Tannis and Junk Tongue

The neon pink glow of Moxxi’s bar fades behind me as I make my way toward the command center, boots echoing softly on the grated floor. Sanctuary III’s corridors hum with the low thrum of engines and the distant murmur of refugees settling in; quiet relief after the storm we just survived.

But a familiar voice stops me cold.

“Oh, Vault Hunter. A moment of your time.”

I smile and turn. Patricia Tannis stands in the doorway of her medical bay/research room; leather jacket and pants clinging to her slender frame like a second skin, every seam and zipper screaming both practicality and unintentional seduction. Her short hair is slightly mussed, goggles resting atop, eyes sharp with curiosity burning brighter than any supernova. She’s all seriousness and leather, and there’s that undercurrent of clinical fascination that makes every conversation with her feel like you’re about to be dissected; figuratively, usually.

Her info pops across my HUD:

Name: DR. PATRICIA TANNIS A.K.A. “THE VAULT WHISPERER”

Occupation: Eridian Archaeologist/Crimson Raiders Chief Scientist/Professional Boundary Violator

Class: Mad Scientist/Social Anomaly

Level: 94 (Experience gained: surviving Pandora longer than medically recommended)

Status: Brilliant, and currently staring at you like a microscope slide

Specialties: Vault research, alien technology, experimental science, a deeply inappropriate bedside manner

Height: 5’7”

Weight: Classified under Dahl medical records as “not relevant to the experiment”

Abilities: Scientific Curiosity (passive aura that causes nearby allies to become uncomfortable test subjects), Data Extraction Protocol (obtains useful information from ruins, computers, and occasionally people)

Affiliation: Crimson Raiders/Vault Research Division/Whatever she’s currently dissecting

Quote: “Please remain still. Your discomfort is interfering with my observations.”

Mood: Calmly fascinated by things that should terrify normal humans

Threat Level: MODERATE (combat) / **** (ethical)

Fun Fact: Dr. Tannis once spent three weeks living inside an Eridian ruin with nothing but a notebook, a flashlight, and several jars labeled “Probably Not Poison.”

She eyes me up and down like I’m destined to be pinned to corkboard.

“My my my,” she says, voice clinical but edged with something almost playful. “Lilith wasn’t exaggerating. You are quite the specimen. Though I doubt that you truly are sporting a third leg.”

I smile; figurative language escaping her, as usual. “How can I be of assistance, Tannis?”

“Ah, yes. Small talk also makes me want to vomit. Please join me in my lab.”

I follow her inside. The view isn’t bad, short hair swaying slightly as she walks. The lab itself is a beautiful mess: one wall dominated by a massive slab of concrete etched with glowing Eridian symbols, leaning like a monolith; a central table cluttered with not-so-sterile surgical instruments next to delicate laboratory equipment; in the corner, a vintage arcade machine standing upright, screen flickering faintly.

Before I can turn to say anything, a hypodermic needle jabs into my bicep, vial filling dark red, quick, efficient, no warning. I jolt back, wincing more from surprise than pain.

“I’m sorry,” she says with zero actual apology in her tone, already turning toward her microscope. “Are you trypanophobic?” She doesn’t even look up. “That’s an intense fear of needles, vaccinations, blood draws, IV insertions, and the like.”

I look down at my arm; the puncture already closing, skin knitting smooth in seconds, not even a scar left behind. I wonder if she caught it.

“Needles are nothing,” I say, tugging my sleeve down further. “I’ve had bullets pierce my body about as many times as anyone on this ship.”

“Ah yes, the ‘war.’” She waves a dismissive hand, eyes glued to her scope. “Bandits were already prone to ****. It didn’t surprise me how easily they took to worshiping a deity like the Calypsos. Though I suspect their deaths may make them lash out.” She glances at a readout on her ECHO device. “Remarkable.”

She taps a button and a holographic image of a DNA strand; my DNA; projects onto the central table, spinning slowly in brilliant violet and gold.

“That good or that bad?” I ask.

“Neither. Both. I haven’t decided yet.”

The image enlarges, focusing on several key strands; markers glowing brighter than the rest.

“Your genome contains several markers that predate our human divergence across the Border Systems. In simpler terms… your biology is old. Very old.”

I tilt my head. “Define old.”

“Centuries. Possibly more.” She barely looks at me. “Which would already make you interesting enough to dissect; scientifically, of course.”

“Of course.” I chuckle; dryly.

She flicks to another dataset, ahighlighted cluster of genetic interactions pulsing like a heartbeat.

“More fascinating, however, is this. These markers appear unusually stable when interacting with Siren-derived cellular samples.”

“Lilith?”

Tannis nods once, sharp. “I understand you’ve made several deposits into our leader. At least that was what I was able to derive from Claptrap’s meandering babble.” She doesn’t blush, doesn’t even blink. “Most humans exhibit severe genetic instability when exposed to Siren bio-energy signatures. You do not. In fact… your DNA appears to display several other powers other than what we’ve witnessed.”

“You saying that’s normal?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Tannis says brightly. “It is deeply abnormal. Which is why I will need several more samples. Unfortunately Lilith was adamant I, quote, ‘stay away from her lady parts.’”

“I’m regretting asking.”

“Yes,” Tannis replies, returning to the screen. “That tends to be the usual reaction when I’m speaking. I was wondering if I could get a demonstration of your talents.”

I don’t read too much into her request; she’s pretty straightforward. “How so?”

She seems to realize the double entendre for half a second, blinks once, then dismisses it. “Oh my, no, not that; though standing offer, my quarters are quite comfortable. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind creating a soldier from any of the items in this room?” She gestures. There is plenty of tech here that could work; her centrifuge, her microscope… but my eyes lock on the retro arcade stand in the corner.

My HUD pings information:

Borderlands Science Terminal

Class: Puzzle Device / Questionable Research Tool

Function: “Allegedly helping science. Mostly addictive.”

I focus my ability on it. The screen flickers, folding inward. The sides push out, bend and split, reforming until it stands tall; blocky, glowing, a hulking arcade cabinet turned war machine.

Sentient Companion: ArC@de [Arcade Stand] – Ground Class

Gamer’s Beware

Attack: Fires “Tetris” blocks

Special Perk: Tannis lab assistant

• A small percentage of beings may experience photosensitive epileptic seizures when exposed to certain, intense flashing lights, repetitive, or high-contrast patterns.

“Is assistance required to restrain the patient?” ArC@de asks in a synthesized voice that sounds suspiciously like a 1980s game announcer.

I put my hand up. “Stand down, soldier. You work for Tannis.”

“Hmm, I suspected that,” Tannis says, tapping on her ECHO device again.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“You speak with them,” she says, eyes narrowing. “I suspect you also understand them?”

“What do you mean? He just asked you if you needed help restraining me.” I smile.

“I can assure you ‘he’ did not.” She taps the screen again. “This may be a part of your abilities. Your brain is interpreting their telemetry as conversational structure. A sort of… Scrap Speak or Junk Tongue, patent pending.”

Lilith pops into my vision; live feed, still wrapped in her sheet, hair tousled.

Bzzt. “Hey Vault Hunter, I need you on the bridge. You can play with Tannis when you get back.” Her love display winks. “Maybe I’ll watch you two play ‘doctor.’” And with that she blinks out.

Tannis sits on a stool, back to her studies. “I hate when she says that. I’m an archaeologist specializing in Eridian history and a scientist.”

I smile. “Never change, Tannis.” And head to the bridge.