< Vance. >

I press a palm to my forehead.

My bangs are soaked.

< Vance? Are you awake, are you okay? >

A weak smile takes my lips as I stretch my fingers and find them all in their rightful places. I hate that my first reflex is laughter, for my lungs are immediately caught by a fit of violent coughs. As a sharp pain stabs me in the ribs, I cringe and say: “That’s a good question.”

Luenos growls. He dashes to my side and wraps his claws around my wrist in what I assume is an attempt to check my pulse. The taste of acid lingers on my tongue. I sniffle and frown. My attention is brought downward by a similar stench that now covers my clothes.

“Holy shit,” I gasp.

Luenos tilts his head. < I believe that is actually vomit, Vance. Would it be correct for me to assume your vision is failing? >

I groan. “For the last time, Luenos, ‘shit’ doesn’t always refer to feces… we went over this the other day.”

He doesn’t reply; instead, he just looks at me. Or, well, I assume he’s looking at me; as the gill-like ears on the side of his face twitch. Echolocation… truly, what a marvellous skill.

< What are you thinking about? > Luenos asks me.

“Nothing,” I hum, glancing at the ceiling, at the shine of metallic silvers revealed by the emergency lights. “Sometimes, I wonder what it’s like to be you.”

He turns to the shelves, that are hammered to the walls with more bolts than I can count, and says: < There is no need to wonder, because it will never happen. >

Our provisions are scattered across the dock’s floor. I rub a bump near my temple that throbs in tune with my heart. Looking to a can that lies at my feet, I think: Guess that explains this…

Pushing wavy strands from my eyes, I laugh once more at the absurdity of the situation. Then I cough again, and I curse the pain that spreads throughout my limbs.

Automatic doors open.

Laurine runs in. She nudges Luenos away with her shoulder and kneels next to me. “Vance!” she cries.

Her gaze lingers over my injury, over the puddle of vomit that sits at my feet. Amber curls cascade over her shoulders instead of her usual neat bun. Laurine’s sapphire eyes dart across the room. “Vance…” Her features grow grim. She pauses. “Where… Where’s Howard?”

“I…” I bite my lip. “I don’t know,” I say, gritting my teeth as a better state of consciousness dawns on me, and splinters of pain jab at my aching back. “I wish I could—”

“Are you serious right now?” Someone shouts from behind us.

Maxwell.

Brows hiding his gaze, face flushed in a fit of fury, Maxwell stomps towards us and looks at me from above. “Answer me, Vance.” Maxwell’s shoulders deflate. His nostrils flare, as he shuts his eyes, before screaming again. “Did you really let Howard die? God damn it, Vance, this was supposed to be a simple exploration mission, are you being serious right—”

“Max,” Laurine cries. Her nails dig into her palms and render her knuckles to whites. “We don’t know for sure that he’s—”

“Can it, sweetheart.”

“Maxwell, don’t talk to her like—”

“Like what, Vance? Like we’re all fucked because of the shit decisions you made? Do you realize Howard was it? Not to mention the number of losses we suffered because of that flying fucker.” Maxwell kicks at an empty can lying at his feet. It goes flying into a wall and lands with a miserable clunk. “Nobody’s going to be able to fix this huge piece of junk,” he says, motioning to the ship’s interior. “It’s over. We’re never getting to Mars now.”

My stomach drops. “Stop it, that’s not true,” I tell him, surprised by how much my voice shakes. “We still have—”

“Yeah. You’re absolutely right, brother.” Palms pressed to his hips, Maxwell laughs. It is the laugh of a desperate, broken man. He points to Luenos. “We still have this bag of shit right here.”

I see red.

Blood pulses within my ears. Pushing myself up, I hold my arms out in front of Luenos and shield him from Maxwell’s wrath with my body.

The edges of my vision blur. But I cannot back down. Not when he’s having one of his stupid tantrums, and especially not while the rest of the crew members are watching in the background.

“Don’t call him that,” I say, praying my legs will hold out until the end of our conversation. “Luenos did nothing wrong. He’s just as confused as we are.”

Maxwell snorts. His arms fall back to his sides. “You know, I’d like to believe that,” he tells me, “but since you’re the only one who’s been able to speak with him during these past few weeks — how can I be sure he hasn’t brainwashed you?”

Stunned by his words, I part my lips and take a step back. “Because he hasn’t!” I shout. “What is wrong with you? Luenos would never—”

Hands balled into fists, Maxwell looks at his shoes. “Then tell me why, Vance,” he mutters beneath his breath before raising his voice. “Why the fuck didn’t you throw this fucker outside, and tell him to deal with his fucking kind, instead of sending our commander out there to die?” Maxwell turns to face the crew. He spares a glance Laurine’s way before laughing again. “That’s right!” he says, throwing his arms into the air. “He’s dead, guys. The space-kraken got him. And we’re all going to die, too.”

Whispers from the thirty survivors fill the room as neutral faces turn to frowns, and frowns into expressions of fear.

Maxwell smirks.

“Hold on a minute,” I blurt.

They grow quiet.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Stop. Stop it,” I say. “We’re not going to die! We’re going to figure it out. And I promise you that—”

Maxwell takes a step forward and grabs me by the collar. “Your promises don’t mean shit.” He shakes me. Hard. “Your promises got us here.”

I can’t breathe.

Gasping for air, I shove a hand in his face and try to pry him off. But Maxwell refuses to let go.

Screeches of metal, steel detaching itself from steel, scream from behind our backs.

The ship dips sideways. The lights flicker once more. We tumble to the floor and roll towards the doors. As we continue to fight, throwing punches and jabs at each other’s noses, the crew parts in order to let us pass.

“Maxwell! Vance!” Laurine cries. “Watch out!”

My head snaps to the right.

Crap.

Shadows from both sides of the doorway loom over our figures.

They’re closing.

Distracted by Laurine’s desperate protests, Maxwell’s hold loosens around my shirt as he turns to face her voice.

Without giving it a second thought, I push him out of the way. However, by the time I try to crawl out in turn, it is already too late.

The doors slam shut on my leg. My bones crack. A sharp pain travels throughout my limbs as my arteries are ripped from my thigh and torn into pieces of mashed flesh.

A twisted scream of agony pierces the now silent room. I cannot recognise it as my own. Yet, my lips are parted, and my throat hurts; and they are all looking at me as if I were crazy.

Was it mine?

The room spins.

My head hits the floor once more.

I think someone touches my hand, but there is no way for me to verify, for when I blink again there is nothing. And I wonder: Is this the nothing Luenos must face every day?