and they walked together to the entryway where Kremon was letting their guest in.
She stared at the horns and stowed the pattern away for later as she met her very first dhemon. It was her first alien of many.
Chapter Two
Three years of medical training and a specialization in altering others’ physiologies gained Illuma a prime position in the Citadel. She changed folks.
Her personality did not lend itself to going on investigative missions, but her skills and awareness of the details of biology made her the perfect person to change the travelling operatives into something that would pass a close inspection.
She used her machines to alter the organs and bones, but when it came to skin, she used herself.
Illuma sent off another one of the agents from her small and solitary space station near Lowel. While there were treatments to create an artificial skin, Illuma had better results in coating her clients with a fine mist and shaping it to the texture that she wanted. The organs would be subjected to entry scans at borders and space stations. The skin could be altered to fake a genetic signature if you knew what you were doing, and she did.
Her expertise was letting the Citadel scout talents in races that didn’t know other species existed and who did not think highly of anyone who stood out.
When the agent was done, she recalled the part of herself that they were wearing at the same time that she renovated their organs back into normal formation.
Illuma spent a lot of time alone, and she liked it that way. Working with the agents and dropping them off on their target worlds was fun, but it was not what she really enjoyed. Her true passion had come as a surprise to her, but she liked to paint.
Paint was an absolute; it was a representation of a place or time that could exist, or it could be completely imaginary, but the colours were real. The paint was real, and the canvas was solid. It reminded her of herself. She looked one way, but she could change into anything else with just a bit of effort and an alteration in her surface.
Her com chimed, and she finished cleaning the lab as she called out, “Incognito Station, at your service.”
Her voice was the one thing she hadn’t been able to work on. She could change the pitch, but her inflection was still flat. Even her features had the possibility to smile and laugh, but she didn’t know what kind of stimuli would manage that feat.
“Illuma, there is an incoming request from Lowel. A specialist needs a fast turnover. Can you manage it?”
“I can try. Send me the specs and get him in the zip. I am just tidying up after my last appointment. I will be ready within the hour.”
“Thank you, Specialist Ambrehar. We will get him bundled up and off to you.”
As the call disconnected, she called out, “Display detail of incoming file.”
The scrolling information indicated that the man coming to her was damaged but intact. He needed to change his face and alter his physiology a little. Nothing that would take her more than two hours. After that, a request to take him to his destination was in place.
Illuma frowned at the lack of painting time, but she got ready for her incoming guest.
The shuttle was set to fuel, the autoclaves ran and everything was ready when the zip shuttle docked with her small station.
It was time to earn the ridiculous amount of pay that she got for each alteration.
Her client was covered in a long cloak and limping heavily. Illuma debated whether to go easy on him and finally just said, “Strip.”
He paused, and the deep hood turned toward her. “I beg your pardon?”
“Strip. I need to get at all your skin for this alteration, and if you are wounded, I need to make repairs. Both events mean that your clothing is coming off.” She nodded to a changing screen. “You can find a wrap over there. There is also a refresher unit, so hang up your clothing, and it will be ready to wear when you need it again.”
She
She stared at the horns and stowed the pattern away for later as she met her very first dhemon. It was her first alien of many.
Chapter Two
Three years of medical training and a specialization in altering others’ physiologies gained Illuma a prime position in the Citadel. She changed folks.
Her personality did not lend itself to going on investigative missions, but her skills and awareness of the details of biology made her the perfect person to change the travelling operatives into something that would pass a close inspection.
She used her machines to alter the organs and bones, but when it came to skin, she used herself.
Illuma sent off another one of the agents from her small and solitary space station near Lowel. While there were treatments to create an artificial skin, Illuma had better results in coating her clients with a fine mist and shaping it to the texture that she wanted. The organs would be subjected to entry scans at borders and space stations. The skin could be altered to fake a genetic signature if you knew what you were doing, and she did.
Her expertise was letting the Citadel scout talents in races that didn’t know other species existed and who did not think highly of anyone who stood out.
When the agent was done, she recalled the part of herself that they were wearing at the same time that she renovated their organs back into normal formation.
Illuma spent a lot of time alone, and she liked it that way. Working with the agents and dropping them off on their target worlds was fun, but it was not what she really enjoyed. Her true passion had come as a surprise to her, but she liked to paint.
Paint was an absolute; it was a representation of a place or time that could exist, or it could be completely imaginary, but the colours were real. The paint was real, and the canvas was solid. It reminded her of herself. She looked one way, but she could change into anything else with just a bit of effort and an alteration in her surface.
Her com chimed, and she finished cleaning the lab as she called out, “Incognito Station, at your service.”
Her voice was the one thing she hadn’t been able to work on. She could change the pitch, but her inflection was still flat. Even her features had the possibility to smile and laugh, but she didn’t know what kind of stimuli would manage that feat.
“Illuma, there is an incoming request from Lowel. A specialist needs a fast turnover. Can you manage it?”
“I can try. Send me the specs and get him in the zip. I am just tidying up after my last appointment. I will be ready within the hour.”
“Thank you, Specialist Ambrehar. We will get him bundled up and off to you.”
As the call disconnected, she called out, “Display detail of incoming file.”
The scrolling information indicated that the man coming to her was damaged but intact. He needed to change his face and alter his physiology a little. Nothing that would take her more than two hours. After that, a request to take him to his destination was in place.
Illuma frowned at the lack of painting time, but she got ready for her incoming guest.
The shuttle was set to fuel, the autoclaves ran and everything was ready when the zip shuttle docked with her small station.
It was time to earn the ridiculous amount of pay that she got for each alteration.
Her client was covered in a long cloak and limping heavily. Illuma debated whether to go easy on him and finally just said, “Strip.”
He paused, and the deep hood turned toward her. “I beg your pardon?”
“Strip. I need to get at all your skin for this alteration, and if you are wounded, I need to make repairs. Both events mean that your clothing is coming off.” She nodded to a changing screen. “You can find a wrap over there. There is also a refresher unit, so hang up your clothing, and it will be ready to wear when you need it again.”
She
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