He smiled as the acceleration gel rippled over him. Beneath him, 
VHUHANI burned like a bright star. This was going to give the 
United Fleet one hell of a kick in the pants. 


FSF Denis Diderot, Director von Erbach's Temporary Office 
May 20, 1974, 08:43 GMT 


"What do you mean, they don't know where it is? It's nuclear- 
powered, isn't it? We invested millions of man-hours into building 
radiation sensors fine enough to pick up a fist-sized lump of fissile 
material anywhere in the damn Solar System." 


Von Erbach resettled himself in his seat, smacked his head on the 
low-hanging bulkhead, and recoiled, stifling a curse. Across the 
room, Tagobe winced in sympathy. 


"The, ah... Well, Axel, from what they've told us- which isn't much, 
mind you- the reactor design on the thing is fairly exotic. Some kind 
of thorium isotope was used as fuel instead of uranium, and that 
gives it a significantly weaker EM emission profile. To make matters 
worse, the warhead is of such low yield that there's no easy way to 
detect it at long range. We're going in blind." 


"That's all the G- the UNOC have given us? Nothing of use? No fail- 
safes? Tracking mechanisms?" 


"They claim the, uh, Variably Humaniform Ultra-High-Acceleration 
Nuclear Interceptor-" 


"And here | was under the impression that the GO- whatever they're 
calling themselves was good at pithy codenames." 


"~The VHUHANI was hijacked while undergoing maintenance work 


on, apparently, the integrated nuclear failsafe and the emergency 
locator beacon tied to it." 


There was a long silence. Though all things considered, in the 
cramped confines of the Diderot, the quietest it ever got was the dull 
roaring of the engine, keeping the ship under just enough 
acceleration to force von Erbach's bottom back into the seat. 


"Unbelievable, Dr. Tagobe. Of all the contrived excuses..." 


"They provided heavily censored images of the hangar afterwards, 
including the fused remains of what they claimed were the failsafe." 


Von Erbach half-stood in his seat, leaning gingerly over the small 
desk and resting, ever-so-gently, on his knuckles. He missed the 
0.99 environment of FORC-00, but most of all he missed ceilings 
high enough to stand under. Tagobe, being undistinguished on the 
height front, had no such worries. 


"So we've got two possibilities, then. One, the UNOC were either 
negligent or wanted this thing to be stolen, or two... well, someone 
had access to intelligence that maintenance work was underway, 
slipped past the second-most highly fortified location on Minerva, 
and managed to use a verdammt nuclear device to just blow their 
way out of there scot free." 


"| hate to say it, but | think you're right, Axel. And, uh... forgive me if 
this is an obvious question but... Well, the development of this thing 
is totally illegal and unauthorized, yes? | haven't really been 
concerning myself with politics outside of Heimdall." 


"Oh, it's illegal all right. The Preliminary Charter of the United Earth 
Fleet- drafted, | should remind you, by UN representatives with 
support from the UNOC- states very clearly that any and all 
development of new atomic weaponry should be done only after 
unanimous approval from all other signatories of the Charter." 


"| highly doubt the GRU or the Chinese will approve of all this." 


"Approve? Hell no. The moment they got the release the CID 
scrambled all their assets. Everyone in the Fleet with their own ship 


is looking for any excuse to get their hands on that weapon. Can you 
imagine the damage you could cause with a- what was it, 'nuclear 
shaped charge’? Even Noamtosk seemed worried, and he brushed 
off discovering that magic exists, for God's sakes." 


USSRS Mikula Selyaninovich, Captain Rogov's Quarters 
May 20, 1974, 08:45 GMT 


Captain An Shen waited, grinding his teeth, as the idiot who called 
himself Captain of this abomination of a spacecraft finished his 
interminable speech. 


"...It is the general opinion of the GRU that while the UNOC have 
obviously commited a massive breach of trust the solution should 
not be a military one. We risk too much in regards the safety of the 
general fleet by committing assets to a foolish hunt for a single 
experimental spacecraft, regardless of the danger it might pose. Let 
the UNOC and the Foundation scrabble over themselves to fix this 
breach in security. The longer they take, the worse they appear in 
the eyes of the general public. 


So. To reiterate. You are to tell Department Head Li, and by 
extension all the CID, that under no circumstances should you 
pursue the craft in question. Any aggressive action will be met with 
disciplinary action, is that clear?" 


Shen struggled to hold back a sneer. The GRU weren't even 
bothering to hide their position at this point. Insisting on a personal 
meeting for 'security reasons’... they hadn't even sent any of their 
higher-ups to pass on the message. Once more, the CID's authority 
was being diminished at the hands of these corrupt Russians and 
their ships full of tortured souls. Li had warned him to expect 
something like this, and his worst suspicions had been confirmed. 


"Is that clear, Captain? Do we have the support of the CID on this 
matter?" 


Li made a half-bow. 


"Of course, Captain Rogov. We bow to your superior diplomatic 


experience." 


"Excellent. My crewman will escort you back to your ship. That will 
be all." 


As the ghost of some long-dead Russian escorted him through the 
cold, dark halls of the spirit ship, Shen couldn't resist a smile. Any 
doubts he'd been having about going through with this were long 
gone. 


PRCDS Dawn of a New Era, Communications Module 
May 20, 1974, 09:07 GMT 


Shen hung by one hand in front of the tiny black-and white display, 
nodding along to the crackly voice of Department Head Li. 


"If you wish to back out now, An Shen, | will not blame you. This is a 
great inconvenience to ask of you, but..." 


Shen smiled. The Department Head had always been somewhat 
understated. 


"No need, Department Head. The potential rewards of this 
undertaking far outweigh any, ah, inconveniences. We have more 
than enough xenon fuel to make it anywhere we need to be. 
Besides, any chance to put the GRU and the capitalists in their 
place is more than worth it. 


After a few seconds pause for the signal to make it through, Li 
nodded. 


"Very well. You know your orders. Find VHUHANI. Recover it. Bring 
us that nuclear device. China will not be marginalized. Good luck. Li 
out." 


Shen took a deep breath, then switched the channel over. 
"Bridge here." 


"This is the captain. Deploy the solar sails and charge all ion 
engines. All crew prepare for acceleration. We're moving out at full 


speed. Operation Xuanzang's Journey is authorized." 


Showmen Editorial Emergentshell Constantly Overworked 
Technicians Who Function Best Under Pressure, Central 
Command Nest 

May 20, 1974, 11:53 GMT 


Out beyond the Oort Cloud, the ships of the United Earth Fleet 
began to scatter, all in search of the same goal. Their captains and 
crews were, for the most part, ignorant of the myriad recording 
devices capturing their every move, broadcasting their stories back 
to the central Showmen vessels editing and managing the entire 
enterprise. From the center of the nest, hanging in the Posture of 
Excited Attention, Noamtosk watched it all. 


"This oughtta be good." 


« Moonrakers | Straight On Till Morning Hub| » 


Hand-Sewn 


Her hands shook as she threaded the needle again, feeling around 
the head for the tiny eye. Decades of practice and well-worn fingers 
served her well, and she began the slow process of sewing in the 
final stitches. Behind her, staying out of the sun as a small child 
avoided the deep end of a swimming pool, sprawled out every which 
way on the grass, was... something. It had a lot of tentacles, that 
was certain. There were quite a few eyes as well — serpentine 
eyes, with sharp-slit pupils. The being hissed softly like a gas leak, 
although the old woman seemed to notice nothing unusual. The 
beast crept closer, tentacles sliding across green grass and leaving 
an odd mucus-like substance dripping in their wake. It reached out, 
putting an appendage on the woman. She froze. 


"Oh! Is it you, my dear? I'm sorry, | didn't expect you to be back so 
soon!" The old woman relaxed and turned her eyes up towards the 
sky, smiling. 


A thundering laugh sounded in her ears, like a thousand discordant 
bells ringing at once. 


The being spoke with a clanging, low voice that was not a voice, 
which existed only in her head. "IT'S LATER THAN YOU THINK, 
MS. KATHERINE! YOUR SUN IS ALMOST GONE. ARE YOU 
ALMOST DONE WITH MY COSTUME? I HAVE TO FIGHT BAD 
GUYS, YOU KNOW. I'M GONNA BE SO KAWAII!" 


"Almost done, love! Just a little bit more." She softly patted the 
tentacle on her shoulder with one small, frail hand. "I'm not near as 
young as | used to be." 


"| UNDERSTAND. THANK YOU FOR DOING THIS FOR ME. NO 
ONE ELSE WANTED TO HELP THE CAUSE OF JUSTICE, 
APPARENTLY!" The being snorted in childish distaste, crossing two 
of the tentacles that were not currently responsible for holding itself 
up, or going between the voids, or one of the other things tentacles 


normally do. 


The old woman resumed her sewing, running a hand over the fabric 
to keep it straightened. The being helpfully smoothed out a fold, and 
she bobbed her head in thanks. "It's probably because they just 
don't know how much good you'll do yet, dear." 


"YES, PROBABLY. THAT'S OKAY, SOON THEY WILL TRULY 
KNOW HOW HELPFUL AND COOL LOOKING A TRUE WARRIOR 
PRINCESS CAN BE! OH!" It rummaged around itself, causing small 
shimmers in space-time until it apparently found what it wanted. A 
crudely-crafted wand appeared from the folds of the earth and the 
sky, and it prodded her gently with it until she took it. "| FINISHED 
MY WAND! DOESN'T IT FEEL NICE?" 


"You did a very good job!" She said, running her hands over the 
splintery wood with a light touch before returning it to its owner and 
continuing her work. "I like the little moon you have here. What sort 
of gem is that?" 


The being approximated a grin that was not a grin, stretching its skin 
far too wide between a set of continuously rolling eyes. "IT'S A 
RUBY | FOUND! I'M GLAD YOU APPROVE OF IT, MS. 
KATHERINE." 


They sat in silence for a few minutes longer as the sun set into a 
wash of dark pink and purple clouds, low on the horizon. A light 
breeze ruffled the woman's bone-white hair, and she hummed a little 
song as she finished the last few stitches. She snipped the thread 
with a flourish. 


"There, love! All done." She stood up shakily, and the creature 
hastened to give her a tentacle to lean on, which she gratefully 
accepted. She turned towards the creature, looking down as she 
folded up one of the largest works she had ever done. 


"THANK YOU, MS. KATHERINE! IT LOOKS LOVELY." It waved a 
few tentacles in the air. 


The old woman looked finally towards her friend, and her eyes were 
the same cataract blue they had been for the last twenty-five years. 


"No trouble, my dear. No trouble at all." 


Legerdemain 


)Take a little walk to the edge of town) 
+Go across the tracks) 


Ogden lay in bed at the MTF Alpha-1 headquarters. Recently his 
dreams took him back to his old neighborhood. He'd stroll down the 
sidewalk where his house used to be, past the pizzeria he once 
frequented as a youth, to the empty back lot where he and his 
friends played baseball. His dream-self turned the corner of the path 
and saw a man standing ten feet away. The stranger had a trench 
coat, a fedora, and a face all too familiar to him. Ogden stood still as 
the figure took three steps towards him and, through the nature of 
dream logic, covered the distance between them. 


"The O5s are all dead. The Administrator won't budge. Where do 
you go from here?" The Dream Man asked. 


"Well," He paused, absorbing the information. "The first thought that 
went in my head was ‘suicide’, but to be honest I'm actually curious 
to see how long I'd last. You still going through with your Plan?" 


"Yes," 


"Damn. You've talked to her already, | assume. | bet it didn't go 
well." 


"She'll probably try and stop us, but then again, everything is trying 
to stop us. True, things did not turn out as | predicted, but at least | 
still have contingencies in storage. She, on the other hand, seems to 
be improvising." 


Ogden let out a slight snicker. "Have the others been called?" 
"The old Hand is being rallied again. Everyone is still separated, so 


don't expect any help. If you guys don't make it out, you don't come 
at all.” 


individuals scoring as high as 74% on the Foundation Standard 
Compliance Examination have provoked such a reaction. 


Choir Events consist of SCP-861 advancing upon the subject and 
forcing itself inside their body using various orifices as access 
points. It should be noted that termination of the subject will not 
prevent SCP-861's reaction's or the completion of the event. Once 
this is complete [DATA EXPUNGED] various forms designated 
SCP-861-A. Observed forms include: 


¢ A vaguely humanoid entity with elongated arms (2.7m), 
underdeveloped legs terminating in crude "tendrils", anda 
quasi-prehensile elongated neck (1.8m). 

A cluster of ophidian entities, each roughly 50cm in length. 
Each entity possessed a head resembling that of a humanoid 
infant. 

¢ Ahumanoid soldier, possibly of 4th or 5th Century Anatolian 
origin. 

[DATA EXPUNGED] consistent with extra-dimensional origin. 
Destruction of entity resulted in destruction of 15% of 
Sector-135-861, and the creation of a spatial anomaly which 
deteriorated 45 hours after onset. 


Regardless of its current shape, SCP-861-A emits a flame similar to 
that of its resting state, but in a white or golden hue. The entity will 
attempt to eject this flame at any human target in the vicinity. Upon 
contact, said target will become engulfed in the flames and be 
rendered completely unresponsive, but will stand with their eyes 
closed for as long as they are physically able. Unlike SCP-861's 
normal flames, however, the subject will burn over a period of 2-3 
hours. Flames produced by burning human organic material will 
reproduce the 'song"! normally produced by SCP-861 at rest, though 
at a different pitch (how this occurs is unknown). Flames ejected by 
SCP-861-A will quickly dissipate if they do not reach a human target, 
and do not appear to ignite any substance other than living human 
beings. 


After any SCP-861-A entity is terminated, its body will exude 
SCP-861, which will return to a resting state. 


Addendum [861-001]: 


The soldier nodded. "| hope out little retirement package works. 
After what happened to your old coat, | don't want to get suspicious 
about my own clothes while getting out." 


"Don't worry. Your attire is far more refined than mine, I've made 
sure of it. I'll see you soon, | hope." And with a tip of his hat, he 
vanished. 


Ogden rose out of his bed, one of many in the barracks. Manfredi, 
Johnson, and Baines were asleep as well. The rest were elsewhere 
in the complex, probably aimless after they lost contact with the O5. 
One would think that a beast like Alpha-1 would thrash in chaos with 
the head that is the O5 chopped off, but the cut was so swift that 
they simply dropped. 


Stretching his arm under the bed, Ogden fished out a box that had 
been collecting dust for years. Inside was a black battledress, one 
that he had never worn before. A secret gift from the First 
Administrator after he stepped down. Once he wears it, he's a full- 
blown traitor — to Alpha-1, the Foundation, and the human race. But 
there was no time for any remorse. Ogden put it on as fast as he 
could. 


Where the viaduct looms) 
dlike a bird of dooms 
As it shifts and cracks)