63. Lost in Space

One stared at the ceiling, feeling wretched. He was humiliated. He was hurt.

He was worthless.

Two hadn't recognized him. Despite their physical intimacy, she didn't know him, didn't trust him. He was just another stranger on the street.

If that was the case, there was no point in staying on this ship.

He couldn't cut it as a businessman. Couldn't cut it on the farm. Couldn't cut it here.

The whole galaxy was corrupt, virtually every person he'd met was bad. Including himself.

He'd leave, if there was anywhere to go. Maybe he'd leave anyway. Go anywhere but here.

64. Fear

Two knocked on One's door. When he didn't respond, she overrode the lock and walked in. He lie in bed, flat on his back. He didn't move when she entered.

"We had an assignment meeting for the mission. Where the hell were you?"

One didn't acknowledge her.

"I'm talking to you." In a flash of panic, Two stepped closer, to make sure he was being insolent and wasn't dead or injured.

He sat up abruptly. Two's relief felt more like anger.

"I didn't go to your meeting because you made it pretty clear I'm not a part of this crew."

65. Hurt

"I made sure you weren't a threat. If your feelings got hurt in the process, too bad. You knew what it was like. You shouldn't have come back if you can't handle it."

"I shouldn't have come back? I should have let Five find her way on her own? Because you know she would have. I can't explain it, but she actually seems to like you. All of you.

"I shouldn't have warned you about the beacon? You can't get your act together to not alert the galaxy to your location, and I'm the idiot for trying to help you?"

66. More Hurt

"You're right. I am an idiot for coming back. I'm an idiot for thinking there might be an ounce of humanity in that manufactured brain of yours."

"I know you think you're special, with all your existential angst. But we're all feeling it. We've all been struggling with our identities since we came out of stasis. I'm sorry if you were disappointed your rich boy life wasn't all you hoped it would be. The rest of us are dealing with it, and I suggest you do too. If you can't get with the program, get the hell off this ship."

67. Comfort

Five tapped on One's door. "It's me."

To her mild surprise, he let her in.

She immediately put her arms around him. "You can't leave."

"I can't stay."

"Because of Two? Whatever she said, she didn't mean it. She misses you. It's hard to tell because she's Two. But I know she does."

"What exactly does she miss? Her punching bag? Or her bed warmer?"

"The crew needs you. More than they'll ever say. Maybe more than they'll ever know. You and me, we have to keep them on the right path.

"Please. I'm afraid I can't do it alone."

68. Confusion (aka An Artless Explanation)

"I'm confused about one thing."

"Only one?"

"If Jace Corso shot a clone, how come nobody knows? Clones disintegrate—don't you think anyone has asked why they don't have a body?"

"CoreLactic Industries took charge of the investigation. They probably know he's not dead, but they don't really care. They just want him out of the picture. They sent him a message. If he comes back, they'll try again."

"And Jace Corso just left the job unfinished?"

"It takes clones a couple minutes to disintegrate. Jace Corso may not have stuck around that long. Especially if he'd already been paid."

69. Moving Forward

The room got quiet when One entered the mess. He avoided all eye contact as he dropped into an empty chair.

Just as the silence was getting heavy, Four threw a roll, hitting One square in the forehead. It bounced off, landing on the table in front of him.

One looked up.

Four nodded at him. "You came here to eat, didn't you?"

One picked up the roll and took a bite.

"You're with me on the next mission." Three slapped One on the shoulder. "Turns out, I kinda like having you at my back."

One looked skeptically at Three.

70. Starting Over

Three continued, "These other fools think they know how to fight. Tend to get in my way."

Nyx scoffed. Four grunted. Five laughed. Soon the mess was once again filled with noise.

Two entered and made herself a plate of food. One watched her as she moved across the room, and his eyes were still on her as she claimed the seat at the head of the table farthest from him. She looked up as she sat; for an instant, their eyes met across the ruckus.

The brief eye contact wasn't forgiveness, or understanding. But maybe it was a start.