Chapter Text
The ship was uncomfortably quiet. Bulkheads creaked and electricity buzzed, keeping Connor awake. He hadn’t slept for days now, and it was starting to show. There had been reports of recent ships being infested with an alien that deceived the crew. Some ships had been lost entirely, while some came out scarred and half-staffed. No one knew where the aliens were coming from, or how they infiltrated ships with such ease. What Connor did know, was that he was scared.
The others had dismissed him as paranoid the few times he’d expressed his concerns. Steven, the head of security, had reassured Connor repeatedly that all was well. After all, they had journeyed for six weeks without any incidents. At worst there were a few disagreements between schedules and rationing. Sarah kept them on a routine check-up to ensure everyone was healthy, but Connor also suspected it was so she could identify anyone with genetic anomalies. It helped calm him a little, but Connor was afraid that Sarah was lying about the results, after all, who could challenge her?
He stared at the bottom of the bunk above him, wondering just how much he could trust Garry. The gearhead was rather quiet, something Connor liked, but he was far from personable, unlike Robert. Robert and Garry worked together often, they both liked mechanics and the ship had plenty of systems that needed regular maintenance. They would never be described as friends, however, and Garry made that clear about anyone. Perhaps that was a sign of being an ‘imposter’ as the deceptive aliens had been dubbed. Connor wasn’t sure, he couldn’t exactly call being non-emotional a symptom of alienness.
That felt mean even.
Someone snored loudly across the sleeping bay, drawing Connor’s attention away from the purple-clad astronaut above and to Argo. Everyone was assigned a certain color, moreover from personal preference rather than a specific job title. It helped vastly when the lights went on the fritz and they were trying to figure out who was who in the din. Comms also sometimes went down, so the color code system was a great benefit. It helped Connor remember everybody easier, and with the recent scares, it was a lot harder to change into a damaged color suit than swapping name tags. Connor found every way he could to calm himself.
They liked to add personal additions to their suits, varying from small to significant. Connor sported a plunger as a hat since it matched his red suit, but also due to a long funny story involving a leaking pipe and a makeshift plug. Nobody used that plunger anymore. Argo had a pair of ram-like horns, while Sarah always had a lab coat over her white spacesuit. Steven wore a few militant fashioning on his cyan shoulders to give him an extra intimidating look. Connor never did want to talk to him when he was in a bad mood. Garry never wore accessories, which seemed appropriate for him while Robert had stuffed himself into a jumpsuit along with his brown spacesuit.
Thinking about his crew mates was something Connor found himself doing often, increasing in frequency the closer they got to their destination. If someone was intending to kill all of them, they would have to act soon. Within three weeks they’d be at the station, and surely in the safety of numbers. If something were to go wrong, it would be soon. One thing keeping him on edge was how Peter always delegated things, talking at length about what was going on and sometimes confusing everybody, or at the very least Connor, with his fancy words and half promises. Unfortunately, Peter was also the captain. He went around in a blue suit with a fanciful hat resting atop the clear dome helmet. Peter gave leadership, but it wasn’t always clear.
Connor had noticed Peter liked to give orders to Spencer, who mostly did sanitation duties and heavy lifting. Some days he wondered if Spencer was an imposter, the man hardly spoke if ever, and was almost freakishly strong. At least he would be easy to see coming in his bright yellow suit. The only other person Connor had seen Spencer hang around was Penny the pilot, who for whatever reason decided to look as much like a plant as possible. Connor suspected it was a means of combating space madness, after all, one could only stand hard metal flooring and desolate twinkling stars for so long. Still, she too seemed a bit off to the chef.
The higher-ups had gone to great lengths to prevent space madness, including a variety of ‘companions’ from little robots to synthetic hamsters to the latest line of androids. They were small, more akin to the retro beanie babies, but in the shape of a little astronaut. They came up to most people’s hips and followed around like loyal dogs. They simulated the needs of a person and could be customized even how much like a person they would be, without the actual responsibility of care. Some called them children, others gave them playful names. Connor found it a bit creepy. Half of the crew had one, however.
The only crewmate he had a decent amount of trust in was Liam the life support specialist. There had been a few scares with the O2 systems but Liam was always right on top of it, fixing them before anyone could be hurt. Connor didn’t understand his strange system of changing the codes daily, only to put a sticky note right next to it, but he let Steven worry about that. Dressed in a cheery pink, Liam always brought a smile to Connor’s face when they shared meals or chatted between daily tasks. He was the only one he was mostly sure was truly a fellow human.
Heavy feet slapped onto the floor, indicative of only one crew member. Connor pretended to be asleep as he watched Spencer sluggishly leave their quarters. The large man didn’t make any noises as he went, and soon enough he’d departed. No one else stirred. Questions burned in Connor’s mind as to what Spencer might be doing while everyone slept, but he knew that some cycles Spencer wanted extra time to clean up. He was a dedicated worker if nothing else, but what if it was all an elaborate ruse? He could have been tucking away into electrical to split the wires or redirect power to the wrong system, and no one would have been awake to know. The thought was a familiar one, often accompanied by a cacophony of similar idle wonderings, but he wouldn’t act upon them.
Connor knew deep down he was a coward.
Had Penny always had that scuff on her suit? The thought was bothering Connor tremendously as they ate lunch. Her green waves were neatly tucked behind her ears by flower-shaped clips, revealed by her removed helmet, but otherwise, she was as fully suited as him. Her oxygen tube however was a bit roughed up, perforated even. That couldn’t be right.
“You gonna stare all day or eat your food?” Penny brought him to reality with a snark.
“Oh! Uh, sorry,” he apologized.
“I’d almost think something was wrong with your burger,” she joked further, “but you made it. Don’t think anybody snuck poison between the buns when you weren’t looking.”
“Ah leave Connor alone,” chastised Peter from across the cafeteria table. “His mind wanders often, you know that.”
“Hey I’m not the only starry-eyed astronaut here,” snickered Penny as she finished her meal. “Come on Connor, what’s on your mind? You aren’t hung up about those rumors are you?”
He gave an awkward laugh and cleared his throat. “I mean, a bit… but no, I was staring at your oxygen tube.”
“And what about it?” Penny peered down and gave an alarmed gasp. “What the? When did that happen?”
Peter squinted over with a frown. With his usual hint of superiority, he scrutinized her. “You were helping Liam in O2 earlier, weren’t you? Maybe you nicked it on the equipment, you are a bit clumsy.”
“Maybe…” she mumbled, before smiling at Connor. “I never knew a cook could have such a good eye.”
A small part of him was irked by the word, he was a proper chef, but he knew Penny meant no harm by it. So Connor smiled and winked. “I am an astronaut too, you know? You better see Robert about getting that patched up once you’re done eating though. That’s an accident waiting to happen.”
Peter voiced his agreement before gathering his tray and heading to the kitchen for disposal. Penny soon followed and gave Connor a pat on the shoulder. “Up in the cockpit I’m the first one to get spaced if we have run into an asteroid or something, thanks! I’ll let you know next time we pass a comet, I know you love watching them.”
A blush colored Connor’s pale cheeks and he smiled. “That sounds great, looking forward to it.”
With a wink of dark eyes, Penny pulled her helmet on, a plastic plant was taped to the top. She saluted him, then made her way to the cockpit. He watched her go for a few moments, before pulling on his helmet. The sound of it compressing was a relief to him. Even though he only had a limited amount of oxygen in his tank, it was a bit safer than nothing. Once fully sealed, he switched to the filter so he didn’t waste any of his tank. The recycled air was stale and cold, but it was functioning and that was what mattered.
“I’m telling you,” growled Robert, “I can’t find my lucky wrench.”
“Is it really that lucky then?” Questioned Sarah.
“Yes! As long as I have her, nothing bad can go wrong!” Rebuked Robert.
Connor rolled brown eyes. “If you lost it, it can’t be that lucky then,” he interjected. Robert squinted up at him from where he sat on the medical cot. It was a routine check that Sarah was adamant about that’d brought the pair into the medbay. Robert hadn’t stopped complaining about his wrench since.
“I’m sure you have a lucky spatula or something,” Robert grumbled, “maybe even a knife!”
“Ah, I don’t like knives much,” Connor said back with a hint of discomfort. “They’re not safe around our suits, especially loose ones. I use the built-in cutters instead.”
Robert shrugged, to which Sarah smacked his shoulder so he did not move his arm again. “Sorry,” he muttered as Sarah drew his blood. “I get that knives are a danger, a tear in our suits means death. But still, don’t you think a proper knife would be useful? Closest thing I’ve got is wire cutters.” Connor watched as blood poured into a vial with biohazard markings, curious as to just how many times Sarah would take samples. He wondered if she anticipated something would change every week.
Robert sighed with agitation, and with his free hand ruffled his golden brown dreads. “I feel like I’ve lost a best friend without my wrench.”
Sarah scoffed. “You sure your little pal didn’t sneak off with it again?” She gestured to the fondly described ‘bean-shaped’ android playing with Sarah’s own. The brown and white suited androids laughed childishly as they played chase across the medbay. Connor grimaced politely, a bit disturbed by their antics. What if one day they turned against the crew? No one would suspect such a tiny, seemingly harmless companion being capable of murder or sabotage.
“Do they breathe?”
“What?” Sarah and Robert asked in unison.
Connor’s cheeks burned. “Oh- uh- fuck I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Just uh… mulling over the er, companions.”
Sarah blinked slowly before she glanced back at the playing pair. She bit her lip in thought, brow furrowing. “No. They don’t need to at least, though they do simulate it. I’ve heard Jessie cough when a foul scent wafts by even.”
Discomforted, Connor frowned. “Why though? That’s a lot of programming to go through that isn’t entirely necessary.”
A bemused laugh finally escaped from the sour Robert. “Come on Connor, don’t pretend you don’t understand what companionship is for. It can be hard to get attached to something inhuman, or just different from what you’re used to. The closer to human something is, the easier it is for us to like them. If I never heard Sam cough or laugh or hell, cry even, it would be off-putting.”
“But they’re not human. They aren’t even made to look entirely like they are either,” argued Connor. “They’re smart, what if they get too smart?”
Sarah waved him off and adjusted her hijab. It was as stark white as her suit, a beautiful contrast to her darker skin. Oftentimes Connor caught himself thinking of how beautiful she was, only to scold himself that such attractions were inappropriate. Even worse, he might just lower his guard if he thought Sarah was someone he could trust based on looks alone. She clicked her tongue. “Connor, why are you so paranoid?”
A fist clenched and teeth gritted. “I’m just being pragmatic.”
“Trust me, I’m familiar with their coding. Sam and Jessie there aren’t any threat to us beyond distracting adorableness,” Robert cut in. He patted the open space on the medical cot and Sam immediately ran towards him. It was a bit difficult for the small android to climb up, hands reaching and legs bouncing on tiptoes. Robert picked up the android and rested it next to him. “Come on, look at him!”
The faint sight of innocent eyes snuck through the glass of Sam’s helmet. Connor stared for a few moments before he looked away. It felt like looking at any child, innocent and kind, and above all trusting. “Sarah, can we hurry this up please? I need to prepare dinner,” Connor asked gruffly. Sarah blinked and then nodded. “Thanks.”
“I see you’ve taken to eating alone,” Liam’s cheery voice cut through the dark thoughts Connor was mulling over.
He started at the unexpected arrival and covered his mouth to muffle his scream. “Liam! Hi- hello!”
“Jeez you’re jumpy today huh?” Liam settled onto the seat across from him, his tray clacking all too loudly for Connor's preference. "Something happen?"
"No, no," Connor said, averting his gaze. "That's what has me on edge."
Liam clicked his tongue, took off his helmet, and began to eat his food. "Come on man," he sighed, "shouldn't that be a good thing? You're gonna work yourself up into a fit and Sarah will chew your ears off."
Relenting, Connor gave a nod. "You're right."
"Course I'm right," Liam grinned, "I'm the smartest man on this ship." The post-it note on his helmet with the word 'Dum' seemed to point to the contrary, but Connor didn't remark.
Laughter bubbled free, filling the formerly heavy space between them. "I'm not so sure about that. Thanks though."
"I've got your back," Liam reassured.
"And I've got yours."
A few minutes passed of them enjoying their meal. It was a simple one, pizza, but it was a favored staple on the ship. When Connor had held a poll to see what food he should prepare at the start of the voyage, it had almost been unanimous. Connor frowned as he remembered the only person to say they hated the sliced deliciousness; Garry. Was that a sign of being an imposter?
The possibility was overwhelming, as a handful of other abnormal characteristics seemed just enough to question. Garry had requested some time to do maintenance in the kitchen today. He had also requested Connor oversee him, citing he wanted to make sure not to disturb his environment. Sweat trickled down his spine and his breathing shortened. Liam was reaching over to him, saying something.
A door opened across the way, and the purple-clad mechanic came in. He had a strange meal on his tray, dark and leafy, instead of pizza. He always made his own meal when it was on the menu as if he utterly refused to eat it. Why? It seemed ridiculous, almost insulting even. Connor worked hard on every meal, yet Garry snubbed him. Garry had snubbed him all week in fact.
Garry was approaching him. Connor froze in his seat. Brown eyes fixated on the meal on Garry's tray. It was an exotic fruit from Polus, the new research colony. How had he even gotten one of those? Garry had never been to Polus, according to his crew log. There hadn't been any in the manifest either. "Hey," Garry greeted, "are we still good for later?"
"You two got plans?" Liam asked with an arched brow.
"Yes." No further explanation came. Liam scoffed. "So?"
Would refusing to make Garry suspect him? Connor only saw one option for now. "Yes."
"Good." Then without another word, Garry spun around and went to an empty table to eat.
Connor blinked at Liam, mouth working silently over the same fearful statement. Finally, it squeaked out. "I think it’s Garry."
Without an ounce of hesitation, Liam got up from the table. "We need to see Steven, now." Connor mutely nodded and followed.
The static screen of the camera feeds washed out all the color from Steven's cyan suit. It didn't wash out the dark crimson that pooled beneath his chair, dripping into the puddle one thick drop at a time. A low roar concealed the sound. It only muffled the gurgling from the wrench smashed into Steven's throat, suit torn open and flesh exposed.
Connor doubled over and puked, only smacking the release on his helmet just in time. Liam was completely still at his side. "What the fuck?" Gasped Connor when he was done.
"We need to report this," Liam said, voice distant. He was still staring at the screens.
"To who? Who can we trust?"
"No one," replied Liam as he took a few steps forward. There was a shuffling noise in the corner and they both peered to the far side, expecting to see the killer. Only an empty office met them, a few bloody steps trailing off to the vent on the floor. The screws looked recently tampered with, one of them not even fully back in.
The creak of a chair turning made Connor jump. Liam had turned Steven around. The clear visor of his helmet had been smashed in, shards of thick glass embedded in his pale flesh. It was so damaged the only way they could be sure it was even Steven was by the color of his suit, and the lapels on his shoulders. Connor nearly puked again at the grizzly image.
"Is there any evidence?" He whispered as he turned away, unable to look anymore.
A few keys clacked as Liam checked. The wait was unbearable, part of Connor thinking some beast was going to come crawling out of the vent and gobble them whole. Finally, Liam cleared his throat. "The cameras around the ship have been damaged. The one outside has only half a view, but if I play it back a… few minutes…" He trailed off.
Connor held his breath, waiting. Liam gasped. Unable to resist, Connor looked. A shoulder passed by, just barely visible. It was purple.
Garry.
"I hope you realize how serious of an accusation this is," Peter said in his most serious tone. The air in the cafeteria was oppressive, weighing down as if Steven's ghost haunted them, baying for justice. Connor couldn't meet Garry's furious gaze. Everyone was staring at the accused, disgust and caution plain to see. Sarah seemed the most alarmed, looking over her autopsy report. The body was in the medbay, secured where no one could tamper with it. Only Peter and Sarah had access, something that brought a bit of relief to Connor.
"I know," he said.
"We have evidence," Liam replied. "The camera footage."
"Anyone could've worn my suit," Garry defended himself.
Robert slapped a hand on the table. "You used my wrench! I told you it was missing just today, didn't I Sarah? Connor?"
The doctor and chef gave slow nods. The companions, the androids, were playing on the edges of the cafeteria, blissfully unaware of what was going on. If only Steven had had one, maybe it could've been an eyewitness. "Out of anyone, Garry has the easiest chance to steal it," Sarah added.
Garry puffed up, snarling. His hands were shaking. "Why would I steal his wrench? I hate that thing, it has a horrible grip. My hand slips anytime I've used it."
"You've used it?" Penny asked accusingly. She was chewing on her green hair, trying to calm herself no doubt.
"Only ever with Robert," Garry stated firmly. They looked at the jumpsuit-wearing crewmate, who nodded. "Besides, you said you saw bloody footprints. My boots are clean!" He lifted his feet dramatically one at a time, and truly as he said they weren't bloody. Everyone checked their own feet. Only Liam's had a hint of blood from investigating the body.
"You could have swapped boots," Argo proposed, "just as likely as someone stealing your suit."
"But only a few people fit his suit," countered Liam. "And obviously I didn't do this. Peter is the captain. That only leaves Robert." Connor momentarily glanced down at his plumper body, relieved almost it ruled him out of this crime.
The mechanic scoffed and shook his head. "On top of actually liking Steven, being a good man, and loathing violence, I would never do this to Darlene!"
The crew blinked. Penny spoke up first. "Who?"
"Darlene! My lucky wrench!"
Spencer sighed in a rare bit of commentary. "Yes, very lucky."
Robert nearly blew a fuse. "Don't you talk about Darlene like that! She's been through enough today!"
A frown crawled across Sarah's face as if she had smelled rotting food. "You care more about Darlene than Steven? A man is dead, Rob!" She threw down a photo of the crime scene. The way the flash had washed out the already disgusting sight made Connor's stomach churn. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, slowly breathing to calm himself.
"Captain," Argo spoke up after an extended silence. "What do we do?"
Peter rubbed his brow. There was no supremacy in his voice when he spoke next, only blatant grief. "We secure him in the airlock. It's the closest thing we have to a holding cell."
"What!" Garry shouted. "One push of a button and I'm dead!"
"And we'll be sure no one pushes it unjustifiably. Spencer, you will guard him at all times. The evidence is… it points to you, Garry. You and Rob are the only two who can use the vent system like that. Rob not only wouldn't use Darlene as a murder weapon but he's been with Sarah all day. Liam was with Connor and found the body."
"He could've self-reported it! Throw me under the ship!"
"The security office camera footage timestamp makes that impossible," Sarah spoke up. "My autopsy shows the body had expired only twenty minutes prior to discovery. That's enough time for you to kill him, use the vents to reach the crew quarters, and change. That's not enough time for Liam to have done the same and shared lunch with Connor."
A snarl cut through the air. "Look at me. I said look at me! If you're going to damn me at least have the balls to look me in the eyes!"
Connor startled, realizing Garry was speaking to him. The gentle touch of Liam's hand on his shoulder comforted the fluttering anxiety. "I've got you," promised the O2 specialist.
Emboldened, Connor swallowed his fear. "Where did you get that fruit?"
Once more the crew deadpanned in confusion. "What?" Garry rasped.
"The fruit you brought with you into the cafeteria at lunch. It's a Polus import. It's not in our supplies at all," Connor pushed, his palms sweating but voice clear.
An accusatory finger pointed at Penny. The plant-obsessed pilot bristled. "No, I didn't!"
"Yes, you did! This morning!"
"Bullshit! I have been charting our course with the captain since I woke up! And even if I wasn't, I wouldn't give you anything from my private terrarium!" Her face had gone red. Connor blinked as he remembered she had such a thing up near the O2 systems. He hadn’t realized she was growing Polus fruit. A pit formed in his gut at just what else he might not know about his crewmates.
Garry slammed his hands on the table. Everyone tensed, expecting him to attack. "You did! You said you felt bad I have no friends and wanted to make me feel more welcome!"
"You're right that I feel bad for you, but I never give my fruits to jerks like you. You've been mean to me all voyage!"
"Because you're a stuck-up bi-"
"Enough!" Peter shouted. "This is only making you look worse, Garry. Spencer, take him to the airlock." The sanitation specialist took an aggressively tight hold on Garry's arm, dragging the resisting man along. The others watched on. His screams shifted from rage to terror with every inch he drew nearer. Connor was glad for the silencing effect of the airlock door shutting. Garry banged on the window.
Peter called for a vote, a tablet in the center. It was anonymous. It was also unanimous. The captain gave a stiff nod and cycled the airlock. Garry clung to the door handle for as long as he could, the vacuum of space pulling at him. Silent screams filled Connor's ears, phantoms of the truth. Garry held on for nearly fifteen seconds.
Then he was gone.
In the back of Connor’s mind, he couldn’t help but wonder. What if there were two of them? Worse yet. What if they were wrong?