Tom thought over the options for a long, long time which felt like over a year. "The super-sensitive microphone is just too situational. I'll try to work on one device to be both a listener or a jammer. It's more difficult, but I just can't decide."

He went back to the shipboard store and bought a music player with an LCD screen and wireless capabilities.

Back at the workshop, Chief Petty Officer Henderson hunched over a circuit board, the soldering iron in his hand dipping with mechanical precision as he adjusted a faulty connection. He barely glanced up when Tom stepped inside.

"Back again? Thought you'd gotten bored of scavenging through my junk drawer," Henderson said, smirking as he nudged a pile of discarded components toward him.

Tom shrugged, feigning casual interest. "Figured I'd tinker with something in my downtime. They always say the best way to learn is to take stuff apart."

Henderson grunted in agreement, setting down the soldering iron. "Got that right. You wreck it, you understand it better. What are you working on?"

"Ah, just a little project," Tom said vaguely. "Modding a wireless player, trying to boost its reception."

Henderson raised an eyebrow but didn't press. "Well, if you make something that actually works, let me know. Might be interested to hear your explanation of how it works."

Tom nodded, while internally he was thinking "Hell no," as he gathered a handful of parts that looked promising. He settled at an empty workbench and began assembling his prototype.

---

Hours later, in the quiet of his quarters, he held the makeshift device in his hands. The outer shell was a repurposed music player, using some of its internals and stripping and rewiring the rest. The listener was far from complete; even if he had unlimited time, he still needed the manuals to complete it. And he hadn't started on the jammer. He powered it on, adjusting the tiny dial, scanning across different frequencies.

Mostly static.

He tried holding it against a bulkhead. A faint flicker of feedback, but nothing significant.

Then, on a whim, he pressed the device against his forearm.

At first, there was nothing. Just the low hiss of dead air. Then—so faint he almost missed it—a ripple of something. A weak, inconsistent interference. It could have been background noise, the natural hum of the ship's metal and electronics. But something in his gut told him otherwise.

He adjusted the frequency, trying to isolate the anomaly, but it was too unstable. Whatever signal—if it even was a signal—was barely there, slipping in and out like whispers behind a wall.

A shiver crawled up his spine, thinking back to the grotesque skin of Dr. Conrad in his nightmares. He clenched his jaw and powered down the device, tucking it away. He wasn't going to let his own mind get the better of him. Not yet.

---

Later, walking back to the lab for another day of work, he nearly collided with another recruit rounding the corner. The other man took a half-step back, blinking in surprise. 

"Hey! I almost didn't see you there." The other man grinned, adjusting his grip on a stack of manuals. "Tom? You remember me, right?" Ensign Josh Chapman asked.

Tom hesitated. He had been feeling guilty ever since ignoring Josh during the tour.

"Yeah," he said, clearing his throat. "I remember."

Josh shrugged, still smiling. "I figured you had your reasons for keeping to yourself. No hard feelings."

The casual acceptance stung more than rejection would have. 

"Listen," Tom started, shifting awkwardly. "I've just had a lot on my plate. But—maybe we could grab a coffee sometime? Catch up?"

Josh's smile widened. "Yeah, man. I'd like that. Actually, I was supposed to check in on you anyway."

The words made Tom tense, and Josh must have noticed because he quickly added, "You know, since you've been, uh... adjusting. Thought maybe you could use a friend."

"Guess I haven't been the best company," Tom said carefully.

"Nah, don't worry about it. People handle things differently." Josh shifted the manuals in his arms, then hesitated. "You, uh... you been sleeping okay?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I dunno. Just... you looked kinda out of it last time I saw you. Like, distracted. I figured maybe you weren't getting much rest."

The nightmare flashed back into his mind for a second. "I'm fine."

Josh hesitated for a second before nodding. "Alright. Well, coffee sometime, yeah? Come by your quarters when I have free time?"

"Yeah," Tom said, watching as the Josh turned and walked away. 

They parted ways, but as Tom continued down the hall, doubts filled his internal monologue: "What did he mean 'supposed to check in'?". His fingers brushed against his pocket, where the disguised listener rested. "Am I being too bold in taking actions? Should I cut out these activities?"