text: Pinpricks of light illuminated the wayward ship against the interstellar void. The long, slender vessel proudly bore decades of wear on its white and grey hull. Scars and black scorch marks broke long stretches of its smooth surface. Collisions with minute objects could gouge marks into the hull traveling faster than light, and thousand-degree kelvin spikes were the mildest effect of a perturbed warp field. Past its prime but far from disrepair, it fell through space at sublight speed with patient grace. All external lights were dark, and the engine was cold as the void it traveled in. Seemingly lifeless, it was far from the nearest star - a single speck on the black velvet of space, growing imperceptivity closer. A common exploratory ship could spend five years charting the Deep, but the *Holiday* averaged ten. To spend years in a metal can separated from civilization, safe for the typical twenty crewmembers, could provoke the worst in humanity. It was not uncommon for ships to set course into the Deep and never return, but five years was considered the limit to human endurance in the endless reach past colonized space. Deep Sickness was more a rumor than a fact, but veterans of these expeditions knew better; it stalked their crew in every voyage. The symptoms were hard to see for outsiders, or new crew, but they assaulted everyone with indifference. When the fifth year was closing, some people chose to not see it - hiding behind the eyes. The plague of suspicion beyond diagnosis. Real onset was never reported, presumptively dooming the poor voyage to never return. Emptiness was a presence the crew could feel, and the hollow fact that they might never return spared no one’s peace of mind. Within the aft of the vessel, the second crew stirred as their rotation was about to begin. A room petered to life, the walls lined with twenty adjacent chambers, two high and ten long, separated by a neat row of lockers. Lights dimmed to life as displays for each cabinet activated. The suspense pods entered the final revival phase. Damage to soft tissues had been mended and adrenaline restarted their hearts. Each opened simultaneously, sliding second crewmembers out from the sensory, injection, and encumbering suspension equipment they had been under for five of the last nine - except for one remaining sealed. \- Captain Dracard opened his eyes and eased himself upright on the ice tray. The ambient air felt lukewarm on his exposed body. Disorientation would fade in a few minutes before he could get to the shower without hurting himself, but he had to fight the urge to go sooner. He could feel each of his bones like icicles inside his body - which wasn’t wrong, since his body was 10C but hard tissues were still closer to 0. The antifreeze serum kept crew mostly intact through the process, but it was really just another pain in the ass. One more expedition contract and Dracard would retire to a colony and leave this life behind. Still sluggish, he climbed down from the second row using the tray below him after Levingston got up. Amanda Levingston was his first officer for the last two voyages, and he had a hard time keeping his eyes to himself before and after being put on ice. Sometimes he would allow himself a couple brief glances at the attractive crewmembers, but he did his best to stay professional. With Levingston it was more than professionalism, though. On the last expedition their chemistry was more akin to family and he resolved to keep it uncomplicated. As the rest of the crew staggered into the shared showers, Dracard began his mental workouts to prepare for duty. Recounting street names, colonies and moons, all sorts of places and things along with a few riddles mixed in helped him break the bends after suspension. The practice was tried and true, so he was the first to realize they were missing someone. Adnan Montgomery did not wake from stasis. Standing in front of the chamber, Dracard read the display diagnostics: tissue regeneration failure. He was braindead, caused by an occasional fluke in the process. A null percent risk did not deter many people, but it accounted for over 1,000 annual deaths in interstellar travel. At least his family could collect the insurance. The Science Officer was a quiet one, on his first tour of the Deep, so Dracard could not feel any grief. But it meant their new charting data wouldn’t be sorted until they returned now. Something else felt off, but he couldn’t place the source of the feeling. The other 18 crew began leaving the showers with renewed life, a bounce in each step and chatter filling the air. Many took a moment to give homage to the lost crewmember before going to their lockers and getting dressed. They joked with each other or looked through their personal affects, trying to distract themselves from the loss and prepare for work. Dracard was half-dressed himself when he caught himself staring into this locker, at nothing in particular. “I like to think about how half of our pay is for five years of sleeping,” Levingston spoke over someone’s dirty joke that was at the periphery of his awareness. Two of the engineers, Jacobs and Muhammad, were talking about old sexual conquests from their downtime on different colonies. “Yeah, it almost makes the trip worth it when we only gotta work half the time.’ Dracard answered. He couldn’t force a smile to meet her. Whatever bothered him was almost at the head of his awareness. It was something bad. Jacobs rolled up a towel and slapped Riggs on the ass while she was reaching into her locker, prompting a hellish rebuke with a wrench to his stomach. Levingston yelled at him from her own locker, but it was clear Riggs had the situation under control. “Guys always animals after thawing? It’s someone new every time. Daws and Easler did the same shit last up.” Her question went unanswered as Dracard’s gaze fell on the room exit. The door was closed and the hallway dark. Pulling his jumpsuit a little higher on his waist, he deftly walked to the door. “Drake? Dracard? Captain?” Levingston pestered him as he ignored her. Using his full mental capacities, he valiantly tried to form a thought but could only continue forward as time slowed with each step. A question was on his mind, which footfall levied to gently prompt the thought to come forward. The door opened for him, following with the hallway lights switched on. A sinking feeling filled his chest and panic overwhelmed him as he stood in the doorway, staring at the blank wall ahead of him. *The first crew is missing.* It must have been at least a minute that he stood there, because Levingston was behind him now, trying to get his attention quietly. “Drake... Talk to me. Please just fucking say something.” She said hushed. Dracard felt his blood drained like he was in stasis again. Levingston understood now, too, and was trying to stay calm. More importantly, she was trying not to be noticed by the other crewmembers. When Dracard looked at her he could not conceal his expression. A pale face, unfocussed eyes that looked unable but begging to cry. Her expression matched his own for a moment as she looked away, then pushed him into the hallway letting the door close behind them. “No Drake. We’re not going to die here. We. Are. Not. Going to fucking die.” She spoke barely louder than a whisper and pressed a finger hard into his chest, clearly trying to convince the both of them. Finally collecting himself, Dracard placed his hands on her shoulders and moved her an inch back. “Listen to me,” his voice was clear and confident, resolved to be the captain she needed; what everyone was going to need. “We are going to face the hardest challenge of our lives,” he continued as boldly as he could muster. “The first thing we need to do is figure out what happened to First Crew. But whatever will happen to us from here on has already been decided, Amanda. There are scarce few moments in history where people are tested the way we will be, the first time anyone beats the odds. “All we can do, Amanda, is our very best. And that is all we will focus on, the two of us. Because if that is not enough, then our fate is already sealed whether we know it or not. Come to terms with that, because we can’t show the others. They can’t think there’s a chance we won’t make it, because that will doom us for sure. Can you handle this?” Levingston tried to stifle the terror in her eyes as he spoke to her but each sentence dropped like an anvil. She wanted reassurance that they would survive the journey, but in hearing his sobering truth knew he was right. Whether they would survive or not could well be out of their hands, but there was still a chance they might return home. “We need the crew to level their heads before they hear the news,” she suggested. Crew shifts alternated every year, and suspension was supposed to lower their stress hormones so they could spend longer in the Deep, but everyone was at their limit. Three fourths of this shift was meant for returning home, so the crew’s optimism would soon be ripped from their mental wellbeing with the like a predator tearing live flesh from its prey. “Good idea. And Amanda, if they don’t have faith in us, then they’re going to break like...” He bit his tongue and looked down the hallway toward the rest of the silent ship. “Like first crew did...” she finished his thought. They observed the crew from the closed door. Some of the men were still harassing Riggs, Chrisjen, Tali and Gao even though they were mostly covered now. Besides Riggs, the women teased them right back, but she preferred dealing bruises where they were earned. In all, they looked to be having fun. When ten minutes passed and neither Captain nor first officer interrupted their jeers, they noticed Dracard and Levingston outside the room and finished dressing. Dracard entered the room with Levingston close behind, prompting a somber mood among the men and women who had just been euphorically looking forward to beginning the trip home. He asked everyone to form a huddle between the lockers and their suspense chambers. They locked arms around him. Deep crews had their own culture of being close together and sharing contact to stave off the feelings of isolation. Everyone locked arms and began to sway while Dracard began an old voyage song. *I left the oceans, I left the breeze,* *...Got only the dirt left on my knees...* *I said my prayer, made my wish,* *...To see her again, that gorgeous bitch...* *And like a good husband, I know I’ll return,* *...To see the sky, taste sweet air, and then...* *I’ll promise my wife, to stay and be dear* *...Till like a good sailor, I’ll leave her again!* The cheer settled and Dracard stepped back. The huddle broke and most of the crew’s posture showed they knew hew as about to share bad news, but they assumed it would be related to Montgomery. Riggs said something to Jacobs and Mohammad, who had a hard time concealing their somber reaction. Everyone waited for him to continue as he searched for his voice. “This is no one’s first time in the Deep. We all set out here knowing the risks, knowing that not everyone returns. It is with sorrow that I report to you that first crew is unaccounted for.” He waited for the reaction to subside. “I do not know their fate, but if they have not reported for stasis, I suspect all hands have been lost. We will perform our duties, and we will see home again. Most importantly, we will trust each other. As soon as we figure out what’s happened here we will immediately embark on the return.” Everyone steeled themselves, pondering the information that was missing. They all knew rumors about Deep Sickness, and it was the only explanation for an entire crew going missing. But also no afflicted ships ever returned to tell fact from fiction. Some rumors were about radiation causing debilitating mutations, or even monsters in the Deep. Most rumors were just about crew going crazy and killing each other or destroying the ship. At least, as far as they could tell, their vessel was still intact. “We will proceed with caution and remember our training,” the Captain continued, “imagination can be as fatal as a system failure, so stay alert. Levingston and I will go straight to the bridge. I want groups of three or four to explore the rest of the ship and meet in the messroom before reporting to your stations. That is all.” No one had the guts to ask questions as an uncomfortable silence made the room stale, so Levingston broke the silence for morale. “Do you think we’ll be on time returning home?” It was a stupid question, but it was all she could manage. “I think we can count on some leniency if we’re late, but if we woke up on time then we can scrap the expedition schedule and get underway as soon as this is behind us. Salvaging the expedition ought to be worth a good bonus.” He appreciated saying something optimistic. Leaving the crew with their orders, Dracard exited the room with Levingston, both trying to exude an air of confidence. Others soon followed and he heard someone jogging to catch up to him. Riggs had patiently waited for them to separate from the others so she wouldn’t be overheard. “Captain.” “Speak your mind.” He didn’t put on a facade for her; she was too intuitive to be fooled and he trusted her anyways as one of his oldest shipmates. “What are our odds, sir.” Riggs hesitantly asked. “They are exactly what we make them.” He was trying to be optimistic again, but Riggs knew if he tried any harder it would be lying. “Sir.” She answered plainly and stopped where she stood, turning to wait for Jacobs and Mohammad. He could faintly make out her deflection when they asked her why she chased after him. “You asked what makes us animals out here...” Dracard was sure no one could hear them speak. “I know. Let’s not talk about it.” She knew the signs as well as he did, she was a quick study. Crews are more rowdy after getting used to each other’s company, but after years alone they got impulsive... and then *wild*. “We’re going to have to.