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.

Even professionals can't mask their emotions. Dr. Barnett comes to fetch me from my cabin several hours later, and it looks like he's been through hell and back. His thick graying hair is disheveled and his horn-rimmed glasses sit crookedly on his nose. Dark bags line his eyes, which hold none of their usual light. I notice his hands are red and raw from being scrubbed, yet unmistakable traces of dried blood remain on his knuckles and under his nails.

"Sage, please allow me to be frank with you," he begins anxiously. "I know you are just starting your residency, and I know you did not expect to deal with something so tragic, but it is clear that you have courage and talent. For one so young it must be difficult to navigate the medical world at a time like this. Understand that I consider you my equal. As such, you deserve to help in any way you can."

"Sir, I'm...flattered," I mutter, feeling a polite blush color my cheeks. "But I don't understand what you're saying."

"I am offering you a chance to view the body and deduce what you can from it," he summarizes. "The only thing we can do for the commander now is to get to the bottom of this mystery and to honor his memory with a proper sendoff."

Nothing left but a pair of legs and a mangled spinal column.

I swallow tightly. Osiris's words ring hauntingly in my mind as I imagine what I might see. I once helped treat a hiker who was mauled by a mountain lion. His face and entire left side had been slashes beyond recognition. He didn't make it. Even if he had, there was no way he would ever have been able to use that side of his body again. It was the worst injury I have ever seen. Surely - surely - nothing could be worse than that.

"I must warn you, it is deeply disturbing," Dr. Barnett says, as though reading my mind. "Again, I respect you as a professional and an equal. I would not offer if I thought otherwise. But I also know you have been through quite the ordeal already. A sigh such as this could scar you forever."

"I'll help," I hear myself say. "Of course I'll help. That's what I'm here for, isn't it? To help people. It's like you said - the best we can do for Warrick is to honor his memory."

Dr. Barnett adjusts his glasses. "Very well. Allow me to lead the way. Oh, and one more thing - you may want to bring a fresh pair of clothes. We cleaned him up the best we could, but...well, you'll see."

Bright yellow caution tape stretches across the Medbay door, which is closed for the first time since takeoff. Before entering we step into plain white scrubs and don medical masks and hairnets. It feels like I'm about to perform surgery. Dr. Barnett enters a code on the keypad next to the door and it slides open with a pneumatic hiss. We enter and the door clunks shut behind us.

It's the smell that hits me first. Not the putrid stench of blood but the sharp sting of chemicals and bleach. They must have scrubbed the entire place after transporting the body from Electrical to Medbay. Professor O'Connell is already there, standing beside a rolling examination table, upon which a white sheet covers the body. Dark red patches seep through the sheet in several places.

"Thank you for coming, Sage," O'Connell greets me as we approach the table. "I know this must be difficult for you. It goes without saying that the conversations that take place here do not leave this room until I grant permission. Understood?"

"Yes sir." I force myself to look at him and not at the bloody sheet beneath my nose. It's just a pair of legs under there. Am I really prepared for this?

For a fleeting moment I try to convince myself that Osiris exaggerated. With the entire body intact, it would be a lot easier to believe it was some tragic accident, not the work of a monster. But when Dr. Barnett pulls the sheet back, I know instantly that there's no way a human could have done this.

I take a step back out of instinct. Foolishly, I thought death would be easier to handle if I didn't have to see the face. But this? If it weren't for the feet I wouldn't have known it was human. It reminds me of a raw slab of meat one might find at an open-air market.

"As you can see, this was no ordinary death," O'Connell says unnecessarily. "We are in the process of questioning everyone on the ship and Minka has assured us that none of the weapons in her arsenal can rip through flesh and bone like this. Unless the culprit had inhumane strength, which..." he sniffs dismissively. "Dr. Barnett and I did what we could to stop the bleeding and inspect the remains. Take a look, Sage. What do you think?"

I force my feet to move closer to the table. Even with the blood drained it's the most horrible thing I've ever seen. The formaldehyde barely masks the hot, sickly stench rising from the corpse and I have to cover my nose as I lean over the table. I can't imagine what Quill saw when the death was fresh.

"Well...the organs have been removed. The ribs and spinal column are beyond repair..."

"Yes. The vital organs were either missing or destroyed so we decided to remove them to preserve and return to MIRA," Dr. Barnett says. "The gall bladder and one of the kidneys are still healthy."

"So there's no sign of...the other half?" I venture cautiously.

Dr. Barnett shakes his head. "We searched but couldn't find anything. Our reconnaissance team is still on the lookout, but it appears this is all we have to work with."

What would a killer want with half a body? Unless...

"What are you thinking, Sage?"

"I'm thinking we're in the middle of space," I begin slowly, choosing my words carefully. "There's no way to get rid of something, except to send it out the airlock. If this was a workplace accident, we'd have the rest of him, even if it was crushed. This leaves me to believe his death was intentional. Whoever - or whatever - killed him must have somehow...disposed of the rest of the body."

"You suspect foul play," Dr. Barnett says. He doesn't appear to agree or disagree.

"What do you think, sir?"

"Me? I agree with Minka. No weapon or machine in our possession could do such a thing. Notice the pattern here on the skin -" He points along the edge where the legs departed from the body. "If this was the work of a weapon, the torn flesh would be irregular. Messy. Once we cleaned it up a bit, it was easier to see how precise the marks were - like something biting into a hamburger."

The comparison makes my insides churn. I may not have been on the best of terms with Commander Warrick, but the man hardly deserved to be compared to food. It's just so difficult to see anything else.

"The marks definitely suggest teeth," O'Connell agrees. "What are your thoughts, Sage?"

That's a lot of teeth...

"I don't know what to think," I admit. "All I know is that there's no way this was an accident. It could have been a weapon, but that just means someone among us is a superhuman killer. On the other hand, pursuing the teeth theory is basically the same as admitting that a man-eating monster is lurking in the shadows."

Dr. Barnett clicks his tongue sadly. "Neither are very happy options, are they?"

"I'll make sure our scouts check the airlock and trash chute," O'Connell says. "If there are no signs of the upper half anywhere we have to assume it was eaten."

"Unless the killer cleaned up after themselves," I point out.

"They wouldn't have had time," Dr. Barnett says. "You should have seen the mess we made trying to wheel the body up from Electrical. It was fresh when Quill found it, which means the commander died moments before they arrived. Osiris said they didn't hear or see anyone else in the area."

So not only is this monster bloodthirsty, it's also undetectable.

"What not?" I ask, voicing the question that has been nagging me for a while. "Clearly we're no longer safe. Our commander is dead - most likely eaten - and we have no leads except..."

...The extraterrestrial.

"Except?" O'Connell prompts.

"Except...nothing. Sorry, I...I didn't mean...I was wrong. We have no leads."

There is no way - no way - I'm about to bring up aliens when a real man lies dead before me. No matter how gruesome the death may be, I'm going to approach this from a scientific standpoint with bare-bones facts.

There's a knock on the door. Dr. Barnett covers the body while Professor O'Connell answers it.

"Zale! Thank goodness. Did you reach MIRA?"

"I'm sorry, sir." Zale's voice has lost its silvery sheen. It now sounds hollow and full of despair. "I've tried everything I can think of: re-calibrating the system, rerouting the signal's path, and unplugging and plugging the radio back in. I even used the emergency line to the space station closest to us. No matter what I do, it says the signal has been interrupted. I'm getting nothing but errors."

"Sometimes signals are interrupted by distance or space debris," he offers.

"Yes, but Sage was able to contact MIRA yesterday with our mediscan information," Zale said exasperatedly. "Distance shouldn't be an issue. I checked with Lenna and there are no asteroids large enough in our vicinity to block a signal."

"I see. We'll just have to keep trying and hope for the best. Good work, Lieutenant. Go ahead and call it a night. We'll check in with you later."

"Yessir."

Zale's footsteps retreat and Professor O'Connell pulls his had back into the room. "Sage, before we dismiss you, I'd like to hear your side of the story. We've already spoken with Del. He told us you two were together during the power outage."

"That's right. I left the party early - about one in the morning. I was in Upper Engine when the lights went out. I couldn't see anything so I stayed still and waited. Del showed up a few minutes later with a flashlight. We walked to the cabins together. We stopped to talk outside mine when the lights came back on. Then you called the emergency meeting and we left for the cafeteria. That's all."

Dr. Barnett nods. "Del's story was essentially the same. Professor O'Connell and I are going to run a few blood tests on Commander Warrick before turning in. You are free to go, if you don't wish to assist further."

I really don't. I have so much on my mind it's impossible to focus on anything. I'm grateful for Dr. Barnett's willingness to release me. This sort of thing warrants a full-scale investigation, but since we have neither the people nor the equipment for more than a biopsy, all we can do is guess.

I consider visiting Quill on the way back to my cabin. Dr. Barnett and Professor O'Connell are taking testimonies from everyone. Have they managed to get anything from Quill? Will he be okay by morning? I certainly wouldn't be. The image of Warrick's remains has branded itself onto my brain, waiting for me every time I close my eyes.

I decide to wait to speak with Quill. What would I even say? Ask him how he's doing? That everything's going to be okay? Easy to say, when you don't know better.

I do know better. The presence of death and the ghost of our grandfather are here to remind us that it's not okay. That we're not okay

Not anymore.

I'm drifting in and out of consciousness when the tired voice of Professor O'Connell comes on over the intercom, waking me completely.

"Attention all crewmates: please report to the Cafeteria for a mandatory meeting. Again, all crewmates please report to the Cafeteria..."

I hear the chorus of cabin doors opening and closing, followed by the footsteps of my fellow crewmates as they walk by my door. I squint at the digital numbers on the ceiling and am shocked to find that it's already late in the afternoon.

I exchange my wrinkled uniform from the night before for a fresh one and step barefoot into the hallway where I almost run into a bedraggled Lenna.

"Sage! I'm glad you're awake. Did you get any sleep?"

She clearly spent most of the night crying. Her eyes are red and puffy and her cinnamon curls hang loose and limp around her tear-streaked face.

"I don't think anyone did." I scan the throng of brightly-colored uniforms heading to Cafeteria. We all walk with hunched shoulders and wear the same glum, tired expressions. No one speaks. "Have you seen Quill?" I ask, looking for his bright green uniform.

"Not yet." Lenna nibbles her thumbnail. "Should we go get him?"

"I'll check on him. You go ahead and let O'Connell know I'll be there in a bit."

"Okay. I'll save you a seat."

She falls in line with the rest of the group, disappearing into the Cafeteria behind Ebba.

I knock softly on the door to cabin 7 but there's no response. I didn't expect any. I knock again, louder this time. Still nothing. "Quill? It's Sage. If you can hear me, please open up. We're needed in Cafeteria." Silence. I try the handle. To my surprise, it opens easily.

I push it open the rest of the way, listening for signs of life. The light is on. I peer around the door to find Quill sitting on the edge of his bed, bracing his forearms against his knees and he stares at the floor. He looks just like the rest of us, if not worse: pale, disheveled, and exhausted. He lost his shirt and wears nothing but a pair of lime green pants.

"Hey. Can I come in?"

A single nod. I step inside and close the door behind me. I stand in front of him, wanting to reach out and comfort him but not knowing how. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"That depends." His voice is raspy. "Did they show you?"

I bite the inside of my cheek. "Yes. They showed me."

"In that case, there's nothing to talk about." He stands to his full height, which is only a couple inches taller than mine, and looks me in the eye. "I think the corpse speaks for itself."

"Quill, I -"

"We should head out," he interrupts coldly, pulling on a shirt and opening the cabin door. "Thanks for everything. Really. I just need to process this on my own."

"Oh...okay."

Quill and I have always been close, despite our differences, and his refusal to talk to me feels like a rejection. Warrick's death has clearly unhinged him. Part of me wants to be angry at him for brushing me off while another part of me understands. It would be an impossible conversation, anyway.

I follow him to Cafeteria, keeping my distance in case he needs space. Everyone gathers around the center table in groups of two: Zale and Lenna, Ebba and Kenzo, Minka and Dr. Barnett. Professor O'Connell stands at the front of the room, flanked by Del and Osiris. Heads turn as Quill and I slouch in and claim the last bench.

"I know you all have a million questions," O'Connell begins once we're settled. "The events of last night frustrated and confused us all, so I thank you for allowing us time to gather information. I called this meeting to give you the answers you've been looking for. Whatever questions you have, Dr. Barnett and I will answer them to the best of our ability." He looks at each of us in turn as he speaks. "So...what would you like to know?"

Four hands hit the air at once. O'Connell calls on Kenzo first.

"We want to know how he died," he says. "The fact that you haven't told us makes me think you're hiding something."

"It is not our intention to deceive you," O'Connell says seriously. "We kept the facts hidden because we didn't want to cause more panic. Commander Warrick was found after being ripped clean in half."

Gasps of disbelief. Blank stares of horror. Those previously unburdened by the truth now look as though O'Connell told them they had a week to live. What would I do if I knew my days were numbered? I find myself wondering.

"Which way?" Minka appears entirely unfazed. Everyone around her turns pale or looks like they're about to burst into tears. O'Connell scratches at his trim salt-and-pepper beard.

"I...beg your pardon?"

"Which way was he ripped in half?" Minka clarifies impatiently. "The long way, like a banana, or the short way, like a ham?"

Another meat reference. I try not to feel nauseous as angry voices erupt around me.

"Minka!"

"Are you serious?"

"Really, woman, show some respect! He's your commander!"

"He was my commander," Minka retorts icily. "And don't talk to me like I'm being disrespectful - it's a reasonable question!"

"Not that it makes any difference," O'Connell says slowly, "but all that's left of him is a pair of legs and the bottom half of his torso."

"Interesting," Minka says as Lenna dissolves into tears again. "So I'm assuming you suspect foul play?"

"That is our current position, yes," Dr. Barnett nods. "However -"

"Well, it wasn't me."

Dr. Barnett raises his eyebrows at her. "We never said it was."

"Maybe not, but you're all thinking it."

"Minka -" I frown at her. "Why on earth -?"

"Oh please," she sneers at me. "Don't pretend like you don't know, Little Red. Apart from you medical types, I'm the only one who knows how many ways you can kill someone. I specialize in weaponry and hate pretty much everyone and everything. Even though you're all too scared to admit it, you know I'm the most likely person here to murder someone, especially a hard-ass like Warrick."

Little Red? I open and close my mouth, trying and failing to produce sound. Everyone is stunned, except Osiris.

"There's no doubt you know how to hurt people," he admits. "And you probably enjoy doing it, too. But why would you say it wasn't you and then proceed to explain why it could only have been you?"

"Before you answer that, Minka," O'Connell interrupts, "We should clarify something. Commander Warrick wasn't just ripped in half. Based on the teeth marks we found, we can only assume he was bitten in half. No weapon or human could have done this."

"That was my next point...whatever," Minka shrugs. No one has a response to this. Ebba taps Kenzo on the shoulder and signs something rapidly to him.

"Er...beg pardon. But Ebba says she's confused," he announces, watching the old woman carefully. "She says 'If Minka didn't do it and no human or weapon could, then that leaves -'" He blanches and leans in close to Ebba, whispering, "Eb...are you sure you want to bring that up?"

She nods fervently, signing the same thing over and over, mouthing the word to Kenzo like a chant.

"She says that leaves...the extraterrestrial."

A cold fist grips my insides. She's brave enough to say what I can't. Zale, who has been miraculously silent the entire time, takes this opportunity to laugh.

"Aliens? Please. The ship was searched before boarding. Apart from those weird plants of yours, Ebba dear, no extraterrestrial life forms have been confirmed. Unless your droopy vines or tarantula traps have somehow gained the intelligence and capability to murder overnight, I doubt there's anything out there."

Ebba frowns and signs furiously at him.

"'It's not impossible,'" Kenzo translates. "'I was on this ship before. I've been to Polus. I'm a biologist. It's my job to know about the specimen we encounter. It's foolish to assume we are alone in the universe.'" He shrugs at Zale. "She's got a point, mate."

"Ebba, sweetheart. No disrespect. But I think we'd know if there was a monster alien on board."

"We must consider all options, no matter how impossible," O'Connell says as Ebba glares at Zale. "Space travel has advanced significantly over the last decade, to the point where it's getting easier to reach foreign planets. We must consider the possibility that there are other...beings out there trying to interfere."

"We searched every last corner of this ship." Del's deep voice cuts through the conversation. "If there's an alien on board, it's doing a good job hiding."

"Yeah. Or it's one of us."

Heads turn to Quill. He sits with his elbows on the table, fingers laced together. He doesn't meet anyone's eyes. "Think about it. Unless this thing is invisible, silent, and odorless, there's no place it can hide. Unless is using us. Mind control. Possession. That sort of thing."

"That...c-cant happen," Lenna hiccups nervously. "C-can it?"

"No way," Osiris says firmly. "Quill is just freaked out from the movie we watched."

"Think what you want," Quill says. "But it makes sense to me."

All eyes look to O'Connell.

"I trust each person on this ship," he says. "The death of our commander does not bode well, but it would be foolish to start concocting theories that put each other in a bad light. We can't point fingers without proof and right now there is very little evidence to suggest anyone here is a killer."

"He's right," I whisper. "We started this journey as a team and that's how we should end it. If we let Warrick's death drive us apart, things will only go downhill. Zale -" I turn to the lieutenant, who looks more bedraggled and much less handsome. "Have you managed to contact MIRA yet?"

"Negative," he says sourly. "Communication systems are still down. I can't even get a signal to the nearest space station. The only other thing I can think of is to install a new radio, but we don't have the part for that."

"So we're basically screwed," Minka summarizes unhelpfully.

"We're going to keep trying," O'Connell says bracingly. "If we keep the radios on and monitor them constantly there's bound to be a signal eventually, even if it's just a blip. As for right now, a man is dead. It's time we give him a proper sendoff."

"A funeral? In space?" Kenzo scratches his head. "How?"

"Well, it certainly won't be traditional," Dr. Barnett acknowledges. "But it's the best we can give him. Commander Warrick may have been cold and unpleasant but he dedicated his life to space research. It was his purpose - his drive. Professor O'Connell and I have discussed it and we're sure he would have wanted to rest eternally among the stars."

I've been to two funerals in my life: one for my uncle and the other for my grandfather. During the latter, there wasn't a body. Just an empty casket and a plaque in honor of his bravery and sacrifice. During the former, my entire family was there. I barely remember it, having been so young at the time, but I recall how peaceful my uncle looked in his coffin - almost like he was asleep.

The funeral for Commander Warrick is nothing like either of these two. For one thing, it lasts about fifteen minutes. For another, everyone is barefoot and wearing bright colors.

It's too dangerous to send him out through the full-sized airlock in the docking bay, so we crowd together in the dark, musty Storage room in front of the trash chute. We brought flashlights to provide as much light as possible for O'Connell and Dr. Barnett as they carefully place Warrick's remains in the chute and close the airlock hatch. His body is wrapped securely in a thick black cloth, which I'm grateful for. I don't think I could stand seeing it again.

Professor O'Connell knew Warrick the best. He even goes so far as to call him a friend. The professor gives a brief word and I learn that Warrick left behind a wife and son on Earth. Whoever they are, they will also receive a plaque and an empty casket in honor of their husband and father. We listen to O'Connell in polite silence. When he finishes he says, "Would anyone like to share before we say goodbye?"

There's a soft chorus of shifting and foot-shuffling as no one makes eye-contact with each other. My chest constricts painfully as I consider my options. Is it disrespectful to remain silent? The truth is that I have nothing meaningful to say. I met Commander Warrick two months ago and our interactions since then have been brief, professional, and rather unpleasant. I think desperately, wracking my brains for a nugget of light to remember him by, when Del steps forward.

"I didn't know the commander as you did, sir," he says quietly. "The only thing I can say is how I regret not getting to know him more. He was our fearless leader and I didn't realize how much we needed him until he was gone." His face is obscured in shadow but I can tell he's looking through the glass hatch at the body on the other side. "For that, I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," I say. "For not seeing him for who he was but for the way he died. He...deserved more. May you rest in peace, Commander Warrick."

There are murmurs of assent and whispers as people repeat the sentiment. A few express their own regrets, as well as a story or two about their interactions with the commander.

"He complimented my kombucha once," Kenzo says gravely. "Asked for the recipe and everything."

"He told me a joke once," Quill says slowly. "At least, I think it was meant to be funny. Something about how he sucks the life out of a room faster than a black hole..."

Ebba taps Kenzo's arm and signs something to him, which I can barely make out in the gloom.

"She says he was a misunderstood man," Kenzo tells us. "Apparently he often visited Ebba in Oxygen to meet her newest specimen. 'He loved plants and animals.' Aw, that's really sweet, Eb."

Ebba nods and bends her head, letting her long silver hair fall in front of her face.

It's over. Dr. Barnett steps forward to say a blessing over the body. Then he presses a large button on the wall next to the airlock and the trash chute opens. The body becomes a blur as it's whisked away with a dull whoosh, like it's nothing but a sack of leaves. I stare at the impenetrable blackness of space, wrestling with my feelings of unease and doubt.

When the trash chute closes, we're left with nothing but silence.

As expected, Professor O'Connell gives us the following day to recover. Our main priority now is to contact MIRA. This means Zale has locked himself in Communications while Lenna takes over flying the vessel. I barely see either of them, nor do I see O'Connell, who has officially become our new commander. My guess is that he spends his time jumping from Admin to Comms to Nav and back again, all the while leaving the rest of us to our own devices.

The east wing is a ghost town, Ebba signs when the others ask if she's seen the professor in Oxygen. If not for my plants, it would feel like living among the dead.

Conversely, the west wing of The Skeld is a flurry of activity. We might technically be on bereavement, but the engines need constant supervision. Quill doesn't mind. He confides in me that it's nice to have work to take his mind off all the unpleasantness. I can usually find him clanking around Lower or Upper Engine, otherwise dashing back and forth between the two, covered in grease and grime.

Once upon a time, Osiris and Del were bored out of their skulls in Security. Now they're working overtime patrolling the halls and monitoring the cameras. They recruit Minka, of course, and Kenzo, who has brawn and bravery and proved to be a decent shot with a gun.

With the knowledge of a man-eating monster lurking in the shadows, more people begin carrying weapons. With Del and O'Connell's permission, Minka spends a fair chunk of her time giving lessons in basic hand-to-hand combat and weaponry. For tracing purposes, O'Connell requires us to sign a proper usage contract and register ourselves and our weapon of choice. But I have no interest in weapons. Dr. Barnett and I are the only two people who have not attended a single one of Minka's classes. Ironically, we're also the two people on board who have the least to do. Even with an increase in weapon-wielding, injuries are at an all-time low. This is normally a good thing, but there's nothing worse than sitting and twiddling my thumbs while everyone else dashes about and makes themselves busy.

As a last resort to feel useful, I visit people and offer my assistance with their tasks. I carry a walkie-talkie on my hip at all times, in case Dr. Barnett needs help in Medbay. The very first thing I do is alert Quill about the cut wires I found in the wall by Security. When we check them out together, he confirms my suspicions.

"Yep. These are definitely cut. Recently, too - the exposed ends aren't frayed."

"How recently? Like, within the past two months?"

"Could be. Or the past three. Could even have been the past week. No way to tell for sure." He inspects the ends of the wires carefully. "Pretty easy fix. All I need to do is strip away some of the insulation and twist the ends back together. The wiring systems in old ships like this are pretty simple. We'll have to re-route the electricity away from Security for an hour or two while I'm working, but the boys can go without lights for a while, right?"

"Lights won't be a problem," Del's voice says from behind us. "It's the reality TV that's going to be an issue. Better not schedule the repairs on Friday night or Osiris will blow a fuse."

"Yikes. That's one thing I can't fix."

Del looks at me, his dual-colored eyes mesmerizing. "Sage, I think Ebba needs you in Oxygen."

"You think?"

"Yeah. Kenzo is on lunch duty right now so he wasn't there to translate. But it looks like one of her creepy Polus plants bit her finger."

"It bit -?"

"Look, I'm just the messenger I have no idea what kids of pets she's got locked away in there. I was passing when she asked for you."

"You think she asked for me."

"Right. Better go see, just in case."

"Okay then. See you later, Quill. Thanks again for checking the wires."

"Later, Little Red."

I snort. "Good to know Minka has re-branded me forever."

Del doesn't smile but he watches me carefully as I slowly make my way backwards down the hall. I wish I knew what he's thinking...

"Hey, it could be worse," Quill says sourly. "At least your not Porcupine Boy." Del quirks an eyebrow. Quill makes a face. "Yeah. It all started last Thursday..."

I shake my head, tuning out his story as I walk. The Skeld has an entire room devoted to generating and regulating oxygen and artificial gravity, but it's really small - more like a large closet than a room. Ebba is the only person who spends time there, since that's where she keeps all her plants.

As MIRA's top biologist, she is the only one who watches over and cares for the diverse collection of plants that live here, including specimen from both Earth and Polus. Due to the harsh conditions on Polus, very few plants are able to survive. The few that do find a way have evolved so they are more than just living organisms - they are sentient beings that move and respond to human interaction. Honestly, it creeps me out. I've never been good at keeping plants alive and being around ones that act more like animals is extremely unsettling.

The door to Oxygen is already open but I knock on the doorframe before allowing myself in. It's like walking into a conservatory. The air is warm and humid and smells strongly of fresh fertilizer. Plants of all shapes, sizes, colors, and temperaments cover the floors, shelves, and ceiling. Industrial-sixed vents mounted in the walls provide the room's inhabitants with plenty of freshly-circulated air. I find Ebba in the back of the room with a pair of shears in her hand. She's trimming the leaves of a giant, cabbage-looking plant that appears to be preening itself. She looks up with a smile as I approach, revealing several golden crowns. With her forest green space uniform and long, unruly silver hair she somewhat resembles a wild plant herself. She reaches for me and greets me with a kiss on both cheeks. As she pulls away I notice that all ten of her fingers are intact.

"Hi," I say gently. For some reason I always feel like I need to be soft and quiet around Ebba, for fear of breaking or startling her. "Del said you needed me. One of your, erm...pets bit your finger?"

Ebba shakes her head, waving me away with a smile.

"Oh. So then...what do you need me for?"

She grasps my hand and tugs me gently toward the other side of the room, gesturing with her head. Come. Curious, I follow her to a row of beat-up metal lockers that stands next to a large tank of water. Inside the tank is an entire ecosystem of aquatic plants. Tiny silver fish the size of my pinky nail flit in and out of floating tendrils and swirling roots. I wonder if Ebba wants to show me something inside the tank, but she shuffles over to one of the lockers and pops it open. She reaches inside and withdraws a small black book and hands it to me. I take it, confusion mounting.

"What's this?" I turn it over in my hand. It's blank and nondescript, with a faded leather cover and matching clasp. Ebba mimes opening the book and smiles widely, indicating I take a look inside. I obey. I undo the clasp and let it fall open in my hands. The pages are bloated and wrinkled with age and ink. The handwriting is large and loose and feels familiar to me, somehow.

"It's a journal," I observe, noticing the date scrawled hastily at the top of the page: September 10th, 3023. Whoever this belonged to had written in it over twenty years ago. "Is it yours?"

Ebba shakes her head. She points at the book and then at me.

"No, it's not mine. Do you think someone lost it?"

She smiles and shakes her head harder. She taps the page with a long wrinkled finger and gently moves the book closer to my face.

Oh. She wants me to read it.

The entry under September 10th is short. At first I have a hard time deciphering the hand and I have to re-read is several times before understanding:

September 10th, 3023,

We're getting farther away from Earth now. Commander Hawks isn't the only one who can feel it. The ship is cold. There are fewer and fewer stars with every passing day. I can feel the excitement spreading among us like bad rust.

Only four months and we'll be standing on extraterrestrial soil. I wonder what it will be like to stand on land again. Will I be able to walk? Four months with artificial gravity is a long time.

Fall is coming. They're saying it's cold on Polus. I brought my parka and long underwear but I'm not sure It'll be enough. Is it too much to wish for hot chocolate? I guess we'll find out.

G.K.

Polus.

I glance at Ebba, who watches me with a satisfied smile. "Ebba...where did you get this?"

She reaches out her hands and clasps the air, drawing her empty fists back to her chest. Gift, she mouths.

"Who gave it to you?"

Ebba's hand coaxes the journal from my grip and she flips to the very beginning. The page is completely empty except for a single sentence, which I stare at for a long, long time:

This journal is the property of George Korbel

Heart thumping, I flip back to September 10th and glance again at the initials scrawled at the end of the entry. G.K. There is only one person I know who has those initials. "Ebba, did...did this belong to my grandfather?"

She nods, beaming. Everyone knew George Korbel was the best astronautical engineer of his time. That's why MIRA hand-picked him for the first Polus mission twenty years ago. That's why Quill and I fight so hard to carry out his legacy. The day he died was the day I lost hope. But this journal...this journal changes everything.

It suddenly feels ten times heavier in my hands. Here is written proof that my grandfather not only existed, but voyaged through space. This is his firsthand account of the Polus I. Every word in here is his story. I flick through the pages, excitement mounting. If this is a record of everything that happened to him while he was aboard The Skeld, then it must include some of the last thoughts he'd ever had before meeting his death.

This is it. This is the missing piece I needed.

"These memories are precious," I say, trying to keep the emotion from breaking my voice. "Why are you giving them to me? and why all the secrecy?"

I do my best to read Ebba's lips, but a part of me already knows why. If anyone at MIRA knew this journal existed, they would want it confiscated right away. After all, there could be crucial information about The Incident. As George was my grandfather, this journal rightfully belongs to my family. Ebba knows this. All the same, it's touching that she's willing to surrender something so wonderful.

I don't know what to say. It's the best gift I've ever received. My eyes sting with tears and Ebba turns to spray a strong-smelling liquid on the cabbage plant, giving me time to collect myself.

"Thank you," I croak around the lump in my throat. "I won't tell anyone about it. I'll keep it safe."

Hugging Ebba goodbye, I slip out of Oxygen (dodging a rather ornery sunflower as it snaps angrily at me) and hurry in the direction of the cabins. I pass the Weapons training room on the way and, judging by the yelling spilling into the hallway, I guess Minka's self-defense classes are in full swing.

The temptation to read the journal on the way back to my cabin is unbearable, but I force myself to leave it for later. If it's true that MIRA wants to confiscate it for information, it's best to keep it hidden. I store it under my mattress and triple-check to make sure my door is locked when I leave. I'll finish my rounds and come back later. People might ask questions if I disappear now.

And everyone knows I'm a terrible liar.