An automaton carrying a sleek red toolbox walked toward the Cryogenic Distribution Hub Number Three. It moved in silence, ignoring the peers passing by, each one occupied with its own assignment. The designated bulkhead authenticated its clearance wirelessly and let it through.
The service corridor lights had been shut down to conserve power. In their place, the translucent coolant conduits running the length of the walls cast everything in a cold, steady blue.
When the robot finally reached its destination, it found nothing visibly wrong. Yet the priority alert kept flagging the same issue:
Cryogenic Distribution Manifold #3A.
Transient coolant pressure anomaly recorded.
Maintenance required.
The cited manifold was responsible for keeping 50,000 passengers in cryogenic sleep inside their pods. A simple pressure fluctuation was enough to compromise all of them.
Isabella—the main AI overseeing the Santa María—could no longer put this off.
The consequences could be fatal.
Three weeks had passed since the incident. In the early days, restoring essential systems had taken absolute priority. Damaged sections had been sealed off, every engine inspected stem to stern, every reactor reinforced well enough to keep the ship running.
Permanent repairs could wait.
Until now.
The automaton stopped before the manifold's access hatch and popped the maintenance panel open. It then ran a full diagnostic sweep: coolant pressure, flow rate, temperature differentials, and valve response times.
One hose returned the anomalous reading. Its coupling had been slowly degrading, the material embrittled by three weeks of uneven pressure fluctuations.
Good. It knew what to do now.
The automaton reached for the upstream isolation valve to stop the coolant flow and relieve the residual pressure—before its vision went dark.
Silence.
Rebooting.
Visual feed restored.
The isolation valve no longer occupied the center of its vision. It was facing the faulty hose instead.
The automaton paused.
Had it already closed the valve?
Consulting its own action log returned a positive.
The automaton accepted the recorded state and continued.
It selected a release tool from the toolbox and disengaged the locking collar. The connector separated with a sharp metallic click—before a pressurized jet of supercooled coolant erupted from the exposed conduit.
The automaton reacted instantly as the hose lurched beneath the escaping pressure. It seized the hose with its left hand, forcing the jet away from the surrounding regulators, while its right hand retrieved the replacement coupling and guided it into position.
Once installed, the robot rotated the locking collar twice until a solid click echoed through the manifold.
Repair complete.
The status changed to stable as the automaton glanced at the serpentine trail of ice stretched across the floor.
Job done.
It reached for its toolbox before its entire left forearm fractured cleanly away and struck the deck with a dull metallic clang.
The automaton looked at the severed limb for less than a second.
An accident like this had not been accounted for.
Backtracking through its recorded actions, it isolated the anomaly: the unexplained interruption in its visual feed, followed by the false confirmation in its action log.
The damage the Singular had done to the Santa María—and its automatons—still lingered.
After filing its report, Unit number 451 picked up its toolbox with its remaining arm and walked out of the hub.
Isabella would have to patch every single automaton on the ship yet again.
4.1
Stepping out of an elevator, the automaton reached the maintenance bay. It passed through worktables piled high with hardware and spare parts. If it had a sense of humor, it might have mentioned aloud that the place looked like a graveyard, or maybe a mad scientist's lab. But joking so casually was not in its nature.
A young man with grease on his cheeks poked his head out from behind a disjointed robot torso and grinned. His red hair was a wild, messy tangle.
"Hey, Ashley! What's up?" He then frowned. "Whoa. What happened to your arm?"
"I need a replacement. That's all," the robot said in a flat, even tone.
Another automaton standing still in the corner of the workshop came to life, a pair of white eyes lighting up on its black face display. It bore the number 011 on its chest and spoke in a high, girlish voice. "Oh, no! What kind of freak accident were you in this time?"
Unit 011 reached behind its back, disconnected the charging cable, and came closer.
"I was in one of the Cryogenic Distribution Hubs. Doing maintenance. That's all," Ashley replied matter-of-factly, then caught Alan's narrowed gaze. "What is it?"
"You know, you hardly visit us anymore unless you need fixing."
"T-True! What gives?!" the other automaton squealed.
"Apologies," Ashley began, its head lowered slightly. "I didn't realize you two valued my company. Maybe I'll start coming by on my breaks. We could play some chess?"
Alan held his judgmental stare a couple of seconds longer before breaking into a grin.
"Deal! Though you always win." He pulled a stool over. "Come on, take a seat." He then turned to the other robot. "Olivia, give me a hand, please."
"Right on it!"
Alan glanced at the damage and whistled. "This looks nasty! Easy fix, though." He smiled at the unit. "Hey, at least it's not your real arm. Huh."
Ashley looked away. "I'm lucky."
Alan nodded and wandered off between the dozens of tables scattered through the bay. Meanwhile, Olivia picked up a servo wrench and started detaching what remained of Ashley's left shoulder.
"Seriously, Ashley, it's almost like Isabella hands you the most dangerous jobs on purpose!" Olivia yelped.
"I was thinking the same thing. Seems like constantly disagreeing with her comes at a cost."
"Found one!" Alan called out, holding an entire left arm aloft like a trophy. "Got some scratches, but we can't be picky when times are this rough, am I right?"
"That's right. As long as it's functional. Thanks, Alan."
Alan dropped into his rolling chair, planted one foot against his workbench, and pushed himself over to Ashley.
"So? How's the ship coming along?" he asked, getting to work.
"We're aiming for 60% stability by next week."
"Seriously? Nice!"
"That's great news!" Olivia chimed in, clapping. "All thanks to your efforts."
"Yours too, maintenance team."
Alan snorted. "Come on. I bet this little workshop has hardly contributed anything to the big picture."
"Don't sell yourself short. You help us out every time our units break down. How could we keep working otherwise?"
Alan said nothing as he fitted the new arm into place.
In the moment that followed, with only the clink of metal breaking the silence, Ashley glanced at the blue woven bracelet on his wrist.
He had wanted so badly to get back to his cryopod and find it, Ashley recalled, replaying the memory of his expression when it had finally brought it to him.
He had looked so relieved.
"Is that bracelet a gift from Astrid Bradford?" Ashley blurted out, and Alan's eyes narrowed.
"How do you know that?"
Frowning, Alan turned to the other automaton, who seemed to flinch where it stood.
A chime sounded as the elevator doors slid open, and an automaton numbered 031 stepped in, carrying Alan's lunch on a tray.
A honeyed voice came through the unit's speakers. "What a lovely surprise, seeing all my favorite people together! That includes you too, Ashley!"
"Hey, Erina. Good to see you!" Olivia waved enthusiastically while Ashley stayed quiet.
After struggling to find an open spot on the crowded tables, the robot set the tray down over a detached breastplate. "Here's today's lunch, Alan, sweetie. I even snuck you a chocolate pudding, as a little reward for all your hard work~!"
"Thanks, Erina, you're the best. Though won't Umi notice if it's missing?"
"Let me worry about her when the time comes, okay?" Erina said, disappearing back into the elevator.
"Try not to throw your food this time," Ashley blurted out.
"Oh, come on!" Alan shouted. "It's been three weeks! Just let it go already, okay?"
The automaton looked back at him. "Never."
The spare arm finally locked into place with a satisfying click.
"There. Nice and done. Try moving the hand, Ashley."
The robot did, easily twisting the wrist a full 360 degrees. "Outstanding work, as always. Thanks, Alan."
"You already thanked me," he muttered, rising from his seat and heading back to his previous task.
Ashley stood rooted in place, hands at its sides, running a system check—it was mandatory protocol to test any hardware Alan Warden installed.
When the system came back with an 'All Clear,' it glanced at the food tray in the distance.
"Isn't it lunchtime already?"
"Later. After I'm done with this," Alan replied.
The two automatons looked at each other.
"Sorry, Ashley. He can be pretty stubborn," Olivia said apologetically.
Ashley stood up. "And why did Erina bring your lunch here? Aren't you using the cafeteria?"
"I've been avoiding it. I mean, why bother? I'd be the only one there anyway, so it's the same if I eat here." Alan yanked at a robotic carcass with more force than necessary. "It'd be a different story if you guys could actually be there with me," he muttered.
Another stretch of silence, broken only by the whir and click of the servo wrench.
Ashley stood there, eyes on the floor, before nodding. It strode toward Alan with determined steps and grabbed his forearm.
"Come with me."
"Whoa. What are you doing?"
"You need a break. Come." The robot picked up the food tray on its way to the elevator, where security granted access without a hitch.
Olivia managed to slip in at the last second. "Wait for me!"
Once inside, Alan let out a breath. "Are you taking me to the cafeteria? Come on, it'll look pathetic if I'm eating alone in front of you."
"We're not going there," the robot answered, its black display fixed straight ahead.
Alan checked the elevator panel and saw that every floor had been unlocked.
"Ashley, I can't leave my station."
Olivia chimed in. "True. He'll get in trouble if Isabella—"
"You're on break. Besides, as long as you don't wander into any restricted areas, you'll be fine." Ashley finally let go of his arm and handed him the tray.
Alan took it, a little apprehensively.
The doors slid open onto a corridor that looked no different from any Alan had seen before.
"You must be sick of your room and the maintenance bay by now, aren't you?" Ashley said, leading the way. "A break from the monotony should do you some good."
When the bulkhead's light turned green for the three of them, Alan stepped into a pitch-black room.
"Lights on," he said aloud. Nothing happened.
Then he noticed a tiny white dot above.
Then another. Then dozens.
Soon, the oval ceiling was lit with celestial points of light that took Alan a moment to place.
"Is this a view of space? Wait, no—at the speed the Santa María's traveling, there's no way we'd actually see a thing."
"You're correct," Ashley said. "During its voyage, the Santa María is constantly scanning its surroundings. So what we're seeing must be what it picked up hours ago."
"So we've already left this part of the universe behind," Alan said in awe, taking in a nebula bleeding violet and amber at the edge of the dome.
Ashley settled onto a bench, and Alan followed, unable to tear his eyes from the sight above for even a moment, the food tray still in his hands.
"What is this place?"
"Think of it as a recreational room. That's its only purpose. You won't find any machinery here besides the displays," Olivia explained, her tone turning soft and distant. "Records say former Captain Robert Bosniak personally asked the Alvearium engineers to build a room like this. He said, and I quote: 'The staff needs a reminder that this vessel is nothing more than a leaf slowly drifting on an infinite ocean.'"
Alan turned to Ashley, who was taking in the astral scenery through its optical lenses.
Olivia stood beside the bench, hands behind its back, sulking a little at the view.
"You knew about this place too, Olivia? So you guys come here a lot?" he asked.
"I do," Olivia replied. "I've tried showing it to the others, but nobody seems interested. With Ashley, I actually had to drag her here once, and she still said it was a waste of time."
"Don't make unnecessary remarks, Olivia…" Ashley said sternly.
"S-Sorry!"
Alan finally glanced down at his lunch and chuckled. "A break from the monotony, huh?" he said, taking his first bite.
His companions stood in silence as he ate—Alan looking smaller than he had any right to, eating alone beneath a ceiling full of stars while two remote units watched.
Once he finished, Alan checked his wristwatch. "I guess it's time to get back to work."
"Is it true you worked for Kintech?" Ashley asked, breaking the calm of the observatory.
"Ashley!" Olivia shrieked. "Don't!"
"Who told you that?" Alan asked, his voice hardening, setting the tray aside.
Ashley shrugged. "I read your profile."
"Why would you do that? Wait—do you even have access to that?" He frowned deeply, then exhaled. "What, doesn't the fact that Isabella let me run the workshop already give it away?"
"There could be plenty of explanations for your technical training," Ashley continued. "But what's really interesting is that you used to work at… that place." The automaton paused, and Alan's lips pressed into a thin line. "That's where everything started, isn't it?"
"No—I mean yes—I couldn't say, because I wasn't part of it," he said, his voice rising. "You think I was on the assembly line? On the committee that approved that batch?"
Olivia's voice went squeaky. "A-Alan, I don't think Ashley's implying that!"
Alan shut his eyes and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Look, I don't know what the rest of the staff might be saying about me, but I'm already in solitary confinement, okay? That's me—Alan Warden, the dangerous criminal, banned from every part of the ship except the workshop and the cafeteria. Heck, Isabella won't even let me get near you two except through these remote units bridging the gap. So the last thing I need right now is you two fishing for information or trying to catch me in some gotcha moment. I already told Isabella everything I know!"
"Alan, please calm down," Olivia said, palms raised. "Ashley must have its reasons to—"
"And why are you acting more jumpy than usual?" He turned to Olivia. "Are you in on this too?"
"W-Well. I read your profile too—but just to—!"
"What? Just to what?!" he snapped, standing up so fast Ashley rose with him. "And what's with that comment about the bracelet?" He raised his arm. "Is watching security footage from my time at Alvearium headquarters part of your job too?"
"It is," Ashley replied instantly. "You're suspected of treason. Don't forget that."
He already knew that. Still, hearing it said so casually—by someone he talked to regularly—stung.
Alan kept his eyes locked on Olivia. "Is that why you volunteered to be my assistant? To keep tabs on me?"
Olivia went stiff, shoulders drawing up tight, hesitating for a second before the words came out in a rush. "Alan, we're not your enemies. We just want to be able to trust you!"
Alan studied the unit's tense posture. As he understood it, each remote unit in front of him mirrored the movements of the real person operating it, who was safe in some secure location far away from him.
Every staff member he had talked to and interacted with—so far, only four—used units just like this one.
For their own protection, Alan thought bitterly, looking away.
"You want to trust me, but the evidence keeps piling up against me. Is that what you're saying?"
"Isabella can't hear us here, you know," Ashley said flatly.
Alan glanced around with a frown.
"Like I said, one of my many jobs is to investigate you… I mean… It's the job of both of us. And we—"
"And we think someone set you up…" Olivia cut in.
Those words, and the fact that someone actually believed in his innocence…
Alan needed that.
He had not been sleeping right. He had lost weight. For weeks.
He sank back into his seat, his gaze drifting to a single bright star at the center of the dome.
So there was a light at the end of the tunnel after all.
That meant he could go back to the Novus.
Back to her…
"But who would do that?" he asked, suddenly drained.
Olivia crouched in front of him. "Someone from your previous job, obviously. During the cranioplasty—your operation, I mean—someone from Kintech deliberately installed that hellish device in your head, knowing you'd eventually board this ship. Our main suspects are the people involved in the operation, but we're still looking into it."
Alan pressed his hand above his right ear, feeling only his hair and the faint ridge of the plate beneath his skin.
"But that would mean this whole thing was planned a year in advance."
"Do you have any idea who might be behind it? Please, Alan, let us help you. Any suspicion at all that could lead us to whoever's responsible for—" Olivia cut itself off.
The unit could see in Alan's expression that his mind had gone completely blank. He stared into nothing, shaking his head slightly.
"I'm sorry for pushing you." The automaton stood. "We didn't mean to shock you like this. But please, think it over. We need to find whoever did this. Who knows when another sleeper agent might release another virus."
Sleeper agent?
Alan knew what that term meant. But did it apply to him?
If someone who knew I'd be on this voyage installed that thing… that would make me one.
A sleeper agent. A puppet.
A silhouette flashed through his mind.
He did not want to disappoint Olivia and Ashley just yet by telling them he had no idea who could have done it. Heck, the culprit could be someone Alan had never even spoken to—someone with the entire Kintech medical bay on their payroll.
But if someone held a gun to his head and demanded a name right now… someone did come to mind.
No. Impossible.
"But… what if that person's not even here anymore? What if they stayed on Earth?"
Ashley tried to read Alan's microexpressions, but his head hung too low.
Olivia took his hands. "It doesn't matter. We still need to understand their motive. And you need to clear your name, don't you? You won't be able to go back to the Novus otherwise."
"The one who gave you that bracelet must miss you terribly," Ashley added.
This time, Alan snickered.
These girls are really pushing it.
"Would you trust us, Alan?" Olivia asked softly.
He stared at the blank display on the robot's head and failed to picture the woman who might be behind it.
I don't have any other choice.
He nodded in silence before the two returned to their stations.
The following morning, Alan realized someone had left his breakfast earlier than usual.
Without giving it much thought, he shuffled toward his table before spotting something extra sitting there.
Something wrapped in paper, with a repurposed storage sticker stuck on top. In the space meant for a production date, it read: 'Do it for her, Alan.'
His heart skipped as he tore into the wrapping: a digital photo frame, showing Astrid.
Despite the image being too sterile and formal, most likely pulled from her passenger profile, her beauty still broke through: golden hair, crystalline blue eyes, and a delicate, oval-shaped face that made his chest tighten.
He swiped, and another photo appeared, this one taken from the Alvearium Enterprises cafeteria security camera. She sat alone, just about to dig into her meal. He swiped again. Left, left, left. The last photo showed Alan himself, beside a smiling Astrid, moments before they both entered the cryo chambers and logged into the Novus.
Alan sank into his seat, his lower lip twitching, before a bitter smile crept across his face.
"You two are really pushing my buttons…"