Darius flips a few pages. “He mentions being restless at lights out. He attributes it to the announcement about Sergio. Other than that, there’s no mention of hallucinations or company in his quarters.”
My mind tries to make sense of this incident. Subject Two. Jonathan. History of substance use. History of trauma. Baseline scans within expected ranges since the first dose. No recorded anomalies in last vitals.
Now missing an organ. But alive.
“Em,” Idris murmurs. His voice is closer to my ear now. “Can you breathe with me?”
I realize I’ve been holding my breath while trying to process the news.
Staring at Idris, I mirror his breaths. I inhale. Air feels thick. It moves in unevenly, catching at the top of my lungs. I count with him anyway. In—two, three, four. Out—two, three, four.
It helps for half a cycle. But Darius’ terse tone collides with the fragile balance. “I know this is more bad news after yesterday,” he says. It almost sounds like an apology, which is rare coming from him. “But, Emira, you need the full picture to decide what happens next.”
I look over at Darius. He meets my eyes. His are bloodshot at the corners.
“Jon is requesting Kys to get him through this event,” Darius explains, still looking at me. “Which I leave up to you.”
I nod. It’s another decision. Another variable to consider. Itshould be expected that Jonathan would ask for Kys. It’s pain relief, stabilization. A coping mechanism.
But what stays with me more than the request is the pattern forming in front of us. Someone on this ship is removing parts of people. Sergio’s eyes. Jonathan’s tongue.
My body starts to react again. I feel it coming this time.
Heat climbs the back of my head. My fingertips are freezing cold. The same sensations I’ve been filing away since yesterday start crowding the same space in my head, pushing against each other with nowhere left to go.
I tighten my grip on the tablet. Even that small motion feels difficult.
“I’ll speak to Jonathan,” I say. The words come out controlled enough.
Then I turn and walk out of the captain’s room toward the MedBay, hoping distance will give me room to think.
***
The MedBay is a quiet space. My footsteps sound too loud against the tiles.
A medical staff member stands by a bed behind an opened blue curtain. I don’t know their name. We’ve never spoken much before. Their medical mask covers half their face, but I see the tension in their shoulders.
Before I can greet them, they straighten abruptly. “D-Doctor, I…” they start to say, tripping over words. “Thank you. I… I’ll step out.”
They don’t wait for my response. I don’t give it in time. They move past me with an urgency that doesn’t match the stillness of the room. The doors slide shut behind them.
I turn toward the bed, holding my tablet tightly against my beatingchest. The curtain is open, revealing Jonathan’s closed eyes and relaxed face.
He’s asleep on his back, one arm on his chest. The blanket covers him up to his waist. The heart monitor beside him displays a consistent set of beats. The oxygen saturation reading is acceptable.
I scan his chest. His breathing pattern is shallow but stable. His skin tone is paler, though not alarming. His lips are slightly cracked but no longer bloodied as Darius described.
My breath leaves me in a long, silent exhale. My shoulders lower.
I take a seat on the stool beside his bed. My gaze moves to his face. There’s bandages taped along his whole jaw.
Stepping closer, I adjust the blanket up to Jonathan’s shoulders. He’s alive. He’s been hurt, but he’s alive. I let out another slow breath, knowing there’s a chance we can catch the culprit now.
Behind me, the MedBay doors slide open.
Stan’s voice reaches me before the rest of him does. “Doc, tell me nobody else woke up missing a vital organ ‘cause my anxiety can’t handle that before lunch.”
He marches in with Nil following behind. “Hi, Em.”
