Archive of Our Own

Minho is a watchman, a glorified one, sure, but a watchman all the same. 

He starts with camera number 41. He sweeps his gaze from his right and pauses on each camera for thirty seconds. Then he closes his eyes for five seconds and starts again. There are many  mechanisms to ensure that no accident happens such as alarms, triggers and frequent reports by on ground personnel. But Chan is all about the human touch. 

So Minho sits in a cavernous room, keeping an eye on a small swatch of this planet. He is the last hope if all the mechanisms were to fail. It is not a responsibility that he can wear lightly. So Minho winds it around himself tight, lets it cut into his core, bastes in the relentless heat of it. When you have had nothing, Minho has understood, the one thing you do get becomes the essence of you. 

“Plot 87 is a failure,” Felix says, his boots clicking on the bare floor as he comes closer. “Seungmin’s gutted.”

Minho’s blood is ice and fear sinks like hooks into his skin. He keeps his eyes on camera 16. “What happened?” he whispers because this room takes every noise and throws it back at you like a missile. 

“Soil didn’t take,” Felix says and he tilts his head back. “This is terrible. Seungmin has been in a meeting with Changbin for hours now.”

Camera 15. Minho is not one for platitudes. He was once, but their circumstances are such that reality is a jagged shard of glass. It reflects the truth and only the truth. “Let’s see what happens,” he says, falling back on the one thing that remains unchanged. Pushing troubles for the future. 

“Sometimes I don’t want to,” Felix says, “but what choice do I have?”

───────

The space station’s name is Auro – 22. Changbin told him once that when this station was created, interns had spent an entire day looking for translations of  ‘gold’ in various languages.  Minho can’t imagine such a life. A life where the only thing you are responsible for is to name stations and compile reports. He doesn’t begrudge the interns their life. But sometimes he wonders what it is like to be so weightless on the inside.

Auro – 22. Strike gold, folks. 

“We have tough times ahead,” Chan says during dinner, “you might’ve already noticed." His smile is wry and he tips his head towards the plates. “But we have many plans and many brilliant people working on it, so we have to keep moving ahead.”

Minho takes a sip of his soup. It’s cold and there’s a thin film over it, but Minho still eats it, skin and all. Felix pushes his food around, looking heartbroken. Minho can tell why. Seungmin’s not at dinner. 

“Talk to your respective leaders,” Chan says, “I’ve met them all and we’ve hashed out the details. We’ll get through this,” his voice gains an edge, becomes potent as determination tints it. “We’ve done the impossible many times before and we’ll do it again.”

“Let’s strike gold, folks!” Changbin calls and the rest of them repeat it. It's a muted and worn down echo. 

“Let’s strike gold, Auro – 22,” Chan says and his voice is strong, but his eyes look tired. “That’s all for now. Please continue eating.”

───────

Minho is the leader of Operations Control - On Ground Personnel (OGP) #3. What it means is that he is the head of a small group of people who watch over three teams who get sent on missions. But his group comes under the purview of Mission Control, so he has a meeting with Changbin after dinner.

“There’s a new mission,” Changbin says. He huddles into himself and looks small as he leans back against his chair.

Everyone is making themselves smaller, Minho thinks, as he tries to straighten his slumped shoulders. “What is it?” he asks.

“Soil mining,” Changbin says tapping the console built into his desk. A hologram rises up and Changbin taps a few more keys and the hologram swishes through various land masses before settling.

Minho finds it endearing that Changbin uses the effects that they’ve released with the latest update. He doesn’t have it, but he likes it. It is like one of those ancient, revolving globes – one of his previous bosses had one and she let Minho spin it once. He frowns when a name emerges on the hologram. “What the fuck?”

Changbin grimaces. “Exactly. But the experts say that the foliage around the River is probably an indication of nutrient rich soil. Probably, ” he rubs a hand across his face, “I mean yeah, they can probably grow it themselves in the lab, but a live sample will make the process easier. Quicker.” He lets it linger in the air. He drops his gaze, “and a person has volunteered to collect soil samples.”

Minho stares at the hologram and then at Changbin. “But the River is uncharted – how will that person…”

“Guess Han Jisung will have to map out the territory too,” Changbin’s mouth is drawn in a tight line. “And that’s the mission. Keep an eye on him. Keep him alive for as long as possible. You’re his last hope for survival if anything goes wrong.”

Minho remains silent. A clock ticks in the background. Otherwise the room is silent except for their shallow breaths. The unsaid, and things will go wrong echoes in the room. Minho’s throat tightens and those cool hooks sink into his sternum. “What about other volunteers? He’s not going alone, is he?”

“There’s no one to spare,” Changbin’s eyes flicker somewhere beyond Minho. “And we were going to randomly pick someone but he volunteered.” The amorphous mass continues swirling on the hologram.

Minho swallows, clenches his first. “I’ll make sure that he gets his promotion and award.”

“You do that, hyung,” Changbin says, holding out his hand. Minho touches it and the warmth of Changbin’s hand makes his throat ache.

───────

“This is Captain Han Jisung and it is Thursday morning, Earth Measure, 9:00 hours.” His voice is smooth and even, boyish. He’s only twenty-four as per his file. He’s one of the youngest in this station.

“Captain Lee Minho,” Minho says, settling back into his chair. “Details affirmed. Can you turn on your camera?”

There’s a fumbling noise then Jisung curses. Minho winces when there’s a screech and after a few clicking noises, a face appears on his screen. Han Jisung is wide-eyed and sweaty and he beams when he sees Minho. “Hi! Nice to meet you,” he says with a grin.

He has crooked teeth and chubby cheeks. He looks young, but his eyes have a sunken depth to them. Minho smiles back, ignoring the way his heart trips. “Nice to meet you too,” he says, “I’ll take good care of you, Captain. You’re in good hands.”

Jisung nods and his hair flops into his eyes. He flicks it back with a careless gesture. “Thank you. So I am going to be airdropped to the observation point X12 and then I’m going to be hacking my way through the forest.”

“Sounds old school,” Minho says though there’s cold sweat prickling at his neck. X12 is the last mapped point. They didn’t have enough resources to study the forest and the River that lies beyond it. Minho glances at an aerial shot of the forest. It is a dense mass and the light of the sun glints off the thick red leaves.

Jisung hums as he walks. “They should make a movie about me,” he says, adjusting the drone a little. “Is this angle better?”

“Yes. Or they could cast you in a movie,” Minho says before he can stop himself. His ears burn and he picks at his trousers. Just because Jisung is cute doesn’t mean he can say thoughtless things on camera.

Jisung’s eyes widen for a second and then he laughs. “You just made my day,” he says and laughs again, “I am more motivated to protect my face now so that I can try for movies when the mission is complete.”

When the mission is complete. Jisung says it so easily as if it is a given. The follies of youth , Minho thinks, then banishes the thought when guilt prods at him. Anyone would want to be optimistic on such a mission.

“I’ll switch off the camera now,” Jisung says, “I’ll switch it on when I arrive at X12.”

Minho nods. “Safe journey.”

───────

“This is Captain Han Jisung and it is 8 th September, Thursday afternoon, Earth Measure, 13:00 hours.” Jisung is in full uniform now, mask and visor in place. “Reporting from X12.”

“Details Affirmed, Captain Han,” Minho says, glancing at the details scrolling near him. “What are your plans?”

“Walking north,” Jisung says as he looks around him. He glances at the camera again. “I plan to get an understanding of the vegetation and see if I can collect some samples. I’m setting camp at X12 and tomorrow I’ll enter the forest.”

Minho nods. “I have switched on the other cameras,” he puts on his helmet and breathes as his vision adjusts. The vision quality is good but it is tinged purple and red in some areas. He feels like he is suspended in the air somewhere behind Jisung and nausea claws at his throat. “I have a total field of vision and all sensors are set at the highest sensitivity levels.”

“I really do feel like a celebrity,” Jisung jokes as he starts walking. “All these drones following me and you looking over all my movements.”

Something slimy shifts and clicks inside Minho’s mind. He doesn’t want to be uncharitable, but this breeziness is grating. Minho has watched over multiple teams before and they were all grim-faced as they poured their blood and sweat into terraforming this planet. This man on the other hand is behaving as if this is an adventure and not a desperate attempt to save their mission.

“Strike gold, Captain Han,” he says in a monotone. Jisung pauses, but with the helmet on, Minho’s field of vision doesn’t allow him to see his face.

“Thank you?” Jisung says, unsure. “Well from the maps I studied last night  and based on my memory, this looks unchanged,” Jisung says, rushing into another topic.

There’s a brief flare of regret, but Minho purses his lips. He can’t fawn over people just because they’re cute. “All clear from my end.”

“Right.”

Jisung is right. The landscape around X12 looks the same as it did in the maps that the Firsties – the people who are the first to arrive on any planet –  have created. This is a smooth, low lying area with only a few ‘pot pie’ shrubs interrupting the gentle, gradual transition to the forest. Minho had read a report that said that a river probably coursed on both sides of the forest, but an unexplained event caused one side to dry up.

Jisung hums an old song as he walks, stopping to probe the ground a few times. Minho holds his breath as he nears the looming mass of trees. “Okay,” Jisung mutters, “I know that you only have to like, take care of me, but can you talk a little? I hate working in silence.”

Minho suppresses a snort. Wonderful. “Do you want me to read out the stats?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of a conversation,” Jisung says as he kneels down. He sounds hesitant when he says, “if you don’t mind, that is.”

Minho wants to say, “no,” and then do his work  in silence. Though he has adjusted to his field of vision, the effort of it presses like a clamp around his temples. Until Jisung retires to his pod, he’ll have to be on high alert, so talking is another yet another cognitive load he has to handle. “You can talk,” he says. “I have to keep an eye on a lot of stuff, so it’s better if I keep quiet.”

“Alright,” Jisung says, dubious. A pause. “I don’t know what to say,” he confesses.

Minho sighs and rolls his eyes though it jars him and sends pain slicing through his brows. “Just read out the stats to me then.”

Jisung is silent again. “I think I’ll just focus on the task at hand.”

Minho doesn’t say anything.

───────

“How was it?” Minho asks as he enters his office the next day. “Was there any trouble?”

Felix swivels the chair and grins at him. “Nah. We talked a while and then he went to sleep. Nothing unusual outside the pod, but Jisung said he felt eyes on him.” He pauses and swallows a hydration capsule. “So I told him to arm himself when he enters the forest.” He shudders, “I hope he doesn’t have to face any spiders.”

 “They’re shy,” he says, “still, I hope he has the requisite number of training hours.”

Felix shudders again as he stands up. “Those spiders are something else, man.” He zips his coat to his chin, “I’ll see you later, Minho hyung.”

“Wait,” Minho drops into the chair, “how’s Seungmin?” He types in his password to start recording his hours.

Felix’s face falls and he sighs as he runs a hand through his hair. “Terrible. Jisung’s his close friend and they fought before he left and yeah–”

Minho raises a brow. “Oh?”

“Yeah and–” Felix looks around, furtive and scared. He walks back to the desk and leans down till his nose is nearly touching Minho’s ear. “There’s talk of an enquiry commission being sent from HQ. Commander Chan is trying to hold them back, but…” he straightens up, “it’s just – just bad.”

There’s a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. Any negative attention from the faction HQ always ends in tears. A visit will be cataclysmic. He darts a glance at the monitors and turns to face Felix when he sees that Jisung is still not in the range of the camera. “Felix,” he says, unsure and lost, “just – sleep, yeah? Get some sleep.”

Felix gives him a haggard smile and salutes him before leaving. He has left behind some hydration capsules. For the lack of anything to do, he takes one of them and a painkiller. Then he fiddles with the settings until Jisung is ready.

Half an hour later, Jisung says, “This is Captain Han Jisung and it is 9 th September, Friday morning, Earth Measure, 7:00 hours.”

“Details affirmed,” Minho says and tries not to yawn. The head ache after his shift had been fierce and he hadn’t slept that well, too worried about Jisung and the mission. He doesn’t want to be dismissive, but after what Felix said, Jisung’s attitude rankles even more.

“I’m going to start exploring,” Jisung says as he packs his bag, “I will focus on observation, charting and sample collection. Please look out for spiders, Captain, I heard some noise and felt some presence yesterday.”

“Roger,” Minho says, putting on his helmet. His stomach roils as he waits for his vision to settle. The pain that had retreated to the back of his head blooms full force.

“I hate spiders,” Jisung continues as he treks to the forest. “Why are there even monstrous spiders here? Who decided it was a good thing?”

Minho leans back and crosses his legs. “Someone who obviously doesn’t know how exoplanets work,” he says, resisting the urge to massage his head.

Jisung sniffs, “I don’t know if you were given the same talk when you came here, but Chan hyung called them spider cows,” he makes a gagging sound. “Why he thought that it was an accurate description, I don’t know, but the images were gross.”

“I – our briefing was much tamer.” Minho tries hard to not imagine spider cows. He fails and his stomach protests again.

Jisung slashes through branches. “You’re lucky,” he says over the sound of a chainsaw and Minho winces. “He could’ve just said they’re huge or something.”

“Changbin told us that just because they blink and skitter away the moment you see them doesn’t mean they don’t have huge pincers.”

“Thanks, Captain Lee,” Jisung says, sarcasm woven into every syllable, “if I get nightmares I’ll make sure to curse you.”

Minho snorts and frowns when he realises that he is expending energy in conversing. “All clear,” he says brusquely to end this chit-chat.

But Jisung doesn’t seem to understand. He collects kneels down to collect sap from the broken branches. “You know there’s already a sample of this sap at the lab but it doesn’t hurt to have a fresh sample, right?” Minho doesn’t reply but he still goes on. “They’re trying to see if this can be used to make something.”

“That’s the purpose of Auro – 22,” Minho says drily. He doesn’t understand why he isn’t able to resist the urge to keep talking. He is adept at setting boundaries, but maybe it’s the way Jisung speaks – soft, shy and boisterous all at once, his cadence rising and falling as he gets excited. But it is also because of the way Jisung seems so tiny from this point of view; small and all alone.

Jisung laughs. “Even though I don’t know a lot, I know this much,” he says. “Oh shit, sorry I forgot to warn you about using the chainsaw. You can mute if you want.”

As per protocol, they’re not supposed to mute any feed without permission from the on ground personnel. “Thanks,” he says and mutes the audio just as Jisung turns on the chainsaw. He watches the thick branches and shrubs splinter and tear. It is hypnotic that way the vegetation gives into the force of the chainsaw.

Jisung switches off the chainsaw and holds it up. Minho unmutes the mic and says, “tree, three o’clock.”

Jisung turns and steps away from a teetering branch. He studies it carefully and says, “I think it’ll hold.”

“Roger,” Minho says, marking the position on the map they’re sharing.

“So what made you take this mission?” Jisung asks as he inspects the bark of the trees to his left. “Were you assigned or?”

“I’m too low on the hierarchy to pick assignments,” he says. He rolls his shoulder and cracks his neck, “This is the only one I was offered.” Then to be polite, he asks, “what about you?”

“Last minute volunteering,” Jisung says, scraping something off the bark. “I was on another assignment, but Changbin hyung needed someone, so yeah – here I am.” He pauses, then says, “so you could say I picked this.”

Minho blinks in surprise. Now that he thinks about it, Jisung had also referred to Commander Chan as hyung yesterday too. “So you’re a big shot, huh?”

“No,” Jisung says and his voice sounds hollow. “I was just suited to the requirements. Anyway, mute the audio. This is going to be a long one.”

───────

Jisung only manages to cover a kilometre or so. His first chainsaw gets jammed, so he uses his spare one which doesn’t start. Then uses hand tools and hacks at it, but tires quickly. The forest isn’t that big, but the denseness of the foliage is obviously going to slow down this mission.

Minho leaves Felix to handle a mopey Jisung and leaves the office. The painkillers he’s taken during lunch have kicked in and he feels tired and gloomy. He sees Seungmin shuffling down the corridor and jogs to catch up with him. “Seungmin!” he calls.

Seungmin turns to look at him and Minho is startled by how awful he looks. His skin is chalky and the bags under his eyes look purple in the bright light of the corridor. His hair is a mess and his shoulders are slumped in defeat. “Hey, hyung.”

“Do you want to go to the cafeteria?” Minho asks, grabbing Seungmin’s hand. “I’ll get you something.”

Seungmin shrugs and lets Minho lead him to the cafeteria. Since everything is being rationed, there’s only protein biscuits and weak tea that is offered. “Go sit,” he says to Seungmin. “I’ll get the stuff.”

Seungmin picks a seat at the end of the cafeteria, near the vast windows. Minho walks towards him and nods at people he knows on his way. He notices that people are shooting glances at Seungmin. “Here,” he says, sitting opposite Seungmin. He passes the cup to him.

Seungmin wraps his hands around it, blows air into the cup. “This is a clusterfuck,” he sighs.

“What? The tea? Absolutely,” Minho says, grimacing after a sip. It tastes like water and sugar.

Seungmin smiles and takes a biscuit. “I wish. But it’s about Plot 87 and Jisung’s mission.” He dips the biscuit in his tea.

“Well, they’ve sent him on a one-man mission to do something impossible.” Minh frowns and bites into a biscuit. It tastes like cardboard. “Honestly, Seungmin, what on earth is this?”

Seungmin exhales deeply, eats his biscuit and sips his tea. Every moment is mechanical and stilted. “It’s damage control. That’s all I can say.” His face is blank.

Minho stares at his tea for a long moment. His distorted reflection ripples and then disappears as skin forms on it. “Why did Jisung take the mission?” he asks.

Seungmin frowns. “It’s confidential,” he admits, his eyes dart away from Minho. “But he – he volunteered and got accepted.”

Minho wonders if Jisung is one of those special ops personnel. Small stations like Auro – 22 have to request special ops; they don’t stay on base. Only normal crew members are stationed here. But if it is so confidential then it must be so. He eats another biscuit as he muses. “What’s Captain Han like?” he asks, deciding that if he can’t know anything about him, he can learn something about him as a person. “Does he always talk a lot?”

Seungmin leaves his biscuit still dipped in the tea. “He’s funny and sweet,” he says, lowering his head but still not seeing that his biscuit had long mixed with his tea. “But he’s very loyal. Responsible.” He swallows and looks at Minho, “he’s a great guy, hyung.” And then softly, “I miss him.”

Minho pats Seungmin’s trembling hand. “Don’t worry,” he says as cheerfully as he can. He’s worried about Seungmin now because he can see that the failure is affecting his health. “I’m responsible and duty minded, too.”

Seungmin smiles wanly and drinks his biscuit tea without batting an eye.

───────

“Are you an earthling?” Jisung asks, two days later. He has managed to clear a kilometre and a half of forest area and is going to collect samples today. Minho is glad. Sitting in silence while Jisung uses the chainsaw is boring.

“You must’ve read my file,” Minho says, tapping his fingers together. “So you know I am an earthling.”

Jisung huffs and stomps his boots. “This sap is terrible. Do you know how much cleaning agent I use in a day? Anyway, yeah I know but what if you’re like me? I moved to an exoplanet when I was five but never renounced my citizenship on earth.”

“I am an earthling through and through,” Minho drawls and grimaces when Jisung swats away a few insects. “And you know what they say; no one wants to live on earth.”

“Is that why you joined the space effort?” Jisung says, studying a leaf. “Do you think I should collect this?”

“I don’t know what your briefing said,” Minho says, studying Jisung. Wasn’t he supposed to be sure about these things? “And to answer your first question, of course. The factions moved every opportunity to space, so I had no option but to come to space.”

“Same, but my entire family was involved in the space effort,” Jisung explains, deciding to discard the leaf. “So I had no other opportunity.”

Minho watches him trip over a rock and nearly fall on his face. He bites back a huff of laughter. “Did they force you to join?”

Jisung is silent as he steadies himself. “I had no option,” he says again then shakes his head. “Alright so instead of leaves, I think I can take cuttings of trees and plants.”

Minho hums, kicking his feet up on his desk. His body is adjusting to the helmet, so he doesn’t have to worry about constant headaches. But what he can’t get used to is the way Jisung behaves. It is  as if he is loitering without any idea about what is happening. Like he doesn’t realise that this mission is stupid and bound to fail. It’s been four days and Jisung’s progress is negligible.

“Which mission is your favourite?” Minho asks, lacing his fingers together and resting them on his chest.

Over the snipping noise of his shears, Jisung says, “My first mission as a Firstie, definitely. I went to a space academy right, so they pumped us with all these thrilling stories about new frontiers and adventure and all that right. I had to go to a new planet and chart it out. It was exactly like that.”

Ugh. Firsties. “I dump firstie babysitting duties on my juniors,” Minho says. “I have never seen such foolish behaviour from any group of people.”

Jisung laughs but it is a soft, bitter sound. “I think that’s the point. The foolishness, the utter recklessness is what helps us chart out new exoplanets. People walk into planets on the backs on Firsties,” he says.

Minho’s ears burn. “I didn’t mean–” he stammers, “I mean… it’s just they’re a headache precisely because, you know–”

“It’s alright,” Jisung says, “it took me a long time to realise that.” He has stopped clipping at a shrub. It is silent in the forest except for the croaking calls of unknown birds. The silence has a weight of its own.

Then why are you doing this? Minho wants to ask, but it’s not his place. “I don’t have a favourite,” he says after the silence stretches on for too long. “Every time there’s no death or injury in a team that I am responsible for, I call that a win. Gotta be the best last hope, you know.”

“Last hope,” Jisung murmurs, “it’s a heavy burden when so many people’s lives depend on you.”

Minho drops his feet and sits up straight. “It is…” he speaks quietly though he doesn’t know why. “But I am good at my job.”

“I hope I am too,” Jisung says then sighs, “okay, I really need to stop distracting us. Captain, please mute the audio so that I don’t waste time in talking.”

───────

Another two chainsaw days pass and Jisung gets so exhausted at the end of his day that he falls quiet as he goes back to X12. Chan sends a circular on the 13 th , Earth Measure, and it is as confusing as it is vague.

“My dear crew members,” the missive says, “tough times are upon us.” Then he talks about all the things that are going wrong including the disastrous failure of Plot 87. “It is in times like these that we are able to show our strength and our nerve. Every team is working at full capacity and for more hours than they have to. Sleepless as people are, they are pouring their energy into creating a common dream. Help each other, stand beside each other.”

All well and good. Then the circular goes into exhaustive detail about what everyone is doing. Even Minho and Felix get a mention. But when it comes to Jisung’s mission, it gets weird. “Capt. Han Jisung has bravely volunteered to chart the unknown territory north of X12. He will be collecting samples that can quite possibly save Auro – 22. It is a mission filled with danger and unforeseen threats, but progress has been rapid and we look forward to the day when Capt. Han completes the mission. Strike Gold, Capt. Han.”

He puts it away for the time being because he has to start his shift. Felix looks at him with wide, beseeching eyes when he enters the office at the end of Minho’s shift. “Hyung,” he says, wringing his hands, “Seungmin’s really ill and he’s not sleeping at night. So if I pull a night shift tonight and then take your morning shift then will you change the slots with me? I know that juniors are supposed to do the night shifts–”

“Shut up and go,” Minho says and then scrambles to hug him when Felix looks stricken, “no – no! I meant go home right now. I’ll do the night shift today so you can be with your boyfriend.”

“But I just sprang this on you now and you’re not well rested!” Felix protests, his voice muffled against Minho’s chest.

Minho lets him out of the hug. “And you’re stressed. I’ll drink energy drinks or something. The nights are not dangerous and Seungmin needs you.”

“It’s just – it’s Jisung’s birthday tomorrow and Seungmin’s taking it really hard,” Felix murmurs, rubbing his neck. “He’s really distressed by this whole thing.”

Minho bites his lip. Jisung hadn’t mentioned his birthday at all. There’s no reason for him to do so of course, but there’s a twinge in his chest when he thinks of Jisung being alone on his birthday, away from everyone. “I hope he gets well soon,” Minho says and the hooks in his skin – the ones that he hadn’t felt in some time tug sharply. “I’ll take it from here.”

Felix gives him a watery smile. “I’ll get food for you and then leave, hyung.” He pauses then hugs Minho. “Thank you.”

So Minho settles for the night with his dinner in hand. He doesn’t have to wear his helmet anymore which is a definite plus and Jisung is napping so he has some time to himself. His mind turns back to the circular. He hasn’t said anything to Jisung and really, what could he say? The language is weird? It is too vague and self-congratulatory even though I watch you use only a chainsaw the whole day? That you’ve not encountered a single threat? That Changbin is feeding false information to everyone including Chan?

He frowns when he thinks of what Jisung said . I am suited to the requirements . Seungmin and Changbin have both repeated the same thing. What were those requirements? Minho flips through Jisung’s file, reading everything carefully but nothing stands out.

Maybe he’s actually special ops, Minho thinks. This amount of weirdness and obfuscation could be expected only when the mission is extremely confidential.  Otherwise it is a sign of bad leadership. Minho is torn between the two, his stomach roiling. He sighs and eats his sodden dinner.

Jisung wakes up sometime around eight, stumbles to his food pack and starts scarfing food from the first packet that he comes across. Minho watches in amusement and outright laughs when Jisung’s cheeks puff out with the amount of food he shovels into his mouth.

Jisung jumps and whirls to face the camera. His eyes are wide and his cheeks are still bulging. He startles again before bolting away from the camera’s range. Minho’s still giggling when Jisung comes back, scowling. “What’re you doing here?” he demands.

“Making sure that your spider cow nightmares don’t ruin your sleep,” Minho grins.

Jisung rolls his eyes. “Felix did a better job of that, Captain,” he says, but he’s smiling. He brushes his floppy, sleep mussed hair away from his face and picks up his food again. “But really, shouldn’t you be resting?”

Minho is unsure whether he should tell Jisung the truth or not. He doesn’t know if he’s supposed to know about Seungmin and Jisung’s fight. He drums his fingers on the table and then says, “Felix wanted to spend time with Seungmin. That’s all he said.” 

Jisung furrows his brow in disbelief but he says, “that makes sense.” He takes a bite of food and chews. His pod is a worn blue in colour and it is one of those igloo models – a model that isn’t popular anymore. He is dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants and without the buffer of his uniform, he looks vulnerable.

Minho realises that he hasn’t seen Jisung’s face for days because of the weird field of vision that the helmet provides. Jisung’s face is pinched and there is a careworn weight around his mouth and eyes. Minho is inexplicably sad and for some reason, frightened.

“He also told me that it’s your birthday tomorrow,” Minho says to distract himself from the squeezing weight around his heart. It is perhaps the intimacy of seeing Jisung in his home clothes during off duty hours that’s bothering him.

Jisung’s smile is pleased but embarrassed. He fiddles with his fork, eyes darting away. “Ah, it’s not a big deal,” he lifts a shoulder in a half shrug, “just another day.”

“Yeah but you graced the galaxies with your presence on this day, Earth Measure,” Minho says in his best formal voice. “What do you usually do?”

Jisung’s smile flickers for a second before he smiles widely again. But  Minho can tell that it is fake because it doesn’t reach his eyes and looks more like a frozen grimace. “Well I keep shifting from planet to planet, so I never stick around long enough for my birthday and even if I do, I don’t really mention it.” He licks his lips and hesitates. “I don’t like celebrating my birthday,” he admits, voice quiet.

“Oh?” Minho doesn’t say anything more. Jisung is working his mouth and twisting the fork between his fingers.

“I haven’t after my parents – after I was,” he pauses and continues in a distant voice, “orphaned and I told you that I went to a space academy right? They really didn’t encourage all this. We had to compete with actual robots, you know and it’s not like I have a lot of friends,” he shrugs again, but his shoulders remain raised. He laughs and tucks his knees to his chest. “I’ve ruined the mood, haven’t I?”

Minho has a peculiar feeling, as if the ground beneath his feet is wavering. As if he is stranded in a sand storm, gaining and losing ground as the wind blows grains away from him or towards him. “Don’t worry,” he smiles, “it's impossible to ruin the mood when one of us is stuck in spider-cow land and the other hovers over you all day, every day.”

Jisung huffs out a laugh but he is still playing with his fingers and his shoulders are still hunched. “Would we have been friends if I was not here?” he blurts, his eyes widening the moment he says it. “Please pretend that I didn’t say anything,” he mumbles and falls to his side.

Curled into a ball like this, Jisung is tiny . Though the muscles on his forearms ripple and Minho can see a knotted scar on his shin when his sweat pants ride up, he’s just small and adorable and awkward. Minho’s heart creeps to his throat as his ears burn. “Considering that – we’re friends even in this situation…” he says, lowering his voice, “I – I think,” Jisung peeks at him with hopeful eyes, “that we would’ve been friends.”

Jisung’s eyes are wet, but it could be the light glinting off his eyes. “Then can I call you hyung?” His voice is so low that if there was any other noise, it would’ve drowned out his words.

“Of course, Jisung,” Minho says.

Jisung stretches out his limbs and stares at the ceiling. “I think I’ll sleep now.”

“Alright. In that case, happy birthday in advance.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

The hitch in Jisung’s breath echoes in the room.

───────

Minho usually sends his reports to Changbin through email and he only has meetings with him when it is absolutely necessary. This isn’t a necessity, but the itch at the back of his mind doesn’t settle. Jisung doesn’t seem to remember that the mission is a chance at glory, and the things he says, and the way he is – they’re all incongruent with the image of a fame hungry, swashbuckling firstie.

Minho reasons that it is because of three reasons: he’s underqualified, or the mission is shoddily planned, or he’s special ops with a secret mission. None of the three satisfy him, so three days later, he seeks Changbin out after breakfast.

“Hello,” he says, after he finds Changbin inside the big greenhouse. They were supposed to have a plant nursery here, but the funding for this project was suspended. So it remains empty and people use it as a café type space.

There are two long tables here and Changbin has one to himself. Minho takes a seat that’s opposite to him and offers him a smile. Changbin has his slim laptop open in front of him, but he isn’t looking at it. His eyes are far away and he’s frowning.

“Changbin,” he says, “hello?”

Changbin startles and rears back when he sees Minho. He laughs sheepishly, “sorry, I didn’t see you, hyung.” He rubs his face with his hand. “I’m just tired and I miss coffee.”

“I know,” Minho says because the haggard set of Changbin’s face gives away his sheer exhaustion. Also the fact that they haven’t had coffee in months. “I want to speak to you freely.” He looks around and finds that there aren’t many people left.

Changbin leans away and crosses his arms. “You know you can always do that,” he says, eyes guarded, “but as always confidentiality and all still apply.”

“I just want your opinion,” Minho replies, placing his arms on the table. His skin tingles in anticipation, but he doesn’t want to give anything away.

Changbin tilts his head and says, “go ahead, hyung.”

“Do you think Jisung’s mission is going to successful?” Minho watches Changbin, notices his mouth tighten. “Is this mission even worth it?”

Changbin sits in silence. Sunlight streams in from the glass and floods every corner of the room. Changbin’s fingers are digging into his arms. “Jisung will make sure that the mission is successful.” His face is smooth as granite and his lips barely move as he speaks. “And this mission is our last chance.”

“But even if he gets the soil samples–”

Changbin shakes his head and drops his arms. “Hyung,” he says, voice wavering, “things are much worse than they seem. This mission has to be successful.”

Minho’s breath is stuck in his chest. The hooks sink in deeper and then into his blood stream, turn it to ice. “What are you saying?”

Changbin’s eyes are huge, pained. His jaw is clenched tight and a muscle twitches in his cheek. “Jisung is our last hope and this mission… will be successful. That’s all I can say.” He stands up and gives Minho an unreadable look. “Also start redacting the transcripts, hyung. I think the time has come.”

Minho just nods, tongue frozen.

───────

“Hyung, have you ever struck gold?” Jisung asks, later that night. He’s tucked into his sleeping bag and the camera hovers above his face.

Minho looks up from the transcripts he is redacting. He presses the cursor to the part where Jisung is talking about his time at the academy and obscures it. “Auro – 22 hasn’t struck gold yet, Jisungie,” he says.

“No, not Auro – 22.  I mean, striking gold is supposed to be this big accomplishment right? A purpose that leads to success. Like that.”

Minho redacts another line. At this point only one paragraph in the whole page is not marked with black ink. “This is the private line right?”

Jisung nods and folds his arms behind his head. “I switch the moment I get back.”

“Good because it is really weird redacting all our sweet moments,” he snorts. “And to answer your question, I haven’t – I don’t think so. My job requires me to be always alert,” Minho leans back in his chair, “and making sure that people are safe is not a one-time accomplishment.”

Jisung tilts his head back and Minho can see the sharp angle of his jaw. Minho turns to the document. “In your personal life?” Jisung asks. “have you struck gold there?”

Minho hums, thinking. “No,” he says slowly, “now that I think about it, striking gold is a lifelong process when it comes to us – to individuals. Yeah, space missions have a concrete measurement for success, but how can one measure apply to humans? I think… it keeps evolving.”

Jisung clears his throat. “But what if – what if someone has one concrete goal?”

“Good for them, I suppose. But what will they do after that? It seems like an end, doesn’t it?”

Jisung looks at the camera head on, his lips caught between his teeth. “Hyung, thank you so much for talking to me. I know that you don’t have to – but you still do and it just… means a lot to me,” he says in a rushed whisper.

A soft warmth suffuses his chest. Jisung tucked in his sleeping bag and being wide-eyed and earnest with messy hair makes his stomach flutter. “I expect payment when you come back,” Minho teases though his cheeks are flushing, “treat me to shitty tea in the greenhouse café.”

Jisung’s turns his head to the side, facing away from the camera. “Let’s see,” he says.

There’s a twinge of disappointment, but they’re lost under the relentless tugging of the hooks. It’s alright if he doesn’t like you ,” Minho tells himself, stop moping . “Have you struck gold?”

Jisung’s gaze drifts back to the camera. The difference in his expression is baffling. His brows are pinched and even through the camera, Minho can tell that he is taking slow, steady breaths as if he is bracing himself. “I hope to one day,” he says, “and it is one concrete goal for me…” he sighs, “to reduce the burdens that my loved ones face.”

The hooks prick all the same. Something itches at the back of his mind but it flies away the moment he reaches towards it. “That’s a noble goal.”

“I don’t know about that. But that is my goal.” Jisung says and then falls quiet. 

───────

Whispers swirl in every corner of the cafeteria and squall at everyone’s face with awful news. We’re running out of food.

“The food they’re serving is typical last reserves stuff,” a whippet thin man says. “This happened – when was it? – oh twenty years back. I was a Lieutenant then and the mission was going terribly. Supplies stopped and they scraped the back of the shelves.”

A woman beside him nods. “Similar stuff. Biscuits, porridge, rice.” Her mouth twists in a mocking smile, “we pulled through, but the way this mission is going… let’s just say we’re going to be,” she drops her voice, “ forgotten .”

“Nonsense!” one of the younger technicians says, “no one gets forgotten. They’ll send supplies.”

The whippet thin man snorts, “there are sixteen billion humans right now.” His face looks like it is carved in wood, the creases set in stone. “And there eight factions at each other’s throats to make maximum profit. Do you think they’re going to bother about thirty people who failed?”

The technician’s lips tremble. Minho’s fingers are clenched so tight that they ache. “Captain Han is–”

“Unless he does something heroic or pulls a miracle that our faction will be able to make money off of, we’re doomed,” the woman says. Her face is pleasant but her eyes are flat. Her smile softens, but there’s no place for hope in it. “I’ve given my life to the space effort. It has no place for failures like us.”

“It is easy to be forgotten in space,” the man says, “unless of course, you cannot be forgotten.”

Minho looks at the table at the centre of the cafeteria. Chan is eating quietly and his face is placid with no emotions flickering over it. The others who are sitting with him keep darting glances from him to the room at large. Changbin isn’t here.

The day crawls and Minho’s sleep is restless, filled with strange, disconcerting dreams. He dreams of Jisung walking and walking in the forest with no end in sight, dazed and exhausted. “ It is a burden ,” he keeps saying and then the dream shifts to Minho’s home on earth. “ Paulo, the last blue whale has died in captivity ,” a 21 st Century news reader announces, “ there are no more whales left on earth .”

His dreams keep blurring and bleeding into each other. Glasslike floors that melt and still hold as people from his crew march. Jisung’s chainsaw and corn cobs. Minho driving a car. Then he opens his eyes with great effort. His heart is pounding. He turns onto his back and inhales and exhales. Paulo, the last blue whale , he thinks. What the fuck was that?

When Minho enters his office later that night, Felix is laughing about something. He smiles and unpacks, half listening to Felix as he talks to Jisung. Felix bids Jisung good night and then waves at Minho.

“Hey hyung,” he says. He points at the monitor. “Jisung has moved to a new part of the forest,” he adds. “It’s a sap filled ocean as Jisung calls it.”

Minho nods and takes a few hydration capsules. “Anything else?”

“Nah. He’s writing his notes right now.”

Minho flops into the chair. Jisung is not in the frame of the camera and Minho has to squash a ridiculous flare of disappointment. “How’s Seungmin?”

Felix touches the pulse point on his neck. “I don’t know,” he admits, face falling. “He doesn’t talk much anymore and Changbin hyung keeps hovering. So Seungmin just disappears for hours.” He tips his head back and groans. “I am so lost, hyung.”

Minho bites his lip, unsure of what to say. He can’t say that everything will be fine because that is a lie. Nothing is fine. The hooks have sunk in deep enough to scrape at his ribs. As much as tries not to think about it, he has a sinking feeling that his stomach will soon make it impossible to forget. “How can I help?” he asks.

Felix opens his mouth then closes it. “Will you talk to him?” he asks, fiddling with his fingers. “Just – just try to talk to him. Please.”

“Alright,” Minho says even though it seems like a futile endeavour. He will still try for Felix.

───────

Jisung wanders into the range of the camera a few minutes after Felix leaves. He beams when he sees Minho. “Hi!”

“Hello,” Minho says, unable to stop his fond smile. A tendril of affection twines itself around the hooks, warms his blood a little. “I heard you had a productive day today.”

Jisung’s smile fades a little. He leans to his side and then emerges again with a food pack. “Yeah, well. About time, I guess.”

Minho frowns at the sudden change in Jisung’s mood. “It’s a good thing, you know,” he watches Jisung’s face, trying to understand but Jisung’s head is bent stubbornly over his food. “People are spreading all sorts of rumours about being forgotten and left to die.”

Jisung flinches, looks up at him with fearful eyes. “Really?” he rasps, “what are they saying?”

Minho leans forward though it doesn’t do anything but makes his eyes hurt. Jisung’s hands are tight around the food pack. “That we’re running out of food.” Jisung glances down at his food pack. “That – what you’re doing… your mission won’t help.”

Jisung is silent but his breath comes out in harsh little bursts. “It will help,” he says and his voice is brittle, like it is cracking with everything that he is holding back. “That’s the – that’s the point of this fucking mission,” he spits and thrusts his pack away. “I don’t expect anything – anything – and they’re saying that…”

“Jisung!” Minho says, alarmed and a little annoyed, “we’re running out of food – it’s porridge for lunch, dinner and breakfast – and you’re nowhere near the Riv–”

Jisung’s face contorts, “I am where I am supposed to be! I just have to find them – forget it!” he snaps and he’s crying, no sobbing, tears and snot streaming down his face. “I thought you would understand.”

Minho watches helplessly as Jisung’s shoulders shake. He places a finger where Jisung’s shoulder is visible on the camera. “It’s terrifying, Jisung.”

“I know,” Jisung hiccups and he wipes his face with the back of his hand. “But I am almost there, hyung. I am almost there.”

Minho swallows, his own eyes burning. Jisung looks defeated and he’s slumped over himself. A lone man in the middle of nowhere, trying to save us all. “I am sorry, Jisungie.”

Jisung’s eyes are still watering when he holds Minho’s gaze. “No, hyung. I’m sorry,” he says and his lips wobble. He takes a shaky breath. “It’s almost over,” he says and tries to smile. “Your last hope will come through.”

Minho’s fingers twitch with the urge to reach out and gather him into his arms. He clamps his hands around the arms of his chair. “Strike gold, Han Jisung,” he murmurs, unable to find anything else to say.

“I will,” Jisung whispers back.

───────

The lump in his throat refuses to dissolve even after Jisung falls asleep. His stomach is a murky, feculent roil. He starts redacting the documents again, but the statements flicker before his eyes in a meaningless parade. Details affirmed – gallons of sap from these trees - it’s a heavy burden when so many people’s lives depend on you – tree in danger of toppling, nine o’clock! – presence and noise at night, nothing on the sensors…

Jisung makes a groaning sound and then there’s a shuffling noise. He usually sleeps out of the range of the camera, but Minho wishes there was some way to check up on him without waking him up. The sensors and camera are placid. Minho checks the map. Jisung has not even covered a quarter of the forest area.

A burst of fear roars through his body and it is so sudden that Minho has to clench his fists tight so that he doesn’t slip onto the floor. It leaves him hollow and empty, brands a searing coldness at the back of his neck. His mother had once told him about how during his great grandfather’s time, all human beings lived on earth. All of them. Space was a vast, unending wonder and all people could do back then was tilt their heads back and marvel at it.

Space is still a vast, unending wonder, Minho thinks, except when you look at it head on, you see the horrors it hid from earthlings. Horrors that were once just a twinkle in man’s eye and in the sky. He wonders if his great grandfather ever foresaw the space effort becoming the way it is now.

I hear noises from the forest – I have never seen a spider during day time, think they might be nocturnal or just shy… will report observations – collected a lot of sap – the mist from the river is peculiar… clothes have residue …

Minho puts away the transcript and spends the rest of the night keeping an eye on the forest. By the time he ends his shift, he has a headache and is nauseous. He smiles wanly when Felix tells him that Seungmin will meet him at the greenhouse café.

Slivers of two moons are still visible in the morning sky. The station is quiet and the few people who are around are either staring into the distance and nodding over their laptops. A knot of people are smoking as they lean against the massive walls of the station. There’s a tight tension in the air. 

There’s a soft lilt of music when he enters the greenhouse café and two people are whirling in the space beyond two tables.

Minho watches them with a smile, amused by the way one of them keeps yelping when their partner steps on their feet. Seungmin taps his shoulder and Minho is startled by the change in his appearance. He still looks exhausted but his eyes are burning and he is twitching with coiled energy. “Hey, hyung. Let’s get a seat,” he says and marches to a seat at the extreme end of the café.

The music changes to a snappy, staccato tune and for a moment it jars Minho with how incongruous its beats are with the terrified, tripping pulse of his heart. Seungmin’s mein is one of desperate anger, the most dangerous kind. Minho sits in front of him, a dark void yawning in his stomach.

“Do you understand?” Seungmin demands before Minho can even think of words to say. “Do you understand what is happening?” His gaze is calculating and he is leaning forward with rapt interest.

Minho feels like a specimen under study. “Felix asked me to–”

“Talk to me, yes,” Seungmin flicks his hand in a dismissive gesture, “that’s why I am asking if you understand what this mission is about.”

Minho licks his lips, sand shifting under his feet again and leaving him unmoored. “Bad leadership?” The music cuts off and he can hear the murmur of the dancers’ muted conversation. “This mission seems like a fool’s errand, Seungmin.”

Seungmin deflates and his mouth goes slack with pain. “It is,” he mutters over the creak of the greenhouse café’s door. “Do you think Jisung is in danger?”

Minho presses his nails into palms in a gentle rhythm. The feeling of it is soothing, predictable. “I don’t know,” he admits, “but Jisung isn’t making much progress and he keeps saying that he hears the spiders at night–” The door creaks again.

“Oh, look who is here,” Seungmin says then, “it’s the spiders, hyung. Keep that in mind and tell Felix when you understand.” He gets up and brushes past Changbin without acknowledging him.

Changbin ignores him and walks to Minho with a stony expression on his face. “Sorry for interrupting your conversation,” he says, “I worry about him.” His voice has no intonation and he is so still that he looks like a statue.

Minho turns on his seat and sits with his legs on either side of the bench. “I do too. Are you okay?”

Changbin ignores the question, perhaps because the answer is broadcasted on his face, Minho thinks. He is gaunt and his skin has a sickly, pale undertone to it. “What were you talking about?” Changbin asks instead. It sounds like an order.

Minho fumbles for an answer. “We were talking about – dreams or nightmares because of all that’s happening, you know. I… um dreamed about Paulo – you know the last whale? That was so strange and out of place.”

Changbin’s eyes become sad and he sighs. “The whale that was famous for its death,” he says. He studies Minho with a wooden, faraway gaze. “Have you ever thought about how I sign the orders that lead people to danger and you’re the one who saves them from it?”

“We all have our burdens,” Minho says, swinging his left leg over the bench and standing up, “we have to do our duty.”

Changbin’s face shutters even more. “Sometimes our duty is our undoing,” he says and then turns and walks away.

───────

The thing about panic is that it grips you and wipes away every ounce of reason that you’ve ever had. It wipes every groove in your brain smooth, forces the frontal lobe to the side, snuffs every neuronal action taking place there.

Someone fights with a food server because they refuse to increase their portion size. This incident spreads like wildfire and by mid-morning two people’s food stashes are robbed.

“I’m seal kitchen from now onwards and only the servers will have the password, ” Chan thunders at noon, “and your meals will be delivered to your rooms. This will go on until you get into your heads that we have enough supplies.”

“For how many days?” a man roars from the front, “when was the last time that we got a delivery?”

Chan glowers at them and Minho realises that this is the first time that he’s seen Chan look furious. “The supplies are delayed, but,” he raises his voice when people start chattering, “we have enough supplies.”

“Why is there no communication from our faction? They should hear about this – all we’ve been eating is–”

Chan cuts her off. “We have to ration until Captain Han completes the mission and we can restart the project” he says, “Sergeant Changbin tells me that his progress is excellent. This is just a rough time and we have to be reasonable.” His face softens then and he looks tired and old. “Look, panicking isn’t going to help us.”

“The faction?” the young technician asks, “what did they say sir?”

“They said they’re discussing things. But when Captain Han completes the mission we won’t need their help.” He takes a sweeping look around the cafeteria. “We’re in this together. We need to help each other. That’s all I’ll say. Strike gold, Auro – 22.”

The response is muted and the silence, sullen.

An hour after the meeting, people hoard hydration capsules, nutrition pills, cleaning agents and medical kits. Chan orders everyone to return their stocks, but they only recover half of it. He threatens to have everyone’s rooms searched, but the reaction is so strong that he backtracks, fearing a mutiny. All doors are password protected now and stand closed and immovable. The process for signing out resources takes longer and Minho starts rationing his meagre supplies.

“I spoke to Seungmin,” Minho tells Felix later that night. He frowns, “he told me to tell you if I finally understood. But I know what is wrong,” he points at the map, “this!”

Felix looks from the map to him. “Jisung is definitely making progress,” Felix tells him as he packs his bag. “The trees and vegetation are really thick now so the amount of sap that’s draining out is huge. Plus, Jisung’s reports about the spiders have increased.”

The itch in the back of Minho’s mind flares. It’s the spiders . Just because they’re shy doesn’t mean they aren’t dangerous.

Jisung’s voice crackles from the speakers. “Hey, hyung.”

Minho looks at Felix and Felix shakes his head. “We’ll talk later,” he mouths and leaves.

“Hi,” Minho smiles at Jisung, “how was your day?”

Jisung isn’t smiling. “The spiders are definitely close,” he says.

Panic blooms in Minho’s chest. “They’re shy,” he says, but his words are weak. “I’ll take care of you,” he adds, desperate to convince the both of them.

Jisung’s shoulders droop. “Yeah. I know.”

Jisung doesn’t talk that night and instead goes to sleep early. Minho turns the conversation with Seungmin round and round in his head, but there’s something that is escaping him, something that's missing. He doesn’t understand why the spiders are an issue. Yes, they’re dangerous, but Jisung is armed and trained. Even if they’re coming closer – why? – Jisung can easily scare them away with a flare.

Exhausted and unable to parse meaning from the conversation, Minho starts redacting the transcripts. Two hours later, the sensors start beeping. Minho notices hulking shapes outside X12 and his hooks puncture his lungs, knocking his breath out. His fingers move of their own accord and press an alarm to wake Jisung up. “Jisung,” he finds himself saying, “three unknown figures at six o’clock. I think it’s the spiders.”

Jisung jerks awake and stumbles out of his sleeping bag. “What?” he slurs even as he moves to his backpack.

“Spiders, six o’clock.” Panic drenches him in a slow, vicious flow. The dark shapes are moving closer, their long legs bending sharply into scythe like – claws? feet? – something. He can see the mass of their eyes from here, a bunch of spherical shapes piled around their heads. “Jisung, throw a flare towards the forest,” he barks, “lead them away from you.”

Jisung drops the backpack and instead picks up his uniform. “I don’t have flares,” he says, “I’m going to go and… engage with them.”

“What! No! Throw a flare, don’t leave the observation point – Jisung!” But Jisung ignores him and changes into his uniform quickly. He takes a chainsaw and opens the pod.

Shock freezes Minho’s tongue. No one has ever disobeyed him when he is trying to save their lives. “Captain Han, please follow my instructions. Stay in the pod.”

Jisung hesitates but then shakes his head. “I have to go, they’ll cause damage to the samples I have stored in the ground floor. It’s sap and –”

Minho leaps to his feet and flicks on the search beam that is attached to the tower. It flares to life and darts straight to the forest. The spiders pause and Minho watches without breathing as they seem to consult each other. His breath is punched out of his chest when they start skittering towards the forest.

The cameras show barren land again, land that is interrupted only by a few shrubs. “They’re gone,” he says.

Jisung nods and leans his head against the door. The chainsaw hangs loosely from his fingers.

“Captain Han,” Minho says, voice straining with the force of his rage, “This is a breach of rules. You’re supposed to follow the orders of Mission Control when we declare an emergency.”

Jisung straightens his shoulders and turns to face the camera. “The mission comes first,” he says and his pupils are blown wide. He wipes at the sweat that’s gleaming on his brows. “I have to do what it takes.”

Unless he does something heroic or miraculous. He has barely made any progress. I just have to find them. It’s the spiders. I am close. He fits all the requirements. From the occluded haze in his mind, a sickly light emerges. Jisung was going to engage with the spiders. Jisung is going to engage with the spiders again.

“Jisung…” he says as understanding dawns on him and suffuses every cell with incomprehensible terror. The hooks have him pierced through his lungs and out of his back. “Jisung,” he whispers again, “why?”

Jisung says, “I have to strike gold, remember?” He starts walking, “I am going to go to sleep now. I need to gather energy for tomorrow morning.”

Then he disables the floating camera and vanishes from sight.

───────

“Let me tell you a story,” Seungmin says, folding his arms and dipping his head, “a young, dashing officer goes to the middle of nowhere in a last ditch effort to save the space station. He cuts down trees, fights off creeping vines and torrents of sap.” He pauses and breathes in again, “but he doesn’t know that the spiders are drawn to the sap.”

Minho groans and buries his head in his hands. “But he knew that, didn’t he?”

Seungmin goes on, “the spiders are getting more active, but our Captain doesn’t understand why. Then a day comes when the sap covering the forest ground is so much that it draws out the notoriously shy spiders.” He pauses again and his voice trembles when he says, “and he fights them just to get to the other side. Fights to save his station.”

“It is a brilliant story,” Felix murmurs, “imagine the publicity. Any faction would love to have a hero like him.”

“Did you know?” Minho demands, raising his head, “did you know from the beginning?”

“No!” Seungmin says, mouth thinning in annoyance. He leans back in his chair, “I thought he was taking this assignment just to take the heat off me,” he groans and waves his hand at the cameras, “but then nothing made sense. Like I know the person who speculated that the soil on the bank of the River is nutrient rich. It was just speculation and she passed away some time back. It was all very suspicious.”

Felix squeezes Seungmin’s shoulder. “So we started digging. Jisung was a part of the Firsties who came here,” he says, “and he was there at X12 – well it didn’t exist before, but they did try to go into the forest. And Jisung told Seungmin about how he’d seen young spiders rush to the sap when they felled a tree.”

“There’s no record of it,” Seungmin adds, leaning against Felix’s side, “and the spiders got so spooked that they did attack a few people before retreating deep into the forest. Then the project got stopped and it’s been in limbo ever since.”

“They chalked up the attack to the intrusive means that the Firsties used, but Jisung always believed otherwise,” he shrugs, “and the fact that the mission was decided in the space of hours and the way Changbin is being so secretive, we did eventually figure it out.”

The quiet beeping of machines is the only noise in the control room. Jisung is still sleeping and his stats roll in a cheerful, yellow ribbon. Minho shifts and his chair creaks. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know until Changbin let it slip that you’re suspicious,” Seungmin’s eyes are downcast, “I thought I was the only one.”

Felix leans down and kisses Seungmin’s head. “No one would believe this anyway. We have insider information that’s why we were suspicious in the first place.”

Minho rests his elbows on his knees and rests his chin on the crevice of his enjoined fists. “What now?”

Seungmin stands up and shares a glance with Felix. Felix steps forward, grim and determined. “The only way is to rewrite the story.”

───────

It is unsettling how still Changbin is. His face is ashen and his eyes are sunken, but other than that, his face is smooth and devoid of any expression. He looks half dead , Minho thinks, uneasiness creeping with slimy fingers down his spine.

“I cannot let you do that,” Changbin says quietly, his voice barely above the frequency of audible speech, “Jisung went on this mission to save people. I can’t send you to get hurt.”

“But you managed to send Jisung,” Seungmin says, venom dripping from every word. “He calls you his brother, you know,” he spits.

Changbin flinches. “I know,” he says, “but Chan is our brother too and Jisung volunteered so that Chan doesn’t have to watch his crew die and then die himself.”

Maybe Minho is sheltered because none of the people he has been responsible for have ever refused his help, have chosen injury and death over life. He has never had to make the decision of forcing someone to live or to letting them die. And none of them have ever been his friends. The drowning helplessness of it makes bile burn in the back of his throat.

Seungmin puts his hands on the table and leans forward. “The mix of cleaning agents and hydration capsules can reduce the potency of the sap,” he says. “We can save him, Changbin. He won’t survive there on his own even if he only gets injured – it’s a four-hour journey for fucks sake.”

“It’s his decision–”

“He shouldn’t have to make this decision,” Minho cuts in. He thinks of how small and lonely Jisung looked that day in the forest. “If there’s another way then shouldn’t he know about it? Should he still suffer?”

Changbin stands up and rubs his eyes. “I never expected that this would happen,” he says, “for the longest time, it was just the three of us.” He swallows and tugs at his hair. “I don’t know what is happening, but if my brother can be saved then…” he swallows, “strike gold, folks.”

───────

“I knew no one would think of looking in the space ships,” Seungmin says, holding up boxes of cleaning agents and hydration capsules. “I felt bad but,” he shrugs, “we couldn’t think of any other way.”

Minho nods in understanding and passes a sprayer to him. They work in silence, light of the dawn barely filtering into the hangar. The bright artificial lights leach all colour from Seungmin’s face and makes his skin seem papery and fragile. Minho veins are a stark blue against his skin and his fingers tremble as he follows Seungmin’s instructions.

“Felix will send us coordinates and information,” Seungmin says, shouldering the sprayer. “Jisung will run into spiders today – they came near X12 which shows that they’re… desperate, I suppose. So be ready for an attack.”

Minho’s “got it,” comes out as a dry click. He follows Seungmin to the changing room and his legs are straining as if he is wading through mud. His heart is a thundering echo in his ears and his mind slowly rolls down the shutters on rational thought and seeks shelter behind it. His eyes are curiously sharp, however, and he dresses in his travel uniform in the requisite one and a half minutes.

Seungmin checks the settings in the ship’s controller. “This is a piece of shit,” he informs Minho, frowning as he jabs a button, “the faction didn’t give us anything decent.”

“Maybe you can tell me what’s wrong with the ship later,” Minho suggests, letting the seatbelts grab him. “I can’t be afraid of crashing and the spider cows at the same time.”

“Spider cows?” Seungmin asks, raising a brow.

“Just something Jisung said once,” Minho replies, putting on his helmet.

Seungmin hums and presses a button. The space ship whines before exhaling. “If you look at it, it’s more like a spider calf.”

Minho grips his thighs when everything starts shuddering. “Let’s just stop talking,” he says over the rumbling noise, “let’s visualise flowers or something.”

Seungmin snickers as he pulls a lever. Minho closes his eyes and keeps them shut till the space ship stabilises. Even though he works in a space station, he hates flying. He breathes out slowly and opens his eyes.

“So,” Seungmin says, eyes fixed straight ahead, “I don’t want to ruin the mood anymore, but you do realise that–” he hesitates and flicks on the holographic map. “He’ll probably be…injured.”

There’s a difference between knowing and acknowledging. He doesn’t want to bring the idea to the forefront of his mind. Minho rubs his knees and shakes his head. “Let’s hope for the best. I – don’t want to think about that.” An image flashes through his mind then and the hooks tug at him. He shivers. “Let’s just hope.”

Seungmin nods and falls silent. The rest of the journey is a blur except for the periodic updates from Felix and the instructions that Seungmin gives him. Aim for the eyes. Get Jisung and run. Don’t engage. Run faster than you ever have.

Time melts around him and over him. With every tick of the clock, another tendril of dread finds its way into his body. By the three-hour mark, it’s a sizable chunk and it throbs along with the beat of his heart. He is tired and his eyes heavy, but sleep is long forgotten. It is the prolonged exposure to adrenaline that’s making him like this and he tries to calm himself by doing a simple breathing exercise. Seungmin keeps scrolling through the holographic map and the amorphous static over the River stares back at them.

Then Felix’s voice rings out. “He’s going to the forest.”

When Minho was seven, he was old enough to know that some of his friends had things that he didn’t, but he was too young to understand that the world is unfair. So he had demanded an evening bath – a bath and not the five-minute douse under a cleansing spray – and his parents had said, “no.”  Minho had raged and raged and his parents had stood there and looked like they were drowning. Drowning and like someone had tied a weight to their feet, so all they could do was let the endless water take them down.

Minho can breathe, but the rest of him is drowning.

───────

“This is against protocol,” Seungmin says, looking at the spaceship that is hovering near X12. “But we have no choice,” he adds and turns sharply away from it.

Minho follows him, hand gripping the sprayer like a vice. His fingers are numb, but it is the prickle of pain that grounds him when he approaches the forest. When he’d been on the day shift and hovering behind Jisung, he had never felt the forest loom like this. It’s red foliage bears down on him with menacing weight, its thick leaves silent even as a breeze wheezes through it.

The entryway that Jisung had created gapes at them like a smile and when they enter, the silence consumes them. Minho isn’t able to hear his footsteps, but he imagines that it is apace with his heart because they’re rushing through the sap filled track, following the drone of the chainsaw. And then the hooks in Minho’s chest are wrenched out when Jisung emerges, the blue fibre of his uniform drenched with blood.

The ground rattles when something falls on the ground. The spider – and they’re not really spiders because which spider has twelve appendages and ten eyes that all close at once as it blinks. Minho’s moving – or maybe it is Seungmin and the cleansing agent mixed with hydration capsules is a gleaming jet suspended in the air, reflecting the blood red of the leaves or is it Jisung’s blood -

The spider rears back and – screams . Seungmin darts away and oh it is Minho who is spraying. The spider scrabbles back, its eyes foaming, its teeth flashing, its claws raking against the tree and splitting their bark open. There’s a flash behind him and Minho whirls and comes face to face with ten eyes and would you look at that, they’re actually a muddy green and then there’s the hair - pulling screech.

Seungmin darts away with an alacrity that is impressive considering that Jisung is lying limp over his shoulder. The camera drones buzz after him. As he passes Minho, he hears Felix’s voice booming from a mic. Take shelter – spaceship! – Minho bodily pushes away a smaller spider that is rushing towards him. It barely wobbles, but it skitters past him without stopping and approaches the bigger one.

Minho doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s running perhaps, but he can’t tell. The forest’s maw is closer, however, and he can hear the whine of the spaceship. He can feel the wind against his face now and then he leaps into the entrance of the spaceship, his shoulder and hip knocking painfully against the floor.

The door slowly lumbers close. “Hyung!” Seungmin yells, “stop the bleeding.”

Minho obeys him and crawls towards Jisung’s prone form. He picks up Jisung’s helmet with shaking hands and puts it over his own head. “This is Captain Lee Minho and it is 13:14 hours, Earth Measure,” he says into the mic, his voice a strange, strangled roar, “there’s an injured officer. I request assistance.”

“Details affirmed,” Felix says. The space ship rattles under his feet.

And so with every muscle twitching and his mind empty except for Felix’s orders, he strips Jisung off his shirt. There’s a gash on his shoulder and on his chest and his collarbone is at an angle that makes bitterness flood his mouth.

“Hyung,” Jisung mumbles. His eyes are closed and his brows are pinched. “You both are dumb,” he says, lips blue and dribbling blood from the corner.

Minho presses the shredded remains of Jisung’s uniform to the wound on his chest. “Shut up,” he hisses, “why the fuck are you bleeding so much,” he demands when the blue fabric turns soggy and limp within seconds.

“The spiders…” Jisung croaks, grabbing Minho’s hand that’s on his chest, “hungry.”

“You’re a fool, Han Jisung,” Minho says, rooting through the medical kit with his other hand.

Jisung doesn’t reply because he has fainted.

───────

“He sleeps a lot.” Chan is sitting beside Jisung’s bed and Minho is standing opposite him. “The meds knock him out.”

Jisung looks pale against the light coloured sheets of the hospital bed. A blanket is tucked tightly from his waist to his toes. Under the relentless illumination in the room, his bandages and bruises draw the eyes like a beacon. Minho’s eyes burn.

“I understand,” he murmurs. He always feels like he has to whisper in hospitals even though others talk at normal volume. “He looks–” he gestures at Jisung, unsure of what to say. He is better than he was in the space ship, but he is still injured and exhausted.

Chan crosses a leg over his knee and studies Jisung. “He looks like he is carrying the weight of the world even in his sleep.” He scrubs his face with a hand – a gesture that is reminiscent of Changbin. His eyes are shadowed; he himself is a shadow of his former self. The sharp outline of his self is faded as if it has been worn away by an endless eddy of worries. “I never thought he would do something like this,” Chan adds, “that Changbin and Jisung would go to these lengths. I didn’t even know – ”

“They seem to love you,” Minho says, fiddling with the blanket. “They wanted to protect you.”

Chan sighs and looks at Minho. “Do you think it’s strange that they would do this?” He says it evenly, but Minho can see a flinty spark in his eyes.

“I have no right to judge,” Minho says quickly.

Chan considers him for a moment. “We were in the academy together,” his gaze flickering back to Jisung. “And it is a harsh place,” he frowns, “it is a terrible place for any child and I tried to protect the both of them from it. I never expected any payment – they’re my brothers , but I don’t understand why they would think that I would be fine with this –” he bites his lip.

  We all have burdens to bear. Minho wonders what the burden of being so loved that someone is ready to lay down their life for you is like. Silence stretches between the three of them.

“Captain Lee,” Chan’s voice is soft and measured when he speaks again, “thank you for taking care of him.”

Minho inclines his head. “It was my duty…” he hesitates again. He hates being awkward like this but he has never spoken to the Commander before. But then Jisung grumbles in his sleep and Chan leans forward and smooths his brow. “And I’ve grown to care for him,” he admits. “I’ve never actually spent so much time with one crew member before.”

Chan turns and his eyes are warm with understanding. “It’s different when you know a person beyond the work they do.”

Do I know him beyond his work? Minho clears his throat. “Please let him know that I was here.”

Chan has already turned back to Jisung. “I will.”

───────

Jisung says things like, “yes, the mist over the River is impenetrable by satellites and spaceships, but I really believed that the human spirit would light the way to it.”

Similarly coached by Changbin, Minho says, “I believed Captain to be in imminent danger, but he was insistent that he should make his way to the River. After that there was no time for thinking.”

“The idea to use cleaning agents just flashed through my head at the last minute,” Seungmin says with a bashful dip of his head, “I think it was the desperation to save Captain Han that made me think out of the box.”

Felix clears his throat and laces his fingers together. “Not knowing what would happen to my friends and to my boyfriend was terrifying, but I knew that I had a duty to do.”

More questions roll across the screen. They take turns answering and Minho is really grateful that Changbin drilled all the answers into them because some of the questions are obviously probes to find cracks in the story. After a while all the questions are for Jisung and he sips his coffee – the one thing he’d asked for the moment he regained consciousness – as he thinks.

Minho darts a surreptitious look at him. Except for his cast, he looks healthy and there’s a subtle flush to his cheeks. He’s very expressive as he talks, his brows rising and falling and his hands fluttering as he says something. He is the same as he was during all their late night chats, but everything is different – no, not completely different – just different in its orientation, he supposes.

In the two weeks after the incident, this is only the third time he’s meeting Jisung. The first time he had visited him in the hospital bay. The next time Minho had visited, Jisung was awake but drugged out and he had babbled about spiders before falling asleep. This is the third time and after a brief, “hello!” Jisung had profusely thanked him and Minho had avoided his gratitude. 

It’s not like Minho is expecting something. He’s not dumb enough to think that what happens during missions will transfer outside the mission. Plus, he doesn’t know Jisung beyond the context of a life threatening mission. Even if it can be considered as a start, it is definitely a skewed one. But there’s a stab of pain all the same and Minho doesn’t know what it’s for. For what he lost or what he’ll never have?

The meeting ends. Changbin whisks Jisung away just as he has been doing for the past two weeks and as they leave, Minho sees Chan flank Jisung’s other side. He startles when Felix taps his shoulder. “Hey. That was something else,” he says, nodding at the room they’ve exited.

Felix shrugs as he starts to walk, his hand intertwined with Seungmin’s. “It’s just morbid curiosity. A few weeks back when we were in the danger of starving, these people didn’t care.”

Minho blinks, taken aback by the way his mouth goes dry. He breathes out slowly. “That’s… true,” he admits.

“Everything is fickle in space,” Felix sighs, ruffling his hair, “we’re heroes today and a few months later after the movie is done, we’ll just be a bunch of officers on a barren planet trying to make it fit for human life.”

Seungmin opens the door for them and gestures Minho to go ahead. “And that’s what I’d like actually.” He lets the door close behind him with a soft swish. “That’s the success that will be more sustainable in the long run.”

“More sustainable in the long run,” Felix teases, tweaking Seungmin’s nose. Seungmin glowers at him, cross-eyed but then breaks into a smile. “But yes, that’s what I want to.”

Minho bites his lip as he considers it. He’s near the Control Room now where rows of cameras and reams of transcripts await him. There’s a crew going out soon and he’ll be their last hope in case all the mechanisms fail. It is not a responsibility that can be worn lightly.

Even if he has nothing, at least he has this. “Me too,” he echoes as he places his finger on the fingerprint sensor on the door of the Control Room. The door clicks open. “That’s what I want too.” He pauses. “And I’m glad that – that we’re doing this together.”

Seungmin pats his shoulder. “Of course, hyung.” He gestures at himself and then at Felix. “You’re stuck with us forever now.”

Minho laughs. “That’s a great burden,” he says, “but I’ll bear it happily.” Warmth coils through his ribs and he takes just a moment to bask in it.

───────

Minho is not on duty tonight. Now that the mission is completed – or cut short, depending on how much you knew – he has gone back to his regular schedule. But there’s paperwork and the transcripts and somehow it is easier to work on them in the deep silence of the night.

His office is silent. All the monitors are empty, the cameras and holograms switched off and mournful. There’s no golden ribbon of Jisung’s statistics looping in the air and he thinks, connection lost .

He flicks on his computer and starts with the transcripts.  Changbin has been hinting that they might disappear soon – obsessed fans, you know. So, Minho wants to make sure that no one finds out the things that they have no right to know.

The mission comes first – I have to strike gold – sorry Lt. Lee, I have to complete the mission – I can hear noises – fuck, Felix, they’re here!

Apply pressure – administer antiseptic – Captain Lee, he’s in shock – Captain, staunch the blood

There’s a knock on the door. “Come in,” Minho calls. Maybe it is because he is immersed in Jisung’s words, but when the door swings open and he sees Jisung standing at the threshold, except for a trip in his heartbeat, he’s not surprised. Or maybe he is – he can’t tell because his mind is suddenly full of static.

“I was looking for you,” Jisung explains, closing the door behind him. “Min told me that you’ll be in your office.” A pause. “Am I disturbing you?”

Minho shakes his head and waves a hand asking Jisung to come inside. Jisung walks forward with a crooked, unsure smile. Minho had always thought of him as small, and he is, but he has a quiet presence that the cameras never picked up on.

He gingerly sits on a chair and brushes his hair back with his uninjured hand. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Hope sparks in his chest, but then he remembers how Jisung had tried to thank him and it dies with a whimper. “Please don’t thank me again – I told you..”

“No!” Jisung says, waving his hand from side to side, “I know you told me to not thank you, but I will one day – but that’s not why I am here.”

“Oh?” A twinge of hope.

Jisung scratches behind his ear and drops his gaze. “Do you remember that day – night when you said… um – that I have to take you to the greenhouse café when I come back?”

Minho’s smile erupts with a suddenness that shocks him. “Yeah, I do,” even his voice quivers with his smile, “have you come to have a late night chat?” he teases and watches in amusement as Jisung flushes.

“I have,” Jisung tugs at the hem of his shirt, “so since you’re actually not on duty, do you maybe want to go there?”

Minho is not expecting that. He’d expected Jisung to bluster and – well he didn’t expect this . His ears heat up and he wonders if Jisung knows the context in which he said it.

“Well...you see,” he says, hands tight on the arms of his chair, “I am a bit attracted to you and I meant that as a date so that I can… we can get to know each other.” He swallows and blunders onwards because Jisung has a quizzical expression, “I am just letting you know because if you’re not interested then–”

“But hyung,” Jisung’s voice sounds innocent, but his lips lift in a smirk, “I did mean it as a date. Didn’t you know?”

Minho purses his lips as he stands up. “You’re a brat.”

Jisung laughs. “You’re wounding an already wounded person,” he says, “and I had to escape from Chan and Changbin hyung to come see you and this is what you do.”

Minho freezes as he sets his alarms. “Did you actually escape...”

“Nah. Two weeks of coddling is all they can spare. They’re happy to have me out of their hair, I think.”

“Oh thank god,” Minho picks up his bag, “Changbin was breathing fire when Seungmin came to see you.”

Jisung follows him out the door. “That fight will go down in our station’s history.” He grins, “followed by the utter sappiness that occurred after the fight.”

“That seems to be a common theme with you these days from what I’ve heard,” Minho says, reeling with how easy it is to talk with Jisung. His heart flutters.

“It is,” Jisung nods, “I cry during therapy and then I go back and cry to Chan hyung or Changbin hyung and then we all cry together. Then Seungmin and I say the sappiest things ever to each other.” He smiles at Minho when he holds the door open for him. “I think it’ll only last till I have to wear this cast,” he says, pointing at it.

Tonight, three of the moons are visible. The station is silent, but Minho thinks that it is breathing a little easily now that its inhabitants can sleep well. “You look like a hurt puppy,” Minho muses, “but it’s also the ‘I was ready to die for you’ thing.”

“Yeah well, it’s going to take a lot of time to come to terms with that,” Jisung says, pensive. “But I want to live my life too, you know, while I work through it in therapy,” he shrugs.

There are a few people in the greenhouse café, but they don’t spare the both of them a glance. They’re staring at a hologram and discussing something. “What do you want to drink?” Minho asks following Jisung to the spot he’s picked.

Jisung perks up. “Coffee,” he says.

The coffee machine is a new addition to the café and it yet another thing that they got after news of Jisung’s sacrifice spread. Minho decides to not think about it as he presses a button. Sometimes, thinking of the implications of certain things is a one-way ticket to unending horror. The fragrant steam from the coffee mug curls around him as he carries it to Jisung.

Jisung beams as he accepts the mug. “Thank you!”

Minho can’t help the burst of fondness. “You should thank me more. It’s tough work, pressing a button.”

Jisung rolls his eyes and inhales the steam. Minho watches the utter delight on Jisung’s face as he takes a sip.

Yes, he only knows a little about Jisung, but what he does know – the fact that he adores coffee, that he talks with his entire body, and that he is an amusing brat who was ready to sacrifice himself for his brothers and the station – just makes him eager to know more.

“I am going to begin this session with a very important question,” Minho says and then takes a sip of his drink. He clears his throat. “What’s your favourite colour?”

Jisung snorts but his eyes twinkle. “Such an important question,” he says, “but, I’m going to give you an in depth answer so get ready.” He coughs into his fist, a smile stretching beyond the point where his fist touches his lips.  “So. Let me begin by saying that I have a few–”

Minho props his chin on his hand and listens to Jisung talk. Sometimes, Minho thinks, even amidst the undercurrent of pain and repugnance that lurks just beneath everything, we have to find the things that matter and bask in their warmth.  And when Minho thinks of Seungmin and Felix, and watches Jisung explain how it is his mood that determines his favourite colour, he thinks that he has found that thing. He has found his last hope.

And that’s enough , Minho tells himself as an extraordinary warmth bursts in his chest, at least for now .

Finish .