The hum of the ship’s life support system was a constant drone, a counterpoint to the silence that had grown heavy in the common room. It had been over a month since their mission began, a month since the first incident, the first disappearance. Then the first body. Now, only a handful of them remained. Black watched the faces around the elongated table – a mix of fear, exhaustion, and suspicion. He felt none of it. Only a cold, calculating analysis of the situation, and a peculiar warmth whenever his gaze fell on White.

White was sitting opposite him, hands clasped tightly on the table. He looked tired, vulnerable. Black felt a familiar pull. He had spent weeks cultivating this image of a loyal, dependable crewmate, especially to White. He’d guided White through complex diagnostic tasks, always offering to help recalibrate sensors or calibrate the oxygen filtration system, knowing White would struggle without him. He’d been there when White found the latest victim, offering a steady hand, a quiet reassurance. White had leaned on him, trusted him, and that trust was the most intoxicating thing for Black. It was a prelude to something far more permanent.

The accusations started slowly, a murmur at first, then growing into a crescendo.

"It had to be White," Red insisted, voice tight with barely suppressed hysteria. "He was near the Navigation hub right before Green went missing. I saw him."

"No, I was checking the astrogation charts," White said, voice low, defensive.

"You just saw me walk past." Yellow chimed in "And what about Brown? White found Brown too, didn’t he? It’s always White finding them."

"It’s a pattern," Blue said, calmer but no less accusatory. "The last three… White was either the one to report it or was last seen in the general vicinity."

Black let the accusations build, let White’s desperation mount. The others, desperate for an answer, for an end to the terror, were ready to sacrifice anyone. And White was the easiest target. This was the moment. He needed to solidify White’s reliance on him, to ensure that when the time came, White would have nowhere else to turn.

He cleared his throat, a soft, measured sound that cut through the rising cacophony of voices. All eyes turned to him. His voice, when he finally spoke, was calm, almost soothing, radiating an unshakeable confidence that belied the chaos swirling around them.

"This is not a pattern. It is an unfortunate coincidence,"

Black stated, his gaze sweeping across the faces, lingering briefly on Red, then Blue, before settling firmly on White.

"White is one of the most meticulous among us. He follows protocols. He documents everything. If he says he was checking astrogation charts, he was checking astrogation charts. If he finds a body, it’s because he’s often in the more remote sections of the ship, diligently carrying out his tasks, just like we all should be. Blaming him for being present or for reporting discoveries is illogical. It’s fear speaking, not fact. We need to focus on actual evidence, not on someone’s proximity to a tragedy or their willingness to report it. That’s how we lose track of the actual threat. And White, of all people, is the last person who would ever harm another living soul, let alone orchestrate this… this horror. We’ve seen his distress. We’ve seen his grief. He’s with us in this, not against us. Now, let’s consider who benefits from pointing fingers at the most obvious target. Who gains from creating further division?"

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. He watched as White’s shoulders relaxed slightly, a flicker of relief crossing his face. Good. White needed to believe that Black was his unwavering rock, his only protector in this increasingly hostile environment. Black’s plan was nearing its final, delicate phase. He just needed a little more time to isolate White from the others, to make him utterly dependent. And then, Black would show him the true nature of their partnership. They would be the only ones left.