The hard, metallic floor of the Med-Lab clunked beneath Connelly's feet as she paced, occasionally glancing at Peterson. The man she had come to know as a confident, strong willed and sometimes macho personality now had his forearm strapped to a short operating table, and he was whimpering like a school boy with a skinned knee.

"Ahh! Hurts like hell," Peterson complained, as Choi pinched the festering puncture wound on the back of his hand. A red tinged foam oozed from the gash. Choi added pressure and Peterson began sucking air in between his clenched teeth. Connelly felt sure he would soon let out a scream. But Choi eased up as soon as the liquid draining from his hand began running clear.

Connelly noticed that Choi had all but ignored Peterson's complaint of pain. She also noticed how Harris, who stood behind Choi, his arms crossed tight across his chest, had remained expressionless throughout the ordeal. He was impossible to read, but one thing was for sure, his normally friendly demeanor was gone. Connelly was sure the captain's confidence in her was shattered; that she and Peterson might very well be excluded from the remainder of the mission and banned from the Europhid samples. If she were in change, that's the decision she would make.

Why did I listen to him? she thought.

A typhoon of rage swirled though Connelly's mind. All affection for Peterson dissipated, replaced by anger. But not just at Peterson, at herself as well. While he had smuggled the Europhid from the lab, she had followed him. He had activated the plant incubator, but she had watched-seduced by curiosity. And now she might lose her position and life's work. All her dreams, all her passion, might have been destroyed by the stupidity of one attractive man and her own foolishness.

"Watch it!" Peterson said in a loud voice that bordered on yelling.

Choi stood above Peterson's hand, clasping a sharp pair of tweezers between her gloved fingers. "Keep your hand still, Dr. Peterson. I wouldn't want to make the wound worse." Choi's voice was controlled and even, but there was no doubting that she would follow up on her veiled threat. Peterson bit his lip and made his body rigid, holding as still as possible.

Peterson's face twisted with pain as Choi slid the needle-tipped tweezers inside his hand. She tried three times, unsuccessfully, to grasp something buried between his metacarpals. Peterson's flesh turned white and his body went slack. On the forth attempt, Choi grasped something with the tweezers and quickly yanked it out.

Reacting to the immense pain, Peterson yanked his hand back and pulled the small table up into the air. He was about to protest when he saw the centimeter-long sliver, that looked more like a piranha's tooth, held firmly in the tweezers grasp. "God...what is it?"

"The result of your ignorance," Choi said as she looked over the thorny object. Peterson didn't offer a defense. Choi continued, "My best guess is it's a stinger."

Harris was behind Choi now, his expression stern. "Like a bee?"

Choi nodded.

Peterson looked down at his hand, which was covered in ruddy foam, blood and clear liquid. "Then I've been poisoned?"

"We don't know what, if anything, you've been injected with," Choi said. "But it is certain that your body had a reaction to some kind of foreign substance. I would say you're lucky."

"How's that?" Peterson said.

"You are the first human being with which these Europhids have experienced physical contact. I highly doubt that whatever is in your system will accomplish what ever it was designed to do."

"So I'll live?"

Choi placed the stinger in a metal bowl and began removing her rubber gloves. "Fifty-fifty."

"That's not funny," Peterson said as he began to free his injured hand from the straps that held him to the table.

Choi stopped removing her second glove and stared Peterson down. "It wasn't meant to be. We have no idea what kind of toxin is in your system and how it will react. The only information that might relate is the incident involving your deceased crew member."

Connelly's memory kicked in. After Peterson had been stung in the Bio-lab he mentioned not wanting to end up like someone. What was his name? But before Peterson could tell her who the man was, Peterson gasped in pain, surged forward and passed out. Twenty minutes later he awoke in the Med-lab and had been strapped down. What was his name? Benjamin? Bernard? She knew it began with a "B." "Benson." Connelly hadn't meant to say the name aloud, but everyone heard her.

Harris squinted at Connelly and then shifted an angry stare to Peterson. "That was classified information, mister."

Connelly sensed the water was rising up over her neck and would soon drown her and Peterson. "All he said was the name."

Harris and Choi stared at her, obviously weighing their options, the result of which, Connelly could only imagine. Not wanting to wait to find out, Connelly decided to put the pieces together herself. Benson must have been the crew member Choi mentioned. He had died from similar circumstances to Peterson's situation. Meaning what? Benson had come in contact with Europhids previous to the onset of this mission...on Earth.

Connelly's eyes grew wide. "Why didn't you tell us?" Her question was directed at Harris.

The sudden reversal of questioning unbalanced Harris's demeanor. "I, ah, I think you better-"

"I think you better tell me the truth. Withholding information that could have got me or my crew injured or killed is not something I will tolerate."

Harris stood silently. Choi watched him, apparently waiting to follow his lead.

"Okay. You tell me if I'm wrong." Connelly turned her attention to Peterson. "Your discovery in the Arctic, the meteorite, contained a biological sample. Your crew member, Benson, came into contact with the sample and died. But his death didn't stop anyone from moving on, from considering the postponement of this mission."

Peterson looked at Harris, then back to Connelly. "You got one thing wrong."

Connelly crossed her arms.

"Benson's death inspired the mission. There were no plans for a manned Europa expedition until after Benson died."

Connelly's face fell flat. Anger vibrated through her body. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. The urge to punch Peterson was all consuming. But she knew two truths that kept her in check. First: today's incident was as much her fault as theirs. She shouldn't have encouraged Peterson by staying. What she should have done was report his actions to the captain and been done with it. Second, had she known about Benson's death, she would still have come to Europa. That didn't change the fact that the concealment of this information could have killed her friends.

"Here's what's going to happen," Connelly said. "You do whatever you need to with him." She motioned at Peterson with her head. "But my mission will continue as scheduled. The blame for this incident lies on all four of us and whoever higher up in the food chain decided to keep Benson's death a secret. I am going to tell Ethan and Robert about this, and I expect," Connelly looked into Choi's eyes, "that you will answer any questions Ethan might have regarding our safety."

After thirty seconds of silence, Harris uncrossed his arms and relaxed his tensed up shoulders. "Departure is scheduled for twenty minutes from now. Give us a half hour?"

Connelly nodded.

"What about me?" Peterson asked, as he stood up.

Choi placed her hand firmly on Peterson's shoulder and pushed him back into the chair. "Twenty-four hour quarantine. Standard procedure. Harris will monitor you via the video feed."

Peterson began to complain, but Choi's next words came quick and loud. "While blame ultimately rests on all our shoulders, your actions today could have cost you your life, not to mention the lives of everyone else on board. You should be grateful a day in the Med-lab is all you're getting."

Connelly turned to Choi and said, "See you in a half hour." Then she strode for the door, not wanting to show any concern for Peterson. She knew the lingering feelings for the man were still there, but she wouldn't soon forget what he'd done. How could she trust a man who so easily kept dangerous secrets?

"Kathy," Peterson said.

Connelly paused at the door.

"Be careful down there."

The door whooshed shut behind Connelly as she left without another word.

CHAPTER 14 -- CHANGES.

After meeting with Connelly and being told about the incident in the Bio-lab, Robert had helped himself to a copy of the security feed. He was now watching the replay for the fifth time on his digital tablet. The crystal clear, high def video and impeccable sound allowed him to focus in on visual and audio details that might otherwise be missed.

He played the footage again.

Robert watched as Peterson crouched in front of the plant incubator, waiving his hand back and forth, allowing the Europhid tendril to follow his every move.

How could he be so foolish?

How could Kathy?

Peterson's voice came from the tablet. "It seems intelligent...at least enough for motion tracking. Maybe it's an automatic reflex? Like Venus Flytraps?"

"Venus fly traps react to touch."

"So?"

Robert sighed. No wonder the man works with rocks.

"If the Europhid is tracking your movements...it can see you," Kathy said on the screen.

Body tensing for the inevitable, Robert leaned forward. He knew that this was where the first of the two tragedies took place. Robert paused the feed, framed out Peterson and zoomed on Kathy's face. Her eyes were closed, so she didn't see what happened next. But what stood out the most were her pursed lips, which curved up in a slight smile.

"Ugh." Robert leaned back in his chair and frowned. Why him? A confusing and nearly overwhelming feeling of jealousy clenched his throat, tightening in to a painful knot. He loved Connelly, but not as a lover.

That's what he told himself, what he'd been telling himself for so long that he now believed it.

Almost.

Zooming out and resuming the feed, Robert watched as the plant incubator shattered. A blur of red struck out, hitting Peterson's hand as he fell back-a perfect shot. The Europhids could not only sense movement, they were damn good shots.

After briefly rewinding, Robert played the footage in slow motion, while zooming in on the Europhid tendril. He watched as Peterson turned his head toward Connelly, and just as he lost sight of the creature, it reeled back and stabbed forward with a quickness that Robert had only seen in rapid striking Earth predators such as the wolf spider or king cobra. The sting had pierced Peterson's hand before the glass hit the floor.

Robert paused the footage and zoomed in again, focusing on the Europhid tendril. Playing the feed, frame by frame, Robert was able to witness what Connelly and Peterson did not. As the innocent looking tendril snapped back, a retractable stinger emerged. It launched forward, broke the glass and stabbed into Peterson's hand. But as it pulled back into the incubator, the stinger was still there. A split second later, the thorny weapon had been retracted, only the tip was missing.

Was the Europhid truly like a bee, only able to sting once? Or would the stinger that was left behind in Peterson's hand regenerate, able to strike again? But that's not what concerned him the most. The tendril and stinger were fascinating, but there was something more to this video...something he couldn't quite place...something that chilled him.

He watched the video again, frame by frame. As Peterson turned his head and the tendril struck out, Robert realized what he was seeing. The Europhid isn't just seeing, it's thinking. Strategizing. The Europhid had waited patiently, amusing Peterson, until his attention was diverted and his hand was in striking distance.

The act was deliberate and planned. The Europhids were intelligent.

They were more than just plants.

Robert scratched his head, creating a bird's nest in his hair. His hand stopped moving when he came to a realization.

The tendril and stinger are weapons. Just because we haven't seen them on the other Europhids doesn't mean they're not equipped with similar appendages. If they're all able to attack maybe they're not the harmless plants we've taken them for.

Maybe they're predators?

After spending five minutes in a blazing hot shower, Connelly felt the confusion surrounding the events of the last hour beginning to fade. She dressed quickly and hurried to the docking bay, where she waited for Robert. Willard and Choi had boarded Lander One three minutes ago. The hum of electricity emanating from the lander told her the ship was prepped and ready to go. So was she.

Where are you, Robert?

Just then, the decon room's doors hissed open and Robert stepped into the landing bay. He removed the PMS hood as he walked, revealing his bushy beard, messy head of hair and thickly wrinkled brow. He strode toward Connelly with sweeping, rapid steps.

Connelly could see that something was bothering her old friend, but had enough stress for one day and hoped to bypass any serious discussions. He had yet to lecture her about the incident involving Peterson and the Europhid, and she was thankful for that, but she knew it would eventually come. Still, she couldn't just ignore his urgent demeanor. "What's got your forehead so wrinkled?"

After coming to an abrupt stop, Robert took a deep breath, let it out slowly and licked his lips nervously. "So I was reviewing the security footage from the Bio-lab."

Connelly held her breath for only a moment, but enough to reveal her discomfort with the subject. "You have?"

Robert nodded slowly. "Yes, and-"

"Hey, boat's leaving," Willard said as he leaned out of Lander One's hatch. His jovial demeanor sounded forced. She had given him a quick rundown on what she'd found out about Benson. His mood had dulled since, but he was trying to remain optimistic. He couldn't help it. His glass was perpetually half full.

"Can it wait?" Connelly said. The words were shoved out with an anxious quickness.

"I'm just the messenger, boss," Willard said. "Choi said to get your asses in here. Well, those weren't her exact words, but-"

"We're coming," Connelly said with an effort not to sound upset. Connelly rolled her head on her shoulders and sighed. "Can we finish this later?" she said to Robert. "Maybe when we have a little more privacy?"

Robert squinted his eyes, expressing his confusion without saying a word.

"I don't want everything that happened in the Bio-lab to be public knowledge," she whispered.

"Ahh," Robert said, a trace of a smile emerging on his face. "Understood."

"Thanks."

As Connelly turned to enter Lander One, Robert squeezed her shoulders and continued to do so, all the way up into the ship. "Don't worry," he said, "if we find anything remotely like what was discovered on the surface, all of the days mistakes will be forgotten."

Connelly chuckled as the lander's hatch sealed shut behind them. Moments later, the hiss of depressurization filled the bay and the docking bay doors peeled apart. Jupiter's great red spot swirled before them. Lander One lifted gently off the floor and glided out into space.

The silence in the Med-lab began to chew at Peterson's nerves. With no one to talk to, no one to ease his nerves, he had grown increasingly nervous. His palms became slick and his forehead dripped with sweat. He attempted to distract himself by thinking about the chemical composition of the red soil on which the Europhids grew, but his thoughts always returned to the Europhid and its daggered appendage.

He looked at his bandaged hand and noticed that blood had begun seeping through. He willed his thoughts to a better topic.

Connelly.

Kathy.

He wasn't sure she would have anything to do with him after the dust settled, but he hoped so. She was brilliant, strong and could hold her ground-an attribute he valued in women. He had always found himself attracted to independent woman. He wondered if that's why he was still single. He had always thought his bachelorhood had developed as a result of spending so much time in the arctic. But maybe it was just his taste in women.

Peterson's thoughts flashed back to the Bio-lab. He could see Connelly again, closing her eyes, puckering her soft, inviting lips. He wanted nothing else in the world than to kiss her at that moment. All his attention had been focused solely on her. That was when the Europhid struck.

A chill rippled across Peterson's flesh, raising the hairs across his legs, chest, arms and neck. Images of the large Europhid filled his mind's eye. He saw the foam spilling from his hand. He remembered the stinger as it was pulled from the wound. And the smell-foul like feces-from his hand.

Peterson's stomach turned over and he was violently propelled to the floor. A fountain of vomit exploded from his mouth, taking his breath away. Gasping for air and wiping his mouth with his sleeve, Peterson climbed back to his feet. He stumbled to the nearest table and attempted to compose himself.