Coincidence is the cadence of the universe, the metronome of the invisible flow of the Light. Where there is coincidence, there is unseen order, if one would only listen to it, and in that order, find many answers.
If one was Starlit, coincidences were a sign of being in tune with the rhythm of the cosmos; they were a glimpse ofascension, when the seeming mysteries of the Light revealed themselves to the observer. Iris felt little ascended. If anything, the room had left him rattled, his mind disorganised; the spot where his arm had wrapped around Yan’s waist in theembarrassingly high tackle burned. It had been burning since their first minute in the maintenance room and hadn’t stopped since.
“All I’m saying is,” Ishtan’s voice returned to Iris as he willed himself to be present, “the timing seems too convenient. Especially with the door actively trying to stay shut.”
This was new information. Yan had never told him either. As sweetly as he could, given the rising tension, Iris asked, “Ishtan, I’m hearing now that you are suspecting our accident was deliberate sabotage, like Yan suggested, but who would do such a thing?”
“Someone who doesn’t want us here.”
At the next turn, Iris paused, making a show of trying to remember directions, then said, “I think it’s this way. I remember coming through here last night.” He motioned for everyone to follow and took off down the corridor on his right. The moss below their feet lay untouched and if his companions had been any more attentive, they would find this odd. Soft and springy, it ran along the floor, two inches thick. Iris couldn’t help but roll his toes against the carpet of it. VIFAI happily noted a rare spike in his dopamine levels. Behind him, three pairs of feet trampled said moss as the procession silently made its way down the dim corridor.
Along the path, Iris spotted many doors that led to what appeared to be personal quarters. Just how many lonely skeletons would he find with identical gunshot wounds in their skulls? If only there was time to look, to explore, to investigate, todo the right thing. Butthe right thingwas already beginning to slip from his grasp.
By the time they reached the airlock, the station security guards were both glancing nervously at their watches andmuttering among themselves about wasting time. A grey and lifeless panel greeted them. The door ahead was dead asleep. Iris wiped the cracked rectangular glass with the sleeve of his robe and pressed his face against it. “Looks to be in good order from here,” he said.
“Move aside. We take over from here,” said Guard 1, as Iris had begun referring to him internally.
Iris spun underneath the guard’s outstretched hand, a flurry of white robes. “Of course,” he said, placing two long steps between him and the second guard. “Most certainly.”
With a frustrated groan, the first guard reached into the topmost pocket of his cargo pants and produced a small, metallic device. He proceeded to dial a few knobs and then pressed the device against the fuse box, similar to the one Yan broke into in the maintenance room. The device could be a way to read the operational levels, to double-check that the airlock was alive, or it could do nothing at all.
“How do we know it’s even doing anything?” Ishtan whispered into Iris’s ear.
“I sense they want to get off the ship as much as we do,” Iris whispered back. At least, he thought so. They could be great actors, for all he knew. A ship like this was a mere curiosity and a professional responsibility to him, but to everyone else on board it was a multibillion-credit investment. Like Ishtan said, it had the potential to create many jobs for many people. Interested parties would go to great lengths to secure this investment for themselves. Institutes, Doshua Station, or just about anyone else with the capital could enter the fight for the artifact. Iris chose to err on the side of a mostly kind humanity, a humanity that was collaborative and socially sound. The selfish and violent tendencies were outliers, not the norm, he reassured himself.
“They’re on contract too. They wouldn’t get paid if any of you got hurt.” That was a singular and materialistic truth Iris was confident in—unless, of course, the contract too was a ruse, and they cared far more about removing competition. Despite never having handled currency, Iris was aware of its worth, the lengths and depths people embarked on to acquire it, and its ability to erase all distance between what wasgoodandbad. If enough money was at stake, which one would weigh out, professional responsibility or greed?
After a few minutes, the first guard silently nodded for the second guard to come over, and they both stared at the fuse box like it was a puzzle, and they were two very curious and clueless toddlers. A few more minutes ticked by, and the guards did nothing more than scratch their heads in unison. If they were looking to dispose of Ishtan and Iris, they were doing a disappointing job of it. Each one pulled out their radios and stared at those as well, but the devices remained deadly silent in their hands.
“What seems to be the problem?” Iris asked.
“Nothing,” Guard 1 bit back, yet there was honest frustration in his voice, mixed with fear.
The younger, second guard appeared more reasonable and replied, “The airlock appears perfectly operational, but it’s receiving a signal to remain locked. Radio’s dead too. It’s …strange.”
Iris looked at Ishtan, who raised his eyebrows high. “Looks like we’re staying for a bit longer.”
A sudden jolt passed through Iris’s spine.
Something is pinging me,VIFAI said, keeping with its habit of being consistently two seconds too late.
Iris rubbed his spine at the spot where it met the base of his skull. The burning spread along his vertebrae until it washedover Iris’s ribcage and died somewhere along his sternum. “We should head back,” he said, his words rushed. “We’re already running low on time, and we wouldn’t want the others to worry.”
Ishtan gave Iris an odd, knowing look, but didn’t protest. As they turned towards the corridor, Ishtan leaned over and whispered, “We’re being watched, aren’t we?”
No sane person would deny it. Something or someone had been watching them since they had set foot on the ship. It was watching them through the walls and through the mossy floors, through every cracked surveillance camera, and every dark turn of the corridors. There was an uninvited stranger among them, and their invisible gaze raised the fine hairs on Iris’s neck, stirred an uneasy feeling in his stomach. Their every move was out in the open, studied and dissected. Stalked, like prey. Iris shook his head abruptly, banishing the defeatist thought to the periphery.
The ping is gone, VIFAI said.It was stronger this time, more demanding. It knew when we approached the airlock.
Iris acknowledged it, still rubbing the sore nape of his neck.Any luck with the feed?
Two, low pitch tones—no.
Prepared or not, the strangeness was beginning to converge on them.
When the sullen column made it back to the communal space, Yan, Riyu, and the students were already waiting for them. Jesi and Tev were drinking coffee, crouched by the steaming kettle, while Yan and Riyu arguing softly among themselves, out of earshot. Startled by the approaching footsteps, Yan turned to greet them. It took a single look at Ishtan’s expression to let his disappointment flow freely. “Do you want to start with yourbad news, or shall I?” Ishtan welcomed him to go ahead with a wave of a hand.
Iris already suspected the sort of bad news Yan was bringing.
