Chapter 3
📚 Need to catch up? Here’s Chapter 1 and Chapter 2.
The Concern
“How was the final session?” a familiar voice interrupts.
“Fine,” Adam grunts, turning away sharply.
“Right. You always look this tense after a ‘fine’ session,” it says, holding out a datapad. “Your dream journal, sir. Abandoned in the mess hall, with your poker face.”
Adam snatches it, quickening his pace across the vast hangar floor to outdistance the android.
It follows closely behind, its motions fluid and silent, though unmistakably mechanical. Lifelike synthetic skin, the color of pale ivory, sheathes its frame, flexing imperceptibly with every move. Each feature of its body, from limbs to joints to fingers, is meticulously designed to mimic human anatomy. This uncanny likeness extends to virtually every aspect of its form, creating a figure so lifelike that, at a glance, it could easily be mistaken for a person.
“Did you discuss your trauma from the bombing?” it asks, its voice a blend of persistence and artificial concern.
“Yes,” Adam replies, his eyes fixed straight ahead as they approach the security checkpoint.
“And the nightmares you’ve been having? Did you discuss those, too?”
“Yes,” Adam lies, pressing his palm against the biometric scanner to exit the hangar.
“And your concerns about working with Mr. Nabal?”
“Didn’t come up.”
“Is there a specific reason why you were unable to discuss your concerns about working with Mr. Nabal?”
“Told you. It didn’t come up.”
They pass into a stiller corridor leading to crew quarters.
“But, sir,” it says, quieter now, “the mission’s Commander must be able to rely on their systems engineer.”
Adam stops abruptly in the corridor to face it, almost too fast for the android to react.
He locks eyes with the android, drawn to its distinctive LED gaze. Set against the sleek, featureless black screen of its face, the large, circular eyes dominate. They flicker, transitioning from a concerned amber to a surprised bright yellow at Adam’s abrupt halt.
The seamless transition between the charcoal black face-screen and the android’s creamy-white synthetic skin is a marvel of engineering, with no discernible line where the two materials meet. This impeccable design only heightens the uncanny valley effect.
“Listen, Tartar,” Adam says, exasperated, “I already told you: I’ll handle it. Levi and I are fine.” He turns sharply on his heel, boots scuffing against the polished floor.
Tartar jogs to catch up, undeterred.
“‘Fine,’ again, sir? Your cortisol levels beg to differ. They spike on average 23% whenever Mr. Nabal is around,” it insists, its eyes flickering to blue ovals.
“You’re scanning me now?”
“Always. It’s part of my programming to ensure your well-being.”
“Well, don’t.”
“Very well, sir, but I don’t need to scan your biometrics to know how tightly wound you’ve become.”
Adam stops again, his patience wearing thin.
“You know what the problem is with you robots?” he asks, his voice laced with bitterness. “You can’t lie.”
Tartar tilts its head, processing the statement.
“You are correct, sir. We are programmed, to be honest at all times. It is one of our core directives.”
Adam lets out a humorless laugh. His mind flashes to the past—to the moment when an android’s honesty had shattered his world.
“Yeah, that’s the issue. Sometimes, truth can be more dangerous than a lie.”
Tartar’s eyes flicker.
“I do not understand. How can honesty be dangerous?”
Adam sighs. “Never mind, Tartar. Just... give me some space.”
“Of course, Commander. I’ll be here if you need me.”
It falls back, allowing Adam the distance he requested while maintaining its watchful presence.
“And it’s not ‘Commander,’ at least not yet,” Adam retorts without looking back.
“But—” Tartar begins.
“Not until the crew knows,” Adam cuts it off, striding through sliding doors beneath a sign reading ‘CREW QUARTERS’.
There’s a brief pause before Tartar responds.
“Yes, Commander,” its voice lowered to a near-whisper, as the door closes between them.
+ + +
He continues down the hallway, his footsteps echoing in the silence. He stops in front of the door next to his room.
“Adam Elwin for Dr. Lilith Athalya.”
“Dr. Athalya is momentarily indisposed,” the door replies in a smooth, automated voice.
Adam narrows his eyes, his impatience growing.
“It’s urgent. I need to talk to her right away.”
There is a brief pause before the door responds. “One moment, please.”
Adam can hear a muffled conversation quickly wrapping up followed by faint shuffling from behind the door, then the sound of soft footsteps. The door slides open to reveal a woman dressed in a thin robe and slippers, drying her hair with a towel.
“Morning,” she greets him warmly, her smile faltering as she notes the tension in his features.
“How’d it go?”
“I passed,” he replies with a shrug.
She tilts her head. “But?”
Adam lets out a sigh but doesn’t reply.
“Come in,” Lilith coaxes. She steps back, ushering him inside with a gentle touch to his arm.
The door closes behind them as he plops onto a sofa, noticing a faint, unusual odor in the air. Probably from the gym clothes strewn next to an emptied water bottle on the floor. He frowns slightly, catching an odd whiff—something sharp and chemical beneath the expected sweat.
“Wasn’t expecting visitors,” she apologizes, collecting the soiled items.
“No worries,” he says, trying to smile, but the concern remains.
He watches her move around the room, tossing the clothes into a hamper before retreating into the privacy of her bathroom to change into her uniform.
“So, what’s bothering you?” she asks from the other room.
Adam rubs his hands together nervously.
“Something’s off, Lily.”
A familiar tightness grips his chest. He hates bringing others into his problems, but if anyone can help, it’s Lilith.
“Is it the PTSD again? Because that’s not something you’ll get over before the launch, you know.”
“No, I know, and it’s not that. This morning, Levi was waiting outside my quarters. Dressed to the nines, way too early.”
“Oh?” Lilith replies as she re-enters the room, her eyes tightened at the mention of Levi being near Adam’s quarters.
The smooth, midnight blue fabric of her uniform hugs her athletic form as she adjusts the reflective piping. The insignia on her chest gleams—a hexagonal base emblazoned with a central atom symbol, encircled by a DNA helix—a reminder of her rank as Chief Science Officer.
“Yeah. That guy was totally pushing my buttons, trying to get under my skin right before my last psych eval.”
“Well, that sounds typical for Levi,” she rationalizes, running her hands over the sleek attire.
“This was different. Deliberate. Like he wanted me to fail.”
“Why would he do that?” she asks, pulling her hair into a ponytail.
“I’ve got this feeling, you know? Like he’s onto me. Pretty sure I’m picking up on something he’s trying to keep hidden.”
“Hmm…” she reflects, then walks to the kitchenette.
“Your usual?” she asks.
He makes a quick, affirming gesture with his hand.
She smiles, then commands, “Two black coffees, no cream, no sugar.”
A sleek device whirrs to life. Seconds later, two steaming cups appear.
Lilith hands Adam his cup, her fingers brushing his.
“Here you go.”
He takes a cautious sip, his left pinky dipping into the liquid first, a habit born of past caution.
“So, what’s this dark secret of Levi’s?” she inquires, taking a seat close to him on the sofa.
He hesitates, about to voice something that could tear the crew apart, but the alternative—staying silent—seems far worse.
Besides, if there’s anyone Adam trusts…
“It’s more of a hunch,” he admits. “I have no proof. But I think Levi is abusing Zoe.”
Lilith lowers her cup mid-sip. Adam has her full attention now.
“The signs are there—tension, discomfort, Zoe shrinking away when he’s around. And that bruise under her collarbone?”
Lilith nods, her eyes widening. “The ‘workout accident’.”
“Exactly. This morning, Levi was trying to rattle me. I think he knows I’m onto him.”
“Adam, that’s serious.”
Her grip tightens on her coffee cup, knuckles turning white.
“If he’s hurting her...” she pauses, trying to compose herself.
“I know.”
Lilith’s brows squeeze together. “Now that you mention it, Zoe has been acting off. Withdrawn. Teary.”
“We’re still so new to the team,” he says. “It’s hard to tell what’s normal.”
Lilith leans in, lowering her voice. “What’s not normal is the Systems Engineer sabotaging his Commander. Or abusing his Mating Pair.”
A thought strikes her.
“Wait. They’re our only Mating Pair. Our Plan B if the embryos don’t work.”
Adam’s eyes widen as he catches up with Lilith’s thought process.
“If Zoe speaks up, if Levi’s removed...”
“...we might lose our back up plan,” Lilith finishes. “Humanity’s last hope, if things go sideways.”
The weight of the realization settles over them like a shroud.
“What now?” Adam asks.
Lilith moves closer, practically eliminating any space between them, her hand finding his. “We tread carefully. If we’re wrong, we jeopardize the mission. If we’re right...”
“I need to talk to Zoe,” Adam says, guilt gnawing at him. How long has he suspected? How long has he stayed silent?
“I should have done it already.”
Lilith’s pulls his hands apart, cradling them both. “We need to be discreet. I don’t want Levi getting any ideas about you being alone with Zoe.”
He opens his mouth to respond, but she cuts him off.
“Adam, you know I’m always here for you. You can lean on me. Let’s figure this out together,” she says, her tone softening but her grip remaining firm. “Let’s wait for the right moment, when Levi isn’t around.”
Adam nods slowly, his eyes searching Lilith’s face. There’s something in her expression he can’t quite place—concern, certainly, but also a flash of... what? Jealousy?
“We’re a team, Adam,” she says. “Always have been. You and me. We’ll figure this out.”
Just as he’s about to respond, a familiar automated voice interrupts the moment:
“Dr. Athalya, your and Commander Elwin’s presence is requested immediately in mission control.”
“Privacy off,” Lilith says.
The walls shimmer as if an invisible layer of sound-dampening film has been removed.
“Not now,” she dismisses. “Tell them we’ll be there when the meeting starts.”
“My apologies, ma’am, I am prevented from relaying any message but the following: ‘Dr. Athalya, your and Mr. Elwin’s presence is requested immediately in mission control.’”
“Sounds serious,” Adam says.
She dips her chin fractionally. “It does. We’ll have to continue this later.”
They both stand, leaving their cups of coffee behind, and make their way to mission control.
The hallways seem unusually quiet. Suddenly, the colorless artificial lights that illuminate the passageways turn red.
“Emergency lights,” Adam mutters, quickening his pace. “This can’t be good.”
The air seems to thicken with tension as the same automated voice fills the building: “Security lockdown initiated. All personnel, please proceed to designated safe zones immediately.”
Alarms blare through the hallways, the red lights now pulsing in a dizzying rhythm. The sound of running footsteps and shouted orders echoes from all directions, adding to the chaos.
Lilith glances at Adam, her expression mirroring his concern. “A security lockdown? How is that possible?”
“I don’t know, but we need to get to mission control fast,” Adam replies as they begin to run with urgency.
Rounding the corner, they pass by a large, illuminated display on the wall that catches Adam’s eye.
The poster features a busy pub with a sinister, shadowy figure lurking over it.
“VIGILANCE SAFEGUARDS OUR FUTURE–Report Ecocentrist activity. Our silence invites their violence!”
Lilith asks: “What if it’s another attack?” her words coming out in short bursts as they run. “What if they’re trying to stop us… again?”
Adam doesn’t reply immediately. His mind races, cycling through possibilities. The memory of the bombing crash over him like a wave: the deafening roar of the explosion, the smoke choking his lungs, the screams, the blood.
He blinks hard, forcing himself back to the present.
“We don’t know anything yet,” he finally says, voice tight with exertion. “Let’s not jump to conclusions.”
Even as he says it, Adam can feel his heart racing, and not from running. The specter of another attack looms in his mind, but he shoves the fear down. Panic is a luxury he can’t afford right now.
“Let’s get the facts.”
Lilith gives a curt nod. They round the corner, the entrance to mission control now in sight.
Whatever’s happening, they’re about to find out.