Her pile became signficantly higher when she had returned. The 
categories were easy enough to figure out: history here, sciences 
here, fiction here, biographies here, and so on. Figuring out the 
subjects of books had been somewhat difficult, and had required a 
good deal of flipping through the dictionary, but she had managed. 
Encyclopedias first, world history and religions, and then focus in 
greater detail from there. 


She set a half-dozen books open in front of her on the table, paging 
through each at whim. With the atlas studied the shapes of the 
continents that had been little more than unexplored blobs on 
Imperial maps. So many things to see. So many things to learn. The 
awkwardness at the door faded away with the time. 


After some time, Alai became aware of the library door opening. She 
looked up from her book to see a thin man with a shaved head and 
a thick beard, wearing a bright yellow shirt with a floral pattern. His 
gaze jumped directly to her, which seemed to set off some sort of 
spark in his eyes. 


“Hello hello hello!” He strode over with big steps and a big smile. 
“Dr. Argus Quail, tibi servio.” He extended his hand, which Alai 
shook after a moment's pause. She put a good deal of strength and 
energy into it, to make up for her prior failures in the act. Quail 
laughed. “Strong handshake! | like that. You’re Alai, correct? Am | 
pronouncing that right?” 


the area immediately and attempt evasive maneuvers. 
Reentry into Earth’s atmosphere is permitted as a last resort, 
should it be necessary. 


Interaction with SCP—580 is to be strictly logged and forwarded to 
Dr. Kamen as soon as possible for analysis. Priority is to be given to 
any deviations in the protocols listed therein and the results thereof, 
should any present itself. 


Description: SCP—580-01 is a silk and wood zeppelin ostensibly 
constructed during the reign of Shi Huang Ti in China. The flight 
component has a dragon and phoenix painted in bright green, silver 
and gold on its side, while the deck seems to be made out of an 
unidentified hardwood. The deck itself has no visible weapons, 
although 8 cannon slots have been identified on both sides. 
SCP-580-01 seems to have taken no damage from either weapons 
or environmental hazards present in space, although it does show 
the standard wear and tear that can be found if such a craft were 
present in atmospheric conditions. There seems to be no visible 
means of propulsion from the outside of the ship; records unearthed 
in archaeological dig sites ; and have failed to provide 
any clues regarding this matter. 


SCP-580 can be found once one passes the moon; previous 
encounters (see Data File ) show that the crew of SCP-580-01 
consider the moon as the boundary of “Imperial territory” and do not 
venture past that point towards Earth. So far, rough calculations 
show that one may encounter SCP-580 in the area between the 
moon and the sun; based on anecdotal evidence, it appears that 
SCP-580 was commissioned to journey to the sun under orders of 
Shi Huang Ti. Whether it was for a military expedition or a 
petitioner’s journey remains unclear so far. 


Records retrieved from the dig sites show incomplete plans for 
SCP-580-01; some pages and notes are missing, apparently from 
fire or natural causes. However, these plans show that there are 
compartments in SCP-580-01 that are unrelated to sailing or cargo 
transport; the notes on these sections indicate some kind of 
necromantic purpose intended for it, though details are currently 
unclear. 


” 


“Yes. 


“Wonderful! Welcome, yes, welcome. You and I, we'll have to have 
lunch sometime soon. Need to compare literary traditions. | would 
do it today, but I’m afraid there’s a faculty meeting and if | skip out 
on another one of those the Directors’ Committee will have my 
knickers. Now | would love to show you around myself, but | can’t 
stay for long, have things to do, books to sort and all. Edward!” He 
called over to the main desk. “Edward, show our guest around!” He 
turned back to Alai. “Once again, | am very sorry | cannot show you 
around personally, my dear, but Edward is a good man, he knows 
the ropes.” 


Alai wasn’t sure what ropes had to do with anything, or that Quail 
was a very observant man. She looked over to see Ed walking 
towards her: Quail had already disappeared. 


“Hi, again.” Alai waved half-heartedly. Ed yawned again. 


“That man has the attention span of a fly in a bakery. Guess | can’t 
get out of this, then. Come on...” 


Over the next hour or so, Quail’s faith in Ed was not entirely 
misplaced, Alai decided. He knew where everything was, answered 
every question, explained protocol succinctly, and did not appear 
incredibly impatient. He still didn’t make a single comment about the 
fact that she was from another world. 


Soon enough, he had shown her what there was to show her, and 
they returned to the first level. There were more people in the library 
now, more librarians and researchers scurrying silently about. Ed 
gave a lazy goodbye, a yawn, and left. 


Alai went back to her stack of books, carrying a large one she had 
found during the tour. An atlas. The perfect place to begin her 
studies. She sat down and opened it up, slowly parsing the blocky 
text they favored. A few pages in, she saw a two-page spread of the 
Empire, covered in ice. Alai tapped it with her finger, placing Rootrel 
and the other major cities. Her finger lingered on where Kemdn 
should have been. Where her home should have been. 


The loneliness crept up slowly for a few trickling moments before 
crashing down on her in its full, hollow force, taking her enthusiasm 
and drowning it. She was alone. Barely more than a girl, alone ina 
world not her own, where things were cold and unadorned. This was 
her home now, but there was nothing homely about the place. Her 
friends, her family, her masters and teachers, even her Empress, all 
far, far away. She wouldn't see any of them or speak to any of them 
for a long time. Quail was kind, for all she had interacted with him, 
and so were many of the other staff, but...were they just putting on 
false smiles, enduring or pitying the stupid, silly girl wno stumbled 
into their lives and talked too fast and got over-excited about the 
littlest things? 


She didn’t even belong in the exchange group. She wasn’t even 
supposed to be here, it was only that her aunt had fallen ill at the 
last minute and so she was sent instead. She couldn't face the 
others, couldn’t talk to them: two were so high above her station that 
there was no way she could approach them, she had no idea how to 
speak with the Black Court, and she had yet to really speak to the 
artists. Shifting Snow...she had met him once before, at a funeral. 
Pleasant enough, but he was a cousin of another family branch, too 
far away to be real kin. 


She bit her lip. No. No. She was going to do this. She did belong. 
The Empress’s hand didn’t move without reason. She was going to 
do this and when she went home when her studies here were done 
she would step off that train with smiles and stories and be known 
as the girl who went North and learned everything there was to know 
and she would see her mother and father and sisters there at the 
station waiting for her. 


She rubbed her eyes on her sleeve. Don’t think about home, think 
about here. Think about now. 


She turned the page, and began to read about Asia. 


« Hub » 


Collecting 


"After the objects are processed and given SCP designation, we 
organize them into three main classes; Safe, Euclid, and Keter. 
Safe-class objects are the simplest to contain, more often than not 
requiring minimal procedural deviation, maintenance, and 
observation. The most strenuous..." 


Trighit yawned and surveyed the monochrome hallway. He was glad 
that he had been pushed to the back of the group; now, there was 
no reason to mask his boredom with Dr. Grant. Everyone else 
seemed rapt in attention towards the so called "scientist's" speech. 


"I've yet to see a single scientific thing," he muttered. 


Though the building looked like neat and orderly enough, there were 
noises and murmurs coming from the rooms lining the hallways. 
Trighit focused his attention on the humming he heard emanating 
from a room on his right. He nudged Pokum and motioned with his 
head towards the door and the documents sitting in a bin attached to 
the wall beside it. The assistant shook his head, put one finger in 
front of his lips, pointed ahead of him, and refocused on the 
speaker. 


"Well, fine then. I'll just look for myself," he quietly fumed. 


Trighit edged over to the door and took one of the sheafs of paper 
down. 


Item #: SCP-1517 
Object Class: Euclid 


Special Containment Procedures: All instances of 
SCP-1517 and SCP-1517-A are to be contained in 
cryogenic... 


"| don't care, | don't care," he mumbled to himself as he replaced the 
documents and reached for the handle. "I just want to know what it 
is..." 


"Mr. Triggit, was it?" 
The squat researcher retracted his arm and turned around. 


"|-It's pronounced 'Try-it,' actually." he shakily responded working his 
tongue awkwardly around the unfamiliar words. 


"Yes, well, my apologies Mr. Trite. Anyways, though I'm sure you're 
eager to see the example Euclids, we'd prefer to let our personnel 
handle the containment. If you could please step back?" 


Trighit let out a long, relieved breath as he moved back towards 
Pokum. 


"Now, as | was saying, Euclid-class objects are typically the objects 
that require moderate amount of attention and protocols. In this 
room are some fine examples of Euclid-classes. Doctor Peters, if 
you don't mind?" 


The woman nodded, swiped a keycard in the panel adjacent to the 
bin ("How had | not noticed...?"), and opened the door. Trighit 
whipped out his ever-present notebook and excitedly craned his 
short neck, trying to see into the room. 


The thrill was short lived. Instead of revealing a new, incredible 
specimens and environments, the room looked just like the hallway 
outside; gray, sterile, and boring. A row of white tubes lined the 
walls, each equipped with a module identical to the one found 
outside of the door. 


"Certain Euclid-classes are deemed to be most easily, effectively, 
and safely stored in cryogenic suspension. Take a look here at 
these specimens." The man lifted his own keycard attached to a 
lanyard around his neck and swiped it through the attachment on 
one of the tanks. The front of the structure opened with a hissing 
noise, and the doctor retrieved several objects from inside. 


"Now, these here are instances of SCP-1517-A, the eggs of 


SCP-1517. These may look like gobstoppers, but..." the man 
stopped short. Trighit was waving one hand in the air while 
frantically writing in his journal that was balanced on one of his legs 
with the other. "Yes?" 


"What is a gobstopper?" he asked, readjusting to use his now free 
hand to support the journal. 


The man blinked. "It's, um, a type of candy." 
The hand shot up again. 


"What kind of creature is 'candy?" Trighit could feel Pokum's 
questioning stare, but he ignored it. 


"It's... um... well..." Grant was lost for words. He turned to his 
companions who simply shrugged. The man set down the spheres 
and rummaged through his pockets, pulling out a wallet. Handing a 
dollar to his other coworker, he instructed, "Fredricks, go buy a 
packet of Skittles from the cafeteria vending machine." 


The agent paled slightly. "Sir, ah, I'm not quite familiar with this wing, 
maybe Peters would be better for this?" 


Grant groaned and started debating quietly with his two coworkers 
after assuring Trighit and Pokum that this was all normal custom. 
While the researchers were engrossed in their spat, the Antarctican 
scientist quickly grabbed three of the balls and pocketed them. 


"Ah, sir, I'm sure you could always show me later!" 


The three scientists, glanced over and quickly regained their 
composure. 


"Mmhmm, yes, it's a minor detail anyways. I'm sure you're much 
more interested in the behavior of the species." 


"Yes, sir. Please continue." Trighit replied with a smile on his face 
stretching ear to ear. 


As Grant continued to talk about the behavior of the insects, Pokum 
nudged his friend frantically, clearly worried about the dangers 


posed by his actions. In reply, Trighit shook his head, put one finger 
in front of his lips, and pointed with the finger on his other hand 
towards Grant. 


"Every day with you, | swear!" 


The pair of Antarcticans had been escorted to their room after the 
tour ("Them? Stay with me? | will not allow it."), where Pokum 
immediately began chastising his compatriot. 


Trighit laughed. "Calm yourself Pokum, it's just some research, no 
big deal. I'll study them, take some notes, and have them back 
before they even notice." 


"Do you even think about what you do? This isn't back at home 
where no one cares how many threxans you coerce from the pack, 
or how many hyrechi you dig out of the ground! You're going to get 
us executed before we've been here for more than a week, you 
fool!" 


He chuckled again. "You worry yourself too much, friend. We're not 
in trouble, are we? No one noticed, yes?" 


Pokum remained silent and he crossed his arms in front of his chest. 
"Bah, this is the whole reason why we came, isn't it?" 


"No," he spat, "This is the whole reason why you came, Trighit. | 
came to make sure you didn't get yourself hurt or killed, and that's it. 
I've told you, | don't care about this stuff, | care about you! Now, go 
put it back, apologize, and maybe they won't leave us to rot." 


"Sir, um... it appears that we're missing a few of the SCP-1517-A 
instances." 

"Fifteen-seventeen, fifteen-seventeen...?" 

"The candy bugs, sir." 


"The ones we used as example Euclids for the researchers from 


SCP-1483?" 
"Yes," 


"...Shit. Send Peters over to that wing to double check the count on 
each skip in containment and send Fredricks down to their room, 
and if they don't find it there, declare a containment breach." 


"Aye." 


Trighit sat in shock. "Y-you don't care? Since when?" 


The assistant kneaded his forehead in frustration. "Trighit, | don't 
know how many times I've tried to tell you. | always came along just 
because you wanted me to, and, well, you're my friend. You just 
never listened because you were always too focused or fascinated 
by whatever happened to be that day's subject. | actually kind of 
hate all of this." 


"But Pokum, | always... I... I'm sorry." 


"Don't worry about it." He sighed. "Look, let's just put them back. No 
one will have to know, we can probably use these card things they 
gave us to get back in. We'll just go along, studying— well, 
observing the things they tell us to— and then, when the excursion 
is all over, we go back home where no one cares how much of what 
animal you take." 


"Yes," the scientist replied hollowly. "They're in that flask, right on 
the desk." 


Pokum silently went over, and dumped the contents into his hand. 
"I'm going to go try to put these back. Stay put." 

A sharp knocking on the door made them both freeze. 

"Hey, this is Agent Fredricks. Open up!" 


The two paled and looked at each other. 


"Oh God, what do we do?" mouthed Trighit. 


Pokum shrugged while frantically scanning the room for a place to 
hide them. 


"Keep him busy for as long as you can, I'll be there in a minute." 
Pokum mouthed, quickly maneuvering towards the bathroom. 


Trighit ran to answer, but the door of their room flung open, and in 
walked a tired-looking man attired in a suit. 


“Alright, it's room inspection time." he said, any former traces of 
humor and ease gone. 


"Whatever for, Agent Fredricks?" the squat visitor asked, trying to 
keep his voice from shaking.