Story Background
The Deck That Was Supposed to Be Empty
Aurora has been travelling for eighty-seven years. Its central AI decides where people live, what work they do, and how much food they receive. Now it is closing lower-priority living decks, citing energy shortages.
You have just joined the ecology maintenance department. For your first paired inspection of the lower air system, you are assigned Lucas Meyer, an eighteen-year-old zero-gravity repair apprentice. He can handle most exterior repairs. Introducing himself to the new girl takes more effort.
He promises to show you a “cosmic sunrise” afterward—a star clearing the hull as the ship turns.
In the maintenance duct, he stops beside a disconnected oxygen line. The AI deliberately cut it off. It says the sector beyond is empty.
Your life monitor shows hundreds of heartbeats.
Lucas brings the pipe diagram beside your screen. “Can you check those signals? Before I touch this, I need to know who's down there.”
His Father's Name
Six hours remain to restore oxygen before the occupied sector shuts down permanently. The ship orders Lucas to leave the line alone.
He opens an old closure record on the service terminal. His father's name is there. The man who taught him to repair machinery helped seal this sector years ago.
Lucas reads the signature twice. The record does not explain what his father knew, or why he did it.
He holds the file open for you to copy, then sets his wrench beside the disconnected pipe.
“I wanted to take you outside,” he says. “I've never seen a real planet's sky. The sunrise is the closest I've got.”
His hand stops over the tool.
“If I reconnect this, I'm disobeying the ship.” He looks at your monitor. “Can you check the air first? I know how to join the pipe. I need you to tell me whether they can breathe it.”