The other, notably more significant unique quality of SCP-654 is its 
ability to emit sudden bursts of electrostatic discharge from the apex 
of its tusk. The discharge is reminiscent of lightning, and is 
accompanied by a loud crack of sound. While not particularly 
accurate, the tusk can be used to direct the discharge, and SCP-654 
had previously been observed in the wild making use of this ability: 
the mechanism, heretofore referred to as the “Stephens effect,” after 
its discoverer, SCP marine researcher (now project head of 


"... and transfer complete," Davis said. "We've got our 
reinforcements." 


"What does VERITAS say?" Ricci asked. 


"... scanning now. I've got parathreat signatures in Barge 2... as 
expected. Looks like it held." 


"And our newcomer?" the base commander asked. 


"He checks out clean. Stressed and terrified as hell, but no hitch- 
hikers." 


"All right. Send out Richards and Carter," Ricci said. "And let's see 
what Santa and his elves sent us this year." 


The rapping on the windowpane startled Callahan out of his awed 
inspection of the gorgeous night sky. He turned his head to see a 
man in a spacesuit (gold-tinted visor raised to reveal his face), 
waving cheerfully at him. As Callahan watched, the stranger plugged 
an audio cord into a port on the surface of the capsule. "Test, test, 
test, test," a voice rang in his ears. "This is Richards, to capsule 
passenger. How do you read?" 


"Loud and clear, Richards," Callahan replied. "I'm Callahan." 


"Cool. Nice to meet ya, dude,” the man said. "Just hang tight for 
another moment. We'll get you out of there." 


Callahan waved back, and the space-suited man moved on, 
continuing his inspection of the two barges for unexpected 
complications. 


It was a half hour later when the man returned, with a second agent 
in tow. Callahan felt a couple of thuds as something was attached to 
his capsule, then the world tilted upward slightly, and he felt himself 
move. Glancing out the side window, he could see that some sort of 
forklift, with its entire structure covered in insulating panels, had 
lifted up his capsule and was carrying it across the surface of the 
ice-covered rock. The man inside the vehicle (a broad-faced man 
with a big orange beard), waved cheerfully to him, then went back to 


the delicate procedure of moving the crew capsule to its destination. 


A few moments later, Callahan saw his new home come into view: a 
low series of structures, most of them in the shape of cylinders 
resting on their sides, illuminated with pale, bluish lighting. The logo 
of the Global Occult Coalition was inscribed on the side of each one. 
To one side, a bunch of open-topped crates held what appeared to 
be garbage bags or some other refuse. 


Some wag, he saw, had put up a sign outside the biggest building. 
"Welcome to Farpoint Station," it read. "Population 12." 


There was a figure in a space suit standing next to it. As Callahan 
passed by, he took down the plate that read "2" and put up one that 
read "3" in its place. 


The first impression that Callahan got when the airlock doors 
opened was one of claustrophobia. Everything was cramped and 
tight-looking, and every single wall, floor, and ceiling surface was 
covered in instrumentation, equipment, supplies, or lockers. 


The second impression that he got was the smiling woman standing 
in the middle of the room, wearing a loosely fitting set of grey 
trousers, jacket, gloves, as well as a full coverage face mask. 


"WELCOME TO FARPOINT!" she shouted, her voice muffled and 
tinny through the suit helmet. "I'M A.D. RICCI. HANG TIGHT, 
GONNA CHECK THE INSIDE OF THE CAPSULE FIRST." 


Callahan nodded, then waited for a few minutes as the woman 
pulled herself into the capsule in a slow, languid motion, like she 
was underwater. It took her a few minutes to run the scanner all 
along the walls, floor, and ceiling of the capsule, checking for dust or 
hazardous chemicals. She then raised a bulky, older-model 
VERITAS unit up and did a scan of his EVE signature, checking for 
any parathreat hitchhikers. Finally satisfied, she then put the 
scanner away on a holster at her hip and leaned her head in close to 
Callahan's helmet. 


"YOU CAN OPEN UP YOUR SUIT NOW!" she shouted. 


Callahan nodded and reached up to undo the collar of his helmet. 
The air hissed slightly, and he breathed in his first breath of air in his 
new home. 


It smelled kinda like armpits. 


Ricci laughed as Callahan's nose wrinkled. "Yeah," she admitted. "It 
doesn't smell so great in here... but we've got a dozen... a baker's 
dozen now... anyway, we've got thirteen guys living in an enclosed 
environment, breathing in each other's body odor. You get used to it 
after a bit." 


"That explains the crate of air fresheners?" he asked, gesturing toa 
small, sealed box in the corner. 


"Yeah," Ricci admitted. "They don't last, and after a while you get 
sick of the pine tree smell, but... it helps." She helped Callahan to 
undo the harness of his capsule, then pulled him to his feet. In the 
low gravity of Pluto, they rose up nearly all the way to the ceiling 
before coming back down to ground. 


"Wow," Callahan breathed. 


"Yeah," Ricci laughed. "That's another thing you'll take a while to get 
used to. Anyway, welcome to Icetown... the GOC's most ‘forward’ 
Forward Operating Base." 


"Your job is mostly going to be blue-collar," Ricci explained. 
"Expanding the base, now that you've brought the new module. 
Maintaining the systems. Watching over the Depot. And, of course, 
taking readings and doing analysis of the Deep Space Warning 
System." 


"Do the probes ever pick up anything?" Callahan asked. 


"Sometimes. I'll explain later. "She looped her arm into a handle next 
to a low doorway and slid it open. "So this is your room for now," she 
said, gesturing to the interior of a storage cabinet filled with insulated 
bags of water. "We'll put down a sleeping bag for you. It'll only be 


until we finish installing the new habitation modules you brought up. 
Then we're all moving in to our nice, new quarters." 


"What will you do with the old ones?" 


"We didn't have any," Ricci admitted. "We've just been sleeping 
wherever we can find space. | usually do it in the commander's chair 
up in C and C." 


"That... sounds rough." 


"You've got no idea," Ricci sighed. "At least | wasn't here when they 
were doing initial installation. Those guys had to live in their suits for 
a solid week before they could get the core modules set up. Not a 
fun time." 


"| met one of them, during training," Callahan admitted. "Agent 
Xiphos." 


"Oh? Swordy? How is that old fart? Haven't seen him since he 
shunted home." 


"He twitches a lot. And still walks with a cane." 


"Course he does. Tough bastard like that wouldn't stay in a 
wheelchair for long.” Ricci grimaced and shook her head. "Full 
gravity's a bitch. Anyway, leave your stuff here. I'll show you the 
bathroom and galley." 


"... and here we are," Richards said, grinning broadly "The Depot. 
The Coalition's solution for things they can't kill or negotiate with." 


The structure was massive: about the size of an aircraft hangar. All 
throughout the structure were cages, crates, and other containers, 
all of them open to the vacuum and freezing cold of deep space, 
each one labeled and numbered and marked with the seal of the 
Global Occult Coalition. 


"Where do you want this one, Richie?" Carter asked, as he 
maneuvered the small forklift into the building. 


"Let's see... Section Three," Richards said, consulting his 
ruggedized tablet computer. "Next to the Heat-Eater." 


Carter deftly maneuvered the device into the back of the building 
and laid the cylinder down next to a big crate with a temperature 
gauge that hovered somewhere around absolute zero. 


"So, Callahan," Richards asked. "What's in that thing, anyway?" 


"The container?" Callahan asked. "Type Red. Expanding 
Regenerator. Fire didn't work, so they tried ice. That worked, but 
when it thawed out, it kept coming back to life. So they kept it 
suspended in liquid nitrogen until it could come out here." 


"Makes sense," Richards said. "Hey, want to see our UFO?" 
"You mean the actual Zeta Reticulan scout ship? It's here?" 


"Yup," Richards said, grinning. "And if you're real nice, I'll even let 
you sit in the pilot's seat." 


"Sounds like a deal." 


"You have no idea how good it is to taste actual chocolate again," 
Ricci crooned, as she took a bite of the Milky Way bar. "Oh God, it's 
like tasting heaven." 


"Hey, boss," Vandenberg said, grinning, "You give me your orange 
and I'll give you my candy bar." 


"Screw that, Van," Ricci laughed. "I'm going to savor every bite of 
this orange. It's the first time I've had one in a year." 


"| thought you guys had an aeroponics garden?" Callahan asked. 


"It doesn't have oranges,” Ricci pointed out. "Kinda hard to grow an 
orange tree aeroponically. It does okay for tomatoes and onions, 
though." 


"Ding ding ding!" Carter shouted. He tossed a silvery drinks bag to 
Callahan, who caught it. "All right, guys. A toast to our new crew 


member. To Callahan! And may he find his place with us among the 
ice and the dark!" 


"Hear hear." 
"Cheers." 
"I'll drink to that." 


Callahan nodded gratefully to Carter, then took a big swig of his 
drink, only to gag and gasp when, instead of the expected water, 
something closer to pure ethanol hit the back of his throat. 


Everyone laughed and cheered and clapped him on the back. 


"Jesus Christ!" Callahan groaned. "Where the hell did you find this 
stuff?" 


"We distill some of the leftover carbs into alcohol," Carter grinned. 
"I've got a still." 


"And High Command allows this?" he gasped incredulously. 


"High Command knows that we're out here for the long haul, our 
bones slowly turning into mush, surrounded by helium lakes and 
hydrogen snow, watching and waiting over the biggest depository of 
frozen parathreats in the solar system short of the Foundation's own 
stockpiles, and looking out for alien invaders. We do our job... they 
forgive us our indulgences." 


"Then in that case," Callahan sighed, "I'm glad that part of what | 
brought along were a bunch of crates of orange juice powder. 
Screwdriver, anyone?" 


"... and contact," Carter said, as the two structures met up. 


"Hard dock," Vandenberg announced, as the locking latches hooked 
into place. 


"Expanding the structure now." 


In the monitor, Callahan could see the first of the four new habitation 
modules for the base slowly accordioning open, sliding and locking 
into place like the world's most complicated and high-tech pop-up 
book. On another monitor, he could see Carter slowly backing his 
forklift out of the cylindrical micrometeorite shield that the operatives 
had constructed from flat-pack parts over the course of the past 
week. When it had finished deploying, the habitation module would 
be separated from the hard outer shell by a gap of about three 
inches of vacuum: good insulation, and good micrometeorite 
shielding as well. 


"... and that's deployment complete," Carter said. "Let's put the end 
cap on, and check out our new digs." 


"Base Commander gets first dibs!" Ricci declared. 
"Sorry, Boss," Carter laughed. "We agreed to draw straws, right?" 
"This seems remarkably unfair," Ricci complained. 


"You're the one who suggested it, Boss," Carter pointed out. "You 
can't complain if you lose at your own game." 


"Whatever. You're all a bunch of assholes," Ricci pouted. 


Callahan yawned as he bounced slowly down the corridor towards 
the galley. It was "night" shift, around the time when most of the 
station's inhabitants chose to take their sleep cycle, and he needed 
a warm drink. 


He filled up a hot chocolate pouch with hot water from the galley, 
logged the requisition on the galley computer, and started to head 
back to the storage closet that was still his quarters until the second 
hab module finished construction. As he did so, he noticed a low, 
soft light coming from CIC. 


He lifted his way up the ladder and into the base command center, 
which was located on an elevated module overlooking the rest of the 
base. The entire upper half of CIC was a giant observation dome 
made up of thirteen windows in three concentric circles, and it had 


some of the best views of the entire base. 


Ricci was there, sitting in the commander's chair. She had a blanket 
wrapped around her, and she was staring intently into the night sky, 
at the endless expanse of untwinkling stars. She turned to look at 
Callahan, then smiled at him as she snuggled up in the blanket and 
stared out into the universe. 


"Ever think about why we're out here?" she asked softly. 


"... to protect humanity?" Callahan replied. It was the Strike Team 
answer to that question. "To watch for extraterrestrial threats. To 
guard the Depot..." 


"No," Ricci said, shaking her head. "We could have put the Depot on 
Antarctica. Or the Moon, for that matter. And we could watch for 
extraterrestrial threats just as well using ground-based radar 
installations." 


Oh. "Then why?" Callahan wondered. "Why go through all this 
trouble to build a base out here on Pluto?" 


"... if you can answer that question," Ricci said, smiling wistfully, 
"You'd make thirteen people very happy... but | think | have an 
answer." She turned in her couch to face him, resting her head on 
the crook of her elbow. "Why did you volunteer for this assignment?" 
she asked. 


Callahan grimaced. He knew this was going to come up sooner or 
later. "| was in Strike," he said softly. "... | killed a lot of things... a lot 
of people. And then | couldn't keep killing. | was done shooting 
things." He took the seat next to her at the operations center, and 
played idly with a frayed bit of upholstery on the left armrest. "And 
when | heard about this assignment... | figured it would be a good 
chance to do something else. To help the GOC in a way that didn't 
involve killing people any more." 


"For me, it was Assessment," Ricci said softly. "There was a school 
in Newark. A Katie took out an entire third grade classroom. | had to 
watch and monitor it happening. We didn't have the assets to take it 
down. By the time Strike arrived..." She shuddered inwardly at the 


memory. 


"So that's why Farpoint exists?" Callahan asked, bitterly. "So the 
GOC can stash away its broken agents somewhere far away from 
the normal people?" 


"... | don't think that's it either," Ricci said. She sat up and took a 
moment to wrap the blanket around her shoulders. "I think it's 
simpler than that. | think... we might be an emergency backup 
supply for humans, in case Earth gets destroyed. Or maybe we're 
meant to be a bunch of canaries in the coal mine against alien 
invasion. Or maybe we're just here to prove that humanity could do 
this... even if we had to do it in secret from the rest of the world. 
Maybe we're here so that when humanity finally reaches this far... 
they'll be able to see that we've already been here all along... and 
we're waiting to help them reach even further." 


She got up from her chair and let the blanket fall. She was wearing a 
tank top and shorts, Callahan saw, and he felt his heart race as the 
low gravity did charming things to her bustline... 


"... maybe we're out here just to be humans," she whispered, as she 
slid into the chair next to him and kissed him. 


Afterwards, he laughed at the absurdity of it all, as they cuddled 
together under the blanket under the starlight. 


"| have to admit, this is a new one for me," Callahan chuckled. 


"There's a first time for everything,” Ricci giggled. "Just think, 
though... if only we could tell the world. We could answer so many 
questions for them about sex in space..."