I blink.

The first thing I see is light; which is reassuring, because it means I’m not dead, and that we managed to escape whatever that Kraken-thing was.

“Oh goodness.” A frail hand grabs my own. “You’re awake.” Turning towards the shrill voice, I try to blink away the multi-colored dots that blur my vision. “You shouldn’t move yet,” Laurine tells me.

“Why?” I ask her.

Laurine bites her lip. She looks to the side. Her palm travels to mine. She gives my hand a squeeze before letting go. “It’s…” she mutters. “It’s your leg. We didn’t know how to… There was nothing we could—”

My eyes go wide. I lean on my elbows and push against my weight. “No.” My breaths grow heavy as my eyes dart to my feet. My stomach churns at the sight of nothing where something was supposed to be. Laurine rests her palm against my shoulder. Nausea grabs me by the throat. I cover my mouth. Her gaze meets mine. I shake my head. Thankfully, Laurine immediately understands. She runs to the opposite side of the infirmary and comes back with a plastic bag, handing it to me and hitting her knee against the bed in the process.

“Sorry,” I blurt as I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and zip the now weighty bag.

Gently, Laurine urges me back onto the bed. “I know it’s easier said than done,” she says, “but you need to calm down.”

“But, my leg—" I cry as my eyes snap to various corners of the infirmary in hopes of finding an answer, a replacement for this mess. “It’s gone!” I shake her. “Laurine, my leg, it’s—” I pause. My lips part. “Wait,” I say, grabbing her wrist as a different kind of panic threatens to choke me. “What about my brother? What about Maxwell? Is he okay?”

Laurine smiles. “You saved him. No damage was done.”

“None at all?”

She shakes her head. “None. Unless you count minor scratches, but,” she snickers, “I’m sure he’ll get over it.”

My hold around her skin weakens. “Sorry,” I echo, before letting go entirely.

“Laurine,” I try again, before the room has a chance to settle into a comfortable curtain of silence. watching as our technical engineer jumps in her boots.

“Y-yes?”

“What’s going to happen to me now?”

She takes a seat. For a moment, it’s like we’re back on Earth, like when she first treated me years ago. But when my gaze meets with the end of her stool, the screws that hold it in place, all hammered to the floor—the undeniable truth that we might never be back returns like a daunting whisper that refuses to leave.

“Well,” she clears her throat, “what do you want to do?”

I press my palms together. “To be frank, I don’t think I have the luxury of choice here.”

“That’s not true,” she says.

“Laurine…” I sigh. “Laurine, let’s be realistic here. I won’t be able to walk anymore. And I can’t always rely on someone to help me out. We’re understaffed as it is, especially after losing Howard, and...”

She raises a brow. “And?”

“All those people,” I say. “I wish we could have saved—"

“Well,” Laurine chimes. “I certainly can’t build you a leg. But, what I certainly can do, is build you a wheelchair.”

I pause.

How I would like to say yes…

“Our ship wasn’t meant to transport burdens.”

She gasps. “Don’t say that. You’re not a—"

“I am now,” I snap. “And how would wheelchairs even work on foreign planets? We’d need to adjust it accordingly so that it would both hold me, not float away, and be versatile all the same. And if you focus on that, it would take months. Meanwhile, the whole team will sink. We need you to fix the ship, Laurine, not me. This isn’t what they hired you to do.”

“I wasn’t hired to be flung to the other side of space, either, Vance.” Laurine presses her palms into her lap and looks to her knees. “And yet, here we are,” she says.

I tilt my head. “The other side of space? What… what are you talking about?”

“Oh, right.” Her shoulders slug. “Of course you wouldn’t know...” Laurine clutches the fabric of pants. “We’re off the radar,” she says.

The room’s spotlight suddenly feels much too hot against my skin. “No,” I say. “No, it’s not possible! That thing went on for miles, it would detect us even if we were at the edge of our solar system, we couldn’t have—"

“We did, Vance.” Her voice is stern. “Maxwell managed to get the emergency power back on, and it’s official, we’re off the radar.”

Her words echo against the walls.

Chest heaving up, then down, my lips purse into a thin line. “So, what you’re saying is,” I start, “I’m missing a leg, we’re missing our best man, and there’s no way for us to call for help?”

“Affirmative.”

“What about Luenos? Maxwell didn’t—"

“No.” Jaw rested against her palm, she groans. “Geez, no.” Laurine rolls her eyes. “Nobody touched your precious Luenos, so calm down already. He’s taking a nap in your cabin. That’s all.”

“Oh,” I say, slightly taken aback by her outburst. “Right, sorry.”

“It’s fine. But can I ask you a question? A serious question?”

“Sure.” I shrug, regretting the movement as pain spirals up my back and my breaths are cut in two. “Go ahead.”

“Must we keep him on this ship?”

I raise a brow. “Why wouldn’t we?”

“It’s just…” Laurine clasps her palms together. She shifts in her seat. “He’s making everyone uneasy. And now that Howard’s gone, they fear he might try to take over—"

“Try to take over?” I cringe. “Try to take over what? Please don’t tell me you actually believe…”

Laurine scratches her neck.

She averts my gaze.

“Wait, seriously?” I ask her.

“I… I believe we can’t know for sure,” she tells me. “We’re not all as easily trusting as you are.”

“Okay,” I say. “So, it’s safe to assume you’re on their side?”

Laurine groans. “I’m not on anyone’s side, Vance. I just want to do what’s best for the crew so that we can get everybody home to their families, and loved ones, without a fight breaking out. Without us going crazy. And without any more people dying. And if all it takes for this to happen is to kick that thing out—”

“Laurine!” I shout, my words intertwined with the anger I’d bottled up for months. “He isn’t a thing.”

“His name,” I say, “is Luenos.”

“Yes, right, Luenos.” She clears her throat again, leans in, and slides her palm over mine. “Got it. But, if we must kick Luenos out, an alien who wasn’t even part of this mission to begin with in order to survive, then I believe it is in our best interests to do so.”

“But…” But what? I think as I try to find words that won’t come to mind. Because I know she’s right… “But I don’t think it’s fair,” I say.

Laurine crosses her arms. “Nothing’s fair in this world.” She scoffs. “My husband was just devoured by a space-kraken.”

“You’re taking it rather well.”

“I can either take it well and grieve later. Or let everybody, including myself, die; as my children wait for my return on Earth forever. Now,” Laurine stands. She gives the only knee I have left two short pats. “It’s your turn to make a choice.” Taking a step back, she turns around and walks to the infirmary’s exit. Inches away from transparent shelves, filled with packs of disorganised medicine, Laurine runs a finger along its frame.

“Your crew,” she says, “or the alien?”