Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Danny Fenton's alarm clock blared, jolting him out of his dream. Danny rubbed his eyes and groaned, staring at the ceiling plastered with glow-in-the-dark stars and constellations. The room around him was a shrine to his passion for space: posters of astronauts and far-off galaxies adorned every wall, and stacks of NASA magazines sat dog-eared on his desk—a recent poster of the Ares III. Watching the launch on TV had been a fun time. His only regret was he was too busy to fly out and watch it in person.

"Five more minutes," he mumbled, reaching for the snooze button, but accidentally phased his hand through the clock instead. He sighed.

"Rise and shine, Danny boy!" his dad called from downstairs.

"Coming!" Danny yelled back, attempting to sound more cheerful than he felt. As he swung his legs out of bed, he couldn't help but glance at the newspaper article he had pinned to his corkboard: A detailed interview with the Ares III crew, all about the launch and their mission. One day, he dreamed of going to space, just like them.

Balancing high school and teenage life was already a challenge for Danny, but ever since he gained ghost powers from an accident in his parents' lab, his whole world had been turned upside down.

He could barely keep his eyes open in class. Not that math was ever intriguing.

It wasn't easy being a teenager with ghost powers, especially when there were organizations like the GIW who would do anything to get their hands on him. Things had gotten harder with the GIW; they had been cracking down on ghost activity and trying to capture his ghost half. It didn’t help that the GIW had labeled all ghosts as a threat that needed to be neutralized, and since they were labeled as dead, in the GIW's eyes and the government's eyes, they were doing nothing wrong. It was all fine since the dead could not be hurt.

Tucker had discovered that the GIW had also been blocking any social media posts and news from Amity regarding ghosts. So, to the outside world, they were just a backwater town with a fun tourist trap attraction. It didn’t help that Vlad was backing the GIW and encouraging them to censor Amity Park.

"Earth to Danny!" his sister Jazz teased as she poked her head into his room. "Seriously, what's with you lately?"

"Nothing," he lied, forcing a smile. "Just tired."

"Alright," she replied skeptically. "Just remember, I'm here if you need to talk."

"Thanks, Jazz." He appreciated her concern.

Danny reluctantly got ready for the day; he looked at his bed with longing. He barely got any sleep last night. Skulker was giving him problems most of the night.

With a sigh, Danny leaves for school. He hopes that Dash will take it easy on him. If he gets shoved into one more locker today, he might just snap.

******

Danny's eyes snapped open as a bright light flooded the small room. He squinted against the harsh glare, trying to determine where he was. The last thing he remembered was flying home from school when everything went black. Now he found himself strapped to a cold metal table, his arms and legs bound by thick leather anit-ghost straps.

Danny struggled against the glowing green restraints binding him to the cold metal table, but it was no use. The anti-ghost cuffs sapped his strength, leaving him weak and helpless.

"Subject is regaining consciousness," a voice droned from somewhere in the shadows.

Danny's heart pounded in his chest. The Guys in White had captured him. He struggled against the restraints, but he was still too groggy from whatever drug they had used to knock him out.

A man in a pristine white suit loomed over Danny, peering down at him through dark sunglasses. "Let's see what makes this ghost boy tick," he sneered.

Danny screamed in agony as the ecto-shocker sent searing pain through his body. The green electricity crackled over his skin, burning into his flesh. He could smell the sickly stench of his own ectoplasm as it bubbled from the wounds.

"Please, stop!" Danny begged, thrashing against the restraints that held him to the cold metal table. But the white-clad GIW agent standing over him just laughed cruelly and turned up the dial, increasing the voltage.

"Subject is displaying enhanced strength," one of the expressionless agents in white hazmat suits muttered into a recorder. "Increasing power output."

Pain erupted through Danny's body as the restraints glowed brighter, crackling with electricity. He cried out, thrashing against them.

"Please, stop!" Danny begged.

Danny's screams turned to whimpers as the agent finally powered down the ecto-shocker. His small body trembled uncontrollably, his jumpsuit charred and smoking.

He had no idea how long he had been imprisoned here. The agents kept him drugged and disoriented. Time blurred between sessions on the table as they poked, prodded, cut, and shocked him. They were obsessed with learning his secrets, tearing him apart molecule by molecule.

Just as the agent prepared to make another incision, a glowing green vortex suddenly erupted in the room. It swirled violently, like a miniature tornado, and its eerie light cast flickering shadows across the walls.

The agent stumbled back in surprise, the scalpel falling from his hand. Danny watched with wide eyes as the portal stabilized into an oval shape, its center shimmering with supernatural energy. The portal crackled with unstable energy, starting to swirl and pulling things from the room into it, including the table Danny was strapped to.

The moment he passed through its threshold, gravity disappeared. Danny floated weightlessly in a haze of green, the light searing his eyes. This portal was more violent than the one he was used to. It tossed him around, tearing him from his restraints.

Exhaustion crept over him. The torture, the portal - it was too much. Danny's eyes fluttered closed as he lost consciousness, tumbling through the green void. He was unaware as the portal spit him back out.

When he came to, the first thing he noticed was the quiet. Gone were the harsh lights and sounds of the lab. He lay sprawled on rough, red soil, a faint breeze stirring his white hair. This didn’t feel like earth, it was too cold, and he felt how hard it was to breath here, he was better off not breathing and letting his core do the work. Even though his core burned with pain from the torture he undertook. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the unfamiliar night sky.

Danny’s core sang with happiness. He could feel the difference in gravity. *Am I on Mars? * He thought to himself.

Groaning, Danny pushed himself up on his hands and knees, wincing as pain lanced through him. His hazmat suit was tattered and burnt, green-red ectoplasm staining the fabric. The GIW had done a number on him.

Shielding his eyes from the harsh sunlight, Danny scanned his new surroundings. The dusty Martian landscape stretched as far as he could see. In the distance, a cluster of habitats and rovers marked what had to be the Ares III site.

Danny had avidly followed the mission back on Earth. He knew the crew: Commander Lewis, Pilot Martinez, Dr. Beck, Johanssen, Vogel, and the botanist Mark Watney.  

Danny shivered; they were his only chance of survival, stranded and injured as he was.

Holding his side, Danny began stumbling toward the habitats, his jumpsuit boots leaving prints in the rust-colored soil. He had to make it there before his strength gave out completely. Just a little farther...

Suddenly, his legs buckled, sending him sprawling face-first onto the hard ground. The last of his energy spent, Danny's glowing green eyes slid closed. He lay motionless as his blood pooled beneath him, staining the Martian soil a vivid emerald.

*This is it. At least I got to go to another planet...*

Chapter Text

Meanwhile, the Ares III crew was busy completing their daily tasks on the surface of Mars.

Rick saw a speck in the distance through his binoculars. As it drew closer, he realized it was something strange - a body? "Hey guys, you should come see this..." he called over the radio.

****

As they approached, they found a pale, skinny humanoid lying unconscious on the ground. The figure's skin seemed to emit a faint glow, offset by stark white hair that seemed to defy gravity. But what astonished them most was the fact that the creature was breathing the thin Martian air without any protective gear. More concerning was the glowing green liquid around it. It was seeping out of the creature, staining the ground below it.

"Is it...an alien?" Mark whispered, equal parts awestruck and apprehensive.

 Dr. Beck kneeled next to the motionless figure. Dr. Beck noted its slender build and the green blood seeping from various wounds. "We need to get him back to the hab."

 Beck frowned when he tried to find a pulse. He could not find one. He wondered if the creature was already dead. But that couldn’t be right. It was still bleeding, and it had flinched a bit when he touched its cold skin. He could see the fluttering movement under its eyelids. Beck tried to keep any rash judgment at bay. This was a new lifeform, and it was highly likely it functioned differently compared to a human.

"Man, NASA's going to flip when they hear about this," Rick said, grinning beneath his helmet.

*****

Danny drifted in and out of consciousness. Voices swirled around him, urgent and confused.

"It's still breathing somehow. The atmosphere here must not be toxic to its species."

"Let's get it inside. Careful now, it's badly hurt."

Strong but gentle hands slid under Danny's limp body, lifting him effortlessly. He blearily took in the NASA logo on the man's suit - Martinez, the pilot. Danny wanted to speak and explain himself but was too weak to do anything. He let his head loll against Martinez's chest as he was carried into the hub.

Danny became dimly aware of hands pressed against his neck, wrist, and chest—checking vital signs. Danny forced his eyes open and immediately shut them against the harsh lights overhead. He was no longer outside. The air here smelled sterile, with an undertone of body odor. Where had they taken him?

Danny heard a faint gasp. A hand smoothed his hair out of his face. They had noticed the moment his eyes opened. A feminine voice was saying soothing words to him. His head hurt too much to concentrate on the words. He couldn’t help pressing his head into the touch of the hand. Danny cracked his eyes open; he could see humanoid figures around him in hazmat suits. He felt his breath quicken. Was he back with the GIW?

The hand on his head slid down to cup his cheeks. He turned his head to the side, away from the other figures tending to him. The face inside the hazmat suit locked eyes with him. She was trying to say soothing words to him and calm him down.

Danny felt his breath even out as he locked eyes with the other person. He felt a jolt of recognition. He knew who this was. It was Beth…. Beth Johanssen. One of the astronauts of the Ares III.  He felt a jolt of excitement, but then he felt a rush of fear; he could feel he was still in his ghost half. What must they think of him? What if they turn him over to the GIW? Do they even know about Amity Park ghosts? Danny wished his powers were working so he could sink through the floor and disappear.

Danny closed his eyes, not wanting to see what they would do to him.

Rough hands grasped Danny's shoulders, peeling off the tattered remains of his suit. He whimpered involuntarily as the fabric pulled away from dried blood. The hands stilled momentarily, then continued their work, more gently this time. His boots and the rest of the suit followed. Danny shivered as cool air hit his exposed skin.

A finger pressed lightly against his wrist, counting his pulse. "It's slow. Maybe 50 BPM?" said a puzzled male voice in a soft tone.

"Body temperature is low, too. Around 85 degrees Fahrenheit," said another voice, this time female.

Danny kept his eyes shut, feigning unconsciousness. He could feel Johanssen's hand gently petting his head, trying to offer comfort. He could sense the emotions around him. At least he couldn’t feel any ill will. But he was still hurt and scared.

"Look at this." A finger lightly traced one of the fresh wounds on Danny's chest, making him flinch. "These are clearly from some kind of blades or knives."

“Hey! Be gentle, you’re scaring him!” The voice of Beth spoke up.

“Oh, sorry.” The male voice answered in a sheepish tone.

"Let's get him patched up, and we can take some samples to analyze."

"....NASA will be eager to get their hands on him for further study..."

“They better treat him respectfully; this is our first contact, and we don’t want to hurt our new friend,” Beth said, her tone fiercely protective.

Danny tensed, preparing for more pain; he whimpered as he felt the pain of needle and thread binding his flesh back together. He couldn’t help the cries of pain that left his lips. He tried to wiggle away but felt multiple hands pin him down.

“I know, I know, we’re sorry, we don’t know if we can give you anything for the pain.” Beth's voice whispered next to his ear. Her hands held his head steady. She kept a string of soothing words, trying to keep her tone soft and kind.

“He probably doesn’t even understand you.” Another female voice spoke. Danny guessed it must be the mission commander, Melissa Lewis.

“But tone might help, see’s he’s not struggling as much.” A male voice argued back.

Danny went in and out of consciousness. He whimpered at the pain of them patching him up.  Gauze followed, wrapping firmly around his torso. He felt relaxed, he felt so tired, and he was still in so much pain. He let out a soft sigh, too exhausted to keep up the act. He felt the pull of sleep. Danny gave in and let the darkness of sleep take him.

"Those were not natural wounds," said Doctor Beck. "The scarring indicates prolonged torture. It might have been some kind of experiment that escaped or a victim of some kind."

“But how did it get here?” Melissa asked with a concerned look.

“Yeah, is a crashed ship or something we should be worrying about?” asked Rick.

“NASA didn’t detect any UFOs.” Melissa pointed out.

“What if someone or something comes looking for him?” asked Watney.

“Let's hope not; if they're hostile, we have nothing to defend ourselves with.” Alex Vogel stated.

 Beck noted the differences between this boy and a human. His skin emitted a soft glow, his ears were pointed, and his nails were claw-like. When they checked his vitals, they found that his heart rate and body temperature were much lower than normal.

Despite the anomalies, the basic anatomy was humanoid. "He's definitely male," Beck noted clinically during the exam. "And based on the development, I'd guess his species matures at a similar rate to humans. He seems to be an adolescent."

Beck then took a blood sample, trying to be as gentle and non-invasive as possible. He had to take multiple cause the first view started to dissolve some of the tools. He had to find a container that could hold the blood. A glass tube seemed to do the trick.

"Be careful with the blood samples," Dr. Beck warned as they collected tissue samples for study. "It seems to dissolve some of our tools."

They noticed multiple scars on his body, evidence of past traumas, and observed signs of infection setting in around his current injuries. A feeling of empathy began to well up within the crew, their hearts aching for this child who had endured so much pain.

"Is he going to be alright?" Beth asked, her voice cracking as she looked down at the unconscious boy.

“Time will tell; we did our best for him,” Beck answered.

They conducted a light examination of his body, careful not to cause him any distress. They snapped photos and scribbled notes for a detailed report to send back to NASA. The news of discovering an alien would be world-changing. This would no doubt turn NASA on its head, probably causing some chaos back on Earth.

As the crew continued to observe their alien guest, they dressed him in a spare jumpsuit that hung loosely on his small frame. It was clear he needed time to heal and regain his strength.

"Let's move him to the crew quarters where he can rest," Lewis decided. They had done all they could for now. She logged the last few notes in her report, tagging it as a high priority for transmission back to NASA. They had decided it would be hard to avoid any contamination or disease from the boy. So they took off their hazmat suits and decided to focus on caring for and comforting their guest.

Watney carefully gathered the boy up, frowning at his lightweight frame. He gently laid him on one of the bunks.

Watney tucked the blanket around the sleeping boy, noting how young and vulnerable he looked.  

The boy's rest was fitful, face pinched as fever wracked his body. Beck monitored his vitals. Beck was unsure of what temperature was normal for the boy. So, he just kept an eye on him to see if he started to go towards distress. Beck had so many questions for their new guest. He felt excitement among his concerns. Beck never imagined they would, ACTUALLY, come across an alien on their mission. Never thought this would be how he went down in the history books.

Beck reached out and smoothed the hair out of the boy’s face. He frowned at the amount of sweat the kid was producing. His body was no doubt fighting off an infection. This kid needed them; whatever he went through was no doubt awful. The kid whimpered but pressed his face into his hand, seeking comfort.

Their mission had changed; this alien kid’s survival was now their priority.

Chapter Text

Teddy Sanders sat rigid, his mind still processing the discovery made by the Ares crew. Mitch Henderson, Annie Montrose, and Vincent Kapoor were with him in his office.

"We've got a situation," Teddy said gravely. "The Ares crew has discovered what appears to be...an alien child."

Shocked silence. Coffee sloshed onto Mitch's shoes from the mug he was sipping. 

 Annie broke the silence, her voice tinged with incredulity. "Is this some joke? Are we being pranked?"

Teddy shook his head. "They swear it's real. Kapoor, your thoughts?"

Kapoor stroked his beard. "The statistical probability of encountering alien life is infinitesimal. And yet..."

"Apparently higher than we thought," Teddy responded dryly, watching each grapple with the revelation's weight. He knew NASA had hypothetical protocols for extraterrestrial contact, but nothing so specific, nothing for this.

"It looks human," Teddy said. "Identical in most ways, except for some key differences; it's got glowing skin, eyes, and green blood."

Mitch gulped his coffee. "Have them keep studying the thing. We'll figure out what to do once it's back on Earth."

Vincent Kapoor cleared his throat. "The resemblance to humans is...striking. Statistically improbable, as I said. Makes one wonder..."

He trailed off, but Teddy picked up the thread. "Wonder if it's some kind of experiment. Engineered to look like us. A trap."

"One would think they'd do a better job making it look like a human if that was the case." Mitch pipped up. "Maybe something bigger is messing with both races if we follow that line of thought." 

Teddy shook his head. "Either way, finding a lone child lightyears away from any hospitable planet defies logic. We have to consider this may be bait for something larger."

"It does beg the question of how he got to Mars; our satellites have not detected any crash or ship in orbit or on the surface. Granted, we could have missed something, or it could be that our guests have better technology that allows them to hide." Kapoor added. 

Teddy stood abruptly. "Another reason why we need to keep this quiet. Once word gets out, we lose control. I won't have chaos over this...thing. We have more questions than answers."

Annie threw up her hands. "We can't just hide an alien child like some dirty secret." Annie Montrose leaned forward, her hands pressed flat against the gleaming surface of the conference table. 
"Teddy, with all due respect," she began, her voice measured but carrying a bite that demanded attention. We shouldn't keep this secret for too long; the backlash would be bad."

 
"Backlash? What about panic and people's worldviews and beliefs being turned around? The public can't know... not yet," Teddy shot back. 

The gruff voice of Mitch Henderson cut through the rising tide of disquiet. "Regardless of the debate on transparency," he said, standing up, his presence dominating the small space. The Ares crew has a job to do. They're scientists and explorers—they can handle this. They should continue treating the child, assess its health and viability... and hell, even consider the possibility of bringing it back to Earth."

"Bringing an extraterrestrial being back to Earth?" Teddy raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched onto his features even as he considered Mitch's suggestion. "The risks involved with such a decision are..."

"Are worth it if that thing can teach us about what else is out there," Mitch interjected firmly, his confidence unwavering. "We adapt, we overcome. That's what we do—that's what NASA does. And right now, that little guy out there might need us more than we need another soil sample."

Annie nodded in agreement, pleased with Mitch's stance. 

"Let's not forget," she added, "that how we handle this will set a precedent for any future encounters of this kind. The world is watching, even if they don't know it yet. And while I still think the people deserve to know, I understand the high risk of hysteria." 

"Exactly." Teddy's nod was firm. He looked each of them in the eye, ensuring he had their undivided attention. "We inform the necessary agencies and get the President on board. But we do not breathe a word to the press or the public until we have the alien safe on Earth."

After a long pause, Teddy continued, " We'll proceed with caution. Mitch, coordinate with the Ares crew. Annie, start drafting contingency plans for communications. We need to be ready for any outcome."

Mitch stood. "I'll send word to the Hermes. Take good care of our new friend up there."

Vincent lingered by the door as the others began to disperse, a contemplative frown creasing his brow. "Teddy, wait," he said, stepping back into the room.
Vincent Kapoor cleared his throat. "We need to learn more about...him," Kapoor said carefully. "Where he came from, why he was alone. Whether there are others."

Teddy nodded. "Agreed. It's highly concerning that we don't know how he got there." 

"The crew should also conduct in-depth research and analysis to explore the alien child's origins and capabilities." Vincent went on. 

"Like what?" Teddy prompted, his voice measured, eyes locked onto Vincent with keen interest.

"Biological assessments, behavioral studies, environmental adaptability," Vincent enumerated, counting off on his fingers. "We need data. Without it, we're navigating blind. And if we're bringing him back to Earth, we must understand how he might interact with our biosphere. He could die if we mess this up."

"I agree," Teddy said, his demeanor signaling that he understood the necessity of Vincent's point. There are a lot of unknowns here. We can't afford mistakes—not with the public, not with the government, and especially not with this child. We'll make sure the crew knows. I'm sure the kid will be in good hands." 

*******

Mitch sat down at a computer, typing out a message to the Ares:

"Ares crew, this is Flight. We have discussed the situation and feel the alien child's care and evaluation should be your top priority. Continue providing medical treatment and studying its abilities. But exercise extreme caution - we know very little about what we're dealing with. Its health and safety must be ensured before any return to Earth is considered. Proceed with your other mission objectives as normal. We eagerly await your reports. Godspeed."

*******

Leaning forward, Teddy began drafting an urgent memorandum to the President. This was bigger than any one person or agency. The fate of the world could hang in the balance. He chose each word carefully, knowing the wrong ones could set disastrous events in motion.
After several drafts, he had a document that conveyed the gravity of the situation without hyperbole. The President would see the need for secrecy as clearly as he did. Teddy encrypted and sent the memo, then sat back heavily. 

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" he muttered. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Bedside Manners

Dr. Beck sat by their young guest’s side. He monitored his vitals and recorded them.

"Poor kid probably doesn't even know where he is," Martinez said.

"Infection's setting in. We need to get his fever down." Beck stated.

Dr. Beck placed a cool cloth on the kids’ forehead, speaking softly. The kid thrashed in restless sleep.

"Body temperature is still well below human norms," said Dr. Beck; he shone a light in Danny's eyes and listened to his heartbeat with a stethoscope. "God, his heart does the strangest thing. It only seems to beat when he is close to consciousness and it’s slower too when it is beating.”

The commander nodded, making notes on her tablet. "Let's get some more blood samples and tissue scrapings. Be careful with his blood, though. Remember how it corroded the syringe?"

Doctor Beck took a sample and handed it off to Alex Vogel.

"I've never seen biochemistry readings like this,” Vogel commented, "The blood and tissue samples are just bizarre. Half of our analysis equipment can't even identify the components."

Danny's fever worsened, and the crew did everything possible to help him. He slipped in and out of consciousness, confused and frightened. When he finally woke up, still with fever and, in pain from his injuries and weakened by his malfunctioning powers, he found himself surrounded by strange faces. For a moment, Danny thought he was still with the GIW. He scrambled back, ignoring how his frantic movement was pulling at his stitches. He felt his eyes grow a brighter green, and he hissed at them. Pulling from deep inside of himself, Danny spoke in the instinctual language that all ghosts and, in some cases, liminal and mediums know. Ghost speak.

"̸̛̠̜̐͛̃̒̄̊L̵̛̹̹̜̭̜̪̙̮̫̱͉̠̪͈̋̊̌͗̍͋̕͜͝e̸̫͔̘̋̆̍̏̈́͂̇͗̈́͋̉͘̚͝͝͠ǎ̵̛̙̮̬̦̲͓͉́̈̀̇̔́̆́̏̿̕v̶͕̻̗̘͌̿̐̌̓̿͊́͐̃̌͂͝e̴͍̍͊͑̓͐̐̌̍̅̕ ̷̦̻̞̻̺̣͔̬̪̗̫̦̙͓̈̑͌͛̏̓͂́̈́͒͝͝ͅṁ̵͈̖̯̮̜͉͇̳̗̯͎̘̱̪̻͌̀̇̎̽͂͝ė̸̡̨̢̛̟̦̳̙̬̩̮͍͍͓͉̏̈̈́̂͒̃͛̄̈́̈̚ ̵͕̥̮̗̣̖͓̼̣̀̓̌ă̴̩̦̣͍̟̣̗͍̰̣̔̇̋̋̎̀͌̇͛́́͆̚͜͝l̴̼̃͒o̸̧̭͉̦̖͕̕ǹ̵̡͕͙̫̖͕͙͈̣̫͍̉̌̐̉̓̓̊̊̚͜͜ͅe̴̛͙̮̰͎̙̓͆͌̒͌̊̕͠͠!̵̖͊͗̓̽̂̃͛̔̿͋̿̃̚͘͘͠͠!̷̡̢̧̺̩̮̐͐͜!̴̧͔̪̞̟͚̻͖̰͎̣͍̍̀̄̍͗͛͗̋̓̿̃͒̃͛̔͂"̸̼̇̍͊̓̃͠͝    The boy yelled. PANIC! FEAR! DANGER!

 The crew stared in fascination. They swore they felt emotions flowing off those words, emotions like fear, hurt, confusion, and panic. The strangest thing they all knew was that those emotions were tied to the words spoken, and the boy, as if the vibrations they felt, carried the emotions over.

The sound from the boy’s mouth made the crew flinch. It was musical and felt like it vibrated through their bones and souls. The sounds and syllables felt like they would be impossible for any humanoid to pronounce.

Worse yet was the uncanny feeling of just barely being able to understand what he was saying. The meaning seemed to be at the edge of their minds, slipping through their fingers before they could comprehend what was said.

They all stared in wide-eyed shock.

Immediately, Dr. Beck held up his hands in a calming gesture.

"It's alright," he said gently. "We're not going to hurt you."

The alien child flinched away, obviously terrified. Beck's heart ached for the traumatized boy.

Y̵̠̠͓͎̮͓͈̤͈͖̌̎͑̑̀̕o̶̻̺̞͉̠͇̼͙̎͛͐̏͑̕̚͝͝u̴̢̖̟̥̜̘̗̯͈͍͎̦̮͇͎͋̿͋̾̅͜ ̶̳̎̊̀͋̂̐͘l̵̡̢̡̰̠̣͖̗̤͕͚̰̩̖̋͊̂ͅḯ̶͓̯̻̥̺̜̈́͊̄̎̀͠ę̶̛̖̞̟̩̥̺̫̭̱͇͈̼͚̑̾̉́͆͑̏̇̀́͘!̷̨̢̗̬̪̲̥̭͚̮͈̦̙̟͋̈́̎̋̂͗̔̍͊̿̽̀̅̒̕͜ ̷̢̢͓̮̻̗̻̪͖̤͇͕̤̯̝̓̇͗̀̈́̆̏̎̚͜͝Ģ̷̲͉͎̣̤̭̺̮̭̼̱̗̟̮̓̃̀̈́ơ̸͇̪̩̜̓̽̇̒̓̾̒͒̕̚͠͠ ̸̛̪̭̹͛̊̈͆̀͑̋͒̈̇̽͗͗͂̀ä̷̯́͛̇͂͆̀͐̈́̿̌w̷̨̯͎̣̹͚̩̹̙̩̻̞̮̜̥̞̘͗̒̿̏̑̓̈̓͝á̶̯̪̘̗͒͂̉̈́̆͗͋̂̈́y̷͇̹̫͉̜̳͙̝̩̪̟͕̎̽̀͋̄̈́̏͌̈̅̄̆̀͐̑̕!̵̡̛̭̳͉̗̮̣͖͕̤͂̄́́̽̀̄̈͂̍͂͠ ̷̫̹̗͍͉̱̹̻̙͇̣̋̾̐̆̈́̊̌̉͆̓̚L̵̬͇̠̐̓ḝ̸̧̛̛̠͍̠̯͔̲͈͉͚̱̭̯̖̓̂͌̄͆̏͌̃̓̌̓̑͜͝t̵͚̜͍̆̎̐͑̋̿̒̋͂̉́̚͜͝ ̵̤̮̬͉̗̗̾͒̐̒̄̂͝m̸̢̧͇̲̲͎͉̺̩̣͓̯̃͗͌̊̾̅́͘͝ȩ̷̢̰͔̯̹̬̭̥̬͔͈̲͆̀ ̴̨̡͉͕̫͓͖̟̭̇̽ĝ̷̨̘̝̠̰̝͚̖̗͍̠̭͈̪͉͆͜ö̴͈̗̹͚̥̜̰̩̖́̆̐͐͊̕ͅ!̸̡̢̯̼͎̣̯̠̰̫͚̳̦̏̌̍̾ͅ ̵̛̩̦̠͖͇̟̃̉̓̓͌̉̎̂̓͛͂̈́͠͝͝ͅ The boy looked more panicked and like he was about to bolt for it. DISTRUST! HURT! FEAR!

Alex Vogel spoke up to everyone’s surprise, including the alien child.

“̵̻̥̩̃̽̐̃̇̾̈́Ḩ̶͈̝͍̞̦̘̲͙̳̮͎͊̈͐͋͛͊̽̋̈́͋́́̾̕̕̕͝ë̷͍͙͕́͐̃̓̋̀͑̓͗͘̚y̸͚̖̝̲̖͚̱̣̹̬̫̟̩̣̤̆́̑̀͑̅͝͝!̷̲̖̖̠̤͂͆̀̀̂̓͐͝͝͠ ̵̡̫͈̺̥͓͎̮͚̘͓̘̱͌̉̀͜͝E̷͈̊̈̽͐́̑̇̆̀͊̅̆̈́͘͝͝ă̴̡̨̧̟̟͙̄̎̈́̎͜s̸̨̛͕̦̰͔͙͊͊͆͋̈́̅͑̀͂̐̚y̴̬͙̿̔̌͐͛ͅ!̸̜͕͙̗͚̘̼̫͓͔̰͓͇͙́̋̀́̏͒͆̾̆͂̂͘͠͠͝ ̴̢̰̼̠̭̙̍̆͂͒̉́͝W̴̧̧͚̱̫̲̭̲̌͋̒̌͒̂̔͘͠͠ͅé̶̟̘͓͇͕̟̪̼͎̰͉͚͍̲͐̓͒̃́̽́̃͆̍͑͘̚͝͝͠ ̴̛̦̙̽̏̏̂̇͗̄̇͛̒͝͝w̶̯͈͙͒̌͌̅̓̓̏̈́͝à̴̳͖̲̺̪̗̘̼̘̩̞̎̌͌́͊̈́̓̀̈́͐̿͛͘͝ņ̸̮̝͕͍͙̠̤͓̪͐̔̋ṫ̷̛̥̲̖̞̖̟̮͆̊͝ ̴̧͍̱͚͓̘̰͎̖̈́̂̔̿̃̀̉̽͗̓̄̇̀̊̚͠t̷̡̡̫̗̳̭̲̞͖͔͇͊ớ̷̢̢̢̻̖͍͍͓̪͙̮͔͍̟̥̌̄̉̀̉̒̉͌̓̚͝ ̵̛̬̗̙̺̼̉̑̓́̾̋̀̎̍̆̈́͗̚͠͝ḥ̸̡̩̱͖̺͇̠̳̖͖̈́̾̏͗͑͒̿̾͜ͅe̷̡̨̼̬̠͖͇̲̙͙͇͐̓̍̓́́̐͜͜͝͝l̵̛̰̦̈́͛͛̋̂̍͗͝p̵̳̭̟͎͉̤͔͙͙̞͑̽͗̈́̒̈́͘ ̷̧̛̛̛̩̯̤̱͉̞̭̻̪̘͉̩̳̙̳̐̇͐̿͌̂̉͌̉͑̆̽͜y̷̧͖͓͉͚̝̳̰̜͛͑̎̕ǫ̴̼̳̹̼̦̥͉̤͊̽̽̽͘͝u̶͎̥̤̙̎̎́̾̎́̚̕͠͝͠,̶̱̮͇̑́̇̕ ̶͍̙͈̼̫͕̋̊̉̂͋̀̇̐͛̍͠Ĭ̶̥͉͚͚͔͎͌͊̅̓͑̆̀̏͝ ̴̨̣̙̼̟̘̺͙̳̞̇͛̽͊̑͛͠p̶̧̜̹͉̺͙̹̜̳̳̘͇̉͜ŗ̴̡̛͔̮̗̻̳̱͔͈̦̼̜̭͓̳̀́̏̈́̐̑̈́͒̿͌̅̚͝͝͠ͅo̶̫͚̻͎̜̫̥̙̠̫͕͙͍̞̰͒̀̇̀͌̐̂͌̈̌͜͝͠͠͝m̶͍̠̦̬̻̠͒̓̊̉̐̀̈́̓̅̑͒̎́̎͜͝ͅī̵̡̨̛̛̬̯̗͙̻̦̯͚̠͖̞̩̦̮͗̈̎̊̈́̏͆̒͛̂̚͜͝s̷̢̯̺̬͉̬̠̪̯̀̈́̄̇̕ͅe̷̘̜̯̯̦͙̟̘͍̰̝͉͋̃̒̈́͗͛̊̑́̊͝͠ ̸̭̈́̎͊̐͋́̚ẇ̶̧͉̝̞͎̟̙͉̙̪̗͚̳̦͇̿͑̄̉̆́͆̈́̈́͐͝e̷̳͙̠͋́̋̐̅̾͂͗͌̄̀̇̋͊ ̷̧̡̥̱̹̥̦̦͖̫̮̺̱̫͓̖̏̅̀̏͑̾̋͗̎̿́̉͆͗͑̈́͝w̶̢̜͈̲̣̳͕̳̻̪͕̺͙͍͖̜̠̔̓̈́o̵͍͎͈̯͔̻͈͔͓̫͈̹͌̍̆̃̈́̊͊̓̈́̌̄̓͛͝͝ͅn̶̡̨̧̗͈̩̤̲͔͔͖͕̯̭̠̑́̉̋̎̑͑̑̈́̈́͊͑͠’̵̧̦̝̼͎̝̩͕̍̅͗͑̍̔̄̌̆̓̎͘͠͝ͅt̷̫́͝ ̴̢̨̡̢͓̤͍͉̩̣̠̦̬͍̫͉̈̓͛̉̚h̵̼͎̥̭͉̭̞͎̄̽̂̚͝ų̶̡͎̣̗̩̰̜̺̹͙̳̔͛̈͗̆̃̔̈́͛̀̎̆̐́͜͜ͅͅr̷̰͖̮͚̙͍͈̒̋͝ť̷̢̨̨̛͕̰̯̗̲͍̙̦̜͖̭͗̈́̾̾̉͑̄͋͋͆̓̓͐͘ ̵̥͍͗͋̒̉̚͝y̵̡̡͇͙̰͎̣̙̣͖͖͍̺̐̏̐͆̌͋̏͆͝ǭ̶̨̺̺͙̘̥̻̙̣̻̘͑̕̚ų̴̨͉͈͓̙̫̟͚̰͕͖̜̖̄̑̋͝!̷̧̛̫̥̩̬̜̼͙͔̔̈́̾̍̅̄̏͐̍͐̃͜ͅ”̴̺́̿̏̓̋̎̍͝

Vogel looks shocked at what just came out of his mouth.

His crewmates whip their heads around to look at him in disbelief.

 “I…...what…. I don’t know how…… I did not…. I…... What?” Vogel stuttered. He stared down at his chest in confused bewilderment. Only after speaking in the strange tongue did he even realize he did. It felt as natural as breathing and like it had come from deep within himself.

“What the actual fuck!” Mark spluttered.

“How the hell do you get those sounds out of your mouth?” Rick

“Um, when did you learn an alien language?” Beth

“Omg, Alex is an alien….” Mark said in a teasing tone but with a hint of accusation.

“I Don’t Know! I just did it; it felt like I was speaking in English; I could understand him!” Alex defended himself, just as confused.

“Wait, you understood? What did he say? What did you say?” Commander Lewis demanded, getting down to business.

“He was scared that we were going to hurt him, that we where lying, I told him we’re helping him.” Alex Vogel explained.

“Can you speak it again?” Beck asked.

“um…. I’ll try.” Alex looks self-conscious and confused.

“Hello, um…... I’m now speaking……oh god, no…..um…. ugh! How about now? No? NOW?” Alex kept trying to summon his new ability with no luck.

“Man, that’s embarrassing for you…. maybe you should stop,” Watney commented with a look of pity and amusement.

“I can’t just do it! God, it felt weird. I just knew it in the moment!” Alex said with frustration.

“Look, the kid looks confused, too. Are you sure you said the right thing and didn’t insult him? I mean it didn’t exactly sound like his, I didn’t feel any emotions or vibrations.” Martinez asked.

“I’m positive! I thought I was speaking English! And I heard it as English, or I guess it just translated to English in my mind?” Alex explained with a look of uncertainty.

“Maybe it’s some translating ability? Either way, NASA will want to know. And Beck will have to examine you.” Lewis stated.

Danny, meanwhile, was internally cursing his luck. His mind cleared up slightly from its fevered state after the shock of hearing ‘ghost speak’ from one of the humans in the room.

The thing about 'ghosts speak' is that all ghosts know it; it’s already written in their minds and souls. But the interesting thing about it is that you don’t need to be a ghost to learn or speak it.

In the simplest terms, ghosts speak the language of the soul. Anything living could understand it. Granted, most living things need to die first to connect with their souls in order to speak it.

For the living to understand it, they would either have had a death experience, some out-of-body experience, be liminal, or have a really good connection with their soul through meditation. The only difference between the living speaking it and ghosts was the vibrations and emotions sent with it. It just wasn’t physically possible for the human body to produce and send their emotions.

If Danny were to guess, he would bet this guy had some near-death experience, which would have unlocked the ability. However, the guy wouldn’t have known until it was triggered by another speaking it, which is what just happened.

Now Danny had a problem. He could continue to use ghost speak and pretend to be the alien they believed him to be or keep silent. If he continued to use ghost speak, Mr. Vogel would be able to understand it more and speak it at will. And then they would have a way to question him.

Danny chooses to stay silent.

 “Maybe you’ll speak it again if the kid talks?” Beth suggested.

They all turn to look at the boy expectantly, but the boy stares back with a look of fear and weariness.

Commander Lewis hummed in thought. “I think we try to introduce ourselves. That might get a response.” She stood before the scared boy and placed a hand on her chest. “Lewis.”

Martinez stepped forward next. “Rick. I’m Rick.”

Watney tapped his chest next. “Mark.”

The rest each tapped their chests, introducing themselves, hoping to get a response.

“Beth.”

“Chris.”

“Alex.”

Danny observed this; he frowned in thought. It would make sense to respond. Plus, he didn’t want to seem too dumb; it might make it harder to stick with the act. Besides, it shouldn't do any harm to speak it again; what were the odds that Alex would be able to connect with it so soon?

“̴̨̥̖̹͖̝̹̱͔̩̘̉̋̈́̇̀̕͜͝M̵̨̛͓̞͕̩̯̥͔͉̮̹̐͆y̴̛̠͔̱̯̖͇͕̱̭̌̿̓̀̈́͛̊̀̎͜͠ ̴̡͕̱̲̦̦͍̹̰̠̳̣͚͚̻̙̋̈́́̽̈́͐̉̈̅͘͝͝ͅn̴̨̡̫͓̬͍̣͔͇͍̬̾́͂̓̕a̵͕̟͖̭̪̤͋m̵̨͇͇̭̥̪̓̀͆͑́͊͋̀̇̌̈́̓̇̎̒͘͝ḛ̷̓̀̽͗͒̔̔͂͝͠͝ ̷̥̪̜̫̎i̸̡̨̪̦̺̳̬͒̔̔͒͒̐̈́̉̊͂̑̈́̑̏̉́͠s̸̪̲̥̜̙̯͖̱̗̖͈̤͓͒͜ ̶̭̥͉̤̊͌͜Ḑ̸̲̙̙͔̼̬͚̥̜͒̋̇͑͊͑̚͜͜à̶̡̫͍̰̳̩̺̘̯̝̤̤͚͎͇̩̐͠ǹ̴̬̹̀̑͐̈́̐͛̓̾̄͜͝͠.̴͔̃̈̔.̵̡̬͉̦̝̪͍͕̹͚̗̪͌̌.̴̧͈̟̗̰̤̻̤͖̞̫̼͈̰̀̐̔͋́̈͌̕.̴̭̮͓͚̼̺̱͙̳͇̈́̇̒̆̿̈́̀͂̕͝.̸̛̝̜̅̚̚͠.̶̢̠̭͉͆̍̃̄̑̂̚͠D̸̨̮̱̰͎̮̳̰̻̬̙̲̗͚̀̓̀́͛̈́̇̐͂̍̾̓̅́̕͝͠ͅä̷̧̛̗̦͉͚̼̳͕́̌̓̃̆͒͊̒͑͌̾̉̒́̽n̷̡̝͈̻̤͇̼͋̽̐̅̔̀͆͌͘t̸̢̯̻̻̰̻̣͕̃͂̅̽̓̂͋̌̎͘͜͠ő̶̧̮͕̦͎̟̣̫̫̰̼̾̽̂̄m̷̛̻͎̫̳̭̓̉̅͛͊͒͐͛̈́̈́͌̄͠.̷̢̣̲͉̥̥͈͔̙̞̝͇̥̘̖̈́̕.̸̢̢͚̱̠̻̮̮̺̪̪̠͐̀͒ͅͅ.̷̢̧͕̹͇͚̙͉̝̗̠͇͇͚̱̆͑̓̏̄̆̐̎͘͝͠.̷̨̢̛̱̫̳̬̬̰͍̮̫̫̫͍̺̫̀̑̾̉́̌͆̋͆̑.̶̩̭̻́̓͆̾͘”̶̢̛̰̲͎̹̱̻̣̆̐́̈́́̀̄͑̓̑͗͝ͅ     

Danny stumbled on saying his name. Like an idiot, he almost said his real name ‘Danny.’ But that would be a weird name for an alien to have. So, he ended up naming himself ‘Dantom’ a combination of his ghost and human name. Cause he couldn’t change paths once he started to say the words. Cause at least one of them could understand him and might question the stumble.

Alex Vogel perked up. “Ḭ̵̡̨̱̳̱̲͎̦̙̠̣͕͓̺̲̄͆̂̋̿̑͒̉̃͊̕͝͠͠ͅ ̴̦͍̀̓̈́̾̄̀̋̏͂̌͛͑̀́͠͠û̴͉̹̳͖̲̖̘͑̾̀̉̂̎̾́n̵̨̡̛̛͓͙̳̳̞̞͋̀́͑́̋̉͗̍̎̐̕͜d̸̠̼̜̈́͛̓́̓ě̴̛̛̺͎̮͔̣̫̟̩̥̙̟͕̟̮́̃͒̄͐̌̀́̐͌̈́̈́̚͜͠ͅŗ̷̼̬̜̗̐͜s̵̢͕̱̥̩͕̖͙̪̣̺̗̤͙͚̽̇̍̆̄̀̀̊̑ͅt̵̞̗̪̤̓̊͛̔̔̈́͌̌̍̆̚̚ͅǫ̴̛̭͍̮̰̤̪̝̫̣̗̜̹̻̙̳̂͒̎̇͌́͆͌͗͆̚̚͠͝ǫ̴̟͕̯̮͙̘̭̑̈͘d̷̢̛̞̪̝̈́͑̐͂͐̌̀̔͜͠ ̷̡͔̦̟̱͈͇̝̻̪͓̣͖̱͔͔͐͋͝ͅt̵̥̖̟̘̤͉̃̋̎̐͗̀̽ẖ̸̢̲̙̩͔̺̭̝͎̞̹̼̗̃̌̂͗͆̈́̈̐̈́͋̀͂̇̓͠ͅa̴̻͚͔͔̺͎̺͈̭͖̝͖͈̣̐͗̈́͊͐̈́͒t̸̡͍̳͙̥̝͍̙̭̺̆͂͋̈́̀̅̋̅͌͌̌͆̅͠͝!̴̨̦̤̳̬͇͈̹̪͕̩̿̄̌̈̒̐͆́͆́͘͘͜͜͠"̶̨̩͎͖͓̮̣̗̭̪̩͖̬̔̽͗̈́̕͝ͅ

“Well, what did he say?” Lewis asked.

“Yeah, I didn’t get any of that; it sounded like a musical garbage disposal,” Watney commented.

“He said his name is Dantom,” Vogel answered.

Dr. Back looked at his young alien patient in deep thought. Something about the interaction stood out as odd to him. Something that Vogel said…. about the lying…..how would the boy know to accuse him of lying if he didn’t understand…unless?

“Alight, that’s enough excitement. My patient needs rest; shoo the rest of you.” Dr. Beck declared, making a hand motion to wave the others off. “Go do something else, give us some space…... Except for you Vogel, you stay, I’ll need give you a look over anyway.”

“Alight, send me the report, and I’ll pass it along to NASA.” Commander Lewis replied.

The others looked reluctant to leave, but they complied. They couldn’t go far, though, with it being such a small space. But having the rest of the crew do other tasks would hopefully take the pressure off their young friend.

“OK, Dan, I need to change your bandages, ok?” Dr. Back said while moving to kneel in front of the kid to make eye contact.

Danny flinched back at the nickname. *OH GOD NO! Not that name…...Not…. HIM…. * Danny thought in disgust and panic. He didn’t mean to make a name so easily shortened to THAT. Danny couldn’t help but glare at Dr. Beck. It took everything in him to tell him off in English. It would help if his head weren’t so fuzzy and hurting. He kept messing up. Why was it so hard pretending to be an alien?

Dr. Back was surprised by the harsh glare. He tilted his head to the side in thought. “Oh? Don’t like Dan, do we?”

Danny looked away, trying not to engage.

Dr. Beck let out a sigh.

“OK, Dantom. I need to check on your injuries. I’m just going to unzip the jumpsuit, okay?” Beck carefully unzipped the suit, helping the kid move his arms out of the sleeves so he could assess the injuries on his back and abdomen. Beck went slow, stopping whenever the kid jerked away and looked at him with big, fearful eyes.

“It’s okay,” Beck said gently. “I’ll be quick.”

Danny couldn’t help being tense as Dr. Beck changed and looked over his injuries. He knew the procedure was necessary, but he hated being poked and prodded.  And he still hurt, and his head was pounding like a herd of elephants were having a party up there.

Danny squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered as Beck unwound the bandages from his torso. The injuries from the GIW were taking abnormally long to heal, even with his advanced half-ghost physiology.

Beck cleaned the wounds as gently as possible, but Danny still flinched at the sting.

“All done,” Beck said finally. “You’re being very brave.”

Danny couldn’t help but sag with relief after this was said.

Dr. Beck re-did the bandages and then pressed a cup of cold water into Danny’s hands. Danny greedily gulped the water down, not realizing how thirsty he was.

“Easy, easy….” Dr. Beck cautioned. “I can get you more, don’t make yourself sick.”

Dr. Beck refilled his cup and handed it to him again. “Slower this time.” He said with a stern gaze.

Danny reframed from nodding but sipped the water much slower this time.

“You sit tight; I’ll be right back.” Dr. Beck said as he left to the other side of the Hab.

Danny sipped at his water, trying to avoid eye contact with Alex Vogel. Danny knew most things about the crew. He was an avid fan. He just never dreamed he would meet them like this.

“So…..” Alex awkwardly tried to figure out how to engage the alien kid in conversation. He was dying to ask what that language was and why he could understand and speak it. “What was that back there?” Alex asked

Danny hunched his shoulders, not wanting to talk. If he talked too much in ‘ghost speak’ around Alex, the man would eventually be able to do it at will. Then he would be really screwed. *I just need time…... I need to figure out my alien story. * Danny thought. Some questions would be too hard to answer, especially now with how much pain he was in.

Danny curled up on the small cot they had given him, turning his back to Alex. He just wanted to go home.

He had to leave here, but he felt weak as a newborn kitten. For now, it seemed smarter to keep playing possum. Let them think he was just a strange alien. The less they knew about his human and ghost half, the better.

Danny buried his face against the thin pillow, feeling utterly alone. He missed his family and his friends.....were they searching for him?

A gentle hand on his shoulder made Danny flinch. He glanced up to see the doctor looking down at him kindly.

“I know you’re scared,” Beck said. “This is all strange for you. But we’ll take good care of you, I promise.”

Danny huffed and turned away again. *Take care of him? More like take him apart and study him like a lab rat. *

Beck tilts Danny’s chin up to look at him. “I promise we won’t hurt you; I don’t know who hurt you, but we aren’t them. No harm will befall you here.” Beck reassured him. His thumb moved to catch a few stray tears. Wiping them away from Danny’s eyes.

Danny pulled his head away from the Doctors hand and reached up to scrub his eyes, he felt himself blush a vibrant green. He couldn’t believe he was crying in front of them, he had to be strong not a crybaby!

“Alright….” Beck spoke. "Now, let's get you something to eat." He helped Danny sit up. 

He set down a tray of chicken broth soup and a slice of bread on Danny’s lap.

“I know it’s not much to look at since it’s all came out of a can or package, but this should be easy on you…. I hope,” Beck said.

"Go on, try some,” Beck urged. "See what you like."

Danny felt a pang of hunger, his ghost side working double time to keep him going. This food would help so much. Danny dug in, trying not to eat too fast. He tried to ignore the crew's eyes on him.

After eating, Danny felt a wave of exhaustion.

Dr. Beck removed the tray and gently patted him on the shoulder, mindful of his injuries.  “Try to get some rest. We’ll check on you in a bit.”

Danny allowed a few tears to slip free as he laid back down. He had to be strong, he reminded himself. He’d find a way out of this. He just needed time…time to recover and figure out his next move.

END NOTES (translations)

• Leave me alone! ~Danny
  You lie! Go away! Let me go! ~Danny
• "Hey! Easy! We want to help you; I promise we won't hurt you!"~ Alex
• “My name is Dan…..Dantom….”~Danny
• I understood that!"~Alex

Chapter Text

Chapter 5:

The Ares crew gathered around each other.

“Beck, did you find anything out of the ordinary for Vogel?” Melissa Lewis asked.

“He checks out, nothing out of the ordinary, I couldn’t find anything wrong or strange,” Beck answered. He had just finished doing a physical on Alex Vogel, trying to determine if anything changed from his norm. To try to find any hint as to why he could not only understand the alien language but also speak it, without even knowing he was speaking it.

“So, he just happens to be able to speak an alien language that he’s never heard before?” Beth asked in disbelief.

“Hey! I can’t help it, it just happened, I can’t control that!” Vogel spoke up, feeling a little bit attacked.

“There is nothing wrong on his end. If I were to guess, it concerns our guest, Dantom. But I think it’s something we have to ask about.” Beck replied. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed.

“Yeah, too bad we can’t just ask. The only one who can speak the language can’t do it on command!” Watney pointed out.

“Actually…... I have a theory on that…...or well, an observation.” Beck responded, drawing attention towards himself. "I think he can understand us. English, I mean. When I spoke to him, there was recognition in his eyes, like he knew what I was saying."

"What? How is that possible?" Johanssen asked incredulously. "An alien kid on Mars who understands English?"

"I know how it sounds," Beck admitted, "but I'm certain of what I saw. I think he may have some innate ability to comprehend language, to translate and understand us. And maybe there is some reason why Vogel understands and we don’t. Maybe it’s a mechanic of this ability?" Beck theorized.

Lewis furrowed her brow, considering the wild possibility. If Beck was right, it would change everything about how they approached and communicated with the kid.

As the crew erupted into excited speculation, Beck held up a hand. "Listen, this is huge, I get it. But we need to tread carefully here. The kid is traumatized, and we still have no idea what happened to him. We can't push too hard."

Vogel nodded in agreement. "Beck is right. We shouldn’t push too hard."

Beck lingered by the bedside of Dantom, his gaze fixed on the slumbering alien child. The gentle rise and fall of the boy's chest offered a small measure of reassurance, but Beck's mind continued to race with unanswered questions. He pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward, studying the kid's face for any signs of distress.

"What happened to you out there?" Beck whispered.

The boy's eyelids fluttered briefly, and for a moment, Beck thought he might wake. But the kid shifted slightly, his head lolling to the side as he settled back into a deep sleep.

Beck sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew he needed to be patient, to give the kid time to heal and recover, but the urge to unravel the mystery was almost overwhelming.

He reached out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from the boy's forehead. The kid's skin was cold to the touch, a reminder of his otherness. The cold temperature seemed to be the kid’s norm.

Beck turned as Alex pulled up a stool next to him. "I need you to stay with him, Alex. Keep an eye on his vitals and let me know immediately if there's any change."

Alex nodded, his eyes flickering between Beck and the sleeping child. "Of course, Doc. I won't leave his side."

"Good." Beck placed a hand on Alex's shoulder, a gesture of trust and camaraderie. "I need to send off a report to NASA."

****

Danny woke slowly, blinking against the bright lights of the hab. He stretched and winced as his injuries protested. He became acutely aware of the pain from his injuries. His healing powers were failing him, leaving him weak and vulnerable. He knew he had to rely on these astronauts for his survival, but the idea of revealing his half-human, half-ghost nature terrified him.

*I’ll keep pretending I’m an alien…. that’s what they think….so I might as well roll with that.* Danny thought to himself. * I have to figure out a solid backstory…... I can’t tell them about ghosts. But I can stick with ghost speak. That should work as an alien language* Danny frowned to himself as he was drawn deep in thought. *Ew, but I might have to explain it to them cause Mr. Vogel can understand it. I’ll bend the truth a little; that’s not really lying. *

Danny was interrupted from his thoughts by Dr. Chris Beck. The man had noticed him stirring.

"Okay, buddy," said Dr. Chris Beck gently, approaching Danny with a tray of medical supplies. "I’m just going to check on your wounds for you.”

The moment he saw the doctor's instruments, Danny recoiled, pressing himself further into the corner of the bed. Memories of the GIW's torturous experiments flooded his mind, and he clenched his fists, fighting back tears.

"Easy, easy," Dr. Beck cooed, sounding as non-threatening as possible. "I promise, we're only here to help you……Vogel, get in here."

The German chemist approached brow furrowed. "What is it?"

"I need you to try communicating with Dantom again, see if you can get through to him that I'm only trying to help." Beck knew it was a long shot since Vogel had only been able to mimic the alien language so far, not initiate it. But he had to try everything.

Vogel leaned in close to Dantom and opened his mouth, then hesitated. A look of concentration passed over his face. Then, to Beck's amazement, strange melodic syllables poured from Vogel's mouth, the same eerie language Dantom had used.

Į̸͚͕̻̥̫̥̙̭͈̜̪͚̱̭̠̽̓̑̊͋̎͗͆t̵̼̼̮͕̭͈̖̤̰͉͌̋̎́̅͗̿͜͝ͅ'̶̡̘̰̰̜͈̳̈́̂̂̓͑̇̒̀͘ͅs̸̞̹̯̫̠̥͔̫̽̓͑ ̵̭̹̺͈̞̟̜͇̘̜̼̈́̐̆̈́̿́̑̂͜͝͝ͅó̶̖̻͎̻̆͒͋̾͊̇̏̂̌͘̚͝k̴̡̨̡̛̠̻̦̬͉̪̻̺̯̫͇̩͇̓̌́̈͂͛͆͠a̵̡̢̢̡̛̖̟͍̞̍̂̓̈̌͜͠ẙ̷̼̐̓̊,̶͈́̓͗̏̊́̎̔̓͑̿̉̕͝ ̵̟̭̤̎͐̍̎̽̅̑͗̔͋͋̔k̸̯͖͂̀̿̾̀̂̄̽̃͠i̷̧̡̳͍̙̫̝̙͚͕̠̲̯͍͐̂̎d̵̙̭͙͇̳̠͉͎̀́̂̈́̂͒̍̊̄̕̕͝͠,̵̡͈̼̫̫̣̖̤͙̿̒̊̾̊̽͂̈͗̓̾̅͑̽̚͠͠"̷͍̬͓̩̱̗̖̳̳̠̜̭͌͑̅̒̏́̀͌͂̂̚͝͝ͅ ̴̼̹͈͋́  Vogel said in the alien tongue. "̶̨̛̛̙̝̳̬̙̋̽͛̉̇̕[̶̨̨̭̜͚̞̤̜̯͕̓̕T̶̛̛̗̳̘̳̮̙̟̓̂̊̒͒́́̃̆̂̕̕ͅh̶̨̺̣̰̻̼̤̭̪̺͙̹̻̆͋̍̓̉̇̇̈́̽̑̿̑̾̓͌͠͝ͅe̶̢̛̩̺̭͔͍̘̬͚̟͓̤͒̏̀̉̒̏̀ ̴̩̺͎̤̊̊̏̀̇͜ḋ̷̡͙͕͙̠̩͇͎̼̼̫̗͔̮̆̆̄͗̊͆̉̔͒̿̾͘̚͜o̴̝̘̲̳̳͌͠ċ̸̦̳͍͊͂̓̃͛̿̀̿͆̿̂́̍̎͝ ̴̖̪͚̲͓̯̞͌̃͗͒j̶̢̢̩̰͇͖͖̼̞̜̯̩͕̭̊͜ͅȗ̸͕͔̝̥̙̜̟̓̄̓̿͝s̶̟̬̆̄̔̐̒͌̑̒t̶̨̨̯͇̳̱͎̅̉̽͗͒͝ ̵̡̢̖͉͎͚̥̻̲̈́̃̈̍̿͠n̴̨̜̻̼̱̦̗̥͖̽̿͌̽̈͌̂͋̿͛̉̕͠ȩ̴̭̘̘̰̰̪̮͎̿͛̀͘̚͘̕ͅȅ̵͓̰̟͎̣̩̱̜͙̞̘̦̖͕̖̓̍͑̃͛̒̓̂̓̏̚͠d̸̢̰͙͙̞͈͉̲̗̤̟̰̯̖̥͒̉̑̚͜s̵̨̧̹̱̠̳̬̗̖̯̲̤̱͈̈́͆͘ ̶̢͖̳̬͇̋̍̐̄͋̐̄̽̅̐̾̃̕̚͠ţ̵̠̲̮̼̙̯̝͎̝̯̝̈́̎̽͗͆̇ȍ̵̧̤̣͈̥̝̈́̏̀͌̓͂͑͘͜͠ ̵̜̱̺̩̜̬̗̣̩͎̺̮̍̽̾̀̈́̅̎͂̕̚ͅt̸̨̡̡̢̛͈̠̪̦̪͈̬̤̤̤͚͔͇͗͌͌͑̄͘å̶̡̡̨͇̱̳̬̦̗̪͚̙͇̫̖͙̅̍̾͊̃͘͝ǩ̴̡̨̡̥̮̼̮͎̲̖̱̖̤̼̱͍̐ë̶̢̺̼̞̝̖̣̜̦́̈́̂͑̿̀͐̈́͑̔̃̾̚͝ ̴̻̋̈̂̀̈́̾͑͘a̶̪̟͆̀͋̃ ̸̡̱͇͚̖̭̠̹̎̆ͅl̸̢̮̱͂̌̈͒̆̄̓͗͘͝͠ò̷̡̜̩͖͎̭͎̘̯̟̱̄̋̍̆̄͝ͅo̷̡̳̝̘̖̘̫̠̙̩̯̭̩̊̀̂̑̈́̀̎͐̽͛͑̉͠͝ķ̶̭̣̦͇̠̊͆̽̐́͌͌͑̽̿͐͋̍̑̇̅͝ ̵̯̖͍̖̫̲̪͓͇̩̘̫̐ǎ̸̧̧̹̘̪̱̪͙̣̰̘͇̦̘͙̋̉̀͗̒͗̓͝t̴̞͇͓̥͇͇̞͌͂͒̀̒͒̈́̐̀̎̋̕̚̚ ̷̯̰̖̞̈́̅͋y̷̢̛͔͕̳͈͍̤̱̰͒̈́͂͋͐̔̿͛͒̀̄͝ơ̸̢̧͈̰̙͕̰̔̇̀̀ų̵̛̜̫͈̙̤͙̰͍̲̖̺̋̎̄̿̒͜,̷͖̲̼̰̦̎͆͛͊͐̐̾̀͊̿̃̒̂̊͛̃ ̷̫̖̼̫̽̒̏̽̐ḽ̴͉̜̬̫̝̥̱͕̪̪̝̜̘͒̃̃̀͒̈́̓͗̀̈́͋͋̑͌̃̃͠ī̷̧̘̫͖̺̥̦̱̠̦͓̖̣͙͖͐͜͠k̸̢̧̛͔͓̮̻͇̗͇̖͙̩̟̎̍͋́̍̎͒͛̌͋ͅͅe̸̳͍̖̥͍̻̮̞̖͙̱͒͌̽͑͑̃͝ ̵̣̖̟̤̜̠͓̪̌̍l̸͓̱̼̞̩͇̹̬͂̅͊ā̴̟͎̩͉̳̭̥͕̥͐̓̌́̀ͅs̴̛̹̝͇̦̣̟̙͋̿̈́̔̔͠t̷̙͇̹͔̟̍͛͛́̓͌̐̀̑͋ͅ ̷̢̢͙͖̝̲͎͙͎̜͕̱̣̯̭̤̄̍͌̈́́͛̎̀͗̐̕͠n̶̨̧̮̻̗͉̘̰͓̗̓ĭ̵̡̛̲͖̲͇͚͖͖͔̲͈̦̫̱̙̜̳͊̏͗̓͛̇̒̆̇̂̚̚͠͠g̸̹̪̽͊̂̀́̉̔͘ḥ̵̡̡̨̟̳͚͎̖͍͕̳͔̪̳̈́̉͋̈́̌̊̽̌̚͝ͅṯ̸̹̺̣̫̋.̴̢̧̛̺̞͓̗̻̘̪̰͙͈̈́̋̍͊́͐͘̕͝ ̵̡̡̲̫̹̬̓͊̚͝N̸̛̤̳͖̜̬͉͈͕̫̳̹͎͌͗̒͛͂͗̏͊̊͜͝ơ̷̢͖̠̲̱̜̤̞̺̤̾͛̇̆̿̊͂̌̅͑t̶̡̳͔̼̺̰̦̉̏̽h̷̡̤̖̫̣͕͕͕̘̍̆͛̍̀̏̿̂́̈́̍͘͝ͅį̶̢̻̺̠͕͚̣̳̟̙̬̾̀̓̈̿̄̉̀̕͜n̶̢̛̹̱̰̩̻̰͓̲̬̥̬̓́͒̄͛̿̋̇̆̀̈́̈́̀̕͝ģ̸̡̬̝̘͕̰̹͈͎̗͓̟̟̳͎̾̍̀͗̎̐̃̈́͌̐̉̏͘ ̶̨̤̙̤̝͓̪̣̰̪̳̫͔̗̎̈́̃̚͝ͅͅt̸̢̧͇͉͕̘̪͕͈̻͚͕͈͌͋̌́͌̾̉͌̄̈́̽ǫ̶̡̩̫̫̰̟̬̤̱̙̥̹͖̤̈́̕ ̵̢̣̩̝͍̾̎̉̈́̀͛̂̿̃̿̀̕b̴̨̛̼̱͕̙̰̩̪̜̥̞̟̱̦͂̿̀́ͅë̴̠̙͍͔͚̣͖̰́̏͆̕ͅ ̵̧̢̝̺̈́̾͘͘͘͝a̷̤̻̙͇͐͛̓̂̚͠f̸̡̢̨̬̘̳̝͍͓̙̖̯̱̀̇͘ṙ̷̢̙͓̪̠̥̟̗̣̭̮̼̳̗́̀̓̕͘a̸̖̝̘̟̮̬̗̣͋̆͆̄̏͘͜i̶̢̛̻̗̥̯͙̺͚̤̝͂̍̾̉͛͆̐͒̑͆̈́̅̅͠͝d̷̗͈͇̉͒̅̄́͊̒͋̄ ̷͙̥͉͚̩̭͉͉͑̃̿̆̾̂̐̅̾̓̋̅̋̅̿͜͠͝o̸̡̧̞̱̝͔̩͙̼̼͕̖̞̭͑̓̂͒̉͋̍̄͛̓̕f̵̧͙͔̘͖̙͎̫̱̙̘̖̓̓͂͊̅͜.̵̡͙̤̖̳̫̜͈̖̭̪̩͖͇̻͍̇̐͌̐̃̈́̿̉͑̈́̌͗̀̓̉͗͜]̸̛̛͉̹̼̒̌́͛̽̍̈́̓̈̇͊̆͗́͝"̶̧̩͔̼͓̳̻̳͔̣͕̄̏̔͋̑̒͋̆̿͘̕͠ͅ

Danny blinked, surprised. Beck raised an eyebrow, equally taken aback.

Vogel grinned, switching back to English. "I did it! I can control it now!" His eyes sparkled with excitement and pride.

"Well, I'll be damned." Beck sat back on his heels, shaking his head in wonder. "Guess we've got ourselves a translator now, huh? All right, let's do this."

As Beck resumed checking over the kids’ injuries, his mind raced with the implications of this breakthrough.

Vogel hovered nearby, occasionally uttering soothing words to Dantom in the alien tongue.

Danny fought to keep his expression neutral as Beck finished checking him over. Inside, dread pooled in his stomach. He'd hoped to limit communication, to keep his cards close to his chest. But now with Vogel able to engage him in conversation at any time...

*Fenton luck strikes again, * Danny thought bitterly. Staying in character as "Dantom the Alien" just got a whole lot harder. One slip of the tongue could expose his secret and land him in even worse trouble.

As if reading his mind, Vogel spoke up in Ghost Speak.

"̷̘͉̙̕Ï̷͇͍͑̈́ ̶̮̈̅a̸͔̠̘̋m̵̡̪͍͗͑͘ ̶͕̘͋̇̄c̸̠̏u̷̘̲̇r̶͙̈́i̶̢̙͗ō̶͔̙̫u̶̙͋̊͝s̸͖̮͌,̷̥̏ ̷̜͖̉̑D̵̬̱͝á̸̪n̵̨͇̼̎ẗ̷͍́̿ŏ̷̧̢̱m̸̹̥͠.̵̞̟̺̄ ̶̢̝̀H̷̝̅o̷̦̐̈w̶͔͎̮̅̉̂ ̷̥̳͇̈́̄̉î̶̠̯͓̉s̸̞̜͋͂ ̷̨̛̳̒̀i̵̪͔͊̏͘ṭ̵͂ ̸͚̜̰̀t̸̟̩̜͐̊̕h̷͔̉å̸̰t̸̪͕̍͐ ̸̨͖͗̈́I̸̼̰̅͋ ̸͖̳̟̾͠c̸͈͗̎ą̴̯̿ͅṉ̴̀ ̴̰̽͜s̷̛̬̥̐u̵͖̽͒ḑ̴̨̭̒̉̓d̷͓͆͛e̸̙̋͋͗n̸̲̈́̚͝l̴͎̳̒͜ỵ̶̓̍ ̶͉̼̏̇͒ų̵̩͔̇n̶̼̳̤͠d̸͖̳͔̽̃͑ę̸̰̏r̶̡̫̥͋̿͑s̷͗̿͗͜t̸̡̪̺̋a̶͇̜̹͌̅ń̶̲d̷̜̲̽ ̷̖́ȧ̴̬͖̚n̵̨̺͍͌͝d̸̰͉̩͆̂ ̸͖̣̔̈̂s̴͇͇̀p̷̟͋ē̵͎͠ạ̸̢̛k̵̻̀͛ ̴͕̻̔̐͌ẗ̷͚̮̟́͘͝h̸͙̼̒i̶̢̤̪͐s̸͉̼̃ ̴̟͓̦͛ḽ̸̪͠ǎ̸̪n̵̹̗̙͊̽͘ġ̴͚̫u̵̠̻͛̆a̸̼̮̞͂̅g̴̹̙̉̓͝ë̸̳̮́?̷̛̻̭͐̀ ̵̢͎̅̚I̷̼̹̹͛́̕ṡ̶̘̭̠ ̸͍́̓̆ͅͅi̶̬̊ͅt̵̬̺̦̿ ̵̨̢̦͗c̵̰̀͌̿o̸̧̳͆̏͑m̴̩̙̣̀ṃ̴̡̖͊ǒ̵͔́͊ň̶̩ ̷̣̜́͗̉f̵̰̎́͜ò̵̧̧̩̓͛r̶̼͑̿̎ ̵̬̔̆̓y̵̘͔͐ỏ̶͕̬̚u̸̡̟̇̆̌r̷̜̖̔̾̔ͅ ̷̜̀͝͝k̴̦͗i̵̙͒n̵̳̯͉̚̚ḋ̸̼̬͝ ̷̡̧̙̏͐t̶̺̦̟̂̾ŏ̷̥͎̊͝ ̸̱̑̓͘s̶͖͎̀̅͗ḩ̷͇͙̽̈́a̸̠̬͈̎͊ŗ̵̈́̂e̵̥̮̱͆̕ ̵̦̣͋t̶͚͉̩̂͝h̶̲̼͇͋ǐ̴̠̬̼s̸͖̱̮̈́ ̸̨̻̓͂͆ă̸̦͕̻̓b̷̊͌̂͜i̵͈̹͌͊ḷ̸̀i̷̹̣̊t̵̳̜͐̿y̸̘̞̒?̷̼͉̿"̵̗̥̥̒͑̋

Danny hesitated, mind spinning to concoct a plausible explanation. "̸͉̣̗̖̈́͊́͒̈́̀͑́̒͒̊̍̍͘̕͝I̴̛̱̳̗͙͍͕͉̫̾͌̋̀̾͋̉t̸̳̰̹̬͓͉̮̭͓̫̯̹͖̫̑'̶̨̛͙͎͈͙̭̩̲́̍̓͂͗͋͗̏͆s̷̡͈̜̖̣̗̳̭̠͈̔́̈́̃̀͛̈́̃͛̇͌͐.̸̨͕̟̜̭͙̤̮͚̓̆́͐̒̅͗̈́.̶̢̙̾͑͆͑̋͐̚.̶̬̟͎̟̤̳̰̅̂̀̓̆̈́̇̈́̓̈́̒̈́͂̚͘b̶̢͍̝͖́̊̂̊̓a̸̮̯̻̣͛̄̍͌̿͑͜s̶͓̩͓̙̃̇́̓͆̄̈̔̇̊̆̇̔̑͑͊̚i̷̥͚͕̪̪̟̳̘̣̱͓͍͉͚̫͖̎͜c̸̠̊̌̀̏̂̆͘͝ằ̴̢̡̨̛̭̯̝̐́̑̿̄̕l̷̡̼̩̼̠͔̹̹̙̬͗̎̾̀͊͑̅͋͑͝l̸̢̜͎͕̻̼͛̒͆͐͋͂͆͛̂̉̔̽̑͘͘̚y̷̛̲͍̗̖̲͖̝̘̳̬͉̝̙̣̫͜ ̵̬̣̯̯̤̄̅̽͌́̆̉͗͘̚t̸̙̀̋̌̃͑͊̔͌͘͠͝h̵͕̿͋̂̎̇̒̑ẻ̸͍͔̥̞̊͋͐̎̓͂͊̔̓̽͝ ̷̨̧̢̬͕͚͉͈͊̂̂͒̐̒̄̌́͆̈́̏̎͘̕͜ļ̸̲̱͔̟̙̰̳̭̠͉͖̌ḁ̶̫̪̗͓͉͔̮̱̫͎̥̑͆͑̀͗̅̔͑̍̔͛̍̑̎̾͘͝ṅ̷̼͓̻͉͚̽͒̊͘̚ǧ̸̟̻̻̼̩͖̝̣̐͌̍̊̆̔̕͘͠͠ǘ̷͕̒̇̿̿͠a̷̗̱͖̠̥̋̂͑̿̽̓͋̈́̉̔̌̉̆̿g̷͔̏͛͌́́̈̇̃͊e̷̯̳̖̣̮̬̣̓̒̇̍̀͠ ̶̧̢̞̤͍͙̝̘͓͓̠̞̼̦̎͛͌̎̓̽̅̾̆̌͘͜ơ̷̞̩̦̱̥̤͕͙̣̲̽̓̇́̅̏̿́̅̎̅̕͜f̵̮̦͔̞̝̺̖͇̂̓̅͜ ̷͙͐̃͒t̷̬̱͎̔̓͑̄͐́̎̓̄̔̑̀̅̀̋̂̕h̷͉͓̖̺̳̱̺̼̣̘̯͎͓̫́͗̎̍̆̾͠ͅę̸̡̨͓̼̞͚͍̘̮̘͚͍̰̩͚̈́͋ ̴̢͓̱͉̜̭͔́̓̽͋̑̍́͜͝s̵̡̛̤̤̹͚͕̻̯̻̩̯͈̘̘̹͋͑͛̀̀͋̊̃͌̏͌̇̀ͅơ̶̘͇̘͔͜ŭ̸̡͈̬̼̰̙̺̝̜̱̲͔̿̀̾͛͋̑͋͗̀͒̑́͐̈́͝l̵̠̠̪̼͍̥̪̝͓̹̱̻̑̔̈,̸̢̝̬̼̗̄̋̾ͅ"̷̥͚̦͗̚͠

he said slowly.

.̴̭̮̲̺̗͓̦̲͔̠̰̮̫̜̦̺͔͊̀́̉̆͛̆͑͝ ̴͕̳̱̩͇̦̗̣̋̊̈́̽͗͌́"̸̱̹̟̩̯̱͕͇̥̳́̇̋̾̓́̓́͌͌͛͛͘͘͝A̵̙͈̫̪̱̮͚̹͙̩̍͋̔͂̃͝ͅl̵̰̻̭͎̖̼͍̤̹̳̳͎̝̀͊̓̇̾̎͊͊̎̚̕͜͜l̵͓̟̟̣̝͇̟̙̠̜̂̌̃̈̔̊̀͠ ̴̡̝̖̠̝͕͙̤̯̮͕̮͖͐̏̅̏̐̈́̑̐̓̈́̏̿̚͠͝l̴̢̺͎̙͍͔͍̟̳̤͉͕͋ͅï̵̧̧̢̢̧̛͉͎̭͉̳̻̣͙̠͙̙̚͠ͅf̸̧̖̯͕̰̙̘͕̲͔͚͒͒̈́̽͌͋̈̃̀̆̓̎͗e̵̡̡̥̦̪͍͕̩̙̠̼̠̽͊̏̄͑̆̉́̓̃̋̀̍̑̿̚̚ ̵̛͇̜̭̻̀͂̄͌͋̊̿̔̃̾̅̽̔̚ų̸̧̞͇͓̦͈̬̝̖͇͉̫͖͇̓͝n̴̨̛͚͙̈́̎͐́̓͌͋̓̓̏̎͐͝͝ͅḑ̶̣̰̓̈͑̇̈́͗̊̎͘e̵̛̟̦̱̜̫̥̱͇̝̦͕̖̭͕̓͐̈́̐̀͐͐͒̍͑̊̔r̵̨̨͉͖͔̭̫̻͇̍̔s̸͔̹̙͍̱͖̗̞̰̽̍̀̑̀́̇̀̉̾͜͝ͅţ̵̢̟̙̼̥̯̙̰̗͔̪̲̜̋͛́̄͗͛͑̏̌̿̓͗͘̕͜͝a̶̬̻̻̤̝̙̙̟͉̠͉͉͈̝̯̽̋͗ǹ̷͍̗̳̮̬̱͍̳̊̉̊̌͋̂̃̾͘d̶̬̪͈́̃̌͝s̵̡̢̱͙̬̺̝̥̈́́́̂̔̍̂͂̀̍̕͠ͅ ̶̲̹̋͛̿̅́͊͠ḯ̶̧͙̙̰͎̼̰̪̦̲̝̔̉͝t̸̲̎̄͂́̑͌͘͝ ̸̨̨̪̝̗͈̮̱̹͔̱͔̭̟͖͓̇̑͊̕͜d̴̢̧͓͙͚͓̐̓̃̑̀ë̶̠̟͎̮̭̗́͋̉̿͐̈́̈́̈́̓̓͆͒͝e̴̳̿̉̆͗͌̇̾̒͑̈́̈́̚p̷̲̬̘̜̳͆͛̅̊̇̎̆̒̕͝͝͝͠ ̸̧̛̫̘͓̪͙̗͎̝͋͆̅̃̑͒̇͗͂͊̾̃̂̀d̷̢̛̪̥̳͚͇͖̖̬̣̜̯̞̀̃̄͆͂̄̓͝o̴̢̪͖͖̳̯̦̜̝̳͕̥͈̩̳̖͂̊̃̄ͅẅ̸̢̻͉͎͉̬̭͎͓̱͇̗́̉̉̃̊͗̾̏̀̐͑͠ǹ̶̪.̶͍͉̗̟̙͙̝̭͍̂̽̿̍͋̚ ̴̢̢̧̠̰͍̝̳̖̹̩̻̭̔̑̒̓̈́̇͂̿̓͗̚͜ͅM̴̫̌̃͊ō̵͙̠͔͍̜͒̑͛́͗̀́̆s̶̢̻̯̜̣̖̖̝͑͋͆t̵̗̺̩̝͚̼̩͍͎̥̅͊̂̒͌̄͋̂̓̕ ̶̛̞̺͓͈̜̙͗́̈́̈́̀̍̆̈́̏͛̾̚j̸̧̢̼͉̖͎̣͇̲͓͇̰̩͖̞͉͋͛͜͠u̶̢̢̱͎͚͚̣̼̘̙̗̳̼͐͂̈́͆̉̈́͋͂̈́̾̈̑̃̎̑͝ͅͅs̸̡̢̨̙̗̼̺̪̺̗̼͇̗͎̹̮̀̈ţ̵̧͈̳̟͓̥̤̱̟̻̹̋̈ ̴̡̛̮͕̠͉͇̬͕̘͙̌̀͑̆̃̃̂͒̊͛̚a̴̛͈͔̯̽͋r̶͉̙̯̩̈́̎̾̄̎̊͆̔̽̉̽͝͠e̵͈̪̜͚̽̓̊̿ņ̵̨̘̻̫̲̙͉͓̠̠̮͈̝̤̙̌̀͋̓̇̑͊̂͊̈́̈́̽̚͜͝'̶̞͇͉͓̼̤̬̩̠͉͔̮̼͇͚̜̍t̷̰̫̩̦̥͒̏̈́̆̓̌̊̈͒̂̽̌̚͝ ̷̧̛̱̟̠̬̥̜̓̈́̎̔́̈́̋͛̓̀̏c̸̡̡̛̦͍̻̪̖͔͓̼̞̅̈́̏͒̂̒̄̿͐̈́͊̿̕͠ő̵̢̧͍͖̬̙͉̯͕̱̗̳̈͐͆́̐͋̚͘͠n̶̢̧͍̰͕͎͈̪̦̥̱̞̼̎̅̓͒̄̇̉̿̿͜n̶̨̤̘̺̝̖̘̰̯̯͓̳͈̟̯͙̤̏̅̏̉̈̂͗̈́̊̈̽̍̚̕̕͝͝ę̷̧̻̬̬͖̩͕͖̺̬͈̹̼̈́͝ͅç̷̼̹̗͚͓̊͆̀̀͘͜t̷͎͉͎̜̼̹̓͗̔͒̾͘͝e̸̡͎̗̠͍̻̒d̶͉̻͈̺̻͆͗͆̅͒͊̉̐̔̊͊̉̑͝ͅ ̶̲̹͇͓̫͈͖̝̲̤̈́̎̑͗͝ë̸̬͕̝́͒̂̏̔̆̊͑͘͘͘͝n̶̨̨̢̢̧̧̼̻̰̭̮̝͈͚͇̊̎ͅǫ̶̢̡̢̱̗̻̰̹̰̺̪̘̻͕̲̌̀̓̐̿͒͐̆̉̇͒̚͘͠ų̷̨̧̛̛̭̱͍̟̰̠̥̻̹͚̰͋̍̀̆̏̐̚͜ͅg̵̛̱͍̱̼̲̠͚̝̹͍̖͈̈́̈͆̍́͊͛̀͆̏͆̐͗̍͜͜h̸̡͔̫̝͓̞̺̰̙͓͔̣̞͕̪̙̤̊ ̴͈̰̎͒̄̐̉͑͗̎̅͌͐̕͜t̵̙̙̝̚o̴̡̱͙͓̜͎͊͛̕͝ ̷̡̖̣̳̤̠̱̬͖̞̫͓̳̆͊͐̓̌̉̈͒̇̎̿̚͘͠t̸̢̰̣͇̺͝ḧ̵͍͉̋͊̀̕͠ĕ̶̢͎̬̯̲̮͔̹̖͍͎̦̻͍̺̀̍̂͐͐̏͑̽͌́͛̈́̈̚̚͜ȉ̷̧̝̜̫̺̫̆ŗ̸̨͍̳͕̜̲̯̞̳̥̟͖̩̦͂́͘̕ ̷̢̧̧̦̦̜͓̲̠̹̝̯͓̣̹͙̐̽͑̔͋͗̐̚̕ş̵̞͉̝͖͔̫̫̪̙͍̺͖̻̟͆̽̏͂͗̏͗͠o̷̫̦̠͍̭̭͖̭̼͚̠̠̅̈́̃͗́̈́ͅų̷͔͍͎̬̘̥͍̦̭̅̅l̵̨̢̬̮̫̄͛̔͆͐͂̑̄͛̎̑̄̚͘͠ ̴̧̡̛͙̤̤̻̟̹̫̦̯͋̏̉́̔͋̋̄̓͊̋͒͜͠t̷̹̹̠̥̀̒͋̍͜ȭ̵̮̮͙̰̖͈̹͐̅͑̀͘̕̕͠͝ ̵̢̨̛̛̯̯̭̖̼̫͓̣͒̒͋̆̈́̚͘͠ā̷̛̟̂̓̀̔̾͌̑̆̏̆̇́̎̚͝ç̵̡͕̘͔̭͈̝͓͎̗̋̀̀̒͝c̸̢̨̗͎̲̩̝̦̪͌̐̍̔̏͑̐̎̒̓̃̈́̀̈́̚͜e̶̡͕͍͎̅̑͗͂̈͌̀͝s̷̨̱̜͈̼̙͚͍͖̣͉̦̳̖̖̈̀̍̉͐͊͘s̴͈͓̞̥̓̓͂̇ ̸̢͇̖̙̙̹̈́ì̶̻͕̻͜͠t̴̨̩͓̼̠̰̩̀̈́̄̌̈́̔͗͊͛͊͒̍̅̃̃.̶̢̢͍͎̖̥͙͖͔̯̂͂̍̓̒̍̈́̊͛̑͜"̴̡̬̩̬̤͙̯̳̜̩̬͐͂̋̾ͅ

Vogel's brow furrowed.

"̵̡̛̛̰̲͓͖͎̺̬̤͚̘̺̬̑̾̍̒͆̈́̑̅̂̄͐͗̍̈́̚ͅĆ̵̮͎͈͖̳̙̟̣̮̐͌̋̾̈́͜͝ơ̶̧̧̡̭̩̩̗͓̗̮̱͓̳̎̆̄̊͒̍̎̂̓̕ņ̶̰͇̎́͌̾̎̆̐̊̕n̷͙̘̥͔̣̍̌̅̓̑̌̉̔̊̄̆̀̕ë̴̯̲̟̖̩́̓́̒̀̓̔̏̿͝͠c̶̡̞̳̣̍̔ͅt̷̤͍̟̣͖̓͑͂ͅe̵̬̖͕̖̞͓̠͔͎̰̥͌͊͊́̿͠͠d̶̨̡̢͖̠̜͉̭̻̗̠͖̞͍͊̒͜͠ ̵̜͙̥͕̯̍̀̊̓̑̃͗͘̕͝t̴̫̮͋͑̉̚͝͝ǫ̴̯̝̪͑̈́͋̓̊̓̏̂͗̅̅ ̶̣̩̻̋̌̏́͗̏̈̂ơ̴̡̢͓̫͈͕̪͇̣̪̟̙̪̎̀̅̽͋̄̀͋͊̈́̊̕̕̚͜u̷̪͂͌̒͗̂̇͠r̶̨̧̺̤̙̘͓̫̳̭̗͙͎̈̌̑̂́̿ͅ ̴̦̰̻̘͔̙̲̲̭͙̝̦̀̌s̸̢̮̦̩̭͕̮͇͐̄̃͋̽̈́͊̔̈́̅̿̊̍̽̚͘͝ͅo̴̧̨̧̱͕̹̰̼̹͉̱̯̘͗̇͋͛̍̾̓̉̏̚͘ͅu̵̡̢̖̘͓̤̗̣̺͔̖̽̇̕͝l̸̡̡̛͍̥̣̰̺̞̮̗̟̜͓̭͖̳̫̀̄̑̀͂͑̒͌̑̂̀̄̽͛͛̂s̸̋͋̋͛͂͆̇͜͠?̷̧̢̦͇͈͖̥̏͛͒̌̓͊͋̀͐̀̄͝ ̶̛̣͍̪̭̻͙͎̻͚̖̥̦̯̹͎̈͑̓͐̓́̽͂̓̈́͜͝͝Ĭ̸̢̨̩̬̮̖̠͙̩̦̈́̉̃̀̽̆̐͗̍̊́̆͝'̶̡̬͍̱͚̮̜̇̏̑̔̏͑̃̎͒̐͛̐ͅm̴̢̛͖͍͓͚͔̪̫̦̟̈́͆͋͂̐̒͆͗̐̈̿͘͝͝͝ͅ ̷̧̞̗͂̿̿͒͌͑͠͠n̸̛͙͚̯̣̻̪̲̼̰̟̰̘̱̗̰̂͗̓͘̚o̴̪̞̜̻̪͗̏̀̅̾͂̏̃͛̀̆̓̕ ̸̢̱̰̹̠̗̲̀̓̏̄s̷̡̛͕̪͎̖̖͗̀̑̆̄͑̕ͅp̷̧̡̡͕̫͓̜̠̜̟̿̒̿̅̓̂͋͌̚͜i̶̢̦̤̘̮͔͖̹̟̖͘r̶̤̲͆̿̏̀̔̆̒̀̾͝͠į̵̨̼̱̥̠͍͓̗̭̪̇̈́̃̋̏̈́̅̿̓̄̉̐͠t̸̡̢̯̦͎͉̦͖̣̹̣̏͑̑͘̕ű̶̧̻͕̹̺̹͈̤̣̋̽̃͊͐͜â̷̫͎̱͕̳͚͉͓̦̈̂̅̾̃̒͗̚͜͠͠l̸̢̧̢̛̠͚͙̮̭̰̰͈̣̟̗̼̞̍̍ͅ ̴̦͚̮͈͍̻͖͖̠̯͈̐̑͊͛͛̓̈́̈́̇̋͗͆̌͆͜͜g̵͈̓͐̄͝͠u̸͚̣̦̗͙̭̹̬͙͎͚͛̎̈́̆͐́̍̃̑ŗ̶̟̻͔̬̟̮͇̥̼͗͗̍̌ͅͅǔ̵̧̦͈̖̭̲̈́̈̍͊̇̈́͑̋̑̔͘̕͠͝.̸͔̘͕̣̣̈́̒̏̔̐̂͋̈́̏̈́̈́͗͝ ̶̧̨̡̨̨̢̙͙̬̲̖̳̖̜̙͓̱́́͛̈̑̈́͝I̶̗̹̗̥̘̘̲͙̘̣̫̎͛͌̍́̃͛͛̋̈͐̆̉̕͝ ̶͙̘̲̉͌̀̽́̆̍̈́̎͛̂̚͘͝͠d̵̛̳̟̥̊̏̀͌̏͂͘̕o̴̺͙͊̾̈͑͂̇n̷̛̛̥̘͎̪͓̤͑͆͂̾̓̆̿̌͐̓̚͝'̵̡͍̥̣̤͖̜̫͈͚̝̥̭̿̚ť̴̨̒̀̿̀̇̄̌̕͝ ̵̢̤̠̝͈̯͕̫̮͉̹̞͈͙̦͈̈́̌͌̐̓͗̆̾͊̈̕m̴̗̯̹̯̞̰̗̺̤̟͚͔̥̺͍͂̅̓͐̎̓̽͘e̴̡̢̥͉͉̳̯͙͚͐̑̐͊͆̓̔͠ͅd̵̦̮̰͐͐́̔̐͝i̷̢̡̢̘̘̣͙͓͍̪̳̬̯̪̞̪̦͒͂̓͋̐͊̏̐ţ̸̧̯̠̟̠̯͔̤̯͔̟̏̐͌͜ͅͅa̸̧̢̛̦̲̮͎̪̭̩͍͕͖͕̙̙̺t̸͙̥̟̮̤̩̼̫̪̹̦͆̎̋̋̂͒̀̔̒̇̃͊̽̚e̸̡̡̨̨̡̗̼̪̮̞̺̗̣͇̝̫͐́̀̏͛̅́́̒̄͒̈́̈́͐̉͘ͅ ̸̡͎͕͍̰̻̭̦͉̯̳͈̇̈́̏̎̎͛̀̿͂̈́ǫ̴̨̧̡̧͇̠̝͓̙͌̓̑̔r̴̢̢̡̢̳̘͔̹̱̬͙̠̦͍̺̒̾̈̏́͜ͅ ̵̝̬̣͕̖̠̲̖̣̠͙̭͚͇̪̀̒̔͐̓̉̚̕ͅͅḁ̴̼̐̈͋͂̇̃̌͒́̋̊͌̏n̶̗̻̭̺̜̝͙̻͕̬̺̈́ͅy̸̧̢̳͉̣̞̹͕̭̞͍̲̭̱̗͇̲̎́̓̓̈́̍́͂͌̎̎͗͝͝t̸̢̼͇̰͖̮̤͔͔̭̎͌̓̕͝h̵̨̧̡̛̟̯̘̤̝̮̣͑̓̉͌̑͊ī̷̘̙̻͎̤̀̽͛̒̀̽̒̋͒̏̏̚ň̸̛̼̼̤͎͐̓̋̓̈́͛̀̉͛͛̚͘̚͝ͅg̶̢̪̹͉̳̞̹͍͙̖̔̅͛̓͜.̶̠̥̺̤̅̌"̴̡̭̜̭̬̱̮͇̮̝̭͇̒̿̈̌ͅ

"̵̡̲̹̤̽̔̅̌̐̈́̉̒̄̓͘̕S̶̨͙͖͔̭̖̣̫̣̭͈̟̏̋́͌̋́́̏͝ờ̷̢̧̨̧̳̪̖̲̟̞͖͉̫̳͓̯͓̏͐̍̏̀̕m̶̝̩̺͔͕̐̔̀̊̈́̀͐̿͗̏̐̕̕͝e̸͔̫̮̲̋̅̒͊͑͌̒͒̕̕͝t̶̻̦͖͇̬͎̗͎͇̹͎͙̄̑̒̉̇̾͐͝ì̸̻̣͙̞̳̙͙̓̌̇͠͠m̴̨̺̠͎̆̍͆̾e̷̟̪̓̒̀̌̈́͂̉͘̚͠s̴͓͑̅̊̀́ ̴̯͉̤͉̈́̍̔̓̃͋͋͛͆͐͌̈́̃̌a̸̢̧̧͈̝͔̰͕̫͍̦͋̋͌̋̎́ͅ ̸̨̛̛̪̖̪̣̘̘͚̤͛̽̅̂̄͐̿̑́́n̵͚͖̎͑̀͒̐͋̔͆̍̀͘͝ę̴̹͎̺̦͚̯̹̖̦̯̊̌̿̈́̽͛̎̾͂͌̅̌̋̈̚͝͠ͅa̵̡̢̮̩̩̬͓̭̼̮̜̪̍̆͛́̑̇̑̄̋͝ŗ̷̞̼̯̟̲͔̥̩̦̳̭̝̠̘͈̈́̔̑͘-̸̲̠̝̱͚̐̑̒̅͒̈́̍̓͘͝ͅd̶̢͖͖̠͇̞̹̭̫͈͌̇̚͜͝ͅe̵̩̟͙̻͈͉̻̖̤̮͙̹̺̞̙͐͆͑͂̔̋̑̓́̀͝͠͠a̵̙̠͔͖̗̰̫̙̪̹̘̤̗͐̋ț̵̡̜̻͕͌́̔͂͊̇ḧ̷̢̛͇̱͈̫̭̞͕̳͛̏͋́̃͌̑̀ͅ ̷̧̭̝͕̀̊̊̎̆̀e̵͙̫̣̤̓x̷̣̭͔̦͈͌̄̂̍̉̓̐ͅp̷̧̭͍̲̳̠̰̯̗͔͈̫̖̺͖̊̀̔̑̏̃̑̑͑̚͠ͅe̸̛̛̱͙̥̯͓̼̜͛̊͐́̈̌́̒͑͒͘͝r̸̢̟̘͇̎͛͐͛̆͊ḯ̵̢̡̧̠̹͎̥̥̗̐̍̈̍̂̂̊̽̃̐̎̾̆ͅę̸̢̗̪͔̺̱̐̊̾̍̏̈́̑̓̃͐͆̾̀̋͘̕͠n̶̢̧͉̳͎̳̥̹̼͙͉̗̋̃̓͐͂͂̄͛̿̀̔̔́́͘c̸̨̧͓͖̦̠̤̭͚̟̲͍̺̝͎͓͆̓͋̔̑̈͑́͑́̌̋̿͘͘͝ë̴̢̠̖̝̞̜̦̹́͋͂̐̾̊̋̒͝͝ ̴͓͚͓̻̹̤̖̬̻̯͖̂̐̋̊͜c̴̢͇̤͖̜̫̥̹̜͙͔̓͒̓́̈̍̔̇͛͘ạ̴̪͔̝̜̒̎̅̉̚͝n̶͓̺͔̰͇̑̊̆̀̑̃͐ ̸̡̡̛̯͕̥̩͉̗̙̬͈͎͉̄̔̐̽̀͗̈͒͑͋̀̈́̓͠ư̶̖͓̻̯̩̙̯̎̓̏̋n̶̡͎͓̫̣̝͉͍͎̺͙̲̱̩͂́͗̂́́͆͂̏͋͘ḽ̶̨̣̱͍̮͚͍͉̮̝̦͋̈́͑͑̃̓̌̓͆̆̀͘͜͠ͅǫ̸̢͔͙̖͓̱̲̙͙̙̌̋͑̎́̌͂̏̕c̸̡͔͇̺̗͚͙͉̮͌̃̅͂͋̐͘k̸̨̫͉͇̘̻̄͛͂̍͊͑̒͑̋͗̓̿͘ ̵̢̤̻͖͖̮͙̝̟̭̩̰́̇̓̈́̏̆̓̈́̈́ͅì̵̻̹̘̖͔͎̓̐̀͊ţ̷̛̳̪̤̼̫̰͚͎̖̞͓̏̓̍̅̆͝ͅ,̷̟̘͔͔̻͋͗͊̏̈͐͌͛̃̅͌̽̈́̿̾"̷̧͕͓̤̯̂̐̈́͐͆ 

Danny improvised.

"̵̛̲͔͉̈̏͛̽B̸̧̖̙̠͇͓͈̼̎̎̈́̔́͐͊͆̐̍͂̒͗̕͜ͅü̷͕̜͍͎̠̪̹͈͎̰͙t̴̨̗̫͔͔͍̪̹̜̮͙̼̣͍͈̮̠͊͑́͋͝ ̴̢̱̗̩̲̖̜͎̆͒̿̃̀̈̈́̀̏͆̾́̑͘̕̕͜ͅi̷̠̭͙͈̮̞̞̔̀̓͠t̸̛͎̣̘͔̳͉̹͎̫͌͊́̓̽̊͛̍͠ ̴̨͍̣̙̞̺̮̞͓͎͓͔̭̯̪́͒̀s̶̡̙̹͉͖̩͖̰̖̊͐̍̔͘͜ͅt̸͕̏͆̊̈́̊̕a̸̢̖̤̩̹̣̝͇̙͂͑͛̕͘ỷ̷͍̳̖̘̣̭̤̜̤̜̄́̌͊́̊͑̍̂̍̆͘s̸̛͙͙̲̞̫̟̼͎̪̺̗͇̹̚͝ ̴̡̛̱͕͉̩̳̰͉͍̯̹̥̱̼̓̉̂̄̒͐̈́́̎͌͌̈́̐̏͘͜͜ḑ̶̖͙̲̲͎̀̊̓̇̿͒̎͑̏̈͊̓͝ǫ̷̛̙͉̩͔̹̗̩̯̞̈́̽͗̔̈́̑̾̂̇̓̀̈́͘r̷͍̈́̓́̂́͗̈́̈̈́͐̄m̴̢̦͉̤̦̥̥̘̻̝̲̲͈̘͖̎̊̒͐̚ͅå̷̡͎̺̺̖̼̥̯͗̓͗̀̇̔͆̎̀͐̇̈̚͘͘͝n̵̡͕͈͕̖̣͔͚̠̳̅̇̅̅͛̈́͜ͅt̶̡̠̖̜̎͒̎͑͒͂̊̎̇̄͠͝ ̶̨̧̮̹̲̗͇̠̪̳̮͚̝̭̪̀͜ͅữ̵̻̳̇̈́́̾̌̊̀͂͒̚͘͝n̶̫͕͍͊͆̒̀̉̀̾͝t̴̢̡̪̜̠̞͙̉̃̽̅̉ȋ̷̡̮̖͉͎̹͔͇̭̬͓̇̀̓̑͛̾͒͆͘͜͜͝͝ĺ̸͈̗̹̞̽͗͒̃̅͂̾̈́̉́̾̚͠ ̸̞͎͈̫͈̈́̆̾̇́̈́̽y̴̢̭̦̲̫̫̮̜̣̺̟̩̾͛̉̊͗̐̔͆̈͠ͅo̸͇̘͊͊̏̐͌ŭ̴̪̲̜͖̱͔͔̺̻͐̇̈́̓ ̷̳̝̣̖̹̰̗̼͖̦̟̹͕͐̄͠ḩ̵̙̟͎̜̣̹̗͖̥̣͈̫̼̩́͐̈́͑̊́̑͗͊̇́̎̌͘̚ę̷̨̛̱̖̥͇̘̬̯̻͈̖̼̯͓̊̌̾͑͌̋́͛̐̅́̅̋ͅḁ̴͓̞̬̫̰̼̼̠̝̺̃͐̈́̆̌r̴̢̪̯͍͔̙̱͗̏ ̸̡̛̪̾̏̃̃̒̐͂͌̉̅̌͂̿̊̈́̚S̷̼̻̣͆̎̽̋͋̈́͋̓͒̍͋̍́͘ͅͅǫ̸̣͖͓̹͈͖͈̳͙̟̲̟̯͉̲̓̔̾̀͒̍̉͐͂͋̐̅̋̀͝͝ṵ̵̪̻̦̙̖̌̈̎͐̂̍̏͠l̷̛̟͇̻̦̪̳̜̲̫̥͔̓͊̊́̃̐̕̕͝͠ ̴̫̄̑̋͗̅̈̎͌͊̈́̚͝S̶͈̤̟͛̿͗͋͌̔̾͘͠͝p̷͚̈́̌̋̈́͑̀̃̀̓̅̑̈̄̕̚ē̵̢̛̮̬̤͕̦͉̠̓͆̂̌̀͌̍̄͠a̴̠̜͙̾̊̾̆̄̔͒͌̈̑͆́͘̕̚͠k̵͇̠͕̝̪̎̎͐.̷̠͈̠̓ ̶̥̣̱̳̙̙̦̻̅͑͊̍̔̐̌̑̍͊̔̅̂̓͠ͅH̷̢̨̡̱̲̝͎̝̺̦̯̹̪̦̼͉́̿̔̔̚͜͠à̴̢̟̦̫̪̘̩̹̥̬̝͓͙̲̬̑̽̏̾͆̀̉̒͊̄͝͠ͅs̷͎̪͖̈̍̅̇͗̓̕͠ ̵̢̛͓̦͎͓̐̒̏͋͒̊̒̿̐̿̓̕̕á̴̢̜̩̻͍̭̞̮̟̟̠̗͙͖̯̿̈́̃̏̂͠ͅn̶̨̼̯̠̰͖̻͈͖͎͖̝̯̥̘͉̈́̒̓̓̄̒͛̈͒̀͐͘͠y̶̧̯̺̩̺̹͛͋̑̊͐͊̊̒̉̋̚̕t̴̨̩͓͍̬̋̔̾̊h̶͕̞̳͖̯̼̦͓̬̥̜͛í̵̛̪͚̦͉͖̠̃͐͐̐̏̓͒̌̿́̈́̎͝͝͝ͅn̷̢̢̨̺̳͔͔͎͎̯̼͙̙͋̉͌͜g̵̳̭̤̪̳̺͚̱̽͑͋̔̀̽̾͒͆͂́̎̉̈́͜ ̴͔̋͗̆̊̾͒̉̔͌͊̕͝͝l̸͖̙̳͍͑̍̃̋͆̒̔̄̾͋̈̐̿͗̿͘̕ͅͅį̶̢͔͚̣͇̭͈̣͇̲̗͖̻̱̖̯͛̀̃̔͋̐͒͋͑̇͝͝k̷̗̈́̈́̉̈́̈̄̿̾̀͋̇̔͝e̵̛͇̖̺͔͓̜̤͓̲̥̺̞̫̼͖̗͐̏̾̌̈́̓̽͆́͂͗̂̊̉ ̴̼̓̇͛̆̅̏͌͆̒̀͒̆̑̊̂̐͝ţ̷̛̬̤̺̣̠̲͈̤͈̽̋̇͊͆̔̂͝ͅh̵̨̙̤͙͖͖̦͉͔̱̺̭̆̀̐̿̋̆ͅḁ̴̢̩̳̼͙̘̹͂̈́̒̈́̊̓̿͂͋̅̃͛̕̕͠ţ̶̛̗̜̻̠̣͈̈̔̔̉̌̍̂̍̄͝͝͝ ̴̼̦̹͖̣͙̻̱̺̗͆̾ḙ̸̇̊̀̒́̅̔̅̿͐̊̈́͘̚v̷̭̮̤͚̔͊̈́̑͒ͅe̴̬̯̙̗͈̼̣͖̲͇̻̫̘̺͉̗̍͒̍͋̚͜ŗ̶͖̜̟͓͓̻̦͓̩̲̺̼̀̎̾͒̌̈́̀͒̓͊̈́̈́̉͘ ̵̢̹̠̬̫̣̙̝͔̱̞͕̖̥̤̑̐̂̕͝͠ḩ̵̧̘̜̫̤̖̣̈́̒͒̍̈͋̔̈́͛̀̔a̷̧̧̧̮͇̰̠̞̳͗p̶̨̡͕͔͙̥̭̦͔̻̏͐̈́́̂̾͠p̸̩͈̟̺̘̹̙̜̤̱͖̲̈́̾͂͛͐̏̂͗̒͋̎̀͗̚̕̕ę̴̫̟̻̝̿̑̎́̓̿͒̄͐̽̎̔̈́̕n̸̢̥̩̬͕̊̐̑̀̀̈́̏̿̕͝͝ę̶̢̨̛̛̘̼̩̤̱̥͈̤͖̐̏̃̏̀̈̽̓̕d̴̛̥̾͋́̂͛̈͝͝ ̶̨̛̞͕͇͙̙̪͈̮t̶̛̰̻̬͆͛̎͐́̍̓̀̚̕̚͝͝͝͝ǫ̸̖̺̩̱̪̟̰̞͈̿̈́͐́̅͛͝͝͝ͅ ̷̺͈̞͇̣̦̙͙͗̐̋͛̀̂͋̈́͐̓̌̂̈͋͗͂͝ÿ̴̛̦̬̀͑̓̕͠ỏ̶̼̲̤̖͖͈͆̊͂͋̈̈̔̊u̵̗̗͇͕̤͔̯͚̝̰̪̎̾͊̀̉͝?̴̛̳̜̝̀̆̑̉"̷̡̟̤̳̥̺̺͕̳̝̙̣̖̮͔̈̊́͛̽̿̉͝͝

A shadow passed over Vogel's face.

̸̨͎͙͉͙͔̙̥͈͔̲̞̯̦̯͍̅̂̅̈́͒̚͠"̵̛͍̹̳͖̥̍̓̈́̉̔I̸̼̙̠̹̠̲̙̫̔̐̔̅̒͝ͅ ̸̡̡̛̦̫̬͍̘͚͈̺̱̲̋̄̽͌̇͛͐̎͜͜͝n̶̡̪͓̝̳̩͇̺̪͙͖̣̼̅̈̍͛͗͒̂̉͛̀̓̂̽͂͋̏͜ͅͅe̶̫̫̹̦̱̻̮͓͋͐̊̀͗͐̃̋͜a̶͈̖͎̖͖͉̻̭͎͍̟͔͇͎̐̈̽̾͂͑̂̈̐̏͐͐̿͆̋͘͠ͅŗ̵̡̫̥̤̱͖͈̼͖̬͓͖͎́̀̐̑̋̎̀̾͋͑̀͜͝l̷̡̨̦̞̫̙̀͌͆̀̊̇͗̇̅̚͝y̸̛̞̱͚̓̀̐̐̉̌̒̋̍̓̽̌̅̄̾͘ ̷̠̙͍͚͔̻̰͉̱́̾̏̄͆̿͝d̵̠̜͎̹̤̯͓̘͂ṟ̴̨͕͖͕̰̍͂͐̾̓̎̋̌̓͊́̇͂̒͝ǫ̸̈̏̓̉͝w̷̡̖͇̦̼̲͍̲̫̩͇̄̆͐͒̐̃̀͌̏̊̍̈͛͒ͅń̸̞̜̻̥̗͎̥̇̉̽̔̄̈́̇̃̓͐͊̀̇̕͠e̵̱̝̩̤̦̬̼̠͍̫̩̱̅̅́͌̎̕̚͜ͅd̸̺͚͗̓̀͗̾͛̔̇̑͋̀͂̽̍͌̕ ̴̢̮̥̞́̅̋͐̾̊̀̈͛a̵͈̲͙̯͈̼͚̻͖̼̳̮̍͜s̴̡̬̮̠̠̈́̾̔͜ ̶̨̛̛̜̩̥̻͈̔͗͑͋̄̐̏͗̎͜à̵̧̧̱̹̯̦̬̹͕͍͖̦̞̽̔̑̍̆͑̿̈́͋̽̈́͛͊͘͝ͅ ̸͕̙͝c̸͈̯̳̣̣̲̰̺̯̫̼̥̽̓̀̒̃̿̃͠ḥ̶̼͓͍̟̲̳̯͖͇̫̻̀͛̌͌̓͜͝ͅi̶̢͙̼͉̮̱̱͚̬͂̐̿͌̋͆͂̅̎͂̅̕̚l̶̛̬̄̎̃͊͊̃̌ͅḏ̵̢͓̜͕͕̫̹͔̳̉̒͝͝.̵̫́́̀̌͗̌̽̑͘ ̴̡̡̡͕̲̲͇̹̙̰̰̳͖̘̈́̿̀̌͗̀͋̎Ḧ̸̡̡̱̠̘̙̘͍̮̙̀̈́̅͜ä̵̧̨̨̛̖̩̩͍̘̺̬̰̬̻̔͋̿͜͝ḑ̶̮̖͍͇̺͉̱͕̉́̌̑͜ ̴͈̮̞̟͎̌̅͛̚ȧ̷̡̡̘͍̠̬̤̺̺̭̮̭̩̺̎̽̾͗̍̀̃̉͑̈̚̚͝n̸̛͓͎̾̒̍͐̒͐͌͐͛̌̇͛͆̇̚ ̷̢̧̳̭̫̯̝̳͖͍͋͑̓̀͠ŏ̶͙̖͕̈́̃̈́̏̀̆̿̄̆̈͛̒̂̋͠͝ͅù̶̡̨̠͔͍̯̝͕̻̲̣̩̖̣̲͐̑̈́͂͐͋͑̈́́͝t̷̮͗̐̿́͑͂̒̽̆̏͐͝͠-̴̻͚̮̤̼̤͔͇̝͖̜̤̤̺̓̀̎̅̉͌̒̏͗͒́̚͝͝͝ö̷̦̫̳̩͓͔̮̙̥́̀̈̃̚͠f̸̧̣͖͓͎̣͖̬͖̥̣̘̬͎̭̀̆͆͋̾̍͛́͛̀̈́̑̚͘̕͠ͅ-̸̢̛͖̗̘̱͈͍͕͉͔̖̞̞̣͗̈͒̒͑͆̎ͅb̷̺͎̦͈̪͔̫̝͌̕ͅo̵̢̜̟͖̺̞͓͈͇̝̱̞͎̜̮͗̃͂͆͘d̶̢͚̞̝̞̮̪͈̤̘̫͖͈̯͆̉͛̊̇̂͐͑ý̸͚̬̪̖̻̏͐͘̕͘ ̴̪̯̹̤̬͊͊͊̇̅̈́̓̓̅͊͋̓̈́̍͝e̸̛͙̹̗̟͇̣̟̙̭͈̥͊̑̂̀͂͒̇̑̋͐̊̒̐͘ẋ̶̨̪̭̻̫̭̭̗̭̯͇̹̺̺̝̾̃̽͜ͅp̴̨̝̽͐̃ę̵̘͖̖̬̮͙͐̏̇͆̑͂͝r̷̨̝͖̻̖̟̩̥̰̩͉̰̣͊̾̂͊̊͒̍̓̔̏̒͊̕ͅi̶̹̪̳͙͙͚̣̰̩͈͎̱̖͑̉̕͜͜͝͝ȩ̸̡̧͍͖͖̓n̷̘̓͛̏̓̏͑̒ç̴̡̛̜̭͖̤̥͚͌̉̿̅͒̽̀̿̊̌̈́̕̕͠e̶̡̻̰͕̙͍̦̟̬̜̻̙̼̫̝͌̒̽̓̆ ̴̨͔͇̼̜͔͗̾̇̍͐̑̏̕͘͝a̷̘̬̮̠͋͋̈́̕͜n̴͇̝̾̂̆̽̄̿̓̒̇̃́̉͝d̴͈̀́̽́̈́̈̋̇̍̾̍̆͂̈́̕͜ ̵͓̫̫̟̺̉̐e̵̛̲̣͈̿͌͋̎̄͛̆̿̊̋v̸͔͇͖͉͈̭̟̾͛̈́̐͆̂̒͛̇́̇̈͝͝e̵͎̞̞̥̖̗̰̼̋̈́́̈́̓̂̒r̶̬̺̰̎̉̀̽̇͐͒̉͌͑̀͠ỷ̵̢̢̨͖̯͖̞͔̻̜̤͖͛͗̈̉̃͆͗̆̍͆̂̾̽̀̕͝t̵̢̜̼̲̩͖͉͗͑̎̉͜ͅh̴̨̧͉̩̗̳̱̦͕̓̆̔̀͗͂͂͑̅̍̊͂̚̚ͅi̴͕̭̼͇̘͎͎͕͔̜̥̰̬̿̉̍̄͜͝͝͝͝n̷̢̙̟̂̈́̊͐̕͝g̶̨̞̹̣̳͐̈̎̂͝.̵̧̰̖͓̙͚̥̜̹̤͙̯̹̄̽͒̀͐̂͒̆͠”̴͉̬͙̻̍̓̑̂͗̾̌̈́̎͒̈̈͊̄͌̕͝

Danny nodded sagely, hoping his poker face held up as Vogel explained what had been said to the rest of the crew.

Commander Lewis walked over and regarded the boy with a mix of awe and apprehension. Her job as commander was to anticipate potential complications, and this "soul language" certainly qualified. She couldn't shake the feeling that they were stumbling into something far bigger than themselves.

Beck decided to test his theory. He turned to Danny and asked in plain English, "Can you understand what I'm saying right now?"

Danny paused for a moment as if considering his answer carefully. Then, he responded in the ethereal language,

̷̛̝̄̆̆̐̐̄̌͠"̴̨̺̗̮̗̘̱̭̉̒͗́̑̃Y̸̧̛̰̰͙̓̏̊͌̒́̆̊͋̔è̴̢̡̨̘͚͉̺͍̥̞̣̞̦̫̔͒̈̌͒̈͛̓̚ͅs̴̺̬͚̟̤̖̅͐͛̈͛́̊,̷̙̙̞͍̠̲̣͇̎͌̑̊̿̊͐̑̋̾̒͆̈ ̷̡̧̬̖̭͍͇͔͇̤̺̯̥͈̣̓̐͑͆̀͌́͐̒͐̄̇̈̄͌͜ͅĮ̶̛̗̫̗̘͖͙͖̤̹͙̹̺̐̈̓́̿́̀́̇̍͑̑͂́ ̶̡̛̛̛͉̘̺͇̻͍̱̙͔̖̲̩͙̥̼̎̾͊̾̆̽͒̓́́͆̉͑̚c̵̥̠͎̻͈̗̞̩̰̓̄̎̂̚a̷͕̙͔̩̝̥̦̗̪̫͈͈̯̘̘͛̄̂͌̏̈́̄̂͆̀͛̉͜͠͠͝͝͝n̸̩̩̲̘͇̿̀̃̈́̆̋͋̔̈́̽̀̇̈͠͝ ̷̛̥̩̠̱͙̗̯̰͕̀̽̈́̒̎ư̶͔̱̳̱̖͙͖̪͎͍̲͈̼̓̉̋͆͛̓̈͘͜͝ͅͅn̶͚͕̞̜̠̣̺̬̒́̏̈́̌̐͝͠d̶͍͇̎̔̈́͌̓̉̾͒͛͌̂͘͝ȩ̸̛͓̬͔̯͖̩͎͕͖̥̳̮̯͓̦̈͗̂̑̊͑͊̎̀̕̕̚͜͝͝r̶̛̳̥͕̿̑̔̊̅̉́̇͌̓́͗̈́͗͘s̴̡̡̛̼̯͚̯͈͚͌̅͛̐̒̿̆̔̓̂̄̃̄̚͜ͅt̷̥̠̟̠̪͉̖̜̤̘͉͎̜̔͛͂̂͊͊̊̀̀ͅȧ̷̢̨̡̡̡͚̱̯͍̹͙̫̮͖̺͆͋̿̈̏̓̑̄́̃̈́̿̄͝ǹ̴̪̗̖͓̮͊̍̿̈͛͌d̷̡̺̜̜͍͉̼̼̰͍͉͈̱̓ͅ ̴̰͇͕̺͉̱̐̇̈̏̌́͆͆̓̇͗̚m̸̛̮̘̟̹͓̝̰͓̳̫̻͉̈́̄͒̚̕ỡ̷̱͔̻̞̬̽̍͂̆̂͋̓͑̓̕͝s̸̰̫̗͕̗̆̓̿̄̈́̈̅t̵̼͎̺͔̙̳͕̞̱̯̯̆͑̓ ̴̟̼̮̏̒̾̉̕͝ͅļ̷̬͇̖̬̯̰̔̓̓̑͊̈́̀́̿͘͠a̷̡̨͙͓̯̹͎̖͍͐̈́̈͐̓̀̇́̎̓͑̓́̃͂͜ņ̶̛͔͙̖̣̭͇̻͚̝̟̟̬͉̤̹̫̀͌̐̀̓͌̂̀̃̕͘͘͝g̶̬̞͕͓͚̥̪̭͙͎̅̈̊̉̈́̈́̾̆̽͜ͅų̴̰̪͈͚̰̫̘͂a̷̡̺̝͇̹̯̓̀̄͒̚͝g̴̟̠̼͓̹͕̠̬͈̜͒̈́̀́̕͜e̵̡͍̎͗͗s̵̖̖̀́̂̾̎̔̓́͂͛̚̕͝͝,̶̢͎̗͚̺̭̰̥̭͎̲͖̜̯̭̑̈́̋̉̿̋̄̽̚̚͝͠ ̵̡̠͑̇̊͂͂̌̄̄̾͊͋ǫ̴͚̭̥͈͙̜̰͔͖͕̯̩̪̱̘̿͗̔̓̈́̿̈̈́̈́̓̈́̋̀̅͝͝r̷̨̨̫͚̗͖͋͂̐̇̀̅͌̓͒͜͝͝ ̴͔̥̹̌̇a̸̦̹̣̼͈̺̰̪̰̻̘̅̾́̈̑̇̐̚̕͜ṭ̴̡̘̦͇̦̫̥̆͑́͛͆̍̽̔̽̈́̿̔̂̕̕͘̚͜ ̵̧̡̺̰̗̜͖̖̲̠̭̯̤̻̋͑͐́̚̕l̵̨̛͈̗̥̺͔̙̣̠̏̀̿̎̏͑̈́͒̌̊̌̔̿̕̚ͅę̶̲̺͈̻̻̜̯̝̯̱͙̔͒̀̓͐͜ạ̵̧̡̭̭̣̯͓̐̔͋̋̑͘͘͜͜s̵͓͇̪̟͖̉͋͋̅̑͘t̶̨̢͈͖̳̗̪̦͐̓̉̉̾̿͐̕͜͠ͅͅ ̵̡̨͓͓̰̞͔̹̼̊̄̿̾̕̕l̴̼̘̤̝̫̪̞̘̭̗̗̫̬̭̭̥̆̑̅̏́̏͠ȩ̸̦̙̳͎͈̞͙̔̌̇̓̂͌͒̎̑̕͝͝͝ạ̸̝͉̮͖̠͉̖̏̏̔̋ȓ̸̜͐̓̎̑̿͑̑n̴̛̗͎̟̅̃́͋͊̉̔͑̀̎͐̅̚̕ ̷̭͈̬̼͙͍͇̦̱̾̅ṱ̶̼͇͈̘̀̓̂͊̒̓͊̕͜͝h̸̯̩̣͖̲̉e̸̡̡̡͚͈̪̮̭̞͖͔̠̝͛̍͂̐͛͌͗̿͊m̷̹̬̪̱̲̖̹̪͍̺͓͍̯̻͉͛̐̑̉͐̄̏͂̄̈͑́͘͠͝ͅ ̷̡̡̧̠̲̺͍̥̭̠̓̈́̀̋̚͝ḿ̵̭͖̦̬̯͙͐̃͐̎̈́̔́͌̀̀̚͠͝͝o̷̪̘̠̱͕̓͂̂̈̐͋̀́̾̽̎̅̕͝͝͝ͅr̷̨̰̭̖̗̹̝͈͎̀̐̓̇ė̵̛̱̲̹̂̂̓͛̐͝ ̶̨̭͖͙̹͈͐͐̄q̸̗͍̟̹͈̞̥̪̙͔̘̻͖͒͂͜͜ũ̵̘͙̱̈́́́̐͝i̷͔̘̥͎̟͙̖͉̅̇̅̓͒͊̋͋̒̇́̓̚c̴̡̡̛̳̳̮̦͍̠͉̤̮̦̙̣̓̊̈́̈́͜͜͠k̷͕̺̲̜̞̍͊́͒͛͋̐͒͑̚͠͠l̸̨̢̛̺͙̜̹͇̬͔̼͓͈̬̳̦̿̿̈́͛̒̀̇y̶̪̿͋͛̊̀̍́̂́͠ ̷̼̜̗̹̞͍̘̱͒͂̾̈́͒͒͝͝ͅb̶̫͋͋̄̉̈̅̂è̷͕̎͊͒͋̈͐̋͐c̸͚̔̊̿̈́̈́͗́̑̌͒̕͝à̴̘̼͒͗̏̇u̴̻͕̰͈̰͉̺̙̗͔̹̱̫̻̻̝̒s̶̯̮̀̏͐͋͐̀e̵̳̭͇̪̳̙̬̮̖̲͛̂͑͆͆̆͑͛́̕ ̵̡̩͔͕͎͍͇̣̹́̇́͂́̂o̶̧͖͎̝͇̜̟̮̗̜̿͒̓͗f̷̨̠͖͙̬̩̐͌̓̂́̆̈́̿̓̂̈͒͂̐̕ ̷̧̱͚̱̹͖̰͇͍̱̥͍͗̈́̈́̚͜m̶̨̨̻͕̙͓͙̙̺̉͑̀̄̀y̷̦̬̮͍̬̻̯̮͓͌̆͋̈́͜͝ ̵̡̨̧̨͇̱̲̮͓̣̱̲͈͖̹͚̝̄̄̾̍̈́̌̔̉͑̾̓͌̎̄̚͘̚a̴̡̰̜͓̓̉͆̍͑̓̈̍̀̅͊̌͒̕̕͝b̶͍̪̔į̴̲̖̜̱̬̰͈̃̂̽͛͝l̸̬̭̦̝͎̖͑́ī̵͈̞̠̼̣̘͎̣̙̭͖͇̇̐̎͂̀̾̇͋̂̈́͠͝ͅt̸̥̗͑͊́̂͠į̵̢̞͈̮̥̬̥̤͖͍̣̾̈́̍̽̃̓̑̈́̏̾̾͗́̈͊̃̕͜ẽ̶̡̱͖̭͍̩̰͔͈͋̿͑͐̒̐̽̽̕͝ͅs̸̡̼̼̞͚̖̺̟̳͕͍̮̆͋́̇.̶̣̤͉͒̀̾"̵̻̩̱̘͇̼̽̓̑

Now serving as an interpreter, Vogel relayed the words to the rest of the crew. A collective murmur of intrigue rippled through the Ares team, each member processing the implications.

"That's fantastic!" Mark exclaimed. "So, we can just speak to him in English, and you can translate for us, Vogel. It'll make communication a breeze."

The gears in Mark's head were turning, and he couldn't help but ask, "Are there ways for us to learn this soul language without nearly dying?"

Danny fidgeted, his eyes darting around the room. He seemed to be weighing his options, deciding how much to reveal.

"̴̗͈̞̥͕̤͋̒̒̍́̒́̏̾̚W̴̡̝̱̯͓̭͔͈̹̭̉̂͊̾̄͂̈́͌̐̕ę̶̫̫̳͉͍̖̭̣̱̫̾̐͋̃̏̃̐̕ḽ̶̡͓̲̠̱̳̟̺̿̄̾̓̈́̆̓̉̎̇̓͂̆̈́͗̃̂͜l̴̡̧̛͈̱̫̯̹̲̅̉̌̊͆͒͆͐͒͗,̷̻͕̭̃ ̷̫̱̠͈̗͈̻̹̰̲̫͎͌͐̆̄̌̄ͅͅm̸͕͚͙̩͕͎̱̹̳̰̦̦̹̞͙͗͐͋̌͊͐͂͆̀͐̕͜͠ͅe̶̢̧͍̜͚͙̖̗̒͑̆̉̎̀̋̊̏d̸̢̯̣̘̗̥͝į̵̢͍͓̠͔̝̞͉͖̮̩̺̮̌̓̾͊͛͛̓͂͒͐̓̂̚͝͝ͅţ̷̢͔̪͈̞̞̭̪̦̙̬͚͑́̆͜a̷̹̥̹̻̥͙͉̦͎̟̫̘̐̏̅̃͛̋̇̏̎͛͛̽̾͝͝ṫ̸͍̹̙̠̭̺̱͓̦̥̜̊̍͗̒͛̕͘͜͜͠ͅi̷̢͎̰̦̠͚͓̥̮̺̍̈̔̿̈́̅̒ͅͅő̷̧͖̺͎͎̻̹̣̩͍̜͍͐̑́̈́̈̈́̄̀̽͗̍͊̍͘n̷̻̣̮͈̰͉͆͒̌̈́̆͋͘ ̴̘̙͍̱̞͖͓́i̴̢̨̨̺̜̼͚͈͍̮̞͙̻͝ͅs̷̡͙͎̜̯̑̓̿̕͝͝ ̸̢̟̤̦̤̖̮͖̬͈̽̇̈́͐̉͌̉̈́͒̾͋͊̈̋́̃̚͜o̴̲̣̥̭͔̲̎̍͊̄͑̈͌̂̋̌̈͠n̶̡̜̻͔͉̘͕͚͎̘̯͉̪̺̫̉̇̀͗̊̉̉̚͠ͅȩ̷̨̢̨̢̡̖̲̖͙̞̝̈̑̈́́͂̑́̒̆͑̚͠ ̵̢̜̳͇̦͔̇̑͋͛̀̋͂͆̚p̴̨̛̰̝͎͈̰͎̯̱̙̝̻̮̦͛͑̄́͒̔͛̄̈́͜a̷͚͛̌͝t̷̟̮̥̜̟̫̯̿͗̍̓̒̑̄̌́̚͘͠͝h̶̢̡̨̰̜̞̤̳̗̭̗̝͖͂̑̒̏͜ ̸̢̻͍̙̗̙͕̳̗̮͍̥̫͎̐̆͗͛́̅̉̈́t̴̹̪̝͎̗̱̝̝͙̙͆͋̓͌̍́̌̊̕̕̚ơ̷̤͙̟̝̘͐̅͆̈̃͝ ̸̡̰͎̠̓c̷̣̦̭͕̝̩͍̟̭̯͙̬̟̺̑͌̋̈́̂̂́͋̔̉̃͊͑̌̀͘̕͜o̵̧̰̤͇̯̟̪̖̬̮̙͛̑̈́̒n̸̯̔̒̔͒͆̐̔̇̂͗͌̈́̔͝ņ̶̟̲̤̙̮̅̾̈͊̅͜ȩ̸̧͎̤͙̺̘̑̀̌͗̓̽̈̂͒͗͛͋͘͠͠c̸̛̛̳͉̝̩̞̖̱̻̓̋̓͌̈́̂͆̿̐͝t̵̨̛̗̣̳̥̫̙̲͛̎̾̽̀͌i̴̩̱̊͆͋̄̈̍͝ǹ̴̢̤̺͂́̚g̶̨̦͈̩̮̬̩̙͈̝͇͊̈̾͂̓̑̚̚͠͝͝ ̷̨̡̜̰͕͖̳͖͔̻̞̝̭͇̃̆̾̍́̓͛̾́̑̕͝͝w̵̢̤̜̺͓̤͙̹͓͍̗̃̍̎̏̈̽́̇̇̎̃̓͘i̷̡̧̧͔̗̭̙͉̗͇͆̑̔̽̅̈́̐̉͘͝ţ̴̡͉̫̩̩̲͑̊̀͗͒̂̚͘͠ẖ̷̜̯̭͚̬̯͎̈́̓͑͌͝͠ͅ ̸͕̩̓̈́̈͗̍͗̓ỷ̷̡͇̲̞̪̲̭̻̬̗̪͉͎͍͓̤̍͛̄̚͜o̴̢̨̢̨̩̯͓͕̪̣͍͉̣͈͐̽̅̀̾̑͗͘͜͠͠ų̸̨̼̯̣͚̖̠̞̝̈́̈́̊̚̕͠͠r̶̨̨̛̗̻̻̫̹̪̳̰͓̠̳͇̝͔͐͒̇͛͛̀̿͆̑͒̀͊̆̚ͅ ̴̡̢̛̩̼͇̭̦̟͖͕͕̅̈́̃̓̍̄͗̒s̸̲̅̀͊̆̾ǫ̶̢̨̦̭̘͈̦͇̳͔̺̠̍͐̓̉͌͌̃̇ự̸̛͙͆̔̈́͌͆̽̌͐̾̊̕͝l̴̜̭̙͚̾,̸͉͙̭̪̜̗̰̰̩̬͚̬̔̓͛̽͌́͝"̶̞̬͌̒̿

He said finally.

"̷̲͓̮̠̩̮̪͙̗̮̠͌͆B̵̧̯̳̩̞̹̀̓u̴̼̪̗̩̙̥̘̿̄̓͂͋̅̉̆͘ͅt̴̨̛̺͔̣͍̩̙̬̥͇̬͌͛͋̿̾̑̉̎̾̍̆̉̀͘̚͜͜͜ ̵̧͔͔͕̗͛̓̃̉̔̿̀͆̎̀i̵̢̖͓̲̟͙͖͍̼̞̳̟̍́͒ͅͅṫ̸̯͔̣̹̠̭̲̳͐̄̌̄͊͒̔͌̽̿͛ ̴̨̢̹̫̪̱̼͎͓̝͖͌̌͑͂̅͆̍̀̂́̏̍̓͂͝ͅc̸̡̧̛̣̝̖̤̖͙̱̪̙͇̈́́̎̍̈́͆͋͗͂̒̊͊̾̒̕͜͝a̶̡̛̬̳̪͂́̓͂̔̔͐́̀̆̇̚̚̚̚͘n̸̘̮̣̞̳̦̰͙͈̄͗̂̚ ̴̛̛͙̠̣͖̳̒͐̌͐̓̈́̑̽̕͝t̸̼̉͝ȧ̶̡̧̧̨̨̬̱͉̤̪̫̊̏̈́̀́̿͑ķ̵̥̤͈̼̥̣̗̲̫̥̺̩̈͂ͅě̴̢̮̙͉͚̺̼͎̜͉̗̪̠̀̕͝ ̶̗͔͔̙͋́̐̒̈͒̈́̏̇̀͆͌̓̌̚͜ỹ̸̧̬̠̞̙̭̞̗̼̟͖͕̥͙̳̒̐͂̈́̿̇͂́̇̐̋̆͘͘͜ͅȩ̵͖̗͋͝a̷̛̛̬̯͚̱̍̊̊̒̾̃̓̆̓̇̽̈̓̈́r̸̨̛̝̳̿̓̐̓̋́̅͒͒̈́̏͂̒͂s̷̢̡̧͚̰͕̗̼̯̫͚̆̐̇͐̔̂̈̾̉͜͠͝ ̵̡̨̨̛̹͔̦̜̺͍͙̭͍̠͖͓̣͇͗͋̿͊̀̃̍̓͒̆̀̈̾̚͘͝ţ̸̢̼͍̝͍̩̹͍͖̔̽͊̿̕o̶̳̳̞̤͎̟̽̆͌͐̿̀̍̉͑̽́̅͜͝ͅ ̶̨͔̲̠͓̹̯̜̞͎͍̳̞̮͖̝͙̈̑͂̍̒͆͝͝ă̷̡̢̤̺̦̪̗͉̭͕̘͉̿̏̇̔͒̒̇̽͜͜͜ͅc̷̢̪̕͠ḫ̴͓̯͛̔̚i̷̡̬̺͖̪̿̆̓͆̊͗̂̌ę̷̲̤̣̯̤͉͑͆̋̿̏̂͋͐̍̍̚͠v̵̡͚̺̥̫͈̖̞̻̝̺̩̺̦͒̾́͒͆̏͑͠͠ͅȩ̵̗̮̱̥͉̯̺̤͈͇̦̎̀̈́̑͌̀̔̀̇͐́̌͠ ̷̛͓͈̠̽̈́̓̽̅͐̊̄͝͝t̶̛̗̭̖͉̞̲̐͊͂̆͑̃̀͋̈́͂͗͛͊͂h̸̛͕̰͉̖̼͚̒̾͆͒̐̿e̷͓̣̠͈̰̎̏̆͆̎̃́̏͝͝ ̶͚̺͍̰͕̱͙̓̓̓̍͋͑͗͊͝l̸̹̲͍̦͙̳̗̲͎̹͈͆̈͂́̋̿̌̄̉͋͑̑͠͝ͅȩ̸̝̩͙͓̑v̴̧̛̭͔͙͚͕̩̞͐̒͂́̅̂̑̂̃͌͊̋͂ẻ̸̡̡͉̗̖̟̮̺̹̻̝͇̼̫͐̓̅͊̀̚l̴̡̹̻̳̱̞͈̗̓͛̐͐̀̀͒̓͗̎́̑͘͘̚͝͠ ̴̯͙̀͠ǫ̶̩̩̫̲̰͉͈̖͚̥͙͚̤͓͋̈́̀̓̔̂̐̂͆͜f̵̢̝̝̞̞͚̥̞͆̌͊̾̈́͊̐̋͋̓̃̋̒̚͝ͅ ̶̡̢̰̳̰̬͓̩̝̮̘̙̫̞́c̶̡̥̙̯̹͙͎̺͕͊̿̅͋̄̐ō̸̢̦̜̱͖̂͊̋̀͒̾̎̋̿͊̚͘͝ͅn̶̡̛͓͉̬̰̳͐̆͛̈͑̀̅͌ͅn̶̖͎͚̹̍͌͗͠͝e̴̼̪͗̉̉̀͑͌̀̑́̃̆͠c̶̡̹̘̠̆̾͊̓̀̓͘ͅt̸̨̠͙̹̞̤̬̐̾̓͒̓̆̈̋̏̓̋̍̔͜͠͠i̷̧͕̮͓̙̹̫̍̅͂̓̉̈́͝ȍ̷̡̜̳͕̻̣̗̝͗̿̃̂̒n̵̨̛̙̞̺͈͍̳̹̺̯̔̃̔̆̊̽̀̔̽͒̓̏̔̍͛͝ ̵̞̘͉̃̑̒͊̐̀̀̎r̷͍͔̫͓̯̜̆̈́̏̄͒̐͒̂́̽̿͘͘͝ȩ̶̠̜͕͉̭͍̹̣̳̹̦̦̥̎͗́̇͗́͛̈̉̿̓̑͐̕͝q̶̧̡͇̫͕͕̬̞̦̩̤̌͜͜u̸̡̜͇̤̳̜͔̲̣̭̺̼̅͗̐̆̄̐͗̈́̄͐̀̐͗͘̕į̵̧͉̞̞̟̯̝͖͈̠̅̿̔̍ͅŗ̶̛̣̯̗͔͂e̶̛̮̬̞̤̬̠̹̜͎̭̞̮̥̗͖̱̫̓̏͗̕͝d̶͕̤̓.̵̧̗̲͖̲̞̰̌̏́́̄̀̚͝"̴̖͎̹̣̼͓̀͜

As Vogel relayed the message, Danny's thoughts raced. He could tell them the truth - that he could use his ghostly aura to forge a connection and unlock their ability to understand the language of the soul. But something held him back.

Having Vogel as the sole translator gave him a buffer, a way to filter the crew's questions and maintain some control over the situation. Plus, the idea of connecting with their souls felt intimate, almost invasive. He wasn't sure he had the energy for it in his weakened state.

No, keeping that particular ability under wraps for now was better. Let them believe that meditation was the only alternative. It bought him time to figure out his next move, to decide how much he was willing to share.

"NASA will have a field day with this," Lewis remarked. "Imagine the implications - a universal language, hardwired into our very souls."

Mark nodded, his mind already racing with possibilities. "We should record it," he suggested. "Send it back to Earth, let them analyze it. See if anyone else can understand it."

Rick leaned back in his seat, a look of wonder on his face. "This could be life-changing," he mused. "I mean, think about it. If this language is tied to the soul, it might just confirm that there is one. That we're more than just flesh and blood."

As the crew set about recording samples of the soul speak, Danny couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. He did know how he felt about humans at large getting their hands on ghost speak. He just hoped it wasn’t ever tied back to Amity or the GIW.

***Back at NASA after they read over this new information*****

Meanwhile, back on Earth, NASA scientists were scrambling to make sense of the recordings they'd received. They huddled around computer screens and speakers, straining to hear the strange, ethereal sounds that emanated from them.

But try as they might, they couldn't make heads or tails of it. The audio was scrambled and distorted as if something was interfering with the transmission.

"It's no use," one of the scientists sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration. "We can't make out a single word."

But despite their best efforts, the recording remained an indecipherable scramble—no software or algorithm could make sense of the noise. It became clear that whatever magic Dantom's voice carried was impervious to their technology; soul speak could not be captured, not with any device known to NASA.

“Send a report back to Ares and ask them to try again,” Teddy ordered when he was given the report of how the scientist failed to study the recording successfully.

*****Back on Ares III******

Beck watched closely as Dantom, before speaking. They had just asked the kid if he knew why they were having trouble recording his language. Vogel stood ready to translate.

"̸̛̻̫̦͔͉̗͚̥͇͔̮̟͍̺̜̩̉̐̒̀̑͛̉̒̾͊̽R̴̬̟͈̮̲̃̑͒͌e̸̡̙̤̭̬͔̪̮͒̇̈́͋̏̽̂̈́̔̏̇̑͛̀́͜͝͝c̸̨̝̮͇̤̼̹̹̳̳͆̇́̄̏̏̈̈́͛͗̑̅̅̚͝ͅo̴̧̧̱̠̣͓̜̪̓͛̔̈́͛̿͠ŗ̶̠̼̭͕̜͖̠̒̎͌d̴̬̫̑̂̄͋̎̈́̊̄̓͆̓̚͘͝ȋ̴̞̣̭̺́̀̋̿̍͝ͅņ̶̺̞̊g̵̢̹͕̤͎͍̗̟͑͗͛͂͊͐̃́̇̂̆͘͘̕͜͝ͅ ̷̨̮͖̞̦̞̣͙̠͇̟̈́̈̐̆͐͂͂̋͛ͅs̵̡̡̢̱̰̹̹̱̩̫̺͎̞̯̠̞̈́͒́̆̓͋̒̋͑̄͝o̷̦̝̽̐̈̿͑̇̿́́̂̀̚̕̕ù̸̗̲̺̙͖͖̩̙̞̎̈́̅̏̀̇͊̓̀̒l̵̛̰̜̺̑̊͆̈͛͆̃̇̂́͑͘͠ ̸̧̢̲̯̻͙̙̫͖̋̀̀͑̋̆̇͂͊̃̊s̸̡̟̬̠̱̯͚̭̫͋p̷̨̮̙̘͓͚̩̻̦̰̲̯̥̲͂͌e̴͍͆͐̅͑̌à̶͔̩͓̻̯͖̍̔͑͜k̸̡̟̫͕̦͖̪͖͇̬̤̝̗͒̾̆͝,̷͍̮̜̮͎̥̻̀͐̽͂͐͂̆͊͘͝ͅ"̵̢̥͍̳̘̦̯͐͠ ̴̧͉̜͕̲͓̄̋̀́

Danny began cautiously,

"̶̧̬̰͕̑̂̆i̴̡̛͓̤͔̗̦̳̘͉̲̼̲̮̾̅͋̌͆̈̃̐͊̈͛̔͜͜͝͝s̸̭̲͓̞̋̒̌̉̀̔́̇̽͌̔̋̋͒̊̒͝n̵̢̨̘̲͔̳̼͍̙̣̰̄̀̀̅̈́̊ͅ'̸̢̛̘͔̳̪̼̫̙̱̠̥̰̼͉́͋͛͊̓̃͐͊͆̅̋͘̕͝͝t̷̡̡̰͖̫̽ͅ ̸̪̪̜͉̠̯̟͍̥̗̙̺̥̆̍͑͂̔̋̾̆̈́͠͠͝l̸̛̠̳̥̰̈́̑͊͗̃̂̑̽͐̅̂̈̈́̊̚̚i̶̢̩̘͙͔̥̰̣͎̩̖̫̘͕̒̈́̂͐͝ͅk̴̡͙͈̮͉̟̝̞̈ę̴̨̟̤̠̠̥͙́ ̶͕̋̈́͋̓͂̈̓̒͆͗̏̽̈́̚c̷̨̡̢̧̩̯͉̩͓̼̹̪͍̟̱̀̀̒̍̃͐̓̾̈́́͗̈͆͛̇͆̕ͅä̴̡̯̯̳̐̅͂̈́̉͑̍̎̅̈́̍͘͜͠p̴̡̝͇̞̥̠̆̌̏͆̓̀́t̴̟̤͐̄͛̎̈́́̈̽̌̌͊̀̾́̚͝ų̶̞̬́̒̑̈́̂̎͒ŗ̸̘̭̭̪̥̂́̀́̓̾̈́͋͂̓̈́̽͠į̸̗̥̝̼͍̿͋͒͒͗̀̍͑n̸̨̮͇̓̌̽͂̊̐̌̈̊̂̓̌̿̈́̓̕̕͜g̸̨̧͇̲̬͙͈̰̹̞̺͕͕̮̓͗͌̈́͊̈͂ ̷̢̨͇̼͓͚̗̘͇̞̻̰̥̗̇̆͊̔̀́̐̾͑̑͊̕͝ń̷̢̀̂̎̏͐̓́̑̄̾͂͊̏͘͝͝ơ̶̘̲̼̪͙͎̺̰͍͊̾̀͑̏̑̆̒̆̈́̾̊r̶̢̮̯̮͓̺̲̯̹͍͇͉͎̈́̀̐̂͑̈́̓̽̏͆̅̊̆̕͘͜m̷̧̢̲͔͖͉͉̘̘͚̜̞͇̿͋̈́̓̿̈́̈͆͒̇́̚̚̕͝â̶͇͙̳̼̯͌͐̋̈́͒̃̉̈́̿̾̒͝ļ̷̧̛̞̭̺̮̰̮̹͕̣̭̞̋͗̄̐̑͆̚͜͠ͅ ̵̲̜͊͂̽̎͗̈͝ả̶̙͆̔͐̓̂͘͝ǘ̷̧̢͖̟͎͓̼̤͓̣̩̔́͑̐̕ͅd̶̟͆̿̄̈̇͗̀̄̋͗͂̂͆̀͠͠i̸̗͑̏͛̈́ǫ̵͔͖͙̘͈̏̊̑̅͂̋͛.̴̡̝̠͕͚̤͚̳͉͓̺͇͔̰̜̀̏͑̀͠ͅ ̸̧̡͈̱̩͎͔̻͍̹̲̫̤̯̯̖̉̀̏̈́̔̏̾͌̿̀̚͘I̸̡̛͊̂̐t̵̳̩̤͍͔̻̹̼̯̮̱̻̺̽̍̆͘'̵̛͚̠̣̝̩̹̐̊̀͒̎̅͐͗̐̿̕̚͝s̴̛̰̭͓̙̣͓͌̀͆̈̈́͗̈́͋͊͘͜.̶̦̰̠͔̘͓̂̌̅̉̒̀̾͆̐̋͋͑̈́͑̓̑̈́.̴̤̦̟͔̣̏͑̊̅̆̕.̶̨̨̨͈̦̘̟͔̮̬͓̭̇̆̀͋ ̴̛̯̭̗̲̳͇̪̖́̈̎̌̀̄͑͋̾̎̋̿͘͝e̴̟̦̞̼͇͗̔͆́̊̈́̐̉͂̕̚͜͝p̵̡̡͕̖̞̰̯͇̻̰͔̗̋̓̋͋͋́̽͛̅͋͛̚͝͝ḣ̷̨̺͖̗̪̞̣̤̗͔̣̝̜̜̱͓́ͅě̸̫͕̻̈͊̂̽m̴̥̹̩̤͖̰͛̑̐̈̿̆̿̐̐̃͘͝ę̵̜͙̟̪͉͇͔̱̣̟͔̳̳̝͈͔̔́͂͌r̶̡̬̘̙͔̬̩͕͖͇̩̞͖͍̆̃̈́̓́͌̄̏̈́͝ͅͅā̷̲̩̟͖̳̺̲̝̬̪̀̐͆̀̋̂͜ĺ̵̡̯͕́͜,̶̢̧̨͓͉̤͉̹̮̯̭̻̒͝ ̴̢̖͔̼͓͈̻̻̰̪̲͓̦̫͖̒ͅt̵̛̥̤̒̍̓̈́͗̇̐̔̕̚͝i̸̩͔̣͎̮̞͈̜̤̇͛̍̒͊̀̾e̵̹̬̓͗̏d̸̞̻͎̼̩̬̥̞̞͔̺͎̭̺̑́̿̚͜͠ ̸͖̰̯̻̹̳̦̊̋͐̉̀̎̈̎́̄͌͊̊͘ṱ̷̥̼͚̔̾͆̽͒o̶̢͈̯͙͋ ̸̡̨͓͙̟͕̟̼̲̔̄͂̉͆̈́̊̈́͑̕͘͝͠͝t̴̢̢̨͔̭̜̗͖̣̣͍͊̋̓͆̽̓͋́̈́͋̅̇̽͛̽̎͜͝ͅͅẖ̴̢̣̱͎̯̺̞̊ȩ̶̞͉̫̬͎͉͉̤̤̞̬̠͔͙̠͋̀͂̄͊́̅͑͒̈͆̓͝ ̸̘̻̖̰́͋͋͌͊̒̍̀̈́̽̊́͘͝͝ę̵̧̱̰͐͊͊̊̍͑̊̏̈́́̚ŝ̵̩͆̈̓͐͗͗́̿̒͋͒͆̚s̸̡̡̼̞͔̺̎̏́̏̒͂͂̓̄̐̏̌̉͋̚̚͠ȩ̵͉̪̹̬͉̓̆̃̇͠ņ̸̧̧̫̹̮̼͓͍̳̭͚̩̜͉̈́̈͑̌̐̀͑c̴̛̼̩̙͈̮͓̬̙̮̘̘̖̀̐̅͑̌͂̿̍̾̓́͗ȩ̸̨̹̗͔̟̘͙͖̿͑̄̐͠ ̸̢̢̲̮̝̹̲̱̻̪͍͚̰̫́̓̾̏̊͠ͅǫ̵̭̮̮̻͎̝̠̇͌̒̌͒̎͋̍̐͑́̂̚͠f̶̡̢̧̟͈̻͚̤̳̪̓̅̈̈́̓̋̽͘ ̵̛̛̼̪̠̜͚͂̓̔̋̈͌͜b̵̡̡̡̧̝̺͉͔̹͈̼͙͇̞̿̾́͑̑̀́̌́̀̔̐̈́̔̚͜͜͜ȩ̴̡̤̗̯̭̬̟̬̲̩͔̗̊͊̔̍́͌͂̈́̓̇̑̽͑̽̏͠ͅi̷̡͍̊̐̾̋͂̿͊̓̈́͑͒̌̍̃͘̕͠ǹ̴͔͙̫͈̰̺̹̞̫̳̥͈͓̭̣̥̇̓͜͝g̵̨̠̩̣͔̖͖̪̗͕͉̏͑̆̄͛̉͆̉͘.̵͓͈̱̓̈̔̑̔̀̽͋͆͑̇̽̍̚͘ͅ ̶̩̤̫̗̟͖̺͖̺̋ͅY̴͇̮̝͇̳̘̥̪̪͆̉ͅǫ̸̳̮͙͉̗̪̮͇̆̒͋̏̀͠ũ̸͉̹͚̐͘ ̵̡̞̼̺̫͖̺͉̒̋̾̿̊͌͑̚n̴̻̣̳̼͋̓̑͛̍͐́̀̈́̇̈̃̾e̷̬̖͑̔̔ͅȩ̴̰͉̖̖̲̱̔͛͗̽͋͐͊̈́̽̊̍̒̊̊̚͘͝d̷̩̱̲͎̼͉͕͖͉̩̗̤̭̰͖̊̒͒̀̓͊ͅ ̴̲͍̭͓̬͍̟̝͙̩̭͎͖́͗̐͂͌̂̃͘͜s̶̨̡͔̳͙͙͇̗̩̯̟̭̩͕̻̆̎̽̀ṕ̴̡̛̛̱̣̠̤̙̲͕̹̙͕̲̮͉̋̃̇͛͒͒̿͋̽̇̌͛ȩ̵̧̛̺̪̪͓̼̑̀̎̐͛̌̊̑͗͂͐̎̿̏́̿ċ̶̲̰͚̼̖̭̄̃̂̈̔͛̈̃̊̅̚͜͝i̴̡͙̬͔̰̗̮̥̫̺͕̞̖̞̠͚̜̾̐̀̄̓̔ą̸̰̣͚̦̮̻̝̝̑̀̆̽͑́͒͌̈̃͝l̵̡̩̫̫̲̮̝̰̙̲̩̹̺͛̀̽͘î̸̙̲͖̑͆̈́͜z̸̺̝̈́̿̑͘ẹ̸̤̩̔̈̓̉͝d̶̛͓̽̍̆̽̽ ̷̢͓̳̩̱̟̙̋ĕ̴̢̛̛̛̜̹͈͚̞͙̲̠̹̬̝̱͊͑́͐̏̍̒́̕̕͜͜͠͝q̷͚̱͈̖̘̟̗̠̺̰̔̏̓̋̔̊͌̚̕ͅù̴̧͂́͋̑̍͛͜͝ī̷̢͉̞̞̦͔̱̜̣p̶͙͙͊͊m̸̢̛̛̒̿̆̎̋̅̅̈͌͌̍͘ë̵̺̯̯̭́̀̏͂͆̈́̌̔̋̀̀͊̅̉̕͠͝n̴̢̝̹̲̥̬͈͎̰̏̒̓̇͋̋͑̀̿̇̀̓͌̇͜͠ţ̶͙̫̭͕̼͖͕͕̟͎̤̺͖̞̽̔̋͊͐̃̀̔̌̿̕̚͝ͅͅ,̴̧̡̮̙̠̬͍̣̟͇͈͙̄̍̇̌̈́̋͐̇ ̴͚̥̺̳͔̘̯̳̝̪̈́̑̅s̸̨̡̖̗̭̰̠̞̟̖͉̙͒͂̊͑͒̉̀̌͘ô̷͍̿͗̈́͐͛̉̽͐̈̐͝͠m̴̞͍̩͙̗̂͐̉̾̒͆̓̈́͑́̂̇̂e̸̼̲̘͎̤͉̗̪͛̄̋͝t̵̡̜͈̺̬̝̙̅̇̎̂͆͊͊́́̽̍̈͛̀̕͜ḧ̷͉͖̮̤̯̘͓̘͔̮̰̲́̉̈́̾̿̎̃̊͊̓́̌͜i̷͔̫̳̼̝̜̟̓̾̋̈́͗̀͝ṅ̵̨͖̜̞̗͈̲͕̫̩̊̏̈͜g̸̢͕̮͂͆͛̒ ̴̨͓̭̭̱̳̭̘͍͎̖̱̱̝̪̭̉́͂̌̉̓ȃ̴̢̨̢̛̖̰̞̭̪͙͉̫̯͖̖͋̑͒̂̀͊̅͝ͅt̴̢̡̠̲̬̼̞̰̥̠̔ţ̴̡̻̱̦̘̰̙̠̟̺̼̲̬̾̋̕͜ͅù̵͔̥̬̥͉̼͖̞̙̬͉̹̻̏͝n̶͎̠̘͉̹̳̮͎͖̩̯̜̯͚͐̓̄͊̿̅̏̑̋̓̉̂͝ë̷͇͖̜͖̯̼̗̦͉̞̫́d̷̢͙̩̰͈͔̭͇̘̃́̾̉̉͠͝ ̶̢̡̢͕͍͖̥̻̖͉̙͓̼̈͆͛͐͂t̷̳̰̬̯̰̘͎̬̑ͅͅö̶̡̜̩̻̬̝͇̺̻́̀̄̍̄̎̿̂̀̋͗̊͘̕ ̵̪̟͑̋͐͆͐̐̔m̵̛͓͇͍̘̠͊̍̋̋̒͐͝͝õ̸̡̞͈̫̤͔͍͕̹̻̥̜͔r̵̨͙͔̻̘͚͚̲̂͒̈̿̉̂͑̽̈́̕͝è̵̱̀͂̉́̄̓̅͆͘͘͝ͅ ̶̲̄̀̆̑̿͑̏̏͊ţ̸̢̥̻̺͖̭̱̹͎̅̅̉̽́̋͛͛͝͝ḩ̶͚͔̣̰̭̪̼̼̹̺̻͍̟̙̘͒̃̀͆̆̿̈́̔̏̉̊͂͝ͅa̷̡̛̮͇͍͎͍̲̝͙̙̩͚̖̱͛͗͐̎̾̕͝ͅñ̷͖̫͚͚̝̮̦͔͚̐̓͛̏̅͝ ̸̨̢̻̠̣̥̼̹̞͔̫͙͖̲̰͠ǰ̶̢̡̺̮̻̳͎͍͈̞̘͒̒̒̚͜ų̸̧͇̺̖̝̲̭̺̌̇̓̑̾̀͌̐̌̈ś̶͖̤̦̙̱̝̪̳͎̄̌͊͒̍͑͐̈́͜t̴̻̬͖̒ ̸̢̬͙̯̳̮̣̼͕̖͇̭͔̂̎̈͗̔̕p̵̨̧̘͓̰̟̹̖̖͚͚̬̜̫̩̟͂̒̆̓̔͐̑͠h̵̟̣̣͎́͑͒͆͗̽́͗̋̅͘͘ͅy̵̧̛̖͕̖̬͚̬̬̠͌̿̉̔̿͐̌̿͛̄̉̓̈́s̶̢̛̺̠̞̰̝͌̂̓͌͊́̃͆̿̌̀͆̎̍͝͝ͅį̵̟̻̯̹͔̰̙͈̌̅͛̀̏͑͆̓̿͗͘̚͜͜c̵̤͝ä̵̢̝̳́̑͐͊͆̏̑͐̀̉̆̽̈́l̸̟̫̑̔͋͐̈́́̑̓̽̂̕ ̸̡̨͍̰͖̾̇̍̔̾̇͒̂͆́̈̂̃́̂͘͘v̷̻̥́̀̄̔͒͂̿̌̿̽͑į̸͚͍̗̥̯̳̳̱̫̮̀́̒̌̀͑̾͑͂̚͝b̶̥̣̤̥̬̙̦͎̖̲̤̳̯̬̮͑͐̊́́͑̑͋̍͆̉͠͝ͅͅr̵̗̥̝͓͉͇̟͋̇̊͐̏̾̓̋̆́͛̾̚͠á̸̢̺̤̟̻͙̦̞̻͔̮̣̜̔͂̅̔̅̊́̇̅̿̈́͜t̴͇͉͌͑̌̈́̑̕͝͝͝ȋ̸̡̧͙̠̘͖̀̅͒̇̃̕͝ở̶̮̰̻͎̜͍̺̣̮̒̊̀̀͐͐̾̓̆̀̎͜͠͝n̶̢̗̬͊͊̿͘͝s̵̻͎͙̘̝̻̰̯̬̦̹̗̎́́̀͂̓́̀̍̄̀̕̕͝.̶̡̡̨̛̻̭̗̮̭͕͉̦̭̭̤̝͓̊͗͑̔̅̌̈́̋̽̒̉͘͜"̷̺̻̠̣͔̗̋͒

"And you don't know how to build such equipment?" Beck asked gently, trying not to push too hard.

Danny shook his head slowly,

(̵̡̨͉̦̖̙̘͍͍̈́̑̏͜ͅ"̶̡̞̩̗̺͍̫̟̯͑̌̅̈́̅̇̉̈͌̽̈́̔̾̀͜͠͠Į̶̪̬̫̞͉̣̤̄̂̀̉͌͊͆͌̚'̶̛̛͕̟̣̜̲̞̦̪͕̟̓̒͂̓̎̉̆̅̾͝m̶͈͚͙̘̌́̉͑͂̊́̃͛̓̂̕ ̴̱̈̿̌̉͘s̶̡̥̤̯͓͍̯̖͚͕̗̪̱̈́̂̑̽̈́̍̏̈͂̐ǫ̷̛̮̳̟̓͛͛̿͗̎́͊̄̆͗͌̐̕̚͝r̴̛̪͌̇͂̊̽r̷͔̟̖̟͕̯͉̜̞̩̗̬̩̣̅͂͑̊̀͂̀̆̄͜y̶̞̙͍̣̬̱̩̹̙͍̰̥̿̃̃̈́͊͆͌̉͂̊̍̐̋.̶̨̧̛̹̭͚̹͖͍̠̣̻͌̔̿̄ͅ ̶̛̛͕͙͎͎̠̲̭̹̣̘̟̥̯̳͉͈͌̄͑̽͊̃̾̉̋͂̚͘͝͝ͅĮ̸̡͕̟̬̲̫̖̲͓̹͙͔̲̦̈́̕t̶̢̡̡̖̦͈̟̫̰̦̰̳́̑͂͜ͅ’̵̨̫̤̠̺̠̙̮̺̙͍̙̽̈́̌͒̆̍̆͆͋̑̄̈̔̓͠͝s̴̡̢̫̠͙͓̹̟͊̄̔͛̕͝ ̸̧̧̗͎̱̰̟͍͖̥̊͌̉̎̚͝͝͠b̷̥̟͕͙͔̲̠̩͍̬̥̙̙̎̿͋͋̓̌͊̈̍̏͒e̸̲͌͐̔͐̂y̴̹͙͈͎̾͂̂͑̽̄̂̽͑̎͂o̴͈̞̤̽͑͂̽̓͂̾͌̚͝ǹ̵̡͙̊̑͠͝d̵̨̨̡̺͎̟͔̯͖̥̲͔̗͔͗̽͊̏͊̄̔̎̋̉̈́͘͜ ̶̧͔̜̠̪̝̠̭̞͔͚̻̖̲̞͙̅̇͗͒͋̀̚͝w̷̨̺̬̹͕̬͍̃͆̂̊͘͝h̸̪̞̺̆͂͑̈́͆̄ȁ̴̹̤̫̪̖̞̅̓̋t̶̡͍̘̙͉̹̭̱͔͋̂̈́̽͌̈͐̄̈ ̷͉̝͔͔͓̱̂̂̑̐̈̾̌̀͗̿́̊͐͘͠͠͝I̵̢̨̡̙̻̦̻͔̫̝͍͋̅̋̔ ̴̞̭̳̘͕̮̈̾͊̐͌c̶̬̲̙͖̺̟̅̿͗̅͑̎̋̓̑͐̾̕̕a̴̛̛̬̟̬̓̀͒̒͊͌̇͝͝n̴̗͇͕̳͇̥̆́͐̌̃̈́͑̽̐̾̎̽͐͑̕͘͜͜͝ ̷̨̛̫̣̰̣̰̗̦̘̠͓͓̘̬͕̝̟̈́̿̓̏̔͝͠d̴̗̗̮͒͛̽ǫ̶̧̛̫̱̱̓̔́͊͌͂͌͂͂̈́̈̑͂̐͘͘.̷̧̛̛̮̠̳̱̪̦͈̖̣̜́̋͛̌͒̆̑͋̉̎̃̿͘̕͠"̶̨̯̝̝̃̄̒̄̒̽͆̉͛̃̌͜͝)̵͕͕̥̪̃̇̀̔́̋̿̏̂̇ͅ

It was a half-truth. He knew his parents had invented various gadgets to detect and analyze ghostly phenomena, including their unique language. But he couldn't exactly whip out a Fenton Translator without raising many awkward questions. Also, he wasn’t sure if he could make one. Granted, some of his parents’ translating devices were not very good either. Always adding ‘fear me!” Or “Boo” at the end.

"Dantom," Lewis started, "how did you come to be here? Was there a ship? Should we be looking for others?"

Danny’s gaze shifted to the metal floor, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of the medical blanket draped over his legs. When he looked up again, there was a vulnerability in his eyes that hadn't been there before. He took a deep breath.

"̸̡̜̞̬̻͙̣̋̈̇̈́̈́̀͋̈́͌͌̀̄̔ͅT̸͍̠͙͉̮͖͉̘̠̬̺̲̻̺͔̗͐̍̇͆̔̿̍͒̑̓̚̚͘͝h̴͓͋e̶̡̗͈̺̱̱͍̩͇̻͖̮͒̈́̔̈́͑̅̏̃͘̚r̷̡̢̻͈̤̼̦̙͎͍̮̅͛̈́͗̂̏̀̔̓̿̇̃ë̸̢̡̦͖̩́̐̅̉̃̔͒̐͂̕̚͘̕̚͜͠'̶̢͚̩̭̞̯̱͚͙̜̱͇̥̺̲̈̀ṣ̵̡̼̘̭̣̲͙͐͊́̎̒̅͛ ̶̢̡͎͉̩͕̰͓̮̊̈́͐̇̑̿̉̋̇ņ̴̢͉̤̠̣͔̼̫͖̘͚̰̜̞̺̱͊͋̐͂̉̏̍͌͗̑͛̀̉̐̕͠͠ơ̷̢̯̻̄͌̑̓̈́̚̚ ̵̩̜̭̤͉͉̩͆̽́̀̃̐͗̌̃̎͆͌̂͊̇́͝ş̷͉̜͈̯̭̩̹̯̙̫͖̰̇͗̏́̆̽̍̒̑̎͐͑̉̈́̚͠h̷̯̰̙̰͐͋̈́͆̊̇̿͗̐̈̊͒͘i̶͙̺͌̆̒͂̏͠p̶̗̏,̸͖̗̈̍͝͝"̶̢͚͚̹͕̱̓ ̴̢͔̦͙̮̺̘͕̳̗̯́̿̀̅̈́̉̓̉͝͝͝ͅh̴̟͇͚͓̺̃͂̓̅̀̆̈̀̈́͛̀̓͒̾̕͝͠e̵̡̖͎̗̻̝͕̲̟͂͒̃̈̂̿̒̔̽̍͝ͅͅ ̴̡͚͕̹̦̬̏̅̊͐̒̇͆͂̒̀̒̀́͊͝b̷̮̙͚̙̩͓̙̐͒̊̅̌̑͌̈́͗͒̓͗̚̕͠e̸̛̖͉̫̻̫͖̖̬͍̤̥͚̞̮̦̔̐̾̿̇̂͛͑̑̈́̇̋ģ̵̡̻͎̱̲̖̠̳͕̹̓̂̎̏̊͊̓̃͛̽̌͐̀͌͐a̵̙͍̮̮̪̖̱̙̳̮̤̘̯͐̆̆̇͊̅́͒̈͋̊̂̇̆̚n̶̫̮̗̮̟͍̜̰͍̲̓̾̿̊̿͂͂̓̚ ̵̛̳̘̱̭̤̭͎̦͙̱̞̗̙̥͕̗̆̔̈́͆̋̏̆͜ş̷̡͔͉͓̹͙̣̫̱̮̬͚̬͈̼̽͐͒̑̎̒̋́̇̆͘̚͜ļ̵͓͇̝͉̥̖͚̞̯̩̼̈́͊̐̀̔̎̋̑͑́̕̕͠ͅǫ̷̡̤̪̭̝̟̲̞̯̹̩̠̈́̈́͛̅̓̈͊̓͛͘͘w̷̡͚͕̪͉͌́͂ļ̶̪̻̳̝͔͍̝̪̗́̒̿̄͒ŷ̷̨̢̦̪̪̣̤͈̳̟̺̥̭͊͋̃̈́͒͛̅̈́̿͗̐̈̓̈́͘,̷̨̞̪̩̠̦̒̈́͑̌̓̍̓́̏́̒͋̃̀̚ ̵̢͓̦̰̠̺̻̙̬̼͇͔̲̭̯̫̂͋̇̽͊̉͐̈́̒̔͊̏̕̚̚̚"̸͖͇̖̝̙̰̼̗͖͑͂͛̌̂̒̄̇̔̈͝Ï̶̛̳̝̻̙͍̯͕̦̤͓̀̃̚’̸̧̠̳̪̞͖̟̹͖̈͌ͅm̸̢̢̻̬̣͎͚̭͇̝͉͇̩͈̲̙͆̄̀̉̀̄̾̄̋͑̓̀͛͘ ̷͎̼̯͇̥̜̦̖͉͎̆̈͐̓̃̆̒͘f̴̞̭̳̩̞͎̥̥̺̹̞̙͍͆̐͐͆̿̅̂̎̓̇̑̈́̂͜͝r̶̢̝̳̼̰͍͍͖̭͕͈̲̈́̑̉̄͗͌͜͠͝ơ̴̹͉̙̼̅̌͑͠m̶̧̛̗̟̜̺̗̹͕͙̭̺͓̈́͌̊̌̆̌͋͑͗͋̅͐̈́̕͠͝…̴̬͓̑̆̾̐̀̊͐̅͊̚ ̶̡̢̛͓̈̄̈̋͌̃̾̈́̿͒̇ả̶̬͎͊͂͋̍͋́͗ ̸̧̙̳̬̻͖̲̻̳̮̭͒͊͂̐̔̉́̎͗͑͠ḑ̷͍͎̼̹̗̘̺̝̤̣͌́̍͌̾̆͐̅̏̕̚ͅͅi̷̡̡̖͔͇̰̘̺̥̫̾̓͌̈́̀͆̽̋̽m̸̖͎̀̄ȩ̸͔̞̪̥̫̳͙̊̏̒̍̕ͅņ̶̟̣͚͕̟͙̺̝̦̠̟̊̏̀̓͒s̷̤̠̙͖̩̍ͅͅi̶̪̯͗ô̸̧̡̡͈̤̪̭̲̮̇͐̿́͊̽̈͑̔̓̚͜͠͠ņ̵̢̧̱̪̘͉͓̟̼̲̼̮̿͂̽̍͛̊ ̸͚͙̱̙̰͖̥͚̇̆͆̾̈̔͛̉̄̕c̶̡̝̮̻͂̌̈́̄͆̌͆̓͗̈́̄̂̚͝ã̶̛͇̰̈́̏͒́͌͐̓̕l̷̨̢̥͎͖̗̪͎̰̫̪̠̞͆̆̄̓̎͗͜ḻ̴̺̺̞̹̟͚̹̟̈̃̆̽̀̈́̍̓̎̾͜͝ẻ̴̢̡̦̝͙̫̖̣̹̯͇̮̦̲̦̻̂̄̈̓̋͊͛͑̃̐̈͂̾͠ḏ̴̨͉̮̼̣̪̮͓͎̙͇͙͕͗͆ ̴̺̙̮̯͕̼̝̏́͂͂̽́̋̈́̒̽͜͝ṫ̶̡ĥ̵̲̫͉̖̫̳̰̠̥ȩ̶̛̮̜͇͔̪̹͓̩͇͖͇̳͂̿͗́̀͋͊̾̈́̕ ̸͔̼͍̔̏͛̿̂͑̀̔̿i̴͍̮͉̭̮̰͛͌́̓͐́͂̽n̵̡̺͍̫̦̠̰̼̠̘͍̈́͗̒͋̍̉̓̂̃̔͆̈́͘̚͝f̶̡̮̠̪̞͍͍̟͎̦͉̌̀̾̈́̑͊̄̔̚͘͜͝ī̷̮̮̜̞͚̳̗̱͙̟̟͓̄̍̓̑̓͒̔͒̋̾̾̑̿͗̈ṇ̶̡͇͉̦͛̿̉̔̊́̈́̏ͅį̶̨̧͙̘̥̝̻̪̠̄̍̊̽̾̏͋̆̓̐̕t̷̢̞̝͇͑͜y̵͙̞̲̤̮͍̠̬̻̙͈̾̃̉͜͜͝ͅ ̶̛͚͕̰̺̭͍͖̟͙͌̈́̏̀̐͜r̵̢̧̧̛͍͇̣̩̞̙͕̲̯̝̳͐́͑̃̍͌͗͘ȩ̵̻͕̫̖͕̅̈́̀̇͂͋̈́͆͋̓̆̍̈́̕͝ḁ̸̻͛̀͌̄͗̀́́l̶̨̨̧̺̠͙͇̱͕͂̌̚ͅm̴̡̨̗̥̖̲̩͖̖͎̘̩̰̗̪͐͒̃̀́͗̈́̅̉̄̈́́ͅ.̸̛̛̛̦̻͖͈̃̓̀̍̑͗͌̈͑̚͝ ̴̢̤̤̲͍̮̙̀͐̋̿̐̀̑̆̇͐͘̕̚͠I̸̜̟̍̀̿́̓̎̔́͂́́́̕̕͜͝͠ ̵̨̣̟̼͕̙͎̬̗̺̳̻̬̩͐̓͐̕͜ͅͅf̴̧̯̗̝̺̦̯̣̈͆͊̽͝ē̸̡̲̺͇̱̗̥̭̣͔̋̌͗̊̀̋͑̚ļ̴͍̘̗̙͕̱̾͐̅͆͒̅l̴̛̻̽͌͂ ̷̧̻͎͇̩̤͕̺̣̭̼̟͓̤̈́̽͗̂͋͊̄̓̏́͝ţ̴̧͓͈̭̖̝̝͔̤͛̉̃͒͑͛̂̓̑̋͗h̸̢̨̲̹̳͍͕̗̩̦̘͚̬̳̰̄̏̀̂͆̌̌̎̔̽͂̓̽͆̕͠͝ŕ̶̟͚̹̼̝͂́́̈́͊̅͘͝o̴͈̦̩͉͎̽̅͂͆̾͠u̵̟͈͊̆g̸̢̛͇̤̠͎͈̦̻̥̏̃́͒̆h̴̢̜̟̲̤̖͈̓͒̔̈́̿̂̍͐̆̑͘͝ ̴̲̫͚̮̫̦̭͙̯̼͔̤̐͋̚̕͜͠ͅͅa̷̢̨͎̖͉̥̼͓̼͓̫̺̞̝̍̾͑̆͌͆́̽̌̒̚̚͝ͅ ̵̡̨̨̜̘͖̜͔̟̩͎̫͗̽̈̆͑̃̆̎̔͛͆̀̇͜͠͝w̴̘̦̦͖̟̺̥̅́͋͜i̴̛̖̦̹̋̄͐̃̆͌̇̒̅̽̆l̴̡͓̳͈̞̖̱͎̘̯̅̑d̸̢̬̳̖̜̻̫̹̤͝ ̸̩̗̝̺͙͎͕̜͈͔̩̯͚͇͚͑̈́̍̈́͗̌̒́͗p̶͍͔͈͙̫̐͋͌̈̆̆o̴͖̱̹̅͑͛͑̏̇̓͆̿̒̐̚͜r̷̠̪̭̝̮̥̿͠ͅt̷̡̨̳̖͈̮̺̪̠̼̊̒̾̊̔̊͂̋͗̒͊̔̈́̍̓͗͜ḁ̷̪̠̼͈͇̙̳̜̬̥̯̈́͛̀̓̋̊͑͌͠l̵̢̢̛͕̜͔̲͍̹̦̣͙̭̬̦͈͓̔̀̂̂̍̔́̀͐̾̕.̸̡̢̙̝̻̻̫͇̣̺̼͉̪̺͉͓̠̎̄͗̈́͆̉̇̈̓͆̊̒̈́͌̚͠͝"̴̡̧̱͚̲̤̞͓͇̱̌͊̿̊͌̈̋̌͂͐͠ͅ

"Wild portal?" Vogal echoed after translating Danny's ghost speech to the rest.

"̶̮̝͇͍͎̯̬̇̓̉͐͒͐͋D̸̨̧̡̛̪̱̤̻̭̩͆̅̀̎͋̑̿͊̎̈́̚͝o̶̡̧̧̤̹̝͔̝̤̠͇̟̠̭̰͌̋̂́̄̀̎͑̂̈̈́͑̿̕͠ọ̶̙͗̄̉̀̉ŗ̸̢̙̅͒̀̓̃͂̾̈̒̓́̂͗͌͘̚ŵ̶̛͇͐̋͊̔̄̆͊̒͑̑̂̀̏͘̚͜a̸͕̫͔̞͛̅͒͐̇̒̓̽̕͝y̶̨̛̺̞̬͖̦͕̫͙̹̫̠̖͍̣̭̆̒́͋́̅̂͌͜s̵̙̑͋́̀̍͒̀̋̈́̂,̴̣̮͈̮̺̰̦̩̫̺̩̼͙́̄̒̂͝"̴͖̮͉̟̘̥̳̯̯̮̣͈̜̯̹͉̍̋̅͆̌̑͊̕ ̵̖͈͗́̃͗͑̈͛͐̅͐̌̌̽̓̓̀̚D̸̫̳̔̑̈̎́͑ͅḁ̷̯̳̫̟̩̲̤̜̜̞͔̿̒͑̔̋͆̈̆̇͋̉͐̎̕̕͜ņ̴̢̧̧̫̞̙̥͖͇͇̈́͒́̿̽̑͒̿͊̚͘̚ͅņ̷̥̥͇̟̫͉͉͎͍̃̊͋͛͐̀͗̽̇̿͊̒̕ͅy̸̺̣͍̪̟̙̠͔̭͙̲͋̾̎͆̌̄͗̑̍̿̉̔͠ͅ ̴̼̥̩͓̟̒̌̈̊́͗́̈́̏̇̒̑̉̾͝͝ȇ̸̦̭̓̋̓͗̈́͊̆̓̒̾̕x̶̢̨͉͉̬̹̯̜̫͕͉̲̹̱̙͌͒͒̏͆͌̋̓p̶̨̧͇̫̬̟͔͔̻̬̭̤͍̭̀̿̃̓͑̈̓̋̐͒̒͌̈͂͌̃͝ͅl̴̨̛̇̿̆͐̀̍̓̋̔̕͘͝a̴̡̬̒̉̒̓́i̴͉͛̀̄͠n̷̛̠̝̻̘͙͔͍̞̋̉͋̃̊̀͒͐͐͘̕͜ͅe̷̢̡̛͎̲̺͒̈́̇͗͠d̸̛̛̮͖̬̩̤̘͔͙̖̜͔̝͇͇͊̉̎̀̌̓̈͗͠͠͝͠,̵̭̂͐̓̇̈́͗̅̿̋̌̈́̏̈͛̓ ̴̢̢̧̰̲͉̆͗̓̅̈́̈́͊̀͑̒͆̀̕͠͝"̵̘̾̾̎̀̅͊͋̍̍̍͘ţ̴̳̲̞̦̺̈́̚͝͝͝h̷̨̲͚̬̻̯͛̑̉̎̔̏̉͑͊̽̋̆̇̕̕̚a̷̮͌̾̒̈́̓͛̌t̶͚͇̼̠̬͓̦̔̽̐̑̆̋̿͊͐̕͘͝ ̸̦̰̯̻̯̪͓͆ͅǫ̶̩̜̯͙̭͍̗̝̼̙̿̀͋̓̕ͅͅp̴̨̛̮͔̅̂e̴̩̘̖͎̓̀́n̴̦̪͑̀̀̇́͋̿̎͝ ̷̞͖̍͂̔̄͋̂̔͠r̴̛͔̫̙͉̤̻̪͓̼̖̭͇̓̄̈͌̈́̋̔̕̚a̴̯͓̭̭̜̺͉̝̥̟̍͌͒͜ͅn̵̢͚̜̣̤͔̼̞͉̰̭̫̮͂͜d̶̡̞̻̺͉͚̟̟͋̉̓̓͊͂̓̚͝ỏ̶̢̧̲̜̱̳̠̼͇̤̈̂͋͋͆͐͆m̶̧͔̫̻͉͔̤̹͋̎́̾l̵̬̘̗͆̅̽y̴̛͕̬̬̻̌͛͊̊̀͗̓ ̵̰̮̬̳̫͇̣̒̈͊͊͑͆̊̈́̾̔̽͋̉͒̈́͠b̸̧̛̹̩͙̫͈̼̟̙͉͓͍͈͂̈́̂̈́̒̓̚͝͠͠͝ę̸̠̰̺͓̭̰̺̮̼̘͛̓́̉͛̌̽̽̊̈́̋͛ț̴̺̩͓͈̮̞͕̯͕͉̹̑͘͘͝͠ẁ̵̛͎̜̺̤̲̘̰̳̞̆̆̒̈́̈́̐̆̑͘͘͘͜e̴̛̬̖̜͚̠̐̑̊̊̉̑̚e̴͚͗͌́̉̈́͆͑̎̈͂̚n̸͒̃͗͛̉̈͒̎̄̕̚͜͝ ̶̧̮̺̩̻͎̤̻͙̥̟̠͆͑̀̿̄ͅm̶̯̦̫̄̅̇̈͂̇͝y̵͈̟̗̳̺͖̭̼̪͙̮̩͈̪̐̀̀͐̀̒̈́͗̓̊̉̒̉̕̕͜ ̴̩̱͔͙͋̽͑̾̈́̄̏̒̈̄͊́̓̅͘͝r̵̪̯̬̤̼̪̀̇̍̄̀̽̉̿̊̈́́͗̑͊̄̅͊ë̷͈̮͍̝͔̹͉̼͉̬͎̞́́͋̏͑̎̓͑͋̕ͅa̸̛̼̫̥͇͍̮̣̗̲̘͛̐̀̀̈́̂̆l̷̡̹̻̮̜̪̲̺̾̓͊́̊̐̔̚̚͜͜m̷̡̡̞̝̎́̂̿̀̊̇̎͆ͅ ̴̨̛̻̼̳͖̟̝̬̼̖̻͊͒̿͐͛̔͒́͠ä̴̱̫͉n̷͍̟̳̠̤̫̦̝̥̋͆̈́d̵̨̖́̏̈́̀̈́̆̿̉̑̎̊̀͌̽͠͝ ̴̯̉̀̌̈́̑̃̈͐̆̿͋̌̍̚̕̚t̶̛̞̗͙̗̪͛̋͊͑̈́͛̐̓̓͊̾͠ḥ̸̘̭͕͊̊̌̇̈͊́̂̎̾̄̕͘̚͝͝͝î̸̢̢̨͓̭͔̤͖̫̮̱͍̬̍̋̍͝s̵̨͍̦̲̝̖̰̠͔̻͉̄̅̓̈́͌̑͛͌͒̍̅̃͑͜͠ ̵̧̗̬̒͗̎̓̌̃̀̉̕͝͝͠ŏ̵͎̱̲̪̈̑̋̕͠͠͠n̵̬̹̼̲̗̣͉̯̫̟͍̏͐͊̌͑̒̓̂͆̽̆́̉̾͋̕͠ę̶̺̯̼̻̩̲͚͈̽̋̐̐̆́̈́́́͛̌̾̄̍̾͠.̴̧̡̺̥͕͔̩̦̩̟̠͓̹̬̩̗̫̃͠ ̵̧̩̹̹̳̙̝̙̻̽͛͑̀͂̄̄̍̽̉̀͋̏̈͐͘͜͝T̶̛̛͕̻̟̤͇̰̎̐̎̀͂̇̉́̋̀̐̕͠͠h̸̡͓̹̩̓̃͊́͑̈e̸̦̪̭̎̎̆̅͛̈́̌͒͆̓̑͂͒̚͠͝ÿ̷̱̩͍̺͍̖̥̼̬͍̭̗̓'̷̢̨̺̼͈̗̰̩̩͚̰̞̥̖̦̅̃̀̿̌̔͛̃̀̈̿̚̕̕̕͠ŗ̴̯̬̻̘̫̰̰͙̝̠̤̟̩̭̕͜ͅę̸̹͍͛̏̈́̅͗̇͌̄͂́́́̑̕͘͝͝ ̷̧͔̘̲̪̺̣͔̼̖̬̦̫͚̙̬͖̇̔̆̉̽̆̄͌ų̸͍̙͇̹̺͓̺̣̈͊͒n̸̼̹̹̤̱͇̪̗̤̹͈̞̞̹͉̰͌̑̀̓͂̃̀͒͘̚̕p̷̢̛̩̲͓̺͎̣̜͔̬̱͇̫̺̒̄̓͌̆͌̒̉͗͋͑̉̅͝ͅr̵̢͕̝̭̯̗̥͉̟̪̞̠̊̉̓͂̂̇̚e̵̛̫͛̔̿͊̀̓̇̊̅̍̓̕͠ḑ̷͚̱̳̪̳̗̻̪̗͕̊̄͊̌̓̿͐̐͌́͒̚͝ḯ̶̢̬̤̩͍̥̥͎͋͗̄͌̓͐̀̉̌̚͝ç̶̧̢̼̠̜͔͓̞͓̓͆͗̚t̴̗̪̰͜͜͝a̵̧̩̲̺̩͓̘̫̞̗͎̤̪̭͂̾͆̔̂́̒̌̇̚͝b̵̦̰̯̬̤͚͖͖͎͉̂͒͛́̄̈́͌͝͠l̵̢̨̦̱͍̺̙͖̠͕̲̦̮̓̎̀͆͛̀̓̚ę̵̲̳̪̭̙̗̠̣̲̺̥̗͎͍̀͆̓̇,̶̛̠̲̻͋̄̀̿̓́̅͌̌̓̿͝ ̸̢͎̑͂͆͗̈̊̂̓̆͒d̶̢̡̗̥͓̱̳̭͉̞̦̼͍̗̋͠ǡ̴̭͔͉̮̼͔̺͈͓͈͇͑͝n̴̢̧̡͔̣̯̥̖̋́͐̐ġ̷̡̪̖̰̭̳̞̱̝̲̗̙̩̜̉͗̾̀̽͝͝͝ͅͅę̵̦̝͔̭̯͛͑̐̎̆́͊̉̒͒͜r̴̛͙̎̿̾̏̂͆̽͒̎̎͋̀́̂͗ō̴̡̙̻̰̦̟̙̗̗͓̬̓̅̊̅̊̏̊͌̾͊͗̍̾̈́̕͝ͅù̸̡̧̝͖̖̺͎͖͙̠̙͋̇̈͐̏͒͂̄͜s̵͖̅̅͝.̷̢̛̰̳͕͚͔͙̹̻̝̙̠̻͔̯̙͌́́̓̈́̚ ̴̼̻̹͕̫̲̰̗̭̝̌́͛̚̚͜͜ͅÎ̶̜̦̠̯̦̈́̅̐̓̈́̎f̸͚͂͑͛̓ ̷̢̢̡̨̛͚̣͎͇̪͍̞̹͈̰̌́̀̓̊̕͜ͅy̸̡̬̻̹̳͎̞̮̥͆̇̓̈́̇͝o̶̲̞͚̝̜̟̖̖̠̲͚̗͐̈́̈̋̈́̈́̾̀̂̈́̐̔́͗̔u̴̪̒̕ ̸̻͈̟̫̘̺̺͈̳̦̦́̌́̍̋̋́̌͒͊̈̅̚ͅf̶̢̫̼̲̯̙̝̠͎̝̜͍̥̘̙̔̈̓͒͗͜͜͠á̶͉̫̬̯͙͖̬͇͇̠͇͙̙̼͒ͅl̵͖̞̳͍͖͚͕̿̋̏̈́̓̊̄̑̒l̵̢̨̻͎̹͖̩̟̎͌̔́̌͛͒̾̆͆͠͝͠ ̷̡̬̲͙͚̓̂͌͑̈́̍t̸̛̖̖͑͆̆̔̀̋̂̊͘h̴̛̠̤̼̝̝̎̈̾̓̋̽̑̉͒̇̇̂͂̕͠͝ͅr̴͙̜͛̏͑̐̏̀ǫ̶̭̠̻͇̪͈̞̦̜̰͇̆̈̉̌͜͝u̷̢̞̭͖̖̼͐g̵̢̡̡͎͇̮̖͍͎̭͙̲̜̞͇̓̊̑̈́̔̑̃̌̋̄̒̀͗̔̐ḧ̴̢̡͇̳̞̼̤̮̳̖̪̤̻̮͔͋̓̆̅̿̓̿́͝ͅ,̸̢̙̝̗̟̝͖̖̜̝͙̣̺̦̤̾̆́̆͒̓̔́͘̕͜ ̷̘̮̤̥͔͈̾̓̌̑̈y̸̖̭̺͑̏̐̉̓̀̆̕͝o̷̬̓̈́͌̀̂̑u̴̧̧̧̝͉̟͕̰̜̞͎̭̯͉͇̤͋̑̆͜͝ ̶̻̩͖̜̫̳͇̠̦͖̾c̷̢̡̩̖͈̬͉̦̼̘̘͍̉̉͜ͅǫ̴͇̺̫͖̼̥̭̖̗̞̪͖̮̦̙̈́̋̈̋̽͝u̵̢͚͉͙͍͇̹͉͉͒͂̈́̚l̴̨͎̥̥͇̅͑͆̆͑͂̉̿́d̴͓͙̃͗͆̿̉̐͋̈́̆̿̑̃͆̋͂̚͝ ̸̛̦͎͕̹̋́̀̔͊̍͐̈́̓́͆̀̐͘͝ë̸̩̲̖̹͂̎̽͊͂̐̂̈́̽͒̀͑̒̓n̴͇̈̏̉́͝ḑ̵̛̗͈̩̜̘͕̲̥̮̳̼̈̽̾́̀̽̈́̔̓̈́̌̏̾ ̴̲̉̈́͒́͌̍̇͆̀̐̇͛̅̉͗̽̚ṵ̸̢͎̘̥̗̼̺̲̳̰̰̤̘̺̮̆̒̊̒̌̔̍̀͂͑̋̂͂̍͘͝͝p̴̧͍̙̣̿̉͘ ̷̣̿̔̋̏̈́͌͗͑̍̈́́̄̓͝͠ţ̵̡͕̭̟̠͕̟̣̱̫͇͍̰̙̻͈̉̈́̉͊̿̋͘̕r̵̞̤̲̅̎̀͌̀̋̓̃̊͛͛͆̍͒̚̚̚a̷̛̟͑͛̇̀̈́̐͂͑́͌̀̅̚͠͠p̵̛̱͑̉̆̀͗̇̂͐̕̚ṕ̶̨̢̡̲̦̹͍̩̬͎̭̺͇̪̠̓͊͋͆̒̏̋̽̊̅̓͆̕̚͝e̶͔͕̟͔̾̐̈͛͝d̶͇̦̦̤͇̲̙̣̼̯̪̞̣̞̓̏̿̒͛͜͠͝ͅ.̵͎̞̤̝̣̰̟͗̎͌̚͜ ̷̩̥̻̺͖̙̻̬̗̺̂̓̏̐̋L̴̫̪̗̜̪̤̉͐̃́́̇͋̽͑́͐̎͂͂̊̕ȋ̴̧͖̘̟̺͚͌k̸̛͍͋͐̒͆̎̈͐̃̀̽́͑͋ę̵̨̬̦̘̣̺̫̠̠͇̲͚̬͉̹̀̌̑͋̀̒͋͝ͅ ̵̙̰̪͎̦͖̈́͊̈́̆̎̔̌̈́̓̇̀̍̒̚͘͘͘ḿ̸̬̖͕̟͆͌̿̐̒̈̃́̒̌̀̔̑͘͝͠ē̴̥̆̓̄.̴͕͔̻̩͇̙̭͈̤̪͖̟̓̂͐́͋̀̈́̇͆̚͝"̶̧͇͍̠͕̗͍̺̣͕̌͊̀̿̍̿̉̋͑̔̿̑̚͠͝

Beck observed the exchange, noting the subtle tension in Danny's shoulders. The kid was holding back, and he wasn’t sure why.

"Does anyone control these portals? Could someone have sent you?" Lewis probed.

Danny hesitated, a fleeting shadow crossing his features.

"̷͎̳͚̥̮̱̾́͑̀̌̓͋̉̂̄̔̕ͅN̶̡̨̪̖̂̓̓̄̿̐̋̇̾̕͜ǫ̴̛̩͚̩̯̖̼̗̭̠͔̤̭͒̌̍̈́͋̇̈́̓͐͐̈͠.̶̛̛͇̰̣̲̈́͌̐̆́̍̀̄͒̚͘̚̚ͅ.̷̛͇̝̩̖̱̼̝̭̹͋͗̏̈̾̇͒̃̿̇͐͌͜͝ͅ.̴̻̩̹͍̦̆̆́̋̈́̔̒̀̾̃͗̌̃͐̅ ̵͓̻̱̼̦͚̯̗̱̑̑̿̑̊̆̌͑̎̍̀́͆̈́͘͝į̷̣͍͔̝͍̹̖̻̮͆̓̆̈́͌̽̑͝͠t̷̨̧̢̨̬̜̰̩̘̺̪̖͓̤͊̑̇̋̔͑͌'̴̨̢̡̘̤̭̻̯̝̱̖̣̫̭͕̬̮̾̔͛́͛̈́̇̇͌̉͑͠͠s̴̛̗̙̖̱̩͈͈̝͓̖͕̱̹̿͋̔̈́̆̆̀ ̴̗̥̥͉̣̳̖̲͊ň̴̢̯̹̜̹̘̩̙̺̺̘̻̖̳͕̗̽́̃̈́͐̍̎̎́̇͊̈͜͝õ̷̠͙̬̱̰̠̝̮͙̜͇̱͈̪̂́̔̎̽̊ṫ̷̢̜̳̜̖̲̖̳̤̼͉̮̺̖͋͋̊̈́̀̒̋͑̕͠͠ ̸̲̜̘͚̼̲̲̯̝̼̿͊ļ̵̢̧̙̝͓̠̩͕̮͖͇̠͚̘̉̍̊͊͜i̵̛̱͔̩̳̣͛́̿̀̒͗̍̃̀͒̒̽͂́̇͠k̷̛̭͓̜̟̰̩̻͍̤̤̹̿͊̀̎͆̌͌͌͊̀̆̀̕͝ẻ̶̛̛͙̥̯̐̅̏͑̅͑͒̈́̏̈́̉͒ ̵̧̧̧̧̭̹̲̗̤͕̘̠̣͈̗̣̈͝t̵̡̡̹̙͎͙͉̝͉̭̗͖͗͊͌̈̓̐̊̆̽̃̚͜͝h̶̢̩̻͓̜̥̤͕͎̗̼̰̼̳͖̏͆̃̊̉̄ȃ̷̢̡̧̡̢̛̮̫̩͈̤̭̠̙̤̬̰̽̋́̀͋̋̃͛͊̂̕͜t̷̳̣̤̱͍͓͂́̿͝.̸̧̙̱̜̱̂͂͛̀̊̊̓͌͋̕͘͜ ̴̡̤͇̥̳̀̀̐́̀͑͌͜͝ͅT̵͇͎̯̻̟̟͉͚̱̣̮̦͖̼͚̓̀͗̒̈́̓͜͜ḧ̵̙͓̗́̊͛̓͋͑̍̈̀͒̇͘͜͝e̶̢̝͚̝̲̜̯̩̱͓̖̟̣̝͖̊́́̌̇̌͌̽̍̏̾͊̂̃̀̚ý̵̧̡̯̠̙̥̤̲͔̠͕̙̳͎̱͍͚͗͐̽̀̄̋̒̉̅̿͛̌̈́̈́̚͝'̴̤̼̝͓̇͐́͆̀̽̑̓̿̎̚ŕ̸̡̗͉̩̈́̅̕ë̷̞̘̟͙͚̜̗́̀ ̵̟̺̘͌̌̂̈́̓̽̋̔͘͝͠n̵̡͇̺͔͒̏̅̏̿̎̇́͆̃̔̉̈́̀̄̎̚ȃ̴̧͕̤̹̪̹͐̎̾͐̒̾̊̀͜͠t̵͔̜͓̺̯̳̯͗͌͐͆͗̔̐̈́́̏͐͊̀͗͠͝͝u̶͉͖̥̦͖̻̥̠̖̪̥̾̃͆̆̀́̈́̊͜r̵̛̬̩̗̋͆͛̀̈́͂̑̓̏͌͗͑̈̚͝ͅa̴̡̹͇͕̘̪̬̼̮̬͈̣̮̎ͅl̸̹̹̖̟̠͋̓̊̀̎̇̽̀̈́͝ ̸̙̯͇͕̲͙̗͉̄̀͂̾̀͝p̷̛̩͕̥̿͋̅̆̽̚͜͜h̷̢̡̬̺̦̝̰͇̥͠ͅe̸̘̰̖̭̩̘̽̆n̸̡̦̮̟̦̹̜̟̗͚͚͑̃̋̃̔͂͒̑͂ö̵̙̫̞͋͂̀́̎̄̐̌̑́̉̈̈́̌͘͠ͅm̸̫̋̀̇͑̃͂̃͋̆͌̈́͜e̸̲̓̓̔̓͆̋͌̈́͂͘͠n̸̡̯̤̼̳͙̱̥̣͔̂̓̅͆͒̂̂̍̐̈́͠͝͠͠ͅȁ̵͔̳̪̠̫̙̒̀͜.̴̺̱͉̗̼̯̱̗͔̫͍̼̥̥̘͓̲́̾͛̈́͌̌͐̌̚͠ ̸̻͇̾̃̈̍͠Į̵̡͎̾̿̑̽͂͌̒̈́͌̓͑͜͝͝ ̵̡̡̭͍̝̪̻̺̭̜̺̲̼̗̤̿̎̿̍̋̽̔̔͋͗͝w̶̢͍̞͚̣͛͌̈́̎̿͋̓̓̉̒̅̋͐̅͠ȧ̴̡̨͚̻̮͎̲͎͙̗͓͈̬̘̉š̷̡̙̭̖̠̪͉̟̺̖̄̉̀̈́̈́̇̃́͠͝ ̷̡̡̢̩̹̭̲͓̠̼̗͔̆̍͐̆j̶̨̡͔̘̱̱͇̣̙͓̹̰͙̔̒͠ͅư̷͈͕͍̈̐̽́̑́͋̀͗̓̏̽͂͂̐͘͜ş̶̨̧̼̪̮͕̬̱̩̣̖͔̰̃̿̌̎͋̅ͅt̷̲͚̻̣̼̘̹͓͎͈͈̹̻͖͚̀̎̅̉̈́̃̓͐̍̌̄̓̌̚̕͜.̴͈͓̠̎̓͂͗͆̇̈́̎́͑͛͑̒̍̚͜͝.̵̢̝̲͙̮͕͊̾̀̏̑̉̾͆.̵̘̲̲̙̝̰̯̜͇̰̫̭̤̇̀͋̎̓͘͝ ̷͚̞̜̦̦̞̬̝̤̲̮̅̀̏͗̐̊̽̋͋̓͐̂̽͘u̵͇̻̪̹̮͉̞̺̦̦̱̔̒͛̏͂͌̌̓̑̔͛̓͜ņ̷͉͓̱̙̥̀́̆͛͛̓͑̏͋ͅl̴͇̟͎̻̈́̀̽̈́̿̊̄̅̅͑́̿̀u̸̢͙̤̫̝͍̻̤̔c̵͚̾̈́͑̓͋̑̔́͐͠͝k̶̠̣͎̪̺̝͛̊̓͒̂̕ͅy̸͓̯͖̪̭͆́̌̊́́́̌͑̊̐̅́͛̕.̷̝͔̊́̋̔̈̿͐́̐͆̾͘͝͠"̶̨̢̢̲̗͙̜͚̟͎͈͖̞̳̀̓̃͝

Or, really lucky, that portal saved his life.

Lewis nodded, taking in the information with a measured calmness. "Well, Dantom, it sounds like you've had quite the journey. We'll do our best to help you while you're with us."

"̶̛̼͚̋̒̽̈́́͋̈́̆̕T̷̨̼͖̉̋h̷̡̢͈͇̟̜͌̈́͗̋͌a̷̱̱͑͒n̴̢̨̢̖̙̻̩̳̬̭͓̝̾͗̌́̓̂̎́̎̈͝ǩ̵͚̤̩̼̱̥̞̖̼͈͌̀̃ ̷̹̱̪̹̭͖̪̰̓͂̂͌̓̂̇͘͝y̵̩̱͎̩̮͋̎̉͊̑̃̐ͅơ̷̛͓̫̲̖̿͌̑̍̇̅͗̒̈́͝u̷̡̠͕̣͔̯̬͔̳͎̪̚,̷̨̪͔͇̣̣̣̝̯̜̳̳̯͎̜̳̈́͒͐̂̑́̿͘̚̕͜͝͠͝"̸̝̭̃͌̏̀̀̓̇̃̌̓̈́̊̚   Danny replied, his voice barely above a whisper, but the gratitude within it was clear as day.

Mark leaned forward; his curiosity piqued. "Who hurt you, Dantom?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern. "Was it someone from your side? Like, one of your kind?"

Danny's fingers twitched against the sterile white fabric of the makeshift bandage wrapped around his arm. His eyes darted away from the penetrating gaze of the Ares crew, focusing on something only he could see.

His mind reeled, images flashing through his consciousness like a slideshow set on fast forward. The stark, cold rooms of the GIW facilities, the sharp sting of needles, the relentless probing—each memory sliced through him with the precision of a scalpel. He couldn't bring himself to voice those horrors or make up a lie.

"Guys," Beck interjected, stepping forward. His voice was firm yet gentle, “That’s enough."

Beck moved to stand beside Danny, placing a reassuring hand on the young alien’s shoulder. "He's overwhelmed," he said, meeting the gazes of his fellow crewmates. "The trauma is still too raw, too fresh."

Mark's expression softened, and he nodded, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to push," he mumbled.

"Let's give Dantom some space," Beck continued, his eyes never leaving Danny. "We can try to piece together what happened later when he's ready to talk about it. For now, he needs time to heal, both physically and emotionally."

****

Danny soon found that pretending to be an alien was exhausting work.

The astronauts tried engaging with him in various ways - playing music and showing him equipment and experiments. Danny feigned wide-eyed curiosity, mimicking a child discovering things for the first time.

Danny also quickly realized he needed physical contact to absorb the astronauts' emotions and replenish his ghostly energy. He started finding excuses to cuddle up to them, acting like it was normal in his "culture." The astronauts found it endearing.

Later that night, Danny lay on the narrow bed provided for him in the habitat module. The crew had gradually succumbed to sleep, their breathing patterns deepening into the steady rhythm of slumber. But Danny's eyes remained wide open, staring at the metal ceiling above as he grappled with an unfamiliar hunger that clawed at his insides—a gnawing emptiness that regular food could not satiate.

His half-ghost core pulsed within him, yearning for something elusive that seemed to beckon from the barren surface outside. It was an echoing call that only his spectral side could perceive, a siren song promising both sustenance and solace. They had given him rations—nutrient-packed meals designed for human consumption—but it wasn't enough. Danny needed ectoplasm to heal, to fill the void that yawned within his dual nature. For now, he surreptitiously absorbed the residual emotions of the crew, savoring the faint nourishment of their concern and camaraderie like scraps tossed to a starving animal.

A subtle shift in the air stirred him from his restless thoughts. Danny's ghost sense twitched, a sensation grazing the edges of his consciousness. It was not the sharp, piercing alarm that warned of nearby specters but rather a muted whisper, an echo of something ancient and otherworldly. With cautious movements, Danny eased himself off the bed and tread lightly toward the habitat's window.

Danny gazed out into the Martian night, where the red dust lay still and undisturbed by wind or life. And yet, there they were—swirling before his widened eyes, the ethereal silhouettes of creatures long extinct. Phantasmal beings that shimmered with the iridescence of lost oceans danced in the starlight; a silent ballet of alien prehistoric marine life that once thrived in waters now vanished.

These were no true spirits, no lingering souls bound to unfinished business. They were echoes, faint impressions left behind when life itself ebbed away from this world. Too weak to manifest as full entities, they existed as mere vestiges of a forgotten time, delicate and fleeting yet achingly beautiful.

Danny's heart ached with a mix of wonder and sadness as he watched these ghostly remnants of a Martian past. He pondered the existence of an echo plasma deposit somewhere on this planet—residual energy pooled after mass extinctions, a rare phenomenon that had somehow endured the eons.

Ectoplasmic deposits formed in myriad ways following death, their longevity determined by the magnitude of the tragedy that birthed them. To find such a cache enduring through the ages was nearly unheard of; Mars had been devoid of life for millennia, its oceans dried and gone, along with whatever creatures had once called them home. Yet here before him swam proof, a clue that somewhere amid the desolation lay what his core so desperately craved.

If he could find this hidden wellspring of echo plasma, he could quench his hunger, restore his strength fully, and become whole once more.

"Whatcha lookin' at, kid?" Vogel's rough voice jolted Danny from his reverie.

"̷̢̧̨͇͉͚̰͙̙̠̩̜̬̙̙̋̑̇̋͜Ĕ̸͈̹͔̖̲͖̥͗̐̈́̍͗c̸̨̡̟̯͓͈̫̥͂̒́̿̐̄̀͛̉͝h̷̡͎͖̣̺̟̠̝͖͍̯̐͌̑̔̓̍̾̽͐͌͗̓̓̚͝o̸͈̒͊͑̿̊̽͒̈́̍͌͝͝͝ḝ̶̝̦̙̫̙̱͉͕̳̠̺͎̳͕̒ͅṣ̸̗͑̔ͅͅ,̷̢̛̻̰͉̜͚͕͙̺̱̥̃̋̋̃̋̓̋̓̔͂̓̓̅͘̕͠ͅ"̷̡̼̖̝͇͕̳̣̗̗̲̅͊͒̎̄̃̀̂̽͑͛̓̿̓̚̕   he murmured, his gaze still locked onto the phantom display.

Vogel leaned closer, squinting into the darkness, clearly befuddled. "Echoes? Of what?"

"̷̨̛̛̪̪͕̥͚͖͎̙̞̞̻̋̉͑̀̒̓̒̿͌̎̕̚̕Ö̶̞͍͎̙̱͈̌f̵̢̧̹̥͕̯̠̫̠̮̤̋ͅͅ ̵̢̫̪͙̤͇͙̳͇͇̬̮̫̂͝l̴̢͕̼̖͇̪̉̐̑̽̈̽͝͝ĭ̴̡̨̤̻̺̜̥̱̮̬͋́͛f̴̧̧̢̫͙͔̜̹̩͕̠̻͎͍͙͂̀͂͌̎̀̿̄͊̄̀͝e̷̛̥̘͎͍̙̠̯̝͓̰̣̻̹̘̯̅͂̃̂̏̔̐͛͑͂͛͘͜͝ͅ,̷̛͈͓̦͚̙̩̔́̽̅̽̎̌̈́̇͌́̉̌"̵̭͍̗̟͒́̕ͅͅ ̷̨̜̥̪̦͇̺̬̟͌̌͋̌̅́͊̆͆̓̂̃̍̚͜ͅ  Danny replied, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Before Vogel could press for an explanation, Mark joined them, peering over their shoulders. "What's got you two so interested out there?" he asked.

"̷̛̛̛͚͓̻̼̠̼͈̹̣̐̐͛̇̋͂̄͑̈́̇͆͐̀͜T̶̻̈́̀̄̒͋̌̉̔͛͋͆̇̽̾̽̚h̵̨͍̤̗͌̔͆̀̿͝ȩ̷̞̟͇͉̗̠̍̎̊̀̌̃͛̈́̐͌̔̋͝ͅͅy̶̝̤̗̬̦̌ ̶̧̢̧̥̪͖͙͙̖̞̰̲̰̥̳̀͂ͅć̴̡̰̬̠͍͓̝̗͎̲̮̝̰̠̯̉̏͐̋̐͂̂a̵̩̰̼̔̔̿̏̈́̀̈͝n̸̳͔̖̹͍̤̳̩͔̩̍͂͑̑̌͒̽̅͂̂̾͑͘͘͝'̸̨̧̢̛̛͇͇̻̬̞͕̰̜̩̤̀͆̌͋̀͂̈́̂̍̃́͊̍̏̔ţ̵̛̳̟͇̣̹̝̗̞̰̫͕͙̥̼̐̏̒͘͘͜͜ ̷̛̦͕̤̟̲͂̓̇̐͊̃̎̈̾̔̚s̴̪̤̪̘̝͙͇̬̝̗͍̺̦͒́́̀͜ȅ̷̡̖̱̬̜͙̱̠͇͎̘̭̇́̾̒͆́͌̊̃́́͘͝e̸̡̮̯͈̰͙̞̘͈͕͋̿́̿̈́̈́̆̽̂͝ͅ ̶̙͇̼̟̩͎̠̾̈́͑̓̿͒̄̇̊̀̈́͋͊̎̕͝ț̴̡̟̤̘͎̹̖͙̦̘̩̈́̅̈́̀̿̑̏̎͒̅̕̕͜ͅḩ̷̭̻̆̄̽͒́͛̎͘e̷̢̨͓͇͉̰̞̰͍͓̲͓̦̫̺̜͛̎̅̆̍m̵̻͍̳̪̠͙̼̙̱̮̫̜̭̆̃̈̉̋͋͐̔̚͜,̵̧̨̨̡̥͈́͊͘"̷̡̛̙̜̲̘͎̂́̅͋̾͂͛   Danny said, finally turning away from the window.

"Either the kid's seeing things we can't, or he's got schizophrenia," Vogel translated, eyeing Danny with a mix of suspicion and curiosity.

"Creepy," Mark muttered, shaking his head. "Might be you're just overtired, need some rest." With a gentle but firm hand on Danny's shoulder, he guided him back to his bed.

"Try to get some sleep," Mark suggested before leaving for his own bed.

But Danny could not fall asleep. The pull in his core tugged at him insistently, a silent plea from his ghost side yearning for the echo plasma that would sustain him. As the hab's occupants drifted into slumber, one by one, Danny slipped from the warmth of his bed, intent on following that call.

Danny moved stealthily toward the airlock, only to find Rick's familiar form blocking his path.

"Whoa there, amigo. Where do you think you're going?" Rick's voice was soft but held an edge of authority.

"̷͎̘̼͖̰͍̮̰̻̓͌̌̀̌̀̋͛́̚͝O̴̲͖̤̤̞͔̼̗̘̠͎͗͗̌̈́̅͘ư̴̻͖̣̗̘̳̺̳̤̳̥͓̖̗̤̰̓̽͒̔̏̓͛̕͝ţ̵̲̮̗̏s̴̢̟̜͚̘͚̰̓͂͊̄́̾̊͗͐͛͒̉͊̄̅́͘i̵̡͐͐͂͗̍̌̚̚͠d̷̰͕͔̏́̎̏͑̎̌̆̕͝͝ę̵̨͉͇͍̹̲͖̜͌͐̔̊̈́̓̉̉͠ͅ,̷̛̪̗̖̌̎̌͆̿̚"̶͖̣͎̻̼̩̼̪̜̝̻̮̮̈ͅ

Danny replied, his voice tinged with frustration. Danny pointed to the airlock door, trying to show he wanted out.

"Tomorrow," Rick replied, figuring out his meaning from his hand gesture. “You can come outside with us then. Not tonight."

"And you can’t go walking around Mars without gear, no matter how fine you were earlier," Rick added, a hint of concern lacing his words.

Danny knew arguing was futile. Defeated, he allowed Rick to usher him back to his bed. Danny watched in annoyance as Martinez laid down a blanket and pillow on the ground and lay down near Danny’s bed.

“Sorry, kid, can’t have you wandering about all alone,” Rick said after catching Danny’s annoyed look.

Danny tried to fall asleep, but he was too restless.

Amity Park, his mind whispered, and he was back there instantly, wandering through familiar streets that thrummed with the pulse of ecto-energy. In Amity, the ordinary mingled with the extraordinary. Every citizen carried a sliver of the paranormal within them, their tongues fluent in the ghostly dialect that resonated between realms. His mind recreated his beloved hometown, giving him comfort. 

The seconds ticked by, stretching into minutes and hours, elongating much like they did back home. Time in Amity was a creature of its own making—sometimes languid, sometimes fleeting, never quite syncing with the rest of the world. An hour could feel like a moment or stretch into eternity, depending on the ebb and flow of the ghostly energy that seeped into the town.

Only those touched by strangeness seemed to find their way to Amity as if the town itself existed in a pocket slightly skewed from the rest of reality. 'Normal' folk rarely stumbled upon it; if they did, they seldom stayed long.

"Rest, Dantom," Rick murmured.

Danny huffed but curled up on his side, slowly letting sleep take him.

Translations for chapter:

Vogel: "It's okay, kid,"  "[The doc just needs to take a look at you, like last night. Nothing to be afraid of.]"

(I am curious, Dantom. How is it that I can suddenly understand and speak this language? Is it common for your kind to share this ability?)

Danny:

("It's...basically the language of the soul," he said slowly. "All life understands it deep down. Most just aren't connected enough to their soul to access it.")

Vogel:

("Connected to our souls? I'm no spiritual guru. I don't meditate or anything.")

Danny:

("Sometimes a near-death experience can unlock it," Danny improvised. "But it stays dormant until you hear Soul Speak. Has anything like that ever happened to you?")

Vogel:

A shadow passed over Vogel's face. ("I nearly drowned as a child. Had an out-of-body experience and everything.”)

Danny:

"[Yes, I can understand most languages, or at least learn them more quickly because of my abilities.]"

"[Well, meditation is one path to connecting with your soul,]" he said finally. "[But it can take years to achieve the level of connection required.]"

("Recording soul speak," Danny began, cautious, "isn't like capturing normal audio. It's... ephemeral, tied to the essence of being. You need specialized equipment, something attuned to more than just physical vibrations.")

("I'm sorry. It’s beyond what I can do.")

"There's no ship," he began slowly, "I’m from… a dimension called the infinity realm. I fell through a wild portal."

("Doorways," Danny explained, "that open randomly between my realm and this one. They're unpredictable, dangerous. If you fall through, you could end up trapped. Like me.")

("No... it's not like that. They're natural phenomena. I was just... unlucky.")

“Thank you”

("Echoes,")

("Of life,")

("They can't see them,")

("Outside,")

Chapter Text

Author note: I’m Stopping the use of the Zalgo text so {this means} ={̸̲̗̳͕̪͇̪̪͑̿͌̍̒̇̃̿̽̒̿͐̑͗͌͝ţ̷̼̝͎̥͓͚̩̦͔̅͋͆̓ḧ̸̢̧̙͉͕͉͖̺͚̇͂̀̍̀̓̈́̌͌̚͠͝͝i̶̤̲̊̆́̔̈̈́̍͗͂͋͋̚̚͠ş̷̢̛̭̪͖͕̣͕̬̠͌͊͗̾̓̐͗̍̓́̔̌̊̀͐̚ ̷̢̛̱̳̭̘̼͉̤̻͍͐͋̀̊́̋͆̈́̕͝m̸̥̩͒̿̈́͗̄̀͗̍̽̏͂̿̇̀͝͠e̶̢̛̥̱̫̻̖̖͖̤̓̆̒̃͆̿̕͜ā̸̢̯̣̤̲̲͍͇͈̖̔̐͛ņ̸̛̟̦͎̯̻̺̭̘̖͓͙̀̊̊̑͂͂̂̆̈́͗̉̎͗̕͜͜͜ͅş̶̟̘̬̖̭͈͖͔̻̩͊̓̋͗̔͌̊͋̿̈́̅̿̕̚ͅ}̴̩̼͂̈́̇̒̿̒͌͑͒͌

̒ ̡̭̝͕̬͚̪̲͉͕̰̞́̾̾͌͜͝ ̧

So when you see speech text with in {     }   this means ghost speak is being spoken.

~ About 4.5 billion years ago: Location: Oceans of Mars~

The alien ocean of Mars teemed with life, a vibrant ecosystem. Prehistoric creatures thrived in the warm, nutrient-rich waters.

Prehistoric behemoths, their forms both alien and familiar, glide through the water. Crustaceans with spiraled carapaces and translucent pincers scuttled across the sandy floor. Schools of bioluminescent fish darted around in the ocean environment.

Amidst this ancient menagerie, a tiny sea serpent darted through the water, its body no more than a foot in length. At first glance, it resembled a miniature mosasaur, with a streamlined head and powerful jaws lined with sharp teeth.

The minuscule creature darted between the legs of a colossal arthropod, its movements quick and purposeful. With a mouth full of needle-like teeth, it snapped up microorganisms and smaller prey.  

Its instincts, honed by countless generations of evolution, guided it through the labyrinthine network of underwater caves and crevices that riddled the Martian seabed.

The sea serpent swam deeper into the cavernous depths, its curiosity piqued by the strange energy emanating from within.

As the creature ventured further, the water began to take on an eerie, luminescent quality. Tendrils of glowing ectoplasm, a substance utterly foreign to the Martian ecosystem, snaked through the water, pulsing with an otherworldly rhythm.

Deep within the heart of the cave, hidden from the prying eyes of the surface world, lay the source of the strange phenomenon: a small wild ghost portal, a tear in the fabric of reality itself.

The tiny sea serpent propelled itself through the ectoplasm-infused waters, its eyes scanning the cavern for any sign of prey.

Suddenly, a swarm of alien krill caught its attention, their bioluminescent bodies casting an eerie glow in the dark depths. With a swift motion, the sea serpent darted forward, its jaws snapping shut around the tiny creatures.

Instinctively, the sea serpent began to hunt, its lithe body twisting and turning as it pursued its prey with a newfound vigor. As it consumed the strange, ectoplasm-infused creatures, the sea serpent could feel a change taking place within its very being. Its muscles grew stronger, its scales harder, and its size began to increase at an alarming rate.

With each passing day, the sea serpent grew larger and more powerful, its body adapting to the unique properties of the ectoplasmic life water.

Slowly but surely, the ghost portal shrunk in size, far too small for the sea serpent to fit through and escape its fate.

The sea serpent's primitive mind was consumed by one thought:

*Hungry! *

*Hungry! *

Hungry! *

It wanted to feed and hunt in the vast Martian Ocean.  

But the cavern’s entrance was now impossibly small for the Sea serpent’s massive form. Panic began to set in as the creature thrashed its tail, desperate to escape the confines of its new prison.

As the sea serpent's hunger grew, so too did its desperation. In the depths of its mind, a strange new power began to manifest, born from the fusion of its primal instincts and the otherworldly energy of the ectoplasm.

At first, it was little more than a faint whisper, a subtle vibration. But as the sea serpent focused its will, the whisper grew louder, more insistent.  

The sea serpent had developed the ability to send out telepathic signals, a siren song that lured unsuspecting prey into its domain.

Schools of fish and krill swarms were drawn to the sea serpent's call, their primitive minds overwhelmed by the irresistible pull of its psychic summons. They swam blindly into the cavern, heedless of the danger that awaited them.

The sea serpent's hunger reached a fever pitch as the prey animals flooded into the cave. It lunged forward, its massive jaws snapping shut around entire schools of fish, its razor-sharp teeth easily tearing through flesh and bone.

Within weeks, the sea serpent had grown to over 70 feet in length, its serpentine form coiled in the cavern's depths like a slumbering leviathan.

And still, it waited, its telepathic signals pulsing through the water like a beacon, luring more and more prey into its domain.

As the eons passed, Mars's once-vibrant oceans began to wither and die. The sea serpent, trapped within its underwater cavern, still sent out its siren call, but the prey dwindled, dwindled, and dwindled down to nothing.

The creature's hunger grew to an all-consuming agony, a gnawing emptiness. It thrashed and writhed in the cave's depths, its telepathic signals growing weaker and more desperate each day.

Yet even as the rest of the Martian ecosystem collapsed around it, the sea serpent clung to life, sustained by the strange, ectoplasmic properties of the water in which it swam. The glowing liquid seemed to pulse with its own energy, keeping the creature's body from wasting away entirely.

As the waters grew colder and colder, the sea serpent's movements became sluggish. It lay in the darkness, its hollow eyes staring into the void, waiting for the telltale ripples that signaled the arrival of prey.

The sea serpent's telepathic call grew weaker, its mind clouded by the constant gnawing of hunger. It drifted in and out of consciousness.

The ectoplasmic water began to solidify, its pace far slower than that of normal water. The creature barely noticed as the water froze around it.

Inch by inch, the ecto-water solidified, its surface hardening into a smooth, glassy sheet. The sea serpent's movements slowed to a crawl, its body becoming one with the frozen tomb that surrounded it.

~Present Day: Year 2035 Mars: Location: Ares III Hab~

Danny's gaze lingered on the airlock with an intensity that might have bored holes through the reinforced metal. Mars beckoned him, a siren call to his senses, an almost magnetic pull towards something hidden beneath its dusty red surface.

"Vogal," Danny ventured, his voice quieter than usual, "{I want to go outside. With the team.}"

Rick Martinez, leaning against the bulkhead with an easy grace, spoke up, “What did he ask?”

Vogal turned to him and repeated Danny’s question.

Rick chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Didn't you try to sneak out of the Hab last night, Dantom?"

Danny's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, his embarrassment evident. Dr. Beck fixed him with a stern look, his brows furrowed in concern. "Going out there alone is off-limits, Dantom; we need to stick together. It's for your safety as much as ours."

Lewis stepped forward, her commanding presence demanding an explanation. "Why did you attempt to leave, Dantom?"

He hesitated, torn between the desire to blend in and the truth of his alien circumstance. But they already viewed him as different; this wasn't the time for pretense. "{I sense something out there,}" Danny began, his voice barely above a whisper. "{I think it might be an ecto deposit, a source of energy that my kind needs to survive. It's a part of our diet, along with physical food and absorption of emotions. I need to eat or absorb this energy as well; too long without it causes problems and, in extreme cases, death."}

"An ecto what now?" Rick interjected.

Danny's fingers twitched at his sides. 

“{The ecto deposit,}" he started, firmly grounding his gaze on the spot just over their heads. "{It's like... an energy source my kind thrives on. We call it life water or ectoplasm.}"

"Wait, back up," Beth interjected after hearing the translation. "You eat emotions?"

Danny’s eyes flickered to meet hers before darting away. "{We absorb them, more like. Think of us as emotional vampires, I guess.}"

Lewis folded her arms, her posture radiating both authority and concern. "Does this hurt the people you—well, feed on?"

"{No, it doesn't,}" Danny said quickly, eager to dispel any rising fears. "{It's just excess emotions they're giving off. Right now, since I'm healing, physical touch helps me absorb it better.}"

Mark's eyebrows shot up in realization, a half-grin pulling at his lips. "Is that why you've been all... touchy-feely?"

Heat crept onto Danny's cheeks, manifesting in a bashful nod. "{ Normally, it's harmless. It only becomes a problem if someone starts craving a specific emotion, chasing after it, and going to any length for it.}”

“Almost sounds like an addiction to me.” Mumbled Vogal after translating.

Dr. Beck's gaze lingered on Danny with a deep intensity. "You mentioned emotions as part of your diet," he began, his tone clinical. "What type are you drawn to?"

"{Any emotion really,}" Danny replied, his voice carrying a note of fatigue that wasn't just from his physical wounds. "{But positive ones... those are best.}” He looked away, staring at the bulkhead. "{Negative stuff can be too much, though. It hurts to take in sometimes.}"

The crew exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of bewilderment and tentative acceptance.

"And these Ecto deposits?" Lewis prodded. “You didn’t really explain those.”

Danny's eyes snapped back to hers, an ethereal glow flickering within. "{Ecto is energy from the Infinity Realm, my... home dimension, I guess. It leaks into other worlds, but it's weird how it works.}" He struggled to articulate the complexities of it. {"When something dies, especially in masse, ecto can manifest. But it's fickle; there's no guarantee it'll appear.}"

"{Life water}," he continued, "{that's another name for it. It it shouldn't exist on Mars anymore; life's been gone too long. But I feel it out there.}" A hint of wonder laced his voice.

"Wait, so this ecto stuff..." Rick interjected, his brow furrowed in concern. "It shows up after something dies, right? What's stopping you from trying to create it yourself—with us?" The question hung heavy in the recycled air of the habitat.

The horror that contorted Danny's face was visceral. He recoiled as if struck. "No!” Danny was so repulsed he slipped into English. This earned him a few intense looks from the astronauts. Danny mentally patted himself on the back for saying he could learn languages faster. And ‘no’ is an easy meaning or word to figure out in most languages.

“{That's not how it—}" He cut himself off, frustration clear in his scowl. "{Murder doesn't make the same kind of ecto. It's tainted, wrong.}" His words stumbled over each other, tripping in his haste to explain. "{I'm not good at explaining this... There are different kinds.}"

It was very true that there were different kinds of ecto, and most ghosts would never try to kill someone to get it or try to make it appear, but also for Danny, he could never kill someone; that would go against his protection obsession, it would hurt more than any wound if he went against it.

Rick held up his hands placatingly, "Hey, I didn't mean to accuse; I just had to ask."

Danny nodded stiffly, the tension slowly ebbing from his shoulders as the crew's initial alarm subsided.

Rick offered a slight smile. "But it's good to know you don't want to kill us. That's always a plus in my book."

Commander Lewis, who had been quietly observing the exchange, spoke up. "Dantom, would this ecto form on Earth as well?"

He hesitated, feeling the weight of their gazes upon him. Honesty won out, though reluctance laced his answer. "{Yes, it would,}" Danny admitted. "{Earth has a lot of life... and death. It's possible for ecto to form there but only in specific places. It's hard to explain the intricacies.}”

"Could you find it if you were there?" Lewis pressed on, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

"Uh-huh," Danny said with a nod. "{My kind—we can sense it. It's like a beacon to us.}" The crew seemed to take comfort in this revelation; it was crucial information. Danny could survive on Earth.

"About this deposit on Mars," Lewis said, shifting her focus. "Do you have any idea where it is?"

Danny shrugged, his brow furrowing in concentration. "{I'm not sure exactly where it is. I can sense that it's far, but if I could go outside and look around, I'm confident I could find it.}"

His eyes lit up with excitement, and he sat up straighter. "{I could be quick, and I don't need a suit to survive out there. I'd be there and back in no time!}"

Dr. Beck immediately shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea, Dantom. Traveling alone in your condition could be dangerous. I don't want you pulling your stitches or aggravating your injuries."

Danny's shoulders slumped, disappointment evident on his face.

Lewis regarded Danny thoughtfully before speaking.

"Let's compromise. We’ll need to get approval from NASA before we can travel to far from the Hab, also you still won’t be going alone. But in the meantime, you can accompany us and help collect soil samples. How does that sound?"

Danny perked up slightly, nodding in agreement. "{Okay, that works for me."}

*I can always sneak out later tonight…...this time, I won’t be caught. * Danny thought to himself.

After much discussion and deliberation, Dr. Beck finally relented, allowing Danny to venture outside without a spacesuit. He fixed the young half-ghost with a stern look, his voice filled with concern. "Dantom, I need you to be extremely careful out there. Be mindful of your wounds, and if you feel any pain or need to rest, let us know immediately. Understand?"

Danny nodded. He was excited to finally stretch his legs and see the surface of Mars. Last time, he was busy bleeding out.

Beck turned to address the rest of the crew. "I want everyone to keep a close eye on Dantom while we're out there. Vogal, I'm assigning you to stick with him; make sure he doesn't run off or push himself too hard."

Vogal gave a curt nod, his expression serious. Danny felt a twinge of annoyance at being treated like a child.

Beck pulled Danny aside; his brow furrowed in thought. "Dantom, I have a question. Can your body convert the emotions and physical food you consume into the energy you need? The same energy that ecto would provide?"

Danny considered the question for a moment before responding. "{Yes, it can, but only for a limited time. Eventually, I'll need to find a source of ecto to sustain myself fully.}"

Beck nodded. "So, it's almost like a vitamin deficiency. Your body can compensate for a while, but eventually, you'll need the real thing."

"{Exactly,}" Danny confirmed.

"We'll do our best to locate an ecto deposit for you while we're here," Beck assured him. "But if we can't find one on Mars, we'll make sure to get you what you need once we're back on Earth."

The Martian dust swirled around Danny as he stepped out onto the barren landscape, the red soil crunching softly under his feet.

Vogal hovered nearby, his stance protective yet unobtrusive.

"Tell us about the infinity realm," Mark Watney's voice crackled through the shared comms, unable to contain his fascination. "Are portals something you come by often?"

"{Portals are pretty common,}" Danny explained, picking up a rock and examining its texture before placing it into the collection bag. "{There are wild ones—they're unpredictable and dangerous. Stable ones are safer but harder to find.}"

"Can anyone create these portals?" Mark pressed.

"{Only a few,}" Danny replied, his gaze drifting over the horizon. "{It takes a lot of power and knowledge to make them at will. Most of my kind prefer solitude, sticking to themselves to avoid complications.}"

****

Danny was helping Mark and Vogal collect some rock samples when it hit him. A strange tingling pain radiated outward from his core, making him gasp and double over.

No! He couldn't transform back now, not here! He clutched his midsection, willing his human half to stay suppressed. Plus, if he transformed here outside on Mars, without a suit on, he wasn’t sure if his human half would be able to survive!

After an agonizing minute, the tingling subsided. Danny remained hunched on the ground, panting. His secret was still safe, but the effort had drained him.

Strong hands grasped him under the arms, lifting him up. Danny blinked blearily at Vogal's concerned face. The astronaut said something Danny didn't catch over the ringing in his ears.

Vogal carried Danny back inside the hab, laying him down on the exam table.

Danny, feeling too drained and in pain, fell into blissful unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

Author note: I’m Stopping the use of the Zalgo text so {this means} ={̸̲̗̳͕̪͇̪̪͑̿͌̍̒̇̃̿̽̒̿͐̑͗͌͝ţ̷̼̝͎̥͓͚̩̦͔̅͋͆̓ḧ̸̢̧̙͉͕͉͖̺͚̇͂̀̍̀̓̈́̌͌̚͠͝͝i̶̤̲̊̆́̔̈̈́̍͗͂͋͋̚̚͠ş̷̢̛̭̪͖͕̣͕̬̠͌͊͗̾̓̐͗̍̓́̔̌̊̀͐̚ ̷̢̛̱̳̭̘̼͉̤̻͍͐͋̀̊́̋͆̈́̕͝m̸̥̩͒̿̈́͗̄̀͗̍̽̏͂̿̇̀͝͠e̶̢̛̥̱̫̻̖̖͖̤̓̆̒̃͆̿̕͜ā̸̢̯̣̤̲̲͍͇͈̖̔̐͛ņ̸̛̟̦͎̯̻̺̭̘̖͓͙̀̊̊̑͂͂̂̆̈́͗̉̎͗̕͜͜͜ͅş̶̟̘̬̖̭͈͖͔̻̩͊̓̋͗̔͌̊͋̿̈́̅̿̕̚ͅ}̴̩̼͂̈́̇̒̿̒͌͑͒͌ ̸̡̧̭̝͕̬͚̪̲͉͕̰̞̒́̾̾͌͜͝

So when you see speech text with in {     }   this means ghost speak is being spoken.

Also remember Vogal is translating to the rest of the crew as Danny speaks ghost speak. 

~Date unknown~

Amidst the barren plains of the Martian landscape, a subtle change whispered through the frozen ground. The ecto water that lay dormant beneath the surface began to shift, stirring from its slumber as though touched by an unseen flame. The ecto water, once frozen solid for eons, began to thaw.

In the ghost zone, a realm of swirling ectoplasm and spectral energy, a clan of ghostly dragons made their home in a vast, otherworldly lake. Each dragon was a furnace unto itself, their presence heating the ecto lake until it steamed softly, tendrils of warmth bleeding into the air.

Unlike their brethren who resided in the volcano caves of the ghost zone's oceans, these dragons had taken a liking to this particular lake. It had become their favored retreat. The warmth of their fire cores mingled with the energy of the portal, creating a nexus of heat that resonated with the very pulse of the ghost zone.

They circled each other, engaging in playful bouts of aquatic sparring. Little did they know that their presence in the lake, and the heat they radiated, was having a profound effect on the frozen caverns of Mars.

In the depths of the lake, the tiny ghost portal pulsed and shimmered, a conduit between worlds. The heat from the dragons' cores seeped through, traveling across the vast expanse of space and time, seeping into the frozen caverns of Mars. There, in the heart of the red planet, an ancient creature began to stir, its icy prison slowly melting away.

~Present Day~

Back on Earth, one day before Danny's collapse, Teddy Sanders found himself sitting across from President Alfred Davis in the Oval Office. The weight of the situation hung heavy in the air as the two men exchanged pleasantries.

Teddy cleared his throat, his eyes meeting the President's. "Mr. President, I understand the delicate nature of this situation. We need to handle this with the utmost care and consideration."

President Davis leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him. "Mr. Sanders, I agree. This is an unprecedented opportunity for our nation, for humanity as a whole. We must tread carefully, but we must also seize this moment."

Teddy nodded, his mind examining the potential implications of their actions. *The discovery of an alien life form, a teenager no less, could change everything. The scientific advancements, the cultural impact... it's almost too much to comprehend. *

"I've instructed my team to keep this under wraps for now," Teddy said, his voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in his stomach. "We can't afford any leaks, not until we have a solid plan in place."

President Davis smiled, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. "Good. We need to control the narrative, Sanders. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and we can't let it slip through our fingers."

*He's right, * Teddy thought, *but at what cost? We're talking about a living, breathing being here. We can't just treat him like a political pawn. * Teddy didn’t like the idea of the kid being used in that way, but if it gained him protection, then it might be their only option.

"Mr. President," Teddy began, choosing his words carefully, "I understand the potential benefits, but we must also consider the ethical implications. This is an intelligent life form we're dealing with, not just a resource to be exploited."

President Davis leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I'm well aware of that, Mr. Sanders, but we also have a responsibility to our people, to our nation."

Teddy nodded, his expression grave. "I understand, Mr. President. But we must also consider the potential for peaceful relations. This alien kid could be the key to unlocking a new era of cooperation and understanding between our species. If we approach this situation with empathy and respect, the benefits for humanity could be immeasurable."

President Davis leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. *He has a point. If we can establish a positive relationship with this alien race, it could lead to technological advancements beyond our wildest dreams. And the boost to my approval ratings wouldn't hurt either. *

"You're right." the President said aloud. "We need to handle this situation delicately.”

Teddy could see the gears turning in the President's mind, the calculated weighing of risks and rewards.

"I agree, Mr. President," Teddy said carefully. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Our first priority should be ensuring the safety and comfort of our guest. Building trust and rapport should be our primary focus."

President Davis nodded, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Of course, Sanders. We'll handle this the right way. But let's not forget the bigger picture here. This could be the defining moment of our generation, and I intend to make the most of it."

"I'm glad we're on the same page, Mr. President," Teddy said, allowing a small smile to cross his face. "I'll make sure our teams are fully briefed on the importance of treating our visitor with the utmost care and respect."

President Davis leaned back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Excellent. Keep me updated on any developments, Sanders. I want to be the first to know when our alien friend arrives on Earth."

"Before you go," President Davis called just as Teddy reached the threshold of the office. Teddy stopped a sense of foreboding tightening his shoulders as he turned back to face the president. "There's one more thing."

"Sir?" Teddy inquired, masking his apprehension with practiced ease.

Davis leaned forward, steepling his fingers on the polished surface of his desk. "I'd like a picture of our extraterrestrial guest. Not one of him laid out on an examination table, but a nice one. Perhaps one of him with the crew.”

"I'll see to it that the Ares crew gets a picture for you," he relented with a nod, hoping the image would evoke empathy rather than entitlement.

"Excellent!" The president's eyes sparkled, a hint of intrigue surfacing. "And there's the matter of communication. I've been informed some of our people can understand the alien language. How is that possible?"

Teddy recognized the cue, his role as the intermediary once again at the forefront. "It’s an impressive feat. Our linguists are in communication with the astronaut who can understand it. It appears there's a natural translatability, perhaps a universal structure to their language. From what Dantom has told the crew, it has something to do with speaking between souls. Apparently, it’s something we all have the potential to already know. It's early days, but we’re working on understanding this.”

"Have your scientists delve into this. I want that to be a top priority." Davis directed, his fascination palpable.

"Consider it done, Mr. President," Teddy assured, a cautious optimism taking root.

"Keep me updated, Sanders. Every breakthrough, every whisper," Davis said, leaning back in his chair, his demeanor suggesting a man already drafting the future in his mind.

"Absolutely, sir." With a final nod, Teddy exited the room, feeling the weight of each step. He knew that each piece of knowledge gained about Dantom and his kind was as much a treasure as it was a liability. But if navigated with care, it could mean a better world for all—alien and human alike.

President Davis sat at his desk, a triumphant smile playing across his lips as he savored the moment. The pieces were falling into place, and he could already envision the historic speeches he would deliver to the nation and the world.

"Alfred Davis," he whispered to the quiet room, "the man who extended humanity's hand to the stars."

~Ares Crew: Location: Mars~

Danny lay curled up on the bed, his brow furrowed as he slept fitfully. Beads of sweat glistened on his pale forehead. His chest rose and fell in shallow, labored breaths.

Deep inside, Danny’s ghostly core fluttered weakly, exhausted and desperate to conserve energy. It yearned to revert him back to his human form, a reprieve that would allow Danny to rest and recharge. But the boy fought against the transformation with all his remaining strength, terrified of revealing his secret. Bones ached, and muscles spasmed as Danny internally battled his own nature, inflicting further pain and strain on his already injured body.

In the adjoining compartment, the crew gathered in hushed conversation, their faces etched with concern.

"We need to locate that ecto-energy deposit," Commander Lewis said, her voice heavy with responsibility. "It could be Dantom's only chance."

Dr. Beck shook his head. "In his condition, I don't think Dantom can handle a risky excursion. We should focus on stabilizing him first."

"And risk failing our primary mission objective?" Vogel countered. "NASA expects results. We can't come back empty-handed."

"Look," Watney started, his voice low, "we can't ignore the fact that Dantom's condition is deteriorating. We need to find that ecto/energy deposit if we're going to help him."

Johanssen chimed in. "We all want what's best for Dantom. But we have to weigh the risks carefully."

 Rodriguez, his voice firm yet empathetic. "I say we focus on finding that energy source. It might be the key to getting Danny back on his feet. Besides, I don't think I could live with myself if we didn't do everything we could to help him."

Lewis sighed, the weight of command bearing down on her. She glanced at Dantom's still form, her heart clenching.

*He's just a child, * she thought mournfully.

Straightening her shoulders, Lewis turned back to her crew, resolve hardening her features.

"We'll give Dantom a little more time to rest and recover," she declared. But we need to formulate a plan to reach this ecto-energy. I realize we need him to direct us there, but Dr. Beck is right: We need to make sure he’s safe to move about. I won't let this boy fade away on my watch, not without doing everything in our power to save him."

Nods of agreement circled the room. In the med bay, Dantom whimpered softly, lost in fever dreams.

A chime from the computer screen disrupted the somber atmosphere. Lewis moved swiftly to answer, her brow furrowing as she processed the incoming message.

"It's from Mission Control," she announced, a hint of surprise coloring her tone. "They're giving us the green light to pursue the ecto-energy deposit."

Lewis skimmed the message further, her lips pressed into a thin line. "NASA's top priority is ensuring the kid's survival. If the energy source proves too dangerous or time-consuming to retrieve, we're authorized to depart Mars early."

Vogel frowned, concern etching deep lines into his forehead. "Early departure? Is that wise? The journey back to Earth is long and fraught with potential complications."

"Yeah," Martinez chimed in, his earlier frustration giving way to genuine worry. "What if Dantom's condition deteriorates en route? It's not like we can just pop into a space hospital for supplies."

*They're right, * Lewis admitted silently. *Leaving early could put Dantom at even greater risk. But what choice do we have? If we stay and he continues to decline...*

She shook her head, banishing the dark thoughts. "We'll cross that bridge when and if we come to it. For now, our focus is on finding that energy deposit and praying it holds the key to Dantom's recovery."

Lewis scrolled further down the message, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "There's one more thing. The President has requested a photo of Dantom with the crew."

The crew exchanged puzzled glances, unsure how to respond to such an odd request given the gravity of their situation.

***

Danny's emerald eyes fluttered open, squinting against the light. Disoriented, he scanned his surroundings, his heart racing as he struggled to piece together fragmented memories of the events leading up to his collapse.

Seeing his patient's wakefulness, Dr. Beck approached the bed with a reassuring smile. "Hey there, Dantom. How are you feeling?" He began a careful examination, checking the boy's vital signs and assessing his overall condition. Vogal, at his side, acted as translator.

Danny flinched at the doctor's touch, his mind still foggy with lingering fear and distrust. {"I... I'm okay,"} he mumbled, his voice hoarse from disuse. {"What happened?"}

"You gave us quite a scare," Beck explained gently. "Your body seems to be under a great deal of stress. We're doing everything we can to help you recover."

As Beck concluded his examination, Commander Lewis entered the med bay, the rest of the crew trailing behind her. "It's Good to see you awake, Dantom," she said warmly. We have a small favor to ask if you're feeling up to it."

Danny eyed the group warily, his muscles tensing. {"What kind of favor?"}

Lewis held up a camera, her expression apologetic. "The President has requested a photo of you with the crew. A show of goodwill, if you will. But if you're not comfortable-"

{"No, it's fine,"} Danny interrupted, his mind racing. *Why would the President want a picture with me? *

"Come on, guys, huddle in," Commander Melissa Lewis instructed as she sat by Dantom on the bed. Danny sat in the center as the crew arranged themselves around him, each offering reassuring smiles.

"Say 'cheese,'" Beck joked lightly, aiming the camera.

{"Cheese?"} Danny echoed, the word feeling silly on his lips. But the camera clicked before he could ponder it further, capturing the moment for eternity.

Lewis swiftly sent the image off to Earth, her fingers deftly navigating the console. Once done, she turned her attention back to their otherworldly guest, her curiosity overcoming her earlier restraint.

"Dantom, we realized we haven't asked... What is your species called?" Her tone was casual, but the intensity in her eyes betrayed the importance of the question.

Danny's heart skipped a beat, his mind scrambling for a plausible lie. {"Oh, um... we're called... Ecto-Sapiens,"} he blurted out, immediately cringing at the absurdity of the name.

The crew exchanged skeptical glances; their suspicions piqued by Dantom’s obvious discomfort. It’s not that the name was odd, he could have said anything, and they’d accept it, it was the way the teen said it, making them think it wasn’t true.

Mark, unable to contain his curiosity any longer, spoke up. "Hey, Dantom... how do you know about vampires? It's just, well, vampires are kind of an Earth thing, you know? Seems like a pretty big coincidence for an alien to reference them."

Danny's mouth went dry, his palms slick with sweat beneath his gloves. {"I, uh... I must have heard about them somewhere,"} he stammered, his gaze darting nervously around the room. {"You know, through... through cultural osmosis."}

The crew's expressions made it clear they weren't buying his flimsy excuse. Lewis, her brow furrowed in concern, leaned in closer. "Dantom, if there's something you're not telling us... if you're in some kind of trouble... we want to help. You can trust us."

But Danny, his fear and paranoia reaching a crescendo, shrank back against the pillows, his eyes wide and haunted. *They can't know the truth,' he thought desperately. 'They can't find out what I am, what I've been through. They'll turn me over to the GIW, and then...*

Melissa Lewis leaned forward, her gaze pinning Danny like a specimen beneath a microscope. "Dantom," she began, her voice a mix of stern command and tempered concern, "have you ever been to Earth?"

Danny's heart thudded against his ribcage. He wrapped his arms tighter around himself, the lie coiling in his throat. {"No, why would I?"} His voice was barely a whisper, strained with the effort to sound nonchalant.

"Because it might explain a few things," Lewis replied, her eyes not leaving his ethereal form. She tried to soften her tone, to show compassion rather than accusation. "We're not going to be upset if you have. We just need to understand."

{"Understand what?"} Danny deflected, but the pit in his stomach grew as his lies tangled around him.

"Maybe how you got hurt," Lewis suggested gently, though the undercurrent of her suspicion was impossible to miss.

The silence stretched between them, fraught with unspoken questions. Danny's fear ballooned, filling every corner of the habitat. In a barely audible murmur, he broke the tense quiet. {"I... I did get stuck there once."}

"Stuck where?" Watney prodded, leaning in closer.

{"Earth,"} Danny admitted, the word tasting like defeat. {"But I'm scared, okay? If they find out I'm here..."}

"Who are 'they'?" Lewis asked, her brow creasing with worry.

{"The GIW,"} Danny rasped, a tremor running through him. The mention of the name sent an icy wave down his spine. {"Your government... they hurt me."}

"GIW?" Lewis repeated, confusion mingling with horror.

"Ghost hunters," Danny explained, his control slipping as English words tumbled out, unchecked. "They call us ghosts. They say we're non-beings, that we mimic emotions, that we're evil."

Surprise rippled across the crew’s faces at hearing English. Vogal jerked in surprise; he had been ready to continue translating, so the slip into English was very jarring. Nobody pointed it out, instead focusing on the current topic. They could get to that topic later.

"Non-beings?" Beck echoed, disbelief plain on his face.

"Emotional mimicking creatures," Danny continued, his voice rising with a bitter edge. "There’s a stable portal in Amity Park. They watch us, hunt us... And there are laws, ecto acts, allowing them to do whatever they want to us!"

The crew exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from skepticism to outright horror. Danny's hands clenched into fists, his translucent body flickering with raw energy as he spoke.

"Experiments, containment, dissection!" His litany of accusations spiked with desperation. "You don't understand; they'll kill me. And they'll get away with it."

Lewis reached out tentatively, her gesture one of comfort, but Danny recoiled, wrapping his arms protectively around himself. The weight of his truth hung heavily in the air, pressing upon each crew member with the gravity of their newfound knowledge.

"God," Watney muttered, his voice a breathless whisper. "We had no idea."

"Phantoms," Danny whispered, his gaze distant, haunted by memories he wished he could erase. "That's what humans call my kind—ghosts."

The Ares crew sat in stunned silence, grappling with the implications of Danny's revelations.

Danny's breath came in shallow gasps, a cold sweat beading on his spectral forehead. Every muscle in his body was tensed, ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation. He could feel their eyes on him, analyzing, judging – perhaps even condemning. The fear gnawed at him, an insidious whisper that they might just decide he was too much of a liability, too alien, and hand him over to the GIW.

"Listen," Lewis said, her tone soft yet laced with an undercurrent of authority, "We're not like them, Danny. We want to help."

But her words were a mismatch for the dread coursing through his veins. Help? Or deliver him straight back to the torturous clutches from which he'd barely escaped?

"Help?" Danny echoed, his voice quivering with a mix of skepticism and burgeoning terror. "Or hand me over?"

"Of course not," Beck chimed in earnestly, but the reassurance sounded hollow to Danny's ears.

A sudden surge of ectoplasmic energy crackled around him, the manifestation of his mounting panic.

As Danny's fear and stress continued to escalate, his powers began to flare up uncontrollably. The air around him crackled with ectoplasmic energy, casting an eerie green glow throughout the room. The crew instinctively took a step back, their eyes widening in a mix of awe and apprehension.

Danny grimaced as another wave of pain washed over him, his body struggling to maintain its ghostly form. He could feel his human side trying to assert itself, desperate for rest and recovery, but he fought against it with every ounce of his remaining strength. Transforming now, in front of the crew, would only lead to more questions and suspicion.

"I... I can't control it," he gasped, his voice strained with the effort of keeping his powers in check. "It's too much, I... I need to..." He trailed off, his eyes squeezing shut as he focused on pushing back the pain and the overwhelming urge to change.

The crew watched in stunned silence, their minds racing as they tried to process the incredible display of power before them.

"Easy, kid," Martinez cautioned, taking an involuntary step backward as Danny's aura flared, casting eerie shadows across the walls of the hab.

"Can't... control it," Danny panted, his voice breaking as another spike of pain lanced through him.

"Nobody's turning you over to anyone," Lewis finally said, her voice resolute, "You have our word."

Danny's glow dimmed slightly, the chaotic energy receding as if reflecting the tentative hope sparked by her promise.

He knew he needed to calm down, to rein in his emotions before he lost control completely, but the fear and the trauma were too raw, too close to the surface.

"Leave me alone," he whispered, his voice hoarse and strained as he curled in on himself, drawing his knees up to his chest and burying his face in his arms. "Just... just go away."

Dr. Beck exchanged a concerned glance with the rest of the crew before slowly approaching the trembling boy. He crouched down beside the bed, careful not to touch Danny as he spoke in a gentle, reassuring tone.

"Dantom, I know you're scared, and I know you've been through a lot. But we're not going to hurt you, and we're not going to let anyone else hurt you, either. We want to help you in any way we can."

Danny shook his head, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs as he refused to meet Beck's gaze. In his mind, he couldn't stop thinking about the GIW, about the horrors he had endured at their hands. He knew he could never reveal his true identity as a half-human hybrid even if he told the crew everything about ghosts. It was too risky, too dangerous. His only chance of escape was to make it back to Earth and slip away undetected in his human form, leaving no trail for the GIW to follow.

Beck sighed, his heart aching for the traumatized boy in front of him.

"We're here for you, Dantom," he said softly, his voice filled with unwavering compassion and support. "Whenever you're ready to talk, we'll be here to listen."

But Danny just curled away from him, his body language making it clear that he was done talking.

***

The crew gathered in the common area, their faces etched with concern and disbelief. Lewis paced back and forth, her mind racing with the implications of what they had just learned.

"This is a disaster," she said, her voice tight with stress. "If what Dantom says is true, then the GIW has not only screwed up first contact, but they've also committed heinous acts against an intelligent species. It's a miracle that he's even willing to talk to us at all."

Vogel nodded, his expression grim. "The fact that they tortured and experimented on him... it's unthinkable. How could anyone do that to a child, alien or not?"

Martinez shook his head, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and sadness. "It's no wonder he's so scared of us. If that was my first experience with humanity, I'd be terrified too."

Lewis stopped pacing and turned to face her crew, her expression resolute. "We need to handle this situation carefully. The consequences of our actions could have far-reaching implications for the future of human-alien relations."

Johanssen leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. "What do you think he is?" she asked, her voice low. "A ghost? An energy being from another dimension?"

Martinez shook his head. "I don't know. I've never seen anything like him before. The way he can manipulate energy... it's beyond anything we've encountered."

Vogel chimed in, his German accent thickening with emotion. "I think we need to focus on getting him what he needs. Once we gain his trust, there will be time for more questions.”

Watney ran a hand through his hair, his eyes distant. "What if he's not from our universe at all? What if he's from a parallel dimension, one where the laws of physics are different?"

Lewis stood up, her face set with determination. "Whatever he is, wherever he's from, our priority is to keep him safe and help him heal. We'll figure out the rest as we go."

~Location: Earth~

Thousands of miles away and unbeknownst to the crew, the GIW headquarters buzzed with malicious excitement. In a secure, soundproof room, Agent A hovered over a console with a smug grin as he replayed a sound clip labeled 'Soul speak.' Accompanying it was a high-resolution photograph of Phantom, the vial ghost boy, sitting on a bed with the Ares crew around him.

"Finally," Agent A whispered to himself, a predatory gleam in his eye. "Our mole in the White House came through. With this, we can justify direct intervention." Agent A frowned in thought. Technically, their organization had been disbanded in the 1970s when the higher-ups in the government deemed it silly to give funding to an organization that hunted ghosts. His predecessor had hidden their activity and taken funding without the main branches of government knowing.

Now they would see. It was their duty to educate the president about the evils of Phantom's kind. Look how it mimicked and pretended to be something it wasn’t and tricked those around it. It was finally the GIW's time to shine. He was confident all would be forgiven for taking funds and declaring themselves government officials. They did this to protect the world.

He spun around in his chair, addressing a lacky. "Prepare the team. We're going to DC. Once we explain to the president the dangers of this creature, he’ll hand him right over.  And once we have Phantom, we'll dissect him piece by piece.”

The figure nodded, and Agent A returned his attention to the screen. The stakes had been raised, and a new chapter in their hunt for Danny Phantom was about to begin. He was also confident that once the president learned of the potential use of this creature, he would easily give up the specimen. Before they had lost Phantom, they had been preparing a device that would use the ghostly energy the creature gave off and act as a battery of sorts. Phantom could be used to fuel multiple large cities. He would serve humanity well as their ghostly battery. It would replace fossil fuels and bring them into a new era.

Soon, the GIW would be seen as heroes, and if they couldn’t destroy the evil ghosts, they could put them to use for humanity.

Chapter Text

With a simple press of a button an image was released to the public; an image that would set the internet ablaze: an enigmatic alien boy with snow-white hair and piercing green eyes, standing with the Ares Crew. His build was of a scrawny teenager compared to the adult astronauts.

 The questions came fast —Was this incontrovertible proof of extraterrestrial life? Had the government been harboring cosmic secrets all along?

The unknown employee smirked at his handy work. He felt pleased at what he had done, and not an ounce of shame or regret. This would set the necessary wheels into motion.

***

Hashtags and buzzwords spread like wildfire across social media as the leaked image of Dantom went viral. Theories abounded, ranging from measured skepticism to wild-eyed conspiracy.

"Alien Boy Among Astronauts – What Is NASA Hiding?"

"NASA discovers evidence of aliens on Mars #LittleGreenMen #WeAreNotAlone"

"Leaked photo reveals hidden extraterrestrial, are they walking among us? #Area51Revealed #TruthIsOutThere"

"Press conference DEMANDED - what is @NASA hiding from the American people? Full transparency now! #ReleaseTheAliens #NASACoverup"

Teddy Sanders scrolled through the endless stream of tweets, a scowl etched on his brow, fingers drumming an agitated rhythm on his mahogany desk. They had planned to let the public know, he was hoping to do this on his own terms. That they would be able to delay for a little bit longer. An alien discovery was one of those cases where NASA had wanted to give its own government a heads up and time to process this world-changing event.

But soon after getting the crew picture with Dantom, someone leaked it to the public.

With a heavy sigh, Teddy picked up the phone and dialed the president. This conversation wasn't going to be pleasant.

The call clicked through. "Mr. President, we have a situation." Teddy gripped the receiver with white knuckles. "An unauthorized image of the entity has been leaked. It's spreading rapidly online."

"God damnit, Mr. Sanders!" President Davis' voice boomed through the line, frustration palpable. "I thought I made it crystal clear - no leaks, period. You assured me NASA had this under control."

Teddy winced, feeling the sharp sting of failure. "Sir, I apologize. We're investigating the source of the breach. But right now, we need to get in front of this. The media sharks are circling, demanding answers. And I’d like to point out, that NASA did not have to tell you first. We are a public domain; the public would be told eventually. It’s just happening sooner than later."

Tense hung between them. "I see. I assume we’re on the same page?” Davis asked.

“The page being the emphasis of peaceful contact and diplomacy?” Teddy emphasized.

“Yes, yes, of course.” The President replied. Teddy could just imagine him waving his hand in the air in dismissal. The line clicked dead.

Teddy leaned back in his chair, rubbing his throbbing temples. This alien kid was proving to be more trouble than he ever imagined. As speculation raged out of control, time was of the essence. They needed to seize the narrative before it spiraled beyond their grasp.

With a deep breath, Teddy reached for his computer mouse and clicked open his saved draft of his speech.  

***

The cameras flashed incessantly as Teddy Sanders stepped up to the podium, the NASA logo emblazoned on the wall behind him. He cleared his throat, his heart pounding against his ribs. "Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you for being here today."

He glanced down at his carefully prepared notes. "As many of you are aware, an image has been circulating online depicting what appears to be an extraterrestrial being alongside our Ares crew on Mars." Murmurs rippled through the room, but Teddy pressed on.

"I can confirm that this image is authentic. During their mission, our astronauts encountered a juvenile alien life form, which we have come to learn is named 'Dantom.' This alien child was injured, and our crew has been assisting him and successfully making peaceful contact.

The room erupted into a frenzy of shouted questions and camera flashes. Teddy raised his hands, attempting to quiet the crowd. "Please, let me finish. We understand the monumental significance of this discovery and the delicate nature of the situation. Our top priority is ensuring the well-being of Dantom and maintaining a peaceful relationship with any potential extraterrestrial civilizations."

He took a deep breath, his voice growing more solemn. "We face unprecedented challenges in navigating this uncharted territory. But I assure you, we are proceeding with the utmost caution and respect. NASA, in collaboration with the government, is committed to transparency and will provide regular updates as the situation unfolds. Thank you."

As Teddy stepped away from the podium, the room exploded with a barrage of questions.

***

President Alfred Davis stood tall behind the lecture podium, he had handsome dark skin, and a charming smile. His presence commanding the attention of the entire nation. The cameras zoomed in on his confident smile, capturing the historic moment. "My fellow Americans," he began, his deep voice resonating through the room, "today, we stand on the precipice of a new era for humanity."

He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in. "The discovery of an alien child, Dantom, on Mars is a testament to the boundless possibilities that await us in the vastness of space. This is not a moment for fear or apprehension, but one of hope and opportunity."

Davis leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with ambition. "As your President, I am committed to fostering peaceful contact and maintaining good relations with Dantom's species."

"We must approach this situation with wisdom, compassion, and an open mind," he continued, his voice growing more impassioned. "I call upon all nations to join us in this endeavor, to set aside our differences and work together for the betterment of all sentient beings."

Behind the veneer of diplomatic ambition, those closest to him recognized the undercurrent of self-interest. To be the President who welcomed aliens to Earth, who brokered alliances among the stars—it was a legacy any leader would covet. And one that Alfred Davis craved more than anything else.  

As the audience erupted in applause, Davis basked in the moment, his ego swelling with each camera flash. *This is my destiny,* he thought, his smile widening.

***

The scene shifts to a bustling newsroom where reporters from various international outlets scramble to cover the breaking story. On a large television screen, a stern-faced journalist from the BBC delivers a scathing report.

"While the discovery of an alien child is indeed a momentous occasion, many world leaders are expressing their disappointment and frustration with President Davis's decision to keep this information hidden from the international community."

The camera cuts to a press conference, where the UN Secretary addresses a room full of journalists. "Transparency is crucial in matters of global significance," she states, her voice laced with a mix of relief and irritation. "While we are thankful that first contact was handled peacefully, the lack of communication and cooperation from the United States government is deeply concerning."

Meanwhile, on the streets of New York, a reporter wove through the crowd, microphone in hand, capturing the pulse of public opinion.

A middle-aged man in a suit shakes his head, his face etched with concern. "I don't trust it," he says, his voice tinged with xenophobia. "For all we know, this could be the beginning of an invasion. We need to protect our own first."

Not far from him, a middle-aged woman shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm neutral about it. If they wanted to harm us, wouldn't they have done so already?"

Next, a young woman steps up to the microphone. "I think it's incredible!" she exclaims, her enthusiasm palpable. "Just imagine what we could learn from them. This could be the start of something truly amazing."

The reporter approaches an elderly couple walking hand in hand. The man shrugs, his expression neutral. "I've seen a lot in my life," he says, his voice gruff but not unkind. "Aliens? Well, I suppose it was only a matter of time. As long as they come in peace, I've got no problem with it."

Excitement bubbled up in the form of a group of people of various ages all clad in sci-fi merchandise, their eyes bright and voices animated.

"Can you imagine? Actual aliens!" one exclaimed. "This could be the dawn of a whole new era, like...like Star Trek coming to life!"

"Think of what we could learn from them!" another chimed in, practically bouncing on their toes.

As the interviews continue, the divided reactions of the public become increasingly apparent. Some express fear and mistrust, while others embrace the possibility of interstellar friendship. The reporter turns to the camera, her face a mix of excitement and uncertainty.

"One thing is clear," the reporter says, her voice steady. "The world will never be the same again. As we stand on the precipice of a new era, it is up to all of us to decide how we will navigate this uncharted territory and shape the future of human-alien relations."

***

In the flickering glow of the living room TV, the residents of Amity Park clustered together as the evening news shifted to a breaking story. Amidst the collective gasp that rose from the townspeople, there lay a thread of recognition that twisted their shock into bewildered concern and confusion.

"Isn't that... Inviso-BILL?" someone trailed off, lips quivering in disbelief.

"Can't be; I thought he was a ghost, not an alien," another murmured.

Dash Baxter dropped his plate of pizza as the camera zoomed in. “Danny Phantom! So that’s where he’s been. In Space! So COOL!

"Is that... Danny Phantom?" Paulina asks, her voice laced with disbelief. "What's he doing on Mars?"

"Oh, WOW! I guess he was an alien this whole time.” Star said.

“Does this mean we had first contact? Kinda sucks that NASA’s stealing credit,”   Kwan remarked.

As the news spreads, the people of Amity Park find themselves grappling with a mix of emotions. Some express concern for their beloved hero, wondering if his presence on Mars means he's left them vulnerable to ghostly attacks. Others wonder if he was always an alien and not a ghost. Some wonder once again why The World never bothered with Amity Park's business.

---

Across town, in the privacy of Sam's bedroom, three figures huddled around her laptop. Sam, Tucker, and Jazz watched the same broadcast, but their reactions diverged sharply from the rest of Amity Park. As the image of Danny—no, Dantom—flashed across the screen, relief washed over their faces like the first rays of dawn after a long, harrowing night.

"He's alive," Jazz whispers, her voice trembling with relief. "He's alive, and he's on Mars."

Sam stops pacing and leans over their shoulders; her brow furrowed with worry. "But why is he pretending to be an alien? What happened to him?"

"You know, only Danny can make first contact happen by being the alien.” Tucker chuckled, though the sound was shaky, relief undercutting the humor. "Classic Danny."

Jazz took a deep breath in and out, calming her anxiety. Her hands clasped so tightly that her knuckles turned white. "This whole week...we thought the GIW finally got him." She let go of a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

Their search had been relentless, scouring every corner, confronting every specter with the same desperate question: Where is Danny? But each inquiry led only to dead ends and mounting despair. They had been in the middle of making plans to infiltrate the GIW to see if they had him and rescue Danny if they had to. Sam had been ready to take any means necessary to save her best friend.

Sam stands up, her eyes blazing with resolve. "We're going to D.C.," she declares, her voice unwavering. "If Danny needs us, we'll be there for him. No matter what."

“Wow! Wait, if he’s on Mars, it will take them months to return. And they haven’t even left Mars yet.” Jazz quickly pointed out. 

“I know that I’m not stupid.” Sam glared. “But my gut tells me; we need to be the ones to inform NASA of the truth. Do you really think the government will sit by and play 'first contact tea party' with him? Do you really think that they won’t sic the GIW on him the first chance they have? I say we go, so we can be his backup. We can see what NASA knows and see if they can be allies. If not, WE get Danny out of there. Distract them, find a way to give him an opening. What if they greet him with ecto guns and shoot him down before he can run or poison him somehow? He might not be able to get out!” Sam ranted.

Jazz stared at the other teen. Her face turning from worry to determination. “You’re right. We don’t know what NASA knows. If they truly want to help, we might be the only ones that can give them the correct information. We can’t trust the government to play nice……I mean, they already keep Amity in the dark and out of the eye of the world.” Jazz crossed her arms; she hunched her shoulders up in concerned thought. “I’m honestly surprised they haven’t done worse to us. Especially with the anti-ecto policy. They could drag any of us off the streets.”

 Tucker nods, his fingers already flying across the keyboard. "I'll start digging into NASA's servers, see if I can find any information about what they know and what their intentions are.”

"Right," Jazz agreed, already pulling out her phone to look up flights. "He might have kept his secret from NASA, but the GIW must know by now, which means the government knows. Which means…... Danny is on borrowed time.”

"We've got his back," Tucker finished, his usual jovial demeanor replaced by the steadfast resolve of a friend ready to wade into the unknown. "Just like he's always had ours."

***

Jack Fenton's fist slammed down onto the console in his lab, causing a small eruption of sparks from the machinery. "That darn Phantom!" he bellowed, glaring at the image on the computer screen that showed Danny Phantom, or 'Dantom' as the media had begun to call the figure, standing amongst the astronauts on Mars.

"Jack, calm down," Maddie pleaded, her voice strained with concern, her eyes not leaving the second monitor that displayed a map with their son Danny's last known locations—each point a dead end.

"Can't you see what he's doing, Maddie? Pretending to be an alien just to gain fame! It's infuriating!" Jack's face was red with anger, and his hands shook as he raked them through his hair.

"Jack, please," Maddie said, her own frustration barely contained. "We need to focus. Our son is still missing, and if Phantom is on Mars, then he couldn't have taken Danny." Her voice broke slightly on their son's name, revealing the depth of her fear.

"Then who did?" Jack's question hung heavy in the air, unanswered. Together, they returned to the task at hand, capturing and interrogating any spectral entity they could find, hoping one of them held the key to Danny's whereabouts. But it had already been a week. They both felt the cold tendrils of fear crawl into their hearts. The more time that passed without a lead to Danny, the odds of them never finding him increased. The police hadn’t been able to find anything either. Both Jack and Maddie were convinced that a ghost had done it, not the living.

Jack wraps his arms around his wife, pulling her close as he tries to hold back his own tears. "We'll find him, Maddie. We won't rest until we bring Danny home safe and sound. And if a ghost did take him, they'll have to answer to the Fentons."

***

Meanwhile, in his mansion, Vlad Masters paces back and forth, his eyes glued to the television screen. He watches as the news anchors gush over the incredible discovery of an alien child on Mars, his fists clenching tighter with each passing minute.

"Damn you, Daniel," he mutters under his breath, his voice dripping with venom. "Of all the attention-seeking stunts you could have pulled, you just had to go and become the world's most famous alien."

Vlad's mind races with possibilities, his anger warring with his ever-present concern of maintaining his own secret identity. "As long as that brat keeps his mouth shut about our true nature, I suppose I can let him bask in the limelight for now," he muses, a calculating glint in his eye.

“But be careful, little Badger, one slip up, and I’ll have you locked away for all eternity.” Vlad thought. He could live without making him his adopted son. After all, without that pesky brat getting in the way, he could kill Jack and take Maddie all for himself. He could always make more sons.

With a final glance at the television, Vlad settles into his armchair; his fingers steepled as he begins to plot his next move. He knows that patience is key, and he's more than willing to bide his time until the perfect moment arises to strike.

***

A cacophony of angry voices rebounded off the walls in the stark, sterile confines of the GIW’s operations center. Agents clad in their customary suits huddled around monitors that showed an endless loop of the image that had ignited worldwide speculation.

"Sir, the public's eating this up," a junior analyst said, tapping her tablet to bring up social media reactions. "Public opinions are mostly positive.”

Agent A glared in anger. “We can't let Phantom continue this masquerade. It's... it's a national security threat!"

Agent O nods in agreement, his jaw set in a grim line. "We need to get the President on our side. If we can convince him that Phantom is a danger to the country, he'll have no choice but to hand him over to us."

"And once we have Phantom in our custody, we'll make him pay for his deceit," Agent K adds, a cruel smirk twisting his features. "We'll expose him for the evil entity he truly is, and the world will finally see ghosts for the evil beings they are."

Agent A nodded, his expression unreadable behind dark glasses. "Move up the meeting with President Davis by force if necessary. He’ll understand once we explain," he ordered, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of urgency. "It's time we exposed the truth about ghosts, starting with Danny Phantom."

They had been working with the mole in the White House to set up a meeting, but it was clear they needed to educate the higher government sooner rather than later. They would understand and forgive the need for secrecy. Agent A could just see the President agreeing that the GIW needed to take funds in secret.

Agent A paused a nagging thought clawed at the back of his mind. “Agent O, how about you take this mission? I want you to meet with the President. Can I trust you? To make the President understand by any means necessary?”

Agent O straightened, purpose igniting within him. "Yes, Director. I'll make sure the president understands the gravity of the situation. I’ll do whatever it takes; you can count on me!"

As agents scurried to carry out their orders, TVs nationwide aired President Davis' call for unity and cooperation with the alien species. The channel switched to an UN assembly where diplomats voiced their concerns and criticisms, the atmosphere fraught with tension.

***Back on Mars****

Commander Melissa Lewis glanced at the beds lining the wall, her gaze lingering on the one where Dantom lay curled up, seemingly asleep.

"Alright, let's keep it down," she murmured, her voice carrying the authority.

"Let's go over our tasks once more," Lewis began, her eyes scanning the expectant faces. "We need to find a way to get Dantom what he needs —"

"Commander," interrupted Johanssen, her brow furrowed. I think we need to address the elephant in the room first." She gestured subtly toward Danny, " like how he can speak English and how Vogal can speak this alien language.”

Lewis nodded slowly, acknowledging the point. "You're right, Beth. This situation with Dantom... it's complicated things."

"Complicated is an understatement," Rick Martinez chimed in, his skepticism a stark contrast to his usually jovial demeanor. "He lied to us about speaking English. What else isn't he telling us?"

"Exactly," Lewis agreed, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. "It concerns me deeply. Not just that he wasn't honest from the start but also that his interaction with humanity has obviously been negative. If someone on Earth hurt him... We need to be careful how we handle this."

"Whatever his reasons for hiding the truth," Lewis continued, her voice firm yet tinged with empathy, "we have to remember he's just a kid. And he's scared. Let's not forget that."

Alex Vogel cleared his throat, drawing the room's focus. He stood with an engineer's precision, his face somber yet earnest. "I spoke with Dantom," he glanced toward the slumbering figure. "And I believe I understand how we can communicate."

The others leaned in, curiosity piqued.

"Back in Germany, when I was a child, I nearly drowned in a lake during a family outing," Vogel began, his voice steady despite the personal nature of his story. "From what Dantom told me, experiences like that allow for one to understand and, in some circumstances, speak what he calls, ‘Soul Speak’.”  

"Wait, you're saying because you almost died once, you can understand him?" Rick Martinez interjected, disbelief etching his features. "That sounds like something out of a fantasy."

"Perhaps it does," Vogel conceded with a nod. “But We don’t have much else to go on.”

“I can’t prove anything or disprove anything, for that matter. Nothing stands out in Vogel’s vitals, and nothing that stands out as odd from everyone else.” Beck said.

"Sure, but English? How does some near-death childhood experience explain him knowing our language?" Rick pressed, folding his arms across his chest as he scrutinized Vogel with a sharp gaze.

Vogel met Rick's skepticism with a calm resolve. "I do not claim to have all the answers, Rick. But our communication transcended mere words. It was as if we connected on a level beyond language—a shared understanding."

Rick's frown deepened, and he looked away. There was no protocol for otherworldly linguistics.

"Regardless of how it works," Vogel continued, addressing the group, "it's clear that Dantom has knowledge far exceeding our own in certain areas. We should consider the potential for learning from him."

Beth Johanssen leaned forward. “From what he said, he’s been on earth before, maybe he’s been there awhile…...but clearly someone hurt him….” Beth pointed out, trailing off with a hint of sadness in her tone.

Chris Beck shifted in his chair, the physician in him analyzing the boy's reactions from earlier interactions. "That would mean he's been among us—hiding in plain sight, or worse, a captive……someone hurt him, and it’s possible he learned English from his captors. And it would explain why he lied to us…...he was scared.”

Commander Lewis gave a heavy sigh. “We better hope it wasn’t the US government. THAT will complicate things.”

“Still doesn’t explain how he got here, and yes, I know he said by portal…...but a lot is missing from that story,” Mark commented.

“Maybe he found a way back to this ‘infinity realm’ as he escaped somehow. Maybe he got caught, then escaped, and then somehow ended up here?” Rick babbled on.

Vogel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We really don’t know how these ‘portals’ work and even how much of what the kid said was the truth.”

Beck crossed his arms in thought. “Either way, he needs this ecto-deposit. He’s weak. If we want to help him, we either find the deposit here or leave for earth.”

“I’ll contact command, I think our best bet is getting him back to earth.” Commander Lewis said. She turned to her computer screen to send off the message.

Mark Watney stepped up to Lewis’s side. He leaned over and whispered to her. “Maybe find a way to let command know that someone hurt him back on Earth.”

*sigh* “I plan to Watney.” Lewis replied.

“Yeah, but are you adding in the possibility it was us…. like the US government? Like this could be our fault, well, not OUR fault, but someone down there. What I’m trying to say is that we should come up with a backup plan to make sure he’s safe and we’re not handing him over to the wrong people.”

Lewis frowned. NASA would not like to hear this theory. But with NASA being a more public institution they might have a chance at protecting the kid or at least making him known to the public. “Keeping him in the public eye should help…...not just our public but the world.”

“Right! THAT way they can’t lock him away in area 51.” Mark replied.

Chapter Text

-On Earth: Amity Park-

As the rusted gate creaked open, Sam stomped into the abandoned playground, her combat boots crunching against the overgrown weeds. This playground was apart of an old Elementary school. It had been shut down long before their time. The city had taken its sweet time in demolishing it. And now with more ectoplasm seeping into the city from the man-made portal and the increase of natural portals, it was near impossible. The increased ectoplasm had given form to some specters that haunted these halls. An old Janitor that died of a heart attack and even a few children ghosts, those that had died of food allergies. Any attempt at demolishing it now would trigger a ghost attack from the spirits that claimed this territory as their haunt.

Tucker and Jazz were already there, hanging out on an old metal merry-go-round. Tucker Foley was messing with his PDA, his fingers dancing over the keys. While Jazz Fenton flipped through a thick psychology textbook, her red hair catching the waning light.

The metal creaked and groaned as Sam took a seat. Sam's eyes darted around, taking in the overgrown bushes and vines that had begun to reclaim the space.

Sam, Tucker, and Jazz spun slowly, their feet dragging in the dirt to keep them grounded. They had chosen this spot for its isolation and the cover provided by the overgrowth of nature.

Jazz looked to the old decaying building to their right. Her gaze lingering on a spectral figure that drifted aimlessly through a dilapidated classroom window. The ghostly janitor, with his ethereal mop and bucket, seemed to be on an endless loop of cleaning invisible messes.

 Jazz turned away and shook her head, it was time to focus. “Tucker, did you find anything?”

Tucker nodded his head in the affirmative, his fingers flew over his PDA screen, bringing up a series of encrypted files he'd managed to snag before his digital eviction from NASA's network. "They think Danny's an alien. That's the narrative they're working with."

"An easy mistake to make, I guess, given his powers," Sam conceded, her arms crossing defiantly.

"So, do they know anything else?" Jazz asked.

“They knew he was hurt on earth.” Tucker replied, “But, guys, it gets worse," Tucker warned, tapping into another document. "I also took the time to hack into the GIW files, from what I gathered, there's been communication between the GIW and certain government officials. It's all under the table, unofficial... but it's happening."

"The anti-ghost acts might not even be legal," Tucker continued. He shrugged helplessly; his usual confidence dimmed by the gravity of their situation. "They're rogue. Operating on their own twisted agenda and they have been lying this whole time, they were disbanded decades ago."

Jazz shook her head. “This is a mess."

 Sam's gaze hardened as she turned to the others. "We can't let the GIW get to the president or NASA first," she insisted, her voice a low growl. The merry-go-round creaked beneath them.

"Agreed," Jazz nodded, her eyes scanning the decrepit equipment around them, the shadows seeming to cling to the rusting metal like cobwebs. "We need to make sure the right story gets out there."

"And we can play into the alien narrative, that’s easy enough. We don’t have to expose Danny completely, just let them know what’s happening here, and that ghost are just like us, not evil monsters.” Tucker added, his tablet casting an eerie glow on his face. "Danny's secrets stay safe, but if we can help paint him in a good light.”

"Right," said Sam, her mind racing. "We take some of the Fenton tech with us. It'll help sell the story and might even give us an edge."

"Splitting up is our best bet," Jazz proposed, her fingers tapping against her knee rhythmically. "Cover more ground that way."

They were about to break their huddle when the unmistakable sound of branches snapping underfoot caught their attention. In unison, they turned towards the disturbance, hearts pounding in anticipation.

A figure burst through the overgrowth, stumbling into the clearing. It was Wes, his ginger hair unmistakable even in the dim light.

Before he could utter a word, Sam launched herself at him, tackling him to the ground with precision borne of countless encounters with ghosts. She pressed the cold barrel of an ecto gun against his forehead, her eyes blazing with fury.

"What are you doing here, Wes?" she demanded, her voice seething with contempt. "Spill it, before I decide your intentions don't matter."

"Wait, wait!" Wes gasped, his hands raised defensively. "I'm not here to cause trouble. I—I want to help!"

"Help?" Sam's grip on the ecto gun didn't waver; skepticism etched into every line of her face. "You've been obsessed with exposing Danny. Why the sudden change of heart?"

"Because... because I knew!" Wes blurted out, desperation creeping into his voice. "I always knew Phantom and Danny were the same person. I wanted to prove it, sure, but not to hurt him. When I saw that picture of him with the crew on Mars, I knew he was in trouble."

"Help how?" Sam's tone softened slightly, though she kept him pinned.

"I want to help protect Danny," Wes said earnestly, meeting her gaze. "To show everyone the truth, but without the damage. I swear."

Sam kept the ecto gun trained on Wes while her mind raced. Could they afford to trust him? Tucker paced in the background, casting dubious glances toward Wes, his brow creased with suspicion. Jazz knelt beside Sam, her voice steady and calm.

"Sam," Jazz said, placing a hand on her shoulder, "we can't just shut out every potential ally. We need all the help we can get."

"He's a liability," Tucker interjected sharply, adjusting his glasses. "He's been stalking Danny for months, trying to blow his cover."

Wes's eyes flickered between them, a hint of frustration breaking through his plea. "Look, I know I've been... intense about the whole Phantom thing. But I really can help. The government and NASA need to understand there's a ghost problem in Amity but that they’re not all bad. I started a video blog of interviewing ghosts…...granted at first it was to see if any of them knew Danny’s secret and would spill on camera…..but the more I did it, the more I saw they were people too. I think this could help humanize them.” His voice held an edge of earnestness that gave Sam pause.

Jazz nodded thoughtfully. " We do want to shed light on ghosts in a positive way. What kind of things where asked in these interviews?"

"Well, like I said, at first, it had questions that would try to get them to spill on Danny’s secret, but I’ve started doing interviews that just ask about their life or, well, un-life. It could help your cause.”

Sam lowered the ecto gun, though her grip remained firm. "If you're playing us—"

"I'm not," Wes cut in, his gaze steady. "I swear."

The four gathered around the creaky old merry-go-round, the conversation ebbing and flowing as they weighed their options. Finally, they reached a consensus.

"Alright," Sam conceded with a heavy sigh. "You're in. But if you double-cross us..."

"Wouldn’t dream of it!" Wes replied with a nod, which was true; he did not want to deal with the angry goth.

"Okay, team," Jazz announced, standing up and brushing dirt from her jeans. "Tucker and Wes, you'll head to NASA. Try to figure out what they know and steer them in the right direction."

"Got it," Tucker replied, offering Wes a reluctant handshake.

"And Sam and I will take DC," Jazz continued. "We'll approach the situation diplomatically. Maybe we can unravel some of the GIW's lies."

"Then it's settled," Sam said, her voice hardened by resolve. "Let's do this—for Danny."

-Mars-

The day of departure arrived, and with it, calamity.

A warning message popped up on the hab’s computer screen.  Rick Martinez's head snapped up, his eyes locking with Commander Lewis's as the radar showed a huge dust storm was incoming.  He leapt into action, knowing the unforgiving Martian landscape afforded no mercy to those caught unawares.

"Gear up, people!" Lewis barked, urgently thrumming in her voice. "We're on the clock!"

With practiced efficiency, the crew scrambled into their bulky EVA suits. Rick’s gaze tracked to Dantom, who stood apart. The boy's pale hands trembled, betraying his reluctance.

"Dantom," Rick called out, trying to mask his concern with a steady tone. "Let's get you suited up, kid."

But Dantom wasn't moving. His haunted eyes fixed on the suit laid out for him like an omen of the confinement to come. Rick could see the internal struggle playing out across Dantom's features, the fear of returning to Earth where threats loomed larger than any Martian storm.

"Hey," Rick said softly, stepping closer and crouching to meet Dantom's gaze levelly. "I know this is tough, but we need to keep you safe. It's just for a little while longer, okay?"

Dantom's resistance was palpable as Rick eased him into the suit. The fabric rustled loud in the tense quiet, the oversized limbs flopping awkwardly around Dantom's smaller frame. Rick worked quickly, ignoring the scowls that came his way, securing each seal with care. When he was done, Dantom looked like a child playing dress-up in a parent's clothes, but it would keep him alive.

"C'mon, kiddo, work with me here," Rick pleaded, tugging the helmet over the boy's silver hair.

"Up you go," Rick grunted, lifting Dantom onto his shoulder in a smooth motion. Dantom's weight settled against him, a reminder of the responsibility he carried. The boy's expression softened, just a fraction, his fight ebbing away in resignation.

As they stepped outside, the world transformed into a maelstrom of chaos. The wind howled like a living thing, hungry and wild, and sand pelted against Rick's visor with such ferocity that it became his entire universe. He tightened his hold on Dantom, feeling the slight frame press against him through the layers of protective gear.

"Stay close!" Rick shouted into his comm.

Visibility was a mere memory, the red haze swallowing up shapes and distances. The crew kept in a single file line, following Commander Lewis to their ship.

The Martian wind was a frenzied beast, pulling equipment and metal away from the surface and sending them flying. The wind ripped  metal debris up and hurled it at the crew.  Rick dogged to the side, but in the process dropped Dantom to the ground. Behind him the metal debris hit Watney full force, pulling him away from the group and into the storm.

"Man down, Watney's been hit!" Rick shouted into the comm.

"We have to go back for him!" Beth cried.

"We can't, he's gone!" Melissa said harshly. "We'll never find him in this storm."

"Mark!" Rick bellowed, but the wind snatched away his words.

Then, in a burst of adrenaline-fueled determination, Dantom tore from Rick's desperate reach. The boy surged forward, his body slicing through the gale with an urgency that defied the elements. His eyes were set on Mark, the instinct to protect flaring within him.

"Kid, don't!" Rick shouted into the chaos, reaching out only to grasp at the empty air where Danny had been. His hand passed through nothingness; Danny had turned intangible.

"Come back!" Rick's voice was laced with panic, the plea lost amidst the howling winds. He watched helplessly as the storm engulfed Dantom.

"Get to the MAV, now!" Melissa ordered.

"Commander, we can't just—" Johanssen's protest crackled over the radio, cut short by Lewis' unwavering determination.

"Johanssen, that's an order. We're out of time." The wind outside howled like a beast clawing at their vessel. "Our window is closing. I know what we're leaving behind," Lewis said, a hint of sorrow seeping through for just a moment before she composed herself. "Prepare for immediate departure."

As the engines roared to life, the ground beneath Danny trembled. He watched, heart pounding against his ribcage, as the ship rose from the red sands. Fire and smoke trailed behind it. Danny's fists clenched at his sides, his ghostly powers simmering beneath the surface; he could phase through walls, become invisible, but he couldn't fly after them, he was too weak right now, and plus he could not leave Mark.

"Mark..." The name was a whisper torn away by the storm, yet it fueled his desperation. Pushing forward, Danny's eyes scanned the turbulent landscape, searching. The cruel Martian winds through sand and grit into his face, his helmet blocking the worst of it, but the sand was hard to move through. As much as it pained him, he turned intangible to move faster through the storm; his core flared in pain.

*There!*A dark form lay crumpled on the ground a few hundred meters ahead. It might have been a trick of the light or merely another rock shaped by the relentless winds, but Danny knew—it was Mark. His legs moved of their own accord, carrying him across the shifting terrain towards the fallen astronaut.

"Come on, come on," he muttered to himself, each step sinking into the loose sand, making it feel like he was running through syrup. As he drew closer, the shape became unmistakably human, Mark's body unnaturally still against the red dirt.

A shard of metal protruded from Mark's side. Danny's breath hitched in his throat. This was bad.  But he couldn't think about that now. All that mattered was getting Mark to safety, getting him back to the habitat where there were medical supplies.

"Mark, hang in there," Danny whispered, his voice lost to the wind as he reached down to grasp the astronaut’s shoulders. His gloved fingers encountered the cold fabric of the EVA suit. Danny tapped into his core again, he cursed in frustration when he was unable to call on his flight. So instead, he used his ghostly strength to drag Mark to the shelter of the Hab.

"Almost there," Danny panted, though the words were snatched away by the relentless gale. He felt it, the strain on his core, like a thread pulled too taut, threatening to snap. Yet he pushed on, propelled by a resolve that wouldn't allow him to falter.

Finally, the silhouette of the hab loomed before them, a monolith against the chaos. With a grunt of exertion, Danny tuned into the ghostly energy inside him and phased, the barrier of the habitat's wall becoming no more substantial than a wisp of mist. They stumbled into the calm air of the interior.

Danny struggled to get Mark out of his suit. Fumbling with seals and fasteners proved fruitless; Danny's fingers trembled with fatigue, betraying him. Resorting to his intangibility once more, he slid the suit off Mark's body with an ease that belied the pain it cost him—his core screaming in silent agony.

Helmet next. It came free with ease. Underneath was Mark's pallid face, streaked with sweat and grime. Danny paused, allowing himself a moment to steel his nerves. Then, with careful hands, he tackled the shard of metal.

"Sorry, Mark," he murmured, gripping the rod and pulling it out.

Blood seeped, dark and damning, but Danny had seen worse—had done worse to himself in times of desperation. His first aid training kicked in, muscle memory guiding him through the motions of cleaning and closing the wound. The suture needle danced through his shaking fingers.

Danny secured the last suture with a final, delicate pull of the thread.

Pain erupted from within Danny's core. He doubled over with a sharp intake of breath, his fists balling up as if to fight off the agony that tore through him. His spectral side fought for dominance, causing his physical form to flicker and wane like a faulty light.

"Come on, just a bit more," he whispered to himself, gritting his teeth against the pain.

Summoning every shred of strength left in his battered frame, Danny reached for the blanket at the foot of Mark's makeshift bed. His hands trembled, and with a great effort, he draped the fabric over Mark's still, unconscious body.

The task complete, Danny's knees buckled, and he fell forward. The cold floor of the hab greeted him, an unforgiving bed for his weary bones. As he lay there, sprawled and defeated, the transformation that he had been staving off claimed its due. His once-white hair darkened to its natural black, the ethereal glow of his jumpsuit fading away.

Chapter Text

Consciousness crept back to Mark Watney in disorienting fragments, the howl of the Martian storm still echoing in his ears. His eyes fluttered open, a dull throb pulsating against his skull. The hab's interior swam into focus as he propped himself up on one elbow, his other hand instinctively reaching for the tender wound stitched along his side.

"Ow," he muttered under his breath. Mark examined the neat row of stitches marching across his skin. "Guess I didn't make it out unscathed," he muttered, gingerly prodding at the wound.

As he turned his head, his gaze fell upon the unconscious figure lying beside him: dark hair, youthful features, a slender frame swathed in an oversized jumpsuit. Mark stared in bafflement.

*Where the hell did the teen come from*

Recognition dawned on Mark, his eyebrows shooting upwards. "Dantom?" he whispered, disbelief coloring his tone.

But no, that couldn't be right. The creature they had discovered - Dantom - had ethereal white hair and an otherworldly glow. This... this was a human teenager.

Curiosity overriding the dull pain in his side, Mark carefully leaned closer to examine the unconscious boy. The stark differences were impossible to ignore. Gone was the luminescent aura that had surrounded Dantom. In its place was pale human skin, the faintest hint of color in the boy's cheeks. The snowy white locks had darkened to a deep, inky black.

With a gentle hand, Mark reached out and carefully lifted one of the boy's eyelids. Instead of the vibrant, glowing green he had grown accustomed to, he found himself staring into a startlingly ordinary blue iris.

"What the hell?" he breathed, his mind racing with possibilities.

Mark wondered what had triggered the transformation.

*Was it the storm? Over-exertion? I’ll have to ask the kid when he wakes up. *

Fingers drifting down to the boy's neck, Mark pressed against the pulse point, expecting the slow, steady rhythm he had felt before. Instead, he was greeted by a strong, rapid heartbeat, thumping away at a pace that was unmistakably human.

"This doesn't make any sense," Mark muttered, rocking back on his heels. His scientific mind whirled, trying to piece together the puzzle before him. Dantom had been an enigma from the start, but this transformation defied all logical explanation.

With a heavy sigh, Mark ran a hand through his disheveled hair. It was then he noticed the life monitor on his suite was broken. Mark reached over Dantom’s suit and looked at his monitor. It, too, was broken. The kid had managed to get the suit off before falling unconscious.  Now, the teen still wore the Ares jumpsuit they had given him. It hung loose on his skinny frame.

*Shit, they probably think we’re dead. * Mark thought. He had already pieced together from the empty hab that his crew mates probably left without them. *This isn't good…. *

Carefully, Mark slid his hands beneath Dantom's shoulders and knees, wincing as the movement pulled at the stitches in his side. Ignoring the pain, Mark lifted the boy with all the care he could muster and carried him to the nearest bed.

Mark laid Dantom down on the mattress, taking care to position him comfortably. He reached for a blanket from a nearby storage compartment and draped it over the boy's still form, tucking it around his shoulders to ensure he stayed warm.

Dantom released a soft sigh, turning his head towards Mark in his sleep. Mark smiled softly, brushing a hand over Dantom's hair. "Rest easy, kiddo," he murmured.

Mark's gaze lingered on Dantom's face as he stepped back, searching for any sign of awareness. But the boy remained motionless, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath.

Driven by a need for answers, Mark moved to the supplies cabinet, his mind already formulating a plan. He gathered the necessary supplies with deft movements: a syringe and a collection tube.

"Alright, let's see what's really going on here," Mark said, rolling up Dantom's sleeve to access his arm. He drew a blood sample with practiced precision, his eyes narrowing in concentration. The syringe filled with unmistakably red liquid but speckled with tiny flecks of green.

Mark held it up to the light, his eyes narrowing as he examined the unusual sample.

He then carried the blood sample to the microscope. He carefully prepared a slide and placed it under the lens.

"Red blood cells, white blood cells... and something else," he mused, peering through the microscope. The presence of human DNA was undeniable. But it was altered by the strange foreign cells.

"Half-human," Mark murmured, his voice barely breaking the silence of the hab. "You've got to be."

Mark stepped back from the microscope, rubbing the bridge of his nose in thought.

 They were alone on Mars, and he was stuck with a scared teen that was more than likely from Earth. Granted, the glaring question of how and what was ever-present. But there would be plenty of time for answers. Besides, there were other, higher priorities, like food and connecting back to Earth. If they didn’t gain communication, survival would be useless.

"Okay, Watney," he muttered to himself, "time to science the sh—"

A soft groan cut through his thoughts, drawing his gaze to the bed where Dantom lay.

Mark watched as the teen's gaze darted around the hab, confusion, and fear etched across his face.

Then, sudden realization dawned in those bright blue eyes, and Dantom bolted upright in a panic.

"No, no, no!" he gasped, staring down at his human hands.

Mark quickly moved to Dantom's side. "Hey, easy there," he soothed, resting a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder.

Dantom flinched away, trembling. His breathing came in short, frantic gasps as his wide eyes darted around the hab.

"Dantom, look at me," Mark urged gently. "Just breathe. Nice and slow."

Gradually, Dantom's panic attack subsided under Mark's calm voice. The terror in his eyes faded to weariness and distrust.

"You've been through a lot," Mark said, his voice filled with determination. "Whatever it takes, we'll find a way to contact NASA and get ourselves off this planet. But first, I need you to tell me everything. No more secrets, no more hiding. If we're going to survive, we need to trust each other completely."

Dantom flinched at these words, looked down at his lap, and started fidgeting with his hands. "I... I was scared," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. I didn't know if I could trust you, if you would turn me over to the GIW..."

Mark's heart clenched at the fear in Dantom’s voice. Mark filed the name of the GIW away for later. "I get it," he said, his voice soft with understanding. "But, Dantom, we're a team now. We don’t hide things from teammates. You aren’t alone.”

Dantom looked up at him, “You mean that?" he asked, his voice trembling with emotion.

Mark nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Absolutely," he said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "From now on, we're in this together. No matter what happens, I've got your back."

Dantom nodded, his gaze flickering down to his hands once more. "I... I don't know where to start," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Start from the beginning," Mark encouraged, settling himself on the edge of the bed. "I'm here to listen, and I promise you, no matter what you tell me, I'm not going to judge you.

Danny took a deep breath, his fingers nervously fidgeting with the blanket's edges. "My real name is Danny Fenton, and I'm from Amity Park, Illinois. I know it sounds crazy, but I'm... I'm half-ghost."

Mark raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. "Half-ghost? You mean like Casper the Friendly Ghost?"

A faint smile tugged at Danny's lips. "Not exactly. It's more complicated than that." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "There's a dimension called the Ghost Zone. It exists parallel to our own, and it's home to all sorts of spectral beings. My parents... they're ghost hunters. They built a portal to bridge the gap between our world and the Ghost Zone."

"So these 'ghosts' are really just...aliens?" Mark suggested.

"No! I mean, yes, in a way, but..." Danny faltered. This was even harder than he'd thought.

Mark regarded him curiously. "So if you're from Earth, how'd you end up half whatever?"

Danny winced. Even now, the memories stung. "There was an accident. My parents built a portal to the ghost zone in our basement. It didn't work at first, so I went inside to check it out. That's when it turned on."

Mark's eyes widened in understanding and horror. "You were inside when it opened a doorway to another dimension?"

Danny nodded mutely. He swallowed hard, his voice trembling. "It changed me. Ectoplasm fused with my DNA, and I became half-human, half-ghost."

"Good grief, kid." Mark’s gut turned in horror. What kind of parents would build something so dangerous in their own home with their child?

"So, these ghosts," Mark ventured, shelving that horrible image of the kid getting fried "they're not just urban legends or tourist gimmicks?"

Danny shook his head. "No, they're real. And some of them... some of them are dangerous. That's why my parents hunt them, to protect people."

Mark frowned a sudden realization dawning on him. "But if you're half-ghost, doesn't that make you...?"

"A target?" Danny finished, his eyes darkening. "Yeah, it does. There are people out there, government agents……. they’re the ones who hurt me……before a wild portal dragged me here.”

Mark shook his head in disbelief. "That can't be legal.”

Danny nodded grimly. "They don't care. They've captured me…..hurt me…..doing all kinds of painful experiments and stuff." He shivered at the memory.

Mark stared in concern. "The US government didn’t seem to know what you where, when we told them about you…...somethings not right, I believe you, it’s just somethings not adding up.”

"Well, government lies, and you'd be surprised what they can get away with in the name of national security," Danny said darkly.

Mark set his jaw; the idea of some Wack-job group of government scientists hurting this kid boiled his blood with anger. "Well, they won't get away with it anymore. Not if I have anything to say about it."

Danny looked at him in surprise. "You'd do that? Stand up to the Guys in White?"

"Absolutely," Mark declared. "We're a team now, you and me. And I'm not about to let anyone hurt my team."

Danny smiled, immensely grateful.

Mark grinned and ruffled Danny's hair. "Don't worry, we'll be outlaw space pirates.”

Danny laughed at that mental image.  

"Alright, space outlaw, tell me everything you need," Mark continued, eager to maintain the lighter atmosphere. "If you're feeling unwell, weak, or anything—just let me know."

Danny shifted uncomfortably on the bed, his face pale and drawn. "I'm not feeling so great," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I think I might need some more ecto soon."

Mark frowned, concern etched into his features. "Can you switch back to your other form?" he asked, hoping that the transformation might alleviate some of Danny's symptoms.

With a nod, Danny struggled to his feet. He then closed his eyes, concentrating. Moments later, he doubled over in pain, a soft groan slipping from his lips. Mark immediately moved to help him lay down, cursing under his breath.

"Okay, bad idea," Mark quipped, trying to mask his concern. "Let's, uh, put that on the 'do not try again' list.

Danny managed a weak chuckle, appreciating Mark's attempt at levity. "Yeah, probably a good idea," he agreed, breathing still labored from the effort.

Mark's mind raced as he considered their options. They were stuck on Mars, with limited resources and no way to contact Earth. But if Danny needed ecto to survive, then they would have to find a way to get it for him.

"Alright, here's the plan," he said, his voice taking on a note of determination. "We know there's an ecto deposit somewhere on this planet. So, once you're feeling up to it, we'll go out and find it. Together."

Danny's eyes widened in surprise. "You'd do that for me?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"Of course," Mark replied without hesitation. "We're a team, remember? And teammates look out for each other."

Mark shook his head fondly, and he moved on to other matters with a huff. "Our suit monitors got fried in the storm," he said gravely. "NASA probably thinks we bit the dust out here."

“Right..." Danny trailed off, looking down at his hands.

“We’ll have to get communication with them, to get help and off this planet.” Mark continued.

Danny fidgeted, then asked, “If we do get into contact, could you still let them think I’m an alien?”

Mark frowned, “Now, I don’t like this ‘if’ talk, we will get contact.” Mark placed a reassuring hand on Danny’s shoulder. “Remember? Pirate outlaws? I won’t let them hurt you. I promise you NASA won’t hurt you either.”

Danny looked away. But Mark could feel some tension leaving the boy’s shoulder.

"Okay," Danny muttered, not making eye contact. "What's the plan?

"First step: we brainstorm a way to phone home. Then, we tackle the great Martian outdoors and find you some of that ecto stuff you need. But one crisis at a time." Mark stood up, rolling his shoulders back as he looked around the hab for anything that could be of use.

Somehow, Mark would make sure this boy made it home.

Chapter Text

The flickering neon of the cheap motel sign cast an eerie glow through the thin curtains. Sam paced the worn carpet, her combat boots leaving imprints in the fibers.

"Are you done with that letter yet, Jazz?" Sam groaned, flopping onto the creaky bed.

Jazz looked up from her laptop, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Almost. I want to make sure it's perfect. We can't afford any mistakes when requesting a meeting with the President."

Sam rolled her eyes. "This is taking too long," Sam growled, running a hand through her raven hair. "Every second we waste, those GIW creeps get closer to the President."

"Patience, Sam. We need to do this the right way," Jazz replied, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

Sam's fists clenched. “They left him! They think he’s dead…….and he is…...but they think he’s dead dead. We don’t know how long Danny has; just cause he’s a halfa doesn’t mean he can survive for long up there.”

“Well, they think he’s an alien; they don’t know he’s a ghost. They don’t know anything. Which is why we need this meeting before the GIW.” Jazz mumbled as she continued to type.

Sam stood abruptly. "I need some air. This room is suffocating me."

As she slammed the door behind her, Sam's mind raced. She couldn't wait any longer. Danny needed them now. Her hand brushed against the Fenton shrink ray in her pocket, and a plan began to form.

Thirty minutes later, Sam found herself on a White House tour, "And here we have the East Room," the guide droned. Sam's violet eyes darted, searching for an opening.  As the group rounded a corner, she ducked behind a large potted plant and activated the shrink ray.

The world suddenly loomed impossibly large around her.

Sam steadied herself, now barely taller than a mouse. "Okay, Manson, you got this," she whispered.

She hurried along the baseboard, every sense on high alert. Voices ahead made her freeze. Two men in pristine white suits rounded the corner, following a nervous-looking aide.

Sam's blood ran cold. The Guys in White. Here. Now.

"This way, gentlemen," the aide murmured. "The President will see you shortly."

“I still can’t believe they left the ghost there on Mars.” One of the GIW agents said.

The other agent nodded in agreement.  “No matter; once we speak to the president, we can retrieve the ghost body and eliminate the ecto-scum once and for all.”

Panic clawed at Sam's throat. She pressed herself against the wall, wishing herself invisible. Agent W passed inches from her, his polished shoe a gleaming monolith.

Suddenly, a shrill beeping pierced the air. Agent W's wristwatch flashed, its ecto-detector going haywire. His head snapped down, eyes widening behind dark sunglasses as he spotted Sam's tiny form.

"Ecto scum!" he bellowed, his booming voice nearly deafening Sam at her current size.

In one fluid motion, Agent W yanked out his pocket ray gun. The weapon hummed to life, its barrel glowing an eerie green.

Sam's heart leapt into her throat. "Oh, crud," she muttered, her legs pumping furiously.

Agent W's finger squeezed the trigger. A blast of ecto-energy sizzled past Sam, scorching the polished floor mere inches from her feet.

"What are you doing?!" Agent F hissed, grabbing his partner's arm. "We're in the White House!"

But Agent W shook him off, firing wildly. "It's contaminated! We have to neutralize the threat!"

"Are you insane?" the aide, who was the GIW mole, hissed, panic evident in his voice. "You'll blow our entire operation!"

But Agent W was beyond reason, his face contorted with zealous rage. "No ghost or ghost lover escapes the Guys in White!"

Another blast. Sam leaped, the heat searing her clothes. She zigzagged across the floor, desperate for cover.

The hallway erupted in chaos. Alarms blared, and heavy footsteps pounded in the distance. Agent W's voice rose above the din: "Come out and face justice, you miniature menace!"

"W, holster your weapon now!" Agent F pleaded, grabbing his partner's arm again.

But it was too late. The sound of safeties clicking off filled the air as White House security converged on their position.

Sam dove behind a column supporting a bust of George Washington, her tiny form trembling.

"Drop your weapons and get down on the ground, now!" The commanding voice of the lead CIA agent ricocheted off the marble walls, brooking no argument. She stood squarely, her eyes fixed on the GIW agents, her own gun drawn and steady.

Amidst the tension, Sam seized her moment. She fumbled for the shrink ray tucked in her pocket, her fingers trembling as they wrapped around the cool metal.

Agent W snarled, "This is GIW business! You have no jurisdic—"

Before he could finish, Sam aimed and fired. A brilliant blue beam engulfed both GIW agents. In an instant, they shrank to three inches tall, their shouts of surprise becoming high-pitched squeaks.

The room fell into a stunned silence.

"Wha— What the hell just happened?" one of the security guards stammered, his voice barely above a whisper as he stared at the diminutive forms of the once formidable GIW operatives.

"Contain them," ordered the lead CIA agent.

Sam peeked out of her hiding spot, watching as one of the CIA agents finally snapped out of his shock and scooped up the diminutive GIW agents in his massive hand.

"Let us go, you giant oaf! We're on official business!" one of the tiny agents protested, shaking a minuscule fist.

"Official business?" The CIA agent held them closer to his face, scrutinizing them with bewildered fascination. "You mean terrorizing people with your... toy guns?"

"Those aren't toys!" the other pint-sized agent piped up, indignant. "And we're after an ecto threat. A ghost!"

"Ghost?" The agent's expression shifted from bewilderment to incredulity. "Are you serious?"

Before he could probe further, his partner called out.

"Hey, you! Stop right there!" he barked, causing the aide to freeze in his tracks.

"I saw him with those men in white," another agent said, gesturing towards the tiny GIW agents dangling between their colleague's fingers.

"Look, it's all a misunderstanding," the mole stammered, his back pressed against the cool wall, hands raised in a placating gesture. "Just let me explain—"

"Explain later," the lead CIA agent barked.

The lead CIA agent's brow furrowed in confusion. She turned to her colleague, who was now on his hands and knees, peering behind the column. “What the hell are you doing, Nelson?”

 "There's another one," Nelson said, his voice filled with incredulity. "I saw another tiny; they were peeking out behind the bust."

Sam's heart raced as she saw Agent Nelson's enormous face appear, looking down at her between the gap between the column and wall. She gripped the shrink ray tightly, her palms sweaty.

"Come out with your hands up!" Agent Nelson demanded, his voice booming in Sam's ears.

Sam took a deep breath and shouted back, "I'm not coming out! I need to speak with President Davis. It's urgent!"

Agent Nelson looked thoughtful, "It's... it's just a kid," he muttered to his partner.

Sam's voice trembled slightly as she continued, "If you try to force me out, I'll shrink you too!" She aimed the ray gun at the agent's massive face, hoping he couldn't see how badly her hands were shaking.

The agent holding the GIW agents scoffed. "We could easily neutralize her at that size. There'd be nothing left."

Sam's stomach churned at his callous words.

Nelson raised a hand to quiet his partner. "Easy now, it's just a kid," he said softly, his tone shifting to a more soothing cadence.

Sam's nerves were frayed, her finger twitching on the trigger. *I need to show them I mean business, * she thought. With a surge of adrenaline, she aimed just past the agent's ear and fired.

A bright beam shot out, narrowly missing the agent and striking a painting. In an instant, the artwork shrank to the size of a postage stamp.

"Whoa there!" Nelson exclaimed, his eyes wide with astonishment. He took a deep breath, visibly trying to regain his composure. "Look, why don't you come out, and we can talk about this? I promise we'll hear you out."

Sam's heart pounded. She knew she was cornered. "I-I'll only come out if you promise to take me to the president," she demanded.

Nelson sighed, considering her request. "Look, I'll see what I can do, okay?" He extended his hand, palm up. "But first, you need to come out."

Sam glared at the offered hand, her mind racing. *Even if I shrink him, he could still overpower me,* she thought. *And hurting them won't help my case with the president. * Reluctantly, she stepped out from behind the column.

As she approached the giant hand, Sam flinched involuntarily. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and climbed onto the waiting palm. As the hand rose, she lost her balance, grabbing the agent's thumb to steady herself. It was like grasping the trunk of a young tree, her fingers barely reaching around its circumference.

Nelson stared at her in wonder. "I can't believe I'm holding a tiny person," he murmured.

His other hand approached, and Sam tensed. "I need that weapon," he said firmly.

Sam hesitated, her grip tightening on the shrink ray. This device was her only way back to normal size.

"Listen," Nelson continued, his tone firm but not unkind, "don't make me take it. Just hand it over."

Realizing she had no choice, Sam reluctantly handed over the device, and a new plan formed in her mind. *Maybe being small isn't such a disadvantage, * she thought. *They might underestimate me. I can use that. *

The agent's fingers, each as wide as she was tall, pinched the device between them with surprising delicacy.

"Thank you," he said. He then secured the tiny piece of technology in his pocket.

His giant fingers curled loosely around her, cradling Sam in the palm of his hand as he walked down the hallway.

****

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as Sam found herself deposited into a glass jar. The transparent walls curved around her, distorting her view of the sterile interrogation room. She pressed her tiny palms against the glass, feeling utterly exposed and vulnerable.

Sam watched the CIA agents place the shrunken GIW operatives into similar containers.

"I can't believe what I'm seeing," one agent muttered, peering at the miniaturized men in white. "It's like something out of a sci-fi movie."

Another agent shook his head, his face a mask of disbelief and annoyance. "An unauthorized ghost-hunting organization? Operating with government funds? The President's going to have a field day with this one."

Sam's stomach churned as she overheard snippets of the GIW agents' frantic explanations. "Ecto-entities... threat to national security... ghost on Mars..." She watched the two other CIA agents pick up the GIW jar and leave the room. She guessed to question them without her present.

*This is not how I planned this to go,* Sam thought, her heart racing. She watched as two CIA agents loomed over her, their faces twisted in a mix of fascination and suspicion. One was Agent Nelson, the other his partner. She hadn’t gotten the man’s name.

Suddenly, the jar was lifted, and Sam found herself face-to-face with a stern-looking CIA agent. "Alright, young lady," he said, his voice booming in her tiny ears. "You better start talking.”

Sam took a deep breath, steadying herself. "My name is Sam Manson," she began, “Look, I know this sounds crazy, but ghosts are real. They're not evil, though! The Guys in White have been attacking innocent people in Amity Park, and they're after my friend!"

Nelson leaned in, his brow furrowed. "And who exactly is this friend of yours?"

Sam hesitated, then blurted out, "Danny Phantom. He's... he's the alien boy on Mars."

The agents exchanged skeptical glances.

"It's complicated," Sam said, frustration creeping into her voice. "But he's in danger, and I need to speak to the President before the GIW convinces him to do something terrible!"

Nelson spoke up, “ I hate to break this to you, but the alien kid was left on Mars, he’s dead along with astronaunt Mark Watney.”

“No, you don’t understand! He’s a ghost, he’s survived worse then an alien planet. But if he stays trapped there, he’ll die!” Sam yelled.

Nelson tilted his head, “If he’s a ghost, how can he die?”

“Ugh! You don’t get it! Look, he’s special, he can die, he’s just tough. Please, he needs help!”

The other Agent sneered, his face contorting with disbelief. "A likely story from a pint-sized terrorist."

Fury bubbled within Sam. These dense agents were jeopardizing everything. "It's the truth! If you'd listen—"

Suddenly, the world became a violent blur. Nelson’s partner had grabbed the jar, shaking it violently. Sam's tiny body slammed against the glass walls, pain exploding through her as she felt warm liquid trickle from her nose. And the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.

"Stop, Roberts!" Agent Nelson's voice cut through the chaos, deep and commanding. He snatched the jar away, cradling it protectively in his large hands. His scowl was fierce as he turned to his partner. "She's a minor, and at this size, you could seriously hurt her. Control yourself!"

Roberts rolled his eyes. "Oh please, she's fine. The little brat is lying through her teeth. Ghosts?  What a joke."

Sam's head spun, her vision blurry. She touched her nose, fingers coming away red.

Sam glared up at him, trying to staunch the flow of blood with her hands. Her whole body ached.

Nelson's massive hand engulfed the jar, and Sam braced herself as he slowly tilted the container, her tiny form tumbling onto his warm, calloused palm. She felt exposed, vulnerable, yet oddly safe in his careful grip.

"Are you alright?" Nelson's voice rumbled above her, his concerned eyes sweeping over her diminutive form.

Sam pushed herself up, her legs wobbling. She wiped at her bloodied nose, glaring past Nelson at Roberts. "When I get big again," she snarled, her voice barely above a squeak, "I'm going to kick your ass so hard you'll wish you'd never been born!"

Nelson's fingers curled protectively around her, forming a gentle cage. "Easy there, firecracker," he murmured, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Roberts scoffed; his face twisted in disdain. "The little brat should rot in juvie for her stunt at the White House.

Sam's blood boiled. How dare he? She opened her mouth to unleash another tirade, but Nelson cut her off.

"Here," he said softly, reaching into his pocket with his free hand. He produced a crisp white handkerchief, offering her the corner. "For your nose."

Sam reached out, her tiny hands grasping the edge of the handkerchief. It unfurled before her like a giant tablecloth, the material soft and cool against her skin. Gratefully, she pressed it to her throbbing nose, the white cotton quickly staining crimson.

Sam's mind raced as she sat cradled in Nelson's palm, the handkerchief dwarfing her diminutive form. She had to find a way out of this mess, and she had to make them believe her.

Nelson watched closely, making sure the tiny rebel in his hand was as comfortable as she could be under the circumstances.

Sam’s eyes flicked up to his, acknowledging the gesture with reluctant gratitude.

Nelson's deep voice resonated through the air. "I think we should take a break." His massive hand moved towards the jar, causing Sam's heart to race. "Sorry, kiddo, but back you go."

Sam's stomach lurched as she was lowered into the glass prison. Nelson guided the handkerchief in after her. She sank into the fabric, feeling dwarfed by its sheer size.

*****

"The President wants to see the girl," Agent Carter, the top CIA agent, announced, her voice crisp. "He's... intrigued by the situation."

Meanwhile, in a secure room, Sam sat cross-legged in her glass jar, the handkerchief she was given draped over her tiny shoulders. She was bored out of her mind.  The door opened, and Agent Nelson entered.

"Looks like you've made quite an impression, Miss Mason," he said, a hint of a smile on his face. He reached for the jar, his hand popping the lid off,  his massive hand descending toward her.

Sam's heart raced. "What's happening?" she asked, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice.

"The President wants to meet you," Nelson replied, his fingers carefully closing around her tiny form. The warmth of his skin enveloped her as he lifted her out.

As they moved through the corridors, Sam's mind whirled. *Should I tell him about Jazz?* she wondered. * No, I better keep that to myself for now. If this goes south, I might need her help to escape. *

Chapter Text

Teddy strode down the hallway. Beside him, Venkat kept pace, though his gait held less urgency.

"Look, Venkat," Teddy said, voice clipped, “the logistics are going to be a nightmare if we don’t outline every detail now. The President’s backing us, but it feels more like a publicity stunt. I swear he wants to dissect that alien child on Mars.”

"Or maybe he wants to save it," Venkat replied, his tone calm as ever. “You’re assuming the kid is dead. What if it's still alive? We can’t just write it off.”

"It’s likely we’re just recovering two corpses," Teddy muttered. "Even if the child is alive, how long can it possibly survive up there?"

"We should at least do it to bring Watney home," he replied evenly. "His family deserves that closure."

Teddy just grunted, his mind already leaping ahead to the impending meeting. He pushed the door open to his office, his mind already formulating a response.

The words died in his throat.

A teenage boy sat casually in Teddy's chair, feet propped up on the polished desk.

Teddy's mouth fell open, his hand instinctively reaching for the phone to call security. But Venkat held up a forestalling hand, curiosity glinting in his dark gaze.

"Can we help you, son?" Venkat asked mildly.

The boy smiled, supremely unconcerned. "In fact, I'm here to help you," he replied. "My name's Wes. Now please sit down. We have a lot to discuss."

 Teddy bristled at the audacity of this teenage intruder, but Venkat put a calming hand on his arm.

"Let's hear him out," Venkat murmured.

"I know you're planning a retrieval mission to Mars," Wes began without preamble. "To bring back Mark Watney's body and the alien child."

Teddy stiffened, "I'm not your enemy, Mr. Sanders. In fact, I aim to help NASA...and to save my friend."

Venkat's gaze sharpened. "You know the alien?"

"His name is Danny," Wes replied evenly. "And he's still alive up there." His youthful face was grave.

Teddy scowled, distrustful of the boy's inside knowledge. But Venkat leaned forward intently.

"How can you be certain Danny's alive?" he pressed.

Movement behind the two adults startled them. Another Teen moved behind them.

Tucker moved swiftly, and with a soft click, he shut the office door, his eyes never leaving Teddy and Venkat.

"Gentlemen," Tucker said, his voice low and steady, "I understand this is... unexpected. But I implore you to hear us out before you do anything rash."

“And who are you?” Venkat asked.

“My name is Tucker…. Foley. Wes and I have information that's crucial to your Mars mission. Information you can't afford to ignore."

Venkat stepped forward, his scientific curiosity piqued. "What kind of information?"

Teddy shot him a warning glance.

"I don't know what you two think you're doing," Teddy said, fighting to keep his voice level. But you have exactly thirty seconds to explain yourselves before I call security."

Tucker raised his hands in a placating gesture. “The alien child is from Earth. I’ve known him since forever, and it all started in a town called Amity Park.”

"Go on," Teddy commanded, his fingers still hovering over his phone.

******
Jazz crept through the ventilation shaft, moving as silently as possible. The metal walls pressed in around her, but she kept her breathing steady. She had to reach Sam and get her away from the President and his agents.

Up ahead, Jazz heard voices - the meeting was still in progress. Gripping her ecto-blaster, she paused above the vent cover. It was now or never. With a swift kick, Jazz knocked the cover loose and dropped into the office in a crouch.

Chaos erupted. Agents shouted in alarm, scrambling for their weapons. Jazz fired a wide stun beam, dropping all of the agents except for one. The blast left them immobilized but unharmed.

"Sorry to crash the party," she quipped, her voice tight with tension.

Only Agent Nelson remained standing, having swiftly positioned himself between the intruder and President Davis.

"Sam!" Jazz called out, her eyes widening at the sight of her miniaturized friend.

"Jazz, I'm fine!" Sam yelled from Nelson's grip. "I had it under control!"

Jazz's jaw dropped. "Under control? You're three inches tall!"

"That's not the point!" Sam huffed indignantly.

Agent Nelson's voice cut through their bickering. "Drop the weapon. Now." His gun was trained steadily on Jazz.

Jazz froze, her mind racing. This isn't how it was supposed to go. She slowly lowered the stun gun, knowing she was outmatched.

"Smart move," Nelson growled, he deposited Sam on the President's desk before turning back to the new prisoner. He snatched the stun gun and cuffed Jazz in one fluid motion.

"Wait." President Davis's voice rang out, laced with intrigue. "Don't take her away just yet. I want to hear what she has to say."

"Sir, she's a threat!" Nelson protested, glancing nervously between his boss and Jazz.

"She's also a guest now." Davis’s voice held an authority that silenced the room. He didn’t really care what she had to say, what he really wanted was access to the technology she had, granted he could have his agents interrogate it out of her, but if he played nice maybe she’d just give him what he wanted.

Jazz's heart pounded. This was her chance. Nelson began to search her, removing various devices including the Fenton Thermos.

"You're a guest here now," Davis said, motioning for Nelson to remove the cuffs. "I'm very interested in learning more about this technology of yours."

Jazz rubbed her wrists, her mind whirling. Jazz watched Nelson warily. The agent confiscated her utility belt and other gadgets. She hadn't expected the President to be so... receptive.

Agent Nelson kneeled to check on his fallen comrades. "They're alive, Mr. President," he reported his voice tight with professional concern. "Just stunned, as far as I can tell."

President Davis nodded, his eyes never leaving Jazz. "Get them medical attention. And have backup standing by."

As Nelson radioed for assistance, Jazz took a deep breath. This was her moment. "Mr. President, My name is Jazz Fenton, and I know this is going to sound crazy, but please hear me out." She paused, gauging his reaction. Davis leaned forward, his expression a mix of skepticism and curiosity.

"For the past year, a government organization called the GIW has been terrorizing my hometown, Amity Park," Jazz continued. "They've labeled citizens as non-human because of a specific type of radiation present in the area."

Davis's eyebrows shot up. "Radiation?"

"It's non-deadly," Jazz quickly clarified. "It's tied to a portal – a gateway to another dimension."

The President's expression shifted from curiosity to disbelief. Jazz's heart sank. *He thinks I'm insane, she thought. But I have to keep going.*

"We've been in contact with beings from this other dimension," she pressed on. "Some are hostile, yes, but there's one – Danny Phantom – who's been protecting us. And he's the one on Mars right now."

"That's quite a claim," Davis said, his tone carefully neutral. "How can you be certain?"

Jazz met his gaze steadily. "The pictures, sir. They match perfectly."

As the words left her mouth, Jazz silently prayed she'd said enough to keep the President's interest. Everything hinged on this moment – Danny's fate, and the future of Amity Park.

President Davis leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. The room fell into a tense silence as he mulled over Jazz's words. His eyes, sharp and calculating, never left her face.

"I'll be frank, Miss Fenton," he finally said, his voice low and measured. "This is a lot to process. But I'm not dismissing it outright."

Jazz's heart leapt. She hadn't expected instant belief, but this was a start.

Davis continued, "If what you're saying is true, it has... significant implications. Both politically and for national security." He paused, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "And I must admit, the prospect of first contact with a new species is intriguing."

"Mr. President," Jazz said, seizing the moment, "I know it's a lot to ask, but Danny Phantom needs protection. And the GIW needs to be investigated. They're operating without oversight, using government funds for what amounts to a witch hunt."

Davis's eyes narrowed at that. "Unauthorized operations and misuse of funds? That I take very seriously."

"Alright," he said at last. "I'm willing to grant protection to this Danny Phantom and look into the GIW's activities. But I want something in return."

Jazz tensed. "What exactly, sir?"

"Access to this technology you've demonstrated," he gestured to the stunner and shrink ray. "And I want to be the first to establish formal contact with these... beings from the other dimension."

Jazz hesitated. "I can agree to that, Mr. President. But you need to understand – The GIW and others have labeled them as ghosts as none beings. But that’s not true, they have their own culture, their own world. They're people, in their own right, and deserve respect."

Davis nodded waving his hand flippantly dismissing her. "Noted. And this portal you mentioned – I want to see it. The security implications alone..."

"I understand," Jazz said. "And speaking of the tech, I can put you in touch with my parents. They're the ones who developed it.” Jazz paused in thought biting her lip. “But be warned, their beliefs might not align with the truth about these beings, it’s honestly really bigoted.”

"Bigoted?" Davis raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “That’s a strong word.”

"Yeah, well, they’ve got their prejudices," she admitted, biting her lip. “Just keep that in mind when you talk to them. It’s important to approach this with an open mind.”

"Noted," he replied, shifting his attention to Agent Nelson, who stood near the door. “Well I suppose you can re-grow your friend. Let’s clear a path then. I want to see this growth ray in action.”

Nelson's nodded, “You got it, sir.” He walked forward and picked up the shrink ray from the president’s desk, and scooped up Sam as well. He placed Sam down on the carpet and reluctantly handed it to Sam. Sam grinned and pointed it at herself. Pressing the trigger to grow herself and the device.

A flash of light enveloped the small figure, and in an instant, the tiny teen began to grow.

******

The shrill ring of the telephone pierced the somber silence of the Fenton household. Jack Fenton, his hulking frame slumped over the kitchen table, jerked upright, knocking over a half-empty mug of cold coffee and a pile of missing person flyers with Danny’s face on them.

"I'll get it!" Maddie called from the living room, her voice strained with forced cheerfulness.

Jack rubbed his bleary eyes, listening to his wife's voice grow increasingly bewildered.

"Yes, this is Maddie Fenton... The CIA? I... I don't understand..."

He lumbered to his feet, crossing to the doorway just as Maddie lowered the phone, her violet eyes wide with shock.

"Jack," she whispered, "it's about Danny Phantom. They want our help to bring him home from... Mars?"

Jack's jaw dropped. His initial excitement faltered as his worry for his son set in. " We need to focus on finding our Danny."

Maddie's expression hardened. "They said if we cooperate, they'll assist in the search for our son." She paused, conflict evident in her furrowed brow. "Jack, this could be our chance to finally capture that ghost boy!"

Jack's face lit up. “We can finally tear that ghost boy apart molecule by molecule!”

Maddie rolled her eyes. “Unfortunately, they said we can’t do any invasive study or harmful study on it.”

“Aw, but it can’t feel.” Jack pouted.

Maddie sighed, her shoulders sagging. "I know, I know. But think of the recognition, the funding! We could expand our research, develop better ghost-hunting tech..."

Jack Brightened again.

"There's more," she continued, her voice lowering. "They... they want to take control of our portal. Said it's a 'matter of national security'."

Jack's face flushed red with indignation. "What?! That's our life's work! How dare they—"

"I know, dear," Maddie cut in, placing a calming hand on his arm. "But maybe... maybe they have a point. We never considered the wider implications of having a doorway to another dimension in our basement."

Jack deflated slightly, torn between his pride as an inventor and the weight of responsibility. "I suppose.......they said they’d help us find our boy, right?”

Maddie's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "We have to believe this will help, Jack. Maybe... maybe this is how we find him. We have to try."

Maddie lifted the phone back to her ear to continue the conversation with the agent.

A complex mix of emotions washed over Maddie. “What?! What do you mean she’s there?!!!”  She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "Can I speak with her?"

Jack leaned in to try to hear the voice on the other side.

"Of course. One moment."

"Mom?" Jazz's voice crackled through the line, a mix of defiance and uncertainty.

"Jasmine Fenton," Maddie began, her voice stern but wavering. "What on earth were you thinking?"

"I had to do something, Mom," Jazz replied, her tone growing more confident. "Someone had to stand up for Phantom, to tell the truth about what's been happening in Amity Park."

Maddie's free hand clenched into a fist. Of course, Jazz was defending that ghost boy. "Sweetie, you don't understand the danger—"

"No, Mom," Jazz interrupted. "You don't understand. Phantom isn't what you think he is. He's been protecting us, all of us, for years."

“Jazzy pazzy! What are you doing there?” Jack exclaimed.

"We'll discuss this when you get home, young lady," Maddie said, trying to maintain her authoritative tone. "For now... just... be careful, okay?"

As she hung up the phone, Maddie turned to Jack, her emotions a tumultuous storm. "Our little girl," she whispered, "she's in Washington, Jack. She's been helping with all of this."

Jack's eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face. "That's my Jazz-princess! Always knew she had it in her to be a ghost hunter!"

Maddie shook her head. "That ghost boy must be messing with her head. It filled it with nonsense. She’s doing this to protect it.”

Jack pulled Maddie into a hug. “We’ll set this all right and capture that abomination, so it can’t get our kids. We’ll show them it’s just a monster, it doesn’t feel. I bet they’ll let us cut into it once they see the truth.”

Chapter Text

Danny sat across from Mark, his legs bouncing nervously. He still wasn’t a hundred percent on board with telling NASA about the true nature of what he was. Regardless of how many times Mark said he’d be safe.

"We've got to contact NASA," Mark said, running a hand through his hair. “But how, is the question, it's not exactly like we can pick up a phone and call home from here."

Danny's fists clenched involuntarily. “Are you sure, it’s a good idea to tell them what I am?”

Mark paused and looked over at Danny. “Ideally yes. But….I guess there’s no harm in telling them later. As long as there are no more secrets with me? Got that Kiddo?” Mark asked leveling Danny with a serious look.

Danny felt the tension leave his body. “Of Course! Promise……no more secrets!”

“Hmmm good……but Danny, they will have to know at some point.”

Danny looked away. “Okay.” He mumbled softly.

Mark patted Danny on the back trying to comfort the teen. “Hey, I promise, no harm will come to you, got it?”

Danny shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, I know.”

Mark clapped his hands together. “Well, that’s settled, we just have to figure out rations until rescue and well get rescue to come.”

“I could eat less….I’d be fine……or if I have to I could get away with nothing…..”

Mark held up a hand interrupting Danny. “No no no, none of that. I’m not starving a teen in my care.” Mark looked Danny in the eye. “Do you need food to function?”

“Well, I can—

“Nope! Wrong answer, do you need it?”

“But I can go without!!”

“You’re not getting it Kiddo, I don’t care if you can go without for a month…...if we can help it we’re not starting off like that.” Mark pulled Danny into a sideways hug.

“I don’t want that unnecessary self-sacrificing attitude, ok?”

“But what if we have too little?”

“If we must, we’ll cut rations, but it’s important you keep your strength too. We must have each other’s backs up here. If you need something, you have to communicate that and not hide something cause you think you’re doing me a favor. That’s not helping, ok?”

“Okay,” Danny said still looking conflicted. “But just so you know, I could go without for a while.”

“How long is awhile?”

“Um….” Danny paused in thought and nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I don’t actually know, but in theory, I should be ok, I could probably go without for a week or probably a month.”

Mark gave Danny a deadpan stare. “So, you’re telling me, you can go without food for a whole month, something you’ve never done….”

“Well…. when you put it like that…. but I could!”

“Danny, kiddo, I feel like we’re going in circles here. Do you need to eat?”

“Well yeah, but if needed I can go without.”

“So can I! Humans can go up to a month without food!” Mark argued back. “Look we’re not at that point. We’ll take our challenges one step at a time, got it.”

“Okay…” Danny relented.

“Well now that, THAT self-sacrificing convo’s out of the way,” Mark said. “Let's take stock of said rations.”

Danny watched as Mark took note of the food supplies.

"I got an idea! Potatoes!" Mark exclaimed; his enthusiasm palpable. "We can grow potatoes right here in the Hab.”

Danny's face contorted into confusion. "Potatoes? How are we gonna do that?”

Mark began pulling out equipment and explaining the process. "We'll use Martian soil, treat it with our own... shall we say, organic matter, and I’ll do the mathy math to get water and create a perfect environment for potato growth."

“I can use my ghost powers, just let me know what you need.”

“Which I’d love to know more about, but be careful I don’t want you to pass out, you still need that ghost fuel right?”

Danny’s shoulders slumped at the reminder. “I promise not to over-extent! I just want to help.”

“OH, I promise, you’ll help.” Mark gave Danny a mischievous grin.

“Wait….what do you mean by Organic matter? Please tell me you don't mean what I think you mean."

Mark laughed, clearly enjoying Danny's discomfort. "Welcome to Space Survival 101, kid. Nothing goes to waste here."

Danny face palmed, he was definitely not looking forward to that.

*****

Danny lay curled up on a bunk. With a blanket draped over him. He had used some of his powers in potato farming. Forming a shield when there was a slight explosion in making water. Which had greatly surprised Mark and impressed the botanist. But it had left him drained, he really needed to get more ectoplasm. But they had managed to plant some potatoes and now only time could tell if they took.

Danny was jolted from his thoughts by Mark handing him a plate of food.

Danny’s objection died on the tip of his tongue at the look Mark gave him.

“Eh, eh eh, none of that now, eat.”

Danny took the food, it was from one of the MRE packets. As Danny took a bite, that’s when he realized his hunger. He didn’t mind the quality and scarfed down his food.

Mark gave him a knowing look but didn’t comment on it, choosing not to bring up their past argument.

“That shield was really cool, what other things can you do?”

Danny paused between bites. “Lots of stuff, I can fly, go invisible, intangible, ghost rays, shields,” Danny listed off ticking up a finger with each one. “Lof stuff, sometimes I get new powers so it’s hard to keep track of everything.”

Mark gave a long whistle. “That’s really awesome, you’ll have to show me when you feel up to it.”

Danny ducked his head bashfully, not used to an adult thinking his abilities were cool and not an abomination or a threat to crush. “Sure!”

"Okay, so potato farm is a go, but we need to figure out how to contact Earth." Mark said changing the subject.

"I've been thinking, once we do get contact, I have some ideas about how to get home….faster that is. Faster than waiting for a return ship.” Danny explained. "We could use the ghost zone, it's this parallel dimension. I have some allies there, that could open a portal, they might be able to open one to Mars….”

Mark's brow shot up in surprise. “Portal? You mentioned the ghost zone before….and that your parents built one?” Mark pushed down the anger he felt at the poor safety measures Danny’s parents had.

“Portals happen all the time….at least in Amity they did. Yeah, my parents have a stable one in their basement…...it’s just a matter of getting them to help.”  

“You don’t think they’ll help?”

“Well, they don’t know about me…… they want to tear my ghost half apart ‘molecule by molecule’, so that’ll be the hard part.”

“You mentioned earlier that they hunt you…. that’s messed up kid.”  What Mark didn’t say was the choice words he had for this kid’s parents. “You do realize that we’d have to tell them…. the truth, and tell NASA the truth if we went that route.”

Danny looked down at his plate of food. “I know. But it would be worth it…. if we can get home sooner.”

Mark gave Danny a soft smile. “I know that’s hard. But I’ll have your back.”

“Thanks, Mark.”

 Mark’s face lit up. "I think I know how we can establish initial contact with NASA. Ever heard of the Pathfinder mission?"

Danny perked up. “Yeah, I have! Isn’t it buried?”

“Yep! We can dig it up and get it working again, we might be able to use its communication systems." Mark explained.

"That... could work," Danny said slowly. "But how do we find it?”

Mark grinned. "Well, I have the information on where It’s buried. I have a few ideas on how to make the tip there. And with your... unique abilities, I think we've got a real shot at this."

Danny nodded, feeling hopeful. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“Danny, can you still sense where that ecto Deposit is?”

Danny blinked at the change of subject. “If I focus, I can a bit.”

“Good if it’s close, we might be able to stop by on the way, or at least scout it out.”

“You don’t have to do—

“Shhhh, yes I do, it’s something you need, we’ll find a way to get it.”

Danny let it go, he felt a strange sense of belonging. He couldn’t remember the last time an adult went out of their way for him.

*****

The Martian sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the excavation site. Danny and Mark stood side by side, their eyes fixed on the partially unearthed form of Pathfinder. It had taken them weeks to get out here. With Danny helping Mark and using his ghost powers to help. Granted after each use Danny felt weaker and weaker.

It took them hours to hitch the pathfinder to their rover. On the long journey back to the hab. Danny jerked to attention at the strong sense of ecto energy. He didn’t know why he didn’t feel it before.

“Mark STOP!”

Mark stopped the rover in surprise.

“It’s there! It’s really close!” Danny said while pointing to a nearby mountain range.

Mark paused. “Are you sure?”

“Positive! I can almost taste it!” Danny replied. “I guess we can come back, or if it’s too far that’s ok.”

“No wait,” Mark said. Mark turned the rover in the direction Danny indicated. “We can at least scout. See if we can get it today, if not we can come back, you need this.”

******

Danny and Mark stood at the yawning mouth of the cave, their figures casting long shadows across the barren landscape. Danny's feet felt rooted to the ground, an inexplicable force tugging at his core, urging him forward. It was in there somewhere. Danny just wanted to bolt on in, but Mark's hand on his shoulder held him back.

“We can’t stay long. Are you sure it’s in there?” Mark asked.

“Yes! It’s pulling me, like a magnet. My core, it's sensing ectoplasm nearby."

“is it far though? Danny, we don’t know how deep this cave is. We can come back and start mapping it out, we don’t want to get lost.”

Danny turned sharply to face Mark. "I’ll be quick. I’ll be back before you know it. I can just phase through the rock!”

“Kid, you’ve been using your powers constantly, what if they fail you before you get what you need? I promise we’ll come back.”

As Mark turned and tried to guide Danny back with him. The teen pulled away from his grip. The thought of turning away from the fuel that his body needed was too much. Danny bolted deeper into the cave. Instinct taking over and overriding all other thoughts.

“Fuck! DANNY!”  Mark took chase, but the halfa was much faster than him. Mark turned on his flashlight, the one attached to his helmet. He plunged into the dark cave system.

Mark cursed as he spotted Danny. The teen was crawling down a narrow hole. Mark grabbed the teens’ scrawny legs. “Danny stop! We could get lost!”

“It’s down there! I need it!”

Mark grunted surprised at the strength of the teen.

Mark cursed as the kid kicked him and got free.

Mark scrambled onto his hands and knees, managing to push his upper body through the hole, he grabbed Danny’s legs again. The hole was at a slant, But the slides were smooth, if they weren’t careful, they’d both slide down into the unknown.

Mark could feel the weird sensation of Danny trying to phase through his gripe. Mark cursed realizing he was right, the kid was running on empty. Mark was afraid, that if he let the teen out of his sight, the kid wouldn't be able to get back.

“Shit, Danny! Stop fighting me!” Mark could feel his lower half being dragged further into the hole.

Mark cursed as he felt Danny slide deeper, and then get heavy in his grip. Mark’s eyes widened as he realized that the hole had tapered off into a long drop. Danny was dangling over a dark abyss. Mark flung one hand onto the side of the hole, keeping one arm curled around the teen’s legs. He tried to push his body back to the opening. Mark's feet frantically shifted trying to get friction.

“Aw shit!!!! Mark felt the forward momentum of a fall.

Danny and Mark plunged into darkness, falling, falling, and falling.

Danny came back to himself at Mark's yell. Danny turned his body and grabbed Mark. Danny tried with all his might to flash into his ghost form and fly. *OH GOD I MESSED UP* Danny thought to himself. Danny found that he could not summon his powers. The best he could do was pull with all his might at his core and try to slow their descent with a weak float.

Danny squeezed his eyes shut. *I’m so stupid, how could I let this happen…I don’t know what came over me! *

Danny felt Mark's arms circle him back. Mark turned his body, so he’d take the brunt of the fall, and keep the teen protected. Danny was too focused on trying to float or fly to notice.

Chapter Text

They hit a solid surface with a jarring impact. Danny had managed to pull on his power just enough to slow their fall. Danny had his arms wrapped around Mark's middle.

Mark let out a groan, and Danny quickly scrambled off the botanist.

“Are you Ok? I’m so so so sorry! I don’t know what came over me!”

“I’m fine kid, nothing broken…...at least I think nothing broken.” Mark groaned. He rolled over onto all fours. Mark looked down in puzzlement, they were on solid ice, but the strangest thing was the green glow that lit up the cavern they had fallen into. The source of it seemed to be the frozen water itself.

“OH SHIT!” Mark exclaimed, scrambling away until his back hit the solid wall of rock. His eyes widened behind his visor.

Right below them was a gigantic gaping maw. With rows of sharp teeth, opened wide to welcome them in.

If not for the solid ice beneath their feet they would have fallen right into the open mouth of the beast. Of course, that would be if it was still alive. And not frozen in a lake of ice.

Mark gasped. "Is that...a dinosaur?"

“That’s so cool! And it’s ectoplasm! The water is infused with it!” Danny felt a strange tickling at the back of his throat, his ghost sense almost triggering but not quite yet. *It doesn’t feel like a ghost…. maybe it’s just the water.*

Then Danny laughed nervously. "It's dead, totally preserved in the ice. Wow, I think it's like an alien Mosasaur! How cool is that?" His inner science geek trumped his fear.

“Well of course it’s dead…. what else would it be?” Mark asked.

“Well, that long in ectoplasm could have turned it into a ghost or reanimated, but it’s not moving so…..it’s dead.”

“hmmm—right, I keep forgetting about that ghost stuff,” Mark said, eyeing the frozen beast below them.

“So this water must be what I was sensing! It’s infused with ectoplasm! My core’s already absorbing it!”

The pull from his core intensified, beckoning him deeper. Danny squinted into the depths of the glowing water. He felt the familiar pull of a zone portal. "There might even be a small ghost portal at the bottom. I need to get down there and check it out."

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mark said with concern. “It’s frozen alien water down there, it’s too dangerous kid.”

“I’ll be fine, and I can absorb more ecto that way, and get us out of here faster. Besides, I don’t think that’s all the way frozen. That dino is floating a bit, I think there’s only a couple of inches of ice, it must be warming up from the zone or something.”

“I still don’t like it….but I guess you do need to collect some of this stuff, for later.” Mark unhooked a container from his pack and handed it to Danny.

“Thanks! I’ll be quick promise! Besides if the portal is big enough we can take a shortcut to Earth through the zone.” Danny said.

“I still don’t like it, this place gives me the creeps, but if we get home faster…..”

“Mark! I’ll be fine! Promise!”

Danny descended through the icy layers, phasing deeper and deeper as the ethereal glow of ectoplasm swirled around him. The cold seeped into his bones, but the pull from his core urged him forward, an insistent tug that he couldn't ignore. His core drank up the energy around it. Danny let himself change into his ghost form. He still had the space suit Mark had given him, and the protective helmet on, but now Danny had the extra strength of his ghost form as well.

As Danny sank further, the ice began to thin, giving way to a vast expanse of shimmering, unfrozen ectoplasm. It rippled and pulsed with an otherworldly energy. Danny was thankful that he didn’t need to breathe in this form.

 Danny passed the ancient creature on his way down. He stared in awe, it was perfectly preserved, although on the skinny side, one could tell it had clearly starved. But other than that, if he didn’t know any better, he might mistake it for being alive.

Above, Mark paced anxiously on the frozen surface, his heart pounding as he watched Danny's form fade into the depths. "Be careful down there!" he called out, his voice echoing in the cavernous space.

And there, at the very bottom, Danny spotted it—a tiny ghost portal, no larger than a dinner plate, swirling with an ethereal mist. *Drat! It’s too small to push through* Danny thought. He could feel the warmth coming from the portal. *I was right! That must be what’s warming this place*

*I bet I could squeeze through if I really wanted to….but I don’t know if I could get Mark through.* Danny uncapped the container and allowed the ecto-water to fill it.

While Danny was lost in thought, the massive, frozen form of the Mosasaur shifted, its ancient bones creaking and groaning as it stirred to life. Sluggish at first, it slowly turned its massive head towards Danny, jaw hanging open to reveal rows of jagged teeth.

"Danny, watch out!" Mark's scream pierced the silence, his fists pounding against the ice above in a desperate attempt to warn his friend. Frantically, he pounded on the surface with his fists, his breath fogging up his visor as he watched in horror. The mosasaur, long believed to be a frozen relic, twitched its massive tail, and the creature's eyes flickered open, revealing the dull gleam of hunger within.

But the Mosasaur paid no heed to the frantic prey above, its predatory gaze fixed solely on the smaller, more accessible target below. It lunged forward, its gaping maw ready to ensnare its first meal in eons.

Engrossed in his discovery, Danny paid no mind to the change of the water around him.

Oblivious to the impending danger, Danny continued to study the tiny ghost portal. He estimated its circumference, mentally measuring his own form against it. If he could just amplify his powers, maybe, just maybe, he could stretch the portal wide enough to slip both him and Mark through.

It wasn't until the shadow loomed over him, engulfing the glowing ectoplasm and casting a chill even colder than the surrounding ice, that Danny finally sensed something amiss. He turned, and for the first time, witnessed the mosasaur in motion—a prehistoric predator brought to life, its gaping maw a dark abyss hungry for its long-awaited feast.

Time seemed to slow as the ancient predator closed in, its massive jaws poised to snap shut around him.

The massive jaws snapped shut around Danny, engulfing him in darkness. Panic surged through his body as he realized he couldn't phase through the creature's flesh. This was no ordinary dinosaur. But it didn’t feel like a ghost….not a full one anyway.

"Oh, come on!" Danny grunted, straining against the mosasaur's powerful muscles. His arms trembled as he pushed upward, desperately trying to pry the mouth open. "I did not come all the way to Mars just to become dino chow!"

The mosasaur's annoyance was palpable as it attempted to crush its prey.

Danny's heart raced. He had to act fast. Summoning his ghostly energy, he formed a glowing green orb in his palm. "Sorry, big guy," he muttered, "but you picked the wrong snack!"

With a yell, Danny unleashed the ecto-blast directly into the creature's mouth. The mosasaur's head jerked back violently, its jaws opening wide as it roared in pain. Danny tumbled out.

But his relief was short-lived. The enraged mosasaur lunged forward again. Danny barely managed to dodge, feeling the rush of water as the massive jaws snapped shut inches from his face.

He propelled himself through the water, narrowly avoiding another bite.

Danny's muscles burned as he pushed himself to swim faster, constantly changing direction to throw off his pursuer.

"You want me?" he called out, a hint of his usual bravado returning. "Then come and get me, you prehistoric popsicle!" Not that the animal could hear him, but it boosted his confidence to say. The words rang around the inside of his helmet.

As the chase intensified, Danny felt a familiar tingle coursing through his body. The ecto-energy around him was palpable, seeping into his very being. A surge of power flooded his senses, and he knew it was time to turn the tables.

"Alright, big guy," Danny muttered, his eyes glowing an intense blue. "Let's see how you like the cold!"

With a swift turn, Danny faced the charging mosasaur. He summoned every ounce of his ice powers, channeling the absorbed ecto-energy. A blast of frigid energy erupted from his hands, instantly freezing the water around them and encasing the prehistoric beast in a thick layer of ice.

Danny floated closer to the now-frozen mosasaur, its massive form suspended in mid-lunge. He placed a hand on its snout, a pang of guilt washing over him.

"Sorry, buddy," he said softly, patting the icy nose. "I know you were just doing what comes naturally, but I can't be dinosaur chow today."

Danny's brow furrowed as he examined the creature. "Man, I hate leaving you like this. It's not your fault you're some freaky ghost-dino hybrid." He sighed, his shoulders slumping.

Just as Danny was about to turn away, a faint glow caught his eye. His heart raced as he watched the mosasaur's eyes begin to pulse with an eerie, familiar light.

"Oh no," he whispered, eyes widening in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me!"

Danny's mind raced as he watched the mosasaur's eyes pulse with ecto-energy. He knew he had only moments before the creature broke free.

"Think, Fenton, think!" he muttered, scanning the underwater cavern. His gaze landed on the small ghost portal near the bottom. A desperate plan formed in his mind.

With renewed determination, Danny shot towards the portal. He placed his hands on its swirling edges, concentrating hard. "Come on, come on," he grunted, pouring his energy into the portal. Slowly, it began to expand.

Behind him, the ice cracked ominously. Danny glanced back, seeing the mosasaur's tail beginning to break free. "Just a little more," he urged himself, pushing harder.

The portal grew to an enormous size, easily large enough for the creature. Danny heard a final crack.

At the last second, Danny veered away. The creature, unable to change course, plunged through the swirling vortex.

Danny's relief was short-lived as the portal suddenly collapsed, snapping shut. He stared at the empty space where it had been, his heart sinking.

"Well, there goes our ticket home," he sighed, swimming towards the surface. As he phased through the ice, he saw Mark's worried face peering down at him.

Before Danny could say a word, Mark pulled him into a tight hug. "Are you alright?" Mark asked, his voice thick with concern as he looked Danny over.

Danny managed a weak smile. "I'm fine. Trust me, I've dealt with worse."

Mark's relief was palpable. Danny sighed, "Bad news, though. We can't use the portal. It... closed."

To Danny's surprise, Mark shook his head. "That's okay. We'll figure something out." He paused, studying Danny's face. "You good to get us out of this pit?"

Danny nodded, grateful for Mark's understanding. With his container full of ecto energy and with the dino gone, he could easily come back for more if needed.

Danny took a deep breath, willing his powers to cooperate. "Alright, here we go," he said, floating upwards and gently grasping Mark under his arms. With a burst of energy, they soared out of the icy pit and back onto the rust-colored Martian surface.

As Danny set Mark down, he heard the astronaut mumbling to himself. "Nobody at NASA is ever going to believe we met a Martian dino. Not in a million years."

Danny couldn't help but chuckle.

They made their way back to the rover, Danny's legs still a bit wobbly from the encounter. As Mark started to climb in, Danny hesitated.

"You know, I could fly us back," he offered. "It'd be faster, and we wouldn't have to worry about the terrain."

Mark shook his head firmly. "No way, kid. You need to rest after that ordeal. Hop in and take it easy for a bit."

Danny wanted to protest, but the fatigue hitting him made Mark's suggestion sound pretty good. He slid into the passenger seat, his eyes already growing heavy as Mark started the engine.

"Thanks," Danny murmured, settling in for the ride. As they bumped along the Martian landscape, he found himself wondering about home, about his family. Did they know he was missing? Were they looking for him? The gentle rocking of the rover lulled him into a light doze, his mind drifting between Earth and Mars.

Before he knew it, they were back at the Hab. Danny shook off his drowsiness, determined to help Mark unload the Pathfinder.

"What the-" he started to say, when something metallic whizzed past his ear. Before he could react, it swung around and smacked him square on the helmet, the force knocking him flat on his back.

"Danny!" Mark shouted, rushing over. "Are you okay?"

Dazed, Danny sat up slowly. "Yeah, I think so. What was that?"

Mark bent down, picking up the object that had struck Danny. His brow furrowed in confusion as he examined it.

"It's... a boomerang?" Mark said, bewildered. "With some kind of package tied to it." *What the hell! Where the fuck did this come from? *

Danny's eyes widened in recognition. "Wait, let me see that!"

As Mark handed it over, Danny's heart raced. *NO WAY…..it’s the boo-merang!*

Chapter Text

Back inside the safety of the HAB, Danny's fingers trembled as he unwrapped the small package attached to the boomerang. His breath caught as he pulled out a silver flip phone, with glowing green accents. It was a Fenton flip phone, inspired by the Fenton phone earpiece. It was one of the ones Tucker had gotten his hands on. Tucker had modified it, made it better, this phone could send signals through the zone and connect anywhere.  

Attached to them was a note, its edges crinkled from the journey. Danny’s eyes widened as he read the words:

*Dear Phantom, we made allies in DC and NASA, we got your back.

-Team Phantom. *

"Fenton Phones," he whispered. 

He looked up, meeting Mark Watney’s curious gaze. Mark was leaning against the metal counter, his arms crossed, his expression a blend of confusion and interest.

“Are you telling me, that a boomerang delivered you a phone?” Mark asked, his voice laced with bewilderment.

Danny held up the Fenton phones, a shaky smile spreading across his face. “It’s… it’s a way to talk to Earth. We can contact NASA, tell them we’re alive—”

“Hold on, hold on.” Mark pushed himself off the counter, taking a step closer. His voice was laced with disbelief. “You’re telling me that little thing can just… call Earth? From Mars?”

Danny nodded, his excitement growing despite the lingering fear in his chest. “Not just Earth. Anywhere. It’s a Fenton phone. My parents… they built these. Well, my best friend Tucker modified them, so they can—”

"Okay, hold up," Mark said, raising his hands. "First, that boomerang thing. How the hell did it find you on Mars?"

Danny chuckled nervously, running a hand through his hair. "It's, uh, one of my parents' inventions. It's locked onto my signature, so it can find me anywhere. My sister used to use it to track me down when I was out... late."

Mark's eyebrows shot up. "Your parents invented a boomerang that can cross space? So they build a portal in their basement, and super phones……are you sure they’re not mad scientist plotting to take over the world?”

A nervous laugh escaped Danny. “No no no no……They just want to hunt ghosts.”

Mark raised a concerned eyebrow. “Right…..”  

“And the phones?” Mark asked, moving on. “How do they work?”

Danny’s smile widened, a spark of pride igniting in his chest. “These… they use the Zone. You know, the ghost zone? Tucker figured out how to modify them so they can tap into it. It’s like… a shortcut through dimensions. They can connect to anyone, anywhere, as long as they’re linked to the right frequency.”

Mark’s eyes narrowed. “Huh…..I bet NASA would love to take that apart.”

“Look it has NASA in the contacts, my friends must have talked to them,” Danny exclaimed.

 “So… we can call NASA. Right now?” Mark asked, a slow smile spreading across his face.  

Danny nodded, a mix of excitement and apprehension churning in his stomach. This was their chance to get help, but it also meant facing questions he wasn't sure he was ready to answer.

"Yeah," he said softly. "We can call NASA."

Mark noticed Danny’s apprehension, his voice steady. “You don’t have to tell them everything, Danny. Not right away. But we need to do this. We need to let them know we’re alive.”

Danny swallowed hard, “Yeah, let’s do it.”

Danny took a deep breath. "Here goes nothing," he muttered, activating the device.

The phone crackled to life. Then, a voice, smooth and polished, filled the small space. "This is NASA control, Teddy Sanders speaking. To whoever is calling... welcome back."

Relief washed over Danny like a wave. He glanced at Mark, whose eyes lit up with hope. "Teddy? It's Mark Watney. Our young friend is here too," Mark announced his voice firm.

A moment of stunned silence followed, then an explosion of cheers erupted from the other end.

"Well, I’ll be damned it worked…..And it’s Danny Phantom correct? We’ve been hearing a lot about you.”

Danny paled slightly and fidgeted with his hands. *How much do they know…. * He thought to himself. “Yeah, that’s right……sorry about earlier.”

"While we wish you had been honest from the start, we understand your situation. We know about GIW, Danny," Teddy said, his tone reassuring. "You're under the protection of the U.S. government and the UN. You're safe now."

Relief washed over Danny, but uncertainty lingered. “Can I ask how you found out?” Danny asked. He already knew or could guess from the note that was left, but he had to figure out how much they knew.

"Friends from Amity. Persistent ones," Teddy replied. "They stood up for you, Danny. First contact, and we're glad some humans had your back."

The words soothed Danny. They didn't know everything. His secret, his half-human truth, was still safe. His sister, his friends—they hadn’t spilled the beans.

Wanting to move the conversation away from himself, Danny spoke up with an idea.

"Mr. Sanders," he began, his voice steadier than he felt, "I might have an idea about getting us home without NASA sending another ship."

There was a beat of silence before Teddy responded. "Go on, Danny."

"I have... friends in the Ghost Zone," Danny explained, choosing his words carefully. "They might be able to open a portal to Mars. My friends in Amity Park can help coordinate."

Mark's eyebrows shot up, but he remained silent, letting Danny continue.

"It's not a guarantee," Danny added hastily, "but it could be worth exploring."

"Fascinating," Teddy murmured. "We'll certainly look into that option. For now, let's wrap this up. We'll schedule daily calls to work on these plans."

“And Danny, NASA and well the World is very interested in learning more about you, Danny. Tomorrow, we'd like to ask you more questions about your species and the Ghost Zone. We're also planning to open up public questions from around the world."

Danny's stomach churned. "Public questions?" he echoed weakly.

"Yes," Teddy confirmed. "And Danny, before we go, I should mention that we've hired the Fentons to assist with the technical aspects and access to the Ghost Zone."

Danny's breath caught in his throat. His parents? Involved?

"I understand you and the Fentons didn't get along," Teddy continued, oblivious to Danny's internal panic. "But I assure you, they won't harm you. You have our protection."

Danny nodded, then remembered Teddy couldn't see him. "Understood."

“Good, now can you hand the phone to Mark, there’s a few more things we’d like to discuss with him before we end this call.”

“Oh! Yeah of course!” Danny fumbled with the phone but handed it to Mark. Mark pressed the phone off speakerphone to talk.

Danny fidgeted as he caught Mark's side of the conversation. He listened to Mark talk about rations, his potato Farm, other communication options, and requests to contact his crewmates.

As the call ended, Danny slumped against the wall of the Hab, his mind reeling. Public questions? His parents? He looked at Mark, who was watching him with concern.

"You okay, kid?" Mark asked softly.

Danny shook his head, his voice barely a whisper. "I don't know if I can do this."

*****

Back on Earth, Vlad Masters stood at the window of his mayoral office, his fists clenched tightly behind his back.

"Mr. Masters," a gruff voice interrupted his brooding. "We have a few more questions."

Vlad turned, his face instantly morphing into a mask of genial concern. "Of course, Agent Johnson. I'm here to help in any way I can."

The FBI agent's eyes narrowed. "You're saying you had no knowledge of the Fentons' basement portal?"

Vlad chuckled, spreading his hands innocently. "A doorway to another dimension? In their basement? I assure you, if I had known our ghost problem was caused by this thing, I would have alerted the proper authorities immediately."

"And the Guys in White?" Agent Johnson pressed. "You claim you didn't know they weren't a legitimate government agency?"

Vlad's smile faltered for a microsecond before he recovered. "I'm as shocked as you are. I believed I was letting the authorities do their job."

As the agent scribbled in his notebook, Vlad's thoughts churned. That infuriating little badger, Daniel. All this attention, all this scrutiny – it was his fault. Vlad had worked for years to keep his own half-ghost nature hidden, to manipulate events from the shadows. And now, because of one reckless teenager...

“Hmmm….we’ll need to do an in-depth investigation, you understand Mr. Mayor?”

Vlad's eye twitched, but he maintained his composure. "Of course," he said smoothly. "I have nothing to hide. Just let me know what you need.”

“Good, we’ll be in touch.”

As the agents filed out of his office, Vlad's façade crumbled. His eyes flashed a dangerous red for a moment before he reined in his ghostly nature. He stalked to his desk, sinking into the plush leather chair.

"Oh, Daniel," he murmured, a cruel smile twisting his lips. "You have no idea what you've started. When you return – and you will return – I'll make sure you regret ever setting foot on that miserable red planet."

*****

President Alfred Davis paced the Oval Office. He paused at the window, gazing out at the manicured White House lawn. The phone on his desk chirped.

"Mr. President,"  Agent Nelson’s voice crackled through the speaker. "We have a situation."

Davis's jaw clenched. "Don't tell me—"

"I'm afraid so, sir. The GIW agents have escaped custody."

The President's fist came down hard on his desk. "How in God's name did that happen? We had them under lock and key!"

"We're still investigating, but preliminary reports suggest some kind of... unconventional technology was used, and likely another mole."

Davis pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. "This is exactly what we don't need right now. With the whole world watching us, waiting to see how we handle first contact with an alien species, and these loose cannons are out there..."

"Sir?" Agent Nelson prompted.

Davis straightened, his resolve hardening. "Double the security detail on the Fenton family. And get me Teddy Sanders at NASA. We need to warn them about this development."

Chapter Text

The NASA conference room buzzed with an undercurrent of tension as Jack and Maddie Fenton burst through the door, arms laden with an assortment of bizarre contraptions. Teddy Sanders suppressed a wince, exchanging a glance with Vincent Kapoor.

"Behold, the Fenton Ghost Decimator!" Jack bellowed, brandishing what looked like a strange high-tech leaf blower. "Guaranteed to reduce any spectral entity to ectoplasmic goo!"

Maddie beamed, her goggles glinting with a special type of madness. "And this little beauty," she added, holding up a compact device, "is the Ecto-Disruptor. It scrambles a ghost's molecular structure."

Kapoor leaned towards Teddy, whispering, "Are we sure these people are... stable?"

Teddy forced a smile. "They're experts in their field, Vincent."

As the Fentons launched into their demonstration, Teddy's unease grew. The technology was undeniably advanced - far beyond anything NASA had encountered. But the ethical implications were troubling.

Jack aimed the Decimator at a potted plant, which promptly burst into flames. "Oops! Wrong setting!"

Maddie rushed to extinguish the fire, laughing nervously. "It's usually more precise. We're still working out some kinks."

Kapoor pinched the bridge of his nose. "Mr. and Mrs. Fenton, while your inventions are... impressive, I'm concerned about their potential for harm……when we were recommended your expertise, I was hoping for more on the diplomacy front with these beings."

Jack waved dismissively. "Harm? Ghosts aren't alive, my good man! They're ectoplasmic scum that need to be eradicated!"

Maddie's eyes gleamed with a fervor that made Teddy's skin crawl. "Oh, if we could just get our hands on that ghost boy... The things we could learn by taking him apart molecule by molecule!"

Kapoor stood abruptly, his usually calm demeanor cracking. "That is absolutely out of the question. Phantom is not to be harmed under any circumstances."

"The ghost boy is manipulating you!" Maddie hissed. "He's not capable of real emotions. It's all an act!"

Teddy raised his hands, silencing the room. "Mr. and Mrs. Fenton, I understand your expertise in ghost-related matters. However, I need to make something very clear." He met their eyes firmly. "We are treating this as first contact with an alien species. Phantom will be afforded all the rights and protections that entails."

The Fentons deflated visibly, exchanging frustrated glances.

Maddie fumed at this. *If I didn’t need to find Danny, I’d blast that ghost boy as soon as I can* Maddie thought to herself. The only reason they had taken this deal was because the US government had afforded a good amount of money, and a promise to help them find their boy. All they had to do was play nice with NASA and let the government have access to their technology and portal. Now she didn’t mind sharing her work, it was about time people took them seriously. But she did get the feeling if she refused the government would have just taken it, claiming it to be a matter of national security.

Kapoor leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "About this ghost portal. You built it in your basement?"

"Sure did!" Jack beamed. "Punched a hole right through the fabric of our dimension!"

Kapoor's jaw dropped. "That's... that's incredible. And incredibly dangerous! Do you have any idea of the safety protocols you've violated?"

Maddie waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, we take precautions."

"Like what?" Kapoor pressed.

Jack scratched his head. "Well, we keep the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick nearby."

Maddie patted her husband’s arm in fondness. “we also keep our home heavily armed with anti-ghost technology.”

“I’ve read up on Amity, aren’t they attacked almost every day?” Kapoor asked.

“Amity is the most haunted city in America, it’s why we chose it. I doubt it has any connection.” Maddie defended.

Teddy massaged his temples, feeling a headache coming on. These people were brilliant, but their methods were beyond unorthodox. At least the teens had been more sensible and better yet helpful. Quickly getting them up to speed and even providing a way to contact Phantom and Mark on Mars.

Which is why Teddy had decided to let the four teens stay. He was very impressed with how Sam and Jazz even had the forethought to go directly to the president for help. He had a hunch they would be a better source for ghost-related matters.

"Sooooo," Sam interrupted Jack Fentons long rant on how evil ghosts were, "we've been inside the Ghost Zone and the citizens of the zone are nothing like that."

The room fell silent.

Jazz nodded. "We used the Specter Speeder."

"Which is?” Kapoor asked.

“It’s like a shuttlecraft, it can travel through the zone, and it can probably even go to space,” Tucker answered.

Kapoor turned to Jack and Maddie. “You built a craft capable of traversing dimensions and the vacuum of space?"

"Well, yeah," Maddie said. "It was just a fun weekend project."

Tucker spoke up. "The Ghost Zone isn't what you think. It has its own civilization, laws, even culture, they are like us, some bad some good, and everything in between."

Sam nodded emphatically. "Phantom isn't some mindless or evil entity.”

“Have you been to this zone, Mr. and Mrs. Fenton?” Teddy asked.

“Well, no……that would be dangerous,” Maddie replied.

Kapoor turned to the Fentons, his voice rising. "You've never even been to this other dimension? Yet you cling to theories formed before your portal was operational?"

Jack puffed out his chest. "Now see here-"

"Perhaps," Kapoor pressed, "your assumptions about ghosts – about Phantom – could be wrong?"

Teddy watched the argument unfold. The teens clearly knew more than they were letting on. And their connection to Phantom... There were pieces to this puzzle he was still missing, but he could place what those pieces were.

"Look," Mitch Henderson said, his voice cutting through the heated debate, "I don't care about ghost zones or alien civilizations. All I care about is getting Mark Watney home safely. If that means working with ghosts, aliens, or whatever Phantom is, so be it."

He turned to Jack and Maddie, his displeasure evident. "But I won't stand for how you're talking about the kid. Alien or ghost, he's still a person."

Maddie opened her mouth to protest, but Teddy cut her off. "Agreed, Mitch. Let's focus on the task at hand, which is how to get them home.”

******
In the main control room of NASA, Teddy had the Fenton flip phone connected to some speakers. This conversation would be broadcast live to the public and the world.

As the connection crackled to life, Mark's voice filled the room. "Houston, we have a problem. And by problem, I mean I'm still stuck on Mars with a ghost kid."

Danny's echoey voice followed. "Hey, I resent that. I'm great company."

Teddy spoke. "Gentlemen, we're working on bringing you both home. The Fentons are here to assist with their expertise."

There was a pause before Mark spoke again. "Does my crew know I'm alive?"

"No, not yet. We wanted to ensure we had a viable rescue plan before-"

"That's bullshit!" Mark exploded. "They think I'm dead! How could you-"

"Mark," Teddy cut in, his tone sharp, “I need to remind you that this is live right now, so watch the language.”

“Oh fuck that!” Mark snarked back.

Teddy sighed, feeling the weight of his decisions. "We were trying to get you home first, Mark. We didn't want to give them false hope."

"False hope?" Mark's voice cracked. "They think I'm dead! They deserve better than that."

Mitch nodded, his eyes meeting Teddy's. "He's right. We should have told them sooner." He turned to Tucker, an idea forming. "Kid, you're good with tech, right? Think you could help with that?"

Tucker grinned, already pulling out his PDA. "Piece of cake. Give me five minutes, and Mark can be chatting with his crew directly. Those Fenton phones can connect anywhere."

Teddy Sanders cleared his throat, his gaze sweeping across the room before settling on the communication device. "Phantom, we're about to open the floor to some questions from the public. Remember, this is being broadcast live worldwide."

Danny's voice echoed through the speakers, a hint of nervousness evident. "Okay, I'm ready."

Teddy scanned the tablet in his hands. "First question: 'What exactly is the Ghost Zone, and how does it relate to our world?'"

There was a brief pause before Danny responded, "The Ghost Zone is like... a parallel dimension. It’s tied to our world. And it’s where ghosts live. It's vast, with floating islands and doors that lead to different realms."

Teddy nodded, moving on. "Next: 'Why did you initially claim to be an alien?'"

Danny's voice wavered slightly. "I... I was scared. I didn't know how people would react to a ghost, and well its technically not a lie, the ghosts from the zone are alive, just different than humans.”

As Teddy read through more questions, Jack and Maddie Fenton exchanged glances, their expressions hardening. Jack's meaty hand clenched into a fist, while Maddie's eyes narrowed behind her goggles.

"'What's your favorite food?'" Teddy continued, attempting to lighten the mood.

A soft chuckle came through the speakers. "Honestly? I really miss my mom's cookies right now."

Maddie didn’t buy it. *Look at him try to manipulate us*  

Suddenly, Jack pushed forward  “Ghost boy, while back, you were caught stealing from stores, there’s footage of you robbing, care to explain that?”

"I was under mind control! I would never-"

"Lies!" Maddie spat. "You don't have us fooled, Phantom. We know what you really are - a monster!"

Teddy quickly turned the conversation back to Phantom by asking more questions. He was doing damage control. After all not everyone in the public liked the idea of ghosts or aliens.

After a few more questions he quickly cut the connection.

Teddy gave Mr. and Mrs. Fenton a stern look. "We don't need that kind of talk. It's irresponsible and could incite violence."

Maddie huffed, crossing her arms. "The public should be upset about this. That... thing is dangerous!"

******

Back on Mars the connection cut out.

Danny's luminous green eyes dimmed, and he slumped against the wall of the Hab, sliding down until he sat on the cold floor.

"They... they really think I'm a monster," Danny whispered, his voice cracking.

Mark knelt beside him, placing a comforting hand on Danny's shoulder. "Hey, kid. Don't let it get to you. They don't know what they're talking about."

Danny looked up, his eyes brimming with tears. "But they're my parents, Mark. They don't know it's me, but... it still hurts."

Mark sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm no expert on ghost-human hybrids or whatever, but I do know one thing: those two are idiots for not recognizing their own son. I mean, come on! Your voice is practically the same, just with a cool echo effect."

A weak chuckle escaped Danny's lips. "Yeah, I guess. It's just... I've always hoped they'd see past the ghost thing, you know? That they'd realize I'm not evil."

"Well, they're just idiots and fools." Mark said. "And hey, at least we know NASA's got your back.”

Danny nodded. "Yeah, that was pretty great.”

Back on Earth after everyone went home. Kapoor asked Teddy to meet him in his office before they called it a night.

In Kapoor’s office, two photographs lay side by side on the desk. Teddy Sanders felt his heart skip a beat as he stared at the images, his mind reeling with disbelief.

"What did you want to show me?" Teddy asked.

Kapoor gestured to the photos. "Take a look at these photos, Teddy. One is of Danny Phantom, our ghost boy on Mars. The other is Danny Fenton, son of Maddie and Jack Fenton."

Teddy's eyes darted between the two images, his face growing paler by the second. The resemblance was uncanny, almost impossible to deny. He shook his head, willing it not to be true. "No, this can't be right."

Teddy picked up the photos, bringing them closer to his face. He scrutinized every detail, looking for any discrepancy that might disprove the alarming theory forming in his mind. But the more he looked, the more certain he became. While the hair color, and eye color were different, the face structure and everything else was the same. If these were in black and white, they would be mistaken as the same person.

"This should be impossible... right?" Teddy looked at Kapoor, “One is a human and one is clearly not!”

Kapoor shrugged, his expression grim. "At this rate, Teddy, anything is possible. Besides don’t you know, ghosts are basically souls right? Besides maybe it’s possible to be both. We may call them ghosts, but I think alien is a better term. Anyway, the Fenton kid went missing around the time Phantom showed up on Mars. Or at least, he hasn't been seen since then."

Teddy let his mind wander into deep thought. *If this was true, it would change everything. *

"But wouldn't they notice?" Teddy asked. "They're his parents, for God's sake."

Kapoor's response was matter-of-fact. "They might be geniuses, Teddy, but they're still strangely oblivious. It's not outside the realm of possibility."

Teddy set the photos back on Kapoor's desk. He took a deep breath.

"Vincent," he said, his voice low and tense, "we need to keep this quiet. For now."

Kapoor raised an eyebrow. "For once I agree.”

Teddy nodded.  "But I want you to keep digging. There are clearly questions that need to be answered." He ran a hand through his hair, his political instincts warring with his conscience. "If this gets out before we understand what's really going on, it could be catastrophic."

"Agreed," Kapoor replied.

Teddy paced the office. "You know," he said, almost to himself, "I've had a feeling those teens were hiding something. The way they act, the things they say... it all makes a disturbing kind of sense now."

"What are you thinking?" Kapoor asked, leaning forward.

Teddy stopped pacing and locked eyes with Kapoor. "I'm thinking we don’t have all the pieces to this puzzle.”  

Chapter Text

Watney's face as he leaned forward, his eyes fixed intently on Danny.

"Look, kid," Mark said, his voice gentle but firm, "I get why you're scared. But keeping this secret...it's not protecting you like you think it is. NASA can help better if they know the truth."

Danny's fingers tightened around the edge of his cot, his knuckles turning white. He wanted to argue, to defend the walls he'd built around his secret identity, but Mark's words hit too close to home.

Mark continued, "Think about it. If NASA and your parents knew the truth, they could actually help you. No more running from the GIW. No more dodging your parents' ghost-hunting tech."

Danny's stomach churned at the thought. He could almost hear his mother's voice, see the look of horror on her face if she knew what he really was. Half-ghost. An abomination in her eyes.

"But what if they reject me?" Danny whispered, his voice barely audible. "What if they think I'm... a freak?"

Mark's expression softened. "Danny, they're your parents. They love you. And NASA? They’ve been dreaming of a day to meet someone like you.”

Danny imagined a world where he didn't have to hide, where he could use his powers openly to help people. But then the image of cold lab tables and government experiments flashed through his mind, making him shudder.

"I don't know, Mark," Danny said, running a hand through his messy black hair.

Mark nodded, "I get it, but if more people knew, they could step in and stop those who are trying to hurt you.”

Danny stood up, pacing the small confines of the Hab. He thought of Sam and Tucker, how they'd accepted him without hesitation. Could his parents do the same?

"Maybe you're right," Danny admitted.

Mark held up the Fenton phone, getting ready for their call with NASA.

"I'm doing this," Danny said, more to himself than to Mark. "No more secrets. No more running."

Mark placed a reassuring hand on Danny's shoulder. "You've got this, kid. Remember, I'm right here with you."

Danny took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Okay. Let's do it."

With trembling fingers, he hit the NASA contact and sent the signal through to Earth.   

"What if they reject me?" he whispered, his voice cracking.

Mark squeezed his shoulder. "Then they don't deserve you. And I got your back."

Before Danny could respond with anything else, the connection went through.

“Ground control, how’s are our Martians doing?”

“Everying things good up here, especially since I was able to talk to my crew,” Mark replied, with some bite to his words.

Teddy sighed on the other end. “Please understand it was to protect against high hopes…..but I’m glad you where able to connect to the Ares 3. It’s good to know the Fenton phones can reach them. I wasn’t sure if they could actually connect anywhere.”

“Yeah, I’m keeping this phone, it’s mine now.” Mark replied. Mark probably wouldn’t be allowed to keep the phone, but he could try. Maybe Danny could hook him up later.

“I actually have something to say.” Danny spoke up. He felt like he could faint. This was it.

Danny's heart raced as he continued, his voice trembling slightly. "I'm... I'm not just Danny Phantom. I'm also Danny Fenton."

"Two years ago, I had an accident in our ghost portal. It infused me with ghost DNA, giving me ghost powers. I became half-ghost, half-human. The Guys in White captured me and a nature ghost portal opened, and that’s how I ended up on Mars.”

"I know it sounds crazy," Danny said, he continued, speaking more to his parents, than to NASA or the world, he hated he couldn’t see their reaction. “I've been hiding it because I was scared. Scared of what you'd think, scared of being hunted."

Maddie Fenton was the first to speak, her voice tight with emotion. "That’s... that's impossible. You can't be... you’re not Danny, you’re not my boy!”

Jack’s voice came in next. “Ghosts are evil, manipulative creatures. That’s what you’re doing, just trying to trick us!”

Danny felt a pang in his chest at their words. He'd expected disbelief, but it still hurt. "I’m telling the truth!”

Suddenly, Sam's voice cut through the tension. "It's true, Mr. and Mrs. Fenton. We've known for a while. Danny's been using his powers to protect Amity Park."

Tucker chimed in. "Yeah, he's a hero! He's saved the town more times than we can count."

Jazz's voice was heard next. "Mom, Dad, I know it's hard to believe, but it's true. I've seen Danny transform with my own eyes. He's still our Danny, just with some... extras."

Danny waited on the other line with bated breath. There was a long pause.

"But... but how?" Maddie whispered, her voice barely audible. "Our own son... a ghost? All this time?"

Jack’s voice was colored with horror. “But I’ve shot at you…..captured you…..hurt you…..”   

Teddy Sanders cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "We've suspected something unusual about Danny, and suspected Phantom was the same as Danny Fenton. I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to tell us the truth, son." Teddy avoided mentioning that they just recently figured that out.

Danny blinked, surprise, momentarily overriding his anxiety. "You... you knew?"

Vincent Kapoor’s voice came through the phone. "Not exactly, but we had our suspicions."

“Danny I’m so sorry!” Maddie spoke. Danny could tell she was on the verge of crying.

“I should have told you sooner!” Danny said, trying to offer comfort to his parents, even after everything.

*****

Once the call ended, Teddy turned to Vincent. "We need to get ahead of this. The kid's going to need some serious PR support."

Vincent nodded, then gestured towards the Fentons. "First things first. We need to have a word with the parents."

They approached Jack and Maddie, who still looked shell-shocked. Vincent's voice was gentle but firm. "Mr. and Mrs. Fenton, I know this is a lot to process, but we need to discuss something crucial. The hunting... it can't continue.."

Jack's usual jovial demeanor crumbled, replaced by a look of pure anguish. "I... I can't believe it. We're supposed to protect him, and instead..."

Vincent seized the moment, his voice lowering. "There's more. The GIW... they've hurt Danny before. And they'll likely try again."

Maddie’s eyes hardened. "They won't touch him again. We'll make sure of it."

Jack nodded vigorously, his large hands clenching into fists. "Nobody hurts our boy. Ghost, human, or anything in between."

******

In a dimly lit conference room, Agent K slammed his fist on the table, his pristine white suit a stark contrast to the darkness surrounding him. "Gentlemen, the situation has escalated. The Phantom boy has gone public, and we're losing control of the narrative, and it’s worse than ever." He spat the next words. “A Hybrid.” He shook his head in disgust. “It’s an abomination to nature.”

Agent O leaned forward, his sunglasses reflecting the flickering screens displaying social media feeds. "The public's reaction is mixed. Some are calling for acceptance, others for extermination. We need to act fast."

"Agreed," K growled. "If the government won't see reason, we'll have to take matters into our own hands. The Ghost Zone must be destroyed, at any cost, we can’t allow them to keep infecting the people of earth. We’ll have to destroy Amity as well, it’s infected, the people are contaminated……beyond saving."

Meanwhile, in his opulent mansion, Vlad Masters paced furiously, his expensive shoes wearing a path in the plush carpet. His eyes, glowing an unnatural red, were fixed on the television screen where Danny's face was plastered across every news channel.

"Butter biscuits!" he snarled, hurling a crystal glass against the wall. It shattered, much like his carefully laid plans. "That foolish boy! Does he have any idea what he's done?"

Vlad's mind raced, calculating the ramifications of Danny's revelation. His leverage, his carefully crafted blackmail, all gone in an instant. He could feel his control slipping away, and it filled him with a rage that threatened to consume him.

"No," he muttered, forcing himself to take deep breaths. "I won't let this be the end. I've come too far, sacrificed too much."

Vlad's eyes narrowed as he settled into his high-backed leather chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. "I must act swiftly," he mused aloud, his voice a low, menacing purr. "If Daniel lets slip about my... condition, everything I've built will crumble."

He swiveled to face his computer, fingers flying across the keyboard. "Perhaps it's time to remind young Daniel of the consequences of crossing Vlad Plasmius."

Vlad scrolled through his own files and blueprints of ghost tech. “Perhaps it’s time to silence him forever……finish what the portal started. I can always get a new heir, with my dear Madeline.”

Chapter Text

After much deliberation and negotiation with the Fentons, a plan was concocted. Simple on the surface but still dangerous. NASA working with both the US government and the Fenton’s came up with a plan to enter the ghost zone and mount a rescue attempt.

Standing in the Fenton’s basement Teddy Sanders and Vincent Kapoor stared in amazement at the work of mad science. The swirling green energy in the center of the portal made the hairs on their arms stand up.

“This shouldn’t be possible,” Kapoor mumbled.

“Well, it is……and it’s going to change everything. Not to mention saving us a ton of money.” Teddy commented.

Before them, the Fenton’s were yapping on and on about the science behind their portal to a group of NASA scientists. As well as showing off the Spector speeder. The ship that was going to be used for this rescue mission.

“This is still dangerous…...we’re going to enter a new dimension. An alien dimension.” Teddy grumbled.

“Remember this is the most cost-effective way. And the quickest if they’re to be believed.” Kapoor pointed out, “But I don’t like that we’re sending teenagers in.” Kapoor said with a frown.

“They’re the only ones that have been in the zone. And we need them to guide us, to this ally, this Wulf guy.” Sanders said with a sigh.

The group they were sending in, consisted of Sam and Tucker to guide them and navigate the zone. Jack Fenton and Mitch Henderson pilot. And Agent Nelson to represent the US government. As well as two trained medics. They’d keep in contact through the Fenton’s radio. The Fenton’s also provided specialized cameras to record and take readings on the speeder. Normal tech would malfunction in the zone. The Fenton’s inventions were of great interest to both NASA and the government.

****

Mitch Henderson's knuckles whitened against the controls of the speeder as it sliced through the Ghost Zone's eerie atmosphere. The fluorescent green mist parted like curtains before them, revealing floating islands and spiraling doorways suspended in the void.

Jack Fenton sat in the back of the speeder; he kept yelling out GHOST! Every time they went past a citizen of the zone. It took Tucker and Sam to remind him that they weren’t here to capture anything.

Agent Nelson shifted nervously in his seat. He tried to focus on recording what he could. He had volunteered for this. But being here felt unnatural. Like they didn’t belong here.

Sam sat in the copilot's seat, giving tips and directions to Mitch as they traveled deeper into the zone.

The speeder rocked suddenly, caught in a swirling stream of spectral energy. Mitch compensated with practiced precision.

 Tucker sat hunched over a tablet, fingers flying across the screen. "I've got the coordinates of Wulf's usual territory. Two more kilometers in that direction."

Mitch guided the speeder deeper into the Ghost Zone. They flew past floating chunks of earth suspended in the void. Some held twisted trees with blue leaves; others contained fragments of buildings that appeared to be from different time periods. Doors of various shapes and sizes drifted by—some ornate and ancient, others sleek and modern, all leading to places unknown.

"When we get there…..let me and Tucker do the talking, he knows us,” Sam said with a pointed glare at the adults around her.  

“Loud and clear,” Mitch said with a mock salute.

Mitch eased the speeder down to the edge of an island. It appeared to be a fragment of forest, with gnarled trees whose leaves shimmered with an unnatural blue luminescence.

As the speeder settled onto the spectral soil, the engines humming down to silence, an unsettling stillness fell over the group. Outside, the ambient glow of the Ghost Zone cast long, shifting shadows.

“Ok Listen up! Me and Tucker are going to go out there, he’ll listen to us, I don’t need anyone here shooting him or something.” Sam said with a pointed look at Jack Fenton.

“I don’t think you should be going out there alone….. You're just kids.” Jack argued, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We’ve done this a bunch of times Mr. Fenton,” Sam said with a glare.

“What if a ghost attacks you? I won’t let you two go out there alone.”

“UGH! WHATEVER……but no shooting at him. GOT IT?” Sam demanded.

“Only if need to,” Jack replied. But he pocketed his ecto gun.

Mitch volunteered to stay on the ship. He watched through the front view window, as Jack, Sam, Tucker, and Nelson disappeared between the foliage.

About fifteen minutes later, Mitch’s eyes widened as he watched what he could only describe as a werewolf, complete with torn clothing follow the group back into the clearing. He stared at the glow coming off this creature, and his sharp teeth and claws.

The group walked back to the speeder and reclaimed their seats. Mitch watched as Wulf floated up into the air and hovered in front of the speeder. The wolfman made a gesture beckoning him to follow.

As Sam sat down and clicked her seat belt into place, she turned to him. “Wulf said he can make the portal, but he has to be in the correct spot. I guess somehow he can sense it. But he said he can open a doorway.”

“He can do that?” Mitch asked.

“Ghosts have a diverse set of skills and supernatural abilities.” Jack pipped up getting ready to launch into a lecture about it.

“Can all ghosts do this? Can Danny?” Agent Nelson asked, interrupting Jack.

“No, Danny can’t, at least right now……. he’s been developing different ones….” Tucker replied.

“Not every ghost can do the same thing…..yeah they have similar abilities, like common ones I guess, like flying and invisibility but then they have like special abilities, that are less common,” Sam answered. “But Danny can tell you all about that. Right now we have to focus. So follow Wulf.”

As they followed Wulf, they came upon a gigantic body of water. It glowed the same green as everything in the zone.

A massive shadow passed over the speeder. Wulf let out a low growl, a warning sound.

Wulf dodged out of the way as a gigantic maw closed around where he once was.

“Oh my god!” Sam whispered.

Before them was something long dead. A massive mosasaur, its coloring was vibrant, it had purple, green, and black scales. Its solid glowing green eyes locked on to the speeder. It let out a roar as it turned, it opened its mouth wide, ready to bite down on the speeder and try to swallow it whole.

Mitch yanked the controls hard to port, the speeder banking sharply as the Mosasour's jaws snapped shut on empty air where they had been seconds before. The creature's eyes tracked them, unblinking and calculating – not the mindless aggression of a beast, a hungry intelligence lurked behind its eyes.

"Hold on!" Mitch shouted, sending the speeder into a dive that pressed them all back into their seats.

The Mosasaur followed. It was gaining on them, the distance between predator and prey shrinking with each passing second.

"We can't outrun it," Jack said, already unbuckling his harness and moving toward the rear of the speeder.

Jack reached for a weapon rack mounted on the wall. His hands closed around the familiar grip of the Fenton Bazooka, its weight reassuring in his palms.

Wulf leapt at the ancient dino; his claws extended as he tore deeply into the creature's giant eye.

The Mosasaur roared in pain, shaking its head and body trying to knock the wolf man off.

Wulf getting dislodged from the creature's head, dodged again as the mosasaur tried to snap its jaws around him. Wulf lunged again and slashed at the creature's snout as it lunged, drawing more blood – a viscous, glowing fluid that floated away in globules blobs.

The Mosasaur recoiled before lunging again with renewed fury. Wulf twisted in mid-air, narrowly avoiding the snap of jaws that could have severed him in two. His claws raked along the creature's flank, peeling back scales and exposing the ghostly flesh beneath.

From the speeder, Jack watched the battle unfold, the Fenton Bazooka humming as it charged to full power. He opened the side hatch, taking careful aim.

He watched Wulf and the Mosasaur circle each other in a deadly dance. "I need a clear shot."

Once Jack had his opening he aimed and fired, the beam of concentrated ectoplasmic energy striking the Mosasaur’s eye, in an explosion. The creature shrieked in pain and rage.

"Hey, ugly!" Jack shouted, firing, again and again, each blast forcing the Mosasaur back. "Get lost you ghost scum!”

Wulf had dodged out of the way of Jack’s shots. The ghost wolf's eyes narrowed in determination, and he lunged forward once more, this time aiming for the Mosasaur’s soft underbelly.

The creature twisted away, but not fast enough to avoid Wulf's claws entirely. A long gash opened along its side, spilling more of that strange, glowing fluid into the ether. The Mosasaur roared again, its tail lashing out and catching Wulf in the chest, sending him tumbling backward through the ghost zone.

Jack seized the opportunity, aiming and firing directly into the creature's wound. The Mosasaur convulsed, its body thrashing in agony.

Wulf had recovered now and was circling back, his eyes locked on the Mosasaur with predatory focus.

The Mosasaur growled but decided this prey wasn’t worth it. It began to retreat, its massive body turning and then diving down towards the ecto river below.

The Mosasaur reached the river's edge and, with one final hateful glance back at its pursuers, dove beneath the surface. The luminous fluid parted with a splash. Droplets hanging suspended before slowly drifting back to rejoin the flow.

Wulf halted at the river's edge, his chest heaving from exertion. He watched the spot where the Mosasaur had disappeared, ensuring it would not return.

Seeing that the dino wasn’t going to continue the fight, Wulf turned to the speeder. “This is the place.” He said in Esperanto, which Tucker translated for everyone else.

With a grunt of effort, Wulf plunged his claws into what appeared to be empty space. The ghost zone shuddered around them. Wulf's muscles strained as he pulled his claws apart, tearing open a hole in the fabric of existence.

The tear widened, edges ragged and flickering with energy that crackled like lightning.

Wulf pointed to the portal he made. “Mars.”

Jack stared into the portal, to think it was that simple to get to another planet. Just walk through. And boom you’re on an alien planet. An alien plant where his boy was waiting for rescue.

"Ok, Ok that’s good.” Mitch mumbled. “we’ll prepared to go through then.”

Wulf held up a paw. “I go; I go get. You stay.” Wulf said in broken English. Before anyone could object the wolf man turned and dove into the portal.

“Wait!” Mitch tried to object, but seeing that their guide had left, he slumped into his seat. “Well great! Now what?”

“I guess we wait, he’ll get Danny and Mr. Watney. Then we can go home.” Sam said.

Bonus art! (I tried to draw the dino) 

Chapter Text

“What! Right now?” Mark asked into the Fenton phones. “Well, ok then. We’ll keep an eye out for this……wolf man?”

Mark closed the phone connection and then turned to Danny. “Mitch says we need to suit up and look for a werewolf outside….this Wulf guy?”

“Wulf is the best! He’ll get us home.” Danny exclaimed.

“Right…..where you going to let me just find out he was like this werewolf thing or where you going to tell me at any point?” Mark asked.

“Huh, honestly that just slipped my mind…..like ghosts can be whatever form that fits them best….I don’t know his backstory, but I didn’t think it was important.” Danny said with a shrug.

“Not important, he says, Mark mumbled with a roll of his eyes. “You know what, I don’t care if it’s the loc ness monster that shows up…as long as we can get off this rock, I’ll be happy.”

Mark and Danny stood anxiously on the Martian surface, looking around for any sign of another person or portal.

“So what do these portals look like again?” Mark asked Danny.

“You can’t miss them….well, unless one opens up in front of you and like you just stumble through….then I guess you can miss it.” Danny said with a laugh.  

“Real helpful kid,” Mark replied sarcastically.

 "So you ready to see a werewolf?” Danny asked with a grin.

Before Mark could reply, the fabric of reality seemed to ripple before them. A portal tore open, and Mark's eyes widened as a werewolf-like figure stepped through – Wulf.

"When you said werewolf, I gotta admit, I wasn’t expecting more wolf than man,” Mark whispered to Danny. Trying not to offend their rescuer, Mark turned to the wolf man. “You must be Wulf. Thank you for this.” Mark said while reaching out a hand for a handshake.  

Wulf said something in Esperanto, then sniffed at Mark's offered hand, but instead of shaking it as expected, the wolfman, instead, gave Mark’s helmet a big lick in greeting.

“AH, oh god, I mean thank you….I think. Danny, this is a good sign, right?”

Danny just gave him a mischievous grin. “I don’t know, hard to tell.”

“DANNY,” Mark yelled, as Wulf started to cover his face plate with slobber.

“Arlight alright! Wulf, can you get us out of here?” Danny asked his friend.

Wulf nodded, backing away from Mark and Danny, then pulling his sharp claws through the air, forming a new portal. Mark stared in awe and a bit of trepidation at the glowing green tears.

Together, they all stepped through the portal and into the Ghost Zone.

Upon entering, Mark was struck by the awe and amazement of the alien environment surrounding them. The sky was an otherworldly mix of green, purple, and blue, and flowing green substance filled the air. Floating doors and islands dotted the landscape.

"Wow," Mark breathed, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene before him. "This is incredible."

“Look! It’s the speeder!” Danny pointed towards a small shuttlecraft hovering nearby.

Wulf and Danny helped Mark fly towards the speeder. Once they were close enough, the side door opened, and they were pulled inside.

Mitch pulled Mark into a relieved hug.

Danny immediately found himself enveloped in a hug by his two best friends in the world.

Danny froze when he saw Jack. He glanced up shyly, his heart racing in fear of rejection.

"Dad?" he whispered hesitantly.

Danny found himself pulled into a bear hug.

“Danny! I’m sorry for everything!” Jack exclaimed. At these words, Danny allowed himself to relax and lean into his father's hold.

“You’re not mad?”

“Mad! No, never. I’m proud of you…. I wish you had told us, but I’m happy you’re ok.” Jack said.

Danny felt his eyes tear up. “You mean you don’t want to tear me apart molecule by molecule?”

Jack's face fell. “I’m sorry I ever said that…..I’d never do that to you.”

Danny blinked away tears and looked to see how Mark was faring. Mark was being looked over by the doctors on board.

His Dad let him go, but hovered nearby protectively, along with Sam and Tucker. Danny was introduced to Mitch, Agent Nelson, and the two Medics. The two medics soon started pestering Danny about his own health. Soon, both Mark and Danny were getting a check-up. Danny tried to weasel his way out of it, but his dad kept giving helpful advice on what to look for, health-wise, for ghosts and theorizing what Danny would need as a half ghost.

Mitch took the pilot seat to plot their way back home. Danny sat snug in a blanket between Sam and Tucker. He realized things wouldn’t be the same now. Earth knew of the zone now. And likely would want to visit and study it. Danny tried not to think about it too much as he dozed off.  But he knew he’d probably have to be the one to play ambassador. Jack sat nearby by making sure nobody bothered the teens. Danny let himself fall into a light doze. He was just thankful no other ghost had decided to attack the speeder. He hoped his luck didn’t turn on him yet.

Chapter Text

1 month later

Danny nestled into the worn corner of the checkered picnic blanket, his back pressed against a gnarled oak tree.  Jazz, Tucker, Sam, and Wes sat in a circle on the blanket with him. Wes was a new addition. He was surprised to find that Wes had tried to help while he was stuck on Mars. Now he was part of their little friend group. He watched Jazz pass greasy paper-wrapped burgers to each of them. She had bought them for this picnic as a comfort food treat. But in true Jazz fashion, she had also packed fruit for them too. Also true to Jazz’s character, she had packed a super vegan salad for Sam.  

"Man, it’s been a crazy month,” Tucker said, unwrapping his third burger with reverent care. His glasses slipped down his nose as he leaned forward, thumbs working deftly at his PDA between bites.

Wes snorted. "That’s one word for it, I really just ‘love’ the military and government agent occupation. I wonder if they’ll ever leave.” He crumpled his wrapper and tossed it at the paper bag between them, missing entirely.

Danny hadn't touched his food yet. The burger sat cooling in his hands, his burger had been spiked with extra ecto, just for him.  While the government had not given him trouble, and most people had accepted him, there were still the hateful and fearful few. Being called an "anomaly" was actually one of the kinder terms he'd heard recently.

"It's been a month," Danny said quietly, looking down at the grease seeping through the paper. "A month since Mars…..a month since everyone found out about me and everything here in Amity…….I almost wish they never did.”  He finally took a bite.

Sam's hand found his knee, squeezing gently. "At least your parents took it well. Better than any of us expected."

"Yeah," Danny smiled. That was worth it.

"They're still mad they can't experiment on ghosts anymore," Tucker chimed in, earning an elbow from Jazz.

"They're not mad they can't experiment on ghosts," Jazz corrected. "They're frustrated that the government has restricted all their research. Mom said they have to submit requests just to open the ghost portal now."

 The government had tried to get them to shut it down, but it was found that they couldn’t shut it off. Only open and close access to it, which was helpful to control when a ghost or a person went through it.

"But hey," Danny forced brightness into his voice, "not everything's terrible. At least NASA is nice, and Teddy wants us as interns. I’ll get to be an astronaut one day!”  

Tucker's face lit up. "Yeah, Dude, I’m taking them up on their offer!”  

"It means they want to make sure they have access to anyone who understands Danny," Sam said. 

Jazz smiled proudly. "It’s a good opportunity, and they seem like good allies to Danny; they were very good at making sure he was heard and not walked all over by those government agents.”

Wes shrugged, “I’m gonna at least try it out, not sure if I want to go that path, but I guess being your personal stalker finally paid off."

Danny laughed, “Wow, who knew being a creep would pay off?”

"The Ares crew wants to meet up this Friday," Danny said. "To catch up. They were really nice to me on Mars, I’ve missed them.”

"That’s good, you need to do more things to relax, you haven’t taken a break.” Jazz said simply. "Being the ambassador between the zone and Earth is huge, you need a break to just be a teenager, Danny.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mom!” he said sarcastically.

Tucker nudged Danny with his elbow. "So, what's it like being Mr. Popular now? How many times has Paulina asked you out now?”

Danny groaned, letting his head fall back against the tree. "It's weird,” He replied. Just a month ago, he would have been head over heels to be asked out by her. But now it just felt shallow. He found that he didn’t really want to date her now. “Dash asked if he could be my sidekick yesterday. He followed me around all day acting as my bodyguard…..” It was the strangest thing going from being pushed into lockers to having the school jock acting like his best friend and holding other rabid fans at bay.

"Traumatizing," Sam muttered in amusement.

"It's not all fan clubs, though," Danny said, his voice dropping. "There are people who think I'm... wrong. An abomination." The word tasted bitter on his tongue.

The group sobered again. Jazz reached across the blanket to squeeze his arm.

"Ignore those things…..people just fear what they don’t understand. At least the ghost zone has let up on attacking, they seem to listen to you now.” Jazz said.

"Yeah, apparently I'm their 'ambassador to the human realm' now, and I’m NASA and the US government's ambassador to the ghost zone. Somehow, I got both jobs.”

"Well, you are a half, so best man for the job.” Tucker snickered.

"Have they found Vlad yet?" Sam asked quietly.

Danny shook his head. "No. After everything came out about his ghost half, his companies, the way he's been manipulating politics for years... he just disappeared." Danny felt a bit of guilt about that, he had been the one to come clean about Vlad’s statues when asked. He just knew Vlad was looking to get his revenge at some point.  

"He'll come back," Danny said finally. It wasn't a question.

The others didn't contradict him.

---

Danny lay on his bed, staring at his ceiling. His peaceful moment was interrupted by his phone buzzing in his pocket.

A text from Mark Watney: --Still on for Friday? Crew's dying to catch up.--

--Wouldn't miss it,-- Danny texted back.

Mark replied: --That's the spirit! (Pun absolutely intended.)--

Danny slipped his phone back into his pants pocket. While it was wonderful that the president had labeled the GIW as terrorists and declared their operations illegal, it didn’t stop the GIW from causing trouble.

Their new status hadn't stopped them. They kept finding ways to attack Amity Park and Danny.

A knock at his door broke his thoughts.

"Honey? Agent Nelson is here to see you," his mother called.

Danny sighed. "Coming."

He trudged downstairs, each step heavier than the last. The house had become a revolving door of government officials—CIA, FBI, military specialists—all stationed in Amity Park for multiple reasons.

Agent Nelson wasn’t too bad. The agent at least didn’t treat Danny like some weird alien.

The memory of his brief meeting with President Davis floated to the surface of his mind. The president had visited Amity Park. When he'd shaken Danny's hand, something in the president's smile hadn't reached his eyes. There was a calculation there, assessing Danny and what he was worth, on how he could be of use to the President.

Something about the President set alarm bells in Danny’s mind.

Danny went down to his living room, where Agent Nelson was waiting for him.

“So when are you gonna actually put the GIW behind bars….you know, for terrorism….” Danny asked.

Agent Nelson let out a slow sigh. “We’re trying…...but they keep disappearing after an attack.”

Danny shrugged his shoulders. “I guess it’s possible they could be using a ghost or some sort of tech.”

“Hmph.” Agent Nelson replied, looking displeased.

Danny shook his head, it was another mystery to look into. “So why are you here again….not to be rude…..”

“It’s part of my job to see to your well-being,” Nelson replied. “You’re a very important ambassador now. Key to talking to the ghost of the zone and studying it.”

Danny rolled his eyes. Agent Nelson’s men had taken to keeping an eye on Danny and keeping notes of his whereabouts. Often stepping in when other citizens would crowd around Danny or when the GIW attacked. They were like his bodyguards. Way better than Dash. Not that he needed their help fighting. But it was nice to have the backup. Or the option to let them handle it. Danny hated having to fight other humans. 

“I’m also here to remind you of your next few meetings with the President and the other diplomats of the UN.”

Danny sighed how could he forget. He was helping the world understand ghosts, and if this meeting went well, he was planning on trying to introduce them to Frostbite. A huge part of Danny was still afraid to share too much. What if they turned on him or his allies in the zone? Using the knowledge gained......for violence.

Either way, his life was far from normal. Not that it was normal before. He supposes it could be worse. As long as the world was making an attempt for peace….. he’d do his best.  

----

Vlad Masters adjusted the frequency on the third of seven monitors. On one monitor, it showed the real-time feed of the Fenton's kitchen. He traced a finger along the screen as Maddie Fenton moved across the kitchen. She’ll be his one day.

Six weeks since his exposure. He would get his revenge against Danny. This was all his fault, he had lost everything.

The monitor to his left displayed a map of Amity Park, white dots indicating GIW agents.

On the central screen, Danny Fenton was now visible, his lanky frame slouched at the kitchen table as he picked at his food. Vlad zoomed the camera, focusing on the boy's face.

"You foolish little badger," Vlad hissed. "Just you wait.”

Danny Phantom, beloved hero, accepted for his dual nature while Vlad Masters was hunted like a criminal for the same condition.

The injustice of it burned.

He tapped a key, and the image changed to show four GIW agents.

Vlad smirked, after getting exposed he had approached their director…..agent A. Vlad of course was, disguised as a wealthy investor interested in ghost containment. He, of course, had overshadowed someone.

The man he had…...borrowed was in a deep sleep in the other room. He’s had use of the man as a puppet for his revenge.

He had found that the GIW agents’ minds were weak. His duplicates could easily overshadow them and force them to do his bidding.

The GIW attacks were mere distractions, designed to exhaust Daniel physically and emotionally.

The federal agents' presence was an unforeseen complication, but it would not stop him.

He opened a drawer and removed a small device resembling a wristwatch. This was his newest creation, standard overshadowing, while useful, was limited by his having to personally overshadow someone. And with the right ghost tech, overshadowing could be impossible. But with his “Puppet Maker,” he could do so much more. This would allow for something far more insidious: a remote possession. It could get past the anti-ghost belts.

He had already started testing it on the GIW agents. It worked perfectly. Those bumbling fools were now his puppet army. He'd have them attack and then easily help them disappear for those nosy government agents. 

Perhaps he’d use it on Jazz first. After all, she was the most observant. The most likely to notice something amiss with the others.  

Jack would be next, his oversized body providing the strength needed to subdue Maddie.

She’d understand one day, he’d make her understand.

Then he’d take out those annoying brats, the ones Daniel called friends.

Then, finally, with his family neutralized, Daniel would stand alone. Vulnerable. Exhausted from fighting the GIW. Then he’d meet his end at the hands of those he loved most.

"The beginning of the end, Daniel," Vlad whispered. "And you won't see it coming until it's far too late."

Chapter Text

Danny pressed his back against the cool metal of his locker. He felt a shadow fall over him.

Dash Baxter.

A month ago, Dash had shoved Danny into this very locker, calling him "Fen-turd" and promising a swirly if he ever looked at him wrong. Now, Dash wore a homemade t-shirt with Danny's logo emblazoned across the chest.

"Fenton!" Dash's voice boomed down the hallway. "Been looking for you, buddy!"

Danny suppressed a sigh. "Hey, Dash."

"Got you something." Dash thrusting a protein shake, grinning expectantly.

Danny reluctantly took the protein shake. "Uh, thanks?"

"Been thinking," Dash said, slinging a heavy arm around Danny's shoulders. "You need a sidekick, right? Someone to help with the ghost stuff when you're busy? Someone with muscles?" He flexed his free arm demonstratively.

"Sorry, I've got a team," Danny said. "Besides, ghost fighting is dangerous without powers."

"I can do what those nerds do! Besides, I could get powers!" Dash insisted, grip tightening around Danny's shoulders. "Like, you could zap me with something, right? Or bite me? Does it work like a werewolf thing?"

"It doesn't—that's not—" Danny phased himself out of Dash's grip, a reflex he immediately regretted when several nearby students gasped and started recording with their phones.

"So cool," Dash whispered, eyes wide. "OH, I know! I can be a bodyguard! You need that, right?"

The warning bell rang, offering Danny a momentary reprieve. "Gotta get to class," he said, backing away. "Sure, totally, knock yourself out……thanks for the... protein shake." He turned and hurried down the hall. Dash scrambling to keep up, to act as his new bodyguard.

---

Everywhere Danny went, he met with fans.’ Out in town was worse. At school, at least the novelty was wearing thin for those who saw him daily.

"It's him!"

"Danny Phantom!"

"Can I get a picture?"

"Will you sign my face?"

"Does it hurt when you transform?"

"Are you dead or alive?"

"My cousin says you're a government experiment."

The questions never stopped. Most was just curiosity, others not so much.

"—shouldn't be allowed in public—"

"—unnatural—"

It wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle…..but it still hurt.

He’d just keep doing what he did best.

Protect.

And give his best.

Chapter Text

President Alfred Davis watched the presentation with the careful neutrality he'd perfected over the years in politics. 

"As you can see, Mr. President,"  Agent A continued, his white suit pristine as always, "we've made significant breakthroughs in ectoplasmic containment and energy extraction."

Agent A clicked to the next slide. Charts and graphs appeared, meaningless to anyone without specialized knowledge.

"And you're certain these... entities... aren't sentient?" Davis asked, his voice carefully measured. The question wasn't born from compassion but political necessity. The last thing his administration needed was an ethical scandal. If these things weren’t real aliens, if that boy stuck on Mars wasn’t even a person, it would make things much easier. And perhaps he’d go down in history as the president to find a new energy source.

Agent A's smile was thin. "Certain, sir. Despite their humanoid appearance and occasional vocalizations that might suggest intelligence, our research proves they're simply complex energy manifestations. Ectoplasmic entities mimic human behavior through a process we call 'posthumous impression.' It's no more conscious than an echo."

"This includes that alien boy on Mars? How does he fit in all this?” Davis asked.

"It’s not an alien and not a boy, sir……we would use it as a power source, sir," the second agent replied. "Clean, renewable energy. One ghost of this caliber could power several city blocks indefinitely. Multiple specimens could revolutionize our energy infrastructure."

"Ending our dependence on foreign oil," Davis mused, the political benefits already calculating in his mind. "Solving the Climate Crisis."

"Precisely, Mr. President."

“Would you be able to capture more of these ghosts?” Davis asked.

“Of course, sir, that is our mission in life.” Agent A said with pride.

"I'm authorizing the Ghost Battery Initiative," Davis said finally. "I’ll have you work with NASA to bring our Astronaut home and our new resource. I’ll give as much funding as you need, I expect results."

Agent A smiled. "Of course, Mr. President. You won't regret this decision."

Chapter Text

 The storm rages violently as they race towards the ship. Suddenly, a brutal gust catches Mark, tearing him away from the group.

"Mark!" Danny cries hoarsely. Drawing on his last reserves of ghostly energy, he reaches out with his telekinetic power. Mark's body halts in mid-air, then comes flying back towards them.

Martinez is knocked aside as Mark's inert form slams into him. He loses his grip on Danny, who tumbles to the ground.

Vogel swiftly scoops up Mark and heads for the ship. Meanwhile, Danny lies crumpled and unmoving, finally reverting to human form, the only thing protecting him from the Martian environment was the spare space suit and helmet the crew had dressed him in. Martinez gathers the limp boy in his arms.

Once on board, Martinez straps in and holds Danny’s limp body against his chest, doing his best to keep him safe. The boy remained frighteningly still, his breathing shallow.

Nearby, Mark is strapped in, also unconscious.

As the ship leaves Mars' orbit, Beck carefully examines Mark's injuries, cleaning and bandaging the wounds.

Meanwhile, Martinez gently removes Danny's spacesuit to assess his condition. To the crew's immense shock, the boy now appears fully human, complete with jeans and a t-shirt. Martinez checks his vitals - heartbeat steady, while slower than the norm, breathing regular, temperature below average.

"He has transformed completely." Murmured Vogel.

The crew exchanged baffled looks. Lewis shakes her head in wonderment. "Is his species capable of shapeshifting?"

"Maybe some kind of chameleon-like adaptation?" suggests Johanssen.

"It could be a defense mechanism," says Beck thoughtfully. "Mimicking his environment to survive."

Some time later, Danny stirs with a faint moan. Bleary blue eyes blink open, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. Martinez had given him his seat. 

"Easy there," soothes Beck, leaning over him. "You're safe."

Danny freezes. Glancing down at his human hands, he begins to tremble. "No no no..." he whispers. "This can't be happening..."

Beck stared in surprise. "You can speak English?"

Danny meets his gaze, terror etched on his face. "You weren't supposed to find out," he chokes out. "I didn't want you to know!"

Shocked, Beck places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Ok, Ok, It's alright, deep breaths.”

Danny squeezes his eyes shut. He turns his face away, wishing he could simply vanish. Trapped and exhausted, he sees no way out now.

"Please don't hate me," he whispers brokenly. "I'm not...I'm not really an alien. I'm...I'm half human."

Danny takes a shuddering breath, then begins to explain in a small voice.

"There was an accident in my parents' lab. I got blasted by the portal they were building to the Ghost Zone. It...it changed me. Gave me ghost powers. I became half ghost, half human."

He lifts a hand, willing it to turn invisible, but nothing happens. Defeated, he lets it drop back to his side.

"I use my powers to protect people from ghost attacks back home. But there are some who see me as a threat or want to experiment on me." His voice drops to a haunted whisper. "The Guys in White. They've been hunting me. Trying to tear me apart molecule by molecule."

Horrified gasps echo through the cabin. Commander Lewis lays a gentle hand on Danny's shoulder.

"We won't let anyone hurt you like that again," she vows, steel in her tone. The rest of the Ares crew murmured their agreement.