Sato locks the observation room by hand. Through its broad window, Earth turns beneath a sheet of lightning. On the table lies a paper maintenance log. She opens it to a greasy thumbprint. The gel passed voice authentication yesterday. This morning it passed a retinal scan. The captain ordered every survivor kept asleep until docking. Then the captain disappeared. Sato offers you her hand. A cut crosses her palm. Fresh blood beads along its edge. You nearly take it. Then you notice the little speaker under the table. A recording would know about a cut. It would not know which decision you are about to make. You need control of the ship before you need certainty about her.
Eight survivors. Nine heartbeats. Something aboard your rescue ship is learning to sound human.
Listen closely. Choose carefully. Carry the consequences.
Every path leaves a different story.