter that nearly captured him, likely still on his trail. 

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But that was the least of Z-IV’s worries at the moment. He had no chips to pay for transport off Lumo Station, but it was a detail he would figure out later, after he escaped the crook who held him at gunpoint in this instant of turmoil. 

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“Hand them over,” Crat demanded. All Z-IV could do was hope that someone would intervene and save his life.

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