Disclaimer: The Among Us universe belongs to InnerSloth LLC and PlayEveryWare. This is a work of fanfiction and is not intended for profit or copyright infringement. I do not own the rights to Among Us or its setting/universe.

I stand in front of the glass, staring out at the swirling vastness of space. The eyes of the universe stare back at me. I traveled a lot back on Earth as a medical student, but no natural or man-made structure has ever made me feel as small as I feel at this moment. My reflection is a slight, pale thing with long chestnut waves and thick slanted brows. She looks insignificant against the infinite backdrop of space and I'm reminded again just how fleeting life is.

There's movement to my left as someone's reflection joins mine at the observation deck window.

"It never gets old, does it?"

I turn to see stars dancing in a pair of orange horn-rimmed glasses. Dr. Barnett stands at eye-level with me but his presence is humbling. His brown eyes twinkle. "It's been two months, you know."

"Already?" I murmur. It feels like two weeks.

"Time is a funny thing. It has a mind of its own, especially in space." He regards me carefully over the top of his glasses. "I take it you've been enjoying yourself?"

I grin ruefully. "It's been the best experience of my life."

Dr. Anthony Barnett has been my hero for as long as I can remember. Known around the world for his medical prowess, he was a close friend of my grandfather's. The two of them were partners on the first research mission to Polus twenty years previously, which was infamous for its tragic ending. I was five years old at the time so the details were hushed up, but I got the gist. There was a terrible accident that killed most of the crew, including my grandfather, George Korbel. Dr. Barnett was one of the few crew members lucky enough to return to Earth with the news. The international space program heading the mission, known colloquially as MIRA, was held responsible for the loss. It attracted a lot of unwanted publicity and MIRA was forced to retire their best spacecraft, The Skeld. After that, they descended into crippling debt after being sued for billions of dollars.

The injustice of my grandfather's loss weighs heavily on me. He was so passionate about helping other people. I remember how eager he was to pave a new path forward for humanity. Since his death I've vowed to work hard to carry out his legacy and finish what he never could.

My opportunity came years later, after MIRA somehow managed to pick itself off the floor and claw back some of its damaged reputation. Just over a year ago they received permission to rebuild The Skeld, which had been dormant for over a decade, and launch a secondary research mission to the frigid and elusive planet of Polus. MIRA's entire future hinges on the safe return of all twelve of its crew members, which now includes myself.

After eight grueling years of medical school, this residency means more to me than anything. Working under Dr. Barnett, carrying out my grandfather's legacy, and finding proof that other planets sustain life - if this mission succeeds it will change everything.

"Lenna and Commander Warrick are waiting in Medbay," Dr. Barnett informs me, pulling me from my thoughts. "Are you ready?"

"Ready or not, we should never keep the commander waiting."

We leave the observation deck together. The round, cavernous glass-lined room doubles as our Cafeteria. The space is currently empty expect for two figures sitting at opposite sides of the room. The most notable is our health and nutrition expert, Kenzo, with his russet head and beard. His sunshine yellow space uniform stands out in the gloom of the ship, the cotton-blend sleeves straining against the swell of his upper arms and barrel chest. He hunches over his morning protein bowl and offers a curt nod as we pass.

Sitting near the door is a frail, elderly woman wearing forest green. Ebba is ancient and completely mute, but she is one of the most valuable additions to the team. She is MIRA University's top biologist and research expert and she and Dr. Barnett are the only veterans on the ship who were crew members on the Polus I mission. Upon passing her I see something green and leafy wriggling in her skinny arms. It makes a strange sort of chirruping noise as Ebba offers it a wheat thin. I share a quizzical look with Dr. Barnett.

"Another one of her Polusian specimens," he says in a low voice, chuckling. "Good to know there's hope for plant life, at least."

All interior doors on The Skeld are kept open at all times, apart from our private cabins and the Electrical room. Even so, Dr. Barnett stands aside and gestures for me to pass through the gaping maw of the Cafeteria door before him. I take the lead down the wide metal hallway toward Medbay with a clear view of the Upper Engine room at the far end. Judging by the loud clanking, thumping, and ceaseless stream of impressive curse words issuing from the room, I hazard a guess the engines are giving my brother grief again.

There's a deafening BANG, a loud hissing noise, and a colorful expletive as white smoke spills into the hallway. Hacking and coughing, a lanky figure in a lime green space uniform stumbles from the room, rubbing his eyes and muttering darkly. He collapses against the curved wall, breathing heavily. Grease and dirt smear his clothes. Soot blackens the creases in his tall forehead and long fingers. The state of his fingernails makes me want to faint. He wipes his sweaty face with the back of his sleeve, making everything worse. He sees me gaping and his dirty face cracks into a wide grin.

"Hey, Sage! How're things going?"

"Better than they are for you, it would seem." I approach him haltingly, not wanting to muddy my own red uniform. "Quill, what in the name of MIRA is going on in there?"

Despite the two years separating us, Quill and I look very similar. He has my wavy chestnut hair and green eyes, as well as a similar birthmark on his neck. While he's almost always covered in some sort of grime, I keep myself clean to the point of obsession. Clean means safe. Throwing zero caution to the wind, Quill strides over and pulls me into a bone-crunching hug.

"Urgh, you're filthy!"

"Er...sorry." He releases me, looking sheepish.

"Come on, Quill. I know you like getting your hands dirty but I work in medicine. The least you can do is wash your hands."

He rolls his eyes. "Yes, mother."

"You're lucky Mom's not here. She'd tell you to strip off your clothes and burn them."

He shrugs and wipes his hands on the grungy rag slung over his shoulder. "Whatever. I've got about twenty of these uniforms. Bit of a shame, honestly. Lime isn't really my color. Makes me look peaky."

Our space uniforms are standard-issue and made of a light cotton-linen blend that is practical yet breathable. Each person wears a unique color depending on our role. As head physician Dr. Barnett was originally going to wear red, but with his dark complexion and thick black beard MIRA decided orange would be more flattering. So they let me wear the red, which I'm rather fond of. I got lucky. The only good thing about the lurid lime green that Quill wears is the way it brings out his eyes.

"So what is going on in there?" I ask again, indicating the steam billowing out of the engine room.

"Coolant leakage," Quill growls. "Third time today and getting worse. Doesn't matter how many times I change it, the damn thing keeps overheating. I'm able to bring it back down for an hour or two before it acts up again. Damned machine might be beautiful, but she's ancient as hell."

"Sorry it's giving you trouble."

Quill grunts. "Nothing I can't handle. It's a much older model, so I'll likely have to replace a few parts that aren't on the market anymore. I'll have Zale put in a special order and do some damage control." He sighs heavily. "Anyway. How's the blood stuff going?"

It's customary for all crewmates to receive annual bloodwork and medical scans in an effort to maintain maximum health while on the job. All twelve of us received our initial tests a year previously and today we're scheduled to gather and send MIRA our updated bloodwork and med bios.

"We're just about to start. Lenna and Commander Warrick are first."

"Will it take long?"

"Depends on how long this conversation lasts."

"C'mon, Sage. I never see you anymore. You've been so busy playing doctor you haven't had a chance to visit me and my babies."

I snort. "What, the engines? I've seen them, Quill. They're loud, obnoxious hunks of gross metal."

Quill presses a hand to his heart, offended. "How dare you. Those 'obnoxious hunks of gross metal' happen to be keeping this ship afloat! The only reason we're on this mission is because of me and those two beauties!"

"Yeah, yeah. You're a real hero. Now get back to work - you know the commander doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Fine. Seriously, though, We should hang out sometime. I miss you."

With the promise of spending some quality sibling time together, Quill and I part ways and Dr. Barnett leads me to Medbay. The walls, floor, and ceiling are sterile and white, as are the crisp sheets pulled tight across the rolling beds and the thick curtains separating them. Two reclining chairs are set up at the far end of the room next to a round mediscan platform and holographic monitor. Sitting in the left chair is The Skeld's co-pilot, Lenna, who is my closest friend on the crew, apart from Quill. She's petite with sun-kissed brown skin, bouncy cinnamon curls, and round doe-like eyes. To her right sits a tall, thin man with severe features, an icy gaze, and a sharp black widow's peak. It's common knowledge that Commander Warrick never smiles. In fact, in the two months I've known him, I've decided he's the most unpleasant person I've ever had the misfortune of knowing.

Lenna gazes wordlessly at the spotless environment, chewing her bottom lip. The moment she sees me she wilts with relief. Thank MIRA you're back! Her expression screams. The silence has been TORTURE!

I bit back a smile. It's difficult for Lenna to reign in her chatterbox in the stoic presence of the commander.

"Let's get this over with, Doctor," Warrick drones in his no-nonsense tone. The sleeve of his white uniform is already rolled up to the elbow. "Professor O'Connell and I are up to our necks in paperwork and our understaffed crew is barely managing to keep up with the curveballs this rusty tin can keeps throwing at us."

Ain't that the truth, I agree inwardly, thinking of Quill and his engines.

"Well, with a vessel as old as The Skeld, you're bound to have issues here and there," Dr. Barnett says pleasantly as he scrubs his hands in the ceramic basin mounted on the wall. I follow suit, snapping on a pair of latex gloves before setting onto a flimsy rolling stool next to Lenna. All of the bloodwork tubes and butterfly needles lie nestled in their Styrofoam packaging before me. "Nothing our impressive young engineer can't handle, I'm sure."

"Quill loves fixing things," I confirm offhandedly as I fasten a rubber tourniquet on Lenna's arm and probe around for a suitable vein. "As kids he would spend hours locked in his room, taking electronics apart and putting them together again."

"It's not just electrical and engine issues, though," Lenna pipes up anxiously. "Ebba says there's been temperature regulation issues in Oxygen, not to mention the trouble we've been having with steering. The control jets are super sensitive. The tiniest touch sends the thrusters haywire! Zale is losing is mind. Don't tell him I said this, but it's actually kind of entertaining to watch..."

"That explains the turbulence we've been having this week." I have to swallow my laughter at the image of Lieutenant Zale ripping out chunks of his flawless hair in frustration. I rub an alcohol wipe across the injection site on Lenna's arm and add, "And I'm not talking about the spaceship."

The subject of our lieutenant's mood swings greatly amuses me and Lenna. We giggle. Quietly. We've learned the hard way that too much laughter sets Commander Warrick off.

"Regardless, I say it all comes down to the ship itself," Warrick grumbles, wincing slightly as Dr. Barnett eases the needle into his vein. "When the appraisal team told us The Skeld was old, I didn't realize they meant prehistoric." His already sparse lips purse into an impossibly thin line. "I still think they should have given us permission to fly The Sward. Far newer and more reliable."

"I dunno. The Skeld has a certain charm to it." Lenna watches her blood trickle into the tube in my hand. "The ship may be old but she's starting to grow on me. Just like that mole on Zale's upper lip."

"Lieutenant Zale, Lenna," I remind her, fighting to keep a straight face. "And I believe the correct term is beauty mark."

Lenna giggles again. I struggle to keep my hands still as I bit back my laughter and switch out the blood tube. Commander Warrick throws us a long-suffering glare.

"Really, ladies. I know our young pilot is a bit on the, erm...eccentric side. But I don't appreciate you abusing a member of our crew behind his back. It's unsportsmanlike and immature."

The smiles melt off our faces faster than butter in a hot skillet.

After labeling and storing Lenna's blood samples, I lead her to the mediscan platform. The scan itself takes a minute per patient. The long part involves sorting through and comparing the patient's information with the existing logs to make sure it's all still correct. If anything changes within the year I have to enter the log system and manually input the data.

Name: Lenna Parr

Height: 5' 3"

Weight: 135 lbs.

Blood Type: O-

Vaccinations: Up to date

Allergies: Pine nuts, Peanuts

Medications: Epinephrine (as needed)

Surgeries: None

Healthy and happy. Unless she accidentally eats something cooked in peanut oil, Lenna has little to worry about.

"Hey, Sage?" Lenna speaks barely above a whisper so only I can hear.

"Yes?"

"Hey, um...I know I'm not technically supposed to give false information, but...could you add black tea to my list of allergies?"

I pause, my fingers hovering over the holographic surface of the log screen. The corner of my mouth twitches. "Lenna. You know you don't have to drink Kenzo's homemade kombucha, right?"

A polite blush creeps onto her round cheeks. "I know. It's just...he's so proud of it! And he looks so sad when no one wants to drink it."

"Trust me, Lenna. If you're worried about hurting Kenzo's feelings, it'll be a lot nicer to tell him the truth instead of pretending to enjoy his weird healthy foods. I'm sure he'll understand."

Lenna doesn't seem convinced but she drops the issue.

"What you do have to drink, however, is two Gatorades before dinnertime to stay hydrated. Doctor's orders." I peel off my gloves and reach into the mini fridge by the ceramic basin. "Blue or red?"

"Blue please."

"Take it easy and monitor yourself. If you feel yourself getting lightheaded at all, let me or Dr. Barnett know."

Commander Warrick disappears so fast after his mediscan it's like he passed through the wall. Lenna sticks around and sips on her Gatorade while I sanitize all surfaces for the next patients.

"So anyway, I was talking with Professor O'Connell the other day and he told me we're scheduled to arrive at Polus in two months!" Lenna chatters happily. "Can you believe it? I can't wait. I heard it's beautiful!"

"I heard it's cold. But the terrain is supposed to be mountainous, so I'll bet the views are gorgeous. Too bad the holidays will be over by the time we land. It would be awesome to celebrate Christmas there."

"Sure, but that just means we'll get to celebrate together on the ship! Speaking of celebrations, tomorrow is Halloween. You're coming to the party, right?"

"Party?"

"Yeah, the Halloween party Del and Osiris are throwing! Don't tell anyone I told you - I swore to Osiris I'd keep it a secret - but I caught them watching World War Z while they were supposed to be on security detail. Apparently Osiris uploaded a whole cache of movies onto the ship's mainframe right before we left, in case he ever gets bored. According to Del he gets bored a lot. Buuuut, since it's technically a holiday tomorrow, we convinced Warrick to let us have a break. And by 'we' I actually mean Del, since he's the only one Warrick actually likes. So...whaddya think? You in?"

"Erm...I dunno. Are we dressing up?"

"I have no idea. The next time I see Del or Osiris I'll ask."

"Okay. Sure. Sounds...fun."

Lenna is thrilled. She rambles on about the party and her work in Navigation with Zale a bit more until Dr. Barnett shoos her from the room.

"Visit me sometime in Nav, Sage! I promise it doesn't have to be when Zale is there." With a cheery wave she disappears.

"Not the party type?" Dr. Barnett's eyes twinkle.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I don't mean anything by it. Just observing."

He's good at that. Observing. He opens the supply cupboard and frowns. "What happened to that extra gauze we brought?"

"If it's not there it's probably still in Storage. I can run and grab it if you like."

"Would you, please? While you're at it we're also out of saline and antibiotic ointment."

"What, already?"

"Indeed. Quite a few incidents in only two months. Don't you remember?"

I do. At first, I hadn't expected to be of much use in my residency aboard The Skeld. But the number of accidents that cropped up since our departure in early September was incredible. Apparently, a rag-tag team in an old spaceship in the middle of the galaxy is the perfect recipe for injuries. At least half the crew has needed stitches in various places, including Quill, who sliced his finger open on a rusty hatch while working on one of his "babies." The most dramatic injury by far occurred less than a week into our voyage. Osiris and Minka got into an intense argument over one of Minka's weapons and whether or not it was "necessary" or "safe." The argument escalated to a full-on brawl after Osiris confiscated and destroyed the weapon, which turned out to be a flamethrower. Minka retaliated by stabbing him in the thigh with her pocket knife and Osiris punched her in the face, dislocating her jaw. After Del and Commander Warrick managed to pull them off each other, Osiris, who was acting out of self defense, was cleared. Minka was sentenced to cabin arrest for an entire month and just recently got out. Still, she's kept on a short leash by Del, who also happens to be her probation officer. Small world.

Then there was Kenzo. Far less complicated than Minka and Osiris and ten times more lovable, the over-zealous health nut had pushed himself too hard during one of his morning Pilates workouts and passed out from over-exertion. Dr. Barnett hooked him up to a saline drip, reprimanding him firmly for not taking his own advice and drinking plenty of water. Long story short, we've been very busy in Medbay.

"I'll take the med cart," I decide, blinking away the memories. "Might as well grab a few more boxes of bandages and syringes, too."

The med cart in question is loud and temperamental, always veering slightly to the left unless bullied into submission. I take the fastest route to Storage: back through the Cafeteria and down the Administration hallway. Like the rest of the doors on the ship, the one to the Admin office is always open. I've never been one to eavesdrop, but bits and pieces of the conversations between Commander Warrick and our mission specialist, Professor O'Connell, can often be heard upon passing Admin. At the moment, the room is deserted. Warrick must be in the middle of his afternoon rounds. If O'Connell isn't in Admin, he's likely in Communications sending the weekly report back to MIRA Headquarters.

The cart and I rumble to a halt in the open doorway of the Storage room. Despite Quill promising to take a look at them, the lights in Storage have been dead since liftoff. The space is completely windowless and impossibly dark, lit only by the emergency lights lining the floor. The effect is creepy. Boxes, crates, and shelves clutter the floor and walls in huddled shadowy masses. A mountain of extra supplies looms haphazardly in the center of the room, nearly reaching the ceiling. While chaotic, the mess retains some semblance of organization. We store medical supplies in a safe on the far side of the room, next to the trash chute. Somehow, the darkness is stronger over there. I can barely see my fingers as I enter the code onto the safe's holographic keypad. As quickly as I can, I stack the cart with gauze, saline, bandages, syringes, and a few rolls of medical tape and slam the safe shut.

I don't like to linger in the dark. I know it's ridiculous but it always feels like someone's watching me. I turn around, ready to split, when I see the figure standing in the doorway.

My heart nearly explodes from my chest. I barely manage to suppress a startled scream as my overactive imagination registers the tall, slightly hunched form of Minka's probation officer, Del.

"Mother of MIRA, Del, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" I suck oxygen into my lungs, feeling flustered and foolish. I squint at him. Wait...is it Del? Or Osiris? It's hard to tell them apart in the dark, but...no. The light coming from the hallway backlights his uniform, which is dark blue, not black. Definitely Del.

"I didn't mean to scare you." The baritone of his voice soothes me. Something about him makes me feel safe, and not just because he's ex-military. "The cameras outside Security are blinking on and off again. Osiris sent me to get batteries."

"More camera issues?" Maybe Warrick is right. Maybe The Skeld is too old to be trusted. We'll never make it to Polus at this rate, a nasty, unbidden voice whispers in the back of my mind. We'll be stranded in empty space forever...

"Yep." Del's voice rescues me from my spiraling thoughts. "The wiring connecting our screens to the cameras is corroded. The only functional camera is outside Admin, but it drains the battery every time we replace it."

I ease the med cart around the mountain of supplies in the middle of the room but the added weight affects my steering. The corner of the cart clips the edge of a box jutting from the bottom of the pile, causing the boxes above it to wobble dangerously. I barely have time to mutter a soft curse before they start to fall.

I brace myself, ready for the crash that will alert the entire ship of my failure. When nothing happens I open my eyes, shocked to see Del standing in front of me, bracing himself against the boxes as he steadily eases them back into place.

I blink. "How...how did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"I - nevermind. Thanks."

"Sure thing." Del grips the handle of the med cart and pushes it away from the boxes. "Let me help. I'm due in Medbay anyway. Mind if we take the long way back? Osiris needs these." He rattles the battery box.

We walk out of Storage in silence, down the long hallway toward the Lower Engine. I carry the box of batteries while Del makes steering the cart look effortless. He's in clear focus under the fluorescent lights and I study him out of the corner of my eye. He's tall and in good shape. The sides and back of his hair are regulation short but he's allowed the top to grow out in dark waves that fall into his eyes. One eye is pale blue. The other is pitch black. Handsome. I blush as the word rushes into my mind. Intimidating. Quiet. I doubt his stoic personality has anything to do with his background, though. Osiris is the most outspoken person I know (apart from Lenna) and he trained alongside Del in the same unit. I consider asking him why he accepted a position on the Polus II mission, but we're approaching the Lower Engine room and the rumbling and humming noises prevent me.

The engine room is cramped, loud, and full of hot air. Most of the space is taken up by the engine itself: a huge, rusty metal egg that rumbles and vibrates and sets the floor to shaking. There's no need for shoes in space, so most of the crew wear socks or walk around barefoot, but the engine room floor is littered with tools, scraps of metal, and stray wires stripped down to the copper. I'm wearing my special no-slip socks with rubber soles and I carefully pick my way across the floor behind Del, who is barefoot.

Osiris waits for us at the entrance to Security. He's tall and muscular like Del but dark-skinned and bearded with close-cropped curls and shaved sideburns. He's also barefoot and the cuffs of his black uniform are rolled up to show off the tattoos spiraling up his arms and neck. With his square jaw and crooked smile, Osiris is easily the most attractive crewmate on board - apart, perhaps, from Lieutenant Zale, who ranks lower on the popularity scale due to his inflated ego and tendency to flirt openly with all women on board (including Ebba, who has to be at least three times his age).

"Look, I know you're strong and all, Del, but I asked you to get batteries," Osiris drawls, eyeing the loaded med cart. "Not the entire Medbay."

"This belongs to Sage."

Osiris gives me an appraising look that makes me blush again. "Oh. Right. The nurse. Aren't you and Barnett doing mediscans right now?" He checks his watch, as if it holds the answer. "I could have sworn Warrick said they started at ten. Unless this thing is broken?" He taps the watch face, frowning.

"Your watch is working fine." I swallow the urge to point out that my official title is in-flight surgeon, not nurse. Why is he acting like he forgot who I am? After all, I'm the one who stitched his thigh after Minka shanked him. "We're in the middle of our scans and ran out of a few things. Here -" I toss him the box of batteries.

"Thanks." He shakes the box, which rattles pitifully. "Is this it?"

"Afraid so," Del replies. "We'll have to ask Quill for advice if this doesn't work. Or go without security cameras."

"That's not an option. Shit. I swear, this floating hunk of metal is going to be the death of us all." He pounds firmly on the wall. A small rectangular panel pops open at his touch, barfing out a tangle of multi-colored wires. "Dammit! Not again. Any chance you saw some duct tape in Storage?" He fumbles with the mess of wires, unceremoniously shoving them back in with one hand while he clutches the batteries with the other.

"Not likely. I can barely see anything in that room. Wait - hang on!" I grab his wrist to stop him and tilt my head curiously at the panel. "Del, I thought you said the wires were corroded."

"They are."

"Then why are they like that?"

"Like what?"

"Broken. Like they've been cut or something. Look - see?" I carefully hold up one of the thin green cables. "Don't get me wrong, I'm no electrician. But you can't grow up with Quill and not know a thing or two about wires. They usually corrode as a result of overuse or an overflow of energy. But see how clean this break is?"

"Maybe a rodent chewed through it?" Osiris suggests.

"Maybe. But bite marks are usually less precise than this. This is far too clean."

"So what? You think this was deliberate?" It's clear Osiris thinks I'm crazy, but I don't care. "Why would anyone do that?"

We lapse into a thoughtful silence. There's no logical reason for anyone to cut the wires on a spaceship that already suffers from neglect and age. I can't think of a single person on board who would stand to gain anything by destroying the cameras, let alone anyone from MIRA or the appraisal team that inspected the vessel before takeoff. This must have happened years ago and was simply overlooked during the inspection.

"I'll ask Quill to check it out when he gets the chance. It likely explains why the cameras aren't working - not dead batteries. Until then, I better get back to Medbay." I shove the tangled ball of wire back into the wall and snap the metal panel shut. "Nice to see you, Osiris. Best of luck."

Osiris grumbles something under his breath. "And what about you?" He turns to Del. "Going with her?"

"Yeah, I'm scheduled. I'll be back in time for my rounds."

"Dinner duty tonight?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. See you later."

Osiris departs south while Del and I head north. We find Quill in the Upper Engine room, his legs sticking out from an open utility hatch in the side of the engine. The room is no longer full of smoke, but the muffled muttering and tapping issuing from the hatch suggests the issue is far from resolved.

"I'll talk to him later," I whisper to Del. "Looks like he's in the middle of something."

Del nods and we move on. Before entering Medbay I remember there's something I need to ask him. "So Lenna told me about this Halloween party you and Osiris are throwing. Will people be dressing up?"

He shrugs. "You can if you want. You coming, then?"

"Yeah, I think so. It'll be good for me to spend more casual time with people."

Del gives me a rare but genuine smile. "Cool."

I want to ask him what he has planned for the party, but before I can a silvery voice calls out, "Well, well, well! If it isn't the one and only Sage, here to grace us with her beautiful presence! So lovely to see you again, sunshine."

Oh great. Here we go again...

I force a smile. "Oh. Hello, Zale." I try not to make eye-contact with him as I lead Del to the supply cupboard. He follows me with the cart, also ignoring Zale, who strides after us, determined to be seen.

"Now, now, Sage," Zale tuts, winking cheekily at me. "It's Lieutenant Zale to you. Not to split hairs, of course, but rank is rank."

I am a professional. I am a professional. I am a professional...

I turn to face the pilot, forcing myself to take a deep, cleansing breath. Del busies himself with restocking the cupboard with Dr. Barnett meticulously sanitizes the already clean medical equipment.

My job is about to get a lot harder.

"My apologies...Lieutenant," I bite out. "Is there something I can do for you? Del is here for his mediscan, which I should really get started on."

"Of course, of course. No problem at all." Zale steps in front of me, leaning against the supply cupboard in a way that traps me beneath his arm. He and Del continue to ignore each other. Zale places his hand on his hip and cocks his head at me. "I just haven't seen you much this past week. You haven't been avoiding me, have you, sunshine?"

I can do this. I am a professional. Just look him in the eye and tell him you're busy...

But looking Lieutenant Zale in the eye is like staring into the sun. His cyan blue uniform makes my eyes water. He has so many brilliant white teeth I'm sure I'll go blind. His bronzed skin and golden waves are the textbook definition of handsome, but I'm feeling nothing but annoyed.

"My name is Sage, Lieutenant," I say shortly, trying and failing to slip around him. "And no, of course I haven't been avoiding you. I've been very busy, just like you. Lots of patients to take care of and...stuff."

"Yes, I know. Dr. Barnett told me all about your residency and how hard you've worked to get here. And your grandfather? Sounds like an incredible man. I must say, you are quite the woman, Sage. I'd love to hear more about your accomplishments over dinner sometime. Maybe I'll even have time to regale you with the epic tale of my years at the air force academy. What do you say?"

I am a professional. I am a professional. I am a professional...

I take a deep, pained breath. "Look, Za - er...Lieutenant. I appreciate the offer but I've told you before - I'm not looking to date right now. This mission is very important to me and I want to stay focused."

Zale isn't deterred in the slightest.

"I absolutely understand. I admire a woman who is so devoted to her work. That's why I feel you're the best person to help with a rather...personal problem of mine."

I glance helplessly at Dr. Barnett, who polishes the same pair of medical scissors over and over again. Del crosses his arms and stands very close to Zale, which bolsters my courage slightly. I face the lieutenant again, folding my hands politely in front of me. "You have a, um...heath-related problem?"

"Indeed. It's been bothering me for a few days now and I'm afraid it's not getting any better. At first I thought my skin was just dry, but...does this look infected to you?" He grabs the hem of his uniform's shirt and lifts it up to his armpits, exposing his sculpted torso. A reddish patch of itchy-looking skin stretches from his left pectoral to his navel, where it disappears under his waistband.

I blink, trying not to stare. "Erm...no. It doesn't look infected, but if you want to step behind a curtain, Dr. Barnett can -"

"It doesn't hurt much but it's unbearably itchy," Zale interrupts. "It's taken all of my willpower not to scratch it."

"I know it's hard but keep resisting if you can. It looks like a rash - possibly from something you ate, or not washing the area regularly. Have you spoken with Dr. Barnett?"

"I should say, it's not just my chest," Zale says, ignoring the question completely. "I'm not sure how rashes spread but it's on the back of my legs, too. Look -" Before anyone can stop him he hooks his thumb into the elastic waistband of his pants and tugs, letting the light fabric fall to his ankles.

Mother of MIRA! I am a professional, but please god PUT IT AWAY!

This time I really am staring. Del steps forward to block the unholy sight as I turn away, blushing furiously. "Zale, please!" Heat rushes into my face like a steaming kettle. "If you need to take your clothes off we have privacy screens for that! You can't just strip down in the middle of the room!"

"I know, I'm sorry. You're right." Zale bends to pull his pants up. "I'm sorry about not wearing underwear, but I find tight clothing makes it quite painful to move. I've been suffering for a while now and I have no idea what's happening."

"Sage is right - it looks like a rash." Too late, Dr. Barnett comes to my rescue. He stands placidly on Zale's other side while Del continues his role as a human shield. "If it's itchy but not painful and there are no signs of an infection, try hydrocortisone cream or calamine lotion. We have both. In the future, if you are having any male-related issues, please come to me instead of cornering my young female protegee. We may be on a spaceship but this is still a professional healthcare space."

Zale bows politely, completely unabashed. This man has zero shame. "Yes, of course. My apologies, Sage. You have both been very helpful. Terribly sorry to bother you in the middle of your workday."

"No harm done," Dr. Barnett says kindly. "Now let's get you some lotion and send you on your way. I'm sure Lenna is in need of your assistance in Navigation."

"Don't be a stranger, sunshine." Zale winks at me and allows himself to be corralled from the room. I'm so flustered I didn't notice that two people entered Medbay during our conversation.

"Can someone please explain to me why in the hell I just saw Zale's bare arse?" Kenzo growls in his heavy Scottish accent. Professor O'Connell stands next to him, polishing his square spectacles on the hem of his purple uniform, looking mildly amused. I swear under my breath and turn to them, conjuring the most professional smile I can.

"My apologies, gentlemen. Our beloved lieutenant appears to be struggling with a fairly irritating rash. Please excuse his rudeness."

Dr. Barnett sets Kenzo up for his mediscan while Professor O'Connell settles himself onto a bed, waiting patiently for me to finish with Del.

"I must say, Sage, you look as though you've never seen a naked man before." The tone in Dr. Barnett's voice is casual but I can tell he's making fun of me. My fingers itch to throw a roll of medical tape at him.

"For your information, all the naked men I've seen have been in professional medical settings," I reply with the little dignity I have left. "Or they're dead. And I hardly think Zale dropping his trousers to show me his rash can be considered professional."

The room explodes with laughter. Kenzo pounds his knee with his fist and Professor O'Connell chuckles lightly. My hands shake so much I accidentally poke Del in the wrong spot. "Dammit. Sorry, Del." Honestly, sometimes it feels like I'm the only adult on this ship.

"We're just giving you a hard time," Dr. Barnett says apologetically. "In reality, you handled the situation very well. Zale can be a handful."

"Well, let's just be grateful he didn't ask me to touch it."

They erupt with laughter again and this time I join in. I feel Del's eyes on me and look up at him. "Besides, what could possibly be worse than having the image of Zale's male bits burned into my brain forever?"