Work Text:
“Anyone staying quiet is suspicious as hell,” a man with dark hair that shifts between deep green and black states, his expression stern. His eyes glint like a predator sizing up his prey, sharp and calculating, but there’s that flicker of mischief at the corners of his mouth that keeps you guessing. He props his chin on his palm, leaning lazily against the edge of the strategy room’s table, posture casual but poised, exuding an overwhelming sense of confidence. The dim lighting of the strategy room catches the angles of his face just right, making him look both dangerous and impossibly alluring.
“Sha-Ming, I don’t think there’s enough evidence to refute or support that,” a woman’s voice cuts in, cautious and measured, her short green hair catching the dim blue light of the room.
Sha-Ming exhales slowly, rolling his shoulders before leaning against the blue-tinted glass behind the table. “Whatever you say, Stella,” he says, voice smooth but with that sly edge, like he’s letting her words slide off while secretly savoring the tension. He tilts his head, allowing the shadows to highlight his grin. “I tend to notice the things everyone else pretends not to see.”
You shift under his stare, pulse quickening—not just from the tension in the room, but from the way he’s looking at you. The corner-of-the-mouth smirk spreads just a little wider, making it impossible not to wonder if he’s enjoying this far more than the actual meeting. The air is thick with unspoken words and unacknowledged suspicions, adding to the palpable tension in the room.
A person with short, green-yellow hair, neatly clipped back with two red pins, cuts through the tension with a calm, measured voice. “I’ve chosen not to trust Sha‑Ming,” they say, eyes narrowing, each word deliberate and precise. The suspicion in the room is palpable, hanging in the air like a heavy cloud.
Sha‑Ming’s grin deepens, flicking toward them with mock offense. “Ouch, Setsu. Direct. I like it.” He leans lazily against the glass, posture casual but perfectly poised, letting the silence stretch like a taut wire. “I’m feelin’ some chemistry between us, babe.”
Setsu barks a humorless laugh, jaw tightening. “Knock off the ‘babe’ shit. Or I’ll throw you through the airlock myself.”
Sha‑Ming actually blinks, taken aback for half a beat. “That’d, like, kill me. You for real?”
Setsu doesn’t bother with words—just a steady, unmistakable nod.
You snort despite yourself. Stella clears her throat and leans forward. “We need to vote. Probability says we should not trust Gina. Still… I’m not confident either way.” The uncertainty in her voice mirrors the uncertainty in the room, making it clear that this decision is not easy.
A woman with shoulder-length wavy hair, ombre-tipped yellow, raises an eyebrow, her voice edged with mock indignation. “Apparently, I seem suspicious.”
A young man with brown hair, some strands falling over his forehead, adjusts the black cat perched on his shoulder. The cat’s green eyes, rimmed with blue, flick around the room, ears twitching. He shrugs, voice calm and steady. “I don’t see any reason to doubt Gina right now. I think we can trust her.”
You smile. “I agree with Chipie.”
Chipie’s face brightens with a warm, grateful smile, and he gives a slight nod of thanks. Gina, his long-time friend and trusted ally, returns the gesture, a hint of relief softening her expression.
A short woman with bright red hair streaked with yellow, her hair pulled into a high bun, leans forward, voice casual but curious. “So… like, we can trust Gina?”
Stella’s tone slices through the chatter, sharp and severe, eyes locked on Gina. “I feel it would be beneficial to watch Gina closely, SQ.”
SQ twirls a strand of her hair and leans lazily against the strategy table, voice bubbling with playful exaggeration. “Okay, here’s my take! Gina is totally sketch!”
Setsu’s tone cuts through the room, calm but firm. “Time to vote.”
The room falls into a palpable silence, tension thick in the air as everyone weighs their options. Fingers hover over voting pads, eyes flicking nervously from face to face. Sha‑Ming leans casually against the glass, a teasing grin on his face, his eyes sharp and clearly relishing the tension.
Hands finally move, fingers pressing the pads. You catch the corner of Sha‑Ming’s eye, the mischievous glint there promising chaos, charm, and just enough distraction to make your pulse spike with anticipation of the unknown.
Chipie murmurs, almost to his cat, “We gotta hurry up and end this.”
The votes are cast. The room is thick with silence, each of you waiting for the outcome, knowing that one wrong move could change everything, potentially leading to a disastrous mission outcome or even betrayal.
The ship’s artificial intelligence, LeVI, cuts the silence, “4 votes for Gina. 2 for Stella. 1 for Sha-Ming.” The announcement hangs in the air, the tension palpable.
Gina stiffens, lips pressed together, but her eyes hold steady, a testament to an unwavering resolve.
Sha‑Ming lets out a low whistle, the sound slicing through the stress. “Cold sleep for Gina, huh? Can’t say I’m surprised.”
Gina’s gaze sweeps over the room one last time—calm, almost serene. “I hope you all find the truth before it’s too late,” she says softly. She slips quietly from the main room, footsteps light as she makes her way toward the cold sleep chambers.
The rest of the crew rises, trailing behind her in uneasy silence. Sha-Ming lingers for a beat, stretching lazily against the glass, a smirk still playing at his lips. Then he pushes off and falls into step behind you, voice low and teasing. “You free later?”
You glance over your shoulder, searching for even a shred of sincerity—but of course, there’s none: just that same maddeningly self-assured grin.
“Seriously?” you whisper, keeping your voice down so the others don’t hear. “Gina’s about to get frozen.”
He only shrugs, slipping past you with a light step.
Machinery hums as one of the pods lowers from the wall with a low, mechanical whine. Frost creeps across its surface as cold vapor spills into the room.
Gina steps forward with quiet grace, her calm never wavering. “I’ll dream of you all,” she says softly, offering a faint smile that feels too kind for what’s about to happen. Her eyes flutter shut as she steps inside. The pod seals with a hiss, then rises back into its slot, locking in place with a final, echoing click.
No one speaks. The steady pulse of LeVI’s systems fills the silence until the AI’s monotone voice breaks through: “Cold sleep confirmed.”
A faint flicker runs through the chamber lights, washing the room in an uneasy red glow.
SQ shifts on her feet, eyes flicking from face to face. “Sooo… what now? Do we, like, say a few words or something? A ‘goodnight, Gina’ thing?”
Stella’s reply is immediate and clipped. “We monitor. We observe.”
Chipie absently strokes the cat perched on his shoulder, gaze heavy with quiet regret. “She was brave. If she wasn’t Gnosia… we’ll have to live with that.” His cat mews a soft, mournful chirp, echoing the weight in his voice.
The hum of the ship fills the silence—steady, mechanical, and utterly indifferent to the tension hanging in the air.
Setsu finally breaks it. “That’s enough. Everyone, return to quarters. LeVI will inform us if any changes occur before the next discussion.” Their tone leaves no room for argument.
The group begins to drift apart, boots clanging softly against the metal floor as one by one, they disappear down the corridor.
You glance back just once—and find Sha-Ming already watching you. His grin is still there, but it’s quieter now, less of a performance and more of a knowing challenge.
You exhale, telling yourself it might be wise to keep an eye on him this loop. With Sha-Ming, it’s never clear whether he’s your ally or your enemy.