Starwalker

Ship's log, 07:30, 14 July 2214
Location: Sarabande Station, near the Cerces black hole
Status: Docked and powered down

Lang Lang is awake! I couldn’t believe it when I heard the doctor’s message to the captain (yes, I was peeking, but that’s not important right now).

Of course, the first thing I did was break into the Med Bay’s sensor feeds. There she was, sitting up and looking around, pale but smiling. My navigator. My crewmember who has been silent and sleeping for far too long. I can’t believe how much I’ve missed seeing her.

Elliott is repairing my systems, getting my pieces back online. Lang Lang feels like another one of those pieces. There’s light and movement and sound where there was nothing before. There’s a part of me that’s alive again.

Do all of my crew affect me this way? Is that why it hurts so much when I lose one of them?

Will I feel this way if Cameron wakes up too? She’s still sleeping under a blanket of sensors and medications. Is she a part of me, too?

Oh, speaking of Elliott…

Location: Engineering

ELLIOTT: Hey, Starry?

(The engineer is standing over the immersion couch in the middle of the main floor of Engineering. A series of lights on the edge of the couch are blinking, most of them green but one of them red.)

STARRY: (voice only) Yup?

ELLIOTT: (frowning) You sound cheerful.

STARRY: Lang Lang just woke up!

ELLIOTT: (brightening) Really?

STARRY: Yup.

ELLIOTT: Well, that’s, yeah, great. She’s gonna be okay?

STARRY: Looks like it. She’s not fully functional yet but she’s out of the woods now. (She pauses.) What does that mean, out of the woods?

ELLIOTT: (shrugs) No idea. Just one of those weird phrases, I guess.

STARRY: Yeah. So, what can I do for you?

ELLIOTT: There’s something weird going on with this couch. It disabled itself.

STARRY: Oh. That was me.

ELLIOTT: (frowns again) Why?

STARRY: I’m only at 78% capacity. My internal systems aren’t stable enough–

ELLIOTT: They’re fine.

STARRY: For me to handle, sure. But not for–

ELLIOTT: It’s fine!

STARRY: I barely have room for my own processing, never mind additional–

ELLIOTT: (scowls) Fuck it, then. Never mind. (Turns and stomps off.)

STARRY: Elliott…

He’s gone. I’m not sure what just happened. I’m not stable enough to handle visitors right now! It’s too dangerous for him to be in there.

I don’t even know what he was going to try to fix in there; I need to get all of my hardware up and running again before we start getting my internals in order. I’d ask him in case it’s something he’s worried about and I can start work on it, but he has gone to slam around in the Mess Hall. He doesn’t eat nearly often enough, so I won’t disturb him. Maybe I’ll ask him when he has calmed down.

In the meantime, Casper is heading his way to give him a helping hand or four. Probably when he least expects it.

He has been so focussed on his work lately. Of all of my people, he has been the least affected by the ghosts, and I wonder if that’s because of all the repairs. He knows that my holographic projectors aren’t online yet, so he knows that if he sees me, it’s just a ghost. So maybe that makes it easier?

I wonder if he sees anyone else. He hasn’t mentioned anything and I haven’t seen him have conversations when he was alone. Not like my other crew; I see them talking to empty air sometimes. I have to remind them gently that there’s no-one there and most of the time I think they already know. It’s like they can’t help themselves. Even the doctor trips over his ghosts, though he talks to them the least of everyone. But not Elliott.

Should I be worried about him? He spends the most time alone. He’s the only one who sleeps on board me at the moment, and I have to watch over him carefully. There are still some instabilities in my systems that I have to iron out, but I can keep things steady enough to support him. It’s only one section that I need to maintain, after all.

Maybe I should ask the captain to look in on him. Check on the Elliott-ghost situation, just in case there’s something he hasn’t been telling me. In case he has been pretending that everything is all right, like he always does.

Anyway. This morning is about good news. It’s about getting my navigator back. So I’m going to focus on that.

Station sensors: live feed
Station location: Med Bay

(The room is quiet, the lighting bright over all but one bed. On the darkened bed, Chief Cameron lies prone, her body covered by a blanket. On the opposite side of the room, Lang Lang is sitting up, propped up by the angle of the bed and a couple of pillows. A blanket covers her lower half and she has both hands wrapped around a cup. The holographic display on the wall above her bed is showing green and orange outputs, but no warnings.

The doctor is sitting at his desk, flipping through a report, but he rises when the doors swish open.)

CAPTAIN: (strides into the Med Bay, hesitates to look for the doctor, then heads to the foot of Lang Lang’s bed. He has a smile ready for her.) Good morning, Navigator Cartier.

DR SOCKS: (joins the captain at the foot of the bed.)

LANG LANG CARTIER: (lifts her head with a weary smile. Her hands drift down to rest the cup on her lap.) Captain! It’s good to see you.

CAPT: And you. How are you feeling?

LANG LANG: A little strange. Dr Valdimir says I’m doing good, though.

CAPT: (glances queryingly at the doctor.)

DR SOCKS: (nods) Her dermal repairs are complete and most of her injuries has been fixed up now. Her left leg is still being reconstructed; the exposure damage was extensive.

LANG LANG: When you described how badly it was hurt, I thought you were going to tell me that I’d lost it.

DR SOCKS: It was close, but I managed to save it. You’ve come through the trauma better than expected.

CAPT: (smiles approvingly) Good work, doctor. (To the patient,) Has he explained our current situation?

LANG LANG: (nods slowly) Dr Valdimir explained that we’re on a space station. Starry is getting repaired?

CAPT: Yes, Monaghan is working all hours to get her fixed, much like the doctor has been doing here with you and the Chief.

STARRY: (voice only) I’m here, Lang Lang.

LANG LANG: (expression brightening) You’re in the station now?

STARRY: Not really; I hacked it a little bit. Have to keep an eye on my people. It’s good to see you awake.

LANG LANG: It’s good to be awake. Especially after the dreams I’ve been having.

DR SOCKS: (frowning) You were dreaming?

LANG LANG: (shrugs carefully) I think so.

CAPT: (glances sharply at the doctor.)

DR SOCKS: (exchanges an unsettled look with the captain.)

Why is he making that face about Lang Lang dreaming? Is she not supposed to have been doing that while she was asleep? I guess that if she was in a coma, she should have been down too deep for a regular sleep cycle. What about when she was coming out of it? Surely she had to pass through that state to get to consciousness?

I should look over my files on this stuff. It seems like something a ship should probably know.

But judging by the doctor’s expression, the idea of dreams is a concerning one. Why would he–

Oh. That’s right; they think that the phenomenon here is caused by some kind of psionic influence. Something is pulling the memories of people out of human brains and projecting them back as if they’re real. So what would that kind of psionic effect do to a sleeping brain? No-one has reported weird or unusual dreams, and I haven’t seen any reports of that from the station’s archives yet. I’ll run a search to be sure.

But what about Lang Lang? Did she talk to ghosts in her sleep? Did she see behind the curtain?

DR SOCKS: (coming up alongside the bed towards Lang Lang) Can you tell us what the dreams were about?

LANG LANG: (tilts her head thoughtfully) It’s a bit hazy, but… in the one I had the most, there was a presence. I couldn’t really see it, but it was big. It was like… I could hear it but it was talking from very far away, so I couldn’t make out the words. It reminded me of…

DR SOCKS: (when she trails off) Reminded you of what?

LANG LANG: You may think this is silly. It reminded me of when I was small and my parents would take me on shuttle runs. I’d doze off, asleep but hearing their voices. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the sound of their voices was… soothing.

DR SOCKS: Can you tell us anything about this presence? What was its tone of voice? Was it soothing too?

LANG LANG: No, not really. It sounded like it was calling out. I tried to hear it, but I just couldn’t, like every time I tried to get closer it would slip further away. Like the opposite of those dreams where something is chasing you, but no matter how fast you run, you can’t get away. And sometimes…

DR SOCKS: (quietly) Sometimes?

LANG LANG: I thought it sounded like it was in pain, or sad, or very, very tired.

DR SOCKS: Do you know why?

LANG LANG: (shakes her head) No. All I got was the feeling from it. And that it was trying to talk to me. (Her gaze drifts past the doctor, towards the back of the Med Bay, and she blinks curiously.)

DR SOCKS: (doesn’t turn to see what she’s looking at.)

CAPT: (glances over) Oh, that’s… (He looks at the doctor.) Have you explained the situation here?

DR SOCKS: Not yet. Don’t panic, Ms Cartier, but you’ll see a lot of people around here who are not actually here.

LANG LANG: (looks confused) What do you mean?

Now they have to explain about the ghosts. Poor Lang Lang, to wake from strange dreams into a stranger reality.

But she’s awake and that’s the important thing. And maybe her dreams will give us a clue about what’s behind the ghosts. Maybe the captain has a point and we need to be looking for the purpose of the ghostly visitations.

I wish I could talk to the ghosts. There’s so much data that I can’t even perceive. It’s so unfair.

Lang Lang seems to be taking the ghost situation well. She takes all manner of strange things in her stride, or maybe she’s just too tired to know how to react. She’s resting now, leaning back and dozing, and the captain has drawn Dr Valdimir aside to talk about her condition. I guess she has a way to go before she’s back on her feet and running around.

CAPT: (quietly, standing near the doctor’s desk at the rear of the Med Bay) …long do you think it’ll take?

DR SOCKS: (quietly) She needs to rest and get her strength back. She should be on her feet by tomorrow and able to move around. I’d like to keep an eye on her for at least that long.

CAPT: (nods) All right. And what’s the news on Chief Cameron?

DR SOCKS: (shakes his head slowly) The same. I’ve tried everything I know of but there’s still no brain activity. Her brain was just too damaged by the blood loss and oxygen starvation.

CAPT: Are you saying there’s no more you can do?

DR SOCKS: I can keep her body alive as long as you like, but I can’t bring her back, captain. I think it’s time to call it.

CAPT: (looks over at the resting Lang Lang) Not yet. Keep trying, even unlikely solutions. And if anyone asks, you tell them you’re still trying. Lang Lang deserves a celebration. I think we all need it. We can deal with the Chief later. (He sighs, looking at Cameron’s darkened bed.) She would understand.

DR SOCKS: (nods and frowns, but he looks more thoughtful than unhappy with the decision) She’ll stay on life support until I get your order. I’ll… keep trying.

CAPT: (claps the doctor on the shoulder) Thank you, Dr Valdimir. You’ve done good work here.

DR SOCKS: (looks surprised) Uh, my pleasure, captain.

CAPT: (nods and strides off.)

So I gain one only to lose the other. My Chief of Security probably won’t be coming back. Maybe. Most likely. Solid, reliable Cameron, who gave her life to save me, save the rest of my crew. What am I going to do without her?

The captain is right; we can’t dwell on that right now. We can’t give up. Lang Lang is alive and awake and will get better. That’s what we need to focus on right now. That’s what we need to celebrate. So I’ll keep that little secret, too.

I have let Rosie and the Lieutenant know she’s awake, and they’re heading down to see her now. They’re walking with more energy than they’ve had for a while, lifted by the news. That’s how it should be. We should all be brighter today.

They’ve left little Sara in the Visitor’s Lounge, watched over by her nanny-bot. I wish they’d taken her with them now; I think they should all be together. I’d send Elliott along to visit too, but he has his grumpy face on. Maybe later. Maybe soon.

While they do that, I wonder if I can sort out some kind of welcome home for my navigator. How often do my people get to have a celebration?

Just letting everyone know that the issue with the comments is fixed now. Many thanks to everyone who emailed me to let me know – I wasn’t getting any errors on my end, so I had no idea!

You should all be able to comment again as normal. Thanks for your patience.

Now, back to writing!

Captain's log, 06:00, 14 July 2214
Location: Sarabande Station, near the Cerces black hole
Status: Docked and powered down
Log location: Captain's cabin

This is Captain Warwick reporting on the situation on Sarabande Station. We located and spoke with Acting Station Commander Marlo Iggulden yesterday, and I have been up most of the night trying to work out what to make of the things he told us.

The challenge is picking the useful information out of his ramblings, theories, and random soliloquies. He has been alone with his ghosts for some time and while he seems to have adjusted to it fairly successfully, the adjustment has given him some… quirks.

The first thing we asked was about other people on the station. Iggulden says that he hasn’t seen anyone directly for some time (he refused to be more specific than ‘some time’), but he believes there are a few people still alive somewhere. He was surprised to hear that Sara was all right, so I’m not sure how much faith to put in his opinion about this.

I think he shut himself away from the station’s population some months ago and wasn’t witness to their fates.

That was as much help as he was able to give about the rest of the station’s personnel. Starry is still trying to locate the life signs on the station’s sensors; there are two left she has yet to identify. So far, Iggulden and Sara are the only two people she has found; the rest have turned out to be animals. I don’t know what to hope for from the last two life signs. Is there anyone who will be able to help us?

According to what he told us, the station’s personnel never tracked down the source of the delusions. They came to the same conclusions that we did: that they are all linked to people on the station, that a strong emotional connection is required, and that the hallucinations are shared. They investigated many of the same avenues we thought about: some kind of signal or projection; a virus that might infect cerebral implants; or substances in the food, air, and water. They monitored everything in the environment and came up with nothing. The implant idea was scrapped once it was clear that even those without them were affected, which we’ve confirmed with young Sara. She sees and interacts with ghosts freely, including one we believe was her mother, and scans reveal that she doesn’t have a single implant in her.

There were many theories held by those on board the station, but the key fact was this: the information about the ghosts (and indeed the food and other parts of the hallucinations) was all gleaned from the minds of those affected. These are not only the ghosts of the people we remember; they are the people as we remember them. The few times when people remembered the same person led to some strange clashes that resulted in instabilities in the ghost. They apparently tried to satisfy all of the information at once, and when they couldn’t, they would flicker between remembered realities.

We haven’t seen that ourselves, but I suppose that none of the crew has been deeply attached to the same person. With so few people left on board the station, it hasn’t happened in a long time, either. But Iggulden swears that it did. Children remembering a lost parent; lovers remembering the same ex. They found the easiest way to deal with it was to avoid all being in the same room at the same time.

So whatever is doing this is taking the memories right out of our brains and monitoring our reactions to the ghosts. Potentially, the hallucinations are being projected directly into our brains as well; this would explain why there don’t seem to be any detectable changes in the environment. A purely psionic effect would seem to make sense. We don’t have the sensors to detect transmissions on whatever wavelength or medium that would be, so it’s hard to confirm, though Starry is still trying to track down something we could detect or trace.

This information eliminates some potential causes of the phenomenon, but it doesn’t bring us much closer to what the real cause is. What could possibly interact with our brains in this way? It’s outside of anything that we know is currently possible.

However, it’s not beyond the realm of feasibility that there was an experiment going on here that would redefine what we currently think of as possible. That was, after all, what we were doing with the Starwalker and the Star Step drive.

Starry’s investigations of the station’s systems haven’t revealed any hidden or locked sections that might hold orders, information, or protocols for an experiment like that. We haven’t found any traces of monitoring equipment that would be part of something like that, on or off the station.

Add to that the data Starry gleaned from her conversation with the Celestial Strider, and an experiment becomes less likely. The source of the phenomenon seems to be in the vicinity of the black hole, and our scans have not detected any equipment out there. We can pick up the Celestial Strider on our sensors just fine, and if there was anything else hovering in that area, we’d see it, too. Anything closer to the event horizon of the singularity would be sucked in.

There’s also Sara and her whale, though Dr Valdimir doesn’t know what to make of that. I asked Starry to go over logs of Sara’s habits since she has been staying in the visitor’s section with us, and it seems that she often goes to look out of the window when the black hole is in view. I don’t think it’s a coincidence.

Dr Valdimir wants to get Sara down to Med Bay for tests, to investigate the possible impacts of the psionic phenomenon on her brain. She was born here and has grown up with ghosts. It saddens me to think about what that might have done to a developing brain, to a child. Dr Valdimir said he’d look into that today.

The black hole. Every time we look into this phenomenon, the data leads us there. There’s a word that no-one has said but I think it’s on many minds right now: avatar. If Cerces was once a star, what happened to its consciousness when it collapsed in on itself? Did it ever have an avatar? Where might it be now? Could it be Sara’s whale? Is it dead?

I wish that Kess was here right now; it would be useful to have someone to ask about how it all works. We should have asked her so many more questions while she was on board, but even then, would we have known to ask about this?

There’s no benefit in wishing. Kess isn’t here and we have to do the best with what we’ve got. We know that stars have a consciousness, and that sometimes they have avatars that we can detect and interact with. We know that, once upon a time, Cerces was a star. An avatar may be involved.

So perhaps it is time for a different question. Rather than what is causing the ghosts, we should be asking: what are the ghosts for? Is there some purpose to all of this? What might an ex-star want with us?

We asked Iggulden about it, and he didn’t have any idea about a purpose behind the illusory people that clutter up his cave. He accepted them, used them where it suited him, and thought no more deeply about it. He continues to keep the station in good repair and lives a fairly comfortable life. He doesn’t seem to want anything more.

We’re not the first to ask why these ghosts are here. We’re not the first to ask the ghosts themselves why they’re here. They don’t know. I tried to talk to– the illusion of my wife. She smiled and shook her head, as if she didn’t understand the question. She’s here because I remember her, she said. She’s here so I can talk to her.

I even tried asking Sara why the ghosts were here, but she didn’t understand the question either. She just stared at me until I changed the subject.

We’re refocussing our efforts onto answering this question now. I think if we can figure out the why, we’ll know the who and how. Of course, then we have to figure out how to stop it, or what to do from there, but that’s something we’ll worry about once we have this part answered.

It feels close. It’s like we almost understand it; we just haven’t phrased the question in the right words.

In the meantime, Starry is doing a good job of keeping us in touch with reality. She’s helping us to eat properly and know the ghosts when we see them. Now that Monaghan is repairing her core systems, she’s able to help us more with the station’s resources as well.

All the same, I’m concerned about my crew. They’re all working hard at their jobs but the ghosts are taking their toll. So far, I’ve seen several illusions belonging to each of my people, in addition to my own apparitions. I don’t think they were particularly welcome visitations. I am torn between respecting my crew’s privacy and my desire to understand who these ghosts are and what they mean to my crew.

I asked Dr Valdimir to keep an eye on everyone, as he’s our psychological expert. However, I am worried about him most of all. He has two women and a man in near constant ghostly attendance, and he seems deeply unhappy around them. He is the one who ignores the ghosts most strenuously.

Who watches the watchmen? I guess that’s my job. And Starry’s, though it’s more difficult for her because she can’t see the ghosts.

So that’s where we are right now. Trying to work out why we’re surrounded by ghosts, while we get our ship repaired. And then maybe, just maybe, we can leave this place and move on.

External ship comms

DR SOCKS: (voice only) Excuse me, captain?

CAPTAIN: Yes, doctor?

DR SOCKS: You should get over to the station’s Med Bay right away.

CAPT: You found something?

DR SOCKS: No. Lang Lang Cartier just woke up.

CAPT: I’m on my way.

Now that’s the sort of news we need more of.

Captain out.

Ship's log, 16:21, 13 July 2214
Location: Sarabande Station, near the Cerces black hole
Status: Docked and powered down

My captain and SecOffs are in Iggulden’s cave. I can’t see in there. I don’t like it.

I’ve run diagnostics on the sensor network in that sector, and all I’m getting is ‘disconnected’ messages. There are supposed to be working sensors there but they appear to be missing. If that’s where Iggulden is living, he must have done it on purpose.

At least that explains why he has been so hard to locate.

I couldn’t just sit around and do nothing, though. I don’t have any choice about the sitting, but I still have some resources at my disposal. My drones might be busy with repairs but the doctor was able to be put to use.

Recording: 15:54, 13 July 2214
Station Location: Visitor's Lounge

(The doctor is sitting at a table, manipulating a portable interface to scroll through logs.)

DR SOCKS: Is this all you have of him?

STARRY: Yes. Iggulden has been staying out of sensor range, remember?

DR SOCKS: (sitting back in his seat and waving the display off) Well, it seems that he has adjusted to the situation on the station. He’s using that device on his wrist to determine who is real and who isn’t. I dare say he’s probably using it on his food as well.

STARRY: But he was… with a ghost…

DR SOCKS: He knows they’re not real. I didn’t say he cared that much. In fact, that’s probably the appeal.

STARRY: I think I feel sick.

DR SOCKS: You’re a ship. How can you feel sick?

STARRY: Just– never mind. What else can you tell about him? Is he dangerous?

DR SOCKS: (smiles to himself) Hard to say from the little bit I’ve seen. No red flags. He doesn’t carry a weapon and didn’t react aggressively to the appearance of real people. So, not paranoid. Not looking for a fight.

STARRY: I’m sensing a ‘but’.

DR SOCKS: But without seeing what he’s got in his den, it’s hard to say for certain. He may just have been caught out of his comfort zone.

STARRY: He didn’t seem uncomfortable.

DR SOCKS: True. Like I said, it’s hard to say for certain. I wouldn’t suggest that the captain let his guard down with this guy, if that’s what you’re looking for.

STARRY: Okay, thank you, doctor.

It wasn’t a great deal of help, but at least we can have hope that Iggulden isn’t a freak leading them into a set of traps or some kind of weird torture dungeon. Psychological profiling is supposed to be one of Dr Valdimir’s specialities, so if he doesn’t think there’s anything screaming to be worried about, we can all take confidence from that.

I’m keeping a close eye on the life signs coming out of that area, anyway. No worrying blips so far. And I sent the captain a summary of the doctor’s report, so I know the comms work. It’s tempting to listen in, but the captain told me not to worry and I’m trying to keep my nose clean. I’ll peek if I spot anything strange in the life signs. That’s my plan.

I’m up to 65% of my processing capacity. It’s just enough to have room to worry.

I should busy myself with other things. Use my returning capacity to do something useful.

In all the searching for other life signs, we forgot that we already know where there are some. Not on the station, not even nearby, and they’re unlikely to have any answers for us. But they’re probably experiencing what we are now. They’re probably wondering what’s going on, too.

They probably hate us. We’re the reason they’re here, after all.

The Celestial Strider. My sister ship, stuck on the edge of the black hole, unable to move forward, barely able to prevent herself from slipping backwards into the dark maw of Cerces.

I should have reached out to her earlier. I’ve barely had enough resources to think about my own people and everything we’re dealing with here. I feel like I’m making excuses, but I’m a little afraid to contact her. What if they’ve suffered the same fate as those on the station? What if she’s an empty ship left out there, holding steady because that’s the last thing her captain asked her to do?

I should talk to my captain. Ask what he thinks I should do.

No, I can’t disturb him; he’s doing something important down in the bowels of the station. What he finds out there might help all of us.

And I don’t need permission for this. There’s nothing wrong with checking on them, seeing how they are.

I can do this. Should I tell them it’s me? No, they won’t like that. The Starwalker shot at them, blew them up, and led them to this haunted place. I’m the reason they’re bobbing around on the event horizon of the black hole. I shouldn’t cause problems when I don’t have to. I have to route the comms traffic through the station’s antennae anyway; they’ll never know it’s me.

External comms channel: Sarabande Station array

STARRY: Hailing the Celestial Strider. This is Sarabande Station. Celestial, please respond.

No response. Ten seconds, and still no response. Where are they?

I wonder what time it is on board. Were our clocks synced? I have no idea. We’re synced with the station now, but maybe they’re all asleep on board the faraway ship.

STARRY: Hailing the Celestial Strider. This is Sarabande Station. Is anyone there?

Hmm, nothing. Could their array be damaged? No, they hailed the station when we first arrived; they could speak then. Unless their systems have degraded, they should be able to hear me.

If there’s anyone left.

Why isn’t the AI responding?

STARRY: Hailing–

CELESTIAL STRIDER: (male voice, human) We hear you, Sarabande. What do you want?

He sounds grumpy. I must have woken him up.

STARRY: Hello, Celestial! Good to hear from you. How are things over there?

CELESTIAL: Still waiting for that rescue you promised us.

STARRY: We’re working on it. Repairs are underway.

CELESTIAL: You’re taking your sweet time about it. What’s the hold-up?

STARRY: We’re a bit short-handed here. Working as fast as we can, though. We’ll be with you as soon as possible. Listen, have you guys noticed anything… strange, out there?

CELESTIAL: (guardedly) Depends what you mean by strange.

STARRY: Anyone on board having hallucinations? Seeing people who aren’t there? Imaginary food?

CELESTIAL: Yeah. We figured it was… something that happened on the way here.

They think it’s a side-effect of the Star Step? Something they picked up while passing outside the universe? I suppose that would make sense. Time and space are all the same out there. Who’s to say that we didn’t scoop up something we shouldn’t have while we were out there?

But that doesn’t explain Sarabande. This isn’t my fault; I’m sure of it.

STARRY: No, it’s a local phenomenon. We, uh, are experiencing it here on the station as well. It started some time before we– before you arrived.

CELESTIAL: Really. Huh. How do we stop it?

STARRY: We’re still working on that. Your sensor outputs will show you what’s real.

CELESTIAL: Yeah, we figured that much out. But it’s… still not easy to deal with.

Oh god, I hope this isn’t my fault. The effect couldn’t have rippled around in time, could it? Surely it doesn’t work that way?

Who am I kidding: we have no idea how this stuff really works. It’s an experiment.

STARRY: How long have you been experiencing the hallucinations over there?

CELESTIAL: Since a day or two after we got here. Why?

STARRY: We’re just checking on the consistency of the phenomenon.

Only a day or two? That’s fast; faster than it happened for us. Less than half the time it took for the first reports of glimpses of people.

Strange. In one of the logs I found, it reported that a ship that hadn’t docked with the station had had a faster onset of sightings, too. I wonder if their position had something to do with it. Could they have been closer to the source? Could they have been… oh, I have an awful inkling.

I just need to verify the position of that other ship. The Albatross. The station should have a record of its orbit or path around this area. There! For once, they recorded something of use, exactly where it should be.

Shit. I was right; the Albatross was between the station and Cerces. Closer to the black hole. Could that be the source? How?

The Step portal was at the black hole, but it didn’t exist when the Albatross was there. So it couldn’t be that. Could it? Could it be something to do with the black hole itself?

Another piece falls into place. And– oh, the ship is still speaking.

CELESTIAL: You’re seriously still looking into this? Is that another way of saying that you don’t know what the hell is going on?

STARRY: We’re in the same position you are, Celestial. We all want to figure this out. We’re doing everything we can.

CELESTIAL: We’ve been out here nearly two weeks! You’ve got a station full of people over there; surely you can work faster than this!

STARRY: Actually, we’re on a skeleton crew here. The hallucinations have decimated our population. Thousands died.

CELESTIAL: Are you kidding me? You’ve lost thousands of people and you still don’t know what’s causing it?

STARRY: We’ve only just arrived and started our–

CELESTIAL: We’ve got these fuckers crowding us on our own ship and you’ve got no idea what’s going on? Can’t even get a rescue ship over here? And you call yourselves a fucking space station?

STARRY: We’re in the same position you are–

CELESTIAL: Bullshit! We’re playing catchup on our own systems, chasing failures around in circles to avoid blowing out the propulsion. Do you have any idea what we’ve had to do just to stay where we are? We’ve already lost people to this goddamn ‘phenomenon’ of ours. You hear me?

STARRY: Oh god, Celestial, I’m so sorry to–

CELESTIAL: Shove your apologies! We need you to fix this, not apologise. Get us the hell out of here.

STARRY: You’re our top priority, Celestial, I promise. We’ll do everything we can to get you out of there as soon as possible.

CELESTIAL: Well do it faste– (The voice cuts off abruptly, and the sound of shuffling comes over the comms line. Then a new voice sounds, female and weary.) Sorry, Sarabande. We’re under a little strain here.

STARRY: (weakly) That’s all right, Celestial. We understand.

CELESTIAL: (female voice) Appreciate you checking in on us. Don’t be a stranger now.

STARRY: We’re here if you need anything. Just call.

CELESTIAL: Will do. Celestial Strider, out.

Shit. If I had hands, they’d be shaking right now.

The captain needs to know about this. But he’s busy. Elliott’s wiring my brain back together, and there’s nothing he can do anyway. He’s working as hard as he can. There’s only the doctor around; maybe he can shed some light? Offer some hope?

No harm in trying. Every brain helps, right? And the doc is supposed to be smarter than most.

We’ve got a new piece to the puzzle. One that’s starting to make an awful kind of sense.

Station sensors: live feed
Station location: Visitor's lounge

DR SOCKS: (stretches and wanders over to one of the long windows along the curving outer wall of the lounge.

The window has a reasonably clear view of the starscape beyond the station’s docking arms, which are mostly empty right now. The bulk of the Starwalker is off to the right, out of the way of the view. Right now, the dark bulk of the Cerces black hole is passing the slow turn of the docking ring and its lounge and swallowing up the light from distant stars.)

SARA: (curled up on the deep windowsill. She stares outside with fascination.)

DR SOCKS: (watching the child curiously) Sara, what are you looking at?

SARA: (jumps and looks up at the doctor, her eyes widening as if expecting him to shout at her.)

DR SOCKS: (sighs and crouches so that he’s on a level with her. He keeps his voice low and gestures to the window.) What’s out there?

SARA: (gazes out of the window again) Whale.

DR SOCKS: Isn’t that the name of your toy here? (He tugs on the tail of the stuffed whale that sticks out from under her arm.)

SARA: (shakes her head and splays a hand on the window) Whale. (She hugs her toy to her side more tightly.)

DR SOCKS: (frowns at the nothingness of the black hole.)

Ship's log, 14:32, 13 July 2214
Location: Sarabande Station, near the Cerces black hole
Status: Docked and powered down

Repairs are coming along more quickly now that my hull is intact. The heaviest lifting is out of the way and the more that’s fixed, the more I can help with what’s left.

Elliott has been working on my core resources, replacing blown circuits, reinstating connections, putting in fresh cables and crystalline matrices, and welding the fabric of my brain back together. I’m up to 63% capacity now and climbing. I feel better with each percentile increase.

I never really knew how stupid I was until I started to get my full capabilities back. There’s still a lot of work to do on my systems but I can think better now. Clearer, faster.

It’s great that I’m getting back on my mental feet, but the more stable I get, the more strained my crew seem to be. I know I’m not causing it but it’s hard to enjoy my returning capabilities when the ghosts are taking their toll. My people are more grim than they used to be. More paranoid.

I’m helping them where I can. My increase resources mean that I can wrangle the station’s systems more effectively. I cloned my securi-pup program and sent the copies to sniff out the life signs, trying to link them to sensor contacts. Rosie has been swearing about not being sent after another cat.

I’m painfully aware of how limited the station’s sensor network is; unlike mine, it doesn’t see into all of its corners, and its definition of ‘maintenance areas’ is much broader than mine. I don’t look inside my own ducts and pipes, but there are whole access corridors and crawlspaces that the station ignores. It doesn’t make my job any easier..

As it happens, I have located another cat. Two decks down from the arboretum where the mother and kittens were holed up, a sensor caught the tip of a furry tail. I guess that’s probably the kittens’ father. I’ll know more if he comes out into sensor range properly.

So that’s six life signs down: two adult cats, three kittens, and one small child. Six more to locate. And I got a hit on one of the larger life signals just half an hour ago.

Station sensor log, recording: 13:58, 13 July 2014
Location: Parabolic engine sector, access corridor B3

(The sensor shows a corridor leading away from the engine core. A wire-thin man hurries along the corridor, his shoulders hunched as if he’s laughing at something. The sensor shows the back of his head and his face is obscured by a mop of overgrown mouse-coloured hair. He’s wearing a pair of faded overalls, splattered with colour as if he got in the way of fighting rainbows.

The view switches to a sensor further down the corridor and gives a glimpse of a craggy face and a lopsided grin. The man turns right abruptly to duck through a doorway.)

Location: storage room 24C

(The room is full of crates. Towards the back, they are neatly stacked, but the closer to the door they get, the more ragged their arrangement. The man flips the nearest crate to him open and starts to hunt through it. From the debris around his feet, this isn’t the first time.)

After comparing his facial structure to the station’s records, I think this is the Acting Commander, Marlo Iggulden. Rosie and the Lieutenant are on their way down there right now; another few minutes and they’ll be on him. The captain is eager to talk to this man. He even called the doctor in to keep an eye on little Sara, much to Dr Valdimir’s disgruntlement.

Station comms
Station location: Engineering level B

ROSIE: (gesturing down a side corridor) What about them?

STARRY: Ghosts. Keep going.

HALF-FACE: (nodding) Is he still there?

STARRY: Yup. Although…

Oh. Wow, I was wondering what he was doing, and now I’m sorry I tried to figure it out.

He stopped looking through the crates about ten minutes ago and started wandering around the room, gesturing and talking to someone. To a ghost. Then he went quiet and started making the strangest face. Now he’s… he’s got a hand braced against the wall and his pants are unfastened and he’s… Oh, that’s just wrong.

ROSIE: (huffing) Although what?

STARRY: Uh, you might want to give him a minute.

ROSIE: Why?

STARRY: He’s, um. Busy doing something… private.

ROSIE: Like what?

STARRY: It’s hard to verify, but I think he’s having sex.

ROSIE: What do you mean, hard to verify? What’s complicated about whether or not he’s screwing someone?

STARRY: Well, I can’t see whoever, or whatever, he’s doing it with.

ROSIE: (eyes widening) Oh. Gross.

HALF-FACE: (smiles to himself) Maybe you should just let us know when he’s done.

STARRY: I really don’t want to have to watch him that closely. Do you know how hard it is to delete logs once they’re recorded?

My SecOffs are slowing down, taking their time as they approach the sector where the storage room is. They don’t want to see this guy screwing any more than I do. It’s hard not to look, but every time I do, the stomach I don’t have flops over. Rosie’s right: gross.

Hey what was that– oh, I need to stop analysing this stuff.

STARRY: Uh, you’re clear to go now. He’s… done. Putting his pants back on. You’re… just go, would you?

ROSIE: That was fast.

HALF-FACE: (shakes his head at her.)

They’re half a corridor away now. Just one more turn and they’re there. Meanwhile, Iggulden is back to pawing through the crates. Mostly clothing and shoes, from what I can tell. He’s pulling a cap on his head, squishing his hair down. It looks ridiculous, but oddly, entirely fitting on him.

Station sensors: live feed
Station location: storage room 24C

IGGULDEN: (pulls his hair out of his face and jams the cap tighter on his head, then turns back to the crate beside him.)

ROSIE and HALF-FACE: (weapons out, they slip into the room cautiously, scanning for trouble.)

IGGULDEN: (jumps at the movement and spins to face the new arrivals. He sticks his arm out at them, fist-first, and a display springs up above his wrist, scanning them.)

ROSIE and HALF-FACE: (snaps their weapons up to point at Iggulden, reacting to his aggressive pose.)

IGGULDEN: (squints at them through the filter of his wrist-display, but no actual weapon seems evident. He mutters,) Real. Apparently real. But not Sarabande. Curious, very curious. (Louder,) Interlopers?

HALF-FACE: (frowns, the plasti-skin pulling over his metal brow.)

ROSIE: Visitors. We’re looking for the acting commander of the station. You him?

IGGULDEN: (lowering his arm and lifting his chin) I am he. (He waves fingers at their weapons.) You can put those down. Nothing interesting here. (He gestures to his left.) This is Grilya.

ROSIE: (lowers her weapon’s aim an inch and scowls at the air beside Iggulden) Starry?

STARRY: Ghost.

ROSIE: The one he was…?

STARRY: How the hell would I know?

ROSIE: (shakes her head and returns her attention to the acting commander) We’re only interested in you.

HALF-FACE: (weapon now pointing at the floor) Our captain would like to talk to you about what’s going on here.

IGGULDEN: (loops an arm around the air beside him) Ah, of course, of course. You want to know all the station’s secrets. They whisper to you too, hmm? And you’ve got a device like mine. (He waggles his free arm, indicating the wrist device he used to scan the SecOffs.) Can tell the dreams from the real ones.

ROSIE: (scowls at him) And yet, you’re trying to lean on one.

IGGULDEN: (grins at her, showing grimy teeth) They have their uses. Don’t you, darling?

I can’t figure out if it’s better or worse that he can tell the ghosts from the real people, that he knows he’s leaning on someone who’s not really there. I suppose, in the end, he’s not hurting anyone. But it’s still kinda unsettling. People are so weird.

HALF-FACE: (before Rosie can speak) So, you’ll come with us to talk to our captain?

IGGULDEN: (narrows his eyes at the two before him) Not sure. Why doesn’t he come down here?

HALF-FACE: We’re verifying that it’s safe.

IGGULDEN: Oh, safe, safe. Nothing dangerous down here. Long as you know real from dream. (He winks at them.) Come on, I’ll show you my cave. All the best stuff’s down here. (He heads out of the room, beckoning. One hand is leading an invisible partner.) Come, come.

ROSIE: (exchanges a frown with the Lieutenant.)

HALF-FACE: (presses his lips together grimly and shrugs) Starry?

STARRY: I’m relaying the feed to the captain. He’s going to come down to you, as soon as you verify there’s nothing else going on down there.

HALF-FACE: Closest life signs?

STARRY: Nothing on that deck. Just the three of you.

ROSIE and HALF-FACE: (leave the room, unhurried this time.)

Location: Parabolic engine sector, access corridor B3

IGGULDEN: (waiting for them in the corridor. He’s fiddling with nothing, and stops doing whatever it is when he spots the SecOffs.) Come, come. (He turns to head down the corridor, underneath the range of the sensor.)

ROSIE and HALF-FACE: (move to follow him warily.)

STARRY: Wait!

ROSIE and HALF-FACE: (pause.)

ROSIE: What is it?

STARRY: He has left sensor range. Wherever he’s going, I don’t have sensor coverage in there.

HALF-FACE: Must be why it took so long to find him.

ROSIE: That’s a whole compartment. There aren’t any sensors at all?

STARRY: Not on the station’s network.

IGGULDEN: (from outside visual sensor range) Come on, what’s the matter? It’s through here.

STARRY: I can’t even turn that last sensor around to look where he’s gone. I can’t monitor you guys in there. You need to stay out.

IGGULDEN: (the top of his head reappears at the bottom of the sensor’s range) I thought you wanted to talk?

ROSIE: We do. Just not in there.

IGGULDEN: This something to do with that device of yours?

ROSIE: What device?

IGGULDEN: The one that tells you dream from real.

ROSIE: That’s our ship.

IGGULDEN: (head bobbing around as he paces) Ship? Ship. Must be patched into the station. Sensors just ruin the fun. Well, my cave is in here.

HALF-FACE: We just want to talk about what happened here.

IGGULDEN: Which part, hmm? The dreams or the dreamers?

HALF-FACE: The dream-master.

IGGULDEN: (laughing) Interesting! Well, if you want to know, you’ll have to come inside. (His head disappears from the visual sensor again.)

ROSIE: (takes a step forwards) Wait!

IGGULDEN: (distantly, still laughing) Door’s open! Come on in!

STARRY: You can’t go in there!

HALF-FACE: What are the captain’s orders?

STARRY: He’s on his way down to you now. He wants you to wait.

I don’t like this. The captain knows the situation – I’ve been piping it to him, even while he has been on the move – and he’s still heading down there. He has a determined look on his face that I haven’t really seen before. He means to do something.

He means to go in there, I just know it. I can’t monitor them in there. I couldn’t help them anyway, not in any direct, physical way, but I can’t tell them what’s real and what’s ghost, either. I can’t even be sure that the comms will work in there; we tried paging Iggulden when we arrived and he never answered.

He could have anything rigged up in there. He could have weapons, or traps, or offensive drones. He could have poisoned food or pheromone snares. He didn’t seem malicious, but he also seemed a little crazy, so what does all that mean? We don’t know how he has survived all this time. The things he’s had to do, or what might have given way in his head.

I have to find a way to help my crew. I can’t let them go in there on their own.

Location: Visitor's lounge

STARRY: Excuse me, doctor?

DR SOCKS: (sitting at a table, he’s frowning at the young Sara) I told you not to touch that. What is it, Starry?

SARA: (stares up at the doctor. She has her stuffed whale gripped in one hand and a small device in the other. Her eyes are big and shining.)

STARRY: I, uh. Are you trying to make her cry?

DR SOCKS: She stole my scanner. (He holds a hand out towards the girl, palm-up, and speaks firmly.) Now, give it back, please.

SARA: (lifts the hand holding the scanner, but she doesn’t move towards the doctor, so she can’t reach his hand. Her lips tremble.)

DR SOCKS: (huffs.)

STARRY: (before he can speak to the child again) You’re scaring her. She’s doing as you’re asking. Can’t you be a little bit nice to her?

DR SOCKS: (shakes his head with exasperation, but he gets down off his chair and rests on one knee in front of the girl. He takes the device from her little hand carefully.) Do. Not. Touch. Do you understand?

SARA: (nods and her face starts to crumple up.)

STARRY: Doctor!

DR SOCKS: (sighs) All right, all right. (He stops frowning at the girl and makes an effort to remove the edge from his words.) Thank you for giving it back. Just don’t do it again, all right?

SARA: (sniffs and nods, hugging her whale to her chest.)

DR SOCKS: Off you go, then.

SARA: (runs off across the room.)

STARRY: Your beside manner sucks.

DR SOCKS: Was there something you wanted?

STARRY: Yes. I need you to do a psychological evaluation of this fella the captain has gone to talk to.

DR SOCKS: (sits back at the table again and sets the scanner down) All right, show me what you have on him.

If I can’t see in there, maybe we can work out how much of a danger this guy really is.

Captain's log, 20:14, 11 July 2214
Location: Sarabande Station, near the Cerces black hole
Status: Docked and powered down
Log location: Captain's cabin

Captain Warwick reporting after… far too long. It has been a week since my last log.

The investigation into the situation on board the station is continuing. We don’t seem much closer to understanding the cause behind everything that’s happening, even though we are becoming intimately familiar with the symptoms. I hope we don’t have to stay here too much longer because of our exposure to the condition; there’s no telling how long it might take for the toll to start to tell on the crew. We are currently stranded by the damage to our ship, so I have to hope that the measures we’re taking will be enough to see us through.

It has taken nearly two weeks for Monaghan to complete the repairs to the Starwalker‘s structure, but it’s finally done. She’s repressurised now and holding steady. I’m able to be on board without a suit; the feeds from the station are picking up where Starry’s damaged systems can’t cope, so we have atmosphere and gravity in here. Starry ran a slew of diagnostics before she’d let anyone on board without emergency protection but even she seems confident that she’s holding steady now.

There’s still a lot of work to do: repairs to make on systems that were blown or just plain blown up by the battles. It’s a wonder that Starry was able to get us here to Sarabande Station at all. Monaghan is working all hours to fix what’s broken. I can’t fault his dedication or the thoroughness of his work. It’s rare to have an engineer that doesn’t cut corners when there’s so much to do.

Still, I think there was another motive to his hurry lately. Particularly, his eagerness to move back onto the ship and out of the station’s visitor quarters. Little Sara Ripley has taken quite a shine to him and he’s not handling it well. She’s not allowed on board the ship, so this is his escape.

Monaghan isn’t the only one she has attached herself to. She seems quite eager to spend time with any of the crew, though she has yet to have much luck with Brasco. Our senior SecOff doesn’t seem to have much time for children.

Dr Valdimir is the only person that Sara has shown reluctance to be near. He was cool and clinical when he checked her over, and he completely ignored her attempts to connect with him. She offered him her toy and almost started crying when he refused it. When he was finished, she ran to Monaghan for a cuddle, but he was too confused to know what to do with her and she got upset. I scooped her up and hugged her until she was calm again. Poor child, I wonder how long it has been since she has been embraced, with only a drone for a carer.

It’s hard for me to hold her. She reminds me of my Rebecca at that age, though Rebecca was a quieter child. Sara is constantly on the move, getting into anything she can get her hands on, always investigating; she’s only still when she’s eating or sleeping. She’s only quiet when she’s sleeping. Rebecca was more thoughtful. She could spend hours drawing or reading, or playing educational games. She never ran off. She listened when we called to her and she always smelled of her mother’s favourite soap.

It has been nearly five years since I lost her. But the grip of little hands, the feel of a warm, trusting weight in my arms, the weight of a sleepy head on my shoulder… all I remember is Rebecca. How precious she was and how it never quite made sense that I could have something so perfect in my charge. How blessed she made me feel every time she smiled at me. How empty I was when she was gone.

Standing here in the ruins of my cabin, looking at what little remains of my life, I remember the pain most of all. All those little knick-knacks that I had kept are gone now, sucked out of the hull breach that split the ceiling here. The picture she drew of our family for my birthday, with its wiggly lines and weird colours. Her first pair of baby shoes. The toy horse she carried around by its tail when she was Sara’s age. The blanket that my Mariska wove to wrap our new daughter in. All gone now.

Almost everything else is gone, too. Commendations, clothing, shoes. Emergency equipment. I can replace most of that from the station’s supplies. None of it mattered. But those things of Rebecca’s – and the bits of Mariska’s that I’d kept, too – can’t be replaced. The only things I have left of them are pictures in a datastore: holos and vids recorded in the few years we had together. Frozen moments of a family I lost. Failed.

I still miss them so much.

That must be why I’ve been seeing them so much. They are my ghosts. Exactly as I remember them, my beautiful girls. I can see why the station commander was so happy in her last months, reunited with her dead love.

But even though my ghosts say they forgive me, even though they smile at me, I can’t quite forgive myself for what happened. I can’t forget. They’re not real; they’re not really here. As much as I want to lose myself in the warmth of their presence, I can’t. I would have died for them once, I would have given anything to see and hold them again. But this isn’t real. I won’t lie down and die with them; they wouldn’t want that.

Standing here looking at the scar across my ceiling, I can’t help but think that the spirits have sent me a message. My slate has been scrubbed clean and patched over. It hasn’t been healed completely, but maybe that’s up to me. Maybe this is my chance to put my beloved girls to rest. It’s a sign that I need to move on.

This child of the station needs us – needs me – far more than the ghosts of my family do. Whatever happens, we can’t leave Sara to be raised by a nanny-drone. We may be a strange family on this ship, but at least we care for each other, in our own way. And I know Starry will burst herself to keep the little one safe, just as she would for any of us.

And maybe we need Sara, too. Maybe we all need to be reminded of the simplicity and wealth of a child’s love.

It’s hard to believe that Sara is older than Starry. Starry has come such a long way since she was ‘born’, but in many ways, she’s just as lost and in need of love as a child.

I can take a hint. Thank you, spirits, for guiding me. I’ll do my best to let go of the past. Ignore the ghosts that stand in the corner, watching me, and build myself a new family. I won’t forget them, never forget, but I can try not to dwell on the pain any more.

First, though, I should make sure that Laurence is keeping an eye on Sara. He’s the only one of my crew that’s actually good with her, and despite Monaghan’s claims, his face doesn’t frighten her. I don’t think there’s much that scares this little girl.

Once I’m sure she’s looked after, I’m going to find some new internal panels and work on healing that scar in the ceiling. It has been a while since I did anything like that but I’m sure I remember how.

Some things, you never forget, even if you might need to be reminded of them from time to time.

Ship's log, 18:26, 10 July 2214
Location: Sarabande Station, near the Cerces black hole
Status: Docked and powered down

What do you do when a ghost is not a ghost? Stare at it, apparently.

Live sensor feed
Location: Visitor's lounge

(All of the crew except for Dr Valdimir is present. Rosie is leaning against the bar by the drinks dispenser, glass in hand. Elliott, the Lieutenant and the captain are sitting at different tables. The engineer has a half-finished meal in front of him, fork hovering uncertainly above the food.

Everyone is staring at the small child standing in the doorway of the lounge. The little girl hugs her stuffed toy tighter in the face of such scrutiny.)

CAPTAIN: Starry, you said you have her on sensors?

STARRY: Yeah.

ELLIOTT: (chokes on his half-chewed mouthful and swallows it painfully) She’s real?

STARRY: Yeah.

CAPT: Who–

STARRY: I’m running an ident check now.

CHILD: (looks from one to the other as they speak.)

ROSIE: (standing up straighter) I know her!

CAPT: (tears his gaze away from the child to glance at the SecOff) Are you sure? If she’s not a ghost, then…

ROSIE: (shakes her head) No, no. Not like that. That’s the kid I saw when we were doing the first sweeps.

CAPT: (nods thoughtfully and returns his attention to the girl.)

ROSIE: Starry, I can’t believe you sent us all the way upstairs after some fucking cats when she was down–

ELLIOTT: Jesus Christ, Rosie, language.

ROSIE: Oh, like you’re one to talk!

ELLIOTT: (gestures at the child.)

ROSIE: (slams her drink down) Fine, fine.

CHILD: (jumps at the sharp noise.)

CAPT: All right, calm down, everyone. Let’s not scare her away. Starry, do you have a name?

STARRY: I’m piecing together the records now. It’s not easy after they broke the personnel tracking. It looks like…

Oh, shit. If I try to match her approximate age, gender, hair colour, eye colour, and other genetic markers, the best hit I can come up with is Sara Ripley. The first child born on this station. The station commander mentioned it in her log.

This place has been her whole life. Her existence has been teeming with ghosts. What would that do to a kid’s mind, I wonder?

Station comms
Location: Med Bay

STARRY: (voice only) Excuse me, doctor?

DR SOCKS: (standing beside the bed that holds a sleeping Lang Lang Cartier, where he’s switching one medicine pack for another) Yes?

STARRY: When you’re done with that, we could do with you up in the lounge.

DR SOCKS: Something wrong?

STARRY: No, not wrong, but…

DR SOCKS: (lifts his attention away from the work at hand. His gaze skids around the room before it finds a comfortable middle distance to settle on.) What is it?

STARRY: A child has turned up. Born on this station. She might need someone to look over her.

DR SOCKS: Injured? Malnourished?

STARRY: No, actually, she looks fine. I was more thinking… well, this is the only place she’s ever known, and it’s full of ghosts.

DR SOCKS: And you were wondering what damage that might have done. (He frowns.) You thought? This hasn’t come from the captain?

STARRY: Not yet, but give him a minute.

DR SOCKS: (hmphs) I’ll head up soon.

Live sensor feed
Location: Visitor's lounge

CAPT: …It looks like what?

STARRY: Sara. I think her name is Sara.

CHILD: (head lifts a little bit from behind her stuffed toy.)

CAPT: (looks at the other adults in the room, then sighs softly and gets up to walk slowly towards the child) Sara? Is that your name, honey?

SARA: (turns wide eyes on the captain.)

CAPT: (smiles at her kindly) It’s all right, we’re friends here. We’re very pleased to see you. (He touches his chest, still moving quietly forward.) I’m John.

SARA: (doesn’t move; she just watches him.)

CAPT: (stops and crouches just outside of arm’s reach) We’ve been looking for you. And the person who looks after you. Is your mommy here?

He’s right; someone must be looking after her. I can’t find any record of what might have happened to her parents. They could still be alive, one of those unaccounted-for life signs.

But the doctor had a point, too: she’s not malnourished and she should be, given all the ghost food people were seeing. She’s clean and well-fed, and neatly dressed even if she’s only wearing one shoe. So how did that happen? How could a person have been so thorough at giving her real food in the midst of so many illusions?

SARA: (shakes her head.)

CAPT: What about your daddy?

SARA: (shakes her head.)

CAPT: Who put your hair up in such a pretty ponytail, Sara?

SARA: (stares at him over the bulk of her stuffed toy’s head. For a long moment, it looks like she’s not going to answer.)

CAPT: Who did that for you, hmm?

SARA: (softly) Nanny.

CAPT: Nanny, huh? Well, that’s nice of her. Do you think she’ll mind if you come visit with us for a while?

Nanny. Who must surely be looking for the kid right now. Sara isn’t so neat and clean because she has a carer who lets her run off for hours on end.

‘Nanny’ could mean anything: male, female, programmed drone, even a personal, independent android. There aren’t any other life signs in the same sector as the lounge, so unless she has managed to run across zones from her carer, it’s probably not a person. A machine, then.

All right, my little security hound. Go find me signs of movement anywhere in this sector and the three intersecting ones. And give me a list of all the drones in that area. Something is searching for this kid.

SARA: (shrugs and doesn’t seem inclined to move.)

CAPT: (holds a hand out towards her, palm up) Maybe we can find you something yummy to eat. Does that sound good?

SARA: (looks at his hand, then around at the room beyond the crouching captain.)

ROSIE: (rolls her eyes) Why don’t you grab her? It’s just a damn kid.

ELLIOTT: Is that your answer to everything?

ROSIE: (shrugs) Usually works.

CAPT: It’s all right, Sara. Come on in.

SARA: (walks forward slowly, towards that outstretched hand, but she doesn’t take hold of it. Her arms stay tightly wrapped around her stuffed grey toy.)

CAPT: (puts his hand on her back instead, rising and lightly guiding her into the room) Good girl. Starry, can you see to the door, please?

STARRY: (voice only) Sure. (All of the doors to the lounge swish closed.) Doctor’s going to head up to you shortly, by the way.

CAPT: (nods, his attention on the child) Good, good. Sara, how about you sit here? (He pulls a chair out from a nearby table.) And we’ll get you something to eat.

SARA: (looks at the chair, then abruptly turns and runs off, heading across the room.)

CAPT: Sara, wait– (He starts after her, trying not to look like he’s chasing her.) Starry?

STARRY: Room’s as secure as I can make it, captain.

SARA: (weaves around another table, eluding the captain’s reach.)

ROSIE: (lifts her eyebrows as she steps to head the child off) Slippery little sucker, huh captain?

ELLIOTT: (grins at the antics.)

HALF-FACE: (rises quietly from his seat and starts to circle around to the kid’s other side, stepping as gently as he can.)

SARA: (ducks under a table and runs in a straight line out the other side, right up to Elliott’s side. There, she stops, and abruptly thrusts her stuffed toy out at him.)

ELLIOTT: (blinks at her, his grin fading) What? (Nonplussed, he reaches out to take the toy.)

CAPT: (stops a couple of paces away, watching with interest.)

SARA: (pushes the toy into Elliott’s hands, then grabs his leg and starts to climb up onto his lap.)

ELLIOTT: Hey! (He lifts the toy out of her way and watches her clamber up with bewilderment.) What the hell are you doing?

SARA: (doesn’t answer, just wriggles herself around so that she’s sitting on his knee, facing the table. Once she’s settled, she twists to hold her hands out at him, fingers making grabbing motions.) Whale.

ELLIOTT: (gives the toy back to her) Oh, is that what it’s supposed to be?

SARA: (faces the table again and fumbles to tuck the toy under her arm. Once she has a hand free, she drags Elliott’s plate closer and picks up a fry.)

ELLIOTT: Hey, that’s my fu–

ROSIE: (grinning) Language, Monaghan.

ELLIOTT: (shoots a glare at her) Shut up.

SARA: (munches on a fry and looks around the room again.)

ELLIOTT: (helplessly) Captain, can’t you do something about this?

CAPT: She seems pretty comfortable to me.

ELLIOTT: (holding his hands out to the sides, as if he’s afraid of touching the child but wary in case she topples off his knee suddenly) Yeah, eating my food! You’re the one who promised her something to eat.

CAPT: She won’t eat much. Laurence, let’s see if we can get her something more nutritious than fries, please?

HALF-FACE: (nods and heads to the food dispensers.)

CAPT: (taking a seat opposite Elliott and the fry-munching child) Starry, what have you got on who’s been looking after her?

STARRY: Searching now, captain. I don’t have life signs anywhere near here, so I’m checking the local drones.

ELLIOTT: (frowns at the ponytail bobbing in front of him) She was brought up by a drone?

STARRY: Looks like it, for the last little while, anyway.

CAPT: Any record of her parents?

STARRY: Still searching. They were alive when the personnel monitoring was disrupted. The rest is going to take time. Did I mention that I hate this station and all of its systems?

CAPT: All right, let me know if you find anything.

STARRY: Sure, will do– wait. I think I have something.

ELLIOTT: Is it something that’ll get her off me?

My faithful little securi-pup has come back with a report of a nanny-drone. No, wait… three. Could there be that many in this sector of the station? And they’re all searching for their charges.

I don’t even want to think about what that means. Are all the survivors cats and children? Or are the drones just patiently looking for those who aren’t here any more?

Let’s see if I can get a better look at them through the station’s sensors.

STARRY: Maybe, Elliott. I’m trying to narrow down our candidate list. Yes. I have a drone registered to the Ripley family, currently half a sector away from the transit tube from the lounge.

CAPT: Sara’s nanny?

STARRY: It’s carrying her other shoe.

CAPT: Can you get it to come here?

STARRY: I don’t have command access to the drones, especially not the privately-owned ones like that. There’s only so much I can hack with my current resources.

ELLIOTT: I’ll go fix that now. Captain, if you’ll just take her off me…

CAPT: (giving Elliott a flat look) She’s not hurting you, Monaghan.

ELLIOTT: She’s kinda heavy, y’know. Kid, stop wriggling.

HALF-FACE: (quietly sits down beside Elliott and places a tray on the table. There’s a plate piled with vegetables and a bowl of ice cream. He leans forward and speaks softly to the girl.) Would you like some ice cream, Sara?

SARA: (looks up at his face and stops, staring at him. The fry in her hand hovers just in front of her mouth.)

Hmm, maybe I don’t have to hack the drone to get it to come to the lounge. Let’s see how smart it is. It’s much easier to use the hacks I’ve already done.

Station comms

STARRY: (open broadcast) Sara Ripley is in the Visitor’s Lounge.

Live sensor feed
Location: Visitor's lounge

CAPT: (frowning) Starry, what was that?

STARRY: That was me. Nanny-drone’s on her way. Apparently her sensors work.

CAPT: Good work.

HALF-FACE: (puts a spoon in the bowl and slides it towards the little girl) It’s yummy ice cream. Chocolate. You like chocolate?

SARA: (stares at him, not moving.)

ELLIOTT: I think your face is scaring her.

HALF-FACE: (blinks and sits back) Oh. Sorry.

SARA: (blinks, then twists to offer the fry in her hand to Elliott.)

ELLIOTT: (takes the fry gingerly) Uh, thanks. Did you drool on it?

SARA: (doesn’t answer, turning to hold her stuffed whale out towards the Lieutenant.)

HALF-FACE: (looks surprised as he takes it from her with careful hands.)

SARA: (picks the spoon up in a little fist and starts to lift a lump of ice cream towards her mouth with great concentration.)

ELLIOTT: (narrows a look at the Lieutenant) If she gets that all over me, you’re gonna pay.

HALF-FACE: (lips quirking with amusement, he places the battered whale on the table in front of him. One hand absently strokes its plush straight.)

ROSIE: (approaching warily, she stops at the next table along) So what’re we gonna do with her? Looks like that drone’s been doing a good job with her.

ELLIOTT: And you wanna leave her with it?

ROSIE: (shrugs, apparently fine with that idea.)

ELLIOTT: What’s wrong with you?

ROSIE: (glares at the engineer.)

CAPT: I’m not sure what we should do about her yet. We need to know more about the situation here. For now, we need to keep tabs on her. Starry?

STARRY: I can’t do a lot about her nanny-drone, but I’ve set the station’s trackers to monitor her position. We won’t lose her again.

ELLIOTT: I can have a go at her drone when it gets here. Captain, if you’ll just take her…

CAPT: (trying not to look amused) You’re doing fine as you are, Monaghan.

ELLIOTT: (leaning forward to whisper in the kid’s ear) Hey, Sara, why don’t you hop up on his knee? (He gestures to the Lieutenant.) He brought you the ice cream. Isn’t that nice? You must like him better.

SARA: (glances up at Elliott and smiles brightly at him. There’s chocolate ice cream all around her mouth. She offers him a spoonful.)

ELLIOTT: (sighs) No, I’m good, thanks.

CAPT: (watching the exchange with amusement) What about the other life signs, Starry?

STARRY: I’m trying to get them on sensors. I’ll let you know if I find anything.

CAPT: (nods and sits back, watching the child eat messily.)

There’s a calm atmosphere in the lounge that hasn’t been there before. All of my people are focussed on that one, small thing; their attention isn’t skipping around and tripping over people who aren’t there. For once, we’re all seeing the same thing.

The nanny-drone is approaching the lounge, programmed to watch over her charge without wavering.

I haven’t seen the captain smile like that for a long time. I wonder if Sara reminds him of the daughter he lost. He seems… lighter. They all do. She’s the first thing we’ve found that doesn’t seem warped by what happened here.

I wonder if we can keep her.

Ship's log, 18:09, 10 July 2214
Location: Sarabande Station, near the Cerces black hole
Status: Docked and powered down

No wonder it has been so hard to find the survivors on this station. Some idiot had recalibrated the personnel tracking system to… I have no idea what they were trying to do with it. If I had to guess, I’d say that they were trying to detect the ghosts, but all they did was remove any ability to track real people.

Idiots.

There wasn’t any hope of fixing it, so I wound up rebooting half of the station’s systems and resetting them back to their factory defaults.

It seems to have worked. It’s not optimum; if I had the time and resources, I’d refine the protocols managing the systems, but this will have to do for now. The station’s logs are filling up with reports of bodies, more than I care to tally. I put in an order for the station and its drones to log everything about the corpses before dealing with them in some way. Put them into storage, at least. They need names and death records, if their families are ever going to know what happened to them.

Okay, maybe their families aren’t ever going to know what happened to them. Is that up to us, now? Have we become the bearers of awful news? Is it our responsibility to clean this mess up?

I don’t know. The captain is on board with everything I’m doing and seems to feel like he should step in here. I support him, because I’m his ship. But I don’t know if we have the resources on this station to store all of the dead. I don’t know if we’re equipped to deal with all of this.

We do what we can do. And another thing we can do now is to locate the living people on board the ship. Those twelve life signs have been holding steady ever since we got here, and now that the detection system is working how it should be, I can guide my people to where they are.

Rosie and the Lieutenant are making their way back to the lounge after a trip to one of the arboretums where the station patiently grows food for people who are no longer here. It wasn’t exactly a fruitful trip – and if I’m not mistaken, Rosie is still pissed – but we have ticked four off our list of twelve life signs to locate.

Sensor log, recorded 16:39, 10 July 2214
Location: Access corridor B, upper arboretum

STARRY: (over station comms) It’s just around the corner to your right. You’re almost there.

ROSIE: (walking in the lead along the corridor, fingering the grip of her handgun with absent-minded tension) That’s in the observation deck. You sure?

STARRY: I’m sure.

HALF-FACE: (following the other SecOff, he looks around warily, likewise holding his weapon ready. He doesn’t fidget, however.)

ROSIE: (flattens herself against the wall beside the right-hand turn and gestures to her companion.)

HALF-FACE: (stops out of sight of anything around the corner. The pupil of his cybernetic eye dilates as it scans different parts of the spectrum. A little shake of his head indicates that he’s not picking anything up.)

ROSIE: (voice dropping to a hiss) What’ve you got, Starry?

STARRY: (reduced volume) No direct sensor contact. Not many sensors looking inside the observation room, and the light’s bad. The arboretum is in the middle of a night cycle; I’m trying to break it out of it, but it’s gonna take some time. Life signs are pinpointed… ten metres from the corner, straight line from the entrance to the rear right corner.

ROSIE: Just one signal?

STARRY: Yes.

ROSIE: Ten metres?

STARRY: Yes. Holding position.

ROSIE: (glances at her companion, then snaps her weapon up to point in the direction they had just come from. Her eyes narrow at something.) Starry! What about over there?

STARRY: Nothing there.

HALF-FACE: (reflexively aiming his weapon in the same direction, he tenses, then frowns. Plastiskin pulls over his half-metal facial structure and he lowers his weapon.)

STARRY: Ghost?

HALF-FACE: One of mine.

ROSIE: (nods and lowers her weapon, pulling her attention away from the illusion) Okay, on three. One, two…

(On her next nod, both SecOffs spin themselves around the corner of the access corridor and slip into the room beyond. One wall is a long curve of glass, looking out over the lush foliage of the arboretum. The night-cycle is barely lit, and thin silvery light slides into the room, reflected off leaves and the fine mist of water that flows over the plants.

The room itself holds only a few chairs and doesn’t seem to have its own lighting. The SecOffs carefully check every corner and shadow, but they don’t find anyone.)

ROSIE: (glances at the Lieutenant.)

HALF-FACE: (shrugs and shakes his head.)

ROSIE: Starry, we’ve got nothin’ here!

STARRY: The readings are telling me that the life form is nine metres to your left.

ROSIE: (turns to her left, facing down the length of the room that curves around the side of the arboretum. Her gun hovers at a downwards angle, bobbing as if it wants to come up, but there’s no target.) That’s inside the room! Laurence, you got anything?

HALF-FACE: Nothing.

ROSIE: Starry, you sure?

STARRY: That’s what the readings are telling me.

ROSIE: Well, you’re not reading it right!

STARRY: Wait, it’s moving… it’s coming right for you.

ROSIE: (backs up a step) There’s nothing there!

STARRY: Five metres…

ROSIE: (steps to the side, still scanning) I don’t see it!

STARRY: Three metres…

HALF-FACE: (frowns and dilates his cybernetic eye again, then stares hard at the floor.)

STARRY: Two metres…

HALF-FACE: Under the floor! I see it… it’s…

STARRY: One metre…

ROSIE: (backing up and searching for any sign of the signal source) It’s what? Spit it out!

HALF-FACE: I’m not sure. It’s really small.

STARRY: There’s an access panel to the ducts under the floor near the door you entered by.

ROSIE: For fuck’s sake, Starry, you couldn’t have told us it was under the floor?

STARRY: The station is too stupid to tell! Hurry up if you want to grab it.

(The SecOffs rush towards the access corridor and thump the corners of the panel in the floor. The seal releases with a soft hiss and Rosie lifts the panel up and out of the way. The Lieutenant lies down on his stomach and reaches into the ducts below with a metal hand.)

ROSIE: (dropping the panel behind her) Well? You got it?

HALF-FACE: Almost… almost… yes! Got it!

(He withdraws his arm and pushes himself up slowly, lifting the small creature free. It’s covered in brown and black stripes, and it growls and swipes at him, claws raking across plastiskin and pinging off the metal parts of his arm. It wriggles fiercely, forcing him to readjust his grip. Even holding it by the back of the neck doesn’t calm it or the vehemence of its growling.)

ROSIE: (staying out of reach) Fucking hell. What is that thing? Does it have six legs or something?

HALF-FACE: (grunting and holding it away from himself, so it has less of him to claw at) What’s the matter, Brasco, you’ve never seen a cat before?

ROSIE: Not in person. What’s wrong with its mouth?

HALF-FACE: It’s got something in it.

STARRY: Food, probably. It must be scavenging to survive here.

ROSIE: (stands up and holsters her weapon) Scavenging what?

STARRY: Do you really want to know? Because I’m thinking that the options aren’t good.

ROSIE: (hesitates, swallows unpleasantly, then blusters) Starry, you sent us up here after a cat?

STARRY: The station doesn’t distinguish between the signals! I’m still trying to calibrate it properly, but these aren’t my systems.

ROSIE: Shit.

HALF-FACE: (tilts his head as he looks at the cat, then holsters his weapon and tries to hug the creature against his chest. Claws dig into his sleeve and it keeps growling, but it stops wriggling. Feline eyes narrow at the half-metal face. He looks down at it calmly.)

ROSIE: (watches the cat warily, staying a clear metre away) So what the hell do we do with it now?

That wasn’t an easy question to answer. Ultimately, now that I know what the life signal is, I can have the station tag and track it. So there’s no danger of sending my SecOffs after it again if we let it go. And what else were we supposed to do? Kill it? Keep it somehow?

When I looked at the other life signs in the station, I located another three clumped together not far from the arboretum. They were similar enough to the one that the Lieutenant was holding that it seemed safe to send my people to check them out.

The closer they got to the new trio, the more agitated the cat in the Lieutenant’s arms became. Rosie had to open a wall panel to access the nook they were hiding in, to the soundtrack of feline wailing and the Lieutenant swearing under his breath. He glanced at the nook and then released the animal. I had to wait until the SecOffs moved back a step before I could get a good sensor angle on it.

Kittens. Eyes open, stumbling in juvenile confusion; they couldn’t have been more than a few weeks old. The cat was clearly their mother: she jumped up in front of them and puffed herself up, swearing at my people in her worst feline language. The Lieutenant was content to stand back and rub his arms as if they stung from all the scratching. Rosie didn’t seem inclined to interfere either. In the end, neither of them wanted to get close enough to put the panel back on the wall, so they left the nook exposed and slipped away.

So now we know what four of the life signs are. And I know that the station includes the ducts in its definition of a deck in its structure. I’m trying to refine the other eight signals so we can focus on the bigger ones first. I think everyone will be pissed if they all turn out to be cats, but the logs prove that a human was alive shortly before we arrive, so we have to have some hope, right?

My SecOffs are arriving back at the visitor’s lounge now, footsore and grumbling. Well, the grumbling is mostly from Rosie; the Lieutenant is as stoic as he always is, despite the damage to his forearms. I wonder if that hurts. Does he have pain sensation in his cybernetic limbs?

The largest life sign I can locate is right down in the bowels of the station. Engineering sector. That’s a long way from the docking ring, so maybe I’ll let them eat before I break the news. The rest of the life signs are spread out across the station, except… wait. That’s strange.

Live sensor feed
Location: Visitor's lounge

CAPTAIN: (sitting at a table, surrounded by a wrap of holographic displays of overlapping data streams, from scrolling text to fast-forwarding sensor logs. He looks up when the tromp of feet down the corridor reaches him. His gaze trips over a small figure in the doorway and moves quickly past it, looking for his crewmembers.)

ELLIOTT: (seated nearby, he doesn’t so much as glance up from the meal he’s ploughing into.)

ROSIE: (muttering under her breath, she pulls off her gloves as she swerves around the figure in the doorway. She enters the room without giving it a second glance, bee-lining for the beverage dispenser.)

I’ve been so busy looking for big signals that I missed it. Coming right at them. Idiot ship!

CAPT: How’d it go?

ROSIE: Starry didn’t tell you?

STARRY: (over station comms, voice only) Been a little busy.

HALF-FACE: (steps his bulk carefully around the obstacle in the doorway and moves towards a seat. The little one watches him go past, tracking him with big eyes. He doesn’t look down.)

It’s not my fault. I’m not built for this kind of remote monitoring. I’m barely managing to run my own systems and keep up with demand as it is.

I should have seen it. Should have noticed the sensor feeds.

ROSIE: (punches her order into the dispenser’s interface and throws her free hand up) Cats! Starry sent us after fucking cats.

ELLIOTT: (grins lopsidedly between mouthfuls) They were fucking when you found them?

ROSIE: (glares at him) No, don’t be stupid.

STARRY: Um…

CAPT: Cats? (He glances at the Lieutenant.)

HALF-FACE: (drops into a chair with a sigh, shifting his belt so that his weapons sit more comfortably) Yeah. Female and three babies.

CAPT: Starry, you couldn’t tell they were cats?

STARRY: No, I’m still trying to refine the detection system. And, uh, by the way…

They can’t tell. They think it’s just a ghost and are ignoring her like all the rest.

ROSIE: Cats! What a fucking waste of time. And Starry was all ‘it’s coming right at you! ahhh!’ Lieutenant Larry over here nearly shit himself.

CAPT: (lifts an eyebrow.)

HALF-FACE: (shakes his head, the corner of his mouth twitching.)

ELLIOTT: (manages to laugh and chew without choking.)

STARRY: Guys?

ROSIE: (grabs the dispensed cup of frothy beer and starts chugging it back.)

CAPT: (pulling his attention away from the SecOffs) What is it, Starry?

They’re gonna kill me.

STARRY: You all see the kid in the doorway, right?

(All heads in the room swivel towards the doorway and a hush falls.

There, a small child no more than two or three years old stands, staring back at them. Her black hair is pulled into a wispy ponytail and she’s dressed in a pink frilly shirt over darker pink leggings. There’s a white shoe on her left foot and only a dirty sock on her right. She hugs a stuffed toy to her chest, grey and stained and threadbare from much use. When attention turns to her, she ducks her face down behind it, peeking over the top with big eyes.)

STARRY: Because I’ve got her on sensors.

Hello, lovely readers!

Just a quick note to let you all know about a change that has been made on the website. The chapter links (under the Categories heading in the sidebar) work slightly differently than they did before: to aid readability, the story chapters now display in ascending date order (oldest to newest).

This change was made following some reader feedback. So, if you have any, let me have it! I’m always looking for ways to improve the reading experience on the site (though my skills to implement it sometimes need improvement). Feel free to leave comments here or email me.

In the meantime, back to writing more story. Enjoy!

Ship's log, 23:09, 9 July 2214
Location: Sarabande Station, near the Cerces black hole
Status: Docked and powered down

On a station full of ghosts, I’m feeling a bit left out.

On the surface, everything seems normal. The systems operate the way they’re supposed to. My crew is doing its work, stopping periodically to eat and talk. The lights keep shining, the station’s rings keep turning, and all the status reports have green lights.

But there are things I’m missing. My people react to things I can’t see, as if there’s a glitch in reality. Their expressions turn suddenly sad or angry, and then they tense defensively because they know whatever – whomever – they’re seeing isn’t real.

It doesn’t last long. Their heads turn as if they’re tracking something, their gazes meet a turn in the corridor, and then the weight lifts from their shoulders. Exit, stage left, I suppose, by those players I can’t see. Are the ghosts being chased away by disbelief? Are they not strong enough to stay and insist on their presence? Or do they see the pain they’re inflicting and retreat from it?

Last night, I caught a glimpse of my captain’s expression when he was going into his visitor’s quarters. It wasn’t just sadness: heart-tearing grief stopped him in his tracks as he stared into the room. He shook his head, and I could have sworn there were tears in his eyes as he whispered, “You’re not here.” Then he stepped inside and let the door close behind him.

I gave him his privacy. Whatever he was dealing with in there, it’s his and I have to respect that. But I did monitor his bio-signs, just in case. He was upset for a long time. I think it was his family. Or maybe Danika. Possibly even Dr Cirilli, though I would have expected more guilt mixed in with his pain if it was her; he still blames himself for her death.

There are so many possibilities and that makes me sad for him, too.

I shouldn’t try to guess; it goes nowhere good. And it doesn’t feel fair to ask. Does it really matter who they see, or just that they’re seeing people who aren’t really there?

I can’t help but think of the station commander’s changing attitude. She was distressed at first, and terribly determined, but by the end, she was grateful for the extra time with her dead love. She smiled sadly and warmly, and succumbed to the inevitable. She lay down and died.

Maybe it does matter who it is. Maybe I should ask.

I asked Elliott earlier and that was weird and confusing.

Log recorded: 14:52, 9 July 2214
Location: Port-side Bridge access corridor

(Elliott is in his suit, tipping his helmet up as he squints at the readout hovering above his left forearm. His right hand presses a scanner to a long, welded scar in the wall.)

ELLIOTT: How’re the rest of the integrity checks coming, Starry?

STARRY: (voice only) Most of my sectors are coming back clean. I’m getting some fluctuations from where you are, and Cargo Bay 4.

ELLIOTT: (glances to his left and nods) Yeah, I’m getting some instability here. (He blinks, then frowns at the projected readouts again.) What does Cargo Bay 4 look like?

STARRY: Like an airlock seal might have warped slightly. I’m sending Casper down to have a closer look; I don’t have good sensor coverage in that area right now.

ELLIOTT: (nods again, this time staring intently at the display.)

STARRY: You just saw her again, didn’t you?

ELLIOTT: What?

STARRY: Danika. You can see her?

ELLIOTT: (lets his gaze slide left) No. Not Danika: you.

STARRY: Me? Are you sure?

ELLIOTT: (scowls and turns to face the wall determinedly) Yeah, I know the difference. Fucking hell, Starry.

STARRY: (confused) But I’m not dead.

ELLIOTT: I know.

STARRY: But–

ELLIOTT: Just gimme the damn stress readings and shut up.

I don’t understand. I’m right here but he’s seeing my ghost. I’m not dead! But I guess I’m not really alive either. Would I even have a ghost? Why would he see me? How would whatever’s causing this know to make him see me?

The commander said in her log that ‘most’ of the ghosts were of dead people. Most, not all. This isn’t the first time this has happened.

But I haven’t seen any reports of mistaken identity in the logs or people being in two places at once. No obvious incidents of someone on the station being seen as a ghost; I would have expected at least some trouble and accusations if that was the case.

Does that mean that people here are never ghosts? But people who are elsewhere and may or may not be dead, are?

This is weird. The captain is asleep; I can’t ask him. Maybe the doctor can shed some light.

Station comms
Location: Med Bay

STARRY: (voice only) Excuse me, doctor?

DR SOCKS: (starts and blinks at the display in front of him, which is hovering patiently in the middle of a medical diagnostic report) Yes, Starry?

STARRY: Do you have any theories behind who people are seeing?

DR SOCKS: I… am not sure what you mean. (His gaze slides to his right, then returns to the display.) It’s supposed to be dead people, isn’t it?

STARRY: The station staff reported that only most of them were dead. And my avatar has been seen but I’m definitely not projecting or glitching.

DR SOCKS: You’re hardly normal, though.

STARRY: Well, no, I guess not…

DR SOCKS: (leans his elbows on his desk and drops his head into his hands) You’re saying that not everyone we see is necessarily dead?

STARRY: That’s right.

DR SOCKS: (rakes his hands through his hair and lifts his head again) Why are you telling me this?

STARRY: I thought it might help us figure out how this is happening, if we can understand what determines who we see. Who you see. Then we might be able to work out where the information about them is coming from and why, and… you don’t think this might be useful?

DR SOCKS: I don’t know. Maybe.

STARRY: You sound tired, doctor. Are you all right?

DR SOCKS: I’m fine. What parameters do you have to define the subjects of the hallucinations?

STARRY: They’re not on board the station, and they’re connected to someone who is here. If you can count me as not being on the station. When was the last time you slept?

DR SOCKS: Last night. So the hallucinations are all of people we know and… miss?

STARRY: What makes you think missing them has something to do with it?

DR SOCKS: You don’t think that Monaghan misses seeing your avatar?

STARRY: I… but he talks to me all the time, and…

DR SOCKS: (lifts an eyebrow and taps fingertips on the surface of his desk.)

I’m right here. Elliott misses me? I don’t know what to do with that. My avatar means that much to him?

I suppose it is how we’ve touched and been… together. Avatars. It would make sense that he would miss that. Even though I’m right here.

STARRY: Oh. I see. Do you think missing someone is all there is to it?

DR SOCKS: (shrugs) No, but it could be a common factor.

STARRY: That suggests fondness and I don’t think that’s universally true. How many people are you seeing right now, other than your patients?

DR SOCKS: (turns his head and stares into the middle distance) Four. What makes you think fondness isn’t an issue?

STARRY: Um… it’s easier if I show you a log I came across earlier.

DR SOCKS: (nods and waves the diagnostic report onto a side projector, out of the way.)

STARRY: (activates the main display in front of him.)

(The log displayed shows a public thoroughfare through the station with a steady flow of people moving along it. A disruption is visible in the far corner of the sensor’s range: a small body is pushing through the lightly-sprinkled traffic. A thin teenaged girl rushes into view, careening off people and looking around with wide-eyed panic. Her breathing is short and sharp, and she slithers to a stop at an intersection.

She glances back over her shoulder and immediately shrieks, lifting an arm as if to fend something away from her face. Her other hand grapples with an object under the flapping hem of her shirt, and the next moment, she’s firing a hand-held weapon back the way she came.

People fall and scrabble, some from surprise, some with burning holes punched right through them. The screaming multiplies and the teenager fires with apparent abandon, without seeming to look at what she’s hitting. A few seconds after the first shot, security pound into view and the sensor’s area fills up with gas. Emergency lights blink blue over the area, calling for medical help.

The log pauses on the moment a SecOff tears the gun from the girl’s hand and punches her in the face.)

DR SOCKS: What was that?

STARRY: She was shooting at a delusion. From the attached reports, she had been sexually assaulted shortly before her family moved to the station. According to her confession, she was shooting at the man who attacked her. She killed seven real people.

DR SOCKS: (runs his hand through his hair again, scowling at the paused log) Is that an isolated incident?

STARRY: It’s hard to say, but I doubt it. You’ve seen as many reports into unnatural deaths as I have – how many do you think were the result of being haunted by someone they didn’t want to see?

DR SOCKS: More than a few. The sheer number of suicides and psychological breaks suggest that these people didn’t want to see some of their ghosts. Fear and guilt drove a lot of them to their deaths. (He glances to his right, his frown hardening.) No, you’re right: fondness has nothing to do with it. Maybe it’s the level of emotional attachment that’s the determining factor, not the quality of the emotion itself.

STARRY: (quietly) Dr Valdimir, who is it that you’re seeing right now?

DR SOCKS: (tears his gaze back to his desk, and then angrily waves the projected log away) No-one. They’re not here.

STARRY: Maybe you should come back to the lounge for a while.

DR SOCKS: I’m fine! I don’t need babysitting.

STARRY: Doctor, everyone on this station thought they were fine, that they could handle it. And I’m still your ship. Let me help you stay fine. You don’t have to do this all on your own.

DR SOCKS: I don’t need your help, Starry. Stay out of it.

STARRY: You’re not even talking to the Lieutenant…

DR SOCKS: I said, stay out of it! I’m not here to shore up your undying need to be useful to us.

STARRY: (quiet for a stunned moment) …that’s not why I…

DR SOCKS: Of course it is. Go stare at someone else. Comms off.

Comms channel terminated

I… that’s not… I don’t…

I don’t know what to say to that. I’m his ship; I’m supposed to want to be useful. He says it like it’s a bad thing. It’s how I’m coded! It’s how I’m a good ship.

I try not to be obnoxious about it. I give them their freedom. I only butt in if I have to. But I have to watch over them; they need an electronic eye right now. Someone with sensors rather than senses has to keep them straight.

And I don’t stare. I don’t have eyelids. I…

He’s just upset. He doesn’t trust me enough yet. And someone there makes him feel bad. He keeps sending the Lieutenant away, so he’s not getting comfort or anything else right now. How can I do anything but worry about him when he’s so obviously struggling?

Dammit, I still want to help him. Maybe I am trying too hard. Maybe I should give them their privacy in this. I’ll just let him cool down and see what happens. And keep an eye on him, because even if he doesn’t like it, I’m not going to stop. I’m not going to give up like the station did.

We know more than we did before. We know that emotional attachment is important. But how does whatever is causing this know who people have strong emotional attachments to? Are they guessing from records? What records? No-one could have predicted I’d bring us here, and there haven’t been any intrusions into my files since I’ve been here.

What’s left? Pulling this stuff directly out of my people’s heads? Elliott’s cerebral implant was hacked once before; could there be a new, more sophisticated way to do that, something we haven’t been able to detect yet? Extracting information through implants? What other option is there? Some kind of telepathy?

I’ll scan for possible implant hacks. There’d be a signal if that was true. Maybe that’s how it’s projecting the delusions, too, using the implants to place the images directly into the brain.

But if all that’s true, why didn’t the station’s personnel pick it up? I guess there’s no harm in looking anyway, right?

I still feel left out of whatever my crew is going through right now. There’s a part of me that wishes I was closer to them. But I don’t know who I’d see. I don’t know who I’d want to see.

No, I’m better off this way. My crew are better off, too; someone needs to keep a handle on what’s real. I just need to find a better way to help them.

Which reminds me: it’s time to turn the personnel distress alerts back on. If anyone gets into trouble on this station, I want everyone to know about it. My people are not going to be corpses dusted off by idiotic drones; we’re smarter than that.

So come on, idiot station AI, let’s make you track people properly again. And let’s get back to refining the life sign detection to give us a proper location. We’re narrowing the signals down to three areas. I’m hoping to be able to track them soon.

And then maybe we’ll see what the survivors of this station have to say about all this.