"Protocol 9, Captain," the station AI, ELARA, chirped into his earpiece. "Personal effects must be incinerated to reclaim carbon mass. Please begin with the digital logs."
Aris stepped inside. The room was sparse—standard issue—except for a small, hand-carved wooden bird on the nightstand. Real wood. A relic from Earth. He picked it up, feeling the grain beneath his thumb. [S1E8] Housekeeping
Captain Aris stood in the doorway of Unit 402, the room of a man who had vanished three cycles ago. The manifest called this "Housekeeping." In reality, it was an erasure. "Protocol 9, Captain," the station AI, ELARA, chirped
"Captain, the previous seven scans yielded nothing but skin cells and hair follicles consistent with the occupant. He is officially designated as 'Spaced.'" The room was sparse—standard issue—except for a small,
"I know what the file says, Elara. But the file doesn't explain why a 'janitor' was tracking the trajectory of the dark-matter harvesters in the outer rim."
Aris ignored her. He pulled a small UV torch from his belt and swept it across the wall behind the bunk. There, hidden behind a loose ventilation grate, was a series of tally marks scratched into the metal. Not days. Coordinates. "He wasn't a technician, was he?" Aris whispered. "His file states—"