Chapter 4
📚 Need to catch up? Here’s Chapter 1, Chapter 2, and Chapter 3.
The Concern
“How was your final session?”
“Fine,” Adam grumbles.
“Right. You always look this tense after a ‘fine’ session.”
Adam pivots, boots scuffing the floor as he strides back toward the facility. He keeps his shoulders stiff, his pace steady.
He doesn’t need this today.
Not from it.
Whirrr-tik, whirrr-tik, whirrr-tik. The android jogs to catch up, its movements fluid and silent, yet still unmistakably mechanical. Pale ivory synthetic skin sheathes its frame. At a glance, it could easily be mistaken for a human.
“Your journal, sir. Abandoned in the Wardroom,” it says, holding out the datapad.
Adam snatches the device as he quickens his pace across the vast hangar floor.
“Did you discuss your trauma from the bombing?”
“Yeah,” he says, eyes fixed straight ahead as they approach the security checkpoint.
“And the nightmares you’ve been having? Did you discuss those, too?”
“Yes,” he lies, pressing his palm against the biometric scanner to exit the hangar. The door whirs open with an obedient click.
“And your concerns about working with Mr. Nabal?”
“Didn’t come up.”
“Why not?”
“It just didn’t come up,” he says as the door slides shut behind them.
They move into a quieter corridor leading to the crew quarters. The harsh echoes of the hangar fade into more subtle sounds: the low thrum of environmental systems, the whirrr-tik, whirrr-tik of Tartar’s servomechanisms.
“But sir,” it says, lowering its tone, “the mission’s Commander must be able to rely on his Systems Engineer—”
Adam halts so suddenly that the android barely has time to react. He locks eyes with its distinctive LED gaze. Two large, eyes dominate its sleek, featureless black screen face, each eye composed of countless smaller LEDs that shimmer in unison. The lights flicker from amber to bright yellow as if responding to the sudden pause.
“Listen, Tartar,” he says, irked, “I already told you: I’ll handle it. Levi and I are fine.” He turns sharply, resuming his tense march.
Tartar pursues, undeterred.
“‘Fine,’ again, sir? Your cortisol levels beg to differ. They spike twenty three percent whenever Mr. Nabal is around,” it insists, eyes flickering to blue ovals.
“You’re scanning me now?”
“It’s part of my health-monitoring subroutine. Ensuring your well-being is essential to the mission—”
“Well, stop it.”
“Very well, sir, but I do not need to scan your biometrics to know how tightly wound you have become.”
Adam halts again, patience frayed to nothing.
“You know what I can’t stand about you robots?” he says, bitter. “You can’t lie.”
Wrrrv, its head tiles. “You are correct, sir. We are programmed to be honest at all times. It is one of our core directives.”
A bitter scoff escapes him. His mind flashes back—to when an android’s honesty shattered his world.
“Yeah, that’s the issue. Sometimes, the truth is more dangerous than a lie.”
Tartar’s eyes flicker. “I do not understand. How can honesty be dangerous?”
Adam sighs. “Never mind. Just... give me some space.”
“Of course, Commander. I’ll be here if you need me.”
It falls back, granting Adam the distance he requested while maintaining its watchful presence.
“And it’s not ‘Commander,’” he says without looking back.
“But—”
“Not until it’s announced,” he says, striding through sliding doors beneath a sign reading ‘CREW QUARTERS.’
The door closes between them.
A pause.
“Yes, Commander,” it replies, faint hesitation.
·∘☩°☩∘·
Adam walks down the corridor before stopping in front of the door adjacent to his quarters. Pressing the call button, he waits, but nothing happens.
“Adam Elwin for Dr. Lilith Athalya.”
“Dr. Athalya is momentarily indisposed,” SARA replies.
Adam narrows his eyes.
“It’s urgent. I need to talk to her right away.”
After a moment, she responds, “One moment, please.”
He hears muffled voices, a conversation hastily concluding, followed by soft footsteps approaching. The door slides open to reveal Lilith, clad in a thin robe and slippers, towel-drying her damp hair.
“Morning,” she greets him warmly, her smile faltering as she notes his tension. “How’d it go?”
“I passed,” he replies with a shrug.
She tilts her head. “But?”
Adam sighs, words failing him.
“Come in,” she coaxes, stepping back and placing a hand on his arm, a brief squeeze that says more than words.
The door hisses shut behind them. Adam sinks onto the sofa, his brow furrowing as an unfamiliar scent fills his nostrils. Gone is Lilith’s usual lavender oil; instead, a pungent mix of sweat—sharp and sour—with something unpleasant he can’t quite put his finger on.
“Wasn’t expecting company this early,” she apologizes, scooping up the discarded gym clothes in one swift motion.
“No worries,” he says, watching her glide through the room, tossing the clothes into a hamper before retreating into the privacy of her bathroom.
“So, what’s bothering you?” she asks, her voice echoing lightly over the sound of running water.
Adam rubs his hands together. “Something’s off, Lily.”
“Did that mandatory ‘shrink’ sesh mess with your head again? Because I swear, if they’re pushing you too hard—”
“No, it’s not that. This morning, Levi was waiting outside my quarters.”
“Oh?” Lilith replies as she re-enters the room, now dressed for the day.
Her uniform—a smooth, midnight-blue fabric—hugs her athletic frame. 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. He kept needling me, like he wanted to throw me off right before the eval.”
“Well, that sounds typical for Levi,” she says, smoothing down her uniform.
“This was different, though. Deliberate. Like he wanted me to fail.”
She pauses, fingers halting as she pulls her hair into a ponytail. “Why would he do that?”
“I’ve got this feeling like he’s onto me. Like he knows that I know something he wants to keep secret.”
“Hmm…” Lilith reflects, her gaze distant. Her lips press together, thin and pale, as though she’s chewing over something bitter. She turns abruptly, striding to the kitchenette. “Your usual?”
He gestures with a thumb raised.
She smiles, then commands, “Two coffees, black. No cream, no sugar.”
A sleek device whirrs to life. Seconds later, two steaming cups appear.
Lilith hands Adam his cup, her fingers intentionally brushing his.
“Here you go.”
With a habit born of past caution, he dips his left pinky into the liquid first before taking a tentative sip.
“So, what’s this dark secret of Levi’s?” she asks, lowering herself onto the sofa. Their knees almost touch.
Adam stares into his coffee, the steam curling up like the thoughts in his mind.
Voicing this could tear the crew apart but staying silent feels worse. Still, if there’s anyone he trusts…
“It’s more of a hunch,” he admits. “I have no proof. But I think Levi is abusing Zoe.”
Lilith’s cup freezes halfway to her lips. She places it down, her face somber.
“Adam, that’s serious.”
He nods, unable to meet her eyes. “She’s always tense, uncomfortable—shrinks 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.”
Lilith’s brows draw together. “Now that you mention it, Zoe has been acting off. Withdrawn. I thought it was just pre-mission jitters, but...”
Adam leans forward, his elbows on his knees, cradling his coffee. “We’re still so new to the team. It’s hard to tell what’s normal.”
Lilith’s hand finds his knee, squeezing gently. “Well, what’s not normal is the Systems Engineer sabotaging his Commander. Or abusing his Mating Pair.”
Adam’s gaze drops to Lilith’s hand on his knee, his shoulders sagging.
Lilith’s eyes widen suddenly, her grip tightening. “Wait. They’re our only Mating Pair. Our Plan B if the embryos don’t work.”
Adam’s head snaps up, his eyes widening as he catches up with Lilith’s thought process.
“If Zoe speaks up, if Levi’s removed...” says Adam.
“...we might lose our back-up plan,” she finishes. “Humanity’s last hope, if things go sideways.”
The weight of the realization settles over them like a shroud.
Adam jolts upright, his coffee threatening to spill as he hastily sets the mug down on the table.
“What now?” he asks, now pacing the small room.
Lilith rises, intercepting his pacing. She places a hand on his arm, stilling him. “We tread carefully. If we’re wrong, we jeopardize the mission. If we’re right…”
Adam stares at the floor. “We have to do something. What was it that Yuki used to tell the team? Bear one another’s burdens?”
“Right, but not every burden is yours to bear, Adam. Maybe she needs to figure it out on her own.”
Adam sighs. “But what if it’s not enough?”
“Then you stay vigilant. Sometimes, that’s all you can do.”
“No. I need to talk to Zoe.” He pulls away from Lilith’s touch, resuming his restless pacing. “I should have done it already.”
Lilith steps in front of him again, this time gripping both his shoulders. “We need to be discreet. I don’t want—I mean, Levi shouldn’t get any ideas about you being alone with Zoe. You don’t have to handle this alone. You’ve got me.”
He opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes. Something shifts in Lilith’s expression—concern, sure, but also something deeper, more complicated.
“We’re a team, Adam,” she says. “Always have been. You and me.”
Just as he’s about to respond, a familiar automated voice interrupts the moment: “The presence of you and Mr. Elwin is requested immediately in Mission Control.”
“Privacy off,” Lilith says, directing her command at the room’s voice control system. The walls shimmer as if an invisible layer of sound-dampening film has been removed. “Not now, SARA. Tell them we’ll be there when the meeting starts.”
“My apologies, ma’am, I am prevented from relaying any message but the following: ‘The presence of you and Mr. Elwin is requested immediately in Mission Control.’”
Adam and Lilith exchange quick, alarmed glances. The ComSpec on Adam’s wrist vibrates with intensity, its urgent red light pulsing.
“Seems serious,” he says.
Lilith nods, already moving toward the door. “It does. We’ll have to continue this later.”
·∘☩°☩∘·
The hallways are unusually quiet as they traverse the massive labyrinth.
Without warning, the white lights flicker and die, replaced by an eerie red glow.
“Emergency lights,” Adam mutters, quickening his pace. “This can’t be good.”
SARA’s voice fills the building: “Security lockdown initiated. All personnel, proceed to designated safe zones immediately.”
Alarms blare through the hallways. The red lights pulse in a disorienting rhythm. Running footsteps and shouted orders echo from all directions, adding to the chaos.
Lilith grabs Adam’s arm, her fingers digging into his skin. “A security lockdown? How is that possible?”
“I don’t know, but we need to get to Mission Control fast.” He pries her hand off with care, urging her forward.
As they round the corner, they pass a large, illuminated display. Adam’s eyes lock onto the sinister image—a busy pub overshadowed by a lurking figure. Above the image, the sign reads: “VIGILANCE SAFEGUARDS OUR FUTURE–Report Ecocentrist activity. Our silence invites their violence!”
“What if it’s another attack?” Lilith gasps between breaths. “What if they’re trying to stop us... again?”
Adam doesn’t reply immediately.
He can’t.
Memories of the bombing crash over him like a tidal wave—the deafening roar, the suffocating smoke, the screams, the blood.
He blinks hard, forcing himself back to the present.
“We don’t know anything yet.”
Even as he speaks, his heart hammers—not from running, but from rising dread. 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, her face pale and illuminated by the pulsing red light.
The entrance to Mission Control comes into view—a pair of reinforced steel doors towering ahead, the last barrier between them and the unknown crisis waiting beyond.
.